The Care System

Chapter One

Alice's least favourite place in the world was the restroom at the Wooley Edge Service Station along the M1. When she was eight years old her mother, father and Alice herself had stopped off on their way back from a show in London. Alice's parents had taken her to a very posh restaurant as a treat. Alice was sure that it was a treat designed only for adults; that her parents were playing a practical joke on their only daughter. She had gazed at the menu that seemed to be more in French than English and demanded that her parents took her somewhere more normal. Her parents had refused, calling Alice ungrateful and blaming her for ruining their evening. Bitterly, Alice had order something called Moules Frites in a white wine sauce. It had tasted as bad as it had sounded to the young girl. On the way home, Alice's stomach had started to feel funny and before she knew it she was vomiting in the back of her father's BMW. When she had finally reached the bathroom in the Wooley Edge Service Station it was too late to rescue her pretty baby-blue dress. Alice had refused to let her parents stop at that service station ever since.

Alice's second least favourite place in the world was the Brotherton Wing at Leeds General Infirmary and it was gaining quickly on the Wooley Edge Service Station. Alice stood in the centre of the cafeteria and poured a sachet of coffee into her paper cup. She felt people brush past her as she stared blankly into the middle-distance; watching everything and nothing at the same time. Anyone watching the young girl might think that she was a patient conserving her energy for a long road of recovery. In truth, Alice found herself standing still increasingly often, if she stood still and silent the world no longer felt like it was slipping out from underneath her feet. She put the coffee cup to her lips and felt the coarse grains brush against her lips; she had forgotten to add water again. There was a short queue in front of the water machine as it was early evening, the most convenient of the hospital's visiting hours, but Alice didn't mind; it gave her another chance to stand still.

The room that Alice's mother had been placed in overlooked the carpark. When Alice visited her mother, as she had done every day since the accident, she watched the cars come and go, judging their parking skills even though she didn't know how to drive. The doctors said it could be helpful to talk to her mother and suggested reading her a book. Alice and her mother had very different tastes in literature, so Alice described the cars that drove past their window instead.

"There goes a yellow Nissan. It's got one of those cliché pine-shaped air fresheners."

"That was a near miss. I'm not sure he can actually see out his mirror, he's quite short."

"Blue car. Red car. Silver car."

And on she went.

Alice was more distracted today than she usually was. Her social worker had informed her that morning that they'd found some more permanent accommodation. Alice hated that word, permanent, as if anything other than her mother could possibly be permanent. Such a simple word made her eyes sting. She'd be quite happy living on her own until her mother woke up, but Sandra – Alice's plump social worker – said that she was a minor and had to have an adult looking after her until her eighteenth birthday in the summer. It was left unspoken that Alice might well turn eighteen without her mother and enter the adult world an orphan; the thought made Alice shudder. Money wouldn't be an issue, the banks would take care of that, and she'd go off to university, live the rest of her life and become successful. The dreams that Alice had carried with her since childhood seemed hollow now. A tear began to trickle down her face echoing the weather outside the hospital window.

"Alice?" Sandra's voice called from the hallway. Alice hastily rubbed the liquid from her face and turned away from the rainy carpark.

"Good. You're here," said Sandra, although it was highly unlikely that Alice wasn't going to be there, "We're leaving now."