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hopeful. Seeing her mum could – would – surely work wonders.

      It hadn’t. I could tell that the very moment I saw Sophie’s expression. And then again, more clearly, as they came up the path, and Bella, her face tear stained, gave me a wan look by way of greeting and headed straight up to her bedroom.

      I could also tell by the look of defeat on Sophie’s face.

      ‘Not good then?’ I asked quietly as I ushered her into the living room.

      ‘Not quite what we expected,’ she said, shaking her head. I asked her if she wanted a coffee and she nodded, slipping her coat from her shoulders. ‘It was all just a bit weird, to be honest,’ she said. Here,’ she added, as I turned to head into the kitchen to get the drinks for us, ‘let me come with you and help you, so we can chat.’

      She followed me into the kitchen, drawing the door almost closed behind her. ‘Casey, it was so weird,’ she said again. ‘They were both so uncomfortable. You know, seriously odd together, and not just the usual stiffness because you’ve got this great fat social worker stomping all over your privacy –’ she said, grimacing. ‘You know what it’s like … But weird with each other. Like they couldn’t find a single thing to talk about. Really strained, like they were both searching for mundane topics of conversation they could talk about, while having a completely different conversation with their eyes.’

      ‘I’m sure it must have been because you were there,’ I mused. ‘And perhaps not strange at all, given how Bella’s been so consistent in not saying anything about that day. You were there. Subject off-limits. Don’t you think? God,’ I said, ‘and how they must want to talk about it. And need to. Must be like a ticking bomb for both of them. Well, I say both – we’ve no idea what her mother’s told the police, have we? Or how much it differs from her partner’s version of events. But as far as Bella’s concerned … I mean, as a mother myself, I can completely understand how awful Laura must feel and how desperate she must be to explain her actions to Bella. Talk her through it. Help her make sense of what she witnessed. Truly awful position to be in, don’t you think?’

      Sophie sighed. I knew she was struggling as much as I was with trying to reconcile the legalities of the situation – a probable charge of attempted murder – with the reality of how it really might have been. She was a social worker, and I was a foster carer. We both knew how women in challenging relationships were often powerless to escape them, either financially or emotionally and, as a result, were very often pushed to breaking point.

      ‘What was she like, anyway? Bella’s mum?’ I asked.

      ‘Thin,’ Sophie said. ‘Gaunt, in fact. Same eyes as Bella. If I had to choose one word to describe her, I’d say haunted.’

      The coffees made, my next job was to ruin Sophie’s day further by imparting the news about the letter – something I’d promised John when we’d rung off earlier, since I’d be the one to speak to her first.

      She groaned. ‘Good grief! So are we removing Bella, then?’

      I shook my head. ‘Not yet. That was John’s first thought, obviously. But I asked him – no, begged him – to reconsider. The risk just doesn’t seem to warrant such drastic action. Not to my mind. The way I see it, if the threat was real then it wouldn’t be just a warning note, would it?’

      I gave Sophie the letter. She read it and digested what I’d said. ‘I take your point,’ she said. ‘Still, my line manager might not see it like that. She might decide that it’s absolutely in Bella’s best interests to move her. It’s not good if people with a grudge know exactly where she is, is it?’

      ‘I know,’ I admitted. ‘But I’m really not seeing it. I don’t think there’s any threat towards Bella herself in all this.’

      Sophie smiled at me over her mug. ‘So just towards you and Mike, then? So – phew – that’s all right.’

      For all that the idea of Mike taking on all comers was amusing, none of this was really funny in the least. I was actually quite surprised by how seriously those in charge seemed to be taking this – did they know something we didn’t?

      Before Sophie left, I reiterated what I’d said to John about getting to the bottom of the leak. Perhaps if I could trace it back to a specific source they’d be in more of a position to assess the level of threat. I also wondered if all my years in fostering had hardened me up to real life, to an extent that while I was obviously concerned that our location might be out there, I no longer saw threats such as this as something to be lie-awake-at-night afraid of. I’d only been half joking with Sophie, truth be known. I really did think Mike could see off anyone who dared to threaten us.

      Which was clearly insane, I chastised myself, as I waved Sophie off. We didn’t have a clue who we were dealing with. Which meant my next job (and before Tyler got home from football practice, ideally) was to tackle Bella about it. Though after the emotional day she’d had, I didn’t hold out much hope of getting to the bottom of things.

      As it was, when I went up to Bella’s room the poor girl was far too upset to even speak. It took a long period of hugging her and stroking her to even still her racking sobs.

      ‘It was awful, Casey,’ she told me, still crying freely, once she was calm enough to speak. ‘It was so old and dirty, and so cold, and Mum looked so thin. And so scared. She kept looking round all the time, you know? Like she had the jitters. Like she was waiting for someone to pounce on her or something. Do you think that happens in her prison? People attacking people, people fighting? I can’t bear it. I didn’t know what to say to her. What could I say to her? I just want to make it better.’ Her shoulders heaved again. ‘I just want them to let her come home!’

      ‘It’s okay, baby,’ I soothed. ‘And I’m sure she’s safe. No, I know she is. She won’t have anything to do with any bad people, I promise you. She’ll be in a special part of the prison. A less “prison-y” part, if you like, where she’s safe. They’ll be sure to take care of her and protect her. That’s their job. And of course she’s thin. She’s been through a terrible time, just like you have. You found it hard to eat when you first got here, didn’t you? Were sick and everything … Well, it’s just the same for your mum. She’ll be coping. She’ll be strong for you … And everything will work out … it will get better, I promise.’

      I stopped myself there. Who was I to be so bloody optimistic? For all I knew, things would work out really badly, and I felt even surer that the thing that was driving all this misery was that Bella knew exactly what she had witnessed that day. And her mother knew exactly what she’d done that day, too. What was the saying? That the devil was in the detail? Well, the devil here was the business of trying to decide if she’d been pushed beyond reason by the man she’d attacked. That the attack really was self-defence.

      But the truth was that I should be optimistic with Bella. There would come a point in the future when things would get better. That was how life generally panned out. She might have a stormy sea to navigate before that, but, one day, her life would be better than it was now, wherever these events meant life ended up taking her.

      ‘But how?’ Bella cried, sobbing louder than ever. ‘How will anything ever be the same again? Why did Mum have to tell them what she did?’

      ‘Because it was the right thing to do, love,’ I said. ‘It’s always right to tell the truth, whatever the consequences you have to face. She’d have been in more trouble if she’d have lied about it, wouldn’t she?’

      Bella took this in, and it occurred to me that now might be the time to ask her the question I wanted to ask about social media, but she surprised me by pulling away from me and flinging herself face down onto the bed, her little fists pummelling the duvet at either side of her.

      I had clearly hit a nerve. I rubbed her back and, after a time, she stopped shaking and rolled onto her side. She pulled her legs up, and I took her ankles and rested them in my lap.

      ‘Casey,’

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