Casey Watson - The Boy No One Loved and Crying for Help 2-in-1 Collection

Title Page Casey Watson The Boy No One Loved and Crying For Help

The Boy No One Loved

Crying For Help

Exclusive sample chapter

Casey Watson

Copyright Page

About the Publisher

To my wonderful and supportive family

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Funny the little details that tend to stick in your…

Chapter 2

I followed Kieron up the stairs, Riley close behind me,…

Chapter 3

I’m mad about Christmas – always have been and always will…

Chapter 4

I woke on Christmas morning in my usual good spirits,…

Chapter 5

One of the main things Mike and I had to…

Chapter 6

‘I just can’t help it,’ Justin said. ‘I know I…

Chapter 7

We’d been sitting there together for an hour by now.

Chapter 8

It was the following Saturday morning and I was on…

Chapter 9

It was a freezing cold day at the end of…

Chapter 10

The end of the week saw another email arrive from…

Chapter 11

April had arrived and with it some slightly warmer weather…

Chapter 12

Sunshine, I thought happily, as I yanked open the bedroom…

Chapter 13

‘Aw, Mum. Pleeeeaaase!!!’

Chapter 14

‘Mrs Watson? It’s Richard Firth, Head of Year Seven at…

Chapter 15

After the whole issue of the exclusion and Justin’s further…

Chapter 16

I woke up the next morning with a really thick…

Chapter 17

It was late August and, now that Justin was making…

Chapter 18

‘Spaghetti bolognaise!’ Justin announced with an excited flourish. ‘I’m gonna…

Chapter 19

Though we didn’t know for sure (and, as it turned…

Chapter 20

It was now late September and I was beginning to…

Chapter 21

‘Aw, it’s not fair. I soooo want to come!’ Riley…

Chapter 22

It was a Friday morning, just a week after Justin’s…

Chapter 23

‘What shall it be then, Casey, do you think? Shall…

Chapter 24

Deep breath, I said to myself slowly. Deep breath. It…

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

His little brothers, the boy saw, were both covered in shit. They’d removed their full nappies and smeared each other in it, while their mother’s dog – a spiteful brown terrier – was busy licking what remained from the bars of their shared cot.

He shooed the dog away and, gagging now, lifted both boys out, and then went to fetch a quilt from his mother’s bedroom. Where had she gone this time? Why was she never there?

He took the boys downstairs, used the quilt to wrap them up warmly on the couch, and tuned the TV to a channel that was showing cartoons. ‘We’re hungry,’ the older one kept repeating plaintively. ‘We’re hungry, Justin. Please Justin. Find us some food.’

There was nothing. There never was. Though he looked for some anyway. In all the cupboards. In the drawers. In the big dirty fridge. He felt tears spring in his eyes. And he also felt anger. He looked at his little brothers, at their hopeful, expectant faces. What was he supposed to feed them with? What was he supposed to do?

Then, suddenly, in that instant of despair, there came clarity. He didn’t have to think. He knew exactly what to do. As if on autopilot now, he took his brothers out into the front garden, sat them down on the grass – still wrapped in the grubby quilt – and told them to stay where they were.

He then returned to the house and looked around the living room for the lighter. Picking it up, he calmly flicked it at the couch. He continued to do this till the couch began burning and then he went and set fire to the curtains.

The dog came downstairs then, its face all smeared with the contents of the brothers’ nappies. The boy ran to the kitchen, to the cupboard under the sink, where there was a container of fluid which he knew was for the lighter. Grabbing this, he returned to the living room again, and squirted the fuel all over the animal’s filthy face.

Taking one last look around, he walked out of the front door, closing it carefully behind him. He then joined his brothers under the quilt, on the grass, and calmly watched while both home and dog perished.

His mother was located, by the police, three hours later. She’d apparently spent the day at a friend’s house. The little boy was just five and a half years old.

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