In the meantime, fingers crossed still, I continued to seethe. I seethed all the rest of Monday and I seethed all of Tuesday. Seethed internally, obviously, because I was a grown-up and knew how to, but every hour that passed – with the whole imbroglio still not sorted out and no contact visit on the horizon – just made me seethe all the more.
We talked it all through, Mike and I, and we were both of a mind. That we could absolutely trust Tyler and Adrianna, and that whatever was the driving force behind that cruel, destructive act was something that had nothing to do with any of us.
‘We’ve got to look at it logically,’ he said on the Wednesday evening, as we both lay in bed staring at the ceiling again. ‘The way I see it, it’s either one thing or the other. Either he’s got some personal reason for wanting Adrianna not to have her baby back – which she is entirely unaware of – or he’s got his own unrelated reasons for having a downer on teenagers generally, with a special emphasis on teenagers in care – with whom he’s obviously had quite a few dealings.’
‘I can’t believe it’s the first,’ I said. ‘Well, unless by some incredible coincidence he’s one of the customers at whatever illegal brothel that gang of trafficking scumbags was running.’
‘No, you’re right,’ Mike said. ‘I can’t see it either. We’re much too far away.’
‘Plus,’ I added, ‘he was so moody when he came to us. As in immediately moody, you know? And that was before he’d so much as clapped eyes on Adrianna. As in he didn’t want to do the job at all.’
‘But isn’t that his job?’
‘Apparently not. He was helping out, as far as I can remember. His real job is translating other stuff – written stuff – for social services. Reports. Pamphlets. Information packs and so on. You know, a desk job. Well, as far as I know.’
‘So his axe to grind is more about young people generally. Which makes me think he’s got’ – he put his fingers in quote marks – ‘“issues”.’
‘Well, yah boo bloody sucks to him, frankly,’ I fumed. ‘He’s got issues? He should try losing his father, having his stepfather sexually assault him, having to run away to Britain only to find he’s been brought over as a sex slave. He should try all of that, and see how many “issues” he ends up with. And don’t get me started on –’
Mike placed a hand on my arm. ‘I have absolutely no intention of doing so,’ he said. Then, sensibly, he pinged off the light.
Since there was nothing I could personally do to help sort it all out, I did as I was told, i.e. nothing. Just kept jollying Adrianna along, promising her she would see Ethan soon, and desperately hoping I was telling her the truth. It actually wasn’t that hard, because I knew Adrianna better than anyone else who was involved with her and I was supremely confident that she would see him again. After all, when the police provided the paperwork that would refute Mr Kanski’s claims, it should be a simple formality to put the whole thing to one side. And with my more philosophical head on, I even managed to become reasonably sanguine – this was, after all, probably just the first of many injustices, irritations and plan-wrecking events that were likely to occur in Adrianna’s new life. There were still so many hoops to jump through that it was insane to get in such a flap over this one.
But when a week passed, and then another, and there was still nothing doing, I began to get ants, bees and bugs in my own pants, and seriously considered going down to the police station myself, sneaking under the counter and doing a smash and grab raid on their evidence room.
But then the call came. And, thankfully, on a Thursday. Had John been spying on me from behind a hedge, worried I might actually do just that? Lauren and Adrianna had literally just driven off.
‘You might want to sit down,’ he said.
‘Oh, no …’ I groaned.
‘Don’t worry. It’s not bad news. All good. Sanction lifted. Everything’s full steam ahead again.’
My sigh of relief was so huge that all the air left my lungs. I gulped in a huge, happy in-breath. Then I sat down and listened. And John surprised me. Really surprised me.
If you put us side by side and had to choose which of us was the more generally fiery and gung-ho, you’d say me – I’d say me – every time. We were both professionals, but John was very much the ‘professionals’ professional’, in that, generally speaking, he did everything by the book, which, as a senior member of the fostering agency he absolutely should.
But in this, so frustrated by the lack of forward motion, he went off piste, mixed his metaphors and stuck his neck out.
‘I just couldn’t stop myself,’ he admitted. ‘Because it was driving me nuts. So once it was clear that the wheels of justice had got stuck in a metaphorical M25 tailback, I simply picked up the phone and asked Mr Kanski what he thought he was doing myself.’
‘You never,’ I said, shocked. ‘Isn’t that harassment or something? Are you even allowed to speak to him at all?’
‘Erm, pass,’ he said.
‘Go you!’ I said. ‘A man after my own heart! Go on, then. Shoot. What did he say?’
‘Well, at first, exactly what we probably both thought he would, i.e. pretty much the same thing he’d said in his letter. After a lot of bluster of the “Why would you imagine I’d speak to you about this?” kind.’
‘To which you said?’
‘That I was just wondering, that was all. Wondering if he was completely sure of what he had seen, because it seemed so at odds with both the young people I knew quite well.’
‘God, yes, Tyler. He wouldn’t know Tyler’s connection to you, would he?’
‘Exactly. And I think it floored him a bit.’
‘Good. And?’
‘And I told him that I also wondered why he was so sure Adrianna had done the things he’d said, given that the police had seen the incident rather differently.’
‘And?’
‘And that was it.’
‘What was it?’
‘That was the key thing. That was really why I couldn’t stop myself from calling him. I mentioned the police. That’s why I called him, Casey. Because it had suddenly hit me that he couldn’t possibly know about the police being involved. I worked it out. He’d made no mention of it in his letter – and you’d expect that, wouldn’t you? If he had known they were there? Surely? That he’d either say something like ‘the police had to be called’ or have even called them himself. But he did neither. And then I looked at the date – and he had written his letter about Adrianna the next day. And I didn’t get your log report about the incident till I picked up your email on the Monday morning, and it didn’t make it into the file till the Tuesday.’
I was trying to keep up. ‘But that still doesn’t explain the disparity, or why he did it.’
‘Patience. I’m coming to that now. So, as soon as he heard about the police coming he went quiet, so of course I said, “Oh, weren’t you there when the police arrived, then?” And he blustered again a bit – you know, “I didn’t need to be. I’d already seen enough” and so on – at which point I told him that the police had taken statements from everyone involved and that they had, in fact, charged the other boy with assault. I also told him the other boy was already known to the police and that nobody had been under the influence of alcohol. At which point he began back-tracking, big time. Specially when I told him the police correspondence on the matter was in the post – and that it would effectively put the lie to his mad, trumped-up version of events. Well, I didn’t say that last bit, obviously. Not in those exact words. But I’m sure he got the gist. As he should. Because, in reality, he could even be sued for libel, couldn’t he?’
‘So what’s he going to do now?’ I asked. ‘Write another letter, explaining that he got it all wrong?’
‘Pretty much. Though it’s a moot point now anyway. The statements have already arrived, so it’s just a question of filing paperwork and putting it to bed really.’
Which was obviously a relief, but I still didn’t get it. ‘But why did he do it in the first place? That still doesn’t figure. What possessed him? What did she ever do to him?’
‘Okay,’ said John. ‘So this bit’s strictly between you and me. I did some digging,’ he said. I smiled to myself. That was us two – always digging. ‘And though it’s all hearsay, it does make some sense of it.’
‘What does?’ I said, exasperated. He was enjoying this far too much.
‘So here’s what I’ve heard, in a nutshell. Married man. Two kids. Working as a translator for the service. Though not the desk job – out in the field, then. On call. Home visit stuff. Interviews. Mostly dealing with immigrants who have little or no English, and so on. And he gets involved with a girl – this was a good half dozen years ago. A young Polish girl who he’s been working with regularly. Has some sort of midlife crisis, and has an affair. The girl gets pregnant. Puts pressure on. The wife chucks him out. Takes the kids. Moves away. End of marriage. Then the girl leaves him too. Et voilà. One deeply, deeply unhappy divorcee. Can’t cope. Changes area. Moves to desk job.’
‘Oh, my word …’ I said, shocked. ‘So Mike was spot on. He said it would be personal. He said he’d have issues. And you know what? I saw something on Facebook just the other day. Let me think how it went. Something like, “When somebody is cruel to you, remember that it’s nothing to do with you and a reflection on them. No normal person tries to destroy someone else’s life.” That’s the gist, anyway. Blimey.’
‘It’s more than that, Casey, in all seriousness. He’s only just back after a long period off sick with stress. Not just issues, I’d say. Major mental health issues. And, of course, now it comes to light – now it’s chugged up the line a bit – that this letter isn’t an isolated incident.’
‘So he’s a serial letter writer, then. A serial “offender”. And our poor Adrianna just happened to be in the firing line. Jeepers.’
John sighed, as if, depressingly, it had all worked out as expected. ‘So I suppose we should feel sorry for him, shouldn’t we?’
‘You know what? I think I do, John. In a weird sort of way. He’s obviously ill.’
‘And there but for the grace of God, eh? That’s what I can’t help thinking. Anyway, it’s over.’
I did feel a bit sorry for Mr Kanski, now I knew more. It must be no joke to have so much bitterness lodged in your heart that it spills so corrosively into your head. But it being over at least meant it could begin again.
After all the upset – and, no, I never spoke a word of my new intelligence to Adrianna – it felt a little like finally breathing out. And, sure enough, two days later Jazz called with the news that we could travel back down to London to see Ethan the following week.
And it had clearly been a shrewd move to get Adrianna working, because she put the couple of weeks’ worth of pocket money to very good use, and was able to arrive at the house bearing presents. She’d bought Ethan a teddy bear, and a beautiful little striped sailor outfit, which the foster mum, Sarah, made a quite delightful fuss over, commenting on how amazing Adrianna was for getting the size absolutely perfect, as if being able to do so was some divine maternal gift few were lucky enough to have been bestowed with, and generally making Adrianna feel wonderful.
‘And he knew me. I am sure of it,’ she enthused on the way home. ‘Did you see the way he smiled? Casey, you were right – he didn’t forget me.’
‘You see?’ I said. ‘A baby knows. That’s the thing. A baby knows its mother.’
‘And I must buy a mobile phone next time I get paid. Just a cheap one, to take photos of Ethan,’ she added. She then sighed deeply. ‘Oh, Casey, I wish they lived nearer to us. I hate to leave him. My heart hurts so much.’
I really didn’t think she could have put it any better.
I hadn’t told Adrianna, and wouldn’t be doing so, but the day before the visit I’d made a decision of my own while Adrianna was with my sister. Having chewed it over with Mike, I’d driven down to see John in his office and run a plan by him – that in the short term Ethan should simply come to us. ‘Only in the short term,’ I emphasised, ‘because I do see it as short term. She’ll be 17 soon, and once she’s acclimatised to motherhood it should be no problem to move her on to supported lodgings.’
I also mentioned that, should she want it, Adrianna could work more hours in Truly Scrumptious, which would help her save up for the necessary expenses that lay ahead.
But John wouldn’t budge – not even an inch – on his resounding ‘no’.
He also raised a hand, all the better to tick his reasons off on it, and this was before he’d even offered me a coffee. ‘If Adrianna wants her baby back,’ he’d said, ‘then she has to be assessed properly. Which means the assessment has to take place in a neutral setting. And before you jump down my throat, I know you’ve had a mother and baby placement in the past, and –’
‘Exactly,’ I squeaked. He ignored me. ‘What happened with Emma was different, Casey. You know that. She came to you pregnant. The circumstances here are totally different and, in order to fairly assess this as viable, we need to be able to see how Adrianna copes, on her own, with these gradual introductions to her baby’s life.’
‘Okay, I accept it,’ I said sulkily. ‘But I still don’t understand it. It would make things so much simpler if she just stayed with us.’
‘Ethan is four months old now,’ John continued gently. ‘He has routines and is used to his life as it is, simple as that may be. So it’s for Adrianna to show that she can fit in with him, which she won’t be able to do with you hovering in the background and her life continuing very much as before.’
‘I don’t hover,’ I said indignantly.
‘Casey, you do,’ he said firmly. ‘And how will you stop yourself? No way can she make the transition she needs to while billeted at the Watson Boutique Hotel. Seriously, there is a reason for everything we do, and this is one such – she needs to do this bit on her own. But what I can tell you is that we are actively looking for a placement a lot nearer to you. A temporary set of carers who are trained to do this very job. They keep babies in their home solely for these kinds of assessment purposes.’
‘Really?’ I asked, surprised. I hadn’t realised such specialist foster carers even existed. But then I didn’t know everything about everything, clearly. Because it seemed they did.
‘Really,’ John assured me. And he graciously didn’t rub my nose in it. ‘And we even think we might have found the very people for the job.’
Now my ears pricked up. This was more like it.
For the next couple of weeks I didn’t have time to wonder what might be happening in the background because I was obliged to start thinking about what I’d been sidelined from thinking about; namely that there were three birthdays coming up. Not to mention Easter, which was late this year, which meant I might as well lump everything together: Jackson’s eighth, Marley Mae’s third and, of course, Adrianna’s seventeenth, all kind of sprinkled with an Easter-ish theme.
It seemed the only sensible option was to hold one massive joint party. And as constant checks online seemed to confirm that the weather was being kind for a change, I decided to make it a garden party too.
Which was not big stress – should the heavens open, we’d simply decamp inside again, and either way I’d benefit because a triple party meant only one manic bout of cleaning, and since Mike, Kieron and Riley’s David turned into master chefs at the very mention of the word ‘barbecue’, I wouldn’t have much cooking to do either.
In fact, I thought, pleased with myself for such excellent forward thinking, it would be a perfect opportunity to further Adrianna’s domestic education. I had a long list of items she had to start becoming proficient at, and two perfect birthday cakes, one for Jackson and one for Marley Mae, seemed as good a place as any to start.
‘How’s she doing anyway?’ Riley asked, nodding into the garden at Adrianna on the morning of the big day. We were all busy doing our own final preparations before anyone else arrived, and Adrianna was outside with Mike, unwrapping burgers and sausages. She glanced up and, spotting us, waved.
I waved back, feeling excited at the prospect of her seeing the surprise birthday cake I’d organised for her. Not made for her. My domestic skills didn’t quite run to Premier League party-cake-baking, and since I imagined she’d not had a birthday cake in years, I’d had Riley – who was the party-cake supremo bar none – concoct a huge spiral of lavishly decorated cupcakes, their toppings a riot of eye-popping spring flowers.
‘Fine,’ I said to my clever daughter, who’d just stashed the surprise away for later. ‘In fact better than fine. She’s coping really well, considering. Amazingly well.’
I continued to watch Adrianna, realising how different she had always seemed from the kids we usually fostered – and from day one. ‘This has been one weird placement,’ I mused, as I continued to watch her through the conservatory window.
Riley looked at me quizzically. ‘Weird? How d’you mean, Mum?’ she asked.
I thought for a moment. ‘Just the complete absence of all the things we usually have to deal with, I suppose. No meltdowns, no door-slamming. No behavioural issues. No dashing to the phone to call the emergency duty team in the small hours. No violence. No self-harming …’ I smiled as I trailed off. The list of troubles she didn’t display was probably endless. ‘Honestly, in some ways it’s been more like having an international student come to stay with us. You know? Or an au pair even. Or a lodger.’ I looked at my daughter. ‘Do you think they breed them tougher in Poland? Is that it? Because one thing is for sure. She’s been so little trouble – you know, on a day-to-day level – that it’s all too easy to forget what she’s been through. You’d think she’d … I don’t know …’ I faltered. ‘It’s hard to explain, but, you know, where has it all gone? All that psychological trauma. All the fear and the loneliness and the sense of betrayal. All the horror of everything that’s happened to her. You know, since she told me her real story that day at the hospital, she’s barely mentioned any of it again. I mean, yes, she’s made the odd comment – about her dad, about the friends she made. But that’s it. So where’s it gone? It’s like she’s – I don’t know – wiped the disk in her brain. Isn’t the human psyche strange?’
‘You’re telling me,’ Riley said. She considered it for a moment. ‘But maybe that’s the best way of dealing with it all. For her. You know, I appreciate we do all this training about psychology and all that, and I get that. And if a child has major issues because of something they’re not dealing with, then obviously it’s important that they get help. But don’t you think that, sometimes, it’s better if you can forget? Just, you know, park it. Move on. Not keep trying to go back. It’s not like she can change anything, is it?’
‘She still has a mother out there somewhere. Well, if she can be called that, quite frankly.’ I sighed. ‘No, I shouldn’t say that. I don’t know her story, do I?’
‘So maybe at some point in the future there will be a reconciliation there. Does funny things to you, being a mother, doesn’t it? You get a whole new perspective. Perhaps she’ll find a way …’
‘Nice to think so. Though right now she seems pretty set on what she wants. Which is not to go back, ever. Just to get her baby back …’
‘And that’s going to keep her pretty busy. Hard business bringing up a baby as a single mum, for anyone.’
I nodded. It was another mountain yet to climb, definitely – both practically and emotionally. But she was just so fired up to get going. To reclaim the motherhood she’d almost lost. ‘I just wish things could be speeded up for her,’ I said. ‘That she could get on with it. Poor thing is pining for that baby boy, and there’s nothing I can do to help her.’
‘But you are helping, Mum,’ Riley said. ‘Of course you are. Imagine if she didn’t have you and Dad in her corner. Think about it. Fate has played a massive part here. If she didn’t live with you two, she’d never have met Lauren, she’d never have gone to dance class, she’d probably never have gone to hospital … or if she had, who’s to say she’d have dared open up about what had happened to her? She might well have been too scared, mightn’t she? She could have been carrying that pain around for years yet. No baby. End of. For ever. Now that, I’d say, really would mess with her psyche. Instead, she’s in contact with her baby and in all likelihood she will get him back.’
‘I just wish the whole process didn’t take so long, though.’
Riley rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, Mum, things can’t always happen at your command, you know. You just have to be a bit more patient!’
‘Oh, I know,’ I said, gazing out at the happy little tableau in the garden. ‘But you know what I’m like. When I uncover a mystery – well, okay, in this case, sort of – I just want all the loose ends tied up as quickly as possible. I hate this feeling of being in limbo – of not knowing what’s going to happen next.’
‘Oh, Mother,’ Riley said, shaking both her head and the salad tongs. ‘You already know exactly what happens next. Adrianna continues to be assessed, social services decide if she’s a fit mother, they help her find a flat and off she goes – simples! And listen –’ We both did. ‘Kieron’s just put on your Blondie CD, so come on, get your groove on and have a dance, woman!’
So I did dance, and allowed myself to ‘go with the flow’. Which wasn’t difficult, seeing as I had all my family around me. All the kids and grandkids, Donna and Chloe, my mum and dad – even Denver, for whom I would always have a soft spot – and all of whom kindly brought gifts for all three of our birthday guests.
And, best of all, one very special gift indeed. Soppy to be so sentimental, I know, but perhaps that’s just part and parcel of getting older. You’ve seen so much, been through stuff, learned what matters and what doesn’t, and, for the first but definitely not the last time that day, I found myself feeling silly for being reduced to floods of tears.
It was just so unexpected. One minute I was standing chatting to Lauren, little Dee Dee on my hip, and the next I had Marley Mae tugging at my top and asking me to go with her to give Adrianna a special present.
So off we all toddled, whereupon I was astonished to watch my grandaughter climb onto Adrianna’s knee and present her with her oh-so-precious rabbit.
‘For baby Ethan,’ she said. I think I actually gaped. This wasn’t just any rabbit, this was the cuddly-toy-that-must-never-be-mislaid. The one she’d clung to since babyhood – her chosen ‘transitional comfort item’, to use the parlance. The ball of fluff that had been through the wash-dryer cycle a zillion times, the thing she simply could not be without.
Correction. I did gape. I twisted my head and gaped at Riley. But she just gave me a ‘well, if that’s what she wants to do’ kind of shrug.
‘It’s a wabbit,’ Marley Mae went on. Adrianna was gaping too. ‘An’ he was mine when I was little. But I’m a big girl today, so I don’t need him no more. It’s okay,’ she said, presumably seeing Adrianna’s doubtful expression. ‘You have it for the baby. Go on – kiss him!’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Adrianna answered, dutifully kissing both ‘wabbit’ and Marley Mae. And, conscious that a change of mind might occur once my grandaughter got tired, I had to bite my lip to stop the words ‘Are you sure?’ coming from them. Perhaps I was underestimating her anyway.
‘Thank you, my princess,’ Adrianna said, her voice wobbly. ‘And soon you will meet baby Ethan yourself. And I promise I will tell him that it was you that gave him his very first Easter bunny.’
And there were, it seemed, other Easter traditions for us to partake in, of a kind that went down extremely well in some quarters. With the day proving so kind, we did the triple cake candle blowing-out ceremony in the garden, and it was just after that when I caught the tail-end of a conversation that had Tyler in something of an excited spin.
‘You look like you’re cooking something up,’ I said to the giggling teenage gaggle – teenage and, I noted, including Levi and Kieron.
‘Tell Mum,’ Tyler enthused. ‘We just have to do it, don’t we?’ He nudged Kieron. ‘It’s not like we haven’t got the kit for it or anything, is it?’
‘I’m definitely up for it,’ Kieron agreed.
‘Go on then,’ I said, knowing intuitively that it was going to be something I probably wouldn’t approve of but would end up sanctioning anyway.
‘We have this tradition in Poland,’ Adrianna explained. ‘It’s called Wet Monday –’
‘Uh-ho,’ I said.
‘Really, it is the best fun of all of Easter. It is the day when all the boys get water – they fill buckets, and use water pistols, and blasters –’
‘And we have blasters,’ said Tyler, grinning at Denver.
‘And they chase the girls around. All over town, this is – everyone does this. And everyone gets very, very wet. It’s so fun,’ she finished, beaming.
My immediate thought was – in Gdansk, on the Baltic? It would be – well, Baltic! And my second was that there was no getting away from it. It might be Sunday, but there was no splitting hairs to be done here. Wet Monday, Polish style, was what it was going to be. I knew those gleams – in Kieron, in Tyler and, increasingly, in Levi. It would take a better woman than I was to manage to stop them.
Even had I wanted to, which I didn’t. And Adrianna had been right. It was indeed ‘so fun’. For everyone.
And, yes, everyone got very, very wet.
I would never have imagined that the day could have gone any better, but it seemed it was about to. We were just at the mopping-up stage, everyone full of birthday cake and giggles, when my mobile phone started to vibrate on the bench beside me. I glanced down at the number and grimaced. Why on earth would John Fulshaw be calling me on a Sunday afternoon? Certainly not to pass the time of day. I hoped it wasn’t more bad news, but I dodged into the conservatory to take it just in case.
‘Hi, Casey,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry to interrupt the festivities and I know you’ll be busy but I wanted you to know as soon as I did. I’ve just taken the call.’
‘What call?’ I asked, cupping a hand round my other ear to drown out the noise coming from the garden. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘Just the opposite,’ he said brightly. ‘I am the bearer of good news for a change. The assessment carers I mentioned have agreed to take Ethan. All being well, he moves in with them next week.’
‘Oh, that’s brilliant,’ I said, doing a little Tyler fist-pump. I couldn’t wait to see the expression on Adrianna’s face.
‘Oh, but there’s more. Something that I think will make your day as well. Casey, they only live two minutes away from your house.’
This was stunning news. Almost unbelievable, in fact. ‘What? Really? Oh my God, John! So close! What are the chances?’
‘Slim to zero, I’d say. But sometimes the sun shines on the righteous, I guess. So yes, really. Almost neighbours.’
‘So do I know them?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘They’re fairly new to the area. Probably heard on the grapevine what a nice class of people live roundabouts. But, no, they say they don’t know you, so I’m assuming not – except perhaps by sight. Which might be the case because they’re practically round the corner from you.’
This was marvellous news. For both us and Adrianna. ‘Oh,’ I said, joyfully, ‘I cannot wait to tell her!’
‘Listen, about that. D’you think you could put her on the phone? Call me soft, but I’d really like to tell her this myself. I feel I’m always the bearer of bad tidings, so it would be nice to be the one giving her some good news for a change.’
‘Oh, of course!’ I said. Bless him. And he made a good point. All the hard work he did behind the scenes, making a difference – did it really get the appreciation it deserved? Probably not. I told him to hang on and dashed out into the garden, phone in hand, dragging Adrianna back with me to somewhere she could properly hear.
‘It’s for you,’ I said, grinning as I handed her my mobile. Then stood and waited as she listened and the smile began to creep up her face. ‘Oh,’ she said, finally, ‘dzieki, dzieki!’ Then a bunch of stuff in Polish that I didn’t understand.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, once she’d managed to regain some composure. ‘I was so excited I forgot to speak in English. Forgive me.’
As if she needed to apologise. ‘Don’t be daft,’ I said. ‘I just wondered what you said to John, that was all.’
She blushed. She was a beautiful girl. Inside and out. ‘Oh, just that he is now my ziom, like Tyler. And that this is the best birthday present I could wish for.’ Then she put a hand to her mouth, clearly having second thoughts. ‘Oh, but I hope I was not too familiar!’
No danger of that, I thought. Bless her. I could already imagine the width of John’s grin.