Crying for Help Read Free

complication of the Addison’s – well, you can see how easily a child with that sort of issue can become manipulative if allowed to.’
    ‘I get it,’ I said. ‘She needs some boundaries, then?’
    ‘I think that’s about the size of it. So it’s right up your street. No points, as I say, as this really is just temporary, but just do what the two of you do so well. And don’t let your heads swell, because I shouldn’t tell you this, but it was my boss who suggested we place her with you. He said, “If anyone can turn her around, the Watson family can. After all, look how well they did with Justin.”’
    ‘That’s nice,’ said Mike, though I could tell by his voice that he knew he was being sweet-talked.
    ‘And just as well I cracked on and got the room ready, then,’ I added. ‘Why don’t you take John up to see it, love, while I put the kettle on again.’
    My head was whirring while they went up to admire my creative efforts. The poor child. How tragic. To lose her mum – to lose all she had in the world – and to have to cope with what sounded like such a debilitating condition on her own. I wondered if she ever got to see her mother in hospital at all, and when John and Mike came back downstairs I asked.
    ‘Yes, she does,’ John said. ‘Every six weeks or so, for an hour. Not that she gets anything out of it. She apparently gets really upset after each visit, which is why she doesn’t go there more often.’
    ‘Poor kid,’ I said. ‘It must be awful.’
    ‘The world we live in, I’m afraid, Casey,’ he said. ‘Hey, but a great job on the bedroom. Fit for a princess! Oh, and be prepared, because it’ll seem like she really is a little princess. She has quite an entourage, this one, in terms of a team. So you’ll need plenty of cups at the ready …’
     
     
    When John had gone, Mike and I retreated to the living room, where we sat and talked about what was to come. A pointless exercise really, though one which we’d go on to repeat many times. You could never second-guess the future, particularly in our line of work.
    ‘See, though,’ I said. ‘It was worth me getting all that decorating done, wasn’t it? I’m like a walking girl guide motto. Be prepared!’
    I said it in jest, but little did I know. Those prickles of mine didn’t happen for nothing. Because nothing could have prepared us for Sophia.

Chapter 2
     
    Monday morning arrived, and with it a fresh flurry of snow. Which made me groan because I’d just finished painstakingly polishing my wooden floors and now they were going to be trodden all over by soggy footwear.
    ‘Do you think I should ask everyone to take their shoes off?’ I asked Mike.
    He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t, love. It’ll only take a quick mop once they’re gone.’
    ‘A quick mop!’ I railed at him. ‘As if! I’ve spent all bloody morning polishing these floors – and by hand! You should try it some time. It’s –’
    ‘Hey!’ he snapped. ‘Calm down! Stop flapping – the floor’s fine. As is the rest of the house!’ His expression softened then, if just a little. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ll help you do the mopping, okay? And I’m trying to be helpful. So don’t take your nerves out on me.’
    He stomped off to the conservatory, and I felt a bit bad. I just wanted to make a good impression – I always did. And a spotless house seemed a good way to do that. It was probably my mother’s fault, this obsession, I decided. We were Catholics, and when we were kids she was just the same as I was now – on account of the parish priest and the nuns forever calling round and, more often than not, doing so unexpectedly. She’d always be in a complete tizzy, so, just to be sure, she’d scrub the house from top to bottom every day.
    But there was no time to dwell on the fate that might befall my wooden flooring, because just as I was finishing giving it a last careful scrutiny I could see a car – no, three cars – pulling up