‘What?’ I check my cell. Two missed calls from an unknown number.

‘The landline.’

The landline? Why is someone ringing me on the salon landline? Swallowing down the last of my coffee, I leave the table and walk out to the shop floor.

Elsie is tapping on the window, warning Meg of impending trouble. She’s like our personal security system, alerting us when any of the well-known bag snatchers are passing by the shop or something unusual is happening.

Meg nods at her, peering out the window at the two female suspects before handing me the phone.

‘Sally Cooper,’ the voice says.

‘Yes.’

‘I tried your mobile twice but didn’t get an answer.’

‘Who is this?’

‘Saoirse O’Neill. I’m Kenny’s social worker.’

I don’t know how they do it, specially trained in subliminal bullying. The one thing I promised myself I wasn’t going to do was meet that social worker. After two minutes on the phone with her, I’m suggesting venues.

Saoirse O’Neill is standing and waving at me from the last booth in the corner of the café when I arrive. She’s younger than I expected with blonde hair and a pretty face. The blue jacket with the white furry collar that she has resting on the seat beside her is similar to one I picked up for Amber in Penny’s last week. It’s hard to take someone half my age with a tattoo on their neck seriously. But seriously I must because this young woman is about to cast judgement on the rest of my life whether I like it or not.

I sit facing her, opening the buttons on my jacket but not removing it. I don’t want her to think I’m staying here long.

She beckons at a waiter who is standing in the corner.

‘Coffee?’ she says to me, watching every step the young man makes. His lack of speed must be irritating her. Her own mug is almost empty. She must have been here early, making sure she could seat us discreetly, so she can bully me without the other customers in the café hearing.

I nod at her and immediately explain that I can’t stay long. I have to pick the boys up from the crèche. It’s a lie. Tom is picking them up, but I need to be able to take myself out of this situation the minute it gets too much for me. My plan is to listen to what she has to say, tell her that I don’t think it’s right to ask us to take a young man into our home who we know nothing about. I’ll say ‘man’, it sounds more dangerous than ‘kid’.