Crying in the Dark

by Shane Dunphy

  ‘We’ve been unsuccessful in forming relationships with either of them,’ Bríd said. ‘The girls have tried very hard, but this is new to all of us, even those of us with experience to fall back on. Benjamin tells me that you have something of an interest in cases like this.’

  ‘I’ve written a couple of research papers on feral children. As a sociologist, the idea of an individual who is completely unsocialized – who has not been conditioned by human society – is hugely attractive. It’s kind of like looking at a person as a blank slate, before language, etiquette and all the rest of the baggage we have has taken hold. i‘m fascinated by the phenomenon. I’ve never actually met a child who really is feral, though. I once interviewed a woman who worked with one of the Irish cases, but that’s as close as I’ve got. I think that Ben may have slightly overstated the facts!’

  ‘So you can’t help us?’ Olwyn said, her voice cracking with emotion.

  ‘Hold on now, I didn’t say that,’ I said, reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘What I said was that, while I certainly have an interest and, perhaps, some skills in this field, it’s quite new to me too. Now, there are some things we can do; some things maybe you haven’t thought to try yet. What you need to remember is that flexibility is the key in these situations. If one approach isn’t working, there’s no shame in trying something else. And besides, even though the children are twins, don’t forget that they are still individuals, each with a different psychological make-up. What Larry may respond to, Francey may not.’

  ‘They certainly behave as if they’re two parts of the same person,’ Karena said. ‘It’s hard to see them as individuals.’

  ‘It’s like they have a pack mentality or something,’ Olwyn said, nodding.

  ‘It may appear that way, but it really isn’t the case at all. What we need to try and do is unlock that individuality. I don’t want to separate them. The bond between twins is remarkably strong, but what we could try to do is have specific times when they are separated – perhaps when they have some special time with their key-workers, one-on-one.’

  ‘We never leave a worker alone with them at the moment,’ Bríd said. ‘They’re too difficult to manage. It’s always two workers minimum.’

  ‘Maybe I could help there,’ I said. We can look at scheduling some sessions later,’

  ‘Well, thank you very much, Shane,’ Bríd said, almost smiling. ‘I’m sure that you’ll be a great help.’

  She stood. I stood too, and everyone smiled and shook hands with me again.

  Bríd led the way back down the stairs, telling me various titbits of information about the religious artefacts that adorned the walls as we descended. It seemed that theological history was something of an interest of hers, and she must have been in heaven in the old hospital with its dark, echoing hallways and countless dusty pictures, statues and ornaments.

  ‘This piece is really fascinating,’ she was saying, stopping me by a painting in a guilded frame of Daniel in the Lion’s Den. ‘It dates back to 1764, I think, and –’

  The remainder of her lecture was drowned out by a noise that sounded like a wild-cat roaring, and something sprang from the shadow of the stairwell behind us and landed on Karena’s shoulders. The childcare worker screamed in fright and pain and fell to the carpeted floor. Another growl rang out and a second creature dropped from above, this one bouncing off Olwyn and knocking her to the ground. I peered through the murk of the corridor, trying to work out what was happening. The thing on the ground rolled like a monkey and was upright in one fluid motion. I suddenly realized that these must be the Byrnes. What I was looking at were two children. I knew they were ten years of age, but they looked to be much smaller, with masses of light brown hair. Both were naked, and I could see that they still bore the marks of malnutrition and were covered in scars and healing scratches. The child who had felled Olwyn looked at me and hissed like a cat, lashing out at me with clawed hands. I stepped back instinctively.

  ‘Children,’ Bríd exclaimed, rushing over to help Olwyn, ‘stop this nonsense this instant!’

  The child nearest me seemed to be female – her hair was long and unkempt, and it hung right down over her face. She stalked towards me like a predator, long, fluid movements on all fours, rolling from side to side in an almost serpentine pattern. It was very unnerving, and I found myself backing up until I hit the wall. Karena, meanwhile, had pulled herself erect, and she crept behind and scooped up the child into her arms.

  ‘Francey, I want you to go back to bed, please.’

  Francey seemed to have other ideas, and with a snarl she sank her teeth into Karena’s arm. The worker gasped in pain and momentarily let go her grip, but it was enough time for the child to make the leap to her brother, who was struggling with Bríd and Olwyn. I shook off the sense of panic that had gripped me and ran over, reaching out to restrain the little girl. She must have had good peripheral vision, because, quick as lightning, she swerved to avoid me and, with a howl, leapt over the banisters, vanishing into the darkness to the floor ten feet below us. Larry fought even more ferociously when he saw his sister escape, and in a second had raked Olwyn all down her face and bitten Bríd on the ear. Then he too was gone.

  ‘The Byrnes, I presume,’ I said, not sure how I was feeling after the bizarre encounter. I was still reeling from the surreality of it all.

  ‘That’s them,’ Karena said, examining the marks on poor Olwyn’s face.

  ‘Come on, let’s see if we can round them up,’ Bríd said, and we followed her down the stairs.

  We found them in the kitchen. Francey was squatting under the big, wooden table. Larry was perched on top of it. Milk, cereal and sugar were poured all over the floor in a congealing mess, and both children had fistfuls of bread they were munching on. When Larry saw us enter the room, he gibbered like an ape, jumped up and down a couple of times and then rolled off the table, landing skilfully on his feet and scuttling in beside his sister.

  ‘Larry and Francey,’ Bríd said sternly, ‘I want you to come out of there and go back to your beds. We will talk about this tomorrow. There will have to be sanctions.’

  Sanctions is just a nice word for ‘punishment’. The twins would have heard it used throughout the few months they’d been in care. I doubted it would cause them to behave any differently. I was right.

  Screams and whoops were the only response these remarks received.

  I suddenly noticed that the three were standing back, slightly behind me. It seemed they wanted to see what I could do.

  ‘Why don’t you try talking to them?’ Bríd whispered. ‘They might respond better to a stranger.’

  Everything I knew about childcare told me this was not true, but I took a deep breath and moved over closer to the table. I hunkered down so that I could see them. They were identical twins, very much alike, the only real differences the varying patterns of the scarring all over their bodies from years of savage beatings, the different sexual organs and the fact that Francey’s hair had been kept long, while Larry’s had been closely cropped. I scooted over nearer to them so that I was just at the edge of the table, reached into my pocket and took out two sugar-free lollipops. If in doubt, resort to bribery.

  ‘Hey, kids, you don’t know me. My name’s Shane. Listen, I’m going to be coming here for a while, to hang out with you. I’d like to be friends …’ I held out the lollipops.

  ‘Isn’t this rewarding bad behaviour?’ muttered Bríd, loudly enough that the children could hear it.

  ‘No, Bríd, this is me not being judgemental about the behaviour of two obviously distressed children,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘Now let me work!’

  The twins were eyeing me nervously, lumps of half-chewed bread sticking out of their mouths. I took the plastic wrapping off the lollipops and held them out again. With a loud gulp, Francey swallowed her bread and leaned her head forward, sniffing the air. The posture of the two children was unusual. They were right down on their haunches. Their he
ads were bent low, so that their shoulders were rounded. Their demeanour suggested that they were far more comfortable on all fours than they were when upright. I heard a trickling, fluid sound, and realized that Francey had just urinated where she was sitting. Her facial expression had not changed. She hadn’t voided her bladder from fear – she had done it because she wanted to. The acrid aroma of the urine wafted up to me, but I gave no sign of noticing it. I kept my eyes on the children. Bríd, on the other hand, groaned and sighed loudly, and stomped over to a cupboard, producing a mop. I’m going to have some serious problems with that one, I thought.

  ‘Lookit what him’s got there.’

  It was said in a whisper, but I caught it.

  ‘Them’s sucky sweets, them are.’

  Larry had spat out his mouthful of bread and was eyeing the lollipops greedily.

  ‘Him’s a quare one,’ Francey said quietly. ‘Lookit him’s longish locks! Him’s liken a girl, so he is.’

  The speech patterns were indeed peculiar. There were aspects of the kind of dialect children from the traveller community use, but there was a very definite old-fashioned inflection. Their accent was not that of Oldtown; it was almost rural. I was anxious to hear more, and edged forward a little, ducking my head so that I was just under the table too. It was cramped and uncomfortable, and I felt my boots sloshing through Francey’s fresh urine, but I was now close enough for them to reach the sweets without having to move out of their bolt-hole.

  ‘You’re talking about my long hair,’ I said, keeping my tone calm and conversational. ‘You haven’t seen long hair on a man before?’

  They ignored the fact that I was talking, still eyeing me but only addressing each other.

  ‘Him’s hair’s liken a girly all right,’ Larry said. ‘But lookit, there’s a fuzz outen his face. Girls don’t got no fuzz onna their faces, Francey.’

  Francey reached out a hand toward the lollipops. I didn’t move. She thought better of it for a second, pulling her arm back in, but then seemed to change her mind and edged forward. In a sudden burst of motion she was right up against me, her nose almost at my own. It took all my willpower not to back away from her. She smelt of urine, sour milk and faeces, and her nose and upper lip were caked in mucus. She looked me straight in the eye, then closely examined my beard, reaching out and touching it delicately.

  ‘It’s all a-prickly, Lar. Liken a hedgehog!’

  Her hand moved to my hair and she ‘ooed’ and ‘aahed’ at that.

  It sure is liken a girly. It’s all soft and it smells like flowers or perfume bottles and such.’

  I stayed perfectly still, letting her explore me in her own way. It was purely primal, like being sniffed by a dog. Babies will do something similar, using touch and smell to get to know a new person.

  She pulled back from me slightly and looked me in the eye again.

  ‘You have pretty hair, Francey,’ I said. ‘I’m sure if you asked Karena, she’d be happy to style it for you. Plaits or something?’

  In a movement so fast I didn’t see it, she whipped the lollipops from out of my hand and punched me in the face. The strength of the blow was truly remarkable for a child of her size. The pain exploded across the bridge of my nose (‘twice in as many days,’ I thought ruefully) and I sat down hard, banging my head on the rim of the table as I did so. I felt piss and milk soaking into the back of my jeans and groaned inwardly. Bríd began to say something but I raised an arm to stop her. A thin rivulet of blood dribbled from my left nostril and over my moustache, but I wiped it off with the back of my hand. It seemed that I had crossed a line with Francey – had spoken out of turn. However, I could not permit the act of aggression to pass uncommented upon. I needed to start as I intended to continue.

  ‘Francey, I know you’re upset right now – I can see that very clearly. Because you don’t know me, and because you’re frightened, I’m going to let the fact that you hit me pass, just this once. But you need to know, when you’re with me, I have just two rules. You don’t hurt anyone, not yourself and not me, and you try your best. I won’t hurt you, and I expect you to treat me the same way. Is that clear?’

  The sounds of furious sucking came from the other end of the table. The twins’ eyes were wide now – they were listening to me all right.

  ‘I’d like you to answer me please, Francey. When I speak, I like it when people speak back to me. It’s rude to ignore a person when they talk to you.’

  ‘You can just take your rules and your smelly hair and fuck right off wit yourself,’ Francey said around the sweet. ‘That’s alien I has to say to ya, okay?’

  I grinned. ‘It’s better than nothing.’ I stood up, massaging the small of my back. ‘Let’s clean up here, ladies. I trust that the cupboards and drawers can all be locked and secured?’

  The three women nodded, and mutely began to clean away the mess the twins had created and to lock all the food-stores and cutlery drawers. Within ten minutes, other than the silent presence under the table, you would never have known that the Byrnes had been there. I poured a basin of soapy water down the sink, and then hunkered down by the table again.

  ‘Kids, we’re going into the living room to watch some TV. You have two choices. You can stay here, or you can come in, have a cup of tea with us and then go to bed. To be honest, I don’t mind which you do. I’m sure you’re both really nice kids, but you haven’t been very good company this evening. My nose is sore and I have a bit of a headache, and before we sit down to watch any television, Olwyn is going to have to put some antiseptic ointment on her face. You are responsible for those things. I’m not mad at you, and I don’t think Olwyn is either [Olwyn muttered that she wasn’t] and there’ll be no more said about it, but when you make a decision to hurt someone, you need to realize what it is that you’re doing. I’d like you to think about that, while you make up your minds what you’d like to do now.’

  I motioned to the three staff members and we left the room.

  ‘Do you think it was wise to let them know they hurt us?’ Olwyn asked, as Karena led the way to the TV room.

  ‘Why not?’ I said. ‘We aren’t robots. We’re people. People get hurt when you punch or scratch them. They need to understand that. By the look of them, they’ve had plenty of violence directed at them. They were probably expected to take it and pass no remark. The real world isn’t like that. Cut me, and I bleed. I have no problem with the Byrnes knowing it.’

  We all took chairs (I chose a wooden one, since my jeans were by now reeking of urine) and Bríd went to get the first-aid kit. Karena turned on the television with the volume down low, and we waited.

  Fifteen minutes later, two dejected-looking figures appeared in the doorway. Olwyn silently went past them to fetch their pyjamas.

  ‘Now, kids,’ Karena said gently, ‘would ye like some supper or have you had enough to eat?’

  ‘We’d liken some tay, so we would,’ Francey said, eyeing me with real venom.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Bríd said.

  They drank their tea quietly and went to bed without much protest. I watched them all the while, still unsure of what I was really seeing. They were an enigma. I just hoped that I would be able to unlock the secret that was hidden within these untamed, violent children.

  5

  One week later

  Through the kitchen window, I watched Bobby and Micky Walsh talking to something that wasn’t there. It was a disquieting experience. The kitchen, as always, was in semi-darkness. With Biddy’s permission, I had been through the house to see if I could do anything about the pervasive gloom that seemed to cocoon it. It was a beautiful summer’s day outside, but inside was dark and actually a little chilly. I had washed all the windows thoroughly, made tie-backs for the curtains and aired the place, but the eternal twilight remained and there was a peculiar smell I just couldn’t get rid of. I had finally put it down to a design flaw in the building. The sun always seemed to be shining just at the wrong angle.


  I watched the two boys closely. This was the first time that Biddy had allowed me to see them when they were with ‘him’, and permission had been granted only when I promised not to intrude upon whatever was happening.

  The boys’ eyes were fixed at a particular point in the air. The brothers were different heights; Micky, as I’ve already mentioned, was significantly smaller than Bobby. He had to angle his head much more than his sibling, and I thought he would surely get bored with it and look away, but he didn’t. They both continued to focus on a patch of air, around six feet above ground level. I looked to see if there was some point of reference for them, a mark on the wall at that point or a branch from the ditch adjacent to them, but, if there was, I couldn’t see it. It was simply a patch of empty air.

  I couldn’t hear what was being said. The windows were double-glazed and no sound came through, but I could see from the boys’ body-language that they were having an animated conversation – although not with each other. Bobby would speak, and there would be a pause. Both boys, seated cross-legged on the ground, would talk together, just as they would if they were speaking to me or their mother, but then one would shout the other down, finish saying his piece, wait again, all the time looking at something I couldn’t see. It really did look for all the world as if they were talking to, listening to, responding to an invisible person.

  The play-work had so far produced nothing. I’d tried a range of different methodologies – sand and water, clay, role-play, storytelling – but I was beginning to see that the boys were not going through a grieving process at all, because, as far as they were concerned, their father was not dead! Their behaviour with me was always pleasant and respectful. To be honest, I had fun with them. They were easy to work with and I looked forward to coming over and spending time with them. When the subject of their father came up, which it did at almost every session, they behaved as if their relationship with him was perfectly normal. I asked them on my third visit how they knew when to go out to the garden to see him.