Casey Watson - Mummy, Please Don’t Leave

This book is a work of non-fiction based on the authors experiences. In order to protect privacy, names, identifying characteristics, dialogue and details have been changed or reconstructed.

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First published by HarperElement 2021

FIRST EDITION

Casey Watson 2021

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Cover layout HarperCollinsPublishers 2021

Casey Watson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780008375638

Ebook Edition April 2021 ISBN: 9780008375645

Version: 2021-03-02

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Id like to dedicate this story to all foster carers and social workers, and also to the family support workers and others who dedicate their lives to the service. As far as Im concerned, these people are some of the forgotten heroes of the terrible pandemic of 2020. Can you imagine having a houseful of troubled children, and then being told you must all be confined to the house 24/7? Teenagers who are used to going out and doing their own thing, toddlers, used to playing with their friends at the park or at nursery, and school-age children who already struggle with learning can no longer go to their place of education. All families have struggled with these problems, but for foster carers its been so much harder. Some of us barely knew the children who got locked down with us. Some of us had to report our children as missing, even though we knew they just couldnt take being locked down and had gone to meet with a friend. Its been a terrible year for everybody, but I know just how difficult it has been for my particular group of colleagues, and I salute each and every one of you. God bless, and I pray that next year is better for all of us.

As always, I need to thank my fabulous agent, Andrew Lownie, and the wonderful team at HarperCollins. Our lovely editor, Kelly Ellis, who has, as ever, been so patient with us and such a joy to work with and also Holly Blood and Georgina Atsiaris. And no thanks would be complete without my eternal gratitude to my friend and mentor, Lynne who also has the patience of a saint!

I love a challenge. I always have. And I suspect Im not alone in that. Its a basic human instinct, after all. Though on this crisp early January day, challenged to find a mermaid for a five-year-old, even I was forced to admit it might be tricky.

Mike and I were on an outing with Annie and Oscar, the twins wed fostered for a few weeks the previous year. Theyd been hard work how could a pair of lively pre-schoolers ever not be? but also enormous fun, and uncomplicated too, because they were only in care temporarily while their parents were in hospital, having both suffered serious burns during a house fire. It was our proximity to the major burns unit where they were being treated that had sealed the deal: we were able to take the children in to visit them while they recovered.

Wed kept in touch afterwards. Lovely for us, and also helpful for the family, because it meant Mum and Dad could leave the twins somewhere familiar when they returned to the hospital. Which was something they had to do on multiple occasions, for essential follow-up work. This was one such occasion and, since Mike had managed to wangle a rare midweek day off, wed taken them to the local Sea Life centre, out on the coast.

Where, apparently, there should definitely be mermaids. Well, according to Annie, who, despite the distractions of dancing jellyfish, bobbing seahorses, anemones, and seals and sharks, was destined to be cruelly disappointed. Not least by her brother, who felt it his duty to keep on remarking that mermaids werent actually real. Theyre just in stories, he pointed out with the kind of no-nonsense assurance that made it all too obvious who was going to be the one to dash another fervently held belief for her next Christmas.

But next Christmas was obviously still a long way away. And in any case, Mike had other ideas. Ah, he said, didnt you hear about the octopus?

Annie, perched on my hip, better to see into a tank of flatfish, pouted. What octopus?

The famous octopus, Mike said. The famous octopus who escaped.

From here? Oscar asked.

From another place just like this. It was all in the news. Everyone thought hed escaped all by himself which he might have because octopuses are known for being very, very clever but when they investigated further they found hed had an accomplice.

Oscar frowned. Whats an accomplice?

A helper. A special, secret helper. Whod snuck in in the middle of the night swam right up one of the big drainpipes that bring in all the sea water and undone the latch on the top of the octopuss tank, so they could slither back down the drain pipe and escape back to the sea.

But how did they know it was a mermaid? Annie asked. It could have just been another octopus, couldnt it? Or a fish.

Mike shook his head. Wouldnt have been able to undo the latch, because fish dont have fingers. Well, that is, unless they are fish fingers. And they know it was a mermaid because they found a bit of evidence. A beautiful green scale left behind from her tail.

Annies eyes widened. Can we see it?

Mike shook his head. Sadly not. They have to keep it in a special box, in a special vault in a museum. If they put it in the light and air pfff! it will disappear. And thats why youll never be able to see an actual mermaid. He tipped his head towards the play area and the strip of sea beyond it. But that doesnt mean they arent out there, because they are. Now then, he added with a wink. Whos for lunch? Dont know about you three but all this mermaid-hunting has made me hungry.

Youre in your element, I teased him, once we were installed in the caf and the children were colouring in the pictures in their activity books.

What, water?

No. Being here, I mean. Out with the little ones. Having fun. I nodded towards the children, heads close, deep in creative endeavour. You know, I miss this.

Mike looked confused. Miss what?

Miss doing more of this kind of thing. Miss the children. Miss the grandchildren.

Miss them? Case, were not exactly short of children and grandchildren.