Part 15 (2/2)

'I could do with one of those myself,' I joked, as I let them out. But the smile left my lips again as soon as they drove away. Alone with Sophia now, I recognised a new feeling building, one that I'd never experienced to quite the degree I did now, not in my professional capacity, at any rate. I felt frightened. Of her. Of being in the house alone with her. I hoped Phil was right. I really hoped she didn't wake.

I had plenty to keep me occupied for the rest of the afternoon, at least. First, I had to record everything in my journal, which I did, sitting at the dining-room table, a large mug of coffee at my elbow, carefully including every tiny detail I could remember. I then called John Fulshaw and updated him similarly, repeating what Phil had said about getting her to see our GP to discuss her Addison's management and restating my case for the urgent need to get her that psychiatric a.s.sessment, too.

John was predictably rea.s.suring, but had nothing new to say. Yes, it was in hand with CAMHS; no, he'd heard nothing further; yes, he would give them another chase.

Finally, I called Mike, and simply poured my heart out to him the very last thing he needed in the middle of his working day. He listened patiently and sympathetically but I felt really bad when I put the phone down. What on earth had I been thinking? It was so unlike me to burden him like that. Not while he was at work. That was all wrong.

But it did make me feel better. And with Sophia asleep upstairs, I decided to end the day the same way I'd started it. I threw some chicken fillets and vegetables into a ca.s.serole for dinner, then went back outside to enjoy the last of the spring suns.h.i.+ne, hoping I could absorb something of the sun's strength and warmth.

The contrast I found there struck me forcibly. Here the garden, with all the toys strewn over it and with its playful, happy look, seemed so at odds with what was happening both in the house and in our lives. While the sun spangled prettily on the gra.s.sy water in the little paddling pool, upstairs, snoring softly, was a child in such a mess and one seemingly h.e.l.l-bent on self-destruction. Did I really have any hope of pulling her back? I was seriously beginning to doubt it.

When I woke the next morning, and the events of the previous day came flooding back to me, I experienced that same sense of fear I'd had yesterday, and I stretched out across the duvet to find Mike. Kieron had slept over at Lauren's the night before, and taken Bob, and I felt almost panicky to think Mike might already have gone to work, leaving Sophia and me in the house alone.

But I needn't have worried. Just as I began berating myself for my stupidity, he was in the open bedroom doorway, bearing coffee and toast.

'Treat,' he said, grinning. 'For the lady of the house. Since it's the school holidays I thought you could have a bit of a lie-in.' He placed the tray on the bedside table and bent down to kiss my forehead.

'Oh, thanks so much, love,' I said, shuffling up to a sitting position. 'What's the time?'

'Almost eight, so I really do need to get my skates on. But listen, love, you know where I am if you need me. So if you want to call me, don't you worry about it. I've told them what's happening, they know we've got some problems, so ...'

'Not today, fingers crossed,' I said, willing myself to believe it. 'Going by past experience there's usually a couple of days of calm after a big blow-out, so I'm hoping today will be a good one.'

'That's the spirit,' he said. 'She's up and about, by the way.'

'Have you spoken to her?'

He shook his head. 'No, but I could hear her pottering about in her room, humming to herself. I dare say she'll be down, suitably contrite, when she's ready.'

I nodded. 'Contrite would be good. Anyway, Riley'll be over later to give me moral support. Don't worry. You get off, love. I'll be fine.'

Mike kissed me goodbye, and then went off to work, and in the ensuing silence I too could hear Sophia pottering in her room. Despite my optimistic words, I still felt anxious about facing her. I was glad when I remembered that Kieron was off from college. Glad that I'd have him around all this week, too. I hoped he wouldn't be too long in coming home from Lauren's, but I forced myself not to ring and check.

Chickening out of looking in on Sophia right away, I then went straight down to the kitchen and felt immediately brighter to see Mike had already brewed me a full pot of coffee. 'To cheer you up! ' a post-it stuck to it declared. I poured myself a second mug and set about a spate of light cleaning; anything, I realised, as I wiped already-wiped kitchen surfaces, to put off the moment when I would have to go up and see her.

Yet I would have to, I realised, when the clock showed it was way past ten and she'd yet to emerge from her bedroom. No, there was no school, but at the very least I needed to get food and medicine down her. Either that, or make another call to Phil.

Get your act together, Casey! I chided myself, as I headed up the stairs on heavy legs. It was so unlike me to be reluctant to engage in a situation. Taking bulls by their horns was what I'd always been best at wimping out, I told myself, was for wimps. She was probably hiding away in her room for exactly the same reason that I had been hiding away in the kitchen downstairs in truth, perhaps we couldn't face each other.

But I was wrong. I could sense it in the way the hairs rose on my neck as I pushed the bedroom door fully open.

I knocked as I entered, not wis.h.i.+ng to startle her. She was sitting sideways on to me, at her dressing table, rhythmically brus.h.i.+ng her hair. 'Sophia, love,' I started. 'It's way past breakfast time are you coming downstairs?'

She was staring into her mirror. Though not at it, but through it. She wasn't looking at her reflection. That was obvious. She was staring sightlessly into the far distance. She made no response. Didn't even twitch. 'Love?' I said, a sense of foreboding building in me. 'Are you okay? Come on, come down and let's get you something to eat, eh? You must be starving.'

Still she said nothing, but now she did stand and, still brus.h.i.+ng her hair, began walking towards me. At first it was as if she was sleepwalking, oblivious, but then I realised she was just doing what I'd asked her to do, so I turned and, sure enough, she followed me placidly down to the kitchen, where she sat at her usual place at the table and went back to brus.h.i.+ng her hair.

This isn't right, I thought anxiously. This is scary. What the h.e.l.l was wrong with her? I'd never seen her like this. Ranting, yes, raving, yes, throwing her toys out of the pram, double yes. But this strange vacant state was altogether more frightening. Was this the beginning of a real crisis or was it all in her head? Please, Kieron, I thought. Hurry home.

'Sophia?' I tried again, placing a hand on her shoulder. 'Sophia, love. You don't seem very well. You need to take your meds and you need some food inside you.' This time, to my relief, she seemed to register that I was speaking. She didn't reply to what I said, but at least she nodded.

Relieved, I hurried over to the cupboard and pulled out the pills Phil had brought down last night. I was further rea.s.sured to see her calmly take both drugs, while I scurried across the room to make some toast. Still, she didn't speak she was back brus.h.i.+ng her hair again but when the toast was done and I'd b.u.t.tered it she ate both slices obediently, even pa.s.sing her empty plate to me when done. At least that was one thing I no longer had to worry about, I thought, taking it. But this was serious. It was like she was in the middle of an extended trance and I didn't have the first idea what to do next. What I really needed to do was to call for help.

Leaving her to it she seemed engrossed only in her hair, and showed no sign of moving I took the house phone and my phone book out into the garden. So what did I do? Call an ambulance? Call John? What made most sense? Some instinct, however, led me to the number of her consultant, the man with whom she seemed to have this peculiarly intense relations.h.i.+p. If I was going to call anyone, it might as well be him. Of all the numbers I had, his was the one that made most sense. He knew her, knew her well. The others didn't.

I was stunned, even so, to get through to him immediately. Despite my determination to speak to him, it had occurred to me while dialling that there'd probably be layers of administration to get through before being granted access to the expert himself.

But he was happy to speak to me. And he sounded concerned. Especially when I told him about the suicide threats. Which made them suddenly seem very real. It was one thing to read on a file from social services 'has attempted suicide', quite another to have a child in your care who might at any moment try, and perhaps succeed in, taking their own life.

'She very nearly has,' he told me gravely, 'on several occasions. And I'm not just talking about since she's been in the care of social services either. Sophia's been with me since she was quite young five or six and she's attempted suicide, by refusing her meds, several times and on at least two she very nearly succeeded.'

'Well, that's great!' I said, stung into anger instead of fear now. 'So none of this is recent, is what you're saying? Wouldn't it have been helpful for us to have known all this when we started fostering her?'

'It's a fine line,' he said, obviously unwilling to be browbeaten by me. 'And, to my knowledge, social services did have access to her files. But you must understand that patient confidentiality is something I am obliged to take seriously ...'

'I understand that. But I'm obliged to take the wellbeing of the children in my care equally seriously. And that's only possible if I know the full picture! We've clearly been looking after a child with longstanding psychological problems problems that neither myself or my husband are qualified to deal with. Don't you think it might have been helpful for us to have been told all this stuff when we first saw you?'

Once again, a familiar phrase stuck in my head. If we'd known all this stuff would we have ever considered taking her? No, of course we wouldn't. We weren't qualified ... no foster carer would have been. But it was too late to think about that now. I said so. She was clearly in a very bad place.

'I agree,' said her consultant. 'And perhaps you should take that up with social services. But, as a priority, I suggest you get in touch with your GP immediately. I'm too far away to be of much immediate use to you, but perhaps they can a.s.sess her and then liaise with me after that.'

Yup, I thought. Too far away. So no use. And though I knew my GP would be helpful and understanding, it was odds on that her medical notes hadn't even reached him yet, either. Though, like all GPs, he had a duty of care to take on children in the care system, in practice, we'd been told, a child's medical records could be very slow in following. I got Sophia's meds from him, obviously, but as to the chequered nature of her past well, he would be none the wiser, would he? I decided to call John for advice first.

Frustratingly, I got his answerphone, so was forced to leave a message. Which I did, making it clear that both Mike and I, and her consultant, felt she was having some sort of breakdown and that I was now going to get the GP out. Failing that, I'd have to phone 999 again. I was just finis.h.i.+ng relating this into the machine when I heard a clear voice Sophia's from behind me.

'Who the f.u.c.k was that?' she said. I swivelled in my seat to find her standing in the conservatory doorway, the faraway expression having been replaced by one I knew: that terrible twisted mask of rage and loathing.

'Please don't swear like that, Sophia,' I said, trying to keep my eyes fixed on hers. She looked almost deranged with fury. 'And that was a private phone call,' I added, albeit pointlessly. She'd obviously heard at least the end of it. Heard her name.

'No it wasn't. It was about me,' she said, confirming it. 'You f.u.c.king liar.'

I felt my mouth go dry, and licked my lips. 'I said stop that!' I continued. 'And yes, as it happens, it was about you. We're all very worried about you. You're ...'

She thumped the door with her fist. It made me jump, it was so sudden. 'f.u.c.k you! I'm not having any doctors coming here sticking me with needles again. Got that? Got that?'

I stood up now, but was acutely aware that I couldn't get back inside the house without pa.s.sing her. I was trapped out here. 'Sophia, don't be silly,' I began. 'No one is going to come here and inject you. You've just taken your meds, haven't you? So why would anybody have to do that? I just need a doctor to come here and see you. To try to understand why you've been getting so unwell, that's all.'

'You're the one making me unwell!!' she screamed at me. She took a step towards me, and I felt myself stiffen. 'Why can't you just keep your big nose out?!'

There was no point in just standing there. I had to act. I walked towards her, trying to look dismissive of her outburst as I placed a hand on the door jamb. 'Come on, Sophia, out of my way now,' I snapped. 'Let's get inside, put the kettle on and talk about this.'

But it seemed she had other ideas. She didn't move a muscle. She was no longer just standing in the doorway to the conservatory, but actively blocking my path. If I was going anywhere I really would first have to s.h.i.+ft her, and the difference in our height and strength fully hit home.

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