‘And?’
‘Well, he did all heshouldn’t have been doingon his bike. The police confiscated it as… you know…?’
‘No, Idon’t know. What?’
Sorrel sighed audibly. ‘Jess,you’vegiven him the ability to be working again. He can’t deliver the goods without a set of wheels.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Sorrel, Joel’s back at school working for his GCSEs like you are. Working hard for his part inGreaseas was the deal with him coming here to stay.’
‘Where’s he getting his money from?’ she asked.
‘How d’you know he’s got any?’
‘Well, I don’t. I just worry. I didn’t, you know,worry, when he was away from it all over in Castleford with his aunt. And when I knew he was safe with you…’
‘Heissafe with me,’ I said.
‘…especially knowing there are so few buses out to our place and it’s too far to walk into either the village or into town…’ Sorrel continued. ‘But you’ve now given him a way out.’
‘You’ve got to trust him, Sorrel,’ I said. ‘Give the lad a chance.’
‘S’pose. It’s just that he’s not been in touch really.’
‘I know. He told me.’
‘Cosy chats over mugs of Ovaltine before bed?’
I laughed at that. ‘Yes,actually. I know Joel thinks a lot of you, but he needs you to get on with your new life. Without any interference from him. And it’s nice to have him to chat to. Now that Lola thinks she’s at least fourteen and in need of a bra, I’m suddenly the Wicked Witch of the West. No cosy chats there any more…’
‘Get her one,’ Sorrel interrupted.
‘What? A mug of Ovaltine?’
‘A bra!’ Sorrel sniffed. ‘Nothing worse than bouncing around with an out-of-control bosom’ – (I was so glad she didn’t say boobs or, even worse, tits) – ‘when the boys are sniggering behind your back at school.’
‘She’s Year 6 for heaven’s sake,’ I protested.
‘Boys know what it’s all about at junior school, these days.’
‘It’s on my list of things to do,’ I said, slightly put out that I didn’t appear to be up to the mark as an actual mother as well as a foster mother.
‘The White House taking up all your time?’ Sorrel asked.
‘Something like that. As well as looking after Joel and Arthur,’ I added, still smarting at what I construed to be criticism of my maternal skills.
‘So, where’s Lola now? She was always round at our place when you were working at Hudson House. In fact, Lola, really, was more like my little sister than my niece. You know?’
‘I know. I do know. She’s got a new best friend. Big posh house: you know how easy it is to be influenced by material stuff when you’re that age.’
‘Still is.’ Sorrel laughed. ‘One of the boys here – Stefan – has his own car. A little two-seater. Says he’ll take me out for a spin in it.’
A spin? Did kids Sorrel’s age actually still use that word? Obviously, they did.
‘His parents live in Chelsea… In fact, d’you know who his parents are?’ Sorrel’s voice was full of awe.
‘Go on.’
‘Bella McDonald and Jason Sandwell!’ she said proudly, naming two of the most well-known names in British films today. ‘Stefan’s already got a place at RADA.’
