Too Hurt to Stay: The True Story of a Troubled Boy’s Desperate Search for a Loving Home. Casey Watson

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СКАЧАТЬ all the kitchen surfaces. I loved to clean. So much so that in my past life I think I must have been a scullery maid, but even with my exacting standards of housewifery the fact was that it wasn’t six yet and I had nothing left to do. I couldn’t even busy myself by making a start on dinner, because Mike was going to order in that takeaway. See, I told myself, that’s why I don’t want a break. I’m bored. I have nothing to do all day now that the kids have left home. What else can I do if I don’t have kids in?

      This was key. As a specialist carer, one of the conditions of my employment was that I didn’t take any other job. I was required to be on call 24/7, as most of the kids we got in were so challenging, and needed such a lot of one-to-one support. Which was what I loved. Prior to fostering I’d been a behaviour manager in a large comprehensive school, looking after all the difficult and troubled kids. And it had been the idea of this demanding one-on-one role that had inspired me to do our kind of fostering in the first place.

      See, I told myself again, popping out to the conservatory for a cigarette. I needed to have kids in. Without that challenge I just felt so redundant.

      Having convinced myself that Mike would understand, I went back inside, grabbed the book I’d bought in town and started half-heartedly reading the first few pages. But I was barely taking in the words and was happy to fling it on the sofa as soon as I heard the sound of Mike’s car.

      ‘Hi, babes – how was your day?’ I gushed, planting a kiss on his cheek as he walked into the hall. He was carrying the promised wine in one hand, and a big bunch of red roses – my favourite – in the other. ‘Oh!’ I cried, feeling even more guilty than ever. ‘They’re gorgeous. What an unexpected pleasure! Come on, let me put the kettle on and make you a nice mug of coffee.’

      ‘Casey,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘What have you done? Have you been out buying handbags? Come on. Own up.’

      ‘Oh, for goodness sake, love,’ I trilled. ‘You’re so suspicious. Can’t I even be nice to you without you thinking there’s an ulterior motive?’

      His expression remained the same. ‘Er … no. Not this nice.’

      I flicked on the kettle and pulled a vase from the cupboard. ‘Honestly,’ I said, feigning great offence. ‘That’s so not fair. Though … um … I do have something I need to ask you.’

      I had hoped this might sound like something of an unrelated afterthought, but my husband, who knew me as well as my kids did, was not fooled in the least.

      ‘Here we go,’ he said, plonking himself down at the kitchen table while I fussed about unwrapping the flowers and trying not to blush. ‘Go on, then,’ he finished. ‘Let’s have it.’

      So I told him pretty much everything John had told me, gently skimming over the ‘born evil’ section, and making a great deal of the ‘oh, I’m soooo bored’ part.

      Then I held my breath, waiting for the verdict. Which wasn’t quite as immediately understanding as I’d hoped.

      ‘Oh, Casey, please love. Not yet,’ Mike said, with genuine feeling. ‘It’s only been two bloody minutes since the dog left home, let alone the last two kids. Can’t we have a bit of a breather? Isn’t there someone else who could take this on?’

      I knew he had a point. It really had only felt like two minutes. And though I missed Bob – he was our son Kieron’s dog, and had now gone to live with him and his girlfriend Lauren, at her parents – I knew the point that Mike was making was that for the first time in over two decades we had no one and nothing to worry about bar ourselves. There were the grandchildren, of course, but in terms of our home life … well, it was a first, and I could see what he was saying.

      But I was on a mission and there was no way I was going to give up so easily. I had the bit between my teeth now. This child needed me. And having no one to worry about, to my mind, was overrated. Mike had his job as a warehouse manager, which involved some long hours, I understood that – but what was I supposed to do? I tried tugging, very gently, on his heart strings.

      ‘So you’re saying no?’ I asked, sorrowfully. ‘Is that it? I have to tell John they’ll have to just dump him in a children’s home?’

      ‘That’s not fair, Case,’ he said levelly. ‘And don’t use words like “dump” on me, either. You know who I’m thinking about here. You. I’ll be at work,’ he pointed out. ‘It’s you that’ll have to cope. And I seem to remember it wasn’t too long ago that you were telling me just how much you were looking forward to being able to have a great deal more quality time with your own grandchildren.’

      ‘I know,’ I said, stabbing the stems into the vase distractedly. ‘But I can do both. It’s just one little boy, Mike. And I’m so bored. I really am –’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘Well, I soon will be, anyway. You know that. I can’t rattle around here with nothing to do. I’ll go stir crazy …’

      ‘And what about our holiday? I thought we were going to have a few days away?’

      ‘We still can. There’s respite, don’t forget.’ I put down the stem I was holding, and crossed the kitchen. I put the wine bottle in the fridge – it would need chilling, after all – then I went back to the table and sat on his knee. With me at five foot nothing and Mike at six foot three, it was one of the few ways I could look him in the eye, on his level. ‘Will you just think about it?’ I asked him. ‘Please? Anyway, we don’t need a holiday. Look out of the window. It’s just gorgeous. We can sunbathe in the garden. Pretty please?’

      His eyes narrowed again, but I could see it was a different kind of narrowing. One that said ‘here we go’ as opposed to ‘no, you don’t’.

      ‘You’re not going to let this drop,’ he said. ‘Are you?’

      ‘What do you think?’ I answered.

      Job done.

      In the end we had a Mexican, drank the whole bottle of wine and watched an old favourite movie of ours, American Werewolf in London. ‘Well, you did say this lad’s a bit feral,’ Mike quipped. ‘So we can look upon this as a bit of prior research.’

      Thematically, though, perhaps it should have been Apocalypse Now, for it signalled the end of our ‘peace and quiet’ time, for sure. But I didn’t mind. I went to bed that night feeling a very happy bunny. I couldn’t wait to see what Monday had in store.

       Chapter 2

      I decided I would spend the rest of the weekend trying to be extra nice to Mike, as a thank you. Now he’d agreed we could take Spencer – provided the meeting went well, at any rate – I was fizzing with energy and excitement.

      ‘Morning, love!’ I trilled brightly, as I perched on the edge of the bed, bearing a tray groaning under the weight of a full English breakfast.

      Mike stretched and eyed the tray of food suspiciously. I’d let him have a sleep in while I’d sneaked downstairs to cook it, and had been surprised that the smell of bacon frying hadn’t already woken him.

      ‘I’ve already agreed we can meet Spencer,’ he said. ‘So what is it –’ he met my eye – ‘that you’re after now?’

      ‘Honestly,’ I said, crossing the СКАЧАТЬ