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This book 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
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London SE1 9GF
First published by HarperElement 2019
FIRST EDITION
© Casey Watson 2019
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
Cover image © Clive Nolan/Trigger Image (posed by model)
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Casey Watson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780008298616
Ebook Edition © May 2019 ISBN: 9780008298623
Version: 2019-03-28
Contents
1 Cover
2 Title Page
3 Copyright
4 Contents
5 Chapter 18
6 Chapter 19
7 Chapter 20
8 Chapter 21
9 Chapter 22
10 Chapter 23
11 Chapter 24
12 Chapter 25
13 Epilogue
14 Also by Casey Watson
16 About the Publisher
LandmarksCoverFrontmatterBackmatter
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It wasn’t usual practice for a social worker to work with the children on their books at the weekends. Not that social work was ever just a nine-to-five job, because there were always occasions when the unexpected happened. But unless a social worker was on call, weekends were free time – well, in theory. They, like us, were always dogged by endless paperwork. It was also Easter weekend, and though we weren’t planning to make any sort of fuss (this year, Riley was going to be away with her in-laws, so it wouldn’t be much more than a quick Easter egg hunt for Dee Dee, at Kieron’s), others did, I knew. So I was extremely grateful when Colin Sampson agreed to help us out with Sam the following Saturday, so that Mike and me could go to Mrs Gallagher’s and talk about the potential upcoming respite.
We decided not to tell Sam where we were going, though. Just that Colin was coming over with an Easter egg, and wanted to spend time with him. It made sense – if either we or Mrs Gallagher changed our minds about Sam staying over with her, ignorance would be bliss; we wouldn’t find ourselves in the position of having built up Sam’s hopes only to dash them again.
Not that we needed to. Sam was as oblivious to the business of Colin having weekends off from work as he was to the notion that what I did was ‘work’. He was on a high about Colin coming and the ‘big Easter adventure’ they were going on, and if it even crossed his mind that there was a reason for us going off for a few hours he was too busy thinking about his own day to ask me.
‘We’re going on a very long journey,’ he told me as he paced the carpet by the front window. He was speaking