A Dark Secret
Just when Casey thinks her foster care duties are done, she’s asked to look after Sam, a troubled nine-year-old with a violent streak who drove his previous guardians to release him of their care. It soon unfolds, however, that this is no simple case.Determined to get to the root of Sam’s behaviour, Casey is committed to uncover his mysterious past only to find out something far darker than she ever imagined…Having recently said goodbye to their last foster child, Miller, the Watson family are taking a bit of a break. But it’s while Casey is having fun catching up with her friends that she receives a call from her new link worker. Social services are desperately trying to find a settled home for nine-year-old Sam, who has Autism and some serious behavioural problems.Removed from his mother less than a week ago, Sam has been staying with respite carers. But with two young children of their own, they now find themselves unable to hold on to the little boy as he is bullying them relentlessly. It’s not an isolated situation, either. Apparently Sam’s own siblings begged not to be placed with their older brother – they were both adamant that they were too afraid of him.The Watsons agree to accommodate Sam, who, despite his tiny stature, turns out to be quite the whirlwind – destroying anything and everything in his path. In addition to the outward behaviours, it quickly becomes evident that there is a much darker past that has blighted the boy’s life. As Casey tries to get to the bottom of it, she discovers there are no files on Sam; only the testament of his previous neighbour. Thankfully, Mrs Gallagher is only too happy to help. And to talk. But it soon transpires that there is a great deal more to Sam’s secret history…
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This book is a work of non-fiction based on the author’s experiences. In order to protect privacy, names, identifying characteristics, dialogue and details have been changed or reconstructed.
HarperElement
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First published by HarperElement 2019
FIRST EDITION
© Casey Watson 2019
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
Cover image © Clive Nolan/Trigger Image (posed by model)
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Casey Watson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780008298616
Ebook Edition © May 2019 ISBN: 9780008298654
Version: 2019-03-28
Contents
1 Cover
2 Title Page
3 Copyright
4 Contents
5 Dedication
6 Acknowledgements
7 Chapter 1
8 Chapter 2
9 Chapter 3
10 Chapter 4
11 Chapter 5
12 Chapter 6
13 Chapter 7
14 Chapter 8
15 Chapter 9
16 Chapter 10
17 Chapter 11
18 Chapter 12
19 Chapter 13
20 Chapter 14
21 Chapter 15
22 Chapter 16
23 Chapter 17
24 Chapter 18
25 Chapter 19
26 Chapter 20
27 Chapter 21
28 Chapter 22
29 Chapter 23
30 Chapter 24
31 Chapter 25
32 Epilogue
33 Also by Casey Watson
35 About the Publisher
LandmarksCoverFrontmatterStart of ContentBackmatter
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This book is dedicated to the army of passionate foster carers out there, each doing their bit to ensure that our children are kept as safe as possible in such a changing and often scary world. As technology is reinvented and becomes ever more complicated for those of us who were not brought up amid such advances, we can only try to keep up, in the hope that we continue to learn alongside our young people.
I remain endlessly grateful to my team at HarperCollins for their continuing support, and I’m especially excited to see the return of my editor, the very lovely Vicky Eribo, and look forward to sharing my new stories with her. As always, nothing would be possible without my wonderful agent, Andrew Lownie, the very best agent in the world in my opinion, and my grateful thanks also to the lovely Lynne, my friend and mentor forever.
Aqua aerobics in February. In February. Had I completely lost my marbles? I couldn’t remember which of my so-called friends had suggested it, but by now I was sorely regretting having agreed to it. Not only was it absolutely Baltic outside, but I had just suffered the most embarrassing incident ever, and as we huddled in our respective changing cubicles in the leisure centre (which were only marginally less Baltic) the same so-called friends – not to mention my sister Donna – were still teasing me about it relentlessly.
‘Oh, Casey,’ Donna said, laughing, ‘such a priceless Barbara Windsor moment!’
‘I must, I must, improve my bust!’ my friend Kate added, gleefully.
And all I could do was take the teasing, and grin and bear it. Or should that have been ‘bare’ it? Definitely. It was such a basic error, after all.
Having not gone swimming in any form for a good couple of years now, I no longer had a suitable swimsuit, and given that this wasn’t the time of year for ‘summer holiday essentials’, the stores didn’t have a great deal of choice. Luckily I had spotted a sale rail and found a front-fastening, gold (of all colours) bikini. And were that not enough to mark me out as a rookie, during a rather robust arms-out-to-the side-and-do-a-windmill thrust, my all-singing, all-dancing, shimmering gold bikini had unclasped with a ping, giving me no choice but to do a duck dive, and leaving me scrabbling around under the water, trying to regain both the shreds of my bikini top and my dignity. But not before the whole class, including the instructor, had witnessed it. I was going to have to seriously rethink how I approached this whole ‘me time’ malarkey.
