Page 6 of Darling Girls

Norah didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Her heart was pounding in her ears, like when she swam laps underwater. ‘Fine.’

‘What I have to tell you is a little distressing,’ the detective cautioned. ‘It might be helpful if you were with someone right now.’

‘Norah!’

She glanced back over her shoulder. Kevin was striding towards her. Shit.

‘I grew up in foster care,’ she told the detective as she began to jog. ‘I’m comfortable with distressing. Shoot.’

‘Hey!’ Kevin called. ‘Wait up!’

‘Are yousureyou’re all right?’ the policewoman asked.

‘I’m fine.’ Norah slowed, partly out of shock and partly because she was out of breath. She hadn’t run since the last time she’d been chased by police, and she was out of shape.

‘Okay then. Well, some excavation work has been done at your former foster home. And while they were down there, they uncovered –’

‘Norah!’ Kevin called again, closing in her.

For fuck’s sake.

She stopped short. It was all too much. Police. Wild Meadows. Kevin. Something had to give.

‘Hold on a second,’ Norah said to the detective. She lowered the phone and waited until Kevin was right behind her before she spun around, taking him down with a right hook. It was a solid punch. Strong and from the chest.

Kevin fell to the pavement, his nose spurting blood. ‘Jesus!’ he cried. ‘What did you dothatfor?’

‘Are you there, Norah?’ the police officer was saying.

Norah lifted the phone back to her ear. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Sorry about that. Go ahead.’

3

ALICIA

Seven hours.That’s how much time had passed since Alicia had collected two-and-a-half-year-old Theo from the police station and brought him to his new foster home.Seven hourssince he’d scampered out of her grasp and disappeared under the dining room table.Seven hourssince Alicia had sat on the linoleum floor and promised him she would wait until he was ready to come out. Alicia always kept her promises to the kids. Which meant she might have to die on this linoleum floor.

‘Hey, buddy, I thinkBlueymight be on the TV,’ Alicia tried, without much hope. ‘Should we go and see?’

Theo didn’t turn his little blond head from the wall. She had to admire his resolve. Since they’d arrived, he hadn’t spoken, he’d refused all food and drink, and, if smell was anything to go by, he’d soiled himself. Still, he wouldn’t budge.

Last night, he’d been taken to the police station by a neighbour who’d discovered him playing on the road at midnight, wearing nothing but a dirty nappy. Apparently his father had been too inebriated to realise he was gone. His mother had yet to be located and it wasn’t looking hopeful. Alicia had hoped that returning Theo to Trish’s, where he’d spent a few months earlier in the year, might provide Theo with some reassurance; but, if anything, the understanding of what was happening made things worse. His head remained down, his tiny, twiggy arms remained ramrod straight by his sides.

‘Do you like chocolate?’ she asked, as Aaron, another foster kid, sloped into the kitchen and began rummaging in the cupboards. ‘I’ve got a KitKat here. Want some?’

Alicia broke off a chocolate finger and held it out to Theo under the table. To her delight, he scooted across the floor to inspect it.

‘Ow!’ she cried, as she felt the sharp milk teeth clamp down hard on her own fingers.

Aaron, who’d retrieved a bag of crisps and was devouring them in huge mouthfuls, snorted. ‘You walked into that one.’

His comment delighted Alicia no end. In her experience, when kids felt comfortable enough to diss you it meant you were doing something right.

As for the bite, Alicia had suffered worse. The fact was it took a certain kind of person to choose a woefully paid, underappreciated career in which most of the people you dealt with wanted to cause you physical harm. Alicia didn’t blame the kids for disliking her – in most instances she was the one who separated them from their parents. It made sense to Alicia that they would want to hit her, kick her, spit on her. It wore a lot of social workers down after a while but for Alicia the opposite was true: knowing these kids had some fight left in them buoyed her. If there was one thing foster kids needed, it was fight.

Besides, Alicia had learned to accept being poorly treated a long time ago. It felt familiar – even comforting. Like coming home.

‘Oh yeah?’ Alicia said to Aaron. ‘You think you can do better?’