Too Scared to Tell: Part 2 of 3. Cathy GlassЧитать онлайн книгу.
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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 2020
FIRST EDITION
Text © Cathy Glass 2020
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Cover photograph © Johner Images/Getty 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: 9780008380380
Ebook Edition © February 2020 ISBN: 9780008380427
Version: 2020-06-09
Contents
1 Cover
2 Title Page
3 Copyright
4 Contents
5 Chapter Ten: Contact
6 Chapter Eleven: Not Safe
7 Chapter Twelve: Mr Nowak
8 Chapter Thirteen: Review
9 Chapter Fourteen: Distraught
10 Chapter Fifteen: They Made Me
11 Chapter Sixteen: Questioned by the Police
12 Chapter Seventeen: Sickening
13 Chapter Eighteen: Family
14 Chapter Nineteen: Therapy
15 Chapter Twenty: Family
17 About the Publisher
LandmarksCoverFrontmatter
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Chapter Ten
Whatever had happened between Roksana and Oskar to make them so cautious of each other? I wondered as I drove home from the Family Centre. It wasn’t normal. Having been separated for three weeks, neither of them had anything to say to each other and apparently felt nothing on being reunited. Or possibly they had felt plenty, but for whatever reason weren’t able to show their emotions, with neither willing to make the first move. Hopefully they were getting along better now.
I had just enough time to go home for half an hour before I had to leave to return to the Family Centre to collect Oskar. Paula arrived home while I was there and I left her instructions on when to put the fish pie I’d made earlier into the oven so it would be ready for dinner.
I arrived at the Family Centre five minutes early, signed the Visitors’ Book and then waited in the corridor. I knew that every minute was precious to families who are separated, so I never interrupted before their time was up. As I waited, I could hear children’s voices coming from other contact rooms and a baby crying. At exactly 5.30 p.m. I continued along the corridor to Green Room. The door was closed, so I knocked and went in. The silence hit me.
Andrew had gone, the contact supervisor was at the table, writing, and Oskar and his mother were sitting side by side on the sofa, close but not touching. I assumed that whatever they’d been playing with had been packed away, for clearly they hadn’t