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 shiny 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?"
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 shirts and Kieron needed his motley a.s.sortment of band T-shirts 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 fashionista 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."