LITMIR.BIZ

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I asked, after pointing it out.

      ‘No, it’s fine, Casey,’ he assured me. ‘I only need it once for round the house, then I can trail to navigate.’

      ‘Tail?’ I asked. ‘That sounds like something the FBI might do.’

      Both Kieron and Cameron laughed then. Again. ‘He said “trail”, Mum, not “tail”,’ Kieron corrected me.

      Cameron grinned. ‘I’ll show you,’ he said, walking into the front room and crossing it without hesitation, simply using the back of his hand against the wall, slightly in front of him. Again, I could see he was making constant calculations, having presumably already made a mental map. ‘See?’ he said. ‘Simple! No cane required.’

      Kieron looked at his phone again, this time to check the time. ‘And I need to crack on,’ he said. ‘Bob – walkies!’

      Bob duly left his basket in the kitchen and trotted in, tail wagging.

      ‘Have you ever had a guide dog?’ I asked Cameron, as Kieron went to fetch Bob’s lead.

      ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’d love a dog, but it would be too much for my grandparents.’

      ‘Want to come with me to walk Bob, then?’ Kieron asked, coming back in.

      ‘Erm, I’m not sure that’s …’ I began.

      ‘No, it’s fine,’ Cameron said. ‘I’d really like that. If it’s all right with you, Casey,’ he said politely.

      Still I hesitated. I was in loco parentis, after all. Was he safe outside without me? Was he normally allowed out on his own? But Kieron – nineteen, and a responsible adult – pulled a face at me.

      ‘Mum, we’ll only be walking to the end of the road and back!’ he pointed out. ‘What’s gonna happen?’

      So I went and fetched the cane after all.

      The first afternoon and evening went like a dream. Used to dealing with the sort of challenging kids that tested you every step of the way, I enjoyed every moment of getting to know Cameron, and ‘looking after him’ seemed a contradiction in terms.

      With the whole ‘sensory experiences’ thing very much in mind, I took him to a local park once Kieron had gone, one that had a big and popular petting zoo. And it was a good choice; Cameron loved petting the goats and alpacas and everywhere we went people were just so nice to him. We then went for ice creams and visited the zoo shop, where I helped him pick out a postcard for his grandmother.

      ‘I always get her postcards from wherever I’ve been,’ he said. She’s not very mobile any more but loves to be able to see what I’ve been up to. She has quite a collection these days!’

      Talking further, it transpired that Cameron got about quite a bit. Though he lived happily at home with his grandparents, his single mum having died in an accident when he was very little, they had worked hard to provide him with a normal active childhood, supported by his school and a variety of organisations which could introduce him to the wider world. For all his lack of street-awareness – which was a big change from the kids I usually fostered – he had a wise and mature head on his young shoulders.

      And I was anxious to make sure he had a fun time while he was with us. So when another glance at his file told me the things he most liked doing, I was determined that we’d do one of them, too.

      ‘Bowling?’ Mike said, as he was putting on his jacket for work the following morning, and I was giving him the run-down on what I’d planned. I’d already told him I thought we should take Cameron out somewhere together before he left us, and that he was to try his very best to get away from work early.

      ‘Yes, bowling,’ I repeated. ‘He’s rather good at it apparently.’

      ‘But how can he bowl a bowling ball? It just sounds so dangerous!’

      ‘Well, you’ll soon find out, won’t you?’ I said to him, laughing. ‘Now remember. Home by four, and no excuses!’

      He shook his head as he headed out of the door. ‘Bowling?’ I heard him muttering to himself. ‘Bowling?’

      Truth was that I had no idea how he did it either. I only knew that it was a good plan. Cameron was thrilled to hear what we’d be doing and promised me that he was super-good at it and would embarrass us with his skill for sure. I had no doubt he would, at least as far as I was concerned, because I was rubbish. In fact, I had never understood the thrill of picking up a heavy ball, inserting your fingers into holes where someone else’s grubby mitts had been, and then chucking it at a load of pins. Still, it would be fun for Cameron and that was what it was all about. Taking his mind off his sick gran for a bit.

      And of course, Cameron had been telling the truth. Eschewing the frame the visually impaired would normally use, he really could seem to ‘feel’ his way to a strike, and duly kicked our butts. Particularly mine, and I was left astounded at how I – equipped with full vision – could be so roundly thrashed by a boy with hardly any. And worse than that, everyone knew it, the bowling alley having thoughtfully employed a system that rang out a loud noise every time a ball hit the gutter, which almost all of mine did.

      But perhaps I was becoming too used to being amazed by Cameron’s abilities, because what happened straight afterwards I didn’t see coming.

      We were just gathering our stuff, ready to go and grab some dinner, when my attention was diverted by Cameron leaving our booth with his coke can. My gaze followed him, but only in a vague ‘Where’s he off to?’ way when, to my horror, I then saw him casually lob the can at the man sitting reading a newspaper just behind the next booth. Worse than that, even, was that the can wasn’t quite empty, and I watched with dismay as a stream of coke shot from the can and fell like sticky rain all down the man’s shirt.

      ‘Oi!’ he said, rising and brushing down his shirt simultaneously. ‘Oi! What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’

      By this time, Cameron had already turned around and was walking back to us, seemingly oblivious to what he had just done. But no longer. The man’s voice positively boomed across the lane.

      I watched Cameron’s face fall. ‘Oh, no!’ he said, obviously realising what must have happened. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ he added, turning back towards the man. ‘I had no idea. I thought you were the bin!’

      The man threw down the newspaper he had in his other hand and marched up to Cameron, his face reddening in anger. He grabbed Cameron’s arm. ‘Oh, so you’re a joker as well, are you, you little git?’

      Mike was suddenly there then, a reassuring presence. At six foot three, and given the expression on the man’s face, a very reassuring presence. Because he really looked like he was ready to punch Cameron.

      ‘Hey there,’ Mike said evenly. ‘Calm down, mate, okay? Whatever happened, it was obviously an accident.’

      ‘Accident?’ the man said. ‘This moron just threw a coke can at me!’

      ‘It was an accident!’ Cameron added quickly. His head was bobbing about and I could see he wasn’t sure where to rest his gaze now, as Mike and the man must be blurring together. ‘I’m really sorry. But I really did think you were the bin, honest. The way you were sitting, and …’

      ‘The way I was sitting?’ the man blustered. ‘Oh, that’s rich, that is, you little sh–’

      ‘Hey,’ said Mike again, positioning himself between both of them. ‘Calm down, will you, mate? He’s blind. Can’t you see that?’

      The man was so worked up that it took a couple of seconds for him to register, but when the penny dropped it really did drop. I finally allowed myself to unclench my hands and breathe out.

      ‘Oh,’ the man muttered, the fight slowly draining out of him, as he realised his mistake. But not completely. He still had a look of aggression about him. And he clearly had a

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