Part 3 (2/2)

'Casey,' said Sophia. 'Is it okay to put down the baby? I still need to finish getting ready.'

'Oh,' I said. 'I thought you were ready already.'

'Er, not quite,' she said, already leaving the kitchen. 'I still have to do my hair.'

'She looked pretty ready to me,' Riley said, once Sophia had run back upstairs.

'Me too,' I agreed, puzzled. 'Oh, well.'

'So, what's the lowdown, then?' Riley asked. 'How's things going? She seems sweet enough.'

'Yes, she is. Well, at least intermittently. But there's a whole lot going on underneath the surface, obviously. Been a pretty grim time for her, these last couple of years.' I told Riley about the incident with the nightwear and what had happened at the hospital. 'I'm not quite sure I have a handle on her yet, to be honest. She seems to swing from mood to mood without any real warning. But, as I say, when you think about her background ... well, there are bound to be challenges ahead, aren't there? Still, she seems to have taken to you, anyway.'

Riley nodded. 'Well, to Levi, at any rate. Actually ...' She lowered her voice. 'I did notice she kept looking at me when she thought I couldn't see. And rather strangely, too. You know? Kind of a.s.sessing?'

'I know what you mean,' I said. 'I've felt that too. It's like she has a mask in place most of the time. And it's only when she lets it slip that you get a glimpse of what's going on beneath. I'm sure she's built a very big strong wall to protect herself ...' I handed her her coffee. 'But I'll get there.'

'Well,' said Riley, 'if anyone can, you can, Mum, I'm sure!'

'I appreciate your confidence,' I said drily.

And speaking of masks, it was a full fifteen minutes before Sophia returned, and when she did we were both open mouthed in shock. She had changed, in that time, out of all recognition. Gone were the perfectly appropriate jogging bottoms and hoodie she'd been wearing, and gone also was the perfectly neat and brushed hair. Instead, she'd curled the latter to within an inch of its life, and changed into skinny jeans and a tight black vest top. But it was her face which was the most arresting thing about her. She had plastered it in make-up; really trowelled it on. Dark foundation, dark lipstick, a swathe of eye shadow, thick mascara she looked more like an 18-year-old, headed for a night on the town, than a 12-year-old girl going shopping.

It was Riley who found her voice first. 'Goodness, you look very glamorous!' she observed diplomatically. 'But it's freezing outside. You'll catch your death! You want to go upstairs and put something thicker over that?'

'I've got a jacket,' Sophia responded. 'I'll be fine.'

'Sweetheart, isn't that rather a lot of make-up to be wearing?' I added gently. 'You know, they won't allow you to wear it like that at your new school next week, don't you?'

'That's fine,' she said airily. 'I just like to make an effort.' She turned to Riley then and smiled sweetly. 'Don't you wear make-up, Riley?'

If it was intended as a barb, it was a sharp one. But Riley didn't flinch. 'Not much, during the day,' she said mildly. 'I do when I go out, but when it's light, in the daytime, I prefer to keep it looking natural. I could show you some tricks of the trade, if you like.'

Bless her, I thought. She was doing the same as I was. Remembering that this wasn't a peer, just a young girl, in the midst of an appalling situation. But one with strong opinions, too. 'That's okay,' she said. 'But I like it like this, thanks.'

Upon which I think we both decided the best course of action was to draw a line under any more discussion of Sophia's eyeliner. 'Come on,' I said, pretty much at the same instant Riley did. 'Let's head to town and do our girlie shopping.'

Twenty minutes later we'd made it into town and hit the shops, and to a pa.s.ser-by we probably looked like a perfectly normal family gathering, except I couldn't shake off the feeling that had been stalking me since Sophia's arrival that I had to be on guard, be alert, keep an eye trained on her all the time. Not physically she was too old for me to worry about her running off and getting into sc.r.a.pes but just this vague nervousness, like she was this unknown quant.i.ty you had to keep checking on. It was her smile, I think. The fact that it never reached her eyes. As if it was stuck on, and could be whipped off in an instant.

But I had a mission on and I intended to complete it. 'How about these?' I suggested, once we were in a shop selling nightwear, and I was holding up the umpteenth pair of pyjamas.

Sophia shrugged indifferently. 'Whatever.'

I bit my lip. She wasn't being so different, I reminded myself, from plenty of other girls of her age. In the end I selected a few sets of PJs myself, together with a fleecy dressing gown that came with matching slippers.

'Cheer up,' said Riley, helpfully, as we exited the shop. 'I had that dressing gown and slippers from Mum at Christmas, and they're really cosy '

'Oh, she likes dressing girls up as old ladies, then, does she?'

I don't think Sophia intended it for my ears, but I certainly heard it. Riley rounded on her. 'Sophia! You could at least try to be grateful!'

'And since you didn't want to help me choose them, what do you expect?' I added levelly. 'And as Riley just said, a little grat.i.tude really wouldn't go amiss.'

I was busy thinking how this was what she most needed, her rude behaviour reined in a bit, just like I'd always made a point of doing with my own kids, when I realised she was about to burst into tears. It was incredible. One minute so cheeky, the next looking so wretched. Was this why everyone p.u.s.s.yfooted around her? Because you simply couldn't discipline her for fear of her cracking up? I sighed inwardly. That wasn't useful at all. If so, how could anyone help her?

I stopped scowling and instead scooped her into my arms.

'I'm so sorry, Casey,' she sobbed. 'I didn't mean to be rude. Thanks for my pyjamas.'

'It's okay, love,' I soothed.

'I'm just missing Jean so much. It's hard ...'

'I know,' I said. 'I know. Now then, you probably need to stock up on toiletries, don't you? Shall we do some proper girlie shopping now, eh?'

I glanced at Riley as I said this, noting her sceptical expression. But I made a sign to let her know that I didn't want her to say anything, even though I knew exactly what she meant. Early days, I thought. Only early days yet.

And the next hour pa.s.sed agreeably enough. Though we were soon to see yet another sea change.

'How about we have lunch in that new organic cafe?' I suggested. I'd clocked it before Christmas and they'd seemed particularly baby-friendly.

'I'd promised to go and meet David,' Riley began. David ran his own business he was a professional plasterer and at the moment was working close by. 'But I guess I could tell him to come and meet us here instead, couldn't I?'

Sophia's ears p.r.i.c.ked up. 'David?' she said. 'Isn't that your boyfriend? What's he like?'

Very much to Sophia's liking, seemed to be the answer, because lunch soon became excruciating. If she'd seemed a bit over-enthused with her endocrinologist, now Sophia was utterly rapt. She hung on David's every word, kept flicking her mane of curls all over and giggled excitedly at pretty much everything he said. If it hadn't been so uncomfortable, it would have actually been comical, for she sat, chin on fist, gazing at him adoringly.

Riley, however, wasn't too amused. 'Elbows,' she chided. 'This is a restaurant, Sophia.' Which not only earned her a withering look, but also a giggle at David and a roll of her eyes. 'Ooh, er! Is she always so fussy?' Sophia purred.

Now I was getting really uncomfortable. 'Tell you what,' I suggested to Riley, ignoring Sophia's comment. 'Why don't you walk David back, and we'll head to the market with Levi?' I had a few bits to buy, and she could easily catch us up. And it might stop her bursting a blood vessel.

But as soon as we were alone with the baby, Sophia turned to me, oblivious. 'Oh, Casey, he's well fit,' she said, stopping me in my tracks. 'How old did you say he was?'

'I didn't,' I pointed out. 'But way too old for you, young lady. And also taken,' I added pointedly.

She giggled again, then, but was happy to push Levi to the market. She chatted animatedly to me as she did so, as well, even though one of her comments was that pus.h.i.+ng a baby was great because it always made you such a 'man magnet'.

I made light of it, but by now I was having serious concerns. She was attracting male attention not because she was a young girl pus.h.i.+ng a pram. She was attracting it by the way she was wiggling as she did so. This girl had been s.e.xualised and to a increasingly worrying degree. Which rang alarm bells. What had happened to her that we hadn't been told about?

We'd been told to expect it at some point, of course, but when the letter arrived that Friday from social services it was to inform us that Sophia's next visit to her mum would be taking place just a week on Sunday.

My musings about why Sophia behaved around men the way she did were now nudged out of pole position by my worrying about that. I didn't know why, quite I'd dealt with plenty of bad things in my time but I was filled with this sense of foreboding. The tone of the letter didn't help, either, making it clear that the whole thing would be emotionally exhausting for her, and that we'd have to be extra vigilant about her taking her medication, as her stress levels would be particularly high. We might even, the letter warned, have to make her take more hydrocortisone, as the stress might deplete her reserves. Finally, it advised that the visit might be upsetting for us to witness; in short, the letter seemed to say, brace yourselves.

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