Crying for Help (2 page)

‘That’s quick,’ said Mike. ‘How will we manage to fit in an initial visit? I’m sure neither she nor we would want to commit until we’ve met each other.’

‘I know,’ John said, the hope in his face clear as day. ‘But I was hoping we could do that on Monday. Jean goes into hospital on Wednesday, you see, for tests, so it would get complicated if …’

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Monday is fine. The poor thing. But one thing, John.’

He nodded. ‘Yes?’

‘Why us? Why me and Mike? It sounds to me that this is a pretty mainstream and also very short-term placement. Why have you picked us and not a general foster carer? Is it the illness?’

He shook his head. ‘Well, okay, partly,’ he agreed. ‘But mainly because her behaviour apparently
can
be a little challenging. Nothing major – and you’ll know from experience that I don’t use the word lightly. She’s just a little undisciplined, it seems. And the feeling is – and this is strictly between you and me, okay? – that there’s been a general lack of discipline in her life since she’s been with Jean, and what with the complication of the Addison’s – well, you can see how easily a child with that sort of issue can become manipulative if allowed to.’

‘I get it,’ I said. ‘She needs some boundaries, then?’

‘I think that’s about the size of it. So it’s right up your street. No points, as I say, as this really is just temporary, but just do what the two of you do so well. And don’t let your heads swell, because I shouldn’t tell you this, but it was my boss who suggested we place her with you. He said, “If anyone can turn her around, the Watson family can. After all, look how well they did with Justin.”’

‘That’s nice,’ said Mike, though I could tell by his voice that he knew he was being sweet-talked.

‘And just as well I cracked on and got the room ready, then,’ I added. ‘Why don’t you take John up to see it, love, while I put the kettle on again.’

My head was whirring while they went up to admire my creative efforts. The poor child. How tragic. To lose her mum – to lose all she had in the world – and to have to cope with what sounded like such a debilitating condition on her own. I wondered if she ever got to see her mother in hospital at all, and when John and Mike came back downstairs I asked.

‘Yes, she does,’ John said. ‘Every six weeks or so, for an hour. Not that she gets anything out of it. She apparently gets really upset after each visit, which is why she doesn’t go there more often.’

‘Poor kid,’ I said. ‘It must be awful.’

‘The world we live in, I’m afraid, Casey,’ he said. ‘Hey, but a great job on the bedroom. Fit for a princess! Oh, and be prepared, because it’ll seem like she really
is
a little princess. She has quite an entourage, this one, in terms of a team. So you’ll need plenty of cups at the ready …’

When John had gone, Mike and I retreated to the living room, where we sat and talked about what was to come. A pointless exercise really, though one which we’d go on to repeat many times. You could never second-guess the future, particularly in our line of work.

‘See, though,’ I said. ‘It was worth me getting all that decorating done, wasn’t it? I’m like a walking girl guide motto. Be prepared!’

I said it in jest, but little did I know. Those prickles of mine didn’t happen for nothing. Because
nothing
could have prepared us for Sophia.

Monday morning arrived, and with it a fresh flurry of snow. Which made me groan because I’d just finished painstakingly polishing my wooden floors and now they were going to be trodden all over by soggy footwear.

‘Do you think I should ask everyone to take their shoes off?’ I asked Mike.

He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t, love. It’ll only take a quick mop once they’re gone.’

‘A quick mop!’ I railed at him. ‘As if! I’ve spent all bloody morning polishing these floors – and by hand! You should try it some time. It’s –’

‘Hey!’ he snapped. ‘Calm down! Stop flapping – the floor’s fine. As is the rest of the house!’ His expression softened then, if just a little. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ll help you do the mopping, okay? And I’m trying to be helpful. So don’t take your nerves out on me.’

He stomped off to the conservatory, and I felt a bit bad. I just wanted to make a good impression – I always did. And a spotless house seemed a good way to do that. It was probably my mother’s fault, this obsession, I decided. We were Catholics, and when we were kids she was just the same as I was now – on account of the parish priest and the nuns forever calling round and, more often than not, doing so unexpectedly. She’d always be in a complete tizzy, so, just to be sure, she’d scrub the house from top to bottom every day.

But there was no time to dwell on the fate that might befall my wooden flooring, because just as I was finishing giving it a last careful scrutiny I could see a car – no, three cars – pulling up outside.

‘Mike!’ I hissed. ‘Get back here! They’ve arrived. God, how many
are
there?’

He joined me at the living-room window and peeped out. ‘Bloody hell, that’s some posse,’ he agreed.

The first car, which we recognised, held John Fulshaw, of course. The second contained a young girl – presumably Sophia – and two females, and in the third was another woman, plus a man.

We repositioned ourselves behind the front door in time to open it and welcome them, allowing a blast of cold air to swirl around our legs. It really was a bitterly cold day.

The young girl’s smile, however, was warm. ‘You must be Sophia,’ I said, grinning at her and holding out my hand. She promptly shook it, seeming genuinely friendly. I ushered her inside, along with the others, where Mike took over with the traffic management, and herded them all in the direction of the dining room. Always good to have a table to sit around at such times, and the one in the kitchen was too small.

Not that we had enough chairs in the dining room, for that matter, and I winced inwardly as I realised he was off to get more from the conservatory; ones that I hadn’t thought to wash down.

I mentally scolded myself. It didn’t matter if the chairs weren’t completely pristine. This was about Sophia’s welfare, not what people put their bums on!

I glanced across at her to smile again, but now she was in whispered conversation, speaking close to the ear of one of the women she’d come in the car with. A woman who’d looked nervous from the off. I was just wondering whether this might be her social worker, when the woman promptly burst into tears, grabbed Sophia and pulled her in for a hug.

Glancing first at me – I clearly looked as dumbfounded as I felt – one of the other women took a step and pulled the two apart. ‘Come on,’ she said smartly, though not unkindly, at the two of them. ‘Jean, you promised me you wouldn’t
do
this. Come on, let Sophia go and then perhaps we can start the meeting. We haven’t even got as far as introductions!’

Ah, so this was Sophia’s carer, I thought. The one we’d heard was ill. So that would explain her rather strained and strange demeanour. But even so, as we all sat down, I reached under the table for Mike’s hand and squeezed it. Something definitely didn’t feel quite right here.

While introductions were made, I studied Sophia more carefully. In fact, it was hard to keep my eyes off her. She was only 12 years of age but she was a startlingly well-developed girl. With her height – she was around five foot eight, to my five foot nothing – she could easily pass for 16 or over. She was also seriously tanned – so much so that she looked like she’d just come back from the Med. Which she obviously hadn’t, so did it come from a bottle? It certainly fitted – she dressed to kill, clearly knowing she had a figure to die for, emphasising her large boobs with a tight low-cut top, over skinny jeans and a pair of high-heeled boots. She was also sitting back, looking composed, with a strange smile on her face, as if allowing the proceedings to wash over her. All in all it was an arresting first impression.

Linda Samson, the supervising social worker, kicked off, explaining the facts that John had already outlined: that Jean was unable to look after Sophia temporarily and that as a consequence she needed a short-term placement.

Sophia leaned forward then, and to both my and Mike’s astonishment said, ‘Linda, could you please make a record of the fact that it’s Jean who has asked for this, it’s Jean that can’t cope? Because I’m sure,’ and her eyes flicked towards Jean as she spoke, ‘that real mothers don’t just dump their kids at the first sign of illness.’

I was gobsmacked. And Jean had started crying again. Linda’s face reddened. ‘Sophia, sweetheart,’ she entreated. ‘We have explained all this to you. You
know
what’s going on.
Please
don’t make matters any worse.’

Jean’s tears, as Linda spoke, had become increasingly voluble. Was she really in any fit state to
be
here? Clearly not – because she then asked my unspoken question. ‘Why did I come?’ she sobbed. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have! Oh, this is all just too much! Sophia, please, darling, don’t do this!’

I was absolutely stunned, and could see Mike was, too. He was looking at John with a plea in his expression. Was John going to say something, or should he?

‘Okay, everyone,’ John said, only moments before Mike did. ‘Let’s all try to calm down a little, shall we? Sophia?’ He waited till he had her full attention. ‘How about you and I have a quick tour of the house. See your room and so on. That will be okay, won’t it, Casey?’

I nodded. ‘And Bob’s in Kieron’s bedroom, John. Perhaps Sophia would like to meet him as well.’

Bob was Kieron’s dog, a scruffy and adorable little mongrel whom he and his girlfriend Lauren had got from a rescue centre the previous year. I watched as the two of them left the dining room together, and almost felt the air stir as everyone exhaled. It was a bizarre situation and I knew Mike could sense it too. It was as if everyone in there was going out of their way not to upset this 12-year-old child in a woman’s body.

‘Erm, I’m a little confused,’ I admitted, once I knew they’d be out of earshot. ‘I thought all this had already been arranged.’ I leaned forward. ‘Are you okay, Jean?’

Jean nodded sadly, though she said nothing. It was Sam Davies, Sophia’s social worker, who spoke up. ‘It has,’ she confirmed. ‘It’s just that it’s all a bit raw for Jean and Sophia. It’s Jean’s first ever foster placement, you see, and she’s obviously upset that she has to let go of Sophia so soon. What makes it worse, of course, is that Sophia sees it as so much of a rejection, however much we all reassure her that isn’t the case. We can all see where she’s coming from, I’m sure.’ Everyone nodded. ‘She really is terribly alone in the world. The only family she has left is the uncle, as I think you know, and he’s made it very clear he doesn’t want her. Packed her off the minute his wife got pregnant, by all accounts. Very difficult for a child who’s already been through so much …’

‘Which is why we feel it’s so important that Sophia has a solid team around her,’ added Linda. Yes, but more like an adoring retinue, I silently thought. ‘Jack?’ Linda went on. ‘Would you like to explain your role?’

Jack Boyd was a small, jovial-looking Irishman. His job, he explained, had been to be a ‘friend’ to Sophia, taking her out once a week, to an outing like bowling or the cinema. He’d carry on, he said, to ensure continuity, if we wanted. Sophia had his mobile number, he added, and often liked to call him, especially if she was upset. Mike, who’d stayed silent, taking everything in, now chipped in. About something that, in the midst of all the upset, I had completely forgotten about myself.

‘Sophia’s Addison’s disease,’ he said to Jean. ‘Can you tell me about that? We have to visit the doctors to find out a little more about the management, but can you shed any light on the challenges it throws up for you?’

Jean looked slightly nonplussed. ‘Oh, I’m sure the medical team will tell you everything you need to know,’ she said. ‘You just have to watch out for the warning signs of her getting stressed, really, because that’s dangerous. Like getting a bit snappy and irritable. That’s when I know, because she’s normally
such
a sweetie.’

The rest of the posse smiled an indulgent group smile when Jean said this, and once again I got the sensation of this group of people treading on eggshells, even when the girl wasn’t in the room!

But then she was – she and John re-entered the dining room at that moment, and she immediately went over to behind Jack’s chair, where she stopped a moment, to ruffle his hair. It seemed an unlikely gesture, and a little out of place. He lurched forward slightly, having not anticipated it, as those of us had who were sitting opposite, saying, ‘Ah, give over, you little rascal!’ He glanced across to us. ‘She’s always picking on me, this one. I have to have my wits about me, so I do.’

‘It’s just because I love your accent, Jack,’ she told him, sitting down again. She turned to me now. ‘Don’t you just love the Irish, Casey?’ she wanted to know. She was laughing out loud now and everyone else looked uncomfortable.

I smiled at her. ‘Well, you’ll meet some more Irish people in our house, Sophia. My two brothers married sisters from Ireland – from Belfast. We often visit them. And they come here with their kids all the time.’

Sophia stopped laughing now. Abruptly. ‘Oh, I don’t think that’ll be the same, will it? Not if they’re women.’

‘Sophia,’ John interjected, before I could close my now open mouth. ‘Have you anything you’d like to ask Mike and Casey, before we finish up?’ The sense of tension in the room was almost palpable.

‘I don’t think so,’ she said mildly. ‘The room is lovely. Really lovely. And your dog is adorable … Oh, I know! How old are you both? I don’t like old people. Mike, you look quite young, though. Are you older, Casey?’

I was stunned at the girl’s cheek, but not half as much as the fact that a couple of others in the room had actually
giggled
. This was some ‘professional’ team. It really was.

‘You know, Sophia?’ said Mike pleasantly. ‘Just for future reference, it’s not really polite to ask an adult their age. But, since you ask, Casey’s younger than I am.’

‘Well then,’ said Linda, clearly keen to get away now. Sophia herself didn’t open her mouth. ‘If there’s nothing else, I think we can wrap this up now. I’m sure, Casey and Mike, you’ll have more questions to ask, so be assured that one of us will always be on hand to answer them. All our numbers will be on the paperwork that we’ll be bringing on Wednesday morning, and I’ll also leave you the address of Dr Wyatt, Sophia’s doctor. Your appointment with him is at 1 p.m. on Wednesday, by the way, so plenty of time to get to –’

‘That’s a point,’ said Mike. ‘Where is this doctor based anyway?’

Linda handed him the sheet with the address on. ‘He’s here. It’s –’

‘The Lake District!’ Mike gasped. ‘Cumbria? But that’s a couple of hundred miles away!’

‘You only have to attend once a month or so,’ Linda said quickly. ‘Unless there are complications …’

‘I should hope so!’ Mike snapped. ‘It’s a six-hour round trip! It would have been nice if someone had told us this before!’

Sophia, who had been about to leave the room, now turned around. ‘Aw, diddums,’ she said, and it was clear she was getting her own back. ‘Doesn’t Daddy like driving?’

Sam pushed Sophia’s coat into her arms. ‘Stop being silly,’ she snapped. It was the first time I’d heard anyone admonish her.

Mike was furious, I could see, so I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, hoping I could help him calm down. What hope had we if she could wind him up so comprehensively, and so quickly? Not a lot, I decided. Not a lot at
all
.

We saw them out – all bar John – with fixed smiles on our faces. What were we about to take on?
See beyond
, I kept telling myself.
See beyond the bad behaviour to the hurting child beneath
. So I looked, but, by God, it was hard.

‘Quite a team she has there, eh?’ John said, to break the silence that was threatening to swallow us all up, minutes later. We’d moved into the kitchen now, and Mike had set about washing up the cups, the crockery rattling furiously as he did so. The hall floor was suddenly the last thing on my mind.

‘She didn’t come across at
all
like that the last time I met her,’ John added limply. ‘Like a different girl completely …’ He tailed off.

‘Bloody hell, John!’ I said. ‘That was completely bizarre. It was like they were all absolutely terrified of upsetting her; pandering to everything, pussyfooting around her … Does she turn into a werewolf when crossed? Is that it?’

John pulled out a kitchen chair and sat on it, looking weary. ‘I’ve never witnessed anything like that before,’ he admitted. ‘All my dealings with that team have been on the phone up to now, and up to now they’ve all seemed really switched on. I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You’re right. It does all feel a bit of a challenge, doesn’t it? To be honest, I only agreed to taking the case because it was going to be so short term. And it
won’t
be for long, I’m sure, because, as you can see, Jean really wants to keep her, long term.’

‘Is she really strong enough?’ Mike said. ‘I can’t see it myself. But I hope she does.’ He frowned. ‘Because, much as I hate to say this, I smell trouble. I think there’s much more to this girl than meets the eye.’