by Casey Watson
It was a second or two later when I realised he wasn’t alone either – that the dim light in the hallway was silhouetting two other people, and as they emerged I realised one of them was Emma.
The other was a male and, as they become more visible, I realised I was finally seeing Tarim.
They lingered in the doorway, while Mike jogged back to the car. I wound the window down. ‘What took you so long?’ I said. ‘And what’s going on now?’
‘Sorry, love,’ he answered. ‘Just been in summit talks, that’s all. I’ve had a good talk to both of them and I think they’re seeing reason.’ He grinned then. ‘No houseful of down-and-outs – just the two of them, looking sheepish. Emma’s quite upset, to be honest. I think she’s really torn.’ He squatted by the car door. ‘Trying to do what’s best – you know? Torn between doing the right thing and also keeping me laddo here happy …’
‘So is she coming with us now?’ I asked, looking past him to where they waited.
Mike nodded. ‘Yes, she is. With one provision. He wants to see our little man here. Just for a minute or two, and, honestly, love, the lad looks genuine. I said I’d ask you. Check you were happy. See what you said.’
I was shocked, and I’m sure my expression showed it. Mike was the one who’d been the most adamant about no contact, so this was a turnaround. But should we? How did we know he wouldn’t snatch Roman and run off with him? I didn’t think he would – this was the boy who’d pointed out how easily they could replace him with a new model, after all – but, even so, contact was contact and was denied for a reason. This was a convicted drug dealer, and though that was the offence that sent him to prison, in my experience there were usually other offences involved as well. We had to be responsible.
I glanced across and could see the pair of them, watching me intently. And tried to rationalise. What could happen, really? Mike was here, and a good head taller than Emma’s errant boyfriend. Not to mention wider …
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘just for a couple of minutes. If that’s what it’s going to take, then so be it. But I’m going to have to record it – or the pair of us’ll be the ones that find themselves in trouble. Tell them to come over here, though. It’s too cold to be walking about with him.’
Mike’s smile was broad. ‘I’ll go and tell them. Two minutes and that’s that. Then at least they can’t accuse us of not being understanding, can they?’
He whistled across to them and beckoned them to join us at the car while I got out, unbuckled Roman’s car seat and lifted it out. I put it gently on the bonnet of the car. The pavement just seemed way too grim a place for it.
Emma was there first. ‘Thanks so much, Casey,’ she said in a small voice. She looked wan in the evening gloom, and, without make-up, not a day more than her age. In fact, younger.
I turned to Tarim, who shocked me – also. He was a good-looking lad, dressed in the standard uniform of his age and type – the sort of jeans that started halfway down his buttocks and puddled above his pristine trainers, and a tatty-looking leather jacket that could have either been naturally or artificially distressed. But it was his youth that struck me most – he just looked so ridiculously young. In my head I had this vision of a hardened, swarthy criminal, but, of course, he wasn’t so old himself. The age of eighteen might well mark the start of a man’s adulthood, but this lad – and he was a lad – was all bum fluff and dewy skin. He was slight, too. I tried to imagine him in the harsh, uncompromising setting of a male adult prison, and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t, at all.
‘Here,’ I said, proffering the car-seat handle. ‘Take him for a minute. He might be grumpy, mind – he’s teething. Not to mention very tired.’
Emma had the grace to look guilty, as she watched her boyfriend set the car seat down on the pavement, very gently, then squat down and look intently at his son.
‘Hello, baby boy,’ he said, grinning. ‘How you doing?’ His teeth were bright white against his olive skin.
To my complete surprise, Roman grinned right back at him.
‘I’m sorry, mate,’ Tarim said quietly, making me feel almost embarrassed to be intruding. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been there. I really, really wish I could’ve. But I will be. I will be now, mate. We’ll make it work.’
If it had been scripted for a movie, it couldn’t have moved me more. I felt a lump grow in my throat and glanced at Mike, who seemed to feel the same. What shocked me most was that I didn’t expect to feel this way at all. I expected to feel angry on Emma’s behalf, judgemental about Tarim – even though that wasn’t normally like me. I expected to feel nothing but negative about this stupid boy who’d contributed to messing up all their lives.
But I didn’t, and when Tarim stood and said, ‘Oh, Ems, he’s beautiful. He’s just beautiful,’ all thoughts of telling him what a crappy boyfriend he’d been, and how he should leave them both alone and get the hell out of their lives, disappeared in a flash. Instead I felt moved, and very heavy of heart. Because all I could think was what a shame this all was and just how slim were the chances of them ever making it work. Because that was the problem with real life, wasn’t it? That it just wasn’t scripted like a movie.
Chapter 13
Sleep didn’t come easily that night. I just couldn’t seem to shift the image of Tarim looking down so tenderly at his baby. It just didn’t fit, that was the problem. Didn’t fit with my pre-formed image of a teenage ne’er-do-well and jailbird, and I was struggling to reconcile the two.
Emma had cried as we left Tarim, and cried on the journey home. But it had been a different kind of crying; it was soft, quiet, defeated. As if in that one tender exchange between her baby and his father she’d seen the same things as I had – that it was all hopeless, that it shouldn’t have worked out like this.
I tried to feel hopeful as I chewed everything over, sleep eluding me. Perhaps there was hope now for a happy ending. Nothing was settled yet, after all. But there was this feeling gnawing at me, from deep in the pit of my stomach, a heavy sense that it was probably all too little too late. Much as I hated to confront the idea, the fact was that, behind the scenes, maybe Emma was right – that plans were already being made to remove Roman from her care. I really hoped not, and tossed and turned, trying to fathom a way to stop that happening. Not an easy task. That was my last thought before I eventually fell asleep.
I felt no less gloomy the next morning. I stared out of the kitchen window, barely registering the prettiness of the garden or the bright, penetrating sunshine, focusing only on the spoon stirring my coffee as I waited for the rest of the house to wake up. It wasn’t very often that I got up before Mike, so I decided to treat him – popping eggs in a pan and bread in the toaster, so I could prepare his breakfast before his alarm went off. And as I looked out again, I saw a couple of late miniature daffodils poking out from the dingy undergrowth beneath my rose bushes. There was a metaphor right there, I thought, in those robust little flowers. A hopeful metaphor for what might transpire later. Something nice coming out of what on the surface looks dark. Well, I decided, there was no harm in hoping, was there?
Mike was predictably stunned and delighted by his surprise of boiled eggs and soldiers, and his happy mood as he left for work gave me another welcome injection of positivity. No, I wasn’t about to be economical with the truth when I made the phone calls that needed making, but neither was I going to pre-judge what the outcome might be.
‘Morning, love, morning, baby!’ I said brightly, tickling Roman under the chin, as he and Emma came down and joined me at around nine. ‘There’s some fresh toast and jam there,’ I went on, ‘and some coffee in the jug, too. Oh, and Roman’s bottle’s warmed, if you want to settle him with it before you eat.’
Emma looked wan – like she’d had even less sleep than I had – and I felt sorry for her. She wasn’t due in to her unit till lunchtime today, which was a blessing. ‘Love,’ I said, ‘I’ve got to phone Maggie Cunliffe now, like I told you. You know I have to do that,
don’t you?’ Emma nodded as she transferred Roman to her other hip. ‘It’s the only way,’ I said. ‘The only way we’re going to straighten all this mess up. And don’t worry – I haven’t forgotten this is your lives we’re talking about, not just Roman’s. So I’ll be telling her about your and Tarim’s wishes, too.’
She nodded again, looking tearful, and I put a hand on her arm. ‘It’ll be okay, love,’ I said. ‘Let’s just see what they have to say, eh?’
‘Yeah,’ she said. Just ‘yeah’. No ‘whatever’.
I went out and sat in the garden to call Maggie. Perhaps the proximity to those unexpected blooms would bring good luck. Not that I should see Maggie as an adversary, because she wasn’t, but having met Tarim now, and feeling so unexpectedly ambivalent about what should happen next for these two kids, I couldn’t help but feel slightly gladiatorial.
‘Oh dear,’ said Maggie, once I’d outlined the events of the last few days and alerted her to the email already in her inbox. ‘I hadn’t realised things were heading in this direction, Casey. And I certainly didn’t realise that Tarim had been making waves as far as Roman is concerned. And you say they’ve been seeing each other. Did you and Mike agree to this?’
I bristled at this. ‘Hardly,’ I said. ‘It certainly wasn’t on our agenda. Maggie, it’s not been easy, this. If Emma goes out Mike and I don’t follow her. We didn’t know Tarim was out and about to be seen by Emma, did I? Anyway, the point is that we have made clear that he can’t have contact till it’s been authorised, but last night when we picked her up we both made the decision that no harm could come of allowing him to come over and at least see him. It’s so obvious he’s Tarim’s, Maggie. Whatever Emma’s said in the past.’
‘So where do we go from here?’ Maggie asked.
‘I think you should meet him. I think the best way forward would be if you and Hannah came here and we all had a meeting. Emma and Tarim included. Discuss things properly. The thing is that Mike and I were talking and it seems to us that if these two plan on staying together – and the baby’s going to be a part of that, obviously – then it makes sense to think of all three of them as a package, and work with them accordingly.’
‘Let me speak with my manager,’ Maggie said. ‘I do see what you mean, absolutely. But it’s a question of whether we’re in a position to be able to do that. All we know about Tarim is what we’ve heard from Emma, obviously, and, as you know, none of that’s terribly good, unfortunately. I tell you what, I’ll call Hannah now, relate what you’ve told me – save you having to do it – and see if we can fix a time for us both to come to you together. Then I’ll speak to my manager. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll get back to you.’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Anything positive I can tell Emma in the meantime? She’s obviously anxious …’
‘Not yet, Casey. Let’s just see what transpires first.’
I wasn’t thrilled that I wouldn’t be speaking to Hannah myself. I could imagine her and Maggie’s conversation all too well. That and the thought process that would follow for Hannah. Baby in care. Her responsibility. Tarim out of prison. Emma flouncing off to see him against our wishes. Seeing Roman. Jailbird. Drug dealer. Jailbird. Drug dealer. Does-not-compute.
But much as I would have liked to frame things in language that wouldn’t sound quite so damning, I didn’t want to push it. And who knew, perhaps if Hannah actually met Tarim she might feel differently, just as I had. She might at least feel more inclined to give the pair of them a smidgen of a chance to prove they could be responsible parents. Well, I could only live in hope, couldn’t I? I went back into the living room, plastering an optimistic smile on my face as I did so.
Emma looked up from where she was sitting, cross-legged on the floor. She’d been multi-tasking, clearly – texting someone one handed, while the other tickled Roman’s tummy as he played on his play mat at her side.
I assumed the someone might be Tarim, but I was wrong. It was Tash.
‘What did she say?’ Emma asked me, once again without any attitude. No eye-rolling, scowling or other similar indicators that whatever anyone at social services said would be bad.
‘She’s going to have a chat with her manager, and we’re going to set up a meeting,’ I told her. ‘All of us – you, me and Hannah –’
But Emma was only half listening as a new text came in. ‘What day?’ she wanted to know. ‘Because I was wondering if I could text Tash back – tell her I can take Roman into town with her on Saturday. She’s taking her little cousin and we thought we could all meet up. Her baby’s due soon, too, so I said I’d help her choose some baby stuff. And I promise, Casey – we won’t be going anywhere near Tarim …’
‘I didn’t imagine you would be,’ I said, smiling. ‘Not after last night’s malarkey, missy. No, I don’t imagine it will be on Saturday. Probably next week some time.’
I sat down on the sofa. Since she’d brought Tarim up, I thought I might too.
‘So,’ I said, ‘what’s Tarim up to now he’s out? Does he have some work lined up? A plan? What’s he doing with himself?’
She finished her text, threw the phone down, then pulled Roman to his feet. He loved her doing that now; letting him bounce on his chubby legs, loved to feel the weight of them. Before we knew it he’d be crawling and, soon after that, walking. And all hell would break loose once that happened.
‘Right now?’ Emma said. ‘Sorting his flat out. He’s going to the auctions with his dad Saturday, see if they can sort out some decent furniture.’
‘He’s staying there then, is he?’ I asked her. ‘From what I could see those flats looked almost derelict. Half of them didn’t even seem to have windows.’
Emma pulled a face. She clearly agreed. ‘It’s horrible. I hate going there. It’s really ropey. And he has to use tokens to get electricity. And he’s got no money most of the time now so it’s always dark, and there’s no heating either. But only one of the windows is broken, and at least he has a sofa bed,’ she added.
I shook my head, wondering quite how the place she described could ever be considered a suitable place for a baby to come visit. I was no snob – I’d been brought up on a council estate myself – but the thought of having to live in one of those flats made me shudder. Talk about grim sixties concrete jungle. They were like going back in time fifty years.
Still, I thought, as I chivvied Emma to get showered and dressed and ready, at least he had somewhere to live. And he was getting furniture with his dad, which meant his dad was engaged, which was a positive. He was at least trying.
When the phone rang a couple of hours later, I naturally assumed it would be Maggie. But it wasn’t. It was John Fulshaw. Had Maggie been in overdrive? Was he already in the picture too?
‘I’ve been speaking to Maggie,’ he confirmed, answering my unspoken question. ‘And Hannah Greenwood,’ he added, ‘and my manager.’
‘That sounds promising,’ I said, gauging from his tone that things looked positive. ‘Do we have a verdict on things, then?’
‘Not quite that,’ he said. ‘But it looks like we do have a trial of sorts, planned. To which end, we need to organise a full planning meeting. I know it’s short notice, but we’d like both you and Mike to attend, and if it’s in any way possible, for it to happen on Monday.’
‘Wow, that is fast,’ I said.
‘And Emma and Tarim as well. Obviously. And Tarim’s father, too.’
‘His father?’ This was particularly good news. Though Tarim was an adult, social services wouldn’t consider him a responsible adult, not with him just having come out of prison for a drug-related offence.
‘Yes,’ John confirmed, ‘they’ve already tracked him down too. Which isn’t too surprising …’ he chuckled. ‘Tarim’s already in the system, of course, due to other misdemeanours – been dealing a while, this kiddo – and he knows he hasn’t a cat in hell’s chance of being allowed contact unless dad steps up to the plate and gets involved as well. Which he is apparently
prepared to do. I don’t think they’re a bad family, particularly. Dad’s all right, I’m told. Just got a bit of a handful in the case of this particular son. But, yes, they’re both agreeable and, well, all credit to the lad now at least he seems engaged with the process. So that’s a positive, isn’t it?’
One of many, I hoped. And I was glad to hear that Tarim came from an okay sort of a family – that he wasn’t part of some dreadful criminal gang. ‘It sure is,’ I agreed. ‘And that’s a coincidence, as well. I was only talking to Emma about Tarim’s dad earlier. Sounds like they’re taking all this seriously, then, yes?’
‘Oh, without a doubt,’ John agreed. ‘So you think Mike will be able to do Monday?’
‘Oh, I’m sure he can. It’ll only be a half day off. They’ll be fine. So, when and where? Here as usual?’
‘No, not this time. Given the circumstances we thought it best to opt for a neutral location. We don’t really know enough about Tarim or his dad to have them invading your and Mike’s privacy. So here at the office, we thought, if that works for you. Hannah’s going to liaise with Tarim and his dad.’
‘Brilliant,’ I said. The day was shaping up better than I’d expected. ‘But, off the record, do you have any idea what might happen next? What the plan actually is?’
‘Not exactly,’ John said, chuckling. ‘So you’ll have to hold your horses. But I think we’re all of a mind where Tarim is concerned. If he’s going to be on the scene now – and it seems he is, doesn’t it? – then better that we’re all involved in what happens in regard to Roman than his having free rein and keeping us all at arm’s length.’