There was silence for a moment. Then: 'You take her back to her family, and we deal with it in the morning. Listen, Shane, Little Scamps is ultimately Tristan's responsibility. Maybe we should be talking to him about things. The situation in the place is ... complicated, to say the least. I mean, let's face it, Tammy is not in a good place and Mitzi that kid is f.u.c.ked up, man.'

'Is that your professional a.s.sessment?'

'You're the guy with the letters after his name,' Lonnie shot back.

'I'm going to take this little one home, then, and I'll talk to you tomorrow. I a.s.sume it's okay if Millie sleeps over?'

'We're already in our jammies and are about to put on facemasks and do one another's hair.'

'I thought so.'

'All right, then drive safely.'

'I will. And, Lonnie?'

'Yeah?'

'Thanks for everything today. You had my back, even though I didn't always have yours.'

'Heavy is the burden carried by the manager, my friend.'

'You can say that again.'

He didn't. He hung up.

18.

I have not been blessed with a natural sense of direction, and even though I had been out to Tammy's home once before, I had not been driving and therefore hadn't been paying very close attention to the route the bus took. It therefore required several attempts, and some prompting from Tammy in the form of nods, grunts and pointing, to find my way to the odd little semicircle of houses adjoining its tidal swamp.

A half-moon hung amid scudding clouds in a sky pockmarked with glistening stars as I carried the tired child up to the front door. The wind hissed and whispered through the high reeds, and bats dive-bombed insects that cl.u.s.tered around a skeletal tree near the low wall.

By the coast, the air was even colder and heavy with mist, and I was anxious to get Tammy, tough nut though she was, out of the elements. She'd had enough adventures for one day and I knew I had.

As I had feared, repeated knocking did not elicit a response. Through a gla.s.s panel beside the door I could see a light down what I presumed to be a hallway, but I was painfully aware that this did not mean anyone was at home. Kneeling down, Tammy still under my arm, I called in through the letterbox: 'h.e.l.lo, it's Shane, from Little Scamps I have Tammy here, and she really could do with getting to bed!'

Deeply frustrated and getting annoyed again, I hammered on the door. I heard the booming echo throughout the rooms, but it died away and we were left only with the whooshing of the wind through the bushes and whin trees behind us.

'I don't think anyone's in there, Tam,' I said at last, feeling utterly deflated.

The child shook her head in what might have been pity, hopped off my hip, reached down under the grimy doormat and took out a key. She handed it to me, motioning at the lock with a knowing nod.

'I don't think I should just go on in,' I said wearily. 'It's not my house.'

Tammy hopped up on to the plastic chair I had seen her use before, and held out her hand for the key.

I pa.s.sed it to her.

A second later we were inside. I knew as soon as I was standing in the hallway that the house was not empty it didn't have that edgy, uncomfortable feeling empty houses have. Tammy took my hand and led me down the hallway. The place smelt of cigarette smoke and cheap beer, like pubs used to before the smoking ban. Somewhere above us I could just make out the American punk band Green Day playing on tinny speakers the song, I knew, was called 'Basket Case'. It seemed appropriate.

The room at the end of the hall was a kitchen and Kylie, Tammy's mother, was propped up at a rickety table, a can of lager in front of her, a cigarette burned down to the b.u.t.t smouldering in her hand. She was asleep. Tammy patted her elbow and she stirred into awareness.

'I've brought Tammy home,' I said, when her eyes were focused on me.

'She's late,' Kylie said shakily. 'She missed her dinner.'

'I'm sorry about that,' I said. 'I fed her before we drove out.'

'I know you,' the woman said, her eyes narrowing. I recognized the expression Tammy used it sometimes.

'Yes. We met out at the lake that day. I found Tammy in the water and brought her to you.'

'Oh yeah. You want your towel back?'

I had to smile at that. 'No. Please accept it as a gift.'

She snorted. 'Needs a wash, anyway.'

There wasn't much to say to that. I tried to a.s.sess the situation: Kylie was drunk, but far from incoherent, and it seemed likely that Tammy would be going straight to bed anyway. I didn't think much could happen to her between the time I left and her arrival at Little Scamps the following morning. I decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and said my goodbyes.

'I'm going to head on,' I said. 'I'll see you tomorrow, Tammy. Apologies again, for keeping her so late today.'

Kylie dismissed me with a wave, and took a hefty gulp from her can. I left the two of them in the kitchen, and went back out to my car, feeling I might murder someone for a cigarette and wondering if I had made a bad day even worse by abandoning Tammy to the tender mercies of her mother.

I slept little that night, tossing and turning, the events and revelations of the day going round and round in my head as the hours dripped by. At five thirty, the sun already fully over the horizon, I showered and dressed and, a travel mug of coffee in hand, went out to the Austin.

I knew Tristan Fowler to be an early riser, and felt Lonnie's suggestion that I consult him was a sound one. His house was a half-hour drive away, and with no traffic on the road in the early morning I made it in twenty minutes.

As I had suspected, Tristan was out the back of his property, in the field where he kept his small collection of livestock. He had some chickens, a donkey and a couple of goats, and as I approached he was scattering seed for the clucking birds.

'You're up and about unusually early,' he said, when I leaned on the fence he had constructed to keep the animals in.

'Maybe I'll catch a worm,' I said.

'Maybe you will. How can I help you?'

'All is not well at Little Scamps,' I said. 'Actually, it's pretty s.h.i.t.'

'Tell me.'

I explained about the events of the previous day, how badly things had gone, and how I felt I had only aggravated things. 'I'm going to be absolutely honest, Tristan,' I finished. 'I think I'm the wrong man for this job. You should have picked someone else, because it looks to me like I'm going to run that setting into the ground if I'm allowed to continue as I am.'

Tristan had finished with the hens and was pouring some feed from a bucket into a kind of trough for the goats.

'What are you saying, Shane?' he said. 'Do you want to throw your hat at it? Come back to Drumlin?'

'Yes!' I said. 'This is really not my area. I'm not good at it.'

'And what do I do with Lonnie? Will he come back with you?'

I sighed.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. 'Do I detect some dissent?'

'No. Yes. I'm not sure,' I said. 'I've been having some ... issues, I'd suppose you'd call them.'

'Oh, yes?'

'Seeing Lonnie working at Little Scamps and doing very well, might I add hasn't been easy for me.'

'Why do you think that is?' Tristan asked.

'I don't know. It's weird.'

'How so?'

'I think I'm jealous.' I said. 'And maybe even a little resentful.'

Tristan nodded. He opened a small gate in the fence and came out to me. 'Lonnie Whitmore has made a transition not a lot of people make,' he said, walking slowly back towards the house. 'When he came to us, it was as a member of our client group. And while many might suggest that it is not politically correct to say so, the truth is that when we found him in that house, he needed to be a part of the client group. When I was certain he no longer needed help in that way, I began to give him responsibility and offer him tasks that suited a care worker at the unit, and I got him some training. I'm glad I did. I think he might be quite a talented worker.'

'He is,' I agreed glumly. 'He might be better than me.'

'Perhaps,' Tristan said. 'I know Lonnie's your friend, but you have to admit that, in the beginning, he was sort of a project for you.'

'That's a hard thing to say,' I said, feeling quite wretched.

'Indeed. But it's true,' Tristan said. 'Here was a case the like of which you had never seen before, and you were fascinated. I wondered, back at the beginning, if I should warn you off.'

'Why didn't you?'

Tristan pondered. 'I thought you might help one another.'

That knocked me for six. 'How so?'

'Loneliness runs both ways.'

We walked for a few minutes in silence.

'I mean it,' I said at last. 'I'm advising you leave Lonnie right where he is, and take me back to Drumlin. I'll be more use where I'm comfortable.'

'I'm not going to do that,' Tristan said.

'Why the h.e.l.l not?' I asked. 'I'm handing you my resignation!'

'And I'm not accepting it,' Tristan said. 'You're finding the job much tougher than you expected. You've discovered that working alongside Lonnie and seeing him flourish and spread his wings is difficult too. Drumlin offers a protective bubble the challenges of running a busy creche can magnify existing problems.'

'That's for b.l.o.o.d.y sure,' I said sulkily.

'And have you considered that your jealousy or resentment is not necessarily just because Lonnie's doing well but because others are seeing him as you have as a person and you're protective of that? You and Lonnie have a bond. Sometimes it's intrusive to let other people in on that.'

'Yeah,' I said. 'Maybe.'

Tristan nodded sagely. 'Go into work today,' he said. 'I know you have plenty of ideas as to how you can sort out the issues in Little Scamps. Put a couple into action. Be proactive.'

'I've tried to be. I'm just alienating the staff and driving the kids to distraction.'

'Grow up, Shane,' Tristan said. 'Talk to your people. Ask them, don't tell them. If something you've tried doesn't work, adjust your technique. Look to the individual needs of the children, then try to respond to them. Come on, man, you've been doing this work a long time. You're getting a bit long in the tooth to be throwing temper tantrums.'

'Well, thanks for your sensitivity and understanding,' I said.

'Shane, I am very, very fond of you,' Tristan said, grabbing me in a bear hug. 'But sometimes, you can get just a little caught up in navel-gazing.'

'Thanks,' I said. 'I think.'

19.

I arrived at the creche early and spent an hour rearranging furniture in the main playroom. Everything had been taken out to facilitate the painting project, and for the past two days we had lived in the kitchen and the outdoor area. Now I felt we needed somewhere as a central operating point again. Anyway, we didn't require quite so much s.p.a.ce to work on the murals they didn't pose such a risk of paint-splatter and spillage.

On my way to work I had stopped at a twenty-four-hour supermarket and bought a couple of boxes of good breakfast cereal, some bread and a few cartons of juice. I also picked up some card, sticky tape and markers. I was ready for the day, and felt slightly better about myself at least I was being proactive.

I explained my plans to Susan, Tush and Lonnie when they arrived, and they all agreed to give my ideas a go. While yesterday's debacle had presented us with some challenges, they were not so great we hadn't been able to deal with them Susan said I deserved a chance to redeem myself. And, of course, my latest scheme posed no threat to life or limb.

When the bus pulled up outside, the tables had been set for breakfast. A large brightly coloured box with a slot in the top and a pile of brightly coloured cards sat in the middle among the plates of toast and jars of jam and marmalade.

The kids stood in their tight cl.u.s.ter when they came in, faced for the third day running with a major change. We had discussed as a staff group that we could not keep presenting them with such overwhelming upheavals the stress would do more harm than good. I a.s.sured my colleagues that this would be the last. And I had a very good reason for it, anyway.

'Tammy gets no lunch, other than the one we provide,' I said, 'and she's not getting breakfast either. That means the first food she's consuming every day is around twelve thirty in the afternoon. How can we possibly expect her to learn anything when she doesn't know where the next meal is going to come from?'

'She knows we'll feed her,' Tush said. 'We always do.'

'Have you ever talked to her about it?' I asked. 'Rea.s.sured her?'

'No. I didn't want to embarra.s.s her or anything.'

'I know you didn't,' I said. 'Look, you've been doing a great job the food you're giving the child is probably what's keeping her going. I just think we need to formalize it a little. And it's not just Tammy who has problems with food.'

'Rufus,' Susan said. 'He steals food from the other kids now and again. And I know he comes in hungry a lot. Particularly on Mondays.'