The Child Bride

by Cathy Glass

  It was pitiful and being so far away I was impotent to help.

  ‘Have you tried talking to some of the other women there?’ I asked. ‘They might be feeling lonely too.’

  ‘No. I can’t. I want to come back to you, even if it’s unsafe. I miss you all, and my little brothers and sisters.’

  ‘I know, love. And hopefully we’ll all see each other again soon.’

  ‘Do you know where this refuge is?’ she asked between sobs.

  ‘Not exactly, no.’

  ‘Why didn’t they tell you?’

  ‘Because it’s a safe house and its location has to be kept secret.’

  ‘I don’t know where I am either,’ she said, and sobbed louder. ‘I’m so unhappy. I wish I’d never been born.’

  ‘Oh, love, don’t say that, please,’ I said. ‘Once you start school you’ll make friends,’ I added, repeating what Tara had said.

  But Zeena cried all the more.

  ‘Have you spoken to Gwen, the lady who runs the refuge?’ I now asked, trying to think of a positive suggestion.

  ‘A bit, when I first arrived,’ she said. ‘She showed me my room. But she’s always busy with the other women’s problems. It’s not like when I was with you. You always had time to listen and talk to me.’ And her crying continued.

  I thought that at her age Zeena needed a foster family, not an institution, however caring and well intentioned it was, but there hadn’t been a suitable foster home available.

  ‘Have you told Gwen or Tara how you feel?’ I asked.

  ‘I told Tara when she phoned yesterday,’ Zeena said. ‘But she told me I had to give myself time, and that she was looking for a foster family around here. But I don’t want to stay here, Cathy. I want to come back. They can’t make me stay, can they?’

  The simple answer was no, but I didn’t want Zeena thinking that she could remove herself from the refuge. She was there for a good reason – her safety.

  ‘Listen, love,’ I said, taking charge, ‘I’ll phone Tara now and explain how upset you are. She may have some suggestions – I don’t know, but I can try. However, I want you to do something for me while I talk to her.’

  ‘What is it?’ Zeena sobbed.

  ‘Is there a common room in the house, like a living room, where you can sit and be with others?’

  ‘Yes, it’s downstairs. But I don’t go there. The others use it.’

  Exactly, I thought. ‘When we finish on the phone and while I speak to Tara, I want you to go downstairs to the common room and sit there. Take your phone with you and I’ll call you once I’ve spoken to Tara. But I want you in the common room. I wouldn’t leave you alone in your room here if you were upset, and I’m not doing it there. All right?’ It was the best I could do from so far away.

  ‘OK,’ she managed to say.

  ‘Good girl. Now, off you go then.’

  ‘I’ve got to wash my face first, it’s all red and blotchy,’ she said.

  ‘All right, then you go to the common room and I’ll phone you there.’

  ‘I will,’ she said in a small voice, and the phone went dead.

  I felt devastated. The poor child.

  Barely able to stop my hand from shaking, I keyed in Tara’s office number. She was out of the office and her calls were being transferred through to her mobile. When she answered there was traffic noise in the background.

  ‘It’s Cathy,’ I said, unable to keep the anxiety from my voice. ‘Zeena has just phoned me. She’s very distraught.’ I then told Tara what Zeena had said, including her isolation, that she felt Gwen was too busy to listen to her, and her comment that she wished she’d never been born. ‘I think she’s so desperate she could run away,’ I ended by saying.

  ‘I hadn’t realized she felt that low,’ Tara said, immediately concerned. ‘I’m planning to visit her next week, but I’ll phone the refuge now and make Gwen aware. Hopefully she can put in some extra support for her until I find a more suitable placement.’

  ‘I could visit her tomorrow,’ I offered.

  ‘I think seeing you now could be more upsetting for her. She needs to settle in first,’ Tara said, which I had to accept.

  Tara ended the call to speak to Gwen and I went into the kitchen for a glass of water. I returned to the living room and telephoned Zeena. She answered straight away.

  ‘Are you in the communal room now?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said in a small voice. But at least she wasn’t crying.

  ‘Are there others there?’

  ‘Yes, two. One of them has a baby with her.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ I said. ‘What are the women doing?’

  ‘One is making tea,’ Zeena said.

  ‘Would you like a cup?’ I heard a woman ask Zeena.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Zeena said.

  I breathed a small sigh of relief. She had some company.

  ‘I’ve spoken to Tara,’ I said. ‘I’ve told her how unhappy you are. She’s phoning Gwen now to see what can be done. She also said she’s going to visit you next week. She’s still looking for a suitable foster placement.’

  ‘Did you tell her I want to go back to you?’ Zeena asked.

  ‘Yes, love, but that’s not an option at present,’ I said more firmly. ‘Remember that you are there for your own protection.’

  Zeena went very quiet and then asked, ‘How are Paula and Lucy?’

  ‘They’re fine. They send their love. Paula got that summer job she applied for.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Zeena said. ‘Tell her well done.’

  ‘I will. So what have you been doing today? Reading? Watching television?’

  ‘No, just sitting, thinking,’ she said, in a flat voice.

  I heard a door open in the common room and then a woman’s voice say, ‘Zeena, can you come with me, love, so we can have a chat?’

  ‘Yes,’ Zeena replied. Then to me, ‘I have to go. Gwen wants to talk to me.’

  ‘All right, love. I’ll speak to you soon.’

  Tara, bless her, had phoned Gwen straight away, and I dearly hoped Gwen would be able to help Zeena. It was heartbreaking to think of her alone and so unhappy.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Turn of Events

  I told Paula and Lucy that Zeena had telephoned, but I played down how upset she’d been, and reassured them that Tara and the manager of the refuge were helping Zeena to settle in. They both texted Zeena a goodnight message, and she replied Thnks x, but that was all. On Saturday evening I was in the house by myself. Adrian was away with his girlfriend and Lucy and Paula were at the boy-band concert they’d booked tickets for when Zeena had first arrived. A little after 6.30 p.m. the landline rang. It was Zeena, and to my utter relief she wasn’t crying. I called her back to save her phone credit.

  ‘Lovely to hear from you,’ I said. ‘I could do with a chat. Everyone is out here. What have you been doing today?’

  ‘I read a book in my room this morning,’ she said, sounding a lot brighter. ‘Then I went down for lunch. One of the women here, Martha, made my lunch. We do our own cooking, so I’m going to make us dinner.’

  ‘That’s nice. She’ll enjoy that,’ I said. ‘You’re a good cook.’

  ‘I’m still unhappy though,’ Zeena said. ‘Gwen talked to me. I realize I’m not as badly off as some here, so I’m trying not to feel sorry for myself, but it’s not easy. All the women here have been abused and some have bad scars from being burned or scalded. One woman has a piece missing from her ear where her husband bit it off.’

  ‘Dear me, that’s shocking,’ I said, my stomach churning. ‘How awful. How many women live there?’

  ‘Six, but two have little ones with them, so eight in all. Gwen asked Martha to look after me because she’s been through something similar.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ I asked.

  ‘Martha’s nineteen now but when she was sixteen her parents forced her to marry a much older man in Pakistan. After the wedding they left her there and she got pregn
ant. Her husband regularly beat her up and one time he kicked her so hard in the stomach she had a miscarriage. While she was at the hospital recovering she ran away. The British consulate helped her get home. Then her parents tried to force her to go back to him. They locked her in a room without any food. She managed to escape by climbing out of a bedroom window and went to the police. The police brought her here, but she can’t ever go home again. She’s estranged from her family, like I am.’

  ‘At least she’s safe now,’ I said, trying to stay positive. I wasn’t sure that at fourteen Zeena needed to hear such tales of woe, but it was making her feel less alone.

  ‘Where are you now?’ I asked her.

  ‘In my room. I came up here to phone you and then I’ll go down and make dinner. Martha is being so kind to me, like Lucy and Paula were. She said if I need to talk I can knock on her door at any time, even at night.’

  ‘She sounds a lovely person,’ I said.

  ‘She is. I wish we could both come and live with you,’ Zeena said, with a very small laugh.

  I laughed too. ‘A nice thought, but I know things will get better for both of you. You’re doing very well.’

  ‘I still want to come home to you,’ Zeena said, her voice losing its brightness and growing sad.

  I thought it best to change the subject. ‘What will you do this evening?’ I asked.

  ‘Make dinner and then maybe watch some television in the common room. The television is on all the time.’

  ‘Will Martha or some of the other women be there?’

  ‘I should think so. No one goes out much, especially in the evening. The two women with babies have to put them to bed at a reasonable time. It’s one of the rules for staying here. Are you fostering anyone else now?’ she asked.

  ‘No, love. Not yet.’

  ‘Will you keep my room free, just in case I come home?’

  I chose my reply very carefully. ‘Zeena, love, it’s not me who decides when a new child arrives. It’s when a child needs a foster home – although I don’t suppose it will be long, as many children come into care. But that won’t mean we will think any less about you. Far from it. You will always have a special place in our hearts, and once you’re more settled, we’ll visit or meet up somewhere.’

  ‘Can you come tomorrow? Zeena asked.

  ‘Tara said we should wait until you’ve had a chance to settle in more.’

  It went very quiet on the other end of the phone and I thought it was time to bring the conversation to a close, as Zeena seemed to be growing gloomy.

  ‘So you’re going to make some dinner now for you and Martha?’ I said. ‘What will you cook?’

  ‘Not sure. Curry, I think,’ Zeena said.

  ‘Lovely, I’ll let you go then. I expect you’re hungry. It’s nearly seven o’clock. I’m going to fix myself something to eat too, but it won’t be as nice as yours. I can almost smell the curry now. Have a good evening and I’ll text you goodnight before I go to bed.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘Goodbye then, love, thanks for phoning. I’m very proud of you.’ It was difficult ending the conversation, but I knew I shouldn’t prolong it.

  I was pleased Zeena had sounded a little brighter thanks to Gwen’s chat, and to Martha, but I knew she was going to need a lot of support for a very long time with another move coming up and then the court case, as well as trying to come to terms with everything that had happened to her. Counselling would start once Zeena was settled in her permanent foster home. I texted Zeena goodnight before I went to bed and she texted back: Night xx.

  The following morning, when Paula and Lucy were up, I told them that Zeena had telephoned and she’d sounded more cheerful and was making friends. They were pleased and both texted her and Zeena replied. Adrian returned home with Kirsty on Sunday evening and we all chatted for a while in the living room before Kirsty went home. Then on Monday morning we fell into the weekday routine, only without Zeena of course, which felt very strange. However, that afternoon I received rather an odd text from her. It was upbeat in tone but didn’t say much: A lot goin on here. Will phne when I have news. Luv to u all. Z xx.

  I assumed the news was that a permanent foster home had been found and she would be starting school soon. I was pleased that she was being so positive and I texted back: Sounds good. Look forward to hearing all about it. Luv Cathy xx.

  She didn’t text again or phone that day, but on Tuesday, around lunchtime, the landline rang. ‘Cathy, I’m nearly out of credit. Can you phone me back, please?’ Zeena sounded breathless with excitement. Whatever could it be?

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said, and I pressed the key to return her call.

  Even before it rang she answered it.

  ‘Oh, Cathy, you’re never going to believe what’s happened. I can go home.’ And for a moment I thought she meant she could come home to me, but then the social services hadn’t contacted me.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said.

  ‘I know. I can hardly believe it. But Norma and Tara phoned me yesterday and this morning. You know my father and uncle were arrested?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, when they were released on bail they fled the country. They’re in Bangladesh. They can’t ever come back here or they’ll be arrested and put in prison. Mum says they won’t come back, they’ll stay there for ever.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to your mother?’

  ‘Yes, on the phone. I’m going home to live with her and my little brothers and sisters. Isn’t it wonderful!’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, as questions and concerns flooded my thoughts. ‘And Tara and Norma have agreed to this?’

  ‘Yes, with certain conditions.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘Mum has to make some changes, and my father must never set foot in the house again. If he contacts her she has to tell the police. The social services were going to take my brothers and sisters into care, but they won’t now my father has gone. They can stay as long as she looks after them properly and doesn’t let my father or uncle near them. Also, she mustn’t take them out of the country. I’ll make sure she doesn’t!’

  ‘And you’ve forgiven your mother?’ I asked, aware of the role she’d played in Zeena’s abuse.

  ‘I have to,’ Zeena said. ‘So I can be with my brothers and sisters. I need my family. Mum cried a lot on the phone and asked me to forgive her and give her another chance. I have to, for the sake of the little ones. I believe a lot of the way she behaved was because of my father, and the way she was brought up.’

  ‘I know you do,’ I said. While Zeena was seeking to justify her mother’s appalling behaviour, I wasn’t ready to forgive her completely yet. Surely any mother’s priority should be to protect her children, and at any cost to herself? Although I appreciated that Zeena’s mother had suffered too.

  ‘So when is all this happening?’ I asked, struggling to take it all in. Situations in fostering can and do change quickly, but never normally as quickly or dramatically as this.

  ‘In a few days,’ Zeena said. ‘A week at the most. Tara has to do a home visit first, to my house, and also make some other checks. Then once that’s done she’ll phone me and arrange to come and collect me and take me home. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m so happy.’

  ‘I’m happy for you too, love,’ I said. ‘I really am.’

  ‘I’ll come and see you once I’m home,’ Zeena said. ‘I’ll always be grateful for what you and your family did for me. You can be my second family.’

  I smiled to myself. ‘I’m pleased things are working out so well,’ I said. ‘But remember, if you ever need to talk you know where I am.’

  ‘Thanks, Cathy. I will. I have to go now. I’m going out with Martha to do some shopping. I want to buy all the little ones a homecoming present.’

  ‘Enjoy your shopping, love. Take care. Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye Cathy. Speak soon. Love to you all.’

  Zeena was clearly beside herself
with happiness, and it was an incredible turn of events. It really was like a dream come true, as though a fairy had waved her magic wand and made everything OK. Only, of course, real life isn’t like that, and I could foresee many problems and hurdles that Zeena would face, which at the moment were far from her mind. Zeena had been abused from the age of nine, and those memories weren’t going to disappear overnight. Returning home wasn’t an instant cure; it wouldn’t heal the wound of her past. That would take a long, long time to heal, and living with her mother in the house where her father had started the abuse could serve as a constant reminder. How long before Zeena came to resent or even hate her mother? And I wasn’t convinced that her mother could now protect and nurture Zeena and the younger children, as she’d failed to do before. Tara would have taken all that into consideration before letting Zeena return home or allowing her siblings to stay, but nevertheless, I was plagued with misgivings.

  Then, later that afternoon, Tara telephoned.

  ‘I believe Zeena’s told you her good news,’ she began.

  ‘Yes, she telephoned me earlier, ecstatic. I could hardly get a word in.’

  Tara gave a snort of laughter. ‘There’s been a lot going on, but I thought I should give you a ring, as you’ve been so closely involved with Zeena, and fill in some of the background.’

  ‘Thank you. I am worried,’ I confessed.

  ‘Don’t be,’ Tara said. ‘I shall be monitoring the family very carefully. All the children have been placed on the child-protection register and will remain there for at least a year. Until I’m satisfied that they are no longer in danger and their mother is providing an acceptable level of care. I’ve told the mother that she will have to take a lot more responsibility for her children than she did before. I’m not having Zeena being used as a servant while her mother stays in bed. Zeena can help, but the children are primarily the mother’s responsibility. Zeena has school work to do and she wants a career. She’s a bright girl and should do well. I’ve also told the mother that Zeena needs to be allowed to go out and see her friends sometimes – at her age it’s reasonable.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘And Zeena’s father is no longer in this country?’