Finding Stevie: Part 1 of 3. Cathy Glass
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Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.
HarperElement
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First published by HarperElement 2019
FIRST EDITION
Text © Cathy Glass 2019
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Cover photograph © Mark Owen/Trevillion Images (posed by a model)
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780008324292
Ebook Edition © February 2019 ISBN: 9780008324322
Version: 2019-07-11
Contents
Chapter One: Struggling to Cope
Chapter Two: Difficult Meeting
Chapter Four: Straight Talking
Chapter Seven: Quiet and Withdrawn
Chapter Eight: Error of Judgement
A big thank you to my family; my editors, Carolyn and Holly; my literary agent, Andrew; my UK publishers HarperCollins, and my overseas publishers who are now too numerous to list by name. Last, but definitely not least, a big thank you to my readers for your unfailing support and kind words. They are much appreciated.
Chapter One
‘… and he’s gender-fluid,’ Edith continued. ‘So together with all his behavioural problems his grandparents don’t feel they can look after him any longer.’
‘No, quite, I can see that’s rather a lot to cope with,’ I sympathised. ‘His grandparents must be stretched to the limit, looking after his younger brother and sister too.’
‘So you’ll take him?’ Edith asked. She was my supervising social worker, employed by the local authority to supervise and support their foster carers, of which I was one. She’d just been telling me about Steven, who liked to be known as Stevie. Aged fourteen, he needed a foster home as – according to his grandparents – he was confrontational, moody, withdrawn, stayed out late, didn’t do as they told him, wasn’t going to school and was generally making their lives a complete misery.
‘So I’ll tell his social worker you’ll take him,’ Edith said, slightly impatient at my hesitation.
‘Yes, but I have a question.’
‘Go on.’
‘What does gender-fluid mean?’ I asked reluctantly, not wanting to appear ignorant and make a fool of myself. ‘Is he gay?’
‘Not sure,’ she said. ‘I think it’s mainly to do with whether he is male or female, but his social worker will be able to tell you more. It’s not a problem for you, is it?’
‘No.’
‘Good. I’ll tell his social worker to phone you. They want to move Stevie as quickly as possible.’
‘How quickly?’
‘Within the next few days.’
‘All right.’
‘And you had a good Christmas?’ Edith asked. It was 27 December and the first day back at work for many.
‘Yes, thank you, and you?’
‘Busy.’
We said goodbye and I replaced the handset on its base in the hall. Our Christmas had been a good one, although it was the first since my father had passed away and, as anyone who has lost a loved one knows, the first Christmas and their birthday can be rather emotional. But my family and I had enjoyed ourselves for Dad’s sake; a child at heart, he always loved Christmas.
‘Was