The Child Who by Simon Lelic Page A

armchair and a pile of thumbed magazines: Top Gear , Autocar , Bike . There were bars outside the window but the window itself was ajar. The view was of the building’s hollow centre: air-conditioning units, mainly. The impression Leo had was of a cheap hotel room. Not fancy but a long way from what he had feared.
    ‘This isn’t so bad,’ he said, peering around the screen at the lidless toilet. On the sink there was a tub of hair gel, some toothpaste without a cap and a Buzz Lightyear toothbrush. The mirror on the wall was polished metal.
    The boy, when Leo emerged, had sunk into the chair, the only one in the room. Garrie was waiting in the corridor through the open door, which left Leo to pick his perch. He settled himself on the edge of Daniel’s bed and felt beneath him the unmistakable crinkle of rubber sheets. Standard issue, he wondered, or only for those who had shown a need?
    ‘So,’ said Leo. ‘How are you finding things?’ He tried to keep his tone light; tried not to worry that he had allowed Daniel to position himself in the path towards the only way out. He glanced at Garrie, who had his eyes averted but his attention, surely, on his ward. ‘It’s a nice room,’ Leo found himself saying. ‘A good size. It’s got to be at least as big as your room at home, right?’
    The boy’s eyes snapped to his. ‘You went to my house?’
    ‘What? No. I mean, I was only guessing.’
    A silence.
    ‘What are the people like? The other boys. And Bobby? Bobby seems . . . er . . . cool.’
    Daniel, hunched, twitched a shoulder. ‘He’s all right.’
    ‘And the other boys? Are you getting along okay?’
    Again a twitch. ‘They’re older mostly. Bigger.’
    Leo nodded. There were boys here as old as eighteen and Daniel, at twelve, would not normally have been admitted. The choice, for the magistrates, had been between sending Daniel here or keeping him further from his family.
    ‘But you’re getting on okay?’
    Leo waited for an answer but the boy did not reply. Leo tapped his fingers on his briefcase.
    ‘Where’s Mum?’ said Daniel. He jerked upright and Leo flinched. ‘Is she coming?’
    ‘She is, Daniel,’ said Leo, recovering himself. ‘She’ll be here this afternoon. I thought it might be helpful, though, for you and I to have a chance to talk alone.’
    ‘Alone,’ Daniel echoed. ‘Without him , you mean.’
    Right. Without him .
    ‘He told me . . .’ Daniel looked up, as though wary of whether to continue. Leo gave the faintest of nods. ‘He told me to get rid of you. After last time. He said . . . he said you were a . . .’ his voice dwindled ‘. . . a waste of space.’
    ‘Who did? Your father?’
    Daniel glowered. ‘Step.’
    Leo held his thumbs against the catches of his briefcase. ‘Step,’ he repeated. ‘Sorry.’
    ‘He said . . .’ Daniel shuffled slightly straighter in his seat. ‘He said he’d pay for someone better. Said he’d get a loan if he had to.’
    Slowly, Leo nodded. ‘What about your mother? What did your mother say?’
    The boy just shrugged.
    Leo hesitated. ‘And you? What about you?’
    Daniel looked down. ‘You’re here, aren’t you?’
    Leo almost smiled. He pressed and the catches clicked. ‘Let’s get started, shall we?’ He took out his pad and his pen and set them beside him on the bed. He was about to close his case again when he remembered. ‘I brought you something,’ he said, digging beneath a clutch of papers. ‘Here,’ he said and he held out a box no bigger than a soap dish. Inside was a Subaru Impreza, exactly to scale apparently and far too expensive for what was in essence a child’s toy. ‘They didn’t have one in white, I’m afraid. Just the rally version.’
    Daniel eyed the car. He eyed Leo and his outstretched arm.
    ‘It’s fine. I cleared it on the way in. Take it, it’s yours.’
    ‘What for?’
    ‘You like cars, don’t you? I thought you’d appreciate it, that’s all.’
    ‘What do I have to do? I’m not