Too Hurt to Stay Chapter 1

7/30/2019 Too Hurt to Stay Chapter 1

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To my wonderful and supportive family


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Contents

Cover

Title PageDedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17


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Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Casey Watson

Copyright

About the Publisher

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Chapter 1

They always say a change is as good as a rest,dont they? And lets face it, who wants to puttheir feet up and do nothing all day long? Notme.

Which was just as well. It was mid-August, atime of year where rest tends to be high on the

agenda, but as I hefted my number one grandsonfrom his car seat, my principal thought was fatchance.

I didnt like to admit it, because at forty-threeI was young for a granny, but four hours in town

with my daughter Riley and her two little oneshad exhausted me. Not that I hadnt asked for it.Id been itching to spend more time with Leviand Jackson, so I had no business moaning andgroaning about it. And besides, I well re-

membered how tiring it was being a young mumwith two little ones to run around after; with Levialmost three now and Jackson just six monthsold, Riley had her work cut out.

And I remembered how tiring childcare couldbe better than most grannies, maybe. Wed just

said goodbye to our last foster children, and


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though at ten and seven Ashton and Olivia hadntexactly been toddlers, they had certainly been aschallenging as little ones. As with all the kids wetook, these had been profoundly damaged chil-dren, so caring for them had definitely taken itstoll.

God, I could kill for a coffee, I told Riley aswe got the kids indoors and settled them in theliving room with some toys.

You sit down, she said. Ill deal with thedrinks. But almost as soon as Id lowered myselfand the baby into an armchair with a picturebook, the phone rang. Levi shot to his feet.

Which meant I had to be quick. He was three

now and his most favourite thing at the momentwas to chat on the phone. Needless to say, hebeat me to it.

Hiya! he was babbling into the receiver.Hiya! Lub you! Then his usual follow-up. Okay,then. Byeee!

I gently prised the receiver from him, despitehis indignant protests, and hoped whoever wason the end hadnt already hung up. Happily hehadnt it was John Fulshaw, our fostering-agency link worker though hed been about to.

Thought Id dialled a wrong number, he

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chuckled. Either that or you were doing a bit ofmoonlighting. Thought youd wanted a break!

Its Levi, I told him. And this is my break.Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure?

My, hes growing up fast, John said. Then hecleared his throat. It was a sign I knew of old. Asign that invariably meant that the tone of theconversation was about to change.

So? I asked.

So, talking of breaks, he continued, well, Ijust wondered how adamant you felt on thatfront?

Go on, I said slowly, while pulling a face atRiley. She was standing in the kitchen doorway,

listening.Well, John said again, obviously limbering

up still, we just wondered what the chances wereof you taking on another placement. Its not go-ing to be long term

Yeah, right. Heard that one before, John.No, this time Im sure of it. The plan here is

for the child to be returned home to his family assoon as possible.

Which seemed odd. My husband Mike and Ididnt do mainstream fostering. We were special-

ist carers, trained to deliver a behaviour-

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modification programme that was geared tohelping the most profoundly damaged kids.These were kids that were too challenging to befostered in the mainstream, and for whom the al-ternative was often the grim option of a secureunit. Theyd often been through the system childrens homes and foster homes already. Wewere very much the last-chance saloon for theseunfortunates, our aim being to give them lots of

love and firm boundaries, and in so doing im-prove their behaviour enough for them to be re-turned, not to their families that option wasmostly long gone but to mainstream fostercarers. That was what had just happened with

Ashton and Olivia. So this situation was odd.That sounds unusual, I told John.Even more than you know, Casey. This kid

whose name is Spencer, by the way is onlyeight, yet he took himself off to social services onhis own just marched into their offices and de-manded that they put him into care.

What? I said, laughing incredulously. So hegoes in there, asks for a foster carer and thats it?Is that what youre saying?

Well, not exactly. This actually happened a

few weeks ago. And was taken seriously, too.

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There was a suspicious-looking bruise on hiswrist, which he wasnt really able to account for and neither was the father. Seems theres somesort of question mark in that regard about themum. Anyway, naturally, its all been followedup. Social services, family support and so on.Theyve been trying to support the family, offer-ing coping strategies and advice, but none of itappears to have worked so far. There are five

children in the family, little Spencer being thethird of them, and there dont seem to be any is-sues or problems with the others. Mums beingtreated for depression, apparently, but, bar thisone child, the family are coping. Just not with

Spencer. So thats where we are now.Cant cope with him? Why ever not? You say

hes eight, yes?Thats right.So what could an eight-year-old have pos-

sibly done thats so bad?Not that much, from what I can see, except

that theyve described him as almost feral. Had ayearning for the streets from a very young age.Running away all the time, even spending wholenights missing, and the parents say they simply

dont know what to do with him any more. So

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now its turned on its head, really. Its them whoare pressing, because they dont feel confidentthey can keep him safe any more.

Bloody hell, John. That sounds crazy. Thatyoung and they cant keep control of him?

Thats the story. And from what social ser-vices tell me, that really is the case. The otherkids all appear absolutely fine.

So has he got mental-health problems? Psy-

chological problems? What?Im told not. The parents apparently told so-

cial services that they are at a loss themselves.They described him as vicious and abnormal, andclaim he was born evil.

I balked at that. Honestly! Some people. Chil-dren werent born evil. I truly believed that. Theygot damaged by environment, circumstances,neglect. It was that which caused behaviour tospiral out of control. Not some evil gene. Id yetto meet a child who was born bad. I suspected Inever would, either.

Okay, I said. And just when did you have inmind for this evil child to come to us?

Well, obviously, youll want to speak to Mikefirst, John answered. But if youre both in agree-

ment, we could bring him over to meet you next

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Monday, with a view to him moving in that sameweek.

Ah, I thought. Mike. Then I tried not to thinkit, as the last words my husband had said to methat morning were how much he was looking for-ward to a few weeks of peace. Just the two of us.A proper recharge of our batteries, after what byanyones yardstick had been a rollercoaster of ayear. And tonight, hed said, dont do a thing

about dinner. Im ordering in a takeaway, a nicebottle of your favourite wine, a few candles

Oh dear, I thought. Oh dear.John went on to explain that Spencer was

currently staying with another specialist carer

temporarily. Her name was Annie and I knew hervaguely. She was in her mid-fifties, and I seemedto remember hearing on the grapevine that shedrecently lost her husband, poor thing. Because ofthis, and the fact that she was considering retire-ment soon anyway, she had asked to be con-sidered only as a respite carer now; just steppingin when full-time foster carers needed a few daysbreak. Which was why, John finished, it was im-portant they move Spencer on quickly. I could al-most hear him crossing his fingers.

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Hmm, said Riley once Id put down thephone, having promised John Id get back to himthe following morning. I wouldnt like to be inyour shoes when Dad gets home, for sure. Whathappened to the plan to take the rest of the sum-mer off? Flown out of the window now, has it?

I bustled us both back into the kitchen andwinked at her as I took my coffee. Oh, you knowme, I said. Dad can always be persuaded

Well, rather you than me, she said. AndDads right, Mum. With a job like this I think youshouldhave a bit of a break before the next shock

Shock? Honestly, Riley you make it sound so

dramatic. Theyre only kids, you know, not littlesavages!

Riley didnt need to answer, because even as Isaid it I was reminded that when Ashton andOlivia had arrived with us, little savages were ex-actly what they looked like. Literally. More as iftheyd strolled out of a prehistoric cave all ragsand lice and scabies than from a council housean hour and a halfs drive away.

But if I spent the rest of the day optimisticallyplanning my strategy to break the news to him

gently, I was soon to be reminded that it was

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going to be a tough one. It had been a glorious af-ternoon, most of which wed spent out in thegarden, and when David, Rileys partner, arrivedto pick the family up, almost the first words shesaid to him were, Youll never guess what. Big,big news! Mums only agreed to take on a newkid, like, next week. And without asking Dad.

As with Rileys earlier, Davids expressionsaid it all. No, I havent! I protested. I havent

agreed to anything.Riley grinned and touched a finger to her

temple. Yeah, you have, she said, laughing. Sogood luck.

Back inside and tidying the toys away, I smiled tomyself. Riley knew me too well. Knew how muchId want to do this. It was exactly the sort of chal-lenge I loved. Just eight years old and alreadybranded so horribly. It almost beggared belief,and I wanted to know more. I tidied the toys

away, washed up the few plates and cups wedused, then swept the floor and wiped down allthe kitchen surfaces. I loved to clean. So much sothat in my past life I think I must have been ascullery maid, but even with my exacting stand-

ards of housewifery the fact was that it wasnt sixyet and I had nothing left to do. I couldnt even

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busy myself by making a start on dinner, becauseMike was going to order in that takeaway. See, Itold myself, thats why I dont want a break. Imbored. I have nothing to do all day now that thekids have left home. What else can I do if I donthave kids in?

This was key. As a specialist carer, one of theconditions of my employment was that I didnttake any other job. I was required to be on call

24/7, as most of the kids we got in were so chal-lenging, and needed such a lot of one-to-one sup-port. Which was what I loved. Prior to fosteringId been a behaviour manager in a large compre-hensive school, looking after all the difficult and

troubled kids. And it had been the idea of thisdemanding one-on-one role that had inspired meto do our kind of fostering in the first place.

See, I told myself again, popping out to theconservatory for a cigarette. I needed to havekids in. Without that challenge I just felt soredundant.

Having convinced myself that Mike would un-derstand, I went back inside, grabbed the bookId bought in town and started half-heartedlyreading the first few pages. But I was barely

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taking in the words and was happy to fling it onthe sofa as soon as I heard the sound of Mikescar.

Hi, babes how was your day? I gushed,planting a kiss on his cheek as he walked into thehall. He was carrying the promised wine in onehand, and a big bunch of red roses my favour-ite in the other. Oh! I cried, feeling even moreguilty than ever. Theyre gorgeous. What an un-

expected pleasure! Come on, let me put the kettleon and make you a nice mug of coffee.

Casey, he said, his eyes narrowing. Whathave you done? Have you been out buying hand-bags? Come on. Own up.

Oh, for goodness sake, love, I trilled. Youreso suspicious. Cant I even be nice to you withoutyou thinking theres an ulterior motive?

His expression remained the same. Er no.Not this nice.

I flicked on the kettle and pulled a vase fromthe cupboard. Honestly, I said, feigning great of-fence. Thats so not fair. Though um I dohave something I need to ask you.

I had hoped this might sound like somethingof an unrelated afterthought, but my husband,

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who knew me as well as my kids did, was notfooled in the least.

Here we go, he said, plonking himself downat the kitchen table while I fussed about unwrap-ping the flowers and trying not to blush. Go on,then, he finished. Lets have it.

So I told him pretty much everything Johnhad told me, gently skimming over the born evilsection, and making a great deal of the oh, Im

soooo bored part.Then I held my breath, waiting for the ver-

dict. Which wasnt quite as immediately under-standing as Id hoped.

Oh, Casey, please love. Not yet, Mike said,

with genuine feeling. Its only been two bloodyminutes since the dog left home, let alone the lasttwo kids. Cant we have a bit of a breather? Isntthere someone else who could take this on?

I knew he had a point. It really had only feltlike two minutes. And though I missed Bob hewas our son Kierons dog, and had now gone tolive with him and his girlfriend Lauren, at herparents I knew the point that Mike was makingwas that for the first time in over two decades wehad no one and nothing to worry about bar

ourselves. There were the grandchildren, of

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course, but in terms of our home life well, itwas a first, and I could see what he was saying.

But I was on a mission and there was no way Iwas going to give up so easily. I had the bitbetween my teeth now. This child needed me.And having no one to worry about, to my mind,was overrated. Mike had his job as a warehousemanager, which involved some long hours, I un-derstood that but what was Isupposed to do? I

tried tugging, very gently, on his heart strings.So youre saying no? I asked, sorrowfully. Is

that it? I have to tell John theyll have to justdump him in a childrens home?

Thats not fair, Case, he said levelly. And

dont use words like dump on me, either. Youknow who Im thinking about here. You. Ill be atwork, he pointed out. Its you thatll have tocope. And I seem to remember it wasnt too longago that you were telling me just how much youwere looking forward to being able to have agreat deal more quality time with your owngrandchildren.

I know, I said, stabbing the stems into thevase distractedly. But I can do both. Its just onelittle boy, Mike. And Im so bored. I really am

He raised one eyebrow. Well, I soon will be,

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anyway. You know that. I cant rattle around herewith nothing to do. Ill go stir crazy

And what about our holiday? I thought wewere going to have a few days away?

We still can. Theres respite, dont forget. Iput down the stem I was holding, and crossed thekitchen. I put the wine bottle in the fridge itwould need chilling, after all then I went backto the table and sat on his knee. With me at five

foot nothing and Mike at six foot three, it wasone of the few ways I could look him in the eye,on his level. Will you just think about it? I askedhim. Please? Anyway, we dont need a holiday.Look out of the window. Its just gorgeous. We

can sunbathe in the garden. Pretty please?His eyes narrowed again, but I could see it

was a different kind of narrowing. One that saidhere we go as opposed to no, you dont.

Youre not going to let this drop, he said.Are you?

What do you think? I answered.Job done.In the end we had a Mexican, drank the whole

bottle of wine and watched an old favouritemovie of ours, American Werewolf in London.

Well, you did say this lads a bit feral, Mike

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quipped. So we can look upon this as a bit of pri-or research.

Thematically, though, perhaps it should havebeen Apocalypse Now, for it signalled the end ofour peace and quiet time, for sure. But I didntmind. I went to bed that night feeling a veryhappy bunny. I couldnt wait to see what Mondayhad in store.

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Too Hurt to Stay Chapter 1

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