Part 12 (2/2)

'What?' I said. 'Jean, Sophia has no business phoning you. Not without our permission, anyway. And the mobile we bought her is none of your business. And, frankly, I don't like your tone.'

'Oh, I'll bet you don't,' she barked back at me, almost shouting now. 'Were you afraid she might tell me all about how she was dragged bodily up the stairs by your husband? Well, you're too late, because ...'

Now it was my turn to raise my voice. I couldn't help it. I was furious. 'How dare you speak to me like that!' I replied. 'I'm going to hang up now and I suggest that you don't ring my house again, okay?'

Whatever she said in reply I didn't hear, because I slammed the receiver straight down. 'Oh. My. G.o.d!' I seethed.

'What?' Mike said. 'What was all that about? Who the h.e.l.l was it?'

I had started crying now, as you do when you've been upset out of the blue. And shaking, too. 'G.o.d! That b.l.o.o.d.y woman! I'm so mad, Mike, I could scream!'

'But what did she say?'

'Sophia's been ringing her, apparently, and since she's been here, presumably. Giving her updates on how we're treating her well, that would seem to be the gist of it. G.o.d, I can't believe it! Who the h.e.l.l does she think she is?'

'But what did she say?'

'She was cross that her mobile's going to voicemail. The cheek of it! The mobile we bought her!'

I tried hard to mentally gather myself together. I didn't want to tell Mike what she'd said about him. That wouldn't help. But, G.o.d, I felt betrayed. And also terrible. Why had she done this? No, that was stupid. Why did Sophia do anything? But even so I still felt like I'd been slapped in the face. We were trying so hard, but she was clearly unhappy with us all. Why else would she go behind our backs like that?

It took a ma.s.sive effort of will not to confront Sophia the following morning, fruitless though the act would probably be anyway. I'd doubtless be met with another bout of sullen silence, which in my current mood I wouldn't have taken quite so gently as I had earlier in the week. But Mike was firm. We must try to avoid escalating another outburst. And the fault lay not with Sophia, not really. Despite my pique, her feelings about us me were her own affair. It was the subterfuge I couldn't stand that and Jean's tone. How dare she stand in judgement based on the complaints of an unstable 13-year-old child? She'd been trained as a foster carer, hadn't she? So she b.l.o.o.d.y well should have used some judgement of her own!

No, it was John that I needed to speak to. Right now. I called him as soon as I had the house to myself and spent five minutes trying to keep from losing my temper as I related the conversation.

'So I hung up on her,' I said. 'And I'm still seething. What makes her think she had a right to do this? I tell you, I feel totally undermined.'

'I do understand,' he soothed. 'It must have been a dreadful shock. No matter what you think, though, I'm quite sure this isn't born out of malice. She really does just have Sophia's best interests at heart. No, she shouldn't have done what she did. Of course not. But I think she carries a lot of guilt about abandoning her, and ...'

'John, she hardly abandoned her, for goodness' sake. She was ill. It's not like she won't be having her back soon ...'

There was an uncomfortable silence, then John cleared his throat. Uh-oh. I knew that noise of old.

'Well, that's the thing. I was going to wait till I came up for our meeting so I could tell you and Mike face to face ...'

I felt a chill pa.s.s through me. What had been said? Had Jean encouraged Sophia to put in a complaint? What? 'What's happened?' I said. 'Is she still ill? She did sound a bit wired ...'

'Actually, no. It's not that. And please don't breathe a word to Sophia, obviously, but, well, she doesn't want her back. Casey, she's resigned.'

'Oh, G.o.d, John,' I said. 'Really?'

He sighed. 'I'm afraid so.'

Chapter 17.

My mind was in turmoil now. How was this going to affect everything? How was Sophia going to take it? And where did it leave us, exactly? I felt anger, too. That she'd wimped out on everything. I tried to rein it in I didn't know the circ.u.mstances around it all, did I? But after the way she'd spoken to me it was hard to feel charitable.

'It's been a shock to us all, Casey,' John went on. 'No one expected this. But it seems Jean's not terribly resilient, I'm afraid. Quite the opposite, in fact. Off the record, she's something of a delicate soul and it seems fostering's been a bit of a shock to her system.'

It had been a shock to mine too, I thought, so I could certainly understand that. But even so, it wasn't something you took on lightly. Surely someone during her training would have counselled her thoroughly and recognised she wouldn't be cut out for it? Our kind of fostering, at any rate. I said so.

'Maybe it was just too much like being thrown in at the deep end,' John mused. Then he cleared his throat. 'Actually, I found something else out about that. She's not a specialist, Casey. I had that wrong. She was just a mainstream foster carer who they turned to in an emergency situation. The uncle had practically landed Sophia on the doorstep of social services. She probably shouldn't have been taking on a child like Sophia for her first placement. But then, no one knew what we do now, did they?' He sighed. 'Jean's also now saying that the reason for her breakdown was Sophia. Well, a big contributory factor at any rate. It's all been too much for her, basically.'

'But what happens now?'

'Well, you can rest a.s.sured that we're busy looking for a new long-term placement for Sophia, but there's no point in me fudging this it could take time. Which means that you and Mike might have to have her for a bit longer. But, as I say, it's important we don't tell Sophia this right now.'

'No, obviously, but, G.o.d! How is this all going to impact on her when she is told? She's clearly very attached to Jean she's obviously been phoning her pretty regularly ...'

'Which is why we'd be really grateful if you'd allow them to remain in contact. Organised, this time, of course. Jean's very keen on that still wants to play some part in Sophia's life, if that's workable. And that can't be a bad thing, can it?'

'No,' I admitted. 'I guess not.'

'Exactly. Give her access to a larger support network.'

I thought back to my parting words to Jean and felt guilty. Yes, she'd provoked them, and her manner had been inexcusable. But perhaps I should feel less cross and more sympathetic towards her. It can't have been easy for her; she must be feeling dreadful about Sophia. 'I'll call her,' I said to John. 'Smooth things over. And I'll see what we can get organised about that contact.'

'Thanks for being so understanding, Casey. I appreciate it, I really do. And I'm sorry we didn't keep you in the loop in all this. It's just that Jean's link worker was so sure she'd reconsider and change her mind. But listen.' His tone was immediately brighter. 'Good news as well, which I was going to call you about anyway. I've got my hands on the police report from the day of Grace's accident.'

'Finally. And?'

'And it's certainly illuminating. And there's also a psychiatric evaluation for you to look at. How are you and Mike fixed? I'm quite clear later this week.'

'Can't be too soon, John, it really can't.'

The police report was in the form of a big manila file, across the front of which, in red letters, was written 'CONFIDENTIAL'. John pushed it across the dining table towards me and Mike. 'I warn you, Casey,' he said, 'it's pretty grim stuff. I've read it all twice now, and if this is what Sophia's been bottling up, then no wonder she's having psychological problems.'

I opened the folder. At least I knew that after hearing Justin's story not to mention the kids in school it would take a lot to shock me these days. And I was right. Sophia's wasn't so much shocking as tragic. She'd simply been born to the wrong mother at the wrong time.

Mike and I started to read. There was a lot of jargon on the first page, giving details of this officer and that officer and who did what, then it went on to record a transcript of a phone conversation between Sophia and the emergency services.

999 OPERATOR 'Police emergency. Can I help you?'

YOUNG GIRL 'It's my mum. I think she's dead.'

OPERATOR 'Can I have your name and address, lovey?'

YOUNG GIRL 'Yes, I'm Sophia, I live at [address given].'

OPERATOR 'Okay, sweetheart. That's great. Now, how old are you?'

SOPHIA 'I'm almost eleven.'

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