Torn: A terrified girl. A shocking secret. A terrible choice.. Rosie Lewis

was a pause, Karron examining her plump hands as if searching for an answer among the network of veins. ‘I’m tempted to tell you to grab her hand and drag her out but, heck, you’d get into a whole heap of trouble if you did that. You Brits are just so uptight.’

      I laughed out loud. ‘You’re right there. So, what can I do?’

      Karron lifted her hands, palms upward. ‘When it comes to kids, there’s one universal truth: they think the world revolves around them. I swear to God, I’ve known the most stubborn kids willing to move mountains for a few extra dollars in their pocket money. That’s the only thing I can think of – tempting her away with something she badly wants. Have you spoken to her social worker about it?’

      ‘Maisie? Yes, I called her yesterday but she wasn’t – well, she’s a bit – she wasn’t much help, to be honest.’

      ‘A bit what?’

      I chewed my lip. ‘Erm, a bit, you know …’

      The social worker shook her head.

      ‘A bit airy-fairy.’

      Karron slapped her hand down on the worktop. ‘Airy-fairy?! W-hat the hell does that mean?’

      ‘Um. A bit too far left of liberal. You know what I mean don’t you? Away with the fairies.’

      She was still looking bemused. ‘You mean she’s crap at her job?’

      My jaw dropped. ‘No, no, I’m not saying that at all. I’m sure she’s very nice. I don’t know her that well anyway and –’

      ‘Jeeez, you lot are hard work,’ said Karron, shaking her head and laughing. ‘You’re all just so polite. I love England, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes you just gotta let go, you know?’

      Behind Karron, I could see Jamie craning his head, trying to keep track of our conversation.

      I nodded, suppressing a grin.

      ‘In the States we’re not afraid to use commands. Sure, we call them instructions, but that’s just splitting hairs. It’s all the same damn thing. We’re a lot tougher on parents too, back home. If we remove a child, the parents have a year to get themselves together or they’re out of the picture. And they have to do it of their own free will; we don’t have all the help and programmes you have here. The Brits treat everyone with kid gloves, but sometimes folks just need telling, you know? So they know what’s expected. If they fall short, well, that’s their own damn fault. You can be as polite as you wanna be but kids need to understand that your requests ain’t optional.’

      ‘I have tried that, Karron. I can be firm when I want to be.’

      She raised her eyebrows as if she found that idea difficult to imagine.

      ‘I can, really. But when you’re dealing with someone who doesn’t seem to give a hoot, the usual rules fly out of the window. In terms of discipline, my hands are tied – I can’t limit her pocket money or send her to her room. What can I do?’

      Karron frowned. ‘Hmm, I’ve got a feeling that there’s a refresher course coming up with all the latest techniques for managing difficult behaviour. I’ll give them a call and book you in, that OK?’

      I nodded, feeling lighter somehow. When social workers are judgemental, foster carers clam up and, in the end, everyone suffers. It was refreshing to be able to sit with a professional and talk in a leisured, conversational way about the problems I was experiencing. ‘Great,’ said Karron, lowering her empty mug to the worktop. Then, as she gathered up her diary and handbag, she asked something that secured her position as one of the best social workers I had ever known, aside from Des. ‘So, how are your two coping with all of this?’

      I took a breath. ‘Fairly well. I mean, Jamie and Reece hit it off straight away; it’s like they’re already best buddies. And over the last day or two Emily and Taylor have been spending more time together. They both love art so they’ve been colouring and making beaded bracelets.’

      Karron tilted her head. ‘But?’

      I took a breath, raised my eyes to the ceiling. ‘Taylor and Jamie,’ I sliced my hand through the air, whispering so that Jamie couldn’t hear. ‘Not so good. Every time Jamie speaks Taylor rolls her eyes or makes some comment. It’s difficult to watch.’

      Karron nodded, bit her lip. ‘I’ll get you booked onto that course. You might find it helps a bit, though sometimes it’s just a case of gritting your teeth and getting through the ugly bit.’

      I gave her a grim smile and she patted my arm. ‘Right, if that’s all,’ she turned to walk away and then spun around. ‘Oh, wait up, I’ve gotta tell you, there’s been a complaint.’

      I grimaced, wondering why she hadn’t mentioned it before. ‘Oh no! What?’

      ‘Take it easy, Rosie. It’s no big deal. The older one, what’s her name again?’

      ‘Taylor?’

      ‘Yeah, right. She’s told her mum that she’s not allowed to watch TV.’

      I blew out a frustrated lungful of air. ‘That’s not true! All I said was we’re not leaving it on all the time.’

      ‘Fair enough,’ Karron shrugged. ‘Anyway, Mum’s complained to the local authority and the social worker, Millie, did you say?’

      I shook my head. ‘Maisie.’

      Karron poked the air with her forefinger. ‘Yep. She got on to me. Asked me to offer you some words of advice.’

      I pressed my lips together. ‘So what now?’

      Karron shrugged. ‘If she complains again, tell her to read a book. And take that worried look off your face! You’re doing just fine.’

      As she walked through the living room she lifted her hand towards Jamie. He waved back, watching her avidly. ‘You take care, little guy. I’ll be seeing y’all soon.’

      She was gone by the time the thought occurred to me – when did Taylor get a chance to speak to her mum?

      Back in the living room, Jamie looked appalled. ‘She’s been complaining about us,’ he said, his eyes glistening with angry tears.

      ‘Not us exactly,’ I said, mildly, perching on the edge of the sofa beside him. ‘She’s just upset about having to leave her parents and she’s looking for ways to let all the bad stuff out.’ I stroked his fringe back from his forehead. ‘It’s scary, coming into foster care.’

      Absorbing what I’d said, his eyes flickered and then his expression softened. ‘Yeah, I suppose, but –’ he gave me a sideways glance then looked away, picking at the bobbles on the blanket covering his knees, ‘– I don’t really like her much. Taylor.’ After a moment he looked up, assessing my reaction.

      I grabbed his hand. ‘I know it’s been difficult, honey, but things will improve.’ As I spoke, I was aware of the lack of conviction in my own voice.

      ‘How long’s she staying?’

      ‘I have no idea yet,’ I said, guilt tightening my chest so that my voice sounded strained. I cleared my throat. ‘But we’ll do lots of nice things over the next two weeks, OK? I’m sure that will help everything to settle. By the time you go back to school you’ll be feeling differently, you just wait and see.’

      Still at the age when parents seemed to know everything, he brightened, wrapping his arms around my neck for a hug. ‘So, what did you think of our new supervising social worker?’ I asked, pulling back.

      ‘She’s so cool!’ he said. ‘Why does she talk like that?’

      ‘She’s American.’

      His eyes widened. ‘Des is in America. Do you think she’s met him?’

      I smiled, giving his cheek