Finding Stevie: Part 3 of 3: A teenager in crisis. Cathy Glass

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       Copyright

      Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.

      HarperElement

      An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

      1 London Bridge Street

      London SE1 9GF

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published by HarperElement 2019

      FIRST EDITION

      Text © Cathy Glass 2019

      Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

      Cover photograph © Mark Owen/Trevillion 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

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

      Find out about HarperCollins and the environment at

       www.harpercollins.co.uk/green

      Source ISBN: 9780008324292

      Ebook Edition © February 2019 ISBN: 9780008324346

      Version: 2019-01-10

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Chapter Twenty: A Dreadful Mistake

       Chapter Twenty-One: Waiting for News

       Chapter Twenty-Two: Angry and Upset

       Chapter Twenty-Three: Prosecute

       Chapter Twenty-Four: Lost

       Chapter Twenty-Five: Life’s Not Worth Living

       Chapter Twenty-Six: The Letter

       Chapter Twenty-Seven: Moving On

       Chapter Twenty-Eight: Proud

       Suggested topics for reading-group discussion

       Cathy Glass

       If you loved this book …

       Moving Memoirs eNewsletter

       Praise for Cathy Glass

       About the Publisher

      Chapter Twenty

       A Dreadful Mistake

      I checked on Stevie after everyone had left his review. He was in his bedroom, more angry than upset. There wasn’t much I could say to him about Fred beyond what I’d already said – that he loved him, but he didn’t think before he spoke. Stevie knew his grandfather far better than I did. Having made sure Stevie was OK, I told him not to sit alone brooding and to come down when he was ready. He didn’t come down until I called everyone for dinner. He was very subdued at the table, didn’t contribute to the conversation and just shrugged when Lucy asked him how his review had gone.

      After dinner, as we were clearing away the dishes, I suggested to him again that he might like to invite a couple of his friends back from his class at the weekend, or go out with them – bowling, swimming, cinema or similar. Some months ago he’d mentioned he had two good friends in his class and I thought he needed to socialise, which would give him something to think about other than the police investigation. I did see the irony in what I was doing – trying to persuade Stevie to go out. When he’d first arrived, going out, staying out and ignoring his grandparents’ boundaries had been an issue, but now he wasn’t going out socially at all. He didn’t seem keen on my idea, but agreed to think about it, then spent the rest of the evening in his room. I kept a close eye on him, for while Stevie maintained he didn’t need to see a counsellor or doctor, I was worried his anxiety was building, which could spiral into a deep depression or worse. I think it is easy for teenagers to allow problems to escalate and dominate their thoughts so they can’t see a way forward. But there is always a way forward, hope and a solution, whatever the problem, which is why I wrote Happy Adults.

      It was no great surprise that once Peggy had put Kiri and Liam to bed that night, she telephoned me. I took the call in the living room where – not unusually – I was alone.

      ‘Fred

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