Worst Case Scenario by Helen FitzGerald

Author:Helen FitzGerald [Helen FitzGerald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781912374700
Publisher: Orenda Books Ltd
Published: 2019-05-05T16:00:00+00:00

No wonder Sheriff Mackay hated social workers! Mary scanned the background section for anything that made sense.

‘John Paul’s mother died of a heroin overdose when he was a baby.’

‘Lived with his Grandpa Joseph, a road worker, and was very happy till he carked it.’

‘Got into music with his grandpa, still into it.’

His grandpa was Joseph O’Donnell! In Mary’s mind, John Paul’s grandpa was an elderly man behind a tobacco counter, but he was Mary’s age, or would be if he hadn’t been run over by a truck when John Paul was fourteen. Fourteen: bad age, for a boy. If shit goes down at home and you happen to be fourteen, you’re fucked.

Mary had been a big part of Joseph’s life for a year after he took over the care of JP, as they called the baby then. During one of Mary’s manic clear-outs, she gave Joseph her vinyl collection as a prize for doing everything right and therefore being free of social work forever. Joseph put on Dire Straits, held baby JP and danced round the living room singing with joy. Mary remembered the baby’s bright eyes and his meaty chuckle. He was inclined to be happy, that kid.

The baby, now twenty-one, was approaching. His eyes were still bright, but for different reasons. He did not look inclined to be happy. He sat with a grunt, spread his legs as wide apart as possible and crossed his arms.

‘Hi there, I’m Mary Shields.’ She extended her hand to shake John Paul’s, having decided many years ago that she’d rather risk getting hep C than be an arsehole.

Eventually, John Paul unlocked his arms and offered his hand, which was shaky, and dripping with sweat. ‘How long will this take?’

Men often entered these rooms angry, filled with distressing problems that it was too late to get help with, fully expecting another telling-off, another putting-down. Last week, she interviewed accidental murderer William Smith, for example. When he walked in, he looked like he could have murdered again, on purpose this time. William had crossed his arms and remained silent for five minutes. At the fifteen-minute mark he was crying because Mary had asked and listened and was coming up with some ideas. Angry didn’t scare Mary. You could do something with angry.

‘It’ll take three, three and a half hours. Why, do you have a date? In D Hall?’

‘Ha ha.’

Perhaps he was inclined towards happiness after all.

‘Just I have an AA meeting at eleven.’ He looked like every twenty-one-year-old she’d met in this place: a raw, angry, terrified kid trying his best to get on with his first stint in an adult jail, fully expecting it would not be his last.

‘You can refuse the interview if you like. I’m not forcing you.’ Please refuse! Then she wouldn’t have to do it. Why wasn’t she home in bed?

‘No, no, just that. It’s good, the AA and all that. Don’t want to miss it.’

Mary laid out her papers on the table and clicked her pen. ‘I’ll be as fast as I can.

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