‘Exactly. The reality is that Fay and the children like her live in that society. They, and their families, suffer its attitudes.’
‘Am I really hearing this?’ The unruly Fred was incredulous. ‘You are actually advocating educational integration!’
‘We all know your views, Fred.’ Lou’s laugh was uneasy; control was again slipping from him. ‘Please, ladies and gentlemen. Can we get back to the matter in hand?’
‘You are really hearing it,’ Mark ignored Lou. ‘I’m advocating better services within the mainstream system. Not outside it. Whatever label you want to put on it.’
‘We provide a needed service!’ Mrs Ryan was livid.
‘Order! Order!’ Lou was apoplectic. ‘We are not here for this!’
Mary placed a restraining hand on Mark’s arm.
At her touch, he again heard Jenny’s warning. Thank God for Mary Grey.
Once more the assembled group shuffled, nodded, sighed, frowned, made quick notations in their individual notebooks, or looked surprised. A couple, who had so far remained silent, were patently embarrassed.
‘Really, I am sorry, Mr Chairman. I cannot let this lie,’ Mrs Ryan stubbornly assaulted the prolonged silence. ‘As a staff member of the Centre, Mr Withers is in a better position than most to recognise the weakness of his own argument. Educational integration, even if it were to be implemented, is not for all. What about Laura, Mark?’
Indeed - what about Laura?
‘I too am sorry, Mrs Ryan. I must insist,’ Lou admonished. ‘We are not here for this. However interesting. However essential as a background for our recommendations. Though this I do have to question. To get back to business - may we have your conclusions, Brian?’
The rebuked principal shrank into her chair.
The psychologist slammed shut his notebook. ‘Fay Clark will be an adult capable of self-management.’
A combined hiss. Of relief? Of disbelief? It was unclear. The ensuing silence dutifully awaited their chairman’s response.
‘Employment? Marriage? Children?’ Lou pressed.
‘I believe so.’
‘She is also capable of self-destruction?’ Lou queried.
‘True,’ Brian nodded. ‘I believe she once attempted suicide.’
‘She cried for help,’ Mark quietly objected. It was important that his comment be registered by the industrious recorder at Lou’s side.
‘Yet another debatable issue,’ Lou frowned.
‘Maybe so,’ Brian acknowledged. ‘Both interpretations are valid. She cried for help, as her teacher tells us. She could have died. She is still capable of a miscalculated cry for help which will have a disastrous outcome. Come to that, who among us is not? As for premeditated suicide? That’s altogether a different matter. Of late, this young woman has demonstrated remarkable tenacity and self-discipline. Even courage. Not qualities which suggest she would lightly throw in the towel.’
‘That’s your considered view?’
‘My educated judgement. Substantiated by information from various valid sources.’
Chapter Nineteen
He phoned Jenny. ‘Don’t expect me for a while. There could be hours to go
yet.’
Lou had declared an interval. His staff had served food and drinks at the polished table in the conference room. He’d used the excuse of a telephone call to escape.
‘Where are you now?’
‘Hiding,’ he groaned. ‘They’re filling themselves on chicken sandwiches and cream cakes. I’m staying away from all of them. Specially the boss.’
‘What about Fay?’
‘I’ll tell you later.’
‘Are they going to okay the operation?’
The operation! It hadn’t even got a mention!
‘I’ll let you know.’ He hung up. There was more work to be done. If only he could leave. He couldn’t. He’d been a fool. He’d been lured into exchanging theoretical blows. He’d forgotten the operation!
As he entered the toilet block, the psychologist was leaving. ‘I thought you’d left us.’
‘Not yet,’ he grimaced. ‘No such luck.’
‘Hard going?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Any chance of a decent get-together some time?’
He hesitated.
‘Maybe when you come back to the real world, Mark?’
Startled, he met the quizzical eyes of the young man.
‘Sorry,’ the psychologist shrugged. ‘I overstep…’
***
The table had been cleared, the delegates and Lou were waiting. It had taken a while to recompose himself. It had been more difficult than he’d expected, mustering the will to walk back into this stifling room. The underlying atmosphere, the sense of raw power at work, his own submission to its temptation and the fear that he’d again surrender was demoralising. He should have left. He couldn’t. The matter of the proposed hysterectomy must be dealt with.
Compelling himself to concentrate, he endured Lou’s dreary summation of the notes his secretary had been taking.
Finally, Lou invited: ‘So – to the next item on the agenda.’
‘We haven’t discussed the proposed hysterectomy.’
‘Mr Withers! Confidentiality!’
‘What about it?’
‘I don’t follow,’ the psychologist frowned. ‘Surely this matter is confidential?’
‘Confidential! That’s a joke!’ He surveyed the astonished group.
‘Your point, Mark?’ Brian insisted. ‘You do have a point?’
‘What have we been doing all morning? It seems to me we’ve been freely airing a great number of things I’d have presumed to be private to the Clark family. Where does confidentiality stop and start here? What is and what is not?’
Lou quickly intervened. ‘I must remind everyone, we are here at the request of the Court.’
‘Exactly,’ Mark conceded. ‘Which means the proposed hysterectomy…..’
‘Not to be discussed!’ Lou interrupted.
‘Quite right!’ Senior Constable Jack Harris’s huge fist thumped the table.
Constable Mary Grey’s elbow dug into his side.
He reached for his notebook.
‘Don’t leave,’ Mary Grey whispered.
He let the notebook rest.
‘Okay, people,’ Lou resumed. ‘As most of us know, our sole purpose is to recommend a course of action to the Court. To do this we must determine what type of management will ensure the child’s future well-being.’
‘As to that,’ one of the formerly silent men added his weight. ‘We now have a basis from which we may make a determination. Our consultant psychologist has reported to us. Fay Clark is capable of attending to her own affairs.’
‘Will be capable.’ Brian pedantically amended.
‘Exactly.’ Lou’s thin smile agreed. ‘Will be. Will be capable. However, at present the child is at risk. At present she is not an adult. Her family has lost control. So how do we address this problem? The problem of management. As for Mr Withers’ question. It has no business here, it is not within our province. You did not hear it. I repeat. Behavioural management, responsibility for ensuring there are no more episodes with the police… That is the sole reason for this group consultation.’
The professional probation officer clarified. ‘Strategies for constructive intervention. That’s our purpose.’
‘Thank you, Harry.’ Lou relaxed, visibly. Harry’s status was obviously impressive.
Buoyed by the attack on her staff member, Mrs Ryan addressed the assembled. ‘I have to wonder - Mr Withers has put a great deal of personal time and effort into his work with Fay Clark. Perhaps…?’
‘Please….’ Lou was apparently eager to re-establish goodwill with Mrs Ryan. ‘Your input is needed, Mrs Ryan.’
‘Thank you.’ Although the blue rinse was unbending and the grey eyes unforgiving, she accepted the chairman’s invitation. ‘I will be frank. Perhaps Mr Withers should have bee
n excluded on the grounds of bias.’
The table waited. This was between the principal and the teacher. Surely the teacher would not be here without the principal’s permission? Her mistake? If that was what it was, she should fix it. Even Lou remained momentarily aloof.
Mark also waited. She’d get no retaliatory retort from him. Thank you Jenny.
Having extracted no response from anybody, Mrs Ryan was compelled to follow up. ‘No offence, Mark. I believe these people should be aware of the fact that you have a certain bias towards Fay. You have a personal interest. Your judgement may not be unclouded.’
‘Ah!’ Welcoming the opportunity, Lou happily expanded. ‘Well said. Most of us do know. For those who don’t, both Mr Withers and his wife have dedicated many hours to the educational needs of this child. This has sometimes been rather above and beyond normal expectations. They are to be congratulated.’
‘It’s not…’
‘Hear me out, if you will?’
The blue rinse nodded.
‘You may well be right about Mr Withers’ bias affecting his judgement. You know him better than I. It also needs to be said that, come right down to it, many of us are personally interested. Objectively so, of course. It’s a small town. Though I am not personally acquainted with the family, I know the history. As do most of us. Unless I hear otherwise, Mr Withers stays.’
A combined murmur of approval endorsed Lou’s ruling. Mark was too jaded to comment. They would do what they would do with, or without, him. Jenny was right.
‘So,’ Lou continued, ‘we have had full and intensive debate. The clock is ticking. It’s time for the nitty gritty. What is to be our recommendation to the Court? Can we arrive at unanimity? I would of course prefer this.’
Mrs Ryan was the first to respond. ‘We are all agreed, I would think. Fay can no longer be permitted to run wild. Formal control of some kind is imperative.’
‘There’s still one thing…’ Mary Grey was hesitant.
‘By all means,’ Lou invited.
‘The hysterectomy.’
‘Confidentiality, Constable. I believe we…’
‘Not all of us.’ A low murmur of approval encouraging her, Constable Grey continued: ‘I for one agree with Mr Withers. I believe it is pertinent to our recommendation. If it was confidential, it certainly isn’t now. For those who don’t know, Mrs Clark has already signed consent.’
‘Mrs Clark is free to change her mind.’
‘I know. The question is, will she?’ Constable Grey turned to Mark. ‘What do you think?’
‘She already regrets it.’
Across the table, Mrs Ryan stiffened.
‘What is the alternative?’
‘The Pill, I would think.’ The psychologist stated the obvious.
‘A licence to promiscuity.’ Fred spoke only partially in jest.
‘Good God!’ Lou grimaced. ‘Do we still hear that!’
‘Actually,’ the probation officer frowned. ‘We do still hear that.’
‘As we all know there are other alternatives. Perhaps in this case more reliable than the Pill.’
‘There’s a relatively safe procedure. The tubes are tied. Pregnancy is then not a
risk.’
The argument expanded. Everyone had something to say. Voices rose and again Lou seemed willing to let the argument rage. Mark looked at his watch. If he could leave, he would. He’d brought up the proposed hysterectomy. He’d done all he possibly could. Constable Grey, who could not be accused of personal bias, would carry the baton from here. He couldn’t leave, his reasons would be misconstrued. As best he could, he closed his mind.
‘Tie the tubes? That has to be out. It’s irreversible.’
‘It’s also not one hundred percent guaranteed, as I understand it.’
‘Is anything?’
‘Why so drastic? If the Pill is prescribed? Surely that’s an option?’
‘Who would supervise her? She’s not responsible.’
‘Would she comprehend the reason for the medication?’
‘These people are incapable of the responsibility of rearing children.’
‘They breed like rabbits.’
Mark’s mind kicked in. Had his ears betrayed him? Had someone actually said that?
‘For God’s sake, Fred!’ The chairman ordered. ‘Cut that out!’
‘Sorry, Lou. I’ve been around too long. Look at the pickle the Clark family is in. Makes you wonder. Or does it?’
‘Who is he?’ Mark whispered to Mary Grey.
‘Honorary probation,’ she whispered. ‘Been around since the Ark.’
Mark closed his eyes. Incredible!
He’d wanted the horror of the proposed operation exposed. But this? Never this. Neither Fay, nor her mother, nor any member of her family had been invited into this room; not even as observers. Their family’s life was being laid bare like a lump of raw meat. Yet infinitely worse was the fact that Fred, and others not too different from him, had been invited and were contributing to the discussion.
Discussion? It was nothing of the kind. It was a grossly intrusive, unfair, often biased, frequently ill-informed tearing to pieces of a family about whom they new damned near nothing. The little they did know was based on the ill-informed, unfair, prejudiced perceptions gleaned from mostly outdated files and the pious judgements of this absurd crew. No wonder the poor young psychologist was shrinking into his chair as though he wanted to entirely disappear.
Why had it been set up in just this way?
Get right down to it and the reasons had to be associated with the poor economic condition and low social status of the family. The Clark family lived on the wrong wide of the tracks. They’d become victims of the unholy marriage between this new breed of office-bound professional and the conservatively traditional community carers. It was undeniable. Whatever the stated views of the individuals in both groups, people like the Clarks were not respected. It seemed highly likely that this would not be the case in consideration of a family from the upper class. It seemed equally likely that Fay would face a similar future to her parents, that there was to be no way out of the ghetto of grinding poverty. What if she’d been born into a family where finance was less critical and the parents better educated? Would she have had a chance? Surely, when she’d first started to deteriorate, her family would have demanded help. Wouldn’t they?
Too easy. What was he thinking? What about Peter? What in God’s name was Peter doing at The Glenlea? How had he got there? He dare not even begin to think about Peter.
As to Fay - bitterly true was the fact of her own early behaviour. Quiescent and docile, Fay had been a good girl. That she had been an unhappy good girl had gone unnoticed. Her docile obedience had cost her dearly. He’d been there, in the mainstream schools where the quiet children, the good children at the back of the large over-filled classrooms, went unnoticed. He’d sat in crowded classrooms where the bright ones suffered no apparent ill-effects and the not so bright dropped out as soon as the law permitted. He’d witnessed classes where the ‘naughty’ children were placed at the front, under the teacher’s eye. The naughty ones were noticed. They had to be. If any teaching was to be done, their disruptive behaviour had to be speedily attended to.
So teenage Fay, following the established pattern, had eventually become naughty and rebellious and disruptive, and achieved her aim. She was at last being attended to. Witness this diabolical meeting.
Yet, to be fair, some mainstream schools did do better. Caring teachers took time, showed interest, advised parents, knocked themselves out. Sure they did! He’d seen them. He’d seen the over-stretched teachers. He’d worked alongside them. He’d seen too many suffer significant burn-out. Added to everything else, Fay had been the victim of a spectacularly unlucky draw. Somewhere along the line, an experienced and dedicated teacher should have recognised her problems.
Absently, unaware of his actions, he withdrew his cigarettes and reached for the matches in his pocket.<
br />
Mary Grey, nudging him, pointed to the ‘no smoking’ sign.
‘Sorry.’ He caressed the unopened pack. The psychologist’s taunt niggled. Why, really, had he chosen to leave the real world? To work in a segregated situation? A segregated world?
He became aware of the group, still talking, still pontificating. How many families had these people dissected? How many family futures had been programmed with neither the knowledge nor the informed consent of the family? Did family support too often equate with family interference? Was the militant old man who had left right? Should he, too, have left hours ago?
‘It’s over.’ Mary Grey closed her notebook.
‘Oh?’ He apologised. ‘I wasn’t concentrating. I couldn’t take any more. Did I hear right?’
‘They’re going to recommend probation. And the Pill.’
‘So she stays at home.’
‘For now.’
‘For now,’ he echoed.
‘Precisely. If she’s in trouble again they’ll remove her from her family.’
‘Just like that.’
‘Not quite, Mr Withers. It’s all legal.’
‘I’m sure.’ Thankfully free to withdraw a cigarette, he prepared to leave. ‘I didn’t hear anything more about the attempt to brain-wash them into a hysterectomy.’
‘I guess that whole episode is history.’
‘You mean those crooks get away with it?’
‘It wasn’t mentioned again.’
‘Surprise! Surprise!’
She frowned. ‘Don’t take it like that.’
‘How can I take it?’
‘Think of your family. Why stir up anything? It’s worked out for the best.’
‘This time.’
They followed the hurriedly exiting consultants. After pausing only for a censorious nod in the direction of her teacher, Mrs Ryan disappeared through the broad front doors and presumably to her waiting car.
‘You aren’t going back to the Centre?’ Mary Grey asked.
‘I’ll phone Jenny to pick me up. She’ll be waiting to see how it went.’
‘We can give you a lift.’
‘Thanks. I’ll be okay.’
‘There’s a phone in the foyer,’ she suggested. ‘I guess I’ll see you again before too long.’
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