This 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.
HarperElement
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published by HarperElement 2018
FIRST EDITION
© Casey Watson 2018
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
Cover image © Jim Powell/Alamy Stock Photo (posed by model)
Cover layout © HarperCollinsPublishers 2018
Casey Watson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Find out about HarperCollins and the environment at www.harpercollins.co.uk/green
Source ISBN: 9780008298555
Ebook Edition © November 2018 ISBN: 9780008298562
Version 2018-09-19
Contents
This book is dedicated to the army of passionate foster carers out there, each doing their bit to ensure that our children are kept as safe as possible in such a changing and often scary world. As technology is reinvented and becomes ever more complicated for those of us who were not brought up amid such advances, we can only try to keep up, in the hope that we continue to learn alongside our young people.
I remain endlessly grateful to my team at HarperCollins for their continuing support, and I’m especially excited to see the return of my editor, the very lovely Vicky Eribo, and look forward to sharing my new stories with her. As always, nothing would be possible without my wonderful agent, Andrew Lownie, the very best agent in the world in my opinion, and my grateful thanks also to the lovely Lynne, my friend and mentor forever.
I woke up the next morning with a taste in my mouth. Not of cigarettes, though after dispatching Miller’s stolen ones, the smell had definitely lingered. No, it was the taste of failure. Of having lost it. Of having handled things badly.
Of course, I’d told Mike as soon as he’d woken up about the early hours disruption, and he was obviously as angry as I’d been. But even as I outlined the furious exchanges I’d had with Miller in the wee hours, I could see his expression begin to change.
‘Casey, you’re missing the point here entirely.’
‘What?’ I said, shocked by his slightly exasperated tone. ‘I am finally at the point, Mike. The point where I’ve flipping well had enough of it. This game-playing. This manipulation. This –’
‘Love, listen to yourself. You’ve just proved it. You are entirely missing the point. Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand that had you not woken up, he could have burned the whole bloody house down? I mean seriously, think about it. Just one stray bit of burning paper, and the whole room could have gone up. And the rest of the house – with all of us in it – for that matter!’
‘Yes, Mike, of course I know that,’ I said. But as soon as I’d said it, I knew it for the untruth it was. God. He was right, I had entirely missed the point. I’d been so busy being furious that I’d forgotten to be scared. Hadn’t given a single thought, not in the heat of the moment, to the terrifying ‘what if’ of what was so clearly a highly dangerous situation. Had I become so habituated to the actions of this deeply disturbed child that his potentially setting the house ablaze was only a secondary consideration? Had my ‘normal’ barometer got that badly out of kilter?
‘Of course I know that,’ I said again, more to convince myself than anything. ‘And I made it very clear to him, believe me.’
But had I? Had I really? I had not. Not at all. I’d been so wrapped up in rescuing Tyler’s precious papers, and in outmanoeuvring Miller in his power-plays, that the words ‘burn the house down’ hadn’t even crossed my mind. Let alone passed my lips.
‘Seriously,’ I said again. ‘And I’ll be phoning Christine Bolton as soon as you’ve left for work, and his social worker. And I’ve removed his TV remote and his controller. But other than all of that, what else can I do?’
Mike got out of bed and headed for the shower.