Betrayed: The heartbreaking true story of a struggle to escape a cruel life defined by family honour. Rosie Lewis
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СКАЧАТЬ emptying the cupboard under the stairs, trying to find his trainers for PE. Halfway through the search he decided it would be a good time to start printing his geography homework.

      ‘May I leave the table please, Rosie?’ Zadie asked.

      ‘Of course,’ I said, groaning at Jamie as he switched the computer on.

      Zadie began piling the bowls on top of one another. ‘Don’t worry about that, honey. I’ll do it.’

      She spoke so softly that I had no idea what she had said, but she continued to collect the crockery and then pottered off to the kitchen. Leaving Jamie to sort the printer out, I took up where he had left off in the hallway. Within 30 seconds I had the trainers in my hands. ‘Oh, Jamie,’ I groaned again, aware of the sound of running water in the kitchen. Five minutes later Emily called out to Zadie from the hall. ‘See you later, Zadie.’

      There was a barely audible reply from the direction of the kitchen.

      ‘Actually, Mum, I think I might stay off today as well,’ Jamie said, beginning to slip his blazer from his shoulders.

      ‘Oh no you don’t,’ I said, straightening his tie and flattening his sleep-rumpled hair with the palm of my hand. He gave me a look of disbelief. ‘Mum, I like being groomed as much as the next man but I think I can get myself dressed, thanks all the same.’

      ‘Fair enough,’ I said. Jamie was teetering on the cusp of adolescence and I was still getting used to the transition as well as the tone of sarcasm that threaded all of our recent conversations. ‘Now, have you got everything, honey?’

      ‘Yep,’ he said, offhandish, driving home the fact that I was meddling in something I had no business with. ‘See you later.’

      ‘Sure? Packed lunch? PE kit?’

      ‘Y-e-sss, Mum,’ he said with a long-suffering sigh. ‘Bye, Mum. See you, Zadie.’

      I stood at the front gate and watched until Emily and Jamie rounded the corner at the end of the road, then closed and locked the door, quite pleased at the prospect of having some time alone with Zadie. With just the two of us around I was hoping that she might open up a little and give me some idea of the problems that led her to run away.

      Dropping my keys on the table in the hall, I walked through to the kitchen. Zadie was standing at the sink with the sleeves of her black robe rolled up tightly to the elbow, her forearms submerged beneath the washing-up water. Our breakfast bowls were all washed, propped over in a neat line on the draining board, each dessert spoon resting neatly beside it. ‘Zadie, you don’t have to do that, honey. Let me …’

      ‘OK,’ she whispered, though her hands remained where they were for a few moments, as if reluctant to leave the sanctuary of the water.

      ‘What do you usually do during the day?’

      She lifted her hands from the sink and then turned on the tap to wash them. Squirting some liquid soap into her palms, she scrubbed between each knuckle, a few tiny bubbles escaping and floating above her head. After rinsing off the soap she stretched over the sink and released another generous blob of soap into her palm. It was a delaying tactic that wasn’t going to work for ever. When she reached for the soap a third time I handed her a towel.

      She took the hint, holding her hands in mid-air for a moment as if not convinced they were clean. ‘I clean the house,’ she said softly, wiping her hands and then hurriedly pulling her sleeves down to cover her arms. ‘Put a wash on and prepare the meals. When the work is done Papa lets me read and …’

      I pursed my lips, trying not to grimace. Sometimes as a foster carer it is difficult to hide personal feelings about a child’s home environment but, whatever my opinion, Zadie had the right for her relatives’ lifestyle to be respected. Children in care often have to cope with hearing negative comments about their parents, either from friends or their families, teachers, sometimes even social workers and foster carers. I have always made an effort not to judge but I still couldn’t help feeling that a day filled with housework and reading was a lonely, unfulfilling existence for someone so young. We certainly had enough books in our house to keep Zadie occupied as both Emily and I were avid readers, but I wasn’t sure that what we had was appropriate and, anyway, it all seemed a bit depressing to me. ‘Well, while you’re here, how about we make a bit of a routine to the day? You can have a look around and see if there’s anything you fancy reading and we’ll go to the library later in the week so you can choose some books for yourself.’

      She nodded. ‘I’d like that, thank you,’ she said, her gaze fixed somewhere between my ear and the wall behind me.

      ‘And this afternoon we’ll go for a walk,’ I said. One thing I was certain of – staying cooped up in the house all day wasn’t healthy for anyone. It would be good for Zadie to get some fresh air, particularly as she was looking so peaky.

      There was a flicker of anxiety in her eyes. ‘What time will we be going?’

      ‘After lunch probably. Is that all right?’

      ‘I’m supposed to pray after …’

      ‘That’s OK. We’ll go after that. Now, would you like to use the computer while I get this place cleaned up?’

      For the first time since we’d met, her face creased into a genuine smile, the light in her eyes transforming her solemn face. It was often that way at the beginning of a placement; a child may seem untouchable, almost beyond reach, but then it’s as if they suddenly emerge from their trance, ready to engage in family life.

      ‘It’s all set up, honey. You know where it is, don’t you? In the dining room?’

      ‘Yes, yes. Thank you, Rosie,’ she whispered, backing away from me in a half bow and vanishing from the room. It was the most animated I had seen her.

      As I was pulling on a pair of yellow rubber gloves the phone rang, a skirl that shattered the silence and gave me a jolt. I hadn’t realised I was feeling quite so tense. I think it was my strength of desire to put Zadie at her ease that was making me feel anxious, though I knew it probably wasn’t helping matters.

      It was Peggy.

      ‘The brother has been in touch. He wants contact so I’ve arranged for him to come to you tomorrow afternoon if that’s OK?’

      That was it. No, ‘Hello, Rosie’ or ‘How are you?’ but I was happy to dispense with small talk. Despite her sledgehammer approach, there was something about Peggy that I liked.

      ‘Should the family know where we live?’

      ‘Zadie’s only with you under a Section 20. There are no identifiable risk factors so it’s absolutely fine.’

      Since Zadie was in care under a Section 20, voluntary care order, her parents retained full parental rights. Under law, they could have demanded that she be returned home to them. If social services suspected that Zadie was in immediate danger, social workers would have to apply to the courts for an interim care order.

      A picture of Zadie’s face when Peggy had spoken about reuniting her with her family swept itself into my mind. I had noticed since then that Zadie was expert at presenting a benign expression, so her inability to hide the shadow that crossed her features at the mention of her family left me feeling concerned. ‘We know nothing about Zadie’s family yet, Peggy.’ СКАЧАТЬ