“In a way,” Gregor says behind him. “But I wanted to foster just as much as Gaynor did.”
Ross turns to him. “And now you can?”
“Aye. Now I can.”
“Good for you. I'm sure your wife would be happy.” Ross winces inside as soon as he says it. He hadn't meant it to come out the dickish way it did, as if he was taking the piss.
Gregor Picken just looks at him for a moment, then: “Twelve foster homes in ten years, right?” Ross feels his jaw tighten at the mention of his adoption record. He doesn't reply. “None of them lasting more than a few months,” Gregor goes on. “You ran away from three of them, the first time when you were six, the last when you were ten. The woman in that case told the people at Eastburn you tried to stab her husband with a kitchen knife. Want to tell me what happened?”
