I want to be heard.
“I know we’re all here for the same reason: because a little girl has lost her mother. The mother she saw die in front of her eyes. I understand you have to make sure that wherever she goes she will be cared for. I don’t want to leave any of you in doubt about my feelings for Allegra. I love her. It’s that pure and simple. You may want to tell me that love isn’t enough, and I couldn’t agree more. In the clinic where I work we see children who suffer every day, regardless of how much their parents love them. So I can also promise I’ll dedicate myself to bringing her up well, to providing her with a stable home. One where she doesn’t have to wonder whether she’ll get any dinner that night. One where she can feel safe enough to feel sad, feel happy, feel whatever she needs to. Where she can push the boundaries and be pulled back from them.” I take a deep breath, trying to loosen the tightness in my chest. “I want to give her back the right to be a child again.”
When I look at Lara she’s beaming at me, even though her eyes are glistening. There’s silence in the room, and I wait for a response, looking down at the speech I never made. Finally, somebody clears their throat. Grace smiles softly and looks at the rest of the panel.
“Do you have any more questions?”
There are murmurings of no, accompanied by the frantic shaking of heads. I breathe a sigh of relief. It has to be good news, I hope, if they don’t want to question me further.
“Very well, we shall end it there. I believe you’re having a visit from Brighton and Hove children’s services tomorrow?”
“That’s correct.” Rafiya answers for me. Perhaps she’s decided I’ve talked too much.
“Barring any issues arising from that, I can confirm we will be supporting the application for kinship foster placement.”
It takes a moment for it to sink in. Then I realise all eyes are on me, and I glance up to see five expectant faces. But relief turns me mute; I’m unable to say anything that approaches coherence. Instead I nod and concentrate on trying not to cry.
Allegra’s coming home with me. To our home, where I can take care of her and watch her grow. A place where we can go to the beach and breathe in the fresh air and pretend we can see France. Somewhere that Darren Tebbit and guys like him can’t touch her.
She’s coming home.
The next few minutes are a blur. Rafiya talks in hushed tones with Grace, while Lara hugs me and tells me how proud she is. I nod in the right places, holding her close as I try not to get hysterical. When we leave the office Rafiya shakes my hand, explaining she’ll be sending over some paperwork before the visit to Brighton tomorrow. Then she
’s gone and it’s just me and Lara, two giddy women unable to complete a sentence.
“Oh my God, I’m so happy...”
“Thank you so much for being here. I couldn’t have done it...”
We both laugh and try to calm down. Lara takes a deep breath and starts again. “I can’t believe we’re both going to be mums.” I glance down at her stomach and see the small bump rising softly from her belly. “And I can’t believe you’re leaving me. Brighton is so far away.”
“It’s an hour by train,” I say. “You can come and visit as much as you like.” I try not to show it, but that thought is the only disappointment. I’m so used to seeing Lara every day at the clinic, even if it’s only a few minutes, and now our interactions will be by telephone and email. “I promise I’ll be there for the birth.”
“You’d better be. Alex is scared by the sight of blood. I’m half expecting him to run out screaming when the first contraction starts.”
I laugh at the image this conjures up. Alex always seems so cocky and in control. Maybe the baby will soften him a little. “I’ll be there.”
We walk out of the building and a fine mist of rain covers our hair, leaving water clinging to the strands like dew on a cobweb. Lara hugs me for a final time and heads for the Tube, while I lean against the wall and pull my phone out. I need to call Niall, to let him know how it went, before I head back to the home to spend time with Allegra.
A movement to my left catches my eye, making me look up. That’s when I see him. Dark hair turned black by the rain, pasted to his forehead. Droplets run down his cheeks, falling onto his shoulders. Even though he’s soaking I run into his arms, letting him hold me as I tell him everything that’s happened. Niall’s hands tighten around my waist as I tell him she should be coming home in a couple of days.
He presses his face to my hair and breathes in. “You still smell of rain.”
I smile as his words conjure up memories: our first kiss in the rain—drug fuelled, sweet and full of need. Though we are older now—and sober—that need still claws at me, demanding to be fed. So I slowly raise my face until my lips are millimetres away from his. “Do I taste of rain, too?”
His smile is devastating. He drops his head to lightly kiss me, and it feels as though the sun has blasted away the clouds. Because that’s what he does to me. So I kiss him back, tongue sliding softly against his lips, my fists clutching the back of his jacket as if he’s some kind of life raft.
I marvel that once we were so destructive it took me years to get over the cataclysmic results. Yet here we are, holding each other as if we’re in a normal, functional relationship. Regardless of my separation and his unpredictable career and the fact I’m about to foster a child, somehow, for the first time, I actually feel grounded.
He breaks away, his face flushed and glistening with rain. When he pushes my wet hair off my face, his fingers are soft. Little more than a caress. Then he steps back, running his hands through his own soaked hair and says, “Let’s go see our girl.”
The tide is slowly creeping in, the water sneaking farther up the beach with every wave. It’s cautious at first, flowing gently as if it’s trying the new bit of sand out, before running back to join the rest of the sea. Allegra hops the wave as it breaks, letting it chase her up the beach, hair flying behind her as she runs. Any sound she makes is stolen by the springtime breeze, but I can tell by the shapes she forms with her mouth that she’s laughing. It warms me to see her so carefree.
Picking up my thermal cup, I swallow the last of my coffee, before turning my attention to the papers resting on my knee. I have my first lot of exams next week. I’m so scared of failing them that I’m taking every chance I can to revise. Though the degree is only part time, it’s a full-time job trying to fit studying in around my work at a local drop-in centre and looking after Allegra. At this rate it’s going to take me six years to pick up the letters after my name. I don’t mind. I’m just enjoying the learning.
“Can we get a dog?” She’s breathless when she flops down beside me on the blanket. “A really big one, with loads of fur.”
“No.” I reach out and ruffle her hair. I’m getting better at saying the ‘n’ word. At first, after Daisy’s death, I couldn’t bring myself to deny Allegra anything. It’s taken us nine months to get here; to the sort of relationship where I can refuse her and she doesn’t cry. We’re still a work-in-progress.