‘You’ve got to learn how girls operate, mate. Stuff on beds. That’s their thing. Totally pointless, but completely indispensable. Am I not right, oh noble Cushion Queen? Isn’t that exactly what girls do?’
I laughed. ‘It’s exactly what girls do,’ I said.
As well as the CDs and the fluffy bunny, and some appropriately pink festive toiletries, there was also a dressing gown – also pink and fluffy – a pair of butterfly-strewn pyjamas, a set of various hair bobbles and clips, and what I’d thought was the latest Harry Potter book – The Order of the Phoenix – which, according to a laughing Tyler, wasn’t very ‘latest’ these days, but was a bargain, apparently, and would definitely double up as a doorstop if she’d already read it.
I reached for the wrapping paper, and handed scissors and ribbon to Tyler. ‘I’ll wrap, you garnish,’ I said, which always made him giggle. ‘Remember the way I showed you how to curl the ribbon?’
‘Course,’ he said. (In fact he was something of a natural.) ‘But I swear to God, don’t ever tell any of my mates I do stuff like this. Especially Denver. I’d never live it down.’
Denver was Tyler’s best friend – had been for a few years now. He was a lovely boy and, from the start, he had been so good for Ty, particularly during the early days when he so missed his younger brother, who was still with his father and (to my mind) wicked stepmother. Ty and Denver had a bond now that I’d stake my life would prove unbreakable. And despite their endless quest to create some kind of hard-man image in public, they were both very similar in nature: kind-hearted and loving kids.
‘I swear on everything swearable on that your secret is safe with me,’ I told him. ‘Just like I’ve never told him you still have your bedtime milk in a plastic Spiderman cup.’
‘Mother!’ Tyler yelled, making me smile even more. The longer he was with us, the more he became just like us. A natural phenomenon, of course, but still thrilling even so. Not least because he sounded so like our Kieron at that age. Our Kieron who was now a fully grown, fully wise twenty-seven-year-old with a toddler. One of the joys of fostering, without a doubt, was the privilege (which was what it felt like to me) to live so many special parenting moments again.
But a great deal of what we did was about the bad times rather than the good times, and, the presents wrapped and the clock ticking – it was by now after 10 p.m. – it was at the front of my mind that our young visitor still hadn’t arrived yet.
By ten o’clock I was getting more than a bit antsy. Bella still hadn’t arrived and though I knew everything would change as a consequence of her coming to us, we still had to eat, and we still had to celebrate Christmas, albeit in perhaps a less OTT, more thoughtful fashion. Which meant I still had lots of preparation to do for the next day’s big celebratory dinner. I had the turkey to sort out, the vegetables to peel and the stuffing to make. The more I thought about it, the more panicked I was getting, not least because we still hadn’t made a firm plan for the morning either. Yes, I’d texted Riley, but we’d settled on a ‘we’ll see’ scenario, which left an item not ticked off my mental to-do list – always a recipe for ants in the pants.
But such is human nature. Despite the momentous events that had happened in the life of the girl who was on her way to us, which, by any yardstick, made worries about having the stuffing ready ridiculous, it was human nature for me to focus on the practical. What was the saying? Not ‘don’t sweat the small stuff’ – I couldn’t help doing that. No, the one about not worrying about the things you couldn’t control, and sticking to the ones that you could.
So it was that I had both hands in a bowl of sausage meat and breadcrumbs when my mobile went again. It was getting on for eleven – and it was John, despite his assurance that he’d clocked off hours ago.
Mike was in the living room watching TV and Tyler was now in bed, so I picked it up gingerly with my greasy hands.
‘John, honestly,’ I berated him. ‘You are supposed to be off duty.’
‘I know, I know,’ he said. ‘And the wife’s probably busy plotting ways to kill me. But I had to ring; didn’t think you’d be logging on to read your email.’
‘No, you’re right,’ I said. ‘I actually had my hands in the stuffing. Hang on for ten seconds, can you, while I scrape them clean?’
That job done, we returned to the matter in hand. And the news that Bella had been delayed by the need for a whopping diversion, to collect the presents that had apparently already been bought and wrapped for her and were stashed at the family home in her parents’ wardrobe.
‘Bit eleventh hour,’ I remarked. ‘How come that hadn’t happened in the first place?’
‘Message only just got through from Laura Daniels’s lawyer,’ John explained. ‘So the whole thing has turned into something of an epic journey. Latest ETA is still an hour or so from now. So Christmas Day, in fact. What a game this is, eh? Had to be done, though.’
‘Yes, had to be done,’ I agreed. And despite the late arrival, I was glad for her. She would at least have that connection to her parents to hang on to; however things panned out – and, knowing the odds when it came to head injuries bad enough to warrant a bed in ITU, it was probably all going to pan out pretty wretchedly – that connection to those closest to her was still important. And who knew how important it would be in the coming days and weeks? There was no guarantee her stepfather would even live, after all.
‘And something else,’ John said, pulling me back from my reverie. ‘The main reason I called, actually. Another snippet of information. I’ve been able to chat to Sophie’s line manager, Kathy –’
‘Sophie?’ I’d not come across a Sophie in the line of duty before.
‘Sophie is Bella’s social worker. Sorry – didn’t I say? You’ll like her. Anyway, it seems the first port of call when this whole thing blew up was the grandparents – Laura Daniels’s parents, that is – who were happy to take Bella in.’
‘But obviously didn’t.’
‘Exactly. Because Bella wouldn’t hear of it. I mean, seriously wouldn’t hear of it, by all accounts. To the point of becoming hysterical. Said she’d rather go to strangers than have to live with her granddad.’
My antennae started twitching immediately. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, too frightened of him. She was apparently quite open about it, too. No allegations of anything inappropriate – nothing like that’s been suggested, and he’s not known to social services or anything. But all’s clearly not well where the family is concerned. She’s close enough to the grandmother to spend time with her reasonably regularly, but neither Bella nor her mother see anything of the grandfather. Never go to the house. There’s obviously some kind of rift there. Course, it might not have any bearing on anything, but I thought it worth you knowing. It’s another piece of the jigsaw at least, isn’t it?’
I agreed that it was. And he was right. It was definitely worth us knowing. How it affected anything I didn’t know, but it all added to the picture. And one thing I’d learned a very long time ago was that there was rarely smoke without at least a small hint of a fire. Time would tell. I signed off with a ‘Don’t you dare ring me again till at least the 27th,’ then put my head round the kitchen door and summoned my husband. I needed a kitchen hand, a confidant and coffee.
It was almost midnight when we heard the car pull up and both Mike and I hurried to peek out of the window.
Mike whistled, long and low. ‘Wow,’ he said. ‘Social workers must be on some good pay these days. I’d give anything for a car like that.’
He then fell silent – out of respect – as the black BMW convertible