Part 16 (1/2)

Just then, however, I heard another door bang. Kieron! Oh, thank G.o.d, I thought. Kieron. It must be Kieron! He was in the conservatory seconds later, calling, 'Mum! Mum, you there?'

He then looked at the pair of us Sophia had swivelled her head when she'd heard him and his expression became puzzled. 'Hiya, Sophia,' he said. 'Mum, is everything okay?'

Sophia had fully turned now, giving me the opportunity to squeeze past her. I took it.

'Mum, is everything okay?' she mimicked. 'No, Kieron,' she spat then. 'It's f.u.c.king not! The b.i.t.c.h ' she jabbed a finger in my direction 'thinks it's funny to have me stuck with needles to knock me out!'

I watched Kieron's jaw drop before he regained his composure. 'Hey,' he said, 'don't you dare speak to my mother like that! Get to your room, now!'

In the midst of everything, some part of me found a moment to observe that this business of my kids sending my foster kids to their rooms was becoming something of a regular occurrence.

'Do as he says,' I chipped in. 'And I will speak to the doctor. This isn't you, Sophia. I know it isn't. This might all be down to your medication. I think it is. Maybe your dosage needs looking at again.'

And maybe, I thought, recalling the notes about mental health side-effects, this is partly an effect of the illness. 'Do as he says!' she parroted again, ignoring me. 'Casey's kids are always right. Perfect f.u.c.king Casey. Perfect f.u.c.king Casey and her perfect f.u.c.king kids!' She was hysterical now, spitting the words with real venom, and then shocking both of us she launched herself at Kieron, who only just managed to jump out of the way. She lunged again. 'Okay, let's see how you like this, then, Mr f.u.c.king Perfect!' But this time, as Kieron sidestepped, she simply swept past him, then ran back upstairs, laughing manically.

'What the h.e.l.l was all that about?' he asked me, dumbfounded.

'Oh, love,' I said. 'I can't even begin to explain. I just need to ring the doctors. And I need to do it now.' I ran back outside to grab the house phone and brought it inside. It was late morning. With any luck I would be able to get a house call. And if not, well, I'd just ring for yet another ambulance. We absolutely, definitely, could not go on like this.

I went into the kitchen and dialled the GP's number with shaking fingers. Typically, I got the engaged tone three times before eventually hearing the sound of the mechanical menu. Press one for appointment, press two for prescriptions, press three for home visits ...

I pressed three and willed my heart to stop thumping quite so hard. I then crossed my fingers as I explained to the receptionist who I was, and my concerns for Sophia's current condition. Luckily, she was able to offer me an afternoon slot, though, even as I disconnected, I worried whether I was doing the right thing. Should I have just called for an ambulance, after all? No, I thought, it was ridiculous to call an ambulance. There was nothing here that the GP couldn't handle. I couldn't keep whistling up ambulances w.i.l.l.y-nilly, after all.

But Sophia wasn't done yet with testing us. As I put down the phone I could hear Kieron calling the dog. 'Mum,' he said, coming in. 'Did you see Bob go out into the garden? I've lost him ...'

I shook my head. 'Lost him? How could you have lost him? Have you checked your room?'

'Mum, I just brought him back from Lauren's. And he's starving. I think my room would be the last place he'd go. He wants breakfast.'

'No,' I said, distracted, my mind focused elsewhere. 'No, I don't think so. No, he didn't come past me. He'll be somewhere. Keep looking. Right now I have rather a lot on my mind ...'

'But where could he be, Mum? He can't just have disappeared into thin air!'

I think we both thought the same thing at exactly the same instant. See how you like this, then, Mr f.u.c.king Perfect ... Oh, G.o.d, I thought. Bob. She must have him. In any event, neither of us said anything more just turned around, the pair of us, and thundered up the stairs.

Kieron beat me, and thundered into Sophia's bedroom. It was empty. He then marched out again and went across the landing to the bathroom, the door of which as wasn't generally the case was closed. He tried the handle. The door was locked. He began banging on it furiously. 'Sophia!' he was yelling. 'You've got my dog in there, haven't you? I know you have! Let him out! Let him out right now!'

'f.u.c.k off!' she screeched back, just as I got there. 'The dog hates you! And if I'm going, the dog's coming with me!'

Kieron had tears in his eyes now, I could see, as he beseeched me 'What's she doing to him, Mum? What does she mean? Mum, get Bob out! You have to get Bob out! Please get Bob out!' his voice, too, was now becoming hysterical.

I banged at the door with all the force I could muster. 'Sophia, you have ten seconds. Ten seconds, do you hear? You can lock yourself in there for all time, if you want to, but the dog comes out, you hear? The dog comes out right now!'

Silence. I put my head to the door, listening, despairing. I simply didn't know what she was capable of. I really didn't. And I was terrified. All these empty b.l.o.o.d.y useless words! All so pointless! And then I heard a thump a solid 'thunk' sound, followed by a loud yelp. Kieron did too, and we could both all too readily visualise the image of our cherished pet being slammed into a wall.

'Sophia!' he screamed at her. 'I am going to break this b.l.o.o.d.y door down!'

He had just raised his fists to it when it did indeed open. Just a crack, just enough for poor Bob to wriggle through it, before slamming shut again, only narrowly missing mincing his tail. But my sigh of relief at seeing him was short-lived. Bob shot past us on trembling legs, skittering wildly across the landing, before half-running, half-falling, all the way down the stairs, coming to rest, whimpering and staggering, on the hall carpet.

Kieron let out a cry of anguish and immediately thundered after him and, by the time I reached the bottom, had already gathered Bob in his arms, his tears making twin s.h.i.+ny tracks down his cheeks, as he watched his beloved pet twitch in terror. I had not seen my son cry for close on ten years, and seeing him cry now broke my heart. Oh, G.o.d, I prayed. Please let poor Bob be okay.

Chapter 22.

Looking at Kieron's anguished face made me feel terrible.

'Oh, G.o.d, Mum, look at him! Do you think he's broken anything? Oh, G.o.d!' I carefully felt all Bob's limbs, with shaking hands, and was relieved to find that all seemed in order. He didn't flinch or whimper, and I felt a surge of relief. He was just terrified and traumatised. He'd be okay.

But I wasn't. G.o.d, I was so angry. We had been here already last year, when Justin, during a particularly dark time, had been viciously cruel to the poor animal. This wasn't fair. This wasn't right. This wasn't on.

'I think he's fine, love,' I rea.s.sured Kieron. 'She's obviously kicked him, or hit him or thrown him or something, but he's a tough little fella. He's fine, I think. Just fine.'

Even so, I thought suddenly, even as I consoled my fraught son, I would have to keep a very close eye on him. If she had thrown him and that sickening sound seemed to suggest it he might have internal injuries, ones I couldn't see. But for now I was rea.s.sured. He seemed to brighten by the moment. 'Why don't you feed him?' I suggested to Kieron. 'Get some food inside him, bless him.'

Nodding mutely, Kieron took him off to the kitchen, where Bob encouraged both of us that, actually, he was recovering by the moment, by wolfing down a huge bowl of dog food. 'I'm going to take him to Lauren's,' Kieron told me as Bob finished. 'And I'm not bringing him home until she's sorted out.'

The 'she' in question, Sophia, had now returned to her bedroom we had both heard the thunk of her bedroom door slamming. Which was fine by me. Rather than confront her again, I took the opportunity to gather my thoughts. The GP was due now in less than half an hour. I filled it by updating my journal. I left nothing out, detailing every little thing I could think of. The only thing I omitted as I recapped my pen was, 'We are, literally, living in a madhouse ...'

Our GP, Dr Shackleton, had been our family doctor for about fifteen years. He knew the whole family and was a jovial, no-nonsense sort. He'd seen everything during his long years in practice, including Addison's, so I felt confident he'd be able to enlighten me.

When I took him upstairs, it was to find Sophia lying placidly on her bed, reading a magazine, and perfectly happy (though she spoke very little, just nodded) to submit to a thorough examination. He checked her pupils, he checked her blood pressure, he checked her reflexes and pulse, he checked things what weren't obvious to me vision and balance, perhaps, I wasn't sure he palpated her stomach, and he percussed her chest. He asked her questions about how she was, and about how she'd felt earlier, and her response, overwhelmingly, was subdued and polite. She didn't remember anything about the events of the morning, and looked genuinely mortified when he very gently probed her about whether she might have been violent towards the family dog.

Eventually, his tests done, he suggested she get some rest, and, once again, she meekly acquiesced. She even pulled the bedspread over her to indicate the fact, and by the time we left the bedroom she'd closed her eyes.

'So what do you think?' I asked him, once we were again downstairs, in the kitchen. I spoke quietly, out of habit, and I also shut the door. I couldn't shake off the feeling that she might appear out of nowhere and start raving at us all over again.

'I think she's quite poorly,' he said. 'And it's possibly related to her condition. Possibly not. She certainly seems to be having some psychotic episodes. And from what you've said, it sounds like they're increasing, which is worrying.'

I explained that we were waiting for a referral to CAMHS, so she could have her mental health properly a.s.sessed. 'But you're right,' I said. 'It is getting worse, and more frequent. I'm beginning to be really frightened about what she might do next. Especially given her history of suicide attempts, and all the traumas and distress she's been through this past year. It's like living with a ticking bomb, to be honest,' I admitted. 'And, well ... I don't mind telling you, I'm getting to the end of my tether.'

He smiled rea.s.suringly. 'Leave it to me,' he said. And to my immense relief he rang the hospital then and there, to refer Sophia as a matter of urgency, and though the Easter Bank Holidays would hold things up a little we were promised an appointment for the following week.

'But as I'm sure everyone keeps telling you,' he said as I showed him out, 'don't just keep thinking you have to soldier on, Casey. If you're worried, or frightened, just call 999. As I'm sure you know '

' that's what they're there for,' I finished for him. 'I know,' I said, smiling ruefully. 'And I will.'

I popped up to check on Sophia straight after he'd left, mostly to rea.s.sure myself she really was asleep before embarking on all the housework I'd not had time to do. Where had the day gone? It felt like it had disappeared from beneath me. And with it, all my nice, rea.s.suring sense of order.

But she wasn't asleep. She was still lying just as we'd left her, under the bedspread. But her eyes were wide open, and staring at the ceiling. She turned her head as I entered and, in what felt like the first time in ages, her expression was perfectly normal. No gla.s.sy-eyed stare, no contorted mask of anger, just an acknowledgement that I'd come into the room.

'I'm sick, aren't I, Casey?' she said quietly.

I nodded slightly. 'Yes, you are, love, I think.' I couldn't lie to her. I shouldn't lie to her. 'But the doctor's going to help you, okay? That's what he's there for. We've got an appointment arranged for you. Well, almost. For next week. And in the meantime, well, one day at a time, eh?'