The Little Princess. Casey Watson
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Название: The Little Princess
Автор: Casey Watson
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Биографии и Мемуары
isbn: 9780008142711
isbn:
This is a work of non-fiction based on the author’s experiences. In order to protect privacy, names, identifying characteristics, dialogue and details have been changed or reconstructed.
HarperElement
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London SE1 9GF
First published by HarperElement 2016
FIRST EDITION
© Casey Watson 2016
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016
Cover photograph © Vanessa Skotnitsky/Arcangel Images (posed by model)
A catalogue record of this book is
available from the British Library
Casey Watson asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work
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Ebook Edition © August 2016 ISBN: 9780008142711
Version: 2016-08-05
Contents
Exclusive sneak peek: Runaway Girl
It was the Sunday before Christmas. Almost my favourite time of year. Actually, in some ways my most favourite time of year, because it was the date of our annual family pre-Christmas dinner – or my practice run, as my son Kieron had always called it. Which was just like the main one, only in lots of ways nicer, as it involved all the fun without any of the stress, plus the anticipation of Christmas proper still to come.
Well, to my mind, at any rate. I should have known better than to mention it to my ever-loving husband Mike. ‘More like a prelude to a nightmare,’ he quipped, ‘with this gaggle of little monsters around. Look at them. If this level of mania is anything to go by, heaven help us when we get to the actual day!’
I knew, what with the house full of grandkids and mayhem, that he was probably only half-joking. He had a point, too. I winced as I watched Marley Mae, who was deep in the realm of the terrible twos now, almost collide with the Christmas tree. And for the umpteenth time today, while the film I’d put on (in the vain hope of keeping Riley’s three occupied) blared to itself in the corner. Much as I loved Arnie Schwarzenegger – the film was Jingle All the Way – I could barely hear myself think.
‘Shut up, you old Grinch,’ I told Mike. ‘You know you love it really. And how can you say such a thing? Bless them,’ I added, scooping Marley Mae into my arms. ‘You’re not a monster. You’re our little princess, aren’t you?’
It was a phrase that would very soon come to haunt me.
We’d had the luxury (in a manner of speaking, since it had been a pretty hectic time) of taking a few months off from fostering. After seeing our last foster child, Flip, off to her forever home the previous spring, we’d decided to take a bit of a break. With our Kieron and his partner Lauren having given us our fourth grandchild, Dee Dee, we’d taken the decision to devote some time to just being there for them. With Kieron’s Asperger’s (which is a mild form of autism), we’d been all too aware that they could really use the extra support. So, apart from Tyler, our permanent foster child, and very much now part of the family, we’d only accepted a couple of short-term emergency placements. We’d had a singular lad called Connor, veteran of the care system, for a brief but intense period, and a misunderstood five-year-old called Paulie, who’d been rejected by his mother and stepfather, and who was now settled with a long-term foster family.
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