by Cathy Glass
As this sank in, I gasped and was about to say very vigorously what I thought of that, but Sonya Gillings was still talking.
‘I said that was rubbish, and then told him off for lying again. He didn’t deny it.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, relieved. ‘Thank you very much indeed. Let me assure you there most certainly is a quiet place for Tayo to do his homework. My house is geared up for studying. One of my children is at college and the other is in her GCSE year. They have a lot of homework, regularly.’
‘Don’t worry, I didn’t believe him for a second. I’ll make sure he has his English homework from last night in his bag, and also the science for the weekend.’
‘Thank you,’ I said again. ‘I’ve told Tayo to be ready at three-fifteen as he has contact.’
‘I’ll make sure he is. They’ve found his mother then?’
‘Yes. He’ll be seeing her every Tuesday and Friday.’
‘OK, Cathy, I’ll make a note of that. And by the way, he loves his school bag.’
‘Good. I just hope he’ll remember to put his homework in it.’
She laughed.
It was reassuring to know that Sonya Gillings wasn’t easily taken in, but worrying at how easily the lies slipped from Tayo’s lips. It was hard to understand why he did it when it gained him so little and cost him in the way of our trust – he was clearly intelligent, so he must understand that. Still, I reminded myself, this little boy had been living on his wits with his mother for five years; lying and deceit had probably been an everyday occurrence, part of their survival. I would need to remain understanding but at the same time teach Tayo that this kind of behaviour was destructive and wrong.
I made a mug of coffee, brought my log up to date, then tackled the housework. I had been out of the house for most of the day before, and had some catching up to do. Adrian and Lucy, still on holiday, got up at eleven, made themselves toasted cheese sandwiches and then decided to go bowling together. Lucy was returning to college the following week, and said she’d better make the most of her last days of freedom. Adrian still had another ten days to go before returning to university, and I had already made a note in my diary to take him, a week on Sunday. I’d decided that Tayo would be coming with us. Although I could leave him with the girls in charge, I would be away from the house for the best part of five hours and, in view of recent events, I didn’t feel comfortable with that. There would be room in the car as most of Adrian’s things had stayed in his room on campus over the Christmas holiday, and it would do Tayo good to see inside a university and what awaited him if he worked hard and did well at school.
I collected Tayo from school without any trouble. He was ready and waiting for me besides Mrs Gillings’ desk, his coat zipped up and his school bag on his back.
‘Tayo’s had a good day, and he’s got all his homework and knows what to do,’ said Mrs Gillings.
‘Excellent,’ I replied. ‘Thank you very much. Come on then, Tayo, we’ve got to be quick.’ He hopped to my side, and we both said goodbye to Mrs Gillings, and I wished her a good weekend.
In the car, Tayo was quiet. We were going straight to the Headline Family Centre, and the meeting with his mother was no doubt playing on his mind. I knew the feeling – I was not looking forward to this second encounter with Minty. Although it would only be brief – I would take Tayo into the centre and hand him over to Minty and the supervisor – I still had to meet her. Sometimes I chatted for a few minutes with the parents if they wanted to, but this wasn’t likely with Minty. And whereas the Social Services offices had security guards, the family centre did not.
‘Have you been to the centre before?’ Tayo asked from the back seat.
‘Oh, yes, lots of times,’ I said. ‘Though not for a couple of years.’
‘Will there be other children there?’
‘Yes, but in separate rooms, seeing their parents. It’s very nice, they make it like home.’ I’d already explained quite a bit about the family centre, and how he and his mother would be in a large room decorated like a lounge, with curtains, and carpet, lots of toys and books, a sofa and a television. I also explained that there would be a supervisor present who would sit to one side and make notes. There would be tea, coffee, fruit juice, biscuits and a microwave oven in the shared kitchen where parents could heat up or make simple dishes so the family could eat together. Everything was done to make the atmosphere as homely as possible – but the families were supervised all the time.
It could not be easy trying to be normal where one’s words and actions were being noted down and interpreted by a third person, who would then write a report detailing the time spent with the child, the success of the relationship and parenting skills. It must be unsettling and intimidating, although supervisors tried their hardest to keep their role as neutral and unobtrusive as possible. But there are good reasons why the supervision is necessary; apart from assessing the parent, the supervisor also made sure the child was protected from any further abuse.
When we arrived, I saw Tayo glancing anxiously at the tall security controlled gate as I parked the car. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘It’s to stop the little children from running into the road.’
‘Can I show Mum my new bag and crayons?’ he said, as we got out of the car. He’d taken off his bag when he’d got into the car and it was still on the rear seat.
I hesitated. Was it diplomatic to have this purchase thrust in Minty’s face when she hadn’t even been able to buy the essentials, let alone an Adidas bag? But then again she’d already seen him at the placement meeting in his new school uniform, coat and shoes, so I thought it wouldn’t matter. ‘Yes, OK.’
He reached in and pulled out the bag, then swung it over one shoulder. We went up to the centre together, up a short path, flanked by lawn, and to the main door which was security locked. A large terracotta tub containing a colourful display of winter pansies was to one side.
‘They look nice, don’t they?’ I said as I pressed the buzzer. ‘Cathy Glass with Tayo Mezer for contact,’ I said into the intercom, and the doors clicked open. We went into reception and a man in his mid-thirties came out to meet us.
‘Hi,’ he said, in a very friendly manner. ‘I’m James, the manager. I won’t be supervising, my colleague Aisha will be. She’s with Mum now.’
‘I’m Cathy Glass, Tayo’s carer,’ I said. The staff had changed since I’d last brought a child here two years before.
‘Yes, Sandra informed us,’ he said. ‘And she’s booked an escort to take Tayo home.’
Good efficient Sandra, she’d organized and informed. While she was only doing her job, it was surprising how often I’d turned up with a child for an appointment to find they didn’t even know my name.
‘Minty would like to speak to you,’ James said.
‘Would she?’ I was surprised in view of her attitude at the placement meeting, and not a little concerned. Tayo looked worried too.
‘You know about yesterday?’ I asked James.
He nodded. ‘She’s a lot calmer now, but I’ll see you through and stay. It’ll only take a minute. Are you all right with that?’
‘Yes.’ I could hardly refuse to speak to a parent when she’d asked; it wouldn’t be professional. Tayo and I followed James out of reception, past the kitchen, where another worker was washing up mugs, and down a short corridor. It was a single-storey building with the six contact rooms leading off the main corridor. There was a well-equipped play area outside at the back for the children to use in good weather. The décor hadn’t changed much since my last visit, only the staff were new. The doors to the six contact rooms were painted different colours, and the rooms took their names from that colour.
‘You’re in Yellow Room today,’ James said to Tayo, and stopped outside the door. It was closed. James peered through the glass panel, knocked and entered.
‘Tayo and his carer are here,’ he said, standing in the doorway.
I heard a voice say, ‘Fine,’ but it
wasn’t Minty’s. I hoped James’s assurance that Minty was calmer remained true.
‘Come in,’ James said, leading the way. Tayo and I followed. Minty and another woman were on the sofa. ‘This is Aisha, who’s supervising,’ James said. He turned to me. ‘You’ve already met Mrs Mezer, haven’t you, Cathy?’
‘Yes, hello again. Nice to meet you, Aisha.’ I smiled over at them.
Minty did look calmer and her face had lost the taut anger of yesterday, but her long tangled hair was even more dishevelled and didn’t appear to have been brushed in the interim. She was wearing a pair of pink hipster jogging bottoms with a white, cotton, almost see-through top. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples were obvious through the material. The top was short and there was a gap between this and the jogging pants. Her belly button was pierced and a large red stone hung from a gold ring. As she bent forward, it disappeared into the roll of fat round her middle. Not only was it unsightly but completely inappropriate attire for contact. I felt sorry for Minty. This wasn’t going to create a good impression – she looked liked she’d come straight from a hard night on the town.
Minty had delved into a large shopping bag by her foot and was now pulling out a box of After Eight Mints. She came towards me with the box held out. ‘Here. Take these,’ she said, thrusting them at me. ‘You’re looking after my son. You caught me on a bad day yesterday.’ She spoke English with only a trace of an accent.
I smiled and took them. ‘Thank you, but there was no need to do that.’ James hovered to my right while Tayo went over to the sofa and sat in the place his mother had vacated. ‘Thank you,’ I said again.
‘It’s nothing. But those buggers yesterday wound me up a treat. It’s not your fault. Just make sure you look after my son. I’ll have you if you don’t.’ She didn’t say it in a threatening way, but the matter-of-fact coldness unsettled me even more than if she had shouted and blustered.
I saw James make a little movement to my right. I wasn’t sure what to say to Minty. On the one hand she’d given me chocolates, and apologized (sort of) but on the other she had issued a veiled threat. ‘I’ll look after Tayo very well,’ I said. ‘And thanks again for the chocolates.’ It crossed my mind to ask her if there was anything she’d like to discuss about her son’s care, but I didn’t think I’d push my luck. I had the feeling that her calmer mood could quickly evaporate, and be replaced by something I didn’t particularly want to witness.
I took a step towards the door. ‘See you later,’ I called to Tayo. But he’d found the remote to the television and was engrossed in trying to make it work. ‘Nice to see you again,’ I said to Minty. She shrugged and, turning her back, walked away. James held the door open for me, then followed me out, closing it behind him.
‘I can’t accept these chocolates,’ I said to James as we walked back to reception. ‘Would you like to share them amongst the staff?’
‘Sure. We’d be glad to take them off your hands,’ he said, and I gave him the chocolates. He knew the reason why. It was all right to accept a small gift from a parent at the end of a placement, when the case had been to court and the decision on the child’s future made, but anything before that could be interpreted as collusion, possibly leading to a misplaced loyalty. And while a small box of chocolates was hardly going to influence anything I wrote about what Tayo told me about his mother, it was better to be safe than sorry and accept nothing.
‘Enjoy,’ I said to James as he saw me out.
‘Will do.’
I returned to the car and breathed a sigh of relief. Given the state Minty had been in yesterday, this encounter hadn’t been too bad. The fact that she’d recognized her behaviour the day before was not acceptable and had made the gesture of an apology with the gift, was promising. Although I would be on my guard in my dealings with her, I hoped that if Minty’s attitude continued to improve, I would be able to work with her in the future.
Chapter Eleven
Loss of Trust
With an hour and a half before Tayo was due to return home, I decide to stop off at the shopping mall quickly. Lucy and Paula had been agitating for some time about buying a Skype phone. They’d downloaded some software that would enable them to talk to their friends through the Internet for nothing. All they needed now was the phone for the computer, which they said would only cost £20. I had been won over. My telephone bill was on the up, and their continuous use of the line meant that the phone was blocked for most of the evening, almost all week. And although all three of them had pay-as-you-go mobiles, I appreciated the high cost of calls made it impossible for them to use their mobiles for extensive chats, apart from any health concerns I had about the level of radiation. So I’d agreed.
I parked in the multistorey and nipped down in the lift. Thirty minutes later I was back in the car with the Skype phone in a bag. I drove to the exit barrier and fed in the ticket. The minimum charge of £1.00 popped up on the machine and I reached down to take the coin from the plastic well in front of the gear stick. It was empty. I switched on the interior light and peered in, running my fingers round the inside. Damn! I thought. I quickly opened my handbag on the passenger seat and pulled out my purse. A car drew up behind me. I rummaged through the change section of my purse and found a collection of coins that the machine would accept. With relief, I fed them in, as the car behind tooted. The barrier lifted. I snapped my purse shut, threw it on the passenger seat, and drove out.
I knew for certain that there had been change in the car. I always kept change there, not only for car parks but also for the parking meters that now littered all the roads in the town. My stock of coins never ran dry as I replenished it regularly from the loose change in my purse. I’d used it that morning when I’d stopped off briefly at the supermarket. I remembered I’d taken out two 20p coins, and there had been plenty left, probably over £4.
My stomach contracted, and an unpleasant taste settled in my mouth. Tayo knew about the money. I’d pointed it out to him after our shopping trip the day before yesterday, when he’d been concerned that I wouldn’t have the cash for the car park. Had he taken it? I didn’t want to consider the possibility but, if I was honest, there was no other explanation. No one had been in the car besides Tayo and myself, and if any other member of the family had urgently needed change they would have asked me, and I would have given them the car keys and told them to help themselves. But they hadn’t, not for months. My heart sank. Tayo had stolen it.
We’d had children living with us before who’d stolen, and it had created a very unpleasant and unnatural situation in the house. It was not the value of what had gone missing that caused the upset and anxiety, but the strain of living on a daily basis knowing we did not dare leave anything of value unattended. Adrian, Lucy and Paula often left their mobiles and money downstairs, and I’d dump my handbag in the hall. My digital camera was always on hand in the lounge to take a picture that might go into the album. But that had to change when someone dishonest was about. Even worse, I had to ask any visitors to make sure their valuables were kept with them, particularly handbags, which were easy pickings for a thief.
How I hated the word thief with all its connotations – but if Tayo had taken the money, then that was what he was. I dearly hoped I was wrong, however slim that chance might be.
When I got home, Adrian, Lucy and Paula were in their respective bedrooms. I went to each of them in turn and asked if they’d borrowed the loose change from the car. ‘No,’ they each said, and Lucy added, ‘I would have told you.’
‘I know, love.’
I went downstairs, and quickly checked each room for items that could have disappeared, but I couldn’t see anything missing. Then I went back upstairs with a heavy heart. This bit was more difficult, and I loathed what I had to say. I went again to each of the children and explained that the money had gone from the car, and they should keep their valuables with them, or in their bedrooms, for now. They knew what I meant, and I also knew they felt as uncomfortable
as I did with the situation.
Adrian said, ‘Sure, Mum. We had someone nicking stuff at uni last term.’
‘Did you?’ I asked, surprised. ‘You didn’t say.’
‘No. I wasn’t targeted. We’re supposed to keep our doors locked at all times, but you don’t. It’s just impossible to remember all the time, especially if you’re just popping along the corridor to the kitchen or to a mate’s room. Someone had been going into the rooms and taking their stuff – money, cards, MP3 players, DVDs, anything that was easy. They caught her. But it took a while. It wasn’t anyone on my floor.’
‘What happened to her?’ I asked, dismayed at the thought of a university student stealing from her fellow students.
‘They threw her out. They’re pretty strict with that sort of thing.’
‘Poor girl – what a stupid way to destroy your future.’
Downstairs, I made dinner, unable to think of anything else but what I’d have to say later. This wasn’t like university – throwing Tayo out certainly wasn’t an option. I would have to deal with it, and try and alter his behaviour, but in the meantime we would all unfortunately have to be vigilant.
What really upset me was the loss of the trust we’d had between us. It was such an important part of everyday life and without it, things would be a great deal less comfortable. Once lost, it took time to regain.
The clock on the cooker ticked along. At five-thirty I knew Tayo would be saying goodbye to his mother and leaving the centre. The traffic would be heavy so I wasn’t expecting him until six, then we would all sit down to eat. After that I would speak to him, though exactly what I would say I couldn’t think.
Sure enough, just before six o’clock, the doorbell went. Wiping my hands on the kitchen towel, I went down the hall and opened the door. Tayo was on the doorstep, accompanied, to my surprise, by Aisha. ‘Hello. I didn’t know you were bringing Tayo home,’ I said.