a few minutes, they crossed over Sedgefield High Street and slipped down a side road crowded with redbrick terraced houses, one of which was where they lived with Rachel’s mum. It had tiny gardens front and back which were pretty enough but offered little appeal to a child growing up – Rachel could testify to that. She wanted more for Hope; a family home with large rooms and a garden big enough for a little girl to roam free. But after her daughter’s recent encounter with the man who could provide that perfect life, Rachel was only too aware that those dreams weren’t yet within touching distance.
Standing at the garden gate, Rachel brought her thoughts back to the realities of the present. ‘Did anything else happen today? Anything that Mrs Carnegie might want you to talk to me about?’ She swept a hand over her little girl’s glossy brown hair before cupping her chin and turning her face upwards. ‘What happened, sweetheart?’
‘We were colouring in numbers and there were no green crayons on our table. The Red Table were using them all and they wouldn’t share.’
‘And?’
‘I tried to tell them that I needed it for my number eight but they still wouldn’t let me have one,’ Hope said. ‘And then Mrs Carnegie said I didn’t have to use green!’ Hope’s chin pushed against Rachel’s hand as she tried to lower her head, only managing to lower her voice. ‘I don’t think she knows what she’s talking about.’
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