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‘Yes. Pru from over the road. She’s already made it clear to me that she thinks you’re an unfit mother.’
Irene struggles into a sitting position, pushing the hair from her eyes. ‘Unfit mother? Do you really think I care what that nosey witch Pru Collinson thinks of me?’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ I clutch my head in despair. ‘Wake up, Irene! You’ll care agreat dealwhen Pru reports you to social services. And she will, I’m warning you. Especially if you carry on pulling drunken stunts like you did last night.’
‘Social services?’ She frowns, sinking back against the headboard. ‘Ooh, my head. Can you pass me some painkillers, please?’
I stare at her, wondering how I can make her see sense.
‘Tablets?’ she urges, reaching for a glass by her bed that I’m really hoping contains water.
I take the packet and pop out a couple. But before I hand them over, I sit down on the bed and look her straight in the eye. ‘Irene. Listen to me. And listen carefully. We’re going tolose Bertieif you don’t stop drinking so much.’
‘What?’ She stares at me, bewildered. ‘But Bertie’s fine. Isn’t he?’
‘Why are you asking me that?’ I laugh in disbelief. ‘You shouldknowhow Bertie is, shouldn’t you? You’re hismother!’
Just for an instant, a look of shame crosses her face.
There’s a brief, tense silence. Then she says, ‘Look, I know I’ve never exactly been in line for the mother-of-the-year award, but I love my kids,’ she says, staring down at her hands. ‘I’ve always loved my kids.’
‘Well, you have a funny way of showing it. Bertie has to rely onmeforeverything, and that’s just not right. I know you lost Dad. But wealllost him, Irene. He was my dad and he was everything to me. But we have to move on without him. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start being a proper member of this family. Otherwise, I’m warning you. You’lllose your son.’
She frowns at me. ‘Pru Collinson would never report me. She wouldn’t dare.’
‘She would,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m surprised we haven’t had a knock at the door before now, to be honest.’
‘But Bertie’s a healthy, normal little boy. I haven’t done anything wrong.’
I snort. ‘Talk about being in denial. You’ve already managed to alienate Lois by keeping the truth about her birth from her all these years... lying to her about who her father is.’ I shake my head. ‘Seriously, Irene, you might be able to take Bertie’s love for granted right now, but what about when he’s a little older and he starts to realise he’s been badly let down by the one person who’s supposed to care for him most of all?’
‘He has you,’ she says truculently. ‘And Lois.’
‘Yes. But he needsyoumost ofall.’ I stand up, glancing around the room. ‘Right, where are the bottles?’
‘What?’
‘The drinking has to stop. If it doesn’t, I’m going to apply to the courts for a kinship care order.’
‘What?’ She looks up, startled. ‘What’s a... kinship care order?’
I heave a sigh, staring at her, a great weight of sadness on my shoulders. ‘It’s when the biological parent is deemed to be unsuitable to look after their child, and a family member steps in as their guardian.’
‘You wouldn’t do that,’ she says stoutly, but I glimpse a flash of fear in her eyes.
‘You’re wrong. I would,’ I tell her firmly. ‘Things have to change around here. We either come up with a plan together, or I’m taking Bertie away from this toxic household. I mean it, Irene. We’ll move in with Gran.’ Heading for the door, I turn. ‘Have a shower. Pull yourself together. I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready to talk to me.’
I walk out, leaving the door wide open.
My legs are trembling so much at the confrontation, I’m not even sure they’ll carry me down the stairs...
*****
Not holding out much hope of Irene doing what I asked her, I get dressed and potter about, tidying up in the kitchen, thinking about the kinship care order.
Gran will be all for it, I know. She has nothing but contempt for Irene’s mothering skills. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while but I’ve been putting off doing anything about it. It’s such a drastic measure, resorting to court action, and I know for a fact that Bertie won’t like it. He loves his mum, for all her faults. And he won’t want to leave Lois, either. But if it’s in his best interests, what choice do I have?
I’ve almost resigned myself to going online for information on how to get the process started, when a noise from upstairs breaks into my desolate thoughts. It’s the sound of the shower being turned on.
