Betrayed: The heartbreaking true story of a struggle to escape a cruel life defined by family honour. Rosie Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ do that without checking with you first.’

      ‘Then I’d really rather keep my address confidential for the moment.’

      Peggy sighed. ‘Well, that’s awkward. There’s absolutely no capacity to facilitate contact at a centre at the moment.’

      ‘In the community then?’ I offered. ‘I’m happy to supervise contact,’ I continued, ‘but not at my home. I’d feel much more comfortable on neutral ground until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.’

      ‘Very well,’ she replied, a little stiffly. ‘Have you managed to find anything out yet? The brother says that the father is willing to forgive Zadie and my manager is pushing for us to mediate between them and try to get her settled back home as soon as possible. There’s only so long we can hold on to her.’

      ‘Forgive her for what?’ I asked with incredulity.

      ‘Well, for shaming him by running away, so it would seem.’

      ‘She’s frightened, Peggy.’

      ‘I think so, yes. But you need to find out why as soon as you can. As I say, we have no grounds to keep her in foster care unless she gives us something to go on. The family aren’t at all happy with the placement so you’ll have to bear that in mind when you meet the brother. Lots of diplomacy needed.’

      Biting my lip to suppress a scoff, I muffled an ‘OK’ in agreement.

      Peggy called back ten minutes later to confirm that she had spoken to Chit Hassan and that he would meet us at a local beauty spot, the Lavender Fields, at 2 p.m. the next day. The social worker then trilled a hasty goodbye and I headed for the dining room to give Zadie the news. Our house has an open-plan living, dining and kitchen area, with just a few columns dividing the space, so I could see Zadie’s back as she sat at the desk. She was leaning so close to the computer screen that her headscarf almost touched it and there was something about the intensity of her posture that stopped me in my tracks. I was too far away to identify what site she was looking at but I could see that her fingers were trembling as she scrolled the cursor down the screen.

      ‘Hi, honey. That was Peggy.’

      Zadie spun around, her eyes wide. Her mouth began working at the edges as though she was trying to conjure a response but then she dropped her gaze and swung back to the screen. Making a few hasty clicks, she leaned back and let out a soft breath.

      ‘Everything all right?’ I asked, trying to muster a light tone to overcome the awkward moment. The words jarred in my throat and came out strained. It was a redundant question anyway; the wisps of unease snaking through the air between us told my senses that everything was definitely not ‘all right’.

      ‘Yes,’ she whispered, though her jaw was set at a tight angle. It was as though her mask had temporarily slipped.

      ‘You look …’ I paused, grappling for the right word. ‘You look …’ Guilty, I thought, taking in her downturned eyes and the two pink spots on her cheeks. ‘Anxious …’ I said.

      ‘No, I’m fine, really,’ she said. Her expression was suddenly indecipherable; the mask firmly back in place.

      ‘Peggy said that your brother Chit would like to see you.’ I paused to let the information sink in. Zadie watched me silently, waiting. ‘We’re meeting him tomorrow, at the Lavender Fields.’

      She released the mouse and let her hand fall softly into her lap where her other hand was waiting. With her fingers concertinaed, she squeezed them together until the pads went white, though her face remained impassive. Again, there was no sign of any emotion, happy or otherwise.

      ‘Are you pleased about that?’

      ‘Yes, thank you, Rosie.’ She nodded, but suddenly her eyebrows furrowed. She jumped up and darted from the room, her hand clamped tightly over her mouth. My mind raced. Something had clearly upset her. Was it what she had been reading online? Or perhaps the news about her brother? Small sounds from the bathroom drew me to the foot of the stairs. With my head cocked, I frowned in concentration. Zadie was retching. I turned, intending to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen, but it seemed that my feet had other plans. They were already taking me back to the dining room.

      At the computer I perched on the edge of the swivel chair. My eyes drifted back to the stairs as my hand hovered over the mouse. Zadie deserved for her privacy to be respected, I told myself, but then again something had upset her and I needed to find out what it was. It was unlikely that Zadie herself would open up and tell me why. Stupidly, I had forgotten to give her an internet safety lecture before allowing her online. If something untoward happened, it would be my responsibility. With my mind made up, somehow I managed to shut my ears to her gasps long enough run the cursor over the screen.

      My breathing became raspy as I checked the recent history. Leaning over the desk as Zadie had done a few minutes earlier, I selected the web address at the top of the page. At first I was faced with a blank white page but then colours began to appear. I squinted as an image flickered to life in front of me. I gasped and jerked back, dropping the mouse as if it was on fire. The colour drained from my face and my breath lodged in my throat. My chest throbbed with the pressure, as if I’d been held under water.

      An unexpected knock at the door brought a rush of heat to sear my cheeks but I sat unmoving, unable to tear my eyes from the moving images in front of me. The sound of a key in the latch brought me to my senses and I sprang into action, fumbling with the mouse to click on the X. My fingers were so timorous that it took several attempts before the screen cleared, the doorbell growing ever more insistent.

      Jogging to the hall, I felt grateful for my usual habit of locking the door whenever I’m home, if I have a child in placement. I had grown more security conscious after a parent had forced his way into my home a couple of years earlier. I had driven to a contact centre to collect his children after a contact session with their birth mother. The father had lain in wait in the contact centre car park and then followed me home. He was more desperate than angry but trying to convince him to leave the house had been a nerve-racking experience and one I wouldn’t want to repeat.

      My hands were shaking as I reached for my keys. My eyes strayed to the top of the stairs and a feather of anxiety brushed at my throat. I trawled my brain, trying to work out why a girl like Zadie would be drawn to looking up something so awful. It was a struggle to reconcile what I had seen on the screen with the introverted, withdrawn teenager having an anxiety attack in my bathroom. In my mind, she became even more of an enigma.

      On the doorstep stood Jamie, his cheeks flushed, school tie askew over his shoulder. ‘I forgot my locker key,’ he said, groaning. ‘Now I’m gonna be late.’

      ‘Oh, Jamie,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Don’t worry. Grab your key and I’ll give you a lift.’

      ‘Ah, thanks, Mum,’ he said with relief, all trace of adolescent bravado gone. He planted a rare kiss on my cheek and raced off to his room.

      Up in the bathroom I handed Zadie a glass of water. She refused to meet my eyes but thanked me for the drink and took a few tentative sips. Perched on the edge of the bath, she looked so small and frail that I was tempted to draw her into a hug. I rested my hand on her shoulder but she instantly tensed, angling herself away from me. Overcome with a sudden feeling of déjà vu, I recalled the interactive dance played out between myself and Phoebe when she had first arrived – how she would draw me in with one hand and yet hold me away with the other. Sometimes I would catch the nine-year-old СКАЧАТЬ