Four Waifs on Our Doorstep (32 page)

Sometimes I would call Jamie if I was going into town.

‘Do you want to meet for a coffee, Jay?’ He was doing casual work, so he was often free during the day, and he always wanted to know how the other three were getting on. Knowing
Stacey so well, he was as worried as I was.

‘I know she’s been awful to you both, Mum. And you didn’t deserve any of that. But she’s not a hundred per cent bad.’

‘Yes,’ I said nodding. ‘I know. Always the actress!’ I stirred my coffee. ‘Funny girl.’

Jamie gave me a quizzical look.

‘No,’ I assured him. ‘I haven’t forgiven her for what she did. I don’t think I ever could. But she is one of us, one of the family. I’ve heard she is sleeping
rough. I just want to know where she is and how she’s coping.’

He looked down and shuffled his feet, then met my gaze. ‘She’s in Ashbridge, Mum. I saw one of her old friends a couple of weeks ago. She told me Stacey’s having a hard time
and she’s been quite poorly.’

‘Promiscuous?’

‘Yes.’ His shoulders drooped.

‘Drugs?’

‘I think so.’

‘Thank you for being honest with me, Jay. It doesn’t paint a pretty picture, does it?’

‘But she’s tough, Mum. She’ll survive. I’ve been there, and look how I’ve turned my life around.’

‘Yes, but it sounds like she’s fallen lower than you did.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Well, at least now I know where she is, and I know she’s alive. Maybe that will help me sleep a little better tonight.’

But, of course, it didn’t. This news preyed on my mind almost as much as my constant anguish and fury with her for damn near destroying her father. Would either of us ever get beyond
that?

27

A
fter a restless night I woke before dawn with one word shouting in my head: ‘Ashbridge’. That was where Jamie had said Stacey was. And
I knew she was homeless, but where?

This was still going through my head as I parked the car in town that morning and walked up Weston Road. As I approached a hamburger place my gaze froze on a girl sitting on an old coat on the
pavement, with a dog by her side. For one heart-stopping moment, I thought it was Stacey.

Jamie had told me that she was in Ashbridge, not here, and anyway I could see that this girl wasn’t Stacey, but I couldn’t stop staring. It could be her. She might be sitting just
like this in a street in Ashbridge, begging like this girl.

The rest of the day I was mesmerised by this girl’s image, but with Stacey’s face. I couldn’t get her out of my head. I knew what I would have to do.

The following morning, without telling anyone, I went over to Ashbridge, drove around a bit without seeing her, then parked the car, with the idea of just walking the streets,
imagining that I would somehow come across her. As I walked, I remembered someone telling me they thought Stacey might be at the YMCA, so I turned the corner into that street and walked towards
it.

I strained my eyes to see if she might be one of a group of young people smoking outside the front of the building. As soon as I recognised her, she looked in my direction, saw me coming and ran
off, disappearing into the distant crowd. I’d caught only a glimpse of her, but my fears were realised when I saw her pasty face and her startled gaze in that moment when her eyes met
mine.

Right, OK, I thought. She obviously doesn’t want to see me. Or perhaps she daren’t. I’ll leave it. So I went back to the car and set off home again, going over and over those
seconds of recognition and her running away.

Back home again, I just sat and thought . . . and the tears began to flow. Mike and I have always had one another, through thick and thin. Sally and Jane had both had bad starts in their lives,
leaving their birth families within days of their births, but they’ve always had us. And Stacey, even though she was with us all those years, now had nobody.

If Mike had died, with all of this still unresolved between them . . . I took a long breath in. And if I’d died when they thought I had the stroke, there would have been a day when she
would come out of it all and she’d have to live with that guilt. I sobbed uncontrollably. It felt like I was putting a nail in her coffin . . . and I couldn’t do it.

I rang Jamie in the hope that he had a contact number for her. He was wary at first, but he gave it to me and I texted her. I just wanted to know why . . . why she’d done it.

But she didn’t reply.

A few weeks later, I had a phone call from Lawrence, our new solicitor.

‘Katy has sent me all the papers she compiled the first time around and, now that we have some new funding, I’m keen to restart work on the case against Social Services for
you.’

‘What are the chances, do you think?’

‘I’ve read through quite a lot of what Katy sent me and I can already see you’ve got a case. You’ve definitely got a case.’

‘Phew!’ I was so relieved after the rock-bottom disappointment of Katy pulling out because the money had all gone. I still didn’t understand that, but never mind.

‘Have you read Dr Boteral’s report?’ I asked him.

‘Oh my God!’ he exclaimed. ‘Not Dr Boteral!’

‘You’ve heard of her then?’

‘You could say that. I’d better have a look at it I suppose.’

‘Well, I should put a large clove of garlic with that one.’

He laughed. ‘Really, that bad?’

‘She was awful. Confrontational to all the kids and especially hard on me.’

‘So they didn’t want to cooperate?’

‘Did they hell? They were all in floods of tears and frustration by the time we left to go home. It was appalling.’

‘Right. Well, we won’t be using it. I want a fresh start, and we’ll commission our own report. I want to specify the focus we need for the case, and I know just the right man
for that, Dr Robson. He’s a much more sympathetic character. I reckon you’ll all get on fine with him.’

‘Well, anybody has got to be better with children than that harridan!’

‘Next,’ he changed the subject, ‘I need to see and speak to all of the children, to introduce myself, explain what will happen and ask them a few questions. Do you think that
would be all right?’

‘I’ll check with them,’ I said. ‘Carrie and Sam still live at home. Jamie is in a place of his own, but I can talk to him. I’m sure it will be fine with all of
them, once they realise it’s not a Dr Boteral situation. Except maybe Stacey, because she’s had a rift with the family and I’m not sure she will cooperate.’

‘Well, I will need to include all of them.’

‘I can give you Jamie’s contact details if you like.’

‘Thanks. I’ll contact him direct,’ said Lawrence. ‘What about Stacey?’

I drew breath between my teeth. Then gave him a brief rundown on Stacey’s allegation and its repercussions.

‘I see,’ he said. ‘That must have been very difficult for you all.’

‘Very difficult,’ I agreed. ‘It still is.’

‘Do you have her contact details?’

‘Just her phone number, if she still has it. But I think Jamie might be able to help you with that.’

I texted Jamie later that day and he texted me back an email address for Stacey. He said she’d lost her phone and that was all he had.

Being dyslexic, I’m not a great one for emails, so I waited a few days, till I was in the mood, then took a deep breath and gave it a try. I typed in her email address and checked it
carefully. That bit was fine, but now the difficult part – what to write?

I clicked the send button and waited . . . Five days later, Stacey replied. I opened it with trepidation.

I scoured it through. Not a mention of an apology for the allegation. But I was very relieved that things seemed to be going better for her now, though it didn’t quite
match what I’d heard from other people.

I wrote back straight away, only minutes after she had sent her email to me.

I wasn’t surprised she didn’t reply straight away. I had worded my email carefully and it must have struck home. Eleven days later, Stacey sent her reply.

Sad as it made me, and angry too, there wasn’t anything else to be said after that. I couldn’t forgive her for what she did to Mike. He was deeply scarred by her
allegation and it was all still so raw. I couldn’t have her in the house. I couldn’t. It had deeply wounded me too, but there was still a hidden part of me that couldn’t stop
loving her.