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trail of chaos in their wake.
    ‘Give me those, you cunt!’ yelled Anita, snatching her favourite chocolate bars out of Caroline’s grasp.
    ‘Fucking hell!’ shouted Caroline, the words coming out clearer than usual, as she aimed a kick at Anita, who managed to dodge, just in time.
    ‘Belt up, you bitches,’ ordered Hamish.
    More disapproving looks and tut-tutting from other customers, but apart from the swearing they didn’t get up to anything particularly bad that first time, thank goodness.
    I made a mental note to talk to them about choosing which words to use where, but I knew this wasn’t the time. Swearing must have been the language they were used to hearing every day in
their house, so it was normal to them. They didn’t know they were saying anything wrong. These children’s feelings were more important to Mike and me than any embarrassment they caused
us, or the disapproval of strangers who didn’t understand.
    As we queued up to pay at the checkout, Hamish looked uncomfortable.
    ‘What’s the matter, love?’ I asked.
    ‘What are we doing?’
    ‘We’re queuing up. This is the checkout, where we have to pay.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because that’s what we have to do.’
    ‘Well, if you go round to the back, the manager lets you have food. You don’t have to pay because it’s free.’
    ‘No, I don’t think so,’ I said.
    ‘Yes, it is. That’s what I used to do. If there was nothing in the bins, I used to knock at the back door at Tesco’s. The manager always gave me some food to take home for the
others.’
    ‘Really?’ I was surprised at this revelation, and pleased that Hamish had found a kind friend to help them. We had a lot to learn.
    It was quite a relief to get them all back home again. After unpacking all the shopping and having another chaotic meal, it was early evening and the children began to flag,
especially the two younger ones. I don’t know who was more tired, them or me.
    ‘Right, it’s time for a bath,’ I said, and we all clambered up the stairs. I went into the bathroom, ran the water and put lots of bubbles in. Of course, ‘safe
caring’ means you’re not supposed to put all the kids in together and I can remember undressing Simon and putting him in first, lowering him into the warm water. He sat there like a
lump of dough – no response. Usually, when you put little ones into a bath and you gently splash them, and play peek-a-boo with them, there would be great hilarity. But there was none of that
with Simon. Not with any of them it seemed, as I broke rule number two and decided to put them all into the bath together, to make it more fun, and so that I could make sure they all had a good
soak.
    Hamish and Anita had shed their clothes all over the landing, where there was more space. Now the two of them ran into the bathroom and climbed straight into the bath, splashing water everywhere
in a wild water-fight, with Simon at one end, ignoring them both. But no Caroline.
    While Mike kept an eye on the others, I went to the doorway and looked out to see this forlorn waif standing against the landing wall, fully dressed and trembling so much that her clumps of
wispy hair shook.
    ‘Come on, Caroline,’ I said, beckoning her gently. ‘Come and have a bubble bath.’
    ‘No,’ she wailed. ‘No bath.’
    ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘You’ll be fine.’ I knew I had to be matter-of-fact. I couldn’t tell her it didn’t matter and she needn’t have a
bath. It had to be done. So I picked her up and carried her, struggling, into the bathroom, where she fiercely resisted me taking anything off her. I hated to force her like this, but she was
filthy and in desperate need of a soak. I wondered why the hospital hadn’t cleaned her up a bit, but perhaps she put up a fight there too and they had to give up.
    After a bit of a struggle, I got her nappy off and the stench was horrendous. She was rigid with fear, so we had some cuddles as we sat on the bathroom