Author’s note:: this is a first draft, so I’m very open to feedback at this stage but I do want to say thusfar I’m really happy with the direction this is going. Many more parts are on the way, though I can’t be sure how long this will run.

This is based very heavily on a sort of fantasy I had growing up, and I had a bit of a whim to pursue it. I’m American, unfortunately, but everyone knows magic takes place in London. The story is set there, so if there are inconsistencies in that sphere that conflict heavily enough, please inform me but bear in mind it is a story. It’s probably not going to start all that accurately par for the US foster system either.

Anyway— for all of us kids who befell ourselves into precarious situations. Let’s begin.

 It was a very sleepy morning in London on Tuesday April 14th at 7:05, 1998. The clouds outside had lost their pinkish tinge from the sun rising a little under an hour earlier, and it was indeed the sort of morning that dragged on, as though it too didn't want to start after the Easter Holiday. Carla Pemberton was running behind today, about five minutes behind, which meant she was in fact for her own tendencies running a few minutes ahead of schedule.

 Carla was a mousy looking woman with brown hair and pale grey eyes, about in her fourties', and kindly enough but tired all the time. This wasn't too far out of the norm for anyone in Carla's occupation; she worked for the Department of Children and Family Services, or the office of DCFS as it was commonly known. She'd worked in the placement of foster children for approximately eleven years, and it was about as grueling work emotionally as anyone could think of. Carla frequently lost herself to fretting on the train in to the office, trying her best not to think too hard about the case she'd finished the night before- whatever it may have been- and it's unsightly details. Children, as it turns out, are rather vulnerable people, and as far as Carla had experienced, they were quite good at befalling themselves into precarious situations.



 For all of its flaws, Carla cared deeply about her job and the work she did during it, as did a grand majority of her coworkers. It is, however, like any other job wherein; overworked and tired people make a great number of mistakes. Some very grave, and some very minor, but those lines seem to blur a bit when one is sleep deprived from fretting as Carla was today.

 The light clicks of echoing heels sounded all around the great big grey lobby of the DCFS office as Carla squeezed in through the door which was regrettably only revolving in a metaphorical sense. The other women Carla worked with scurried about to their respective elevators, down corridors, and into each other's offices to chatter about as they clocked in and began to work for the day. Women took a grand majority of positions in this department, for one reason or another, it seemed that most people felt more comfortable with that bias in place. Shuffling through the noisy lobby into the first floor corridor on the right hand side, Carla breathlessly hot footed her way to her own office. She shut the door behind her, and leaned against it for a moment before picking up her punch card and stamping it on the individual punch clock mounted on the wall. Her shoulders slumped a bit in her moment to catch her breath, and when she turned to look at her desk that had been clean the night before at 6 o'clock, she frowned to discover three new files sitting atop her computer monitor. All were marked with a pink post-it note that had scrawled diagonally from corner to corner 'URGENT PLACEMENT!'



 _They'll have to wait just a few more minutes,_ Carla thought as she unshouldered her bag and pressed her hair into place after taking off her scarf and coat. _I can't work without a cup of tea, the children need me in my right mind._

__

 "Efficiency makes for happy faces! No one likes to be kept waiting around, don't give the littles any _time_ to worry!" She could hear her supervisor, Maxim Black chirping about in the corridor now, prompting her to let out a little groan to herself.

 Maxim Black was a very jolly looking man, rotund and white haired with a toothy smile and rosy cheeks. He looked an awful lot like Santa Claus, and in fact dressed up as him the foster children's Christmas party. Carla suspected that was in no small part how he managed to land his role in this department, considering many of the children she worked with would have been frightened of older men who went from room to room shouting- no matter how jovially. It's hard enough to work with children who are already on edge, let alone doubly frightened. 



 As nice as it is to have a happy face in an office setting, there is such a complicated matter of reading the room. In the uncomfortable circumstances Carla and her coworkers needed to guide the children through day-to-day, it would be helpful to have a super who cared enough to be delicate around the office. Things were chaotic enough around here as far as she was concerned, without having an efficiency hungry Santa stand-in breathing down her neck with a smile that almost seemed too big not to be forced even a _teensy_ bit.

 But Carla sighed as she slumped into her chair, without her minuscule morning constitution to the office teapot. She would do some outrageous things to avoid hearing a cliche about busy hands or leaning and cleaning, or worse; hearing a questioning tone in regard for her care and commitment to the children she served. She almost begrudgingly flipped open the first of the urgent files. Her tea would simply have to wait.

Name: Thomas B Parthings.

Age: 13

Address: 1734 Brushwick Lane and 10th, Greater London, UK.

Description: Brown hair, green eyes, Caucasian male, heavily freckled.

Case no. 762-25-B34: Mother (Sandra J Parthings) and Father (Devon T Parthings) entered domestic dispute on 12/04/98 11:42pm, home deemed unsafe. Temporarily stationed with paternal uncle, guardianship grants and home inspection assignment needed for signage ASAP.

FO: Gambon, Samantha.

 Approved. 



 Carla didn't feel the need to read further, she tapped the keys on her keyboard to grant permission to field officer Samantha Gambon to go and visit Thomas' uncle's home, and to bring along the documents needed to sign guardianship over him on a temporary basis. If only every case were so easily rectified, Carla could be done with all three of these in five minutes and go for her morning tea feeling accomplished. She smirked to herself, thinking about the look that would undoubtably appear on Maxim's face if she'd mentioned approving three cases in a span of under twenty minutes- all before she had her morning tea. He'd find some way to 'gently' reprimand her for it, she just knew it. With every stroke of her keyboard, she could hear his laugh getting closer, and the hairs at the back of her neck stood at attention. Better move on to the next case.

Name: Jane G Cuthbert

Age: 15

Address: 600 Ainsley Road, Barnsworth, Southern Villa UK.

Description: Black hair, Brown eyes, Black female, missing pinky finger on left hand.

Case no. 572-11-C26: Discovered on 13/04/98 foster Parents (Kathrine J Henderson, Marshal M Henderson) were in violation of reg. #1217A, sub 3. hed 4s. Requests immediate replacement to living parent; Carmella N Cuthbert.

FO: Rickman, Martha.

 Bit more complicated. 

 Carla sighed before reading on, knowing she'd seen Jane Cuthbert's name pop up for replacement before. 

 As often as possible, Carla and every other worker in her department attempted to keep families together. As far as she knew it was a piece of their mission statement, though she could be wrong. The issue was, many of the times when children requested to see their parents, the parents weren't exactly in the correct capacity to see their children. So, the next best thing would be to keep a child in a stable environment for as long as possible. While it was heartbreaking to think of the implications of such a circumstance, Carla's job wasn't for her to be heartbroken at the idea of a fifteen year old girl crying out for her mother. Carla's job involved having to look at the whole picture. 

 Violation #1217A with its many sections and subheadings entailed any and all circumstances wherein a foster parent prevented sanctioned contact between a child and biological parent. Carla knew that much from Jane's file, because unfortunately, Jane had made this claim quite often before.



 "Now Jane, dear," Carla remembered in her last meeting with the young lady. "You have to understand, your mother just needs a little more time to get things in order. She'll reply to you when she can, but that can't be all the time." Carla also remembered biting her lip a little anxiously as she watched Jane sitting in the small chair across from her desk.

 Jane Cuthbert was a very sorry looking sort indeed, a tall girl with an innocent and endearing amount of baby fat that stuck to her cheeks and arms, almost like she were a tube of toothpaste that someone had squeezed and squeezed to gather all the goo into one spot. It wasn't often when Carla met with Jane that the poor girl hadn't been crying, or sulking in a very hot tempered mood. Horribly, the one thing Jane wanted more than anything in the world was the one thing that neither Carla nor the foster families could give her. 

 "I want my mother. It's been two years of this, and she's promised it would be over with for months now. I don't understand why you're keeping her from me."



 Jane wasn't unlike many of the children Carla worked with, in that she adored her own parents above all else. It didn't seem to matter what happened between them all; beatings, drug use, all manner of abuses- for the most part, children just wanted to go home. To go home, and have everything operate in some realm of normalcy. Carla didn't blame them one bit, but particularly in Jane's instance, it was a difficult ask.



 Carmella Cuthbert had been a bright young woman at a certain time, but as many people bright or not can do- she fell victim to an unfortunate set of circumstances. 

 The man Carmella happened to fall in love with, happened to not be exactly who he represented himself to be. He, in fact, happened to be one of the worst types of blokes someone like Carla could have ever imagined having a child with. 

 Drugs and alcohol were a common sight in Jane's childhood, given that her father dealt in the illegal selling of them, and Carmella had unfortunately taken to participating in the habit. They were so common that Jane had very curiously at the age of two, happened to rip open a tightly packed bag of white powder to play with while her mother was asleep on the sofa. 

 This incident cost the Cuthberts in excess of 700 pound sterling, and as punishment, Jane's father saw fit to sever Jane's little finger with a Swiss Army knife to ensure she never touched the bags of powder in the house again.

 As barbaric and disgusting a punishment it was, Jane had attested personally to its effectiveness. She never touched anything she even suspected may contain an illicit substance ever again, but that never stopped the beatings.

 Carmella stayed with the father of her child until his death, upon which time her drug habit took a turn for the worse. There were a few years of neglect that left herself and Jane in circumstances too horrible to think about, until one day for reasons that Carmella was too ashamed to admit, she simply dumped a sleepy 13 year old Jane off at the DCFS offices and drove away. 



 Contact with Carmella Cuthbert had been spotty since then, at best. Though one consistency through the process and through the several families Jane had lived with, was that Jane was convinced someone had taken her away and someone was keeping her from her mother's side. 



 As Carla considered these circumstances, she wondered if she was going to have to sit and endure again through an hour of Jane's tearful glares and shouting demands to know who is keeping her mother away from her- and why. It had happened before that Jane would attempt to send letters to Carmella, only to have them returned to the home without reply due to Carmella's frequently changing addresses. This alone was enough to prompt Jane to lodge a complaint. This is the second mistake Carla would make today, the first of course being that she didn’t stop for her morning tea.



 Denied.



 “Sorry Jane, but you’ve been through half the foster care registry, I just.. I’ll see you at the appeal.” Carla sighed deeply to herself as her fingers clicked lightly on the keyboard of her computer. It was hard to tell the children no, it never seemed to get any easier even after eleven years of service. No one enjoys telling a child that their parent doesn’t wish to see them. And it wasn’t Carla’s job to do so, not in such a direct manner, at least.



 The final file lay on her desk, looking much thinner than the others and dressed in a pink folder. Carla felt her stomach drop at the sight of it. A new case. Every month the files were color coded to give a visual reference when searching for them through massive backlogs and cabinets that stretched as far as the eye could see. January was sky blue, February red, March pink. Carla glanced at the clock on the wall, 7:32. Had she truly spent that long pouring over Jane’s file? Goodness, now she really needed a cuppa. However, only one file remained and she may as well read them all.

Name: Erin Codagh O’Quin

Age: 7

Address: 192 Deepende Wood, Surrey Hills, Tadworth RH5, UK.

Description: Blonde hair, blue eyes, Caucasian female, beauty spot under left eye.

Case no. 300-07-R51: Mother deceased est as of 09/04/98. Father unknown, no known living relatives. Requesting temporary placement during background search for living relatives.

FO: Burke, Oscar.

 Good God. Seven years old and not one known relative in the world? Carla’s mind raced, her chin going into her hand which propped up on the desk. Of course she would approve it, but it was hard not to think about. Had this little girl been there when her mother passed? How did it happen? It didn’t state where or specifics of the death, which was highly unusual for a new case like this one. _Of course_, Carla thought with a deep breath in,_ it can also be rather chaotic when these things first start out. _



 Deciding it was better to restore herself after her lengthy distraction with Jane’s file and revealing the spotty details of her new case, Carla rose from her chair with a soft and deflating sigh. She would call over to officer Burke after she’d finally gotten that cup of tea for more details. She didn’t recognize the name, but didn’t think much of it at the moment- other than to wonder about how well he might’ve been trained. _He must be new. _She thought, shaking her head before picking up the other two files.

 Quickly, she posed the finished case files in her standing wire rack upright. This way, when Maxim reached her office, he would see she indeed had been working before she left her desk. It was exhausting attempting to prove one was doing their job in such a manner, and so often as it did just now, it wasted valuable time. But Carla knew if she didn’t, she would face the judgement of Maxim’s ever productive jolly grin, pushing in his feigned friendly manner for them all to work just a little harder. For the children.

 When Carla was satisfied with the slightly askewed appearance of her office, which signaled a rush of activity that would earn a visit to the tea kettle, she set about slipping past Maxim in the corridor and clicking her kitten heels down the hall to the employee lounge.



 “Morning, morning.” She muttered to a few familiar faces, but only inhaled deeply when she entered the blue painted room. The employee lounge was the only room in the building as far as Carla knew, that wasn’t grey. There was a small kitchen off to the side, equipped with a tiny, ineffective, and perpetually dirty microwave. There was also a dingy white refrigerator, and small hot plate atop which sat the office’s crown jewel; the tea kettle. Carla walked up to the kettle as though she were walking up to meet a very old and dear friend, smiling wide when she found that it had already been filled and the water inside was still steaming from having just finished boiling.



 “Morning, Carls.” A familiar and welcome voice came to her ear, and Carla turned to see her office mate Kathrine Knottsby smiling very warmly.



 “Hello, Kathy, good morning,” Carla felt her shoulders relax, and her own smile rested on her face feeling far more genuine than before. “Did you get your cup already? Shall I prepare it for you?”



  “No I haven’t, but you’re an angel. Please, you know just how I like it.”



 Kathrine was just as old as Carla, but looked a few years younger than her age, and very attractive. If Carla was mousy, Katherine was more akin to a vixen. She wore pantsuits that fitted much more closely than Carla would ever wear to the office, paired with gold jewelry and was never caught dead without a coat of lipstick. The two got on straight away when Kathrine came aboard the DCFS. Given Kathrine’s bolder appearance, she was used to such assumptions made about her; how well she performed at work, her promiscuity, and her likelihood to ever get married. All such bones that Carla had no interest in picking, she too had long since been deemed a lost cause in respect to meeting a man to settle down with.



 Over the last seven years they’d been working together, it became just as likely that Carla and Katherine could be seen together during the weekends as they would in the office. Just last Saturday, the two spent their evening with a few bottles of cheap supermarket wine, watching Jeanne Moreau play her sultry and nonchalant role as Eva on tape from the video shop, and slurring plans for a summer holiday in Venice.



 “How you getting on this morning, love?” Katherine’s hands were cool and soft as she brushed her fingers over Carla’s to receive her hot mug of steeping tea. She sat at the head of the long table in the center of the lounge, crossing her legs and sitting sidesaddle in her padded wire chair. Katherine’s special power with just about everyone, children and adult alike, was to put them at ease. There wasn’t a problem in the world that couldn’t be solved over a hot cup of tea and a moment to consider the outcomes with Katherine around. Carla wished she had that ability, if for no other reason that it ease her worries over seeing Jane Cuthbert or Maxim Black once again.



 “Oh fine, I suppose. Found three files on my desk this morning, got through the first two before I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to come round here a minute.” Carla sighed and gently tapped her neatly manicured nails along the side of the plain white mug she’d poured her hot water into. She watched Katherine do the same with her red glossy set, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 



 “At least we didn’t have any babes dumped on the doorstep over the long weekend. Nothing turns my stomach more than seeing a sad little face waiting on the curb, poor things.” Carla nodded in agreement, but dunked her tea bag a few times to give herself a moment to transition to something a bit more pleasant to think about.



 “I see you made it to your appointment with the manicurist on time Sunday morning.” Kathrine grinned and held her hand out to display her soft hands adorned with a few gold rings and tipped with her signature color, candy apple red.



 “Only just, and a might knackered from yours, I might add. But I did make it, I wanted to come round and show you Monday but seeing as it were Easter, of course.”



 “Of course.” Carla took Katherine’s hands and nodded appreciatively at her friend’s consideration. Any awkwardness between them had long since passed, and as Carla admired the softness of Kathrine’s fingers and the warmth of her gently enclosed palm, she wondered to herself if that was indeed what it felt like to be a man admiring his wife.  Katherine appeared none the wiser, but was thrilled to have her friend so close.



 “That was a lovely evening, Carls, we should see about doing that more often.”



 “I hope you don’t mean with so much wine,” Carla chuckled, finally looking up to Kather’s smiling face. “I hardly remember you leaving in the morning after we knocked out in our stooper. Did we even finish Eva? I’ve still got to return it to the video shop.” A strange look came over Katherine, and she tilted her head rather curiously toward Carla.



 “You really don’t remember, not at all..?” Carla thought hard for a moment, but the way Katherine was looking gave her the feeling of a doe in headlights. Was she meant to remember something? Katherine looked to be holding her breath and teetering on, disappointment? No, stronger than disappointment- heartbreak. Carla found herself wishing desperately that she could remember, remember anything at all about that night over the weekend that may be troubling Katherine. Could it be about their fantasy trip to Venice? Perhaps an appreciation of the wine they embibed? A promise of something—



 There are certain points when one cannot remember something, and then suddenly does, when they feel a monumental sense of importance and self-discovery. With a sober mind and a grounding feel of her friend’s gentle touch in her hands, Carla remembered with the utmost clarity what had taken place between herself and Katherine last Saturday night. She supposed the signal of it showed very clearly on her face, as Katherine didn’t seem to be able to discern if she should be relieved or mortified. 

 She was blushing, and at the moment she had to look about the employee lounge to ensure that no one else was able to hear them before she could speak. Though it was at that moment that she noticed it; a small lump on the corner, on the sofa at the far side of the room opposite the kitchen area covered in a blanket. At the foot of the sofa was a medium sized box, a trash bag, and a pair of tiny pink shoes. Carla stared at the lump for several seconds, and finally was able to  answer a panicked Katherine.



 “Kathy..?” Carla spoke softly, keeping herself hushed for the moment.



 “Yes, Carls..?” Katherine lowered her own voice to murmuring, and it was only at that moment that Carla would notice her hands which were so warm and steady a moment ago becoming clammy, trembling.



 “I’d like to talk with you about this in private,” Carla nodded, but was still very focused on the lump in the corner of the room.



 “Yes. I think that would be best, but- I should tell you Carls, if you’re upset- I never would have done that if I thought you were too—“



 “Hush, Katherine!” Carla felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she found herself stammering to explain over Kathy’s anxious rambling, which was only getting more anxious with Carla hissing the way that she was.



 “Carls! Oh, oh no, please- I’m sorry! We can just forget it ever happened! I don’t care, so long as you’ll still be my friend, I swear, I’ll never bring it up and it’ll never—“



 “Kathy! Please, I’m trying to tell you; we’re not alone!” The urgency in Carla’s eyes must’ve spoke far louder than her soft voice, because Katherine quickly turned to follow Carla’s stare to the small mound that settled on the sofa behind her. Katherine’s hands drew quickly from Carla’s to cup over her mouth as a gasp escaped her, and Carla took the moment as a que to stand from her chair and make her way around the table toward the mysterious mass. As Carla drew closer, she felt her stomach drop to her knees. Peeking from under the deep blue blanket draped over the office sofa was a small tuft of blonde curly hair. Her suspicions were confirmed when she gently pulled back the cover, and found the closed eyes of a little girl. “It’s a child! Kathy, you didn’t hear of anyone taking in a child this morning, did you?”

 Katherine shook her head quickly, and joined Carla beside the little girl as her eyes slowly fluttered and opened.



 “Hello darling, my name is Katherine, this is my friend Carla. Are you alright dear? You warm enough?” At that, the strange little girl shook her head, and Katherine on instinct hurried to the office refrigerator to pull the carton of milk from within. Supposedly as she poured it into a glass she was going to warm it, but Carla busied herself with helping their surprise stowaway sit up and wrap up in the blanket she came packed in. She was a skinny little thing, with long blonde hair and eyes the most brilliant shade of blue that Carla had ever seen. By ever did she look tired, hair a bit knotted and face shiny and pink. She’d likely cried herself to sleep, Carla had seen such signs before.



 “Are you lost, dear? Did someone bring you back here?” The sleepy little girl rubbed her eyes, but shook her head before speaking.



 “No, I’m not lost,” She started, and looked to Carla with those big, sad, blue eyes. She spoke with thick and Irish, likely Galway from the sounds of it, but what was she doing all the way out here in London? “I’m meant to be here, I think. I’m waiting for my mammy.” Katherine and Carla looked at each other a moment as Katherine knelt down with a cup of warm milk for the little girl to sip on. She gulped it greedily, which didn’t surprise either Katherine or Carla. Who knew how long she’d been sitting there?



 “Yeah? How long have you been waiting here for your mummy, darling?” Carla kept her tone soothing, her hand moving to gently rub the little girl’s shoulder as Katherine accepted the empty cup and turned to look for something she could eat.



 “Uhm…” the girl thought very hard for a moment, then turned to face Carla a bit more directly. “Friday night?”



 “You’ve been in here all weekend?! By yourself?!” Katherine gasped, a manicured hand going to her heart as she stood by the opened fridge and looked on in shock. The little girl looked a bit wary for a moment, shrinking back and fiddling with her fingers. She couldn’t have been any older than six or seven.



 “The police man told me someone in here would be able to help me while they took my mummy to hospital,” she spoke so quietly, Carla could hardly hear. “But when I came inside, there was no one here. This was the only door that wasn’t locked.”



 “You’re not in trouble, dearie,” Carla assured her, feeling the girl’s shoulders relax at the assurance. “We’re just very surprised it happened that way, that’s all. You were very brave, and you did the right thing to find a safe place to stay put until help came.”



 “Can I see my mammy now? I’ve been waiting for ages.” It was then that Carla’s stomach would drop a second time. As she looked over this beautiful little girl, she noted once more the brilliant blue color of her eyes. She also noticed the small mole- or beauty spot, just below and to the outer corner of the girl’s left eye.



 “Darling, is your name Erin? Erin O’Quinn?” Erin gave a nod, and Carla had a horrible feeling that she knew why she hadn’t recognized the name of the officer on her file. Officer Burke wasn’t an officer of theirs, he had to be a police officer, who would have a copy of their forms in the case of an emergent filing. _He must not have had any idea what he was doing, how could he just drop her by and not make sure she got in alright?!_ The thought made Carla’s skin crawl, but she couldn’t think about it too hard now. She had to focus on what was in front of her; a scared little girl who needed a place to stay. 



 “I suppose you were wrong Kathy,” Carla shook her head as her friend returned with a plate of mixed fair for Erin to have for breakfast; a few cubes of cheese, slice of bread, a handful of granola, and an unclaimed cup of blueberry yogurt. Erin accepted it as though it were a full English breakfast, scarfing it down without much care for her manners. 



 “You probably haven’t eaten all weekend, have you? Poor dear.” Katherine was soothing and sweet as she patted Erin’s head and turned to face Carla with a bemused expression. “What do you mean, Carls?”



 “We did get a babe on our doorstep this weekend. She just didn’t fancy waiting on the curb.”