The mysterious man...

Chapter 1

They came for me at 6.47pm. I made a note of this time because I'd been waiting for this moment for thirteen years, one month and five days and I wanted always to remember it - the hour my life began...

It was still dark but I was already awake. Already packed. My suitcase neatly packed - two of everything expect underwear which I had seven pairs. One pair of knickers and bras for each day of the week, as ordered by Matron. I sighed and pulled back the curtain beside my bed. My window once was facing the rolling, flower-filled landscape that had given Sylvan Meadow Children's home its name, but that was before a Health and Safety official decided that nature presented danger. Now, I looks out onto a carpark and a Tarmac playground with a couple of swings.

I had been to some foster homes which had gardens the size of football pitches, packed with roses, ancient oak and decorative features like bird baths and love seats. One even had a swimming pool! I've been to houses run like army units and another's that smelled of incense and had a mum who sprinkled patchouli oil everywhere and a dad with hair down to his waist. And yet none of them had felt right.

The shortest time i 've has ever lasted in a foster home was half a day, but that was because I refused to spend a night in a house of a women who kept a chihuahua in her hangbag.

"You're too fussy," scolded Matron "Life is full of compromises. You have to give people a chance. Its her choice if she wants to keep her dog in her bag."

"Yes," I said. "And its my choice not to be around people who treat animals as if they're toys with no feelings. Its also my choice if i don't want to eat tofu seven nights a week."

Matron put her hands on her generous hips. "What is it you're wanting? what's going to make you happy? A castle on a hill with a Mini Cooper parked outside?"

"What i want," I said,"is to have a life filled with excitement.

"Be careful what you wish for!" cautioned Matron.

"Why?" I asked, because I know that nothing raised adults' blood pressure faster than challenging their states truths. They hated the inconvenient questions such as: 'why is the reason for that rule?' Or: Why has it taken social services thirteen years to find that I have an uncle living by the sea in Cornwall who is willing to adopt me?

Finally my personal favourite: 'Why do I have to go to bed at 9pm whiles you are aloud to say up to midnight, when I'm young and full of energy and you're old, stressed and have big bag under your eyes (out of consideration for people feelings, I didn't usually say the last part out loud), the men and women in my life were most likely to reply: 'because I said so.'

The funny thing about grown-ups is they don't know how do answer you question. They pretend they do. They say the first thing that pops into there head and hope they have gotten away with it.

"Most children grow out of the 'why' phrase when they're toddlers," said Matron, who often declared herself worn down to her last nerve by Sophie's questioning. "They learn to accept the answers grown-ups give them. They understand that we know best."

I stared at her unblinking. "why?"

I had difficulty accepting that grown ups did know best. In fact I sometimes thought the average ten year old was more smarter than a adult.

As far as I was concerned, if grown ups were as smart as they liked to believe they are, then my mother would have remembered to ask the contact details of man she had sex with. So, I would have now know who my father was!

And if they were that smart, Doctors might have been able to save my mother from dying on the day she gave birth to me, and Social Services would have not have taken thirteen years to discover that I had an uncle, my mum's brother, which means that I wouldn't have had to spend more than a decade stuck in Sylvan Meadows or shuttling between foster homes.

Now, it seemed, the waiting was over.

There was a knock at the door. I lifted a sliver-framed photograph off my bedside table. It showed an young women with fine brown hair, pale skin and green eyes. She was smilling. People who saw the picture always told me, I was the image of my mother. I kissed it, packed it carefully between my clothes and closed my suitcase.

The knock came again. "Sophie? Sophie, are you awake? Hurry now. You have a long journey ahead of you."

I took a last look around the simple room that had been the centre of my universe almost my whole life.

"I'm ready," I said.