Scarlett’s Secret: A real-life short story by Casey Watson. Casey Watson

at work this morning, and as a consequence I’d hastily re-jigged the schedule to fit some more outdoorsy tasks in as soon as the English test was over

      ‘Did you notice?’ Katie said now, as I set about handing out the now stapled examination booklets. ‘How Scarlett got that body spray out yesterday afternoon and started spraying it on herself so pointedly?’

      I had. I’d seen it more than once. She’d get it out and make a big show of freshening herself up, then quietly urge her sister to do the same. Which Jade would do, albeit snatching it from her with an angry scowl on her face.

      ‘I know,’ I said, ‘and I’m still mulling over how best to approach it. Scarlett clearly knows how bad it is – you can see how she’s embarrassed …’

      ‘And it’s probably why they’re both so keen on sticking together, don’t you think?’ Katie said. ‘Scarlett particularly – it’s like she’s protecting her, isn’t it?’

      ‘Or trying to protect the rest of the group from having to get too close to Jade,’ I said. ‘I get the impression she’s more anxious that something might kick off. With Jade, I mean – if someone says something. Don’t you?’

      I’d been studying the girls closely, in fact, wondering how best to approach things, because it was clear something would need to be done before we set off for the residential centre – all those hours in a mini-bus followed by a week in a remote hostel, sleeping and living in such close quarters: it would be a challenge for anyone not blessed with a particularly heavy cold. I’d be tolerant of it, of course, but it made my nose wrinkle even thinking about it – and I knew her fellow course mates would be less forgiving. So speak to Jade or speak to Scarlett? I was still undecided. Something told me, however, looking at the way the girls interacted, that there was more to Jade’s astonishing lack of personal hygiene than met the eye.

      Katie agreed – and she was obviously on the same track as I was. ‘Sun,’ she commanded, looking out of the window and pointing a finger skywards, ‘we’re relying on you to be here next week, okay?’

      But with the British weather being unpredictable at the best of times – particularly in August – wishful thinking wouldn’t be enough. I would have to speak to one or both of them. You couldn’t stay outside the whole time, after all.

      But as often happens when you spend time dithering over a plan of action, I was beaten to it. I had decided to look a little deeper into the twins’ background before saying anything, and while there was nothing on their application that hinted at an obvious issue with Jade compared to Scarlett, there was a contact name given – for a lady called Jan. She was the Pastoral Care Manager at the school the twins had attended and, by happy coincidence, I knew her slightly. So I called her to see if she could tell me more.

      ‘Well,’ she said, ‘the one thing I can tell you about them you probably already know. That they were removed from home by social services just before the spring term in year eleven and were both put into care. They never returned – and as far as I know – missed taking their GCSEs as a consequence.’ She paused. ‘I’m told it was a serious child-protection issue, Casey, but, as I say, you probably already know this, don’t you?’

      I told her I didn’t.

      ‘Well, in that case,’ Jan said, ‘there’s something else you might not know, either. I heard afterwards that Jade was pregnant – though I don’t know the exact circumstances. I’m assuming she had a termination, but that’s all I know. I was wondering if it might be related to the reason the girls were removed from their home …’

      She didn’t need to say any more. A family member perhaps? It happened. I was shocked, though. There was nothing in either of the girls’ applications or interviews that would hint at such traumas having happened in their young lives, nothing about Jade that suggested something so sad had happened to this young girl. Apart from being a bit nervous and, in Jade’s case, having the body odour issue, they’d come across as quite grounded young girls.

      Jan’s comment about the reasons for the girls being taken into care lingered with me. What could have happened? What had they been subjected to? And by whom? Well, I thought, at least they were part of something now that might help them to open up and start to deal with it. After speaking to my manager, just to keep him in the loop, I resolved to make a particular effort to spend time alone with the girls while we were away, just in case it was an opportunity they wanted to take advantage of. That’s what the courses were for, after all – to give troubled kids a chance to put their troubles behind them and start to take their place in the adult world.

      But, like I say, the opportunity came about before we even left, and not in the most harmonious circumstances.

      It was the Friday; the final session before setting off on the Saturday, and we were completing our last preparatory session – an exercise in risk assessment. I’d just given a presentation on risk and danger and we were now talking about the business of why it was a good thing to push yourself to your own personal limit. Katie and I stood up to demonstrate an exercise about trust. It was one in which you got into pairs: one would stand with feet and arms outstretched, legs and feet steadied, while the other stood in front, just a couple of feet ahead, with their back to the other. The person in front then closed their eyes and fell backwards, trusting that their partner would catch them.

      Having demonstrated it (to some amusement, given that I’m five foot nothing and Katie is five six, and it was me doing the catching on this occasion), I told the group that we’d split into pairs and head to the park so we could practise some more variations out in the sunshine. I then left Katie to split the groups into pairs while I went off to the kitchen and filled bottles with squash.