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

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СКАЧАТЬ so much.’

      ‘You’re welcome,’ I said. ‘I’m looking forward to trying it, as it happens. I’ve never had beans and cheese on toast together before.’

      ‘Oh, you’ll love it,’ she assured me. ‘It’s gorg. Really gorg.’

      Perhaps this was my moment. ‘By the way,’ I said lightly. ‘I had a letter from social services earlier. They’ve arranged for you to visit your mum Sunday week.’

      A full minute passed before she responded in any way. She just carried on eating, mechanically putting forkfuls in her mouth. Then she finally lifted her head. ‘And?’

      ‘And nothing,’ I said, keeping my tone breezy. ‘I just thought I ought to let you know. Are you okay, love?’

      ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said, putting down her knife and fork. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I’m not really hungry. Is it okay if I go upstairs and finish my unpacking? I still have some things to sort out.’

      ‘Yes, yes, love,’ I said quickly. ‘Of course that’s okay. We did have that big breakfast this morning, after all. Probably not a good idea to … well …’

      But I stopped speaking because by now she’d already left the room. I sat there not knowing what to think. Had that gone well or hadn’t it? At least she hadn’t kicked off or become visibly upset. And going quiet and wanting some time alone – well, that seemed normal. After all, how did you deal with having your mum effectively dead, yet still there, alive in a hospital bed? The closest analogy I could think of was having a loved one with Alzheimer’s – still there but not there. Not to communicate with, anyway. But that tended to be problem for adults with their elderly parents. This was a child. It was unusual and grim territory.

      I got up and cleared the table. I’d leave her with her thoughts for a bit. She knew where I was if she wanted to talk about it. But she’d only known me a few days so I doubted she would. Instead I went to ring John Fulshaw so he was kept up to date. She stayed up there – I could hear the odd clatter of drawers opening and closing – for pretty much the rest of the afternoon. I must remember, I thought, as I pottered around downstairs, to warn Mike and Kieron that she might be a little preoccupied.

      And just how preoccupied we were soon to find out. I’d roasted a piece of gammon for our tea, and also done as I’d intended: warned both Mike and Kieron of the news I’d imparted that lunchtime, and how they’d probably find her a little sad and subdued. But when she rattled down the stairs, obviously having heard Kieron’s voice, she seemed quite the opposite: bright as a button.

      ‘Hi Kieron,’ she said, as though they were mates from way back. ‘Good day at college? I’ve got school next week. Groan. But maybe you can help me with my homework!’

      Mike gave me a look as if to say ‘Quiet?’, while Kieron shook his head emphatically. ‘Trust me, you don’t want me helping you,’ he said. ‘You’ll get it all wrong. I was rubbish at school.’

      ‘Only joking!’ she came back with. ‘I’m actually quite brainy. Get it from my mum’s side!’ Then she laughed like a drain.

      The silence was uncomfortable and further eyebrows were covertly raised, and I moved the conversation on to less delicate topics as I carved the meat and plated up the meal. I was twitched. There was just no predicting this child.

      And I don’t think any of us could have predicted what would happen next, either.

      Chapter 6

      The tea dished up now, we all trooped into the dining room and sat down, and still on the tack of making light conversation Mike immediately resumed where I’d left off in the kitchen. ‘This gammon’s nice, love,’ he said. ‘Have you glazed it with honey?’

      ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I put it on before I –’

      ‘Well, the bitch was warned.’

      We turned as one to Sophia, because it was she who had spoken, and I don’t think any of us were sure we’d heard her right. Had she really said that? She couldn’t have, could she? After all, she was smiling and eating her tea.

      ‘I, er, yes …’ I carried on, refusing to believe my ears. ‘I glazed it before I put it in the oven. Boiled it first and then –’

      ‘I do love my mummy, she’s so sweet,’ she sighed this time. I wasn’t imagining it, then. She was talking to herself.

      ‘That’s nice,’ I said gently. ‘I’m sure she loves you too.’ Mike and Kieron had their heads down, clearly keen to leave me to it. And Sophia seemed oblivious to me too.

      ‘Bitch looks lovely,’ she said next. ‘Lying there all cosy. All cosy tucked up in bed.’

      There is was again. ‘Bitch’. I leaned towards her.

      ‘Sophia, love,’ I said. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

      Once again, it was as if she couldn’t hear what I was saying. ‘Bitch should have died. She made her own fucking choice though.’ Her voice was mesmerising. Quiet and even and calm. Almost sing-song, like she was soothing a restless child.

      Mike put his cutlery down. ‘Sophia!’ he said sharply. It was enough to seem to startle her. She looked across at Mike with a puzzled expression.

      ‘I don’t know what you’re going on about,’ he said to her firmly. ‘But we don’t speak like that in this house, you understand? That’s enough, okay? Now finish your tea.’

      He resumed eating, but Sophia was still looking at him in shock. ‘Don’t speak like what?’ she asked him. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

      Kieron, by now, was almost choking on his dinner. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘God! You know exactly what you said!’

      ‘It’s all right, Kieron,’ I butted in. ‘Let’s just leave this for now, eh? I put a lot of effort into tea and it’ll soon be flat cold.’ I gave him a look, to say ‘leave it’, and thankfully he did. We finished the meal, which we’d now lost all appetite for, in silence. Only Sophia seemed intent on clearing her plate.

      And once she’d left the table and gone up to her room, we gathered in the kitchen to discuss it over the washing up.

      ‘Mum, she really freaks me out,’ Kieron said. ‘I’m actually scared of her.’

      Mike and I exchanged glances. We understood what he meant. ‘So what do we do now?’ Mike wanted to know. ‘There’s something wrong with that girl, and they never told us that, did they?’

      ‘I’m going to email John,’ I decided. ‘Get it all down. Everything that’s happened. And I’ll copy it to her social worker, too. And log it. In fact, I think I’ll do that now.’ I kept a detailed daily record of events for the children we fostered. It was part of our training to make sure we recorded everything. It formed an important record that could be filed for future use. Shame some of the other branches of social services we dealt with were less conscientious about doing such things, I thought wryly.

      ‘Good plan,’ Mike agreed.

      ‘And let’s hope they move her,’ Kieron said. ‘Because СКАЧАТЬ