Honestly, if my parents had an inkling of how I was starting to feel about Jonah King, he’d be out of here first thing in the morning. But when I thought about how much his siblings would miss having him nearby, I resolved to not allow a tiny, weird, sure-to-be-unrequited crush cause these children yet more suffering. He’d become like a brother soon enough, and any trace of feelings would fizzle out until even the idea of liking him that way felt disgusting.
‘If there’s nowhere else, then I think he should stay here,’ I said, keeping my voice as level as possible. ‘For Ellis and Billy’s sake.’
Nicky gave me a swift, sidelong glance before focussing her attention back on her plait.
‘Are you sure?’ Dad asked. ‘There’s nothing you want to discuss first? More rumours you’ve heard about, or other issues?’
‘Maybe rather than the girls speculating, we should fill them in before we make a final decision?’ Mum suggested. ‘You know we can’t tell you everything, but it might be helpful to share the bare bones, so you’re aware of how it might impact us as a family.’
And so, I got to hear the short version of Jonah King’s story. The kind of information that half my year would gorge on like a dessert buffet. That, when it is a young person living in your house rather than the misfit kid at school, pierces you right between the ribs, making it almost impossible not to want to give them the kind of home they never had.
Jonah’s story was similar to ones we’d heard many times before. A mother with mental health issues, scraping by on benefits, an uninterested dad and an extended family who didn’t care. She’d muddled through until Jonah was nine, when she’d become embroiled with a violent man who got her pregnant. Another man soon replaced him, and a year after Ellis was born, she was pregnant again. Over the next few years Jonah and his siblings endured a nightmare roller coaster of abuse and neglect as various other men came and went, none of whom were interested in three children.
A week ago, instead of aiming at Jonah or his mother, her latest boyfriend left the imprint of an army boot on her daughter’s semi-emaciated back.
When their mother ran in the kitchen and found Jonah wrestling with her lover on the filthy linoleum, she called the police.
Jonah was not the one carted off in handcuffs that day, despite his mother’s protests.
And now, here we were, a random, ordinary little family in Bigley Bottom, having been offered the potential to change his whole life.
Mum blotted her eyes, gave each of us a grateful hug and called the social worker.
10
NOW
On Thursday evenings we expected around twelve Bloomers and their birth partners for an antenatal class. Numbers were fewer than Mondays because some didn’t want to come if there were males present and others weren’t interested if there was no food or ‘fun time’.
The birth partners were about an even split between family or foster carers and the babies’ dads. It was my most challenging session of the week but, when it went well, by far my most rewarding. I got my kids into bed, set up the intercom in case they needed me, and was reading a message from Mary at the Green House letting me know she’d be dropping off Petra when the first couple arrived.
‘Hi, you must be Ellis!’ I heard Nicky greet them, offering the usual introductory spiel as she showed them to a seat.
I glanced up to see a tall young woman wearing a sleeveless top and oversized jogging bottoms. Apart from her tiny, football bump she was painfully thin, with jutting cheekbones and mousy hair, worn in a shaggy chop, brushing her shoulders. She had multiple piercings on her face and badly drawn reptiles tattooed across her arms and chest. Her expression was sullen,dull eyes wary, and her body language that of an animal torn between whether to play dead or run.
Which was how most of our Bloomers looked on their first session, so I was confident she’d fit right in.
But then she moved to the side, and everything inside me stuttered to a stop.
I hadn’t recognised the nineteen-year-old version of the little waif who’d visited our house to play board games and draw pictures with her big brother.
But I’d never mistake the man who stood beside her.
Jonah.
The form had been filled in with the name Joe Green. It went without saying that I’d checked.
His amber eyes scanned the room before quickly swivelling back to rest on me.
It was fair to say that the shock was mutual.
For an endless moment everything else – Nicky, Ellis, the other people now arriving, the rest of the room – faded into nothing.
My heart must have resumed beating because I could hear it pounding like an industrial engine.
We stood there, for who knew how long, staring at each other.
I wished that I’d had time to wash my hair that morning, rather than twisting it into a messy bun. My outfit was a pair of wide-legged jeans and a navy T-shirt.
