Just a Boy

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Just a Boy Page 9

by Casey Watson


  ‘Badly,’ John said. ‘Which is where you and Mike come in. Because now we’ve met her we don’t think she’s suitable for mainstream care, basically. We’ve had a long chat with Mum this afternoon, and she wants what’s best for her child, after all.’

  ‘Of course …’

  ‘And, well, we’re all of the opinion that Abby might be, well, how shall I put it? A little idiosyncratic. I must stress that this isn’t coming from Mum, before you ask. It’s just our assessment, based on what Bridget has seen, and from what we know of how the two of them have been living. I’m obviously not conversant with all the details, but the bottom line would seem to be that this particular nine-year-old is not like any normal nine-year-old. She’s been caring for her mum from a very young age, and has basically had no sort of childhood. I know it sounds daft and, yes, we could be over-dramatising this, but our feeling is that being with you and Mike, and doing the programme kind of back to front, if you like, would give her the best chance of getting back on track. You know, getting her used to living as a child again, basically.’

  ‘You’ve obviously met her,’ I said. ‘How did she seem to you?’

  ‘Odd, definitely. Twitchy. Has some pronounced – very obvious – tics. I think that’s how I’d describe it. Anxious. Incredibly anxious. Wound up about as tight as she can be, is my feeling. I mean she’s in a state of trauma right now, obviously, but, reading between the lines, there’s probably much more besides. So it seemed to us that the best thing would be to take this bull by the horns. Crazy to slot her into a mainstream placement only to have it break down again in a matter of days or weeks.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I agreed, feeling that familiar surge of adrenalin that always accompanied the prospect of a new child. ‘Though I hope your faith in us isn’t going to be misplaced, John. We’re not psychiatrists …’

  ‘I know. Absolutely. And we’ll obviously be reviewing things as a matter of urgency. Counselling’s probably a must-do that needs flagging up right away. But I know you two can give her that something extra, in terms of structure, that she probably needs right now.’

  ‘I like to think so. We’ll certainly do our best. So. When do you want to schedule a meeting? Just name the day.’

  ‘Ah,’ said John. And it was a kind of ‘ah’ I’d heard from him before. ‘That’s the thing,’ he went on. ‘I was wondering if we could skip that part of the process.’

  ‘Ri-ight …’ I said.

  ‘Because I really think we need to bring her now.’

  ‘Ri-ight …’ I said again, waiting for the next part of this process. The one where not only did we skip an initial meeting, but also skipped the first ‘get to know you a little’ visit, which was included to be sure both parties felt happy to proceed. I was fairly confident about this because by now I knew John well.

  And he didn’t let me down. ‘We were kind of hoping you’d agree to take her on right away. If you’re amenable, that is …’ he finished apologetically. ‘Are you? I know it’s a lot to ask.’

  I smiled to myself, loving how John always observed all the little protocols, bless him. Because when you thought about it, it wasn’t a lot to ask, really, was it? It was the job we did and I couldn’t think of a single prior occasion when ‘the process’, as written in the foster carer’s bible, had ever actually happened by the book.

  And who cared? Doing things by the book was boring anyway. ‘Of course we are,’ I reassured him. ‘Well, I am, at any rate, and so will Mike be, I’m sure, just as soon as I call and tell him. He’ll be glad, to be honest, because it’ll give me something else to think about besides all the home improvements he’s terrified I’m going to schedule for our already perfect house.’

  John laughed. ‘So I’ve actually done him a favour then, have I? Okay, so, let me see … okay if we pitch up in something like an hour and a bit?’

  I told him yes, and immediately mentally switched gears. Outside the sun was slinking away from overseeing another grey February day. But suddenly I couldn’t care less. I disconnected and immediately reconnected – this time to Mike. I couldn’t wait for him to get home. Our New Year had begun.

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  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank all of the team at HarperCollins, the lovely Andrew Lownie, and my friend and mentor, Lynne.

  Copyright

  This book is a work of non-fiction based on the author’s experiences. In order to protect privacy, names, identifying characteristics, dialogue and details have been changed or reconstructed.

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  First published by HarperElement 2013

  FIRST EDITION

  © Casey Watson 2013

  Casey Watson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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