Page 50 of The Dead Ex

‘We won’t know until the trial, love. We just have to be patient.’

It was so cold that night. Scarlet put the scratchygrey blanket over her head, cuddling the pillow for comfort and trying to keep warm. The next morning, Darren nudged her in the queue for the toilet. ‘You’re coming out with us today.’

They went to a different centre this time. All Scarlet had to do was to go into this small shop with Dawn and say she felt sick. It would be good if she could really make herself puke so it would look more real.While Scarlet was making the ‘distraction’, Dawn would nick some jeans. The alarm would go because they’d have tags on them so Scarlet might have to be sick again while her friend legged it.

‘Think of something really nasty,’ Dawn advised.

So she remembered what it was like when the cops had taken her away from Mum in the park. But instead of making her sick, it made her cry. ‘What’s wrong,love?’ asked the assistant, wobbling up to her. She had very shiny pale-green shoes with tall, thin heels.

Then the alarm went, and Scarlet sobbed even more, just as she’d been told. By the time the lady got to the door, falling over her shoes, Dawn had gone.

‘Where’s your friend?’

That was when she ran too. Somehow they got back without being nicked. But Mrs W was waiting, arms folded.

‘Aboutbloody time. I’ve had the school on the phone, wanting to know why you’re not at Saturday club.’

‘It was her,’ said Dawn quickly. ‘Scarlet felt sick so we came back early. But you wasn’t in so we had to hang around.’

‘Well, don’t do it again, or I’ll have the Social on my back, and then you’ll all be out.’

‘Maybe they’ll send us somewhere nicer, then,’ muttered Dawn.

‘What’s that?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Go to your room and wait there till I say you can come down.’

Gratefully Scarlet ran up the stairs after her friend. ‘The boys will sell the jeans on.’ Dawn gave her a high five. ‘You’re definitely one of us now.’

Was that a good thing or bad? But she was given a whole bag of crisps from the store under the bed as a ‘reward’. Cheese and onion. Her favourite.

Nearly a week went by. To her relief,the others didn’t make her play any more games. They needed to ‘lie low’, according to the whispers from Dawn’s bed at night.

‘Your social worker rang, Scarlet,’ sniffed Mrs W as she put their tea on the table. ‘She’s picking you up on Saturday afternoon to see your mum.’

Scarlet jumped off her chair with excitement.

‘Get back at the table. There’s another thing, too. Your mum’s got her pinnumbers approved now by the prison.So she’s going to ring you in a bit.’ Mrs W sniffed. ‘Seven o’clock on the dot. Very inconvenient.’

This was when Mrs W watched her favourite programme on telly in her private lounge. They all had to be upstairs by then, getting ready for lights out. But that night, Scarlet was allowed to stay downstairs, waiting by the phone in the hall. It was warmer thanusual because, according to Dawn, the Walters raised the downstairs heating when she and the other foster kids had gone to bed.

‘Scarlet’s jailbird mum is late,’ snapped Mrs W. ‘Reggie. You’ll have to wait with her.’

Reggie was Mr W’s real name.

He frowned. ‘Why?’

‘Cos you’ve got to make sure the kid doesn’t say something she shouldn’t.’ Then there was a whisper.

When the phone rang, Scarletjumped, even though she’d been waiting for it. ‘Mum?’

‘Scarlet!’

Mum’s voice sounded different. Sharper. ‘Is there anyone with you?’

Mr W was pressing numbers on his mobile phone with his fat fingers.