Having tucked Connor in I padded across the landing to check on Tyler, a thought already half forming in my head. Poor old Tyler, whose day had been derailed as well, and with whom I’d barely had a proper chance to chat – particularly given that come Monday he’d be off on his football-skills course.
He had his back to me, curled on his side, his headphones plugged in; obviously listening to music on his iPod. ‘Hey,’ I said, touching his shoulder, causing him to roll towards me sleepily. ‘Maybe time you took those out and got some shut-eye, eh?’
I helped him remove the plugs from his ears and kissed him goodnight. ‘Quite a day we’ve had today, eh?’ I added as I switched his bedside light off. ‘Like a whirlwind, that one, isn’t he? Hope he didn’t completely ruin your day.’
‘Is that what I was like?’ he said sleepily. ‘Was I that bad when I first came?’
‘Oh, you were much worse,’ I ribbed him. ‘Absolute nightmare, you were. They broke the mould when they made you, as you already know.’ I jumped on him and gave him a bear hug through the covers. Tyler liked hearing about what a ‘nightmare’ he’d been in much the same way as some kids – kids with less complicated pasts – liked hearing about the antics they got up to as toddlers. Mad but true. Especially when I finished up, as I always did, by telling him how Mike and I fell so in love with every little part of him that we couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t let him go. ‘And you’re alright, love?’ I finished. ‘You know. About Connor being here?’
He nodded through half-closed lids. ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Honest. You’d never manage him without me in any case, would you?’
I gave him a last kiss and conceded he was probably right.
It’s amazing what a couple of glasses of wine and a DVD can do to restore your flagging spirits, because the next morning Mike and I were both feeling positive and energetic. ‘We’ll pack the car up, whatever the weather decides to chuck at us,’ Mike had suggested. ‘Just drive out to the country, have a picnic, play football, feed the ducks, or the swans, or whatever they have there. Make a day of it. Tire the little tyke right out.’
I’d agreed, so we were now doing exactly that; preparing and packing a huge picnic, hunting down old trainers and right-size wellies, and throwing bats, balls and buckets into bags. If containment it was to be then we’d do just that, via the perhaps unlikely but probably easier option of containing him in the great outdoors.
We’d not heard another peep from EDT and didn’t expect to. As things stood the plan still was for them to have him collected on Monday morning, a plan I imagined they’d confirm at some point on Sunday night. ‘But what if they don’t?’ I said to Mike while the boys were upstairs dressing. ‘Or what if they tell us it might take another few days?’
In truth, the thought that had been forming in my own mind overnight was that if it did take a few more days, it wouldn’t be a major problem. With Ty going off on his footie course on the Monday morning, I could devote all my energies to Connor, at least for a couple of days. Better that, I’d pretty much decided, than have him dragged off somewhere horrible – some grim secure unit in the middle of nowhere. And with the kind of fostering Mike and I usually did, I knew about such places, and with the kind of file Connor had, I knew it was highly likely – particularly given the violent incident – that a grim secure unit might be exactly where he would be headed. Unless they had the luxury of a few more precious days to track down a carer with a tad more positivity.
Mike turned towards me. ‘You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, Case?’ he asked, looking pointedly at me.
‘Well, um, no, but, yes, but … oh, I don’t know,’ I confessed, feeling scrutinised. ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, love, shall we?’
‘Blimey,’ Tyler said, having bowled into the kitchen. ‘We camping for a week or summat? How much food is in this bag?’
Saved by the proverbial bell.