I accused her, in that call, of matching us deliberately. Of knowing. Of doing something extraordinary and secret and unforgivable with two families’ worst day.
And she let me finish — which took about four minutes — and then she said, very quietly: “Mrs Callow, I’ve been doing this eleven years. If I’d known, I’d have had to tell you both. And then this placement would never have happened, because nobody would have signed it off.”
Which stopped me.
Because she is right, and I have thought about it every week since.
If any adult in that process had known what we now know — if one file had crossed one desk — Immy would not be upstairs asleep. Somebody would have written the word inappropriate on a form, and they would have been right to, and she would have gone to a family in Harlan who had never heard of any of it.
