Crying for Help: The Shocking True Story of a Damaged Girl with a Dark Past. Casey Watson

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СКАЧАТЬ she observed, not inaccurately. I was pretty cold myself. After all, it was January. And this was a conservatory.

      ‘It’ll warm up soon,’ I said, turning round to greet her properly. ‘I just put the heating back on, so –’

      I stopped and gaped then, on seeing her, pretty much lost for words. She’d come down in what’s generally described as ‘baby doll’ pyjamas. But there was nothing doll-like about them, and certainly nothing babyish, either. They were not only very short and frilly, and fashioned from scarlet nylon, they were also very, very transparent.

      ‘Good Lord!’ I said. ‘No wonder you’re cold, dressed like that! Haven’t you got anything more suitable to put on?’

      ‘What d’you mean?’ she asked, innocently, looking down at the wisps of material. ‘It’s a nightie. All my nighties are like this.’

      ‘Then we’ll need to get you some new ones. Do you at least have a dressing gown?’

      She shook her head. ‘I don’t wear them. Anyway, what’s wrong with this? Jean lets me wear these.’

      I put my stash of leaflets down and stood up to return to the kitchen. It was making me feel cold just looking at her. ‘Sweetie,’ I said, ‘quite apart from the fact that you’ll catch your death, there are no men at Jean’s house, are there? But here …’ I thought instantly of the rapport she’d struck up with Kieron, and how he might react, faced with such a sight. He wouldn’t know where to look. He’d be mortified. ‘Well, it’s just not appropriate, love, okay? Though, I have to say –’ I couldn’t help voice what I was thinking. After all, the child was 12. ‘I’m surprised she let you wear those sort of nightclothes, in any case.’

      Sophia stuck her lip out. ‘Well she did.’

      Best, perhaps, I thought, to let this go for now. She was bound to be sensitive about Jean, after all. ‘Well, we’ll see what we can find when we go shopping.’

      ‘We’re going shopping?’

      ‘Yes,’ I said, heading back into the kitchen. ‘This morning. With my daughter Riley. And my grandson, little Levi. You’ll love him,’ I assured her. ‘He’s gorgeous.’

      ‘A baby?’ She brightened instantly. ‘Oh, I love babies! How old is he?’

      Baby talk, I thought. Never failed to come in useful.

      If the idea of Levi had put such a smile on Sophia’s face, actually meeting him in the flesh would, I knew, have her squealing with delight.

      I was biased, obviously, but my little grandson was just lovely. Born the previous October, he was now just beginning to recognise faces, and delighted everyone with his broad toothless smile. It had been a shock, Riley starting a family so young, not least to her, I think – but she and her partner David had been together for a couple of years now, and they were a really solid couple. They were also turning out to be wonderfully relaxed, natural parents; Riley was obviously really cut out to be a mum.

      And me a nanna, even though when they’d first told us, it had taken Mike and me a few days to adjust to the idea of becoming grandparents at the youthful age of 40 and 41 respectively. In our heads we were still just young newlyweds ourselves!

      Little Levi couldn’t have come at a better time, either, as it was just before we had to say farewell to Justin, our last foster child, which had been a wrench and a half, to say the least.

      I smiled as rustled up some scrambled eggs for us both, and Sophia took her tablets. She had two different pills to take in the mornings, then further doses of one of them twice more during the day. I smiled at her as I watched her carefully re-close the bottles. It would be nice to have another youngster in the family mix again. Whatever the travails ahead, I was sure I could handle them. Underneath all the outward behavioural oddities, this was just another child who needed some stability and love, after all.

      ‘And Mike’s going to pop out and get some picture hooks on his way home from work,’ I told her, as she tucked into her eggs. ‘So he can put up all your paintings in your room for you.’

      She pulled a bit of a face. ‘I don’t know why Jean bought all those canvases for me, to be honest,’ she said. ‘I just pointed to one I liked when we were out shopping one day, and next thing she, like, started this whole collection for me.’

      I had wondered about them myself, as had Mike. It did seem an odd thing for a 12-year-old to have her own art collection. And even though they were prints, and not originals, this was an art collection, there was no doubt about that. They were all by the same artist, and clearly of some quality. I’d initially wondered if they’d come from her mother’s home. But apparently not. Sophia had seen the first one when she and Jean had been on a trip to London, and Jean had bought it for her right away. ‘And she got the rest of them by mail order,’ Sophia explained. ‘I think the woman who painted them used to send them herself.’

      ‘Well, it was nice of Jean to do that for you, wasn’t it?’ I said.

      ‘I s’pose,’ she agreed. ‘But Jean was pretty easy like that. I could get anything I wanted from her, basically.’

      Again, I was brought up short by her words. What an inappropriate thing to say to another adult! I could imagine kids in a playground making comments like this, but here? To me? Another foster carer? I smiled anyway. ‘Is that right?’ I said. ‘Hmm. Well, I think you’ll find I’m not quite such an easy touch. I value my money too much, I’m afraid!’

      This didn’t seem to faze her. Quite the contrary, in fact. ‘Ah, yeah,’ she said, polishing off her last mouthful of toast. ‘But I happen to know how much allowance foster carers get for kids, and it’s only fair it gets spent on us, isn’t it?’

      Astonishing. Just astonishing. ‘Hmm,’ I said again, ‘well, I don’t know what you’ve heard – and I’m surprised people have even talked to you about this, to be honest – but believe me, that allowance is not there as pocket money, to be spent on anything and everything a child wants. It’s to care for you, Sophia. To pay for your keep, plus things like outings and holidays, and clothes – speaking of which, we’d better get our skates on. Riley’ll be here with Levi any minute.’

      Sophia stood up and took her plate over to the sink, looking completely unconcerned. I nodded towards the hall. ‘Go on, scoot upstairs and get yourself dressed and ready, okay? Oh, and don’t forget to make your bed!’ I called after her.

      My God, I thought, as I poured hot water onto the few bits of crockery. That girl really knew how to push buttons. Sounded like she had Jean wrapped right around her little finger – and didn’t seem to care who knew it, either. It was going to be a learning curve for Sophia, living with us, I thought wryly.

      But, as I’d find out, it would be an even bigger one for me.

      Chapter 5

      Levi was beginning to recognise faces now, and it was wonderful to see the big grin he gave me when I swooped towards the pram and lifted him up. Grandchildren, I decided, should be available on the NHS.

      ‘How’s my little man, then?’ I asked him. ‘As gorgeous as ever? You want a coffee, love?’ I asked Riley. ‘Sophia’s still upstairs getting ready, so we’ve got time.’

      Riley nodded, and went to flick СКАЧАТЬ