‘What?’ I gasp.
George’s jaw drops.
‘He said he’d put me back in boarding school,’ Theo reveals, letting out a small laugh.
‘What? No!’
He smiles miserably. ‘Can you believe it? After swearing he’d never pay another penny towards my education, as soon as I seem remotely happy, he threatens to send me away again. He really is an arse.’
I can imagine his dad coming to this decision. There are far too many prejudiced parents in the world who worry that their precious offspring might be in danger by mingling with a child who’s in the care system.
‘What will you do?’ I feel nauseous.
‘Sod him,’ he replies with a shrug. ‘He’s away half the time anyway, and Bart has my back. Dad’ll never know.’
Still, the thought of losing him has me reeling. I’m so fond of George and Theo. They’ve had such different upbringings, but they have many things in common: both lost their mothers prematurely, and both have fathers who are indifferent to them. George’s father isn’t there for him at all; Theo’s father wants to control him. George has lost Sophie; Theo has no relationship with Acton. Neither have parents who love them unconditionally.
My parents might not be there for me as much as I’d like them to be, but at least I feel loved by them.
* * *
Ever since Jamie came to live with us, it’s been a family tradition to go to Lightwater Valley, the local theme park, on the first day of the summer holidays. It’s something he and I look forward to months in advance, and our enthusiasm rubs off on everyone else in the house. In previous years we’ve all flown out of the car, laughing as we’ve hurtled towards the nearest rollercoaster.
For weeks, Joanne has been saying it’s the only thing that will cheer her up, and even Ashlee, who has no idea what a theme park is, has been shouting ‘Yay!’ whenever Lightwater Valley has been mentioned.
I wanted to ask Mum and Dad if Theo could come with us, but there’s not enough room in the car. He’s spent so much time at our house recently that Dad has joked he’ll have to kick Jamie out so Theo can move in. Jamie knows he doesn’t mean it. My parents always offer to give Theo a lift home and he usually takes them up on it. While it’s not their place to get involved in the affairs of other families – at least, unofficially – I sense they feel as protective of Theo as they do of some of the teenagers who have come to live with us.
So far, Theo has managed to pull the wool over his dad’s eyes – he got to see out the school term with us, in any case – but I’m scared that it’s only a matter of time before his dad finds out he’s been disobeying him.
* * *
I should be feeling happy and relieved on the morning of our excursion – school has broken up and I’m free for the summer – but this year, everything has a dark cloud hanging over it.
Becky is now going out with Martin and is so deep in his pockets that we’ve barely spoken at lunchtimes, let alone seen each other outside of school. I’m sure she bears a grudge against me for being emotionally unavailable to her, but it goes both ways.
Ashlee and Nia are leaving us in a few days and Joanne has been really struggling, Jamie is fretting because he thinks he messed up a couple of his exams and won’t get into veterinary college, and my parents are wrapped up in comforting them both while trying to hold it together emotionally themselves.
As for George… George is just… quiet. Ever since going to see Sophie a month ago, he’s retreated into himself. I’m worried about him, but when I ask if he’s okay, he repeats that he’s fine.
In the car on the way there, Jamie makes it his mission to pep us all up. ‘Come on, you lot. This is our last outing together as a family of eight – let’s make it a day that even a three-year-old might remember.’ He nods at Ashlee. ‘You got your camera, Carrie?’ he calls up to Mum in the front.
‘Sure have!’ Mum chirps back.
‘Let’s fill up those Life Story books, lads and lasses! Lightwater Valley! Yeah!’ he cheers, fist-pumping the air.
‘Lightwater Valley!’ Joanne echoes, to everyone’s surprise.
‘Yay!’ Ashlee shouts back with glee, clapping.
And that’s the way we play it. All of us get on board. I’ve never seen Joanne laugh and smile so much in her life. It might be an act to begin with, but soon our enthusiasm becomes real. We manage to temporarily suspend our fear and sorrow to try to make it the best possible day for the little ones. Mum and Dad stay with Ashlee and Nia the entire time, but Jamie, Joanne, George and I alternate riding the big kid rollercoasters and taking them on the baby rides. None of us want to miss out on Ashlee’s adorably infectious giggles.
George and I ride our last rollercoaster of the day together – it was the longest rollercoaster in the world, when it was built – and seeing him look across at me, laughing with abandon as I scream, makes my stomach flip even as it bottoms out. I’m giddy with affection for him and when the ride ends, I do something uncharacteristic: I turn and step up against his chest. It’s not a hug – our arms are at our sides – but we’re flush to each other and my forehead is resting on his shoulder. After a moment, he lays his cheek against the top of my head.
It feels natural for all of three seconds, and then my heart begins to race. He smells clean and lovely and I know I need to put distance between us. But it’s so, so hard.
Just as I’m about to wrench myself away, George’s arms slip around my waist. Wild horses couldn’t stop me from wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him tightly in return.
I’m pretty sure I’m in love with this boy.
It’s the sound of Jamie calling our names that jerks us apart, but we sit next to each other in the car on the way home, and I’m incapable of speech. I feel as though I’ve been plugged into a socket – my blood is charged and I’m fizzing with electricity. I can’t think about anything except for the feeling of George’s leg pressed against mine.
* * *
Two days later, reality hits. And what a heavyweight punch in the guts it is.
Saying goodbye to Ashlee and Nia is one of the worst things I have ever had to do.
It’s different with teenagers. Teenagers, you know, will remember you. Even though it hurts, even though it’s painful to no longer see them at the breakfast table or on the bus to school, there’s every chance that you’ll hear from them again from time to time.
But with Ashlee and Nia, this could well be it. Their adoptive parents have no obligation to keep in touch with us. In fact, they probably won’t. Ashlee and Nia have formed such a strong bond with my parents – especially my mum – that for them to see her, or any of us again anytime soon, may only confuse them. It will be hard, these next few weeks and months. Everything in their young lives is changing, and while Anita and Ollie will no doubt shower them with love and attention, there will be times when they’ll miss my mum acutely.
I know it’s this that distresses Mum more than anything else: the thought of Ashlee or Nia crying out for her in the night and her not being there.
Although she’s smiling brightly as she hugs first Nia and then Ashlee goodbye, her whole body is trembling with emotion. I feel hollow inside, as though someone has carved a huge chunk out of my heart. It was hard enough holding Ashlee’s small body to mine for the last time, but seeing Mum like this upsets me on a different level.