Chapter One

IT’S NOVEMBER TODAY. I HATE NOVEMBER. Two years ago, in November, my dad ran off. A year ago, Mam stopped eating and started slipping away. She got the sack from the travel agency in town, and I caught her talking to the TV when it wasn’t even switched on. She had the idea that it was talking back. There was just her and me, and I felt I was drowning. I’m only fourteen, so what could I do to help?

I tried to tell Miss at school. I’d always thought she was okay, but in the end, she was only interested that I wasn’t wearing the uniform socks and that I hadn’t got my homework in on time. When I told her about Mam, she frowned and said I was making excuses. I needed to stick to the rules, whatever was happening at home. If I had real problems, I should talk to pupil welfare.

But pupil welfare is run by Mrs Saltburn, and she hates me, because she takes RE and I told her that I couldn’t believe in a God that allows war and famine and anyway, what about the climate emergency?

‘Salvation is an academy with a Christian ethos, Chloe. That was made clear before your parents chose it as your place of education.’

I wanted to tell her that I was getting into Wicca, which made far more sense to me, but then I’d have been in detention for the rest of the week. Also, that my parents put Salvation at the top of the list because the only other school in the catchment is Birks Comp, and a year nine kid got stabbed there, and the GCSE results are shite. But then she would have said I was being cheeky and that would have got me detention too.

Now it’s November again. Mam’s back in hospital, and I’m having to live here: Rosebank Home for the teenage kids nobody wants. I don’t blame Mam. She’s ill. And Dad’s not even in the country. Apparently, he’s in Dubai, making a fortune selling fancy apartments to rich people. He’s not answering my calls or texts and I’m not even sure I’ve got the right number for him. Maybe he has a new woman in his life. A new family. Maybe he doesn’t need me anymore. So I have tried talking to Miss and to Dad, and I’m not going to bother with Nana and Grandpa. They’ve always hated Mam and taken Dad’s side and when I talk, they don’t seem to hear. Nana’s like Miss – only bothered about what I’m wearing and what I look like.

BUT NOBODY LISTENS.

That’s not fair. Josh listens. But he’s only agency staff and he’s not here all the time. He listens when I tell him about the pervy guy waiting in his car outside the home – though maybe I was wrong about that – and that Brad Russell is like some sort of gangster in a crap movie, wearing that stupid parka even indoors, and dealing crack, and that I’m scared because there’s no lock on my door. I’m not sure if Josh passes on the information though, or if anyone listens to him.

Josh told me to keep this diary to let out my thoughts and feelings, and we go through it when he’s working and when he has time. Mostly he works in the evenings and at weekends. Today’s Sunday, so he should be here, covering for Jan who’s got the weekend off, but with agency staff you never know. Agency staff cost money, so someimes Dave has to manage and it’s just him and Tracey sleeping in. I don’t think Dave minds when it’s just the two of them.

Josh was supposed to have a shift tonight, and I thought I saw his car draw up. I was looking out of the window, watching out for him. Usually, I can see the light at the end of the quay where the coal ships used to tie up, and the big container ships heading for the docks, and the ghost ships with no crew lurking on the horizon, but it’s misty, with that drizzle that feels like a heavy fog. I can’t see anything. It’s as if this house is on its own in the world, as if I’m on my own in the world and nobody would care if I died. Sometimes I dream about killing myself, then I think about Josh. It seems to me that he might care.

This place is worse than the bin where Mam’s locked up. It’s worse than prison.

Miss said I could be someone special when I started at Salvation, and my SATs were good. That was when Dad was still at home, and he came with Mam to parents’ evening. She said I could be a poet or a songwriter. Then everything went wrong at home, and I couldn’t concentrate, and I couldn’t sleep. Miss didn’t care about me anymore. Salvation only cares about the swotty kids who can make the school look good. When I got taken into care, I could tell they hoped I’d have to move to a new school, but the home’s still in the catchment, and social services said I’d had enough disruption already, so they have to put up with me.

I might go down and meet Josh. We could go through the diary in the kitchen, and then he’ll play cards with me if he’s not too busy. The others are watching a film in the lounge. Tracey made them pizza and popcorn. But I’d rather play cards with Josh.

I think I could be in love with him.



Chapter Two

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR VERA STANHOPE LOOKED UP from the teenager’s scrawl.

‘It’s got today’s date. Chloe must have written it this evening.’

The manager of the children’s home was faded, dusty. He had grey hair tied back in a ponytail. He seemed well out of his depth. Vera had seen the same ashamed look in some of her older colleagues’ eyes: the people who were desperate to retire, but who couldn’t quite make the jump. Because what would be the point of getting up in the morning if there were no work, nothing to get out of bed for? These were the lonely people, the bored ones, the introverts. Vera knew how they felt. She had no desire to retire, not even now when she felt like a failure. Especially now. Work was a kind of penance. They’d have to push her out.