Moving Fostering Memoirs 2-Book Collection. Casey Watson

my stomach.

      ‘Why did you want to know what colour hair he has, Phoebe?’

      She just shrugged.

      As the day wore on my anxiety about Phoebe’s strange reaction grew. Desmond, who had been delayed by a teenage runaway, didn’t make it to us until about 4pm, just as we arrived back from the park. It had been a positive venture out, if only for the fact that we were all adjusting to Phoebe’s sudden outbursts and becoming adept at squeezing in our conversations between prolonged bouts of screaming.

      ‘Hello, Phoebe,’ Desmond said, holding out his hand for Phoebe to shake. I watched her reaction closely. She stood swaying from side to side with her hands hidden behind her back, eyeing him warily. ‘Come on, girl, I don’t bite.’

      Des’s face was just a bit too rugged to be classed as handsome but with his wayward, dark curly hair and deep dimples, he definitely had an appeal. From the moment we met it felt as if we were close friends and so the usual politeness of colleagues was quickly dropped. Clearly Phoebe felt the same. Out of character, she took a step forward and offered up her own thin hand.

      Immediately Des whipped his hand away. Stretching his fingers to make a fan, he twisted it on his nose. ‘Na na na-na NA!’

      Phoebe giggled, watching him expectantly.

      Jamie jumped up. ‘Hi, Des.’

      ‘Ah, young man – hello again.’ Des stretched out his hand and Jamie lunged for it, grabbing before he could pull away. As he shook it a loud farting noise filled the room, courtesy of one of the props Des kept in his pockets. Jamie fell about laughing and Phoebe joined in, screeching loudly.

      It was then that the missile came out of nowhere, catching me right in the sensitive area at the side of my head, just above my ear. It hit me with such force that I almost lost my footing and Des lunged forwards, slipping a supportive hand under my arm to steady me. Momentarily dazed, I raised a shaky hand to my head then took in the shards of black plastic covering the floor. Jamie’s Wii remote lay in pieces all over the room, shattered after being thrown by Phoebe.

      She stared at me triumphantly, apparently delighted by how unyielding my skull appeared to be. Still dazed, I couldn’t respond for a moment so I was grateful when Des whisked her away into the kitchen. I could hear him giving her a bit of a lecture as Jamie draped his arm around me. ‘Are you alright, Mum?’

      Bless him, I thought. I could hear the anger in his voice but I was pleased that he was more concerned about me than his broken Wii equipment.

      ‘I’ll be fine. Sorry about your remote, Jamie. We’ll get a new one, OK?’

      ‘She’s so weird, Mum. One minute she’s fine and the next she’s all …’ He made circles against his temples with his forefinger, whistling loudly. ‘Talk about Jekyll and Hyde.’

      Here, Jamie had hit on one of my private suspicions. Phoebe’s tendency for extreme randomness was one of the things I wanted to talk to Desmond about. After vacuuming up the mess, I settled an unrepentant Phoebe in front of a DVD and grabbed two stools from the breakfast bar, positioning them near the threshold of the kitchen so that I could watch her movements carefully but still talk without being overheard.

      ‘So, how’s the head?’

      Gently, I rubbed two fingers over the sore spot. ‘I’ll live,’ I said, grimacing. I could feel a bump forming and knew what a sight I must look, with my unruly hair raked back behind my ears, but I was so at ease in Des’s presence that I really wasn’t too bothered.

      ‘That was a bit left field, wasn’t it? Has she done that before?’

      I shook my head then winced as the pain rebounded around my eardrum. Pincering the top of my nose to try and staunch a looming headache, I said, ‘Well, she’s only chucked china thus far so I guess she’s decided to branch out.’

      Des raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his face. ‘Greek, is she?’

      I slapped his knee. ‘Stop it,’ I chuckled, rising to make us both a cup of tea. After switching on the kettle I turned to face him, leaning back against the worktop. ‘The thing is, these incidents come so out of the blue. There doesn’t seem to be an identifiable trigger – she’s engrossed in something then suddenly she grabs the nearest object and strikes. It’s like Star Wars around here.’

      We both laughed but I quickly grew serious. ‘It does worry me, though, Des. It’s like there’s two different girls in there. One of them is lovely but … well,’ I lifted my hand and tilted it from side to side, ‘when I say lovely, I mean nowhere near as bad as the other one …’ I paused as I handed him his drink, gathering my thoughts. ‘Do you think it’s possible that she is two different people?’ I asked, taking Jamie’s earlier comment at face value. It was a theory I had mulled over as I had lain awake the previous night and now I voiced my fears they seemed ever more likely.

      ‘As in multiple personality disorder, you mean?’

      I nodded. ‘You read my report – the pen incident, the smearing?’

      ‘Yes, disturbing to see in a wee young thing.’ His brow furrowed. ‘But what makes you think …?’

      I described how Phoebe moved rapidly from lucidity to vagueness, with no apparent pattern. He listened with interest, his right hand stroking emerging stubble on his chin. ‘It’s as if every now and then a little alarm goes off in her head signalling her to embark on some nutty escapade. When calm Phoebe returns, I try to talk to her about it but she’s completely blank, as if she can’t even remember behaving so bizarrely.’

      Des let out a long breath. ‘Who knows what we’re dealing with here but I very much doubt it has anything to do with multiple personalities, although it does no harm to consider all possibilities. Any input from CAMHS?’

      I huffed. ‘Phoebe’s social worker doesn’t seem to think that’s necessary.’

      ‘There just doesnae seem to be enough money in the pot to go round these days.’ Des sighed, and frowning, he stared into his cup as if closely examining his tea. ‘It’s lucky she came straight to you, you know. I know it probably doesnae feel like it at the moment but I suspect you’re already making in-roads with her if your past record is anything to go by. I cannae help but think she’d have been a child who got passed around all the carers in the area before finding one experienced enough to help her.’

      We fell silent for a moment. Shamed, I remembered how near I had come to moving her on, only that morning. When I looked up again Des was watching me keenly.

      ‘You wasnae going to carry on with her yourself this morning, was you?’

      ‘How did you know?’

      ‘I could tell by your voice,’ he said softly. ‘I know you better than you know yourself, Rosie Lewis.’

      Becoming aware of the first prickles of a flush, I rose briskly and rifled through the contents of the fridge. I could feel his eyes on my back, reminding me of the time, a couple of years earlier, when Des had made a casual invitation to take me out to dinner. Wary of the impact it might have on Emily and Jamie I refused the offer immediately, sealing any longing I had for companionship out of reach, like the medicines in my cabinet with the childproof locks. There were times when I felt a faint twinge of regret, but at least our friendship wasn’t affected. Des accepted the rejection with characteristic good humour, never mentioning it again. Anyway, he soon met someone else.

      While I cooked, Des spent some time with the children. I could hear him building up to full-theatrical mode and by the time I’d peeled the potatoes he seemed to have taken on the identity of an elderly Russian. ‘Zu two children simply don’t understand how difficult it is for me,’ he whined. ‘All day I spend trekking through ze snow and still I have to cook my own dinner ven I get home. Zu only have to ask my vife. Isn’t zat right, Maria?’

      Jamie and Phoebe could hardly breathe for laughing.

      ‘But, husband,’