Crying for Help (11 page)

‘Oh, everyone will know. In the end, they will. It’ll come out. You mark my words.’

I was still trying to take in that these were Sophia’s grandparents. That she
did
have some family. And who looked perfectly respectable. Not at all like the families of some of the kids I’d dealt with. But why hadn’t we been told about them? And why had Sophia blanked them? Maybe I’d misunderstood. Maybe the woman was speaking about one of the nurses, got her knickers in a twist about some aspect of her daughter’s care.

I bent down so I could see her properly. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘If you’d like to speak to Sophia, she’ll be out in a few minutes. But if you’re worried about anything, you really don’t need to be. She’s – ‘what was I
saying
here?’ – she’s doing
fine
.’

The woman glared at me. ‘You think we care about that? Let me tell you, young lady, that the only concern we have about that girl is that she is still allowed to walk this earth freely!’ She looked slightly hysterical. ‘What has she got on you?’ she shouted. ‘Come on, what is it?’

Her voice was turning into a shriek now, and getting louder, and her husband, looking agitated, placed an arm across her body, gently urging her back into her own seat. Then, saying nothing to either of us, he drove them both away.

We stood in the car park, stunned into speechlessness.

Mike finally spoke. ‘What the …?’ He didn’t need to finish. That had been my thought exactly.

‘John, I really do need some more information on this family. I feel we’re scrabbling around in the pitch black here.’

It was mid-week – our fourth week, now – and I was getting more and more frustrated by the lack of any kind of progress. Where were Sophia’s files, for goodness’ sake? In a vault, somewhere, classified by MI5? I felt my hands were tied; without knowing what we were dealing with, it was impossible to know how best to make progress. For that reason, I’d held off having any sort of discussion with Sophia about the unsettling business at the hospital. For herself, she seemed entirely uninterested in it, trotting back to school on Monday and consigning it all to history. Which was great for the atmosphere at home, while it lasted, but got us no further in helping her.

‘I know,’ John said plaintively. ‘I’m doing my best, Casey, really. But given what you’ve told me now, I’d better do better than my best, hadn’t I?’

‘Yes, you’d better!’ I said. ‘Better than that, even!’

We both laughed, but I knew John was well aware that I meant it. What was supposed to be a short interim placement for us was turning into a nightmare that was taking over our lives.

And our heads. We’d left the hospice with our minds full of questions, none of which we’d been able to discuss with Sophia in the car. She’d actually emerged from the building just as the elderly couple had driven off. She’d probably seen some of our bizarre exchange with them, even though we doubted she could have heard it. But she made no mention of it whatsoever when she climbed into the car, and by some unspoken pact – maybe all those years of marriage had made us telepathic – neither of us felt inclined to start bombarding her with questions.

But one thing was clear, as we discovered when we got to bed, and could at last talk freely: we’d both had the same dark ideas swirling round our heads. The grandparents, particularly the grandmother, had been clear in what they were trying to insinuate: that Sophia was responsible for what had happened to their daughter. So could it be true? Had Sophia put her mother in this dreadful state? Far from it being a suicide attempt, had Sophia pushed her down the stairs?

But while I tried to wait patiently – well, not
that
patiently – for John to come up with some more concrete information about Sophia’s background, it seemed the here and now of our lives was going to hold incident enough.

It was the following Sunday, and after a blessedly uneventful week on the Sophia front Mike and I were in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. With the hospital visit done now (and perhaps Sophia would be back with Jean for the next one) the day stretched ahead invitingly, and I felt remarkably carefree. I should have known something bad was due to happen.

Leaving Mike in charge, and with the kids not yet down, I slipped off into the conservatory for a sneaky fag. Once Sophia had gone, I told myself as I lit it, I’d really make the effort. Get a new giving-up plan into action.

‘Morning, Casey!’ I turned to see Sophia in the doorway.

‘Morning, lovey,’ I replied. ‘You want a coffee? Mike’s got some brewing in the kitchen.’

‘Yeah, I will, ta. Nice day, isn’t it?’

I nodded my agreement. ‘Still a bit cold to be coming down in those, though.’ She was in her pyjama bottoms, but had reverted to a clingy little vest top, which, given the size of her top half, was rather in-yer-face. But softly, softly, I thought. That was the best way. ‘Tell you what,’ I said. ‘Pop your dressing gown on and perhaps we could have breakfast out here.’

‘It’s okay, I’m not cold. I think I’ll go and get that coffee. See you in a bit.’ She headed back inside.

I finished my own coffee and cigarette and went back to the kitchen to take charge of my main job – frying the eggs. I was always in charge of eggs, because I was the expert at cracking them. Mike always seemed to break at least half of them. He was at the worktop by now, beginning to make and butter toast, having put everything in the oven to keep warm. Sophia was standing next to him, pouring herself a coffee, and humming along to a Rihanna song in the radio. I began cracking the eggs into my giant frying pan.

‘Sophia, love,’ I said, ‘when you’re done, can you go upstairs and give Kieron a shout, please?’

I had my back to her, concentrating on not breaking any yolks. I only turned round, moments later, as she hadn’t replied, to see that she’d actually gone to fetch him. Instead it was to see that Mike had dropped a piece of buttered toast on the floor and was staring, mouth agape, at Sophia. I was puzzled. ‘Clumsy, clumsy,’ I joked, bending down to pick it up. He certainly didn’t seem to be about to. And it seemed I was about to hear why.

‘She just grabbed me from behind!’ he managed to splutter, pointing at Sophia.

I looked at her. She grinned. ‘Mike, that’s a bit of an exaggeration!
Groped
you? I just poked you in the side!’

‘I said
grabbed
me, not groped me. And you know damn well what you did! Now go and get Kieron, like Casey asked you.’

He turned back to the counter, and I could see that he was seething. But Sophia clearly couldn’t – or wouldn’t. She put down her coffee and then sauntered slowly over to him, where she came right up close behind him and coiled her arms around his chest. She then squashed herself right up against his back. Now it was me who was open-mouthed with shock.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing!’ Mike thundered, wrestling her arms from him and moving out of her way. He looked desperately towards me. ‘How dare you behave like that in this house!’ he railed at her. ‘Now get out of here, go upstairs and get dressed. You can come down for breakfast when you’re prepared to behave like a young lady. Go on! Get up those stairs! Now!’

Sophia rolled her eyes at him. ‘Chill out, for fuck’s sake! Can’t I even give my foster daddy a hug for making breakfast for me?’

‘No you damned well can’t! Not at your bloody age!’ He pointed to the door. ‘Now just
go
!’

Sophia threw her hands in the air as if in exasperation. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But you should know, Casey –’ she turned her gaze to me now – ‘that all men are the same. I know what they like.’

She then waltzed from the room and trotted off upstairs.

Mike pulled a chair out and sat down heavily. He was shaking. ‘Casey, I swear, when you had your back turned to both of us she came at me from behind, hand between my legs, and … well, she practically
cupped
me.’ He looked horrified. ‘It all happened so fast. One minute she was …’ He shook his head. ‘She was so
brazen
. And next minute – next
second
, she’s pouring the coffee, looking like butter wouldn’t melt … I can’t
believe
it.’

I was mortified. ‘I
know
. I honestly felt like slapping her – I couldn’t help myself. But, God, Mike, I can hardly believe it, either. That she’d be so brazen as to
do
things like that? I mean, she’s just a
kid
…’

‘Trust me, Casey,’ he said. ‘That girl is no kid. She knew
exactly
what she was doing.’

At that point Kieron came into the kitchen. ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘what’s all the shouting about?’ He nodded towards the stairs. ‘You know Sophia’s up there talking to herself again, don’t you? Calling herself names this time – bizarre. What’s going on?’

Because I knew he’d do it in a more level-headed fashion than I would, I left Mike to explain while I went up to dress myself. I could hear Sophia myself now, muttering to herself in her bedroom, calling herself a ‘stupid, fucking slut’ and ‘a bloody whore’. But before I tackled her I needed to shower and calm down and think for a bit. What on earth were we going to
do
with this child? We simply couldn’t have things like this happening, and it threw everything else out of kilter. Was this the sort of thing she used to do with her mother’s boyfriends? It didn’t excuse anything on the part of the men, obviously – never, never – but talk about putting yourself in harm’s way and making yourself vulnerable to exploitative, predatory men!

I was more concerned, however, about Kieron. Mike could handle most things, and we’d been trained in all this. The sort of kids we’d get – well, a lot would have been sexualised and brutalised from an early age. It was a part of what we had to be prepared to have to deal with, having damaged kids behave in scary and inappropriate ways. But Kieron had not asked for this, and shouldn’t have to deal with it. And knowing what she’d done to Mike would spook him even more – it was him, after all, who had pointed out to me that we were vulnerable to her making sexual accusations.

I got in the shower and let the hot water stream over my face. Poor Kieron! He’d had so many traumas with Justin initially, and I knew he’d hoped it wouldn’t be like that again. I just hoped I could reassure him that this was the pattern. That, in time, things almost always improved.

When I emerged from the bedroom, Sophia was still at it. ‘Fucking slut! That’s what you are, Sophia!’ I heard her say. ‘A dirty fucking whore. Look at yourself, go on, take a good look, slut!’

This was the aspect that threw me the most. Not so much the action itself as this. All this talking to herself all the time. This hadn’t been covered anywhere in training. We were foster carers, not trained psychiatrists. And this seemed like their area of expertise, not mine and Mike’s. I left her again, not yet having worked out what to do, and instead went downstairs to Mike and Kieron. ‘Well, she’s still at it,’ I told them, adding a smile to attempt some levity. ‘Chatting away to herself in the mirror!’

But Kieron was in no mood for jokes. ‘Mum,’ he said. ‘What are we going to do? I’ve just told Dad – I didn’t mention it before, because I didn’t want to upset you, but she’s been wandering about upstairs in just her underwear. She waits till she hears me coming out of my room and then acts like it’s accidental. But it isn’t. So now I just turn round and go back into my room till she’s gone. Because she’s doing it on purpose, I know she is.’

My heart hit my boots. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do, love. I wish I did but I don’t. I have to speak to John about all this. He’s supposed to be finding out more anyway. And in the meantime we’re just going to have to be really careful – you two, especially – not to put ourselves in vulnerable situations.’

‘Bloody hell, Casey!’ Mike said with feeling. ‘I wouldn’t have said standing buttering toast in my own kitchen was putting myself in a vulnerable situation!’

‘I know,’ I said. Mike was right. It wasn’t that simple. ‘I wish I had some answers, but I don’t. But I’ll report the incident straight away and, as I say, speak to John, and …’

‘Well, well, well, isn’t this just peachy?’ It was Sophia. ‘Little family meeting, is it? About me?’

No one had heard her come back downstairs. ‘Sophia –’ Mike started, his voice angry.

‘No, let
me
speak, please, Mike. Casey may not have any answers, but I do. Keeping your pervert son out of my bedroom would be a start.’

‘You lying little cow!’ Kieron shouted. ‘How dare you say that? Trust me, I don’t want to go anywhere
near
you!’

She just grinned at him. ‘I’ve seen you watching me. You can’t keep your eyes off me. Have you never seen a pair of tits before, or what?’

‘Sophia!’ I practically screamed her name, to be sure of her full attention. I knew I had to stop her before Kieron lost his senses. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but it won’t work in this house! Now I suggest you turn around, go right up those stairs and
stay there
, because I’m coming seriously close to
really
losing my temper!’

I glanced at Kieron. He looked like he could kill her on the spot. I’d never seen him so angry before. Sophia glared at us all, as if we were really something quite distasteful to look at, before leaving the kitchen, thundering back up the stairs, and slamming her bedroom door with such force it made the house shake. I thought fleetingly of how much abuse my internal doors took with this job of mine, but seeing Kieron’s face jolted me. He now looked like he was about to cry.

‘Pay no attention to her, babes,’ I hurriedly reassured him. ‘This is obviously a part of her
modus operandi
. I know it’s upsetting, but as you can see she’s badly damaged, and it’s plain to see that she’s just lashing out …’

‘I don’t care, Mum!’ he said. ‘I can’t have her saying things like that. I mean, Lauren’s so easygoing, but she’d still probably wonder …’

‘Don’t be daft, love,’ I said firmly. ‘Lauren knows the kind of kids we have. She’d know it was just rubbish.’

‘She would, son,’ added Mike. ‘Lauren’s not stupid.’

‘But that’s not the
point
,’ he said. ‘I can’t bear it. It makes me so stressed. I feel I can’t live in my own home without watching my back all the time! No, I’ve made my mind up. I’m going to go and stay at Lauren’s for a bit. At least until Dad can put some locks on the doors or something.’

Mike nodded. ‘He’s absolutely right, Case,’ he said. ‘I know it’s crap for us, but perhaps Kieron
should
go and stay at Lauren’s for a bit. Just for a few days, till we’ve worked out with John how we’re going to handle things. And in the meantime I’ll sort out some locks for all the bedrooms. We can’t be living like this, love, we really can’t.’

I looked bleakly at my son and my husband. Was this what our lives had become because of my job? Us having to allow our own son to lock himself in his room for fear of what might happen if he didn’t? A saying crossed my mind then, and it made for grim thinking.
The jailors were becoming the jailed
.

I tried to shake myself out of it, to get a sense of perspective. We weren’t prison guards charged with keeping a criminal off the streets after all. We were carers,
trained
carers, of desperate kids. And she
was
a kid – no more, no less – just a kid. Just a deeply disturbed 12-year-old girl.