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Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.
HarperElement
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First published by HarperElement 2018
FIRST EDITION
Text © Cathy Glass 2018
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Cover photograph © Kristina Dominianni/Arcangel Images (posed by a model)
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780008305468
Ebook Edition © August 2018 ISBN: 9780008305505
Version 2018-07-31
Contents
Chapter Thirteen: Heartbreaking
Chapter Fourteen: Precious Freedom
Chapter Fifteen: Staying Positive
Chapter Sixteen: Amanda – a Mother
Chapter Seventeen: Not Thursday
Chapter Eighteen: Developments
Chapter Nineteen: Caught His Plane
Chapter Eleven
We made the most of the snow while it lasted: after breakfast on Saturday we all went tobogganing in a nearby park, then in the afternoon we made a snowman in the garden and had a snowball fight. But as often happens in England after a snowfall, the thaw quickly set in. On Sunday the garden began to reappear, revealing a few brave crocus flowers that had survived the impact of the snow. By Monday there was just a slushy mess, although Melody’s snow angel was the last to melt. This wasn’t wholly surprising, as the snow had been compacted by Melody lying on it, and it was in a shaded part of the garden. But for Melody it was a sign her mother was close by and thinking of her; I agreed she was.
I took Melody to school as normal on Monday morning, but my day was very short, as I had to return to the school for 2.30 for her first review. Dressed smartly in what my children refer to as my office outfit – navy skirt, blouse and jacket – I arrived for the review in plenty of time and signed the Visitors’ Book. One of the secretaries showed me to the Headmistress’s room where I’d gone when I’d first brought Melody into school, and it was now being used for the meeting. Jill and a man I hadn’t met before were already seated in the two armchairs. Extra chairs had been brought in and placed either side of the sofa and armchairs to form a circle. Jill smiled, said hello and introduced the man as the Independent Reviewing Officer (IRO), who would chair and minute the meeting. IROs are qualified social workers with extra training, but they are not connected with the social services. Having said hello, I gave him the review forms Melody and I had completed and sat next to Jill.
Almost immediately the door opened and Miss May and Mrs Farnham, the Deputy Head, came in. They said a general hello and sat down, Miss May in the chair to my left. ‘Melody is with her class now,’ she said to me. ‘I’ll bring her up later.’
‘Is that all right with you?’ Mrs Farnham asked the IRO, checking procedure.
‘Yes. I think at her age she can come into her review towards the end when we’ve finished talking.’
The door opened again and Nina, the Guardian, came in. She said, ‘Good afternoon,’ then crossed to the two-seater sofa that had remained empty. ‘Am I all right to sit here? You’re not saving it for anyone?’
‘No, not at all,’ the IRO said.
Neave now entered with a young man I guessed to be in his mid-twenties. She said hello and he smiled a little self-consciously – I wondered if he
