Cathy Glass - The Child Bride

Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the children.

HarperElement

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published by HarperElement 2014

FIRST EDITION

© Cathy Glass 2014

A catalogue record of this book

is available from the British Library

Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2014

Cover photography by Nicky Rojas (posed by model)

Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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Source ISBN: 9780007590001

Ebook Edition © September 2014 ISBN: 9780007590018

Version: 2016-04-22

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Also by Cathy Glass

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter One: Petrified

Chapter Two: Different House

Chapter Three: Good Influence

Chapter Four: Sobbing

Chapter Five: Scared into Silence

Chapter Six: Dreadful Feeling

Chapter Seven: Desperate

Chapter Eight: Lost Innocence

Chapter Nine: Ordeal

Chapter Ten: Optimistic

Chapter Eleven: Worries and Worrying

Chapter Twelve: Only Fourteen

Chapter Thirteen: Consequences

Chapter Fourteen: Review

Chapter Fifteen: Vicious Threats

Chapter Sixteen: Zeena’s Story

Chapter Seventeen: A Special Holiday

Chapter Eighteen: Overwhelmed

Chapter Nineteen: Atrocity

Chapter Twenty: I Miss Hugs

Chapter Twenty-One: Police Business

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Suitcase

Chapter Twenty-Three: Other Victims

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Silence Was Deafening

Chapter Twenty-Five: Heartbreaking

Chapter Twenty-Six: Turn of Events

Chapter Twenty-Seven: More than I Deserve

Epilogue: Deserves the Best

Contacts

Exclusive sample chapter

Cathy Glass

If you loved this book …

Moving Memoirs eNewsletter

A note from The Fostering Network

About the Publisher

Damaged

Hidden

Cut

The Saddest Girl in the World

Happy Kids

The Girl in the Mirror

I Miss Mummy

Mummy Told Me Not to Tell

My Dad’s a Policeman (a Quick Reads novel)

Run, Mummy, Run

The Night the Angels Came

Happy Adults

A Baby’s Cry

Happy Mealtimes for Kids

Another Forgotten Child

Please Don’t Take My Baby

Will You Love Me?

About Writing and How to Publish

Daddy’s Little Princess

A big thank-you to my editor, Holly; my literary agent, Andrew; Carole, Vicky, Laura, Hannah, Virginia and all the team at HarperCollins.

A small child walks along a dusty path. She has been on an errand for her aunt and is now returning to her village in rural Bangladesh. The sun is burning high in the sky and she is hot and thirsty. Only another 300 steps, she tells herself, and she will be home.

The dry air shimmers in the scorching heat and she keeps her eyes down, away from its glare. Suddenly she hears her name being called close by and looks over. One of her teenage cousins is playing hide and seek behind the bushes.

‘Go away. I’m hot and tired,’ she returns, with childish irritability. ‘I don’t want to play with you now.’

‘I have water,’ he says. ‘Wouldn’t you like a drink?’

She has no hesitation in going over. She is very thirsty. Behind the bush, but still visible from the path if anyone looked, he forces her to the ground and rapes her.

She is nine years old.

‘And she wouldn’t feel more comfortable with an Asian foster carer?’ I queried.

‘No, Zeena has specifically asked for a white carer,’ Tara, the social worker, continued. ‘I know it’s unusual, but she is adamant. She’s also asked for a white social worker.’

‘Why?’

‘She says she’ll feel safer, but won’t say why. I want to accommodate her wishes if I can.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, puzzled. ‘How old is she?’

‘Fourteen. Although she looks much younger. She’s a sweet child, but very traumatized. She’s admitted she’s been abused, but is too frightened to give any details.’

‘The poor kid,’ I said.

‘I know. The child protection police office will see her as soon as we’ve moved her. She’s obviously suffered, but for how long and who abused her, she’s not saying. I’ve no background information. Sorry. All we know is that Zeena has younger siblings and her family is originally from Bangladesh, but that’s it I’m afraid. I’ll visit the family as soon as I’ve got Zeena settled. I want to collect her from school this afternoon and bring her straight to you. The school is working with us. In fact, they were the ones who raised the alarm and contacted the social services. I should be with you in about two hours.’

‘Yes, that’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll be here.’

‘I’ll phone you when we’re on our way,’ Tara clarified. ‘I hope Zeena will come with me this time. She asked to go into care on Monday but then changed her mind. Her teacher said she was petrified.’

‘Of what?’

‘Or of whom? Zeena wouldn’t say. Anyway, thanks for agreeing to take her,’ Tara said, clearly anxious to be on her way and to get things moving. ‘I’ll phone as soon as I’ve collected her from school.’

We said a quick goodbye and I replaced the handset. It was only then I realized I’d forgotten to ask if Zeena had any special dietary requirements or other special considerations, but my guess was that as Tara had so little information on Zeena, she wouldn’t have known. I’d find out more when they arrived. With an emergency placement – as this one was – the background information on the child or children is often scarce to begin with, and I have little notice of the child’s arrival; sometimes just a phone call in the middle of the night from the duty social worker to say the police are on their way with a child. If a move into care is planned, I usually have more time and information.

I’d been fostering for twenty years and had recently left Homefinders, the independent fostering agency (IFA) I’d been working with, because they’d closed their local branch and Jill, my trusted support social worker, had taken early retirement. I was now fostering for the local authority (LA). While it made no difference to the child which agency I fostered for, I was having to get used to slightly different procedures, and doing without the excellent support of Jill. I did have a supervising social worker (as the LA called them), but I didn’t see her very often, and I knew that, unlike Jill, she wouldn’t be with me when a new child arrived. It wasn’t the LA’s practice.