Jane Renshaw - Watch Over Me

‘It’s one of my sad and completely useless hobbies,’ said Caroline. ‘Want to help?’

‘Yes please. Where’s the box?’

‘Beckie!’ Caroline pretended shock. ‘You don’t mean to tell me you look at the picture ?’

‘Um – yes?’

‘Confirming your status as a complete amateur. You, my girl, have a lot to learn about the wonderful world of jigsaw freaks.’

‘Okay!’

With Beckie hunched happily over the jigsaw, Flora and Caroline cleared away plates and cups to the kitchen. Closeted there, Flora gave her a proper rundown on what had happened.

‘And that bitch Ailish was there in the playground. Looking down her nose at the spectacle we were making… What?’

Caroline grimaced. ‘Nothing. But that explains the cryptic post on The Chipmunk Show.’ She opened the laptop that was sitting on the kitchen table amidst folders and Post-it notes and documents with laminated covers. The desktop wallpaper was a photograph of a sunset over a beach, silvery waves lapping at a long stretch of sand and two colourful rowing boats tied to a quay in a tiny harbour, seabirds rising up from two tall stacks of rock further out to sea.

‘That’s lovely,’ sighed Flora.

And now it was gone as Caroline quickly clicked on the Facebook icon, and an odd look flitted across her face. Was it somewhere Caroline used to go with a lover? The love of her life, maybe, lost to another woman?

It was none of Flora’s business.

‘Scroll down past all the Jasmine ones…’ said Caroline.

Ailish had posted ‘Just witnessed #MegaParentFail. Nope, shouting and screaming at your child until she cries is not parenting’ and an inspirational quote:

Your child may NOT REMEMBER the words you SPEAK, but all her life she WILL REMEMBER how you made her FEEL

‘Bitch,’ said Flora as tears threatened. Ailish was right – Beckie would probably remember that awful scene in the playground all her life… the way she’d been made to feel… The way Flora had made her feel.

‘Oh God, Flora, don’t worry about it – it’s Ailish . Everyone knows what she’s like. Take a look at the Jasmine one above it.’

This was a photograph of Jasmine in yet another slutty outfit – a tight black dress with a cut-out over her stomach that dipped so low it was almost indecent. The comments under it, finally, made Flora smile.

Marianne Reiker: Stunning! She’s gorgeous, Ailish. ☼☼☼

Tamsin Smith: Beauty.

John Fraser: Crikey! Fifteen going on twenty-five. Does she go out in that?

Ailish Young: Dad, this is what they all wear now. It’s fine, LOL. She’s off out with her boyfriend.

Marianne Reiker: Lucky guy!!

Ailish Young: He’s a keeper – just told me I’m way cooler than his mum!

Katie Henderson: Coming from a teenager, isn’t that a bit of a worry?

Ailish Young: Katie, LOL, I don’t think it’s too much of a worry. I think Chris meant I don’t sweat the small stuff and take it out on my daughter, unlike some we could mention…

John Fraser: I thought her boyfriend was called Jamie. Jasmine goes through boyfriends like we go through Rich Tea biscuits! We’ll have to start calling her Liz!

Ailish Young: Dad, this is only her second ever proper boyfriend. I don’t think little Ricky in P2 with the eye patch who used to leave icky sweets in her bag counts!!!

‘At least the dad sounds nice,’ said Caroline, reading over Flora’s shoulder.

‘Yes. At least Jasmine and Thomas have him. Those poor kids.’ She pushed the laptop away.

‘I mean, the irony – Ailish is MegaParentFail in action twenty-four-seven, and all her thousand-plus Facebook friends know it.’

‘Do they, though? Perceptions are so different, aren’t they? One person might look at a particular family and see ParentFail, but another…’ And Flora found herself telling Caroline all about Saskia, about her hurting the children, hurting Beckie, to get them removed from the families she thought were bad for them.

‘Oh my God,’ Caroline kept saying, standing looking at Flora with an expression Flora couldn’t read – horror was there, of course, but something else too, something like – blame?

But how could it be their fault, what had happened before they even knew of Beckie’s existence?

‘I didn’t find out until a few days ago,’ she said defensively.

Caroline sat down in the chair across the table from her and shut the laptop, running her fingers over the gunmetal grey surface as if removing nonexistent marks.

‘Neil thinks this changes things,’ Flora said. ‘That we should maybe think about an open adoption, letting the Johnsons have contact with Beckie, but –’

‘Oh God, no!’ Caroline burst out, eyes flashing now at Flora. ‘You can’t do that! They’re a load of nutters!’

Relief flooded through her. ‘I know. That’s exactly how I feel, but Neil – he’s led such a sheltered life, you know, such an easy middle-class life, up to now, obviously… So he tends not to see the dangers.’

‘And you haven’t led a sheltered life?’

Flora shrugged.

‘Sorry – didn’t mean to pry.’

‘No, it’s okay.’ In fact, the temptation to confide in this tough, pragmatic woman was dangerously strong. She was pretty sure Caroline wouldn’t judge her as others might. ‘I had a nice middle-class upbringing too, only Mum and I had a bit of a hard time after Dad died. And Mum and I, we didn’t really get on… And she was killed in an accident when I was at uni. She was run over by a milk float, of all things.’

‘Oh my God.’

Caroline’s eyebrows shot up, but her mouth didn’t even twitch. And for some reason Flora was suddenly remembering Pam’s reaction to this piece of information.

Pam had smiled.

She’d repressed it almost immediately, but she had smiled.

‘I’m sorry, Flora.’ Caroline touched her hand, her face full of nothing but sympathy. ‘How fucking awful.’

And Flora found herself blinking back tears. ‘What about you?’

‘Oh, I’m a council house girl. Not that it was exactly mean streets of Dunfermline. It was one of those 1930s estates with lots of grass and trees and corner shops. People looking out for each other. Pretty sheltered too, really.’

‘No Johnsons.’ Flora managed a smile.

‘Definitely no Johnsons.’

‘I have to try to make Neil see that the Johnsons are a threat to Beckie. That we should be doing everything in our power to keep them away from her, not thinking about initiating contact.’

‘Surely after this… At least you can get things moving now with a non-harassment order.’

Flora looked at the leafy shadows shivering on the wall behind Caroline as a breeze whipped at the lilac tree at the window, sending its branches dipping and dancing. No doubt Neil would agree that doing things by the book was the way to go. But was it? With people like the Johnsons, what protection, really, did the justice system offer them?

They’ve pulled the curtains closed, aye, but there’s a wee gap where I can get my neb in. And there’s Bekki, sitting between they bastards on the couch in their fucking Grand Designs kitchen, playing a game on her iPad and chucking crisps in her gob.

The brass neck of Mair, making out like I was too obese and addicted to chicken fucking nuggets to look after Bekki, and here’s that fat fucking bitch feeding her crap. The bitch puts her hand on Bekki’s head and strokes her hair.

That’s our wean.

That’s our couch she should be on and that’s my chebs she should be coorying in to.

There’s some rocks in a circle under a tree with faces painted on them that’re going manky with dirt and green shite. I get one of them, a tarty Miss Piggy face with rosy cheeks and big red lips and yellow hair, and airch it right at the patio doors.