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More Than Sparrows

By Claire Spencerchristensen

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CHAPTER ONE

The Community Justice reception area buzzed with the usual throng of new clients flooding in to book appointments, the morning session at Westbrook courthouse over. Kate took a quick peek at the mayhem, then steered Mrs Stone over to the elevator. The poor woman was in no state to negotiate her way through that craziness.
“You’re struggling with what’s happened, Sheila, but the magistrate could have meted out a harsher sentence. It’s not as if Kelly hasn’t been cautioned before, and yes, she’s ended up with a community service order this time, but she has to make some changes.”
“Well, she wouldn’t even come inside to meet with you today, Kate. She’s ashamed to look you in the eye after this last episode. She has to get away from that rat-pack she hangs around with; drop-kicks and losers, all of them. I don’t understand why she wants to graffiti people’s property and shop-lift stuff… and as for paint-bombing the local shopping centre!” Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. “That blew my mind, that did! I don’t know my own daughter anymore! She’s like a stranger. What did we ever do to make her want to trash the community and shame us like that?”
Kate gave her a sideways hug. “You’ve done everything you can, but when you’re seventeen years old, friends can rate higher than family, Sheila.”
“Well, I can’t take much more of it. Jake and me, we’re fighting about it all the time.”
“Maybe she’ll see sense this time around. She thought she was untouchable, but now she knows she’s not, doesn’t she? She has to face up to the consequences of her actions.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. She’s turned into a right brat she has; running amok whenever her father’s working away.” Sheila dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. “I’m desperate, Kate... I wonder, would you do something for me?”
“Of course. Anything to help.”
“Would you be able to contact the churches in this area? There was a youth group here in my teens and they were good people. Somebody might be willing to board Kelly for a while; give her time to straighten herself out. She could go to a different school during the week and bus home to us on the weekends.” She pushed a handful of thinning hair back off her face. “If we have to wait for a place at the residential college in Westbrook to come up, it’ll be too late.” Her bottom lip quivered. “She’ll never make it. We’ll be back here at Justice standing in the queue, or worse still, being summoned before the bench at the courthouse again; like this morning.”
Kate tugged at the strands of blonde hair falling down over her shoulders. “So you think changing schools will make a difference? Have you mentioned it to her?”
“I brought it up. Told her I was shipping her out.”
“There aren’t a lot of options up for grabs at this time of the year, Sheila. School will be over in a couple of months. You’re hanging out for a solution, but it has to be the right one or she won’t settle to it.” She glanced up at the ceiling. Oh, God, why do we always end up at this place? This woman is being left out on a limb again. I want to do more, but my hands are tied. It doesn’t seem fair. “Do you have any relatives in town, any extended family members or friends? Someone she could stay with if she started at a new school next year?”
“No, everyone lives closer to Perth, wanting the city perks. We’re the only ones who’ve chosen a country lifestyle for our kids and look where that’s got us.”
Kate tapped her foot, the elevator slow to arrive. Something needed to change, but what? Would Kelly be a different kid if she got away from ‘the pack’? Would next year be any different if she stayed where she was? She’d lobbied the department for financial help to get extra tutoring for Kelly, to help her catch up with her studies, but all to no avail. The teenager had thumbed her nose at it all. Sheila was right about waiting for a vacancy at the residential college in town. It might never happen.
She stared down at her shoes. Why couldn’t she put her hand up; she had a spare room? Why not run with it? She’d toed the line for years, never straying from department policy, but she was all out of patience with that approach. The woman needed something to happen, and she had a solution. Was it flying too close to the wind? Sure, but shutting her eyes to the situation yet again and moving on to the next client on her list… was that really an option? No, not today, not with this lady; not with this family.
“Look, I’d even consider putting Kelly up myself if we haven’t found accommodation for her in town by February.” She nodded. “I have faith in her. She’s not a bad kid…. would have to finish the year where she is, but be enrolled at a high school in the Westbrook district for next year. She knows me. We get on.” Kate grinned. “When I see her, that is.”
Sheila stopped mid-stride and wrapped her arms around Kate’s neck. “Oh, thank goodness you’re Kelly’s case worker, Ms Dinsdale! Would you do that for her? That’d be amazing!”
Kate patted her arms. “Okay, so no more tears. Keep that thought at the back of your mind. It’s there as an option. She may not take to the idea of hanging out with me. She’s not here today, is she? You are.” She stepped up to the window overlooking the car park. The teenager was sitting cross-legged on the front seat of the family eight-seater van, bouncing to the rhythm of the music in her head-phones. Was the penny ever going to drop with Kelly? How much longer would she put her parents through hell? How much longer before she ended up in a detention centre? “I’ll call you next week, Sheila. Chin up, okay.” House Kelly at her place? Where on earth did that idea come from?
Back at her desk, she googled the ten closest churches located around the Westbrook CBD and flung down her pen in frustration. None of them had answered. She’d left contact numbers, but if that response was anything to go by, Kelly would be staying with her in February. Lord, if I need to make a personal request on behalf of the Stone family, then I’m doing it right now. I know we’re short of government services out here, but why aren’t the churches standing shoulder-to-shoulder with these people? What’s ‘the Body’ doing... where are they?
Paul’s tall, lean frame lounged against her office door, a faint smile around his mouth. “Hey Kate, what’s going on? Trying out a bit of ESP while things are quiet?” When she didn’t smile, he pulled a face. “Oops, I’ve interrupted a private moment, haven’t I? Doing that special thing you do with God?” He flashed a wide, white smile at her. “Well, don’t let me disturb you, babe. I wouldn’t want to crowd you. Things must be getting heavy though, if you’re calling in the big guns; enlisting help from the man upstairs?”
She glanced down at her desk. Short but sweet, Lord. You get my drift. “Come in, Paul.”
His eyes lingered on her face for the briefest moment before ambling into the room and perching on the corner of her desk. “I have to give it to you, lady. No matter what I say, you never give an inch, but you don’t bite either. You keep on taking it, like a true-blue born-again is supposed to do. You’re a credit to the team, Ms Dinsdale.”
She took a deep breath. Yeah, yeah, more of the same. “You’re looking very dapper today, Dr. Leeuwin. New suit?”
He fingered the lapels. “Noticed the threads. Like them?”
She stifled a smirk. Yes, he looked good, handsome, but such a peacock, loving the attention. All the repartee, the idle banter; it was a game he played. “Couldn’t help myself. Such a stylish man.”
His eyes zeroed in on the bodice of her tailored maroon suit, studying the way her blonde hair hugged her face and neck. A purring sound rolled off his tongue. “You’re the one who looks good, missy. Good enough to eat. Make my day, you do; every day.”
She fidgeted with her mobile phone. “Did you want something?”
“Other than to irritate you, not really. Thought I might check in to see how you went with Sheila Stone. I noticed she was upset in reception.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to get rid of me? Want to make a private call?”
“It can wait, but if there’s nothing else?”
“Okay, what are you up to?”
No matter what she said, he’d end up cross-examining her about it. Better to get it over with and have him leave. “Sheila asked me to check out some local charities. She went to a youth group here years ago.”
“There aren’t any new support services in Westbrook as far as I know. We’re it, aren’t we?”
“She thought the churches might help with Kelly; find some accommodation for her.”
“Oh, that’s the last place you’d look if you needed help. Anyway, it’s against department policy to press holy hands. We’re a secular institution and churches are off limits.” He stood up, thrust out his jaw and plunged his hands deep into his pockets. “Not-for-profit agencies, maybe, but churches? No way.”
“Sheila lives on a rural property on the fringe of the metro area. They only have a landline out there and she’d clock up an enormous bill making calls from there.” She shook her head. “They don’t have a lot of money.”
“You’d be flouting the rules.” He rubbed his chin. “Could get yourself into deep doo-doo, dearie. Are you willing to risk your job for that kid? She’ll re-offend no matter where she goes. She’s got history.”
Kate opened her eyes wide at him. “Well, that’s a fine attitude for a psychologist to have about a client. I’m on my lunch break anyway, and I’m using my phone. What I do in my time is my affair.”
“Not if it means involving yourself in the private lives of your clients.” He wagged his finger at her. “You’d be walking into quicksand.”
“Sheila’s half out of her mind with worry, and we both know trawling through official channels doesn’t guarantee a result. There are never any vacancies.” She grimaced. “Regardless of what you say, I feel Kelly can turn things around and I’ve promised her mother I’ll try to find a solution one last time.”
“Well, you’d better pray it doesn’t get out on the office hotline, princess.”
“You did say ‘pray’… didn’t you? Or was that a Freudian slip? Psych’s make them like everyone else, don’t they?”
He thrust his hands in the air. “Okay! I asked for that, but I caution you, Kate. Go carefully with this.”
She watched him stalk out of the room, rolling her eyes. So cool.
Two hours later, he was back, inquisitive and expectant. “Let me see. The churches were too busy tending their flocks to rescue an outsider, right? What excuse did they have this time?”
She rested her chin on her knuckles. “Sorry to disappoint you. At least one minister returned my call. He’s following up on a possibility.”
“Sure he is.” He chuckled. “He’s letting you down gently, Kate, that’s all. The only thing churches are interested in is your money and bums on seats. Unless you’re invited into their exclusive social club or controlled by the elite group at the top, you’re nobody. It’s all superficial clap-trap, the whole thing.” He shook his head. “He won’t get back to you. It’ll come to nothing.”
“And you’re a full bottle on it, are you?”
He ignored the challenge, scanning the memos pinned on the noticeboard behind her chair. “I enjoy ribbing you, that’s all. Am I getting to you after all this time?”
She folded her arms and stared back at him. He was such a pain.
“Whoa. Didn’t like that answer, huh?” He laughed lightly. “I love winding you up, watching you defend your faith. I know if I persist, I’ll see those luminous, violet orbs of yours light up like stars in the sky. It’s worth stirring you to see that happen.”
“Was there anything else, Dr. Leeuwin? Have you quite finished?”
“Oh, come on, Kate. It’s fun, isn’t it? Sparring with you helps to keep things in perspective. There’s more to life than sad stories, and our days are full of them.” He slipped off her desk. “I’d better get back. Stacey Allen’s parents are coming in.”
“How’s she going?”
“Not good. Is off the glue, hasn’t re-offended, but is seriously depressed. They want to have a chat. I’ll catch you later.” He turned to leave. “And Kate, don’t forget what I said—seeking help from outside agencies other than those gazetted by the department makes management look bad. They won’t appreciate it if it gets back to them. The public service is strictly secular and you’re being an idiot!”
“Are you worried about me?”
“Don’t listen to me then.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, he was gone.
She shook her head. He was such an enigma. On one hand, he was a decent, compassionate person, committed to his clients, yet on the other, he was an unabashed womaniser without a partner and living alone. If only she could tap into what lay behind that sardonic smile, she’d cope with the sarcastic needling and the constant judgement a lot better. Yes, he could be an egotistical, ruthless individual, yet was still capable of heartfelt grief. On one occasion, she’d found him in his office sobbing over the death of a youngster, and on another, shattered at the cruelty metered out by a couple to their children. Beneath it all, hidden away, and for reasons unknown, he had a deep-seated resentment of all things ‘religious.’ Many times, she’d wanted to shout in anger at his merciless taunting, the crude, rude remarks, but she was never permitted to do so. There was always a check in her spirit to hold, hold, until she could drive the power and the pain of his words out of her mind and heart… till the next time things boiled over. What was he doing working in a government office under a team leader, anyway? He had a PhD and was more qualified than most of the Justice staff. Why had he settled for less pay when he could earn top dollar? Had he done something ‘unpalatable’?
She glanced across at the framed Scripture she kept on her desk. Sure enough, there it was, face-down as usual. What is it with that man, Lord? Why does he hate us so much? She set it back in an upright position, reading the words aloud once more. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Acknowledge the Lord in all your ways and He will make your path straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6.

###

Her home was a place of refreshing, a refuge from the world; a tiny cottage tucked away in the hills on the edge of a forest. It was her favourite place, the walls covered with water-colours bought from a roadside artist in East Anglia, mosaics crafted by villagers in the Italian Alps, wall-hangings from the Paris markets. None of them worth anything, but thoughtfully arranged, she’d created an atmosphere of ambient warmth and welcome, and today, her home was more important to her than ever.
“And how’s Will?” She gave the old, black Labrador a chest-rub, dumped her keys and shoulder bag on the oak dresser and slipped off her heels, the pressures of the day lifting off her with every step. Pulling her blouse out over her skirt, she padded into the kitchen, switched on the kettle, scooped English Breakfast tea into a ceramic teapot and pressed ‘play’ on her ancient answering machine and headed for her bedroom. Moments later, she emerged dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and walking shoes, her hair twisted up on top of her head with a scrunchie. The Labrador grunted and slumped down against the wall; everything was on schedule.
“Kate dear, it’s Betty here. A quick reminder about cell group on Wednesday night. We missed you last week. Hope work has settled down a bit. You’ve been looking exhausted, pet. God bless.”
“That’s how I’m feeling, Betty; wrung out.” When she’d moved to Western Australia to take up the social work position with the Justice Department, she discovered the Wakefields were not only her retired neighbours but fellow believers attending the same church. Now they were like her surrogate family. Taking down the Royal Albert cup and saucer her brother Nick had given her the previous Christmas, she nodded to herself. It was something she only ever did when she was feeling low, homesick or both.
“Hey, Kate missed you after the service on Sunday. You whizzed out of there like your pants were on fire, girlfriend. Are you okay? Want to come over for dinner tomorrow night? Let’s have a chinwag over some chilli? My place at 6pm? Luv ya.”
“Love you too, Frieda.” It was so like her short, round friend to sense something was amiss; her inquisitive dark eyes were built-in homing devices. Yes, she’d left straight after church; wasn’t up to listening to all the chatter about the building project. The whole place was humming with it. Her life was filled with too many miserable people to get excited about a new hall.
She set the cup and saucer on the tray along with a jug of milk, a chocolate fudge brownie, and her mail when Bridie Schofield’s cheerful voice gushed into life. “Kate, forgot to remind you there’s an extra hockey practice after work on Friday. We’re playing the Middleton office team this Saturday and they’re a tough team; final playoffs are coming up. We want to win this year. I’ll fill you in tomorrow morning. Bye for now.”
She grimaced. Another thing to squeeze in. Bridie was such a dear, always sunny, forever helpful, never negative. Why didn’t she feel like Bridie? Where had her zest for life gone? Opening the rear sliding-glass doors, she stepped out onto the deck and put down the tray. The scent of flowering gums in the garden filled the air, their honeyed perfume wafting over her on a light breeze. Young wallabies on the nature reserve below her house flicked their ears in her direction, the resident parrots pausing only briefly before resuming their ceaseless chatter. It warmed her heart knowing the local wildlife viewed her property as an extension of their own territory; she was a part of their inner circle.
Refreshed by the tea, she relaxed back against the patio cane lounge and closed her eyes. I felt to speak to Sheila about You today, Lord. I wanted to comfort her, to urge her to put her to trust in You, but I couldn’t do that, could I? So where were the people called to that ministry? They sure weren’t answering their phones; off having tea and cake with their church families. She frowned. I know they were out supporting needy church families, but what about the ‘other’ people, the ones I meet every day at the office; the Godless stragglers, the unlovely, the miserable? You’ve given me a heart for them, but I often feel as though I’m offering bandaid solutions when a different worldview would change their perspective on life completely.
Her mind flew back to the overseas excursions she’d taken with her church as a teenager. Trips to the Philippines, to Timor and Bangladesh, working with aid agencies to erect toilets and dig wells, to plant trees and irrigate fields; projects to improve their quality of life. Even then, she’d had an evangelist’s heart, but there’d been little time to talk with the local people about the gospel. She returned home filled with a burning desire to work with the poor and disadvantaged, her heart set on working as a missionary one day. Social work had been a natural choice at university, preparing her well for a career helping people; a means to an end...
Draining her cup, she sifted through the mail, pushing it aside to gaze up at the reddening sky. Am I a square peg in a round hole? Is that why I have this internal conflict going on; why I feel so agitated about what happened today? And it’s not only about today, is it? I’ve been churning about things for months. Do I even belong in the Justice department? Thought I was in the right place, thought You put me there, but now I’m not so sure. She pulled a face. And my church forking out money for a hall doesn’t help either.
Wilbur pawed at the sliding door.
Offering to accommodate Kelly was my idea, but I felt pushed into it. She shook her head. What do You want me to do? I need to hear from You.
“Okay, Wills.”

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