The Girl Who Couldn't Smile by Shane Dunphy Read Free Book Online

files because they contain opinions and conclusions drawn by other people, many of whom have had only the most cursory contact with the subject.
    One of the distasteful truths about childcare work is that relationships are not equal in any meaningful way: the adults are always in a position of power, in terms of size and authority as well as in knowledge of the lives of the children with whom they work. A child in a crèche will know a littleabout the various staff members – some will be more open than others about their private lives – but almost every child-care worker will know a huge amount about the family and friends of all the children in their care. Children talk, and their innocence prevents them censoring their commentary. It all comes out – Mammy drank too much wine last night and had a headache this morning so Daddy had to bring me into crèche; my brother has smelly feet; my uncle is in prison … Nothing is sacred. Workers are governed by rules of confidentiality, but the imbalance remains. I was aware of it, but helpless to do much to redress it. If I wanted to make any real headway with Tammy, I was going to have to learn a bit more about her.
    The file ran to about twenty pages, a quarter of which dealt with Tammy’s birth and early infancy. There was a section on intervention by a social worker that had come to nothing, and a letter from a woman who ran a playschool near Tammy’s home – it was she who was ultimately responsible for Tammy being in Little Scamps: she had written to Child Services when Tammy’s conduct became unmanageable. I leafed through various pages, making notes as I went. I saw words like aggressive and antisocial . I read that Tammy was intellectually subnormal and exhibited no social skil ls . Yet nowhere did I see any assessments having been carried out to back up these assumptions, and absolutely no evidence of anything having been done to tackle such serious issues. In fact, it seemed to me that a lot had been done to help Tammy’s parents while she had been allowed to stew in her own juice.
    After an hour I was left with three names: Imelda Gibb, a public-health nurse who had worked closely with the family when Tammy was very little; Fiona Thomson, a social worker who had stepped in when Imelda moved on; andSonya Kitchell, who had managed the pre-school Tammy had attended before Little Scamps.
    Other than these names, my trawl through the file had taught me nothing I did not already know. I hoped the three women might be able to fill in at least some of the vast gaps in my knowledge of this enigmatic child. I stood up, stretched, and put the file back in its cabinet in the office. I thought I might take Millie for a walk after dinner – I needed air and space.

9
    It was six thirty by the time I got home. I was renting a little cottage, a one-bedroom affair with a bit of garden. The owner, a semi-retired farmer who lived on a neighbouring hill, had helped me to put up an enclosure for Millie, a development my new canine friend viewed with distaste.
    As I pulled up in the Austin I could see her standing upright, staring directly at me, and as I got out of the car she began whining and growling at me in tones of complaint.
    I let her out and she tore around the garden three times, finally stopping on the front lawn to mark her territory. I noted with resignation that my previously verdant grass was becoming pock-marked with burned patches where similar displays had occurred, and went inside to make supper.
    In all the fluster of starting in Little Scamps I had neglected to do any grocery shopping, but a quick perusal of the freezer unearthed some diced beef, and the vegetable tray had a couple of dried-up onions and two shrivelled chillies. I stuck the beef into the microwave to defrost and then, with Millie following me in case I happened to drop anything edible, I went out to the garden to see if there was anything to offer to the pot.
    My efforts were rewarded with two