Part 16 (2/2)

She nodded.

'So, can I get you anything? I'm just about to make a start on tea. But do you want a drink and a nice salty snack to keep you going?'

'A drink would be nice. Orange juice?'

I nodded and smiled. 'Orange juice. Coming right up.'

I turned to leave the room, but just as I was through the door, she called me back.

'Casey, is Bob okay?'

'He's fine,' I rea.s.sured her. 'He's absolutely fine.'

'I had no idea I'd hurt him. Honestly, I didn't, Casey. I'll apologise to Kieron. I'm so, so sorry. I feel so terrible. I just don't know why I did it ... it wasn't me ... honest, Casey. It was like I was someone else ... Oh, G.o.d, I'm so, so sorry.'

I hovered a moment, unsure whether to cross the room and give her a cuddle. But something stopped me. I just couldn't bring myself to. Not yet. My own son's anguish was still too raw for me. Instead, I smiled. 'Love, he's fine. And it's all done and finished with. Forgotten. We both know you didn't mean it. Okay?'

She nodded meekly. 'Okay,' she said quietly.

That was the thing, I decided, as I walked back downstairs. There was no point in berating or disciplining this child. It was as if, when she behaved as she did, she was absent. As if her life had become gradually more and more torn more full of holes. She'd fall into one, act out, do and say terrible things, before, somehow, managing to find her way back to reality, unaware, in any useful sense, of what had happened.

I wished I knew more about psychology, could understand more. I didn't have a clue what was happening, but one thing seemed clear: that the holes, bit by bit, were getting bigger. How long before she fell down one so vast and deep that she couldn't find the means to climb out again?

And I was obviously in something of a hole myself. Or at least I must have appeared to be. Kieron and Bob returned a few days later, and, just as she'd promised, Sophia apologised, and the Easter weekend pa.s.sed without incident. But I'd become aware of a new enthusiasm in the family for checking up on me, with Riley calling and popping round at an unprecedented rate, Mike calling from work on the flimsiest of pretexts, and even Riley's David taking to ringing me at odd times because he was either picking up Riley or dropping off Riley, and wondering, 'Is there anything you need, Case?'

Most odd, I decided. Very out of character. My family were fantastic, and had always been supportive, but this was something new. And though I suspected this was all designed to make me feel better, it actually had the opposite effect. Much as I loved them, I couldn't bear to think that what they thought was that I was actually drowning in all the mayhem. Or was I? If that was the vibe I was giving off, then I needed to get a grip and stop it happening.

But we were all, to a certain extent, holding our breath. John had called back another long chat without progress, bar another update as had the police, following up on the incident when she'd threatened suicide. I was actually shocked to hear from them, as it seemed completely out of the blue. I only put two and two together when I remembered that Bev (or perhaps Phil it was all a blur now) had told me they'd be informed as a matter of course. I rea.s.sured them all was well now, and that some medical help was being sorted, and hung up with nothing more than a sense of bemus.e.m.e.nt and a new 'log' number to add to my files.

And, somehow, we reached the Sunday before the summer term a week later with nothing in the way of new developments, good or bad. Well, apart from the ironing pile, which had become a bit unruly, so I'd earmarked the early evening for a session in the conservatory. I might not finish it, but I did need to crack on with some of it. Sophia needed her school uniform, Mike needed s.h.i.+rts and Kieron needed his motley a.s.sortment of band T-s.h.i.+rts at least corralled into some sort of order.

I wasn't surprised to see Sophia appear in the doorway. She seemed to like the conservatory almost as much as I did. She was already dressed for bed, though it was only eight in the evening, and clutching the book of style tips by some celebrity fas.h.i.+onista that my mum and dad had bought for her for Easter. I'd been touched I'd remembered to tell them that sweet treats were a no-no, because of the way the steroids affected her, and the book was a particularly thoughtful present.

Sophia threw herself into her favourite armchair and curled her legs underneath her, then grinned up at me.

'Tell you what, you must love ironing, Casey, judging by the size of the pile you've saved up there!'

'Pah!' I said, even though I couldn't help but smile at her witticism. 'I wish I did! But it's my least favourite thing in the whole world.'

She laughed. 'I know. I'm only teasing. Do you want me to do some?'

I was stunned by this offer but I was careful not to show it. And I certainly didn't need to be asked twice. 'Take it away, love!' I enthused, putting down the iron and beckoning her towards it. 'You'll be my best friend for life if you make a dent in that wretched pile.' I moved out from behind the board and grabbed my cigarettes. 'So be my guest!'

I didn't leave her sweating over a hot ironing board alone, however. I took the opportunity to stand in the doorway to the garden and enjoy the treat of an unexpected cigarette. And watching her, doing everything so carefully and conscientiously, gave me a real pang inside. Seeing her doing this simple thing for me, it was so hard to accept that there were these two completely different sides to this girl. I wished again that I had some proper understanding of the workings of the human mind I really wanted to be able to make sense of it all. If you didn't know her, right now, you would think her absolutely normal a sweet girl doing a typically girlie thing. She was just at that age a touch before the rants of the later teen years when girls typically like to do all those mumsy kinds of things, like helping with the ironing and learning how to cook. What a tragedy her mum couldn't see this.

But inside her and as a result of what had happened to her mother, the things she'd seen this other personality was lurking. Not typical of anything not anything that I'd encountered, anyway it was, I supposed, an amalgam of all the horrors she had been through in her short life.

But what was I doing? I wondered, as I stubbed my cigarette out. Stupid to give myself a headache trying to play psychiatrist. I should just be sure to capitalise on the pleasing here and now.

'So,' I said, getting comfy in my own favourite chair. 'What does your book recommend is the best look for a five foot nothing forty-something with black curly hair?'

That night in bed with Mike I felt strangely optimistic. It had been close on a week now since she'd had her last outburst. I didn't know if it was the knowledge that help was forthcoming, or just the effect of the school holidays, or just a coincidental period of relative calm. But I had this powerful sense that the doctors would be able to help her. That things could be looking up. That we could find a way through.

'She certainly seems happier,' Mike agreed. 'And more positive, too. As if she's come to accept that people really do want to help her.'

'Let's just hope it lasts,' I said. 'Because I think that'll be key to the whole process. Keeping her stable enough to accept whatever help she's offered.' I snuggled up to him. 'You know,' I said, 'something occurred to me earlier. It's mad, I know, but it really feels like fostering's our whole life now.'

'It would do. It is. It is yours, at any rate ...'

'No, I don't mean in terms of the hours we spend doing it. I mean I can't remember not fostering. Can't remember what it was like. Our old lives just seem a million miles away now. I feel we're different people now, you know?'

He laughed. 'Definitely. Kids! I think we just forgot how radically they change your life!'

'You can say that again,' I replied. 'And for the better, don't you think? I mean, I know this has been a nightmare so far, in lots of ways. But that's what it's about, isn't it? Lots of peaks and lots of troughs. But when we come out the other side ... well, it'll be just like Justin again, won't it? And there's no doubt about it that was the best feeling in the world ...'

His answer was a mumbled 'mmm'. He was drifting off now.

And it was late. I switched my bedside light off and did likewise, my last thoughts all positive and optimistic ones. I couldn't know that between now and that 'other side' I'd mentioned lay the biggest and scariest trough yet.

Chapter 23.

'Casey, it's Alan Barker. I'm so sorry to have to do this, really I am, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to spoil your day again.'

Monday. The first week of the school summer term, and I'd been having such a nice day.

My positive mood of the previous weekend had stayed with me. I'd woken up with it, taken it through making breakfast and getting showered, had it sit on my shoulder as I'd seen Sophia and Kieron off to school and college, and had it accompany me on the best and most protracted bout of spring cleaning I'd found time to do in many, many weeks. My house gleamed from top to bottom and I was pleasantly tired.

But now this. I looked at my watch. It was 3 p.m. Almost home time from school. And Sophia's head of year was on the phone. Again. I let a sigh escape. What now?

'Go on then, Alan,' I said. 'Go on, but break it to me gently.'

'Well, it's a little awkward ...' he started.

'Awkward? In what way awkward?'

'Well, I can only report what I've been told.' He paused. 'And I have purposefully waited till the end of lessons.' Which was kind of him. 'But Sophia's been an absolute nightmare today, basically.'

I felt the sigh deepen. 'Go on.'

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