TWO
AMELIE
I was anxious; every nerve in my body was pulled so tight I expected something to snap at any moment. Waiting to meet the family I would be living with was a big deal, and so I wasn’t surprised by the chaos of my emotions.
Mrs Rook was a tall, attractive lady with the same features as my mother, minus the frown lines.
From her shiny hair and perfectly made-up face, the woman clearly took pride in her appearance, unlike my Mum, who didn’t even own a hairbrush.
I wondered how much Vanessa Rook knew about the type of blood she shared.
I watched her walk into the children’s centre with a man with the build of a mountain through the glass in the interview room.
When my social worker told me I had an aunt and how she had stepped forward and offered to care for me, I panicked.
I vaguely remembered my mother mentioning a sister called Nessa, but I wouldn’t say she spoke of her fondly.
Then again, Louise Thorn rarely spoke well of anyone.
In the back of my mind, I had assumed Sophie and I would live with my brother. I realised now how stupidly naive those thoughts had been. In the social care system, nothing was straightforward.
I scanned the regal-looking female warily through the window.
This woman was family, and so why did I feel so terrified?
It was probably because the word ‘family’ didn’t mean the same to me as it did to other kids my age; if I could still call myself that.
It was only a few more months until I turned eighteen.
A sadness sank into my stomach at the thought of not being able to share that day with my siblings.
Even knowing that I wouldn’t see my mother, hurt.
And yet I was the one to blame for that after reporting my father to the police.
Did I regret my actions? No. Although we were not together, I knew my brother and sister were safe.
And even though I missed them every second of every day, that is what mattered the most. Well, that and justice for the poor girl my father had hit with his car.
I’d found out that she was still in intensive care.
The social services lady I had been assigned was called Kathy.
It was the name of the doomed heroine in my favourite book, Wuthering Heights.
She’d promised visits with Sophie once things had ‘settled.’ Whatever that meant.
In my experience, things only ever settled when you were dead, like our dog Max.
He used to bark like crazy whenever someone came to the house.
That’s why my father put him out of his misery: his words, not mine.
Max’s lifeless body had been wrapped in an old blanket and put in the cellar.
The door that led down there was eventually nailed shut because of the smell.
So far, I’d only been able to speak with Sophie and Adam individually online, and it wasn’t the same. The fact that my sister had now been diagnosed and would struggle with a severe health condition for the rest of her life was another blow.
Running shaky hands over my hair, I hoped I looked OK.
The social care housing where I had lived for the last nine weeks had showers, a sanctuary of hot water.
I’d been able to clean my body for the first time in months.
The shampoo they had given me smelled like coconuts, and I had loved massaging it through the ends of my hair.
When considering the living conditions I had come from, the centre wasn’t so bad.
That first night, when I had returned to the bedroom I had been allocated, there were clean clothes laid out for me: cotton underwear, some grey jogging bottoms, a white T-shirt, and a navy hoodie.
I’d pulled the clothes up to my nose and inhaled that soft, inviting, clean odour. It was still a smell I didn’t trust.
They even had mirrors in the bathroom, too.
As I had studied my body in the glass, I looked so different from the last time I had looked.
Compared to the girls I saw on YouTube, I knew I was on the thin side, but I had hips and boobs now.
Being on the cusp of womanhood should have been an exciting time, but all I felt was uncertainty.
Kathy had been super nice to me, saying how pretty I was and something else about boys, which I had disregarded.
The only boys I had ever been interested in were those I watched in pop bands on the internet.
Our father owned a tablet, and we’d borrow it when he was passed out drunk so we could watch stuff.
It was also interesting to see how different everyone else's lives were from ours.
Those clips are the only thing that forced me to realise that life with my mother and father was not how it was supposed to be.
When I was younger, things had been different. We’d left the house for holidays and stuff, but ever since my father lost his job and started drinking, everything changed. Those days were like distant memories now.
“Amelie?” Kathy’s voice waded into my thoughts. “Are you ready to meet your aunt?”
Mrs Rook and the man I assumed would be her husband were now standing directly outside the room like statues.
They both looked nervous, and that made me feel slightly better.
This clearly wasn’t a straightforward situation for them either.
If they were worried, they had to care. And they must have been safe people to live with.
They had been thoroughly vetted by the social care system, that very place that had saved my siblings and me.
But had it really? Maybe life on the outside would be worse.
I remembered Kathy saying something about a local school. The idea of going back to school was now terrifying to me, having not mixed with other kids for years. I had only spent a short time in high school, and my experience of primary school was hazy at best.
I tried to push away the thoughts of my mother and father’s arrest from my mind, but it was impossible.
You did the right thing, my conscience kept chanting.
If I hadn’t called the police about my father’s car, they would never have busted into our house and seen the conditions we had been forced to live in.
As we had waited for social services that night, the lady police officer had tears in her eyes.
She had been the one to help Sophie out of our bedroom to get the medical attention she needed.
It hadn’t taken the medics long to establish that my sister had Type 1 Diabetes.
They explained to Adam and me that they were surprised she had survived for so long without the necessary interventions.
It was suggested that she developed it the year prior.
I wondered why they hadn’t picked that up the night my mother and I rushed Sophie to the hospital.
“OK, are you good?” Kathy added as I pushed slowly to my feet, my hands hidden in the sleeves of my hoodie.
“I think so. Did my brother call?” I asked, knowing the answer when her face dropped. I hadn’t spoken to Adam for over two weeks.
“No, sweetie. But I’m sure he’s fine. At our last catch-up, he was looking for a job.
He knows you're in safe hands and will be given your new address and contact details soon.” Adam wasn’t in care.
He’d gone to live with one of our neighbours in their spare room until he could get a place of his own.
He was almost twenty and so considered an adult.
I didn’t understand why I couldn’t live with him straight away.
I imagined that’s what would happen when he’d sorted himself out.
My brother was scarred inside and out, but he wouldn’t leave my sister or me, not for long.
“Fine. And I must stay with these people? I can’t just stay here?” I asked in a small voice, flicking my head towards the strange couple at the other side of the glass.
“No, honey. This isn’t the place for you.” She was wrong. I had been the happiest I’d been in years there. I’d even made a few friends. And now I was being handed over to another set of strangers.
I’d been told that the Rook family had kids my age, but I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
And then the time for dwelling was over. Kathy’s hand was a heavy weight on my shoulder as she led me out of the room. The glass was mirrored on the outside, so the people I would call my guardians hadn’t seen me yet.
As I stepped out into the hallway, they both turned to look at me. And their expressions were not that of disgust or impatience, but of awe.
Vanessa a.k.a. Nessa Rooks kind-looking face crumpled into a mass of raw sympathy.
She stepped toward me with a hand raised at an awkward angle. “Amelie. Hello sweetie. I’m Vanessa, Louise’s sister. I’m so pleased to meet you—finally.” I didn’t like her calling me sweetie when we had literally just met. “I’m so sorry.”
Her voice was deep and breathy, and that apology was so sincere. That acid in my stomach started to settle.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I shot her a fragile smile. I felt Kathy give my shoulder an encouraging squeeze.
After her odd, uncertain wave, she lowered her hand and held it out to me, and I peered down at it. After a glance at Kathy, who gave me a reassuring nod, I lifted my own. My aunt's fingers were warm and soft as we shook hands.
My reaction seemed to please her, and she turned to the man who lingered awkwardly at her side. “Amelie,” Vanessa began, her voice croaky, “This—this is my husband, Cameron—Cameron Rook.”
He, too, stepped into my space, his shadow looming over me, and copied his wife’s gesture. “Call me, Cam.”
His wide, long fingers swallowed mine whole. He was such a large person. So much bigger than my own father. “Amelie?” he said, almost tasting my name. “Pretty name for a pretty girl. I’m so pleased to meet you, and we’re looking forward to having you come stay with us.”