It's been a flurry of activity throughout the day in my office - all of us working on keeping Florence and Precious here. Now, there's nothing left to do. The QC will call the home office in the next half hour to find out if they're willing to delay the deportation pending his application for a judicial review. Weird feeling in the office. There are bursts of noise when we're all trying to cheer each other up and then it just falls silent again and we sit and wait. Every so often my phone will go and we all jump.
And whilst we're waiting and feeling sick with nerves, our thoughts keep turning to Florence and Precious sitting at Heathrow Airport just waiting as the seconds tick away. Precious, who let me tell you is a beautiful little girl inside and out, will be wondering what lies ahead in her life. Florence could tell her because she knows exactly what is in store.
I wonder at what stage does a mother decide it's time to stop pretending she can keep her daughter safe and instead try to equip this wee ten year old to cope with the horrors she could face by telling her the truth?