Crying for Help: The Shocking True Story of a Damaged Girl with a Dark Past

‘Well, it was nice of Jean to do that for you, wasn’t it?’ I said.

‘I s’pose,’ she agreed. ‘But Jean was pretty easy like that. I could get anything I wanted from her, basically.’

Again, I was brought up short by her words. What an inappropriate thing to say to another adult! I could imagine kids in a playground making comments like this, but here? To me? Another foster carer? I smiled anyway. ‘Is that right?’ I said. ‘Hmm. Well, I think you’ll find I’m not quite such an easy touch. I value my money too much, I’m afraid!’

This didn’t seem to faze her. Quite the contrary, in fact. ‘Ah, yeah,’ she said, polishing off her last mouthful of toast. ‘But I happen to know how much allowance foster carers get for kids, and it’s only fair it gets spent on us, isn’t it?’

Astonishing. Just astonishing. ‘Hmm,’ I said again, ‘well, I don’t know what you’ve heard – and I’m surprised people have even talked to you about this, to be honest – but believe me, that allowance is not there as pocket money, to be spent on anything and everything a child wants. It’s to care for you, Sophia. To pay for your keep, plus things like outings and holidays, and clothes – speaking of which, we’d better get our skates on. Riley’ll be here with Levi any minute.’

Sophia stood up and took her plate over to the sink, looking completely unconcerned. I nodded towards the hall. ‘Go on, scoot upstairs and get yourself dressed and ready, okay? Oh, and don’t forget to make your bed!’ I called after her.

My God, I thought, as I poured hot water onto the few bits of crockery. That girl really knew how to push buttons. Sounded like she had Jean wrapped right around her little finger – and didn’t seem to care who knew it, either. It was going to be a learning curve for Sophia, living with us, I thought wryly.

But, as I’d find out, it would be an even bigger one for me.

Chapter 5

Levi was beginning to recognise faces now, and it was wonderful to see the big grin he gave me when I swooped towards the pram and lifted him up. Grandchildren, I decided, should be available on the NHS.

‘How’s my little man, then?’ I asked him. ‘As gorgeous as ever? You want a coffee, love?’ I asked Riley. ‘Sophia’s still upstairs getting ready, so we’ve got time.’

Riley nodded, and went to flick the switch on the kettle. She then nodded towards the hallway. ‘How’s it going?’ she whispered. ‘What’s she like?’

I raised my eyebrows a touch. ‘You’ll see!’ I whispered.

As if on cue, Sophia clattered down the stairs, and came into the kitchen smiling, but looking (well, as far as I could tell on our few days’ acquaintance) uncharacteristically shy around Riley. Which was interesting. Riley had a big, big personality, but she definitely wasn’t the intimidating type. Not unless she needed to be, anyway. In fact, where my and Mike’s fostering was concerned, she was a godsend. She really cared about what we were doing, and wanted to help wherever she could. In fact, she was already talking about doing fostering herself, once Levi was a little bit older. She smiled broadly.

‘Hi! You must be Sophie, then,’ she said brightly. ‘Nice to meet you!’

‘Sophia,’ she corrected. ‘My name is Sophia. Not Sophie, okay? Just so you know.’ There was a sudden flash of anger in her eyes.

Riley nodded slightly, but didn’t otherwise react. Even though I knew she’d seen it too, bless her. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said nicely. ‘I must have heard wrong. Anyway, this little man here is my Levi. D’you want to give him a cuddle?’

The flash subsided just as quickly as it had appeared. And just as she’d intimated to me earlier, Sophia seemed very keen, holding her arms out as I handed him over, and now cooing, ‘Look at you! You’re so sweet! Oh, and look at your beautiful black curls!’ She turned to Riley. ‘He obviously gets his hair from you and your mum!’

Which was true. We all of us had thick, raven locks. ‘You wait till you hear him scream,’ Riley laughed. ‘He gets that from Mum too!’

‘Hey, you!’ I chided. ‘Anyway, let’s do this coffee. Time’s getting on and we need to head out.’

‘Casey,’ said Sophia. ‘Is it okay to put down the baby? I still need to finish getting ready.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I thought you were ready already.’

‘Er, not quite,’ she said, already leaving the kitchen. ‘I still have to do my hair.’

‘She looked pretty ready to me,’ Riley said, once Sophia had run back upstairs.

‘Me too,’ I agreed, puzzled. ‘Oh, well.’

‘So, what’s the lowdown, then?’ Riley asked. ‘How’s things going? She seems sweet enough.’

‘Yes, she is. Well, at least intermittently. But there’s a whole lot going on underneath the surface, obviously. Been a pretty grim time for her, these last couple of years.’ I told Riley about the incident with the nightwear and what had happened at the hospital. ‘I’m not quite sure I have a handle on her yet, to be honest. She seems to swing from mood to mood without any real warning. But, as I say, when you think about her background … well, there are bound to be challenges ahead, aren’t there? Still, she seems to have taken to you, anyway.’

Riley nodded. ‘Well, to Levi, at any rate. Actually …’ She lowered her voice. ‘I did notice she kept looking at me when she thought I couldn’t see. And rather strangely, too. You know? Kind of assessing?’

‘I know what you mean,’ I said. ‘I’ve felt that too. It’s like she has a mask in place most of the time. And it’s only when she lets it slip that you get a glimpse of what’s going on beneath. I’m sure she’s built a very big strong wall to protect herself …’ I handed her her coffee. ‘But I’ll get there.’

‘Well,’ said Riley, ‘if anyone can, you can, Mum, I’m sure!’

‘I appreciate your confidence,’ I said drily.

And speaking of masks, it was a full fifteen minutes before Sophia returned, and when she did we were both open mouthed in shock. She had changed, in that time, out of all recognition. Gone were the perfectly appropriate jogging bottoms and hoodie she’d been wearing, and gone also was the perfectly neat and brushed hair. Instead, she’d curled the latter to within an inch of its life, and changed into skinny jeans and a tight black vest top. But it was her face which was the most arresting thing about her. She had plastered it in make-up; really trowelled it on. Dark foundation, dark lipstick, a swathe of eye shadow, thick mascara – she looked more like an 18-year-old, headed for a night on the town, than a 12-year-old girl going shopping.

It was Riley who found her voice first. ‘Goodness, you look very glamorous!’ she observed diplomatically. ‘But it’s freezing outside. You’ll catch your death! You want to go upstairs and put something thicker over that?’

‘I’ve got a jacket,’ Sophia responded. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Sweetheart, isn’t that rather a lot of make-up to be wearing?’ I added gently. ‘You know, they won’t allow you to wear it like that at your new school next week, don’t you?’

‘That’s fine,’ she said airily. ‘I just like to make an effort.’ She turned to Riley then and smiled sweetly. ‘Don’t you wear make-up, Riley?’

If it was intended as a barb, it was a sharp one. But Riley didn’t flinch. ‘Not much, during the day,’ she said mildly. ‘I do when I go out, but when it’s light, in the daytime, I prefer to keep it looking natural. I could show you some tricks of the trade, if you like.’

Bless her, I thought. She was doing the same as I was. Remembering that this wasn’t a peer, just a young girl, in the midst of an appalling situation. But one with strong opinions, too. ‘That’s okay,’ she said. ‘But I like it like this, thanks.’

Upon which I think we both decided the best course of action was to draw a line under any more discussion of Sophia’s eyeliner. ‘Come on,’ I said, pretty much at the same instant Riley did. ‘Let’s head to town and do our girlie shopping.’

Twenty minutes later we’d made it into town and hit the shops, and to a passer-by we probably looked like a perfectly normal family gathering, except I couldn’t shake off the feeling that had been stalking me since Sophia’s arrival – that I had to be on guard, be alert, keep an eye trained on her all the time. Not physically – she was too old for me to worry about her running off and getting into scrapes – but just this vague nervousness, like she was this unknown quantity you had to keep checking on. It was her smile, I think. The fact that it never reached her eyes. As if it was stuck on, and could be whipped off in an instant.

But I had a mission on and I intended to complete it. ‘How about these?’ I suggested, once we were in a shop selling nightwear, and I was holding up the umpteenth pair of pyjamas.

Sophia shrugged indifferently. ‘Whatever.’

I bit my lip. She wasn’t being so different, I reminded myself, from plenty of other girls of her age. In the end I selected a few sets of PJs myself, together with a fleecy dressing gown that came with matching slippers.

‘Cheer up,’ said Riley, helpfully, as we exited the shop. ‘I had that dressing gown and slippers from Mum at Christmas, and they’re really cosy –’

‘Oh, she likes dressing girls up as old ladies, then, does she?’

I don’t think Sophia intended it for my ears, but I certainly heard it. Riley rounded on her. ‘Sophia! You could at least try to be grateful!’

‘And since you didn’t want to help me choose them, what do you expect?’ I added levelly. ‘And as Riley just said, a little gratitude really wouldn’t go amiss.’

I was busy thinking how this was what she most needed, her rude behaviour reined in a bit, just like I’d always made a point of doing with my own kids, when I realised she was about to burst into tears. It was incredible. One minute so cheeky, the next looking so wretched. Was this why everyone pussyfooted around her? Because you simply couldn’t discipline her for fear of her cracking up? I sighed inwardly. That wasn’t useful at all. If so, how could anyone help her?

I stopped scowling and instead scooped her into my arms.

‘I’m so sorry, Casey,’ she sobbed. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. Thanks for my pyjamas.’