by Cathy Glass
Paula looked at me, aware I had something important to say to Beth.
‘Beth, love,’ I said gently, bending towards her. ‘I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan.’
Beth’s face immediately lost its happy, carefree expression and she scowled at me. ‘I’m not seeing my daddy, am I?’
‘No, not tonight, love. I’m sorry. I’ll explain when we get home.’
She glared at me, a mixture of disappointment and anger. Then she stamped her foot hard in rage. ‘I want to see my daddy!’ she shouted.
Paula jumped in fright and some of the other children and mothers standing nearby looked over.
I placed my hand reassuringly on Beth’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, love,’ I said again. ‘Jessie phoned. I’ll tell you what she said when we get home.’
‘Tell me now!’ Beth demanded, stamping her foot again.
‘No, love, when we get home,’ I said evenly.
‘You can’t stop me seeing my daddy!’ she shouted. ‘No one can!’ Even I was starting to feel embarrassed, and Paula was looking scared.
‘Losing your temper won’t help,’ I said, keeping my voice calm. ‘I’ll tell you what I know when we get home, not here.’
‘Hate you!’ Beth hissed. ‘Hate you all.’ She folded her arms across her chest, her face set in anger and she turned her back on us.
I hadn’t seen Beth this angry. Paula was obviously frightened by her outburst and slipped her hand into mine. Adrian came out of school and, seeing Beth’s expression, asked her lightly, ‘What’s up with you?’
‘Shut up!’ she shouted.
He frowned.
‘That’s enough, Beth,’ I said. ‘I know you’re upset, but being rude won’t help.’
‘Can we go now, Mum?’ Adrian asked, clearly embarrassed and wanting to be away from the playground.
‘Yes. Come on,’ I said.
Paula kept her hand firmly in mine as we began across the playground. Adrian went a little in front and Beth lagged behind. I could see she was putting distance between us and a couple of times I glanced over my shoulder to make sure she wasn’t getting too far behind. She still had her arms crossed and was staring down as she walked, a fierce expression marring her usually pretty features. We went out of the school gates and along the pavement towards the car, with Beth walking some distance behind us. Even when we arrived at the car she stood a little away and glared at me when I looked at her.
‘Come on. In you get,’ I said to all three children as I opened the rear door.
Adrian slid in first, then Paula and finally Beth. I checked their seatbelts as I usually did, but as I checked Beth’s she roughly pushed my hand away. I thought it best to ignore her small act of aggression and closed the rear door, which automatically child-locked. No one spoke in the car during the ten-minute drive home, but I could see their faces in the rear-view mirror. Adrian and Paula were looking ahead with very worried expressions, while Beth was staring out of her side window, still very angry.
I parked on our driveway, got out and opened the rear door for the children. Adrian clambered out first, followed by Paula and then Beth, who stomped past me and up to the front door.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said quietly to Adrian and Paula. ‘She’ll be all right soon.’ I could see how much Beth’s anger was upsetting them.
I unlocked the front door and Beth shot in first. Kicking off her shoes, she threw her coat on the floor and then stamped upstairs to her bedroom where she slammed the door.
‘What was all that about?’ Adrian now asked, relieved we were home.
‘Beth can’t see her father tonight,’ I said. ‘Understandably she’s upset. Can you look after Paula for a moment, please, while I go up and talk to her?’
‘Can we have the television on?’ Adrian asked.
‘Yes, of course. Until dinner time.’
I helped Paula out of her coat and shoes, took off my own, and then Adrian took Paula through to the living room. I went upstairs to Beth’s room, where I gave a perfunctory knock on her door before going in. She was lying on her side on the bed clutching the framed photograph of her father to her chest.
‘Get out!’ she cried as I entered. ‘I hate you all. I want my daddy!’
‘I know you do, love,’ I said gently. I went over and perched tentatively on the edge of the bed. I didn’t want to be within striking distance if Beth lashed out, which I thought she might do while she was so angry.
‘Why won’t you let me see my daddy?’ she demanded, glaring at me.
‘It’s not my decision,’ I said. ‘Jessie phoned me this morning and said she and her manager had made the decision that you weren’t to go to the hospital or telephone your father again until she tells us.’ There was no easy way to say it.
‘What? I can’t telephone him?’ Beth asked, sitting up so quickly that I started. Her eyes blazed.
‘I’m afraid not,’ I said. ‘I don’t know – Jessie didn’t say – but there must be a good reason.’
‘I can’t telephone him at all?’ Beth asked, her voice rising slightly in disbelief.
‘Not for now. Not until Jessie tells us to.’
‘But that’s not fair!’ Beth cried, clutching the photograph. Then her anger turned inwards and on herself. ‘I bet it’s my fault I can’t see him,’ she said. ‘I’ve done something. It’s all my fault!’ Tears sprang to her eyes.
‘No, it’s not,’ I said. ‘It’s not your fault at all.’
‘It must be!’ she cried. ‘I love my daddy and he loves me. I must have done something really bad for them to stop me seeing him.’ Like many children in care who can’t see their parents, Beth felt she was to blame.
I moved closer and took her hand. She didn’t resist. ‘Beth, love,’ I said gently. ‘Sometimes social workers have to make difficult decisions, and they can’t always tell us straight away the reason for their decision. We’re going to have to be patient and brave, until Jessie can tell us what the problem is. Hopefully it won’t be long.’
Beth looked at me, all anger gone, now replaced by sorrow. ‘Perhaps my daddy doesn’t love me any more,’ she said pitifully. ‘Perhaps he loves someone else, not me.’
With the photograph still held close to her chest, she laid her head against my shoulder and began sobbing quietly. I put my arms around her and drew her to me. ‘Of course your daddy loves you,’ I said. ‘And deep down you know that. It wasn’t his decision not to see you. He’s very upset too.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Beth sobbed. ‘You don’t know he was upset. Perhaps he told Jessie he didn’t want to see me any more.’ I could appreciate why Beth felt so rejected, and with no reason for the cessation of contact it was difficult for me to reassure her. I decided I had no choice but to tell her about Marianne’s telephone call, to prove to her that it wasn’t her father’s decision and that he too was upset at not seeing her. ‘Marianne telephoned me this morning,’ I began.
Beth raised her head from my shoulder and looked at me, her eyes wet from crying. ‘Why?’
‘She asked me if I knew why you weren’t seeing your daddy. He telephoned her earlier because he was upset at not being able to see you. He wanted to see you very much.’
‘Did he really?’ Beth asked.
‘Yes, love. I wouldn’t make it up. He phoned Marianne, and then she phoned me.’
‘But if my daddy wants to see me and I want to see him, why can’t we see each other?’ Beth asked.
‘I honestly don’t know. Marianne and your father don’t know either. Jessie said she’d tell us when she knows more. But it may not be for some time. I know it’s upsetting for you, but there’s nothing we can do for now and I think we should try to make the most of the weekend.’ I decided not to tell Beth that Jessie had said she was making further enquiries, as it begged the question about the nature of the enquires and Jessie hadn’t told me.
‘So I can’t phone my daddy at all over the weekend?’ Beth asked, her face clouding again.
Her face crumpled and I put my arms around her and held her close. I felt so very sorry for her and impotent to help. As I cuddled and soothed her, I heard a key go into the lock in the front door downstairs and then the door open. For a moment I wondered who was letting themselves in, and then I realized.
‘John’s home,’ I said to Beth. ‘Let’s dry your eyes and go downstairs.’ I thought John’s entrance was well timed. It should help distract Beth from her disappointment and also cheer up Adrian and Paula, who were naturally worried about Beth.
Adrian and Paula had heard their father come in and had rushed down the hall to greet him with shouts of ‘Daddy! Daddy’s home!’
‘Hi, love,’ I called to John from Beth’s room. ‘I’m with Beth. We’ll be down in a minute.’ I’m not sure whether John heard me, for he was making such a fuss of the children. I could hear him telling them how much he’d missed them.
‘OK?’ I asked Beth. ‘Do you feel you can come down now?’ She gave a small nod. ‘Good girl.’
She slid the photograph of her father under the pillow. I held her hand and we went downstairs. John, Adrian and Paula were still in the hall hugging each other. ‘Hi. How are you two?’ John said, looking up as Beth and I arrived at the bottom of the stairs.
‘We’re good,’ I said. Beth managed a weak smile.
I went over and kissed John’s cheek; I couldn’t give him a bigger kiss or a hug as he was fully occupied hugging Adrian and Paula. I thought it would be nice if the three of them had some time alone, as they hadn’t seen each other for two weeks. I also thought that watching their joyful reunion might upset Beth even more.
‘Would you like to come and help me make John a cup of tea,’ I suggested to her. ‘I could do with your help, and I’m sure he’d like a cup of tea.’
‘Yes, please. I’m gasping,’ John said.
Beth was happy to come with me, and John shoulder-lifted Adrian and Paula into the living room amid squeals of laughter and delight. Here was another example of the careful balancing act that was required between the needs of one’s own children and the looked-after child, so that everyone had their fair share of attention and no one felt compromised or left out. Later, we’d all be together, but for now it was right that Adrian and Paula enjoyed their father’s attention.
Beth was meticulous in setting a cup and saucer on the tray for John and then arranging biscuits on a plate, and while this little activity distracted her from her upset, my thoughts were still with Derek. Marianne had said she was going to the hospital after work and I guessed she would be there now. I wondered how Derek was and if Marianne had found out the reason why he wasn’t allowed to see or speak to Beth. Surely Jessie had told Derek the reason, even if he’d been too upset to tell Marianne when he’d telephoned her? It crossed my mind, but only for a second, that the reason might have something to do with the concerns Marianne, Miss Willow and I had previously raised. But I dismissed the thought. Jessie had said those concerns had been proved unfounded, so it couldn’t be that.
Chapter Thirteen
Two-Parent Family
John enjoyed the tea and biscuits Beth carefully carried into the living room on the tray and handed to him. Adrian and Paula had calmed down a little from the excitement of having their father home and were seated on the sofa either side of him, telling him their news. Beth and I sat in the easy chairs and joined in the conversation. There was a joyous, festive atmosphere to our talk that evening – the upside of having a partner working away is that their homecoming becomes a celebration and the whole family is merry. Even Toscha was purring and rubbing herself around John’s legs. After a while I left John with the children and went into the kitchen to make dinner. I’d chosen some of John’s favourite dishes to cook: chicken casserole with creamed potatoes, peas and sweetcorn, followed by apple crumble and cream. These were also favourites with Adrian and Paula and most of the children I fostered, including Beth.
Beth was quieter than usual during the meal and didn’t mention her father, other than to tell John that she wasn’t allowed to see him or telephone him. I motioned to John that I’d explain later as I hadn’t had a chance to speak to him on his own.
After dinner we played some games – snap first, mainly for Paula, and then Uno for Adrian and Beth. Adrian had taught Beth how to play Uno and they both enjoyed the game, as did John and I. Paula helped play my hand, as the rules of Uno were a bit beyond her at her age. As it was Friday and we didn’t have to be up early for school the following morning, the children stayed up later than usual. Occupied with the games, Beth temporarily forgot her sadness and seemed to take comfort in having John there – indeed, she wouldn’t leave him alone. If I felt slightly uncomfortable about the way she was always touching him – rubbing his arm or running her fingers through his hair – I dismissed it. She was missing her father, that was all.
Just after eight o’clock, when I saw Paula begin to yawn and rub her eyes, I said, ‘Bedtime, love. Say goodnight.’ She went round everyone saying goodnight and offering her cheek for kissing.
The bedtime routine was easier with John home and only half the work for me. While I took Paula to bed he kept Adrian and Beth amused, then, once Paula was in bed, John and I swapped places, and he spent time saying goodnight to Paula while I continued playing games with Adrian and Beth. Then at nine o’clock John saw Adrian into bed while I went with Beth.
Beth became sad again at bedtime, so I sat with her and stroked her forehead until she fell asleep. By nine-thirty all three children were in bed and asleep and John and I went into the living room. I was looking forward to a kiss and a cuddle and to catching up on our news. John suggested he open a bottle of wine and he went into the kitchen to pour us a glass each. Just as he did, the telephone rang and I quickly answered it in the living room, hoping the ringing hadn’t woken the children. I thought it might be an old friend telephoning for a chat, in which case I’d explain that John had just returned from working away and I’d phone back another time.
However, it wasn’t an old friend.
‘Cathy,’ Marianne began as soon as I answered. ‘I’ve just returned from seeing Derek at the hospital. I’ve been there for over three hours. I thought you’d want to know what happened. Are you OK to talk?’
She sounded very stressed and I could hardly say no. ‘How is Derek?’ I asked.
‘Not good, which is why I stayed so long. All the worry has really set back his recovery, and of course I feel partly responsible.’
‘Why do you feel responsible?’ I asked, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. I could hear John moving around in the kitchen as he took the wine glasses from the cabinet.
‘There was a meeting at the hospital earlier this week,’ Marianne continued. ‘Derek had to attend. I’m not sure which day it was – he was unclear. Jessie was there; so too was a nurse from his ward and the psychologist. They talked about Derek and Beth’s home life, and some of the things I told you – about the way Derek and Beth behave towards each other – came up.’
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘I’m not blaming you,’ Marianne said quickly. ‘I agreed you should tell Jessie. But the way it was said made it sound as though I was accusing Derek of child abuse, which I certainly wasn’t. They also talked about the things you’d told Jessie – about some photographs and other stuff. Miss Willow was mentioned too.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ I said as soon as Marianne paused. ‘Why now? I thought all that had been dealt with when I first brought it up. Jessie told me that there were no grounds for concern. Indeed, she made me feel I was being malicious for suggesting anything was wrong. So why has all this come up now?’ John returned to the living room carrying a glass of wine in each hand, which he set on the coffee table within reach, and then sat beside me on the sofa, waiting for me to finish on the telephone.
‘I don’t know,’ Marianne said. ‘Each time Derek started to tell me what
Jessie had said he became upset and started crying. It’s possible it had something to do with Beth’s visit last Friday. I believe Jessie took her to the hospital?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said. ‘But Jessie didn’t say anything was wrong when she brought Beth home. Although, come to think of it, I remember she seemed a bit preoccupied. But Beth hasn’t said anything went wrong with her visit; in fact, she said she’d had a good time. Oh dear,’ I said, suddenly remembering something, ‘I hope it hasn’t got anything to do with what Beth was wearing. She got herself ready and chose clothes that weren’t suitable. She also put on a lot of make-up, but there wasn’t time to do anything about it.’
‘I doubt that’s got anything to do with it,’ Marianne said. ‘Beth’s always dressing up, and Derek didn’t mention that. What he did say, though – which sounded odd to me – was that Jessie had stopped Beth from sitting on some of the other male patients’ laps and also from playing kiss chase. I’ve no idea what all that was about, and Derek didn’t seem to know.’
‘I’ve no idea,’ I agreed, puzzled and concerned. ‘Beth didn’t mention that to me.’ John gave a small sigh and picking up the newspaper opened it to the first page.
‘Marianne,’ I said, ‘I’m going to have to go soon. My husband has just returned home from work. Can we speak another time?’
‘Yes, sure, although that’s all, really. I take it Jessie hasn’t telephoned you with any more information?’
‘No.’