by Casey Watson
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think it will come to that now, do you?’
‘What?’ said Mike. ‘Is she talking about having a termination or something?’
‘Not at all,’ I said, sitting down wearily. ‘Quite the opposite. She says there’s no way she’s doing that and I’m pretty sure she won’t be shifted. But think about it.’ I raised a finger and thumb and held the tips together. ‘Social services are this close to taking Roman out of her care, I’m sure of it. And with all that’s happened – bloody overdoses, domestic violence, another pregnancy … I think we have to face it. It’s odds on they’re going to put him into care now.’
‘But he’s already in care, Mum,’ Riley pointed out. ‘You’re his carers! Don’t say that. Don’t say they’d do that – surely they’d let us keep him, wouldn’t they? Just transfer him over to you officially – wouldn’t that be how they’d work it? Just change it so that it’s you, and not Emma, who’s in charge of him.’
I shrugged. ‘I suppose they might, but I can’t quite see it. Can you, Mike? After all, we’re talking a whole different situation than the one we have with Emma. He’s a baby, remember – which means we really are talking long term. Who knows how long?’
We all fell silent, as we each contemplated the possible scenarios. None of which, frankly, I wanted. Oh, God, I thought, trying to imagine being Emma. Imagine the thought of that happening – ‘Sorry, love, but we’re taking your baby from you. That’s it. You failed. Say goodbye.’
I couldn’t begin to imagine where you’d start telling a girl that was going to happen. Whatever she’d said before about losing him and just ‘trying for another one’ I knew losing Roman would break Emma’s heart. And, thinking that, I realised something else, with a start: that this was the first time I’d properly addressed the possibility of giving Roman up myself. And it upset me. Upset me even more than I’d ever thought it would. And I knew why, too. Because all along I’d had this private sense of certainty that when Emma left us they would still have that connection with the family. That she’d stay in touch, that perhaps we’d see him – at the very least know how he was doing. Still feel connected to him. This was different. This was facing the very real possibility that Hannah would come and pick him up one day, we’d say our goodbyes, and that would be that; we’d never see him again.
It made me want to burst into tears. I cleared my throat. ‘Let’s not pre-judge,’ I said. ‘Let’s wait and see what happens. They know we’d be happy to keep him, and more importantly we’re also now cleared for babies. Which means … No, let’s wait. Let’s just wait and see.’
We didn’t have to wait very long. The very next day, before we’d even gone to collect Emma from hospital, Maggie was on the phone saying they’d made their decision. With the events of recent weeks, and in particular the events of yesterday, they had no choice. They were indeed taking Roman into care.
‘So we’ll come round to explain things later this afternoon, if that’s okay? Will you have got her home by then, do you think?’
I told her I would. ‘But, listen,’ I said. ‘Mike and I have been talking about this possibility arising and, you know, we really would like to foster him ourselves – honestly, Maggie, we’d be happy to. He’s settled here, he knows us, he has his routines and everything …’
Her voice cut across me like a gust of freezing air. ‘I don’t think that’s possible,’ she said. ‘In fact, I know it isn’t, because we’ve already discussed it. We feel it’s in Roman’s best interests if we remove him from Emma completely, and as you’re fostering Emma we can’t achieve that if we entrust him to you, can we?’ She sighed. ‘Look, I know you don’t want to hear it, Casey, but I’m afraid we don’t see this as a short-term arrangement – not a temporary thing … look, I’m sorry to cut you short, but I have to go into a meeting now. Have a chat with John, why don’t you? He’s up to speed with things. I’m sure he’d be happy to answer your questions …’
I gripped the chair back as I disconnected, thinking I was going to have a panic attack or something. My questions? Answer my questions? I could hardly catch my breath, let alone formulate questions, like this was some sort of administrative issue. What about feelings in all this? What about hearts?
I looked across at Roman, obliviously playing with his plastic bricks on the floor, and in that instant I knew I’d made the worst mistake ever in allowing this beautiful little boy to come into my life. I should have heeded Mike, should have heeded that inner voice that was so insistent. You’ll get too involved, it had kept saying to me. Don’t do it. You’ll get way too emotionally involved. And then have my heart broken. It was breaking now, as I watched him crawl excitedly towards me, with his chubby cheeks and his two front teeth and his powerful little fingers, clutching at the fabric of my jeans, gripping as he hauled himself up.
‘Meemaw,’ he was saying to me, grinning. ‘Meemaw! Meemaw!’ I scooped him up and held him close to me, my tears wetting his face. ‘Oh, baby,’ I said, ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’
I was crying when I phoned Mike and asked him if he could come home for a bit, and still crying when he phoned John Fulshaw – I simply couldn’t face it – and asked him if it was possible for Maggie or Hannah to go and pick Emma up tomorrow instead, because I simply couldn’t face doing any more of this on my own. They spoke for what seemed like ages, and I didn’t like the sound of any of it. And I’d been right.
‘It’s pretty straightforward, love,’ Mike said finally. ‘I’m sorry. As we’ve committed to keeping Emma then Roman really does have to go elsewhere. Clean break.’
‘Clean break?’ I sobbed. ‘There’s nothing “clean” about any of this!’
‘Love,’ he said softly, ‘they’ve already got a placement in mind for him. I get the feeling this was already done and dusted a couple of weeks ago. That they were just hanging on for the inevitable.’
‘Exactly. Just waiting for her to fail!’
Mike sat down beside me on the sofa. Roman was flat out asleep now, at the other end of it, one foot sticking out from the little cot blanket. ‘No, love, not that,’ Mike said. ‘Waiting and hoping that it didn’t have to come to that. Look, the bottom line is that we can choose if we want to. John didn’t say so in so many words. But the truth is that we can keep one of them – just not both of them. One or the other. If we weren’t committed to Emma then of course we’d be in with a shout at fostering Roman, but, as John said, it never came up, because they knew we wouldn’t do that.’
For a split second my brain went into a fast and furious overdrive. What if we did just that? Gave Emma up and concentrated our efforts on little Roman? And for a split second the idea felt so seductive. Swap this difficult teenager who wouldn’t listen to me, who couldn’t – wouldn’t – see reason. And particularly in relation to Tarim. This teenager who pigheadedly refused to listen to any of the advice I gave her, who let me down, abused my trust and gave me grief at every turn.
But even as the thoughts rose in my mind, the bile rose alongside them. What was I thinking? That wasn’t me. That wasn’t what I was here for. It was precisely for the reasons I’d just grabbed at to try and justify my selfish thinking that Emma needed me – needed all of us – so much more.
A zillion times more. She was damaged and she was hurting, and she’d already been rejected. What had I been thinking? It was utterly insane. That beautiful baby would most likely settle anywhere. Settle, and be happy, and forget. He would have no memory of the first complicated year of his life, and that would be a blessing. He might wonder later where he came from, try to establish his family tree. But having been so small, he would not remember any of it. And without memories to haunt him, he would not hurt. Not so much. Not in the way his poor, poor mother would, anyway.
No, we were committed, and we were right to be committed. Emma needed us. There was no going back now.
It was done swiftly and brutally, but then, was there any other way? No one meant to be brutal.
They were just saying words. But Emma’s howl, as she sank to her knees in the middle of the living room, was like that of a mortally wounded animal. ‘Oh, please, no,’ she pleaded. ‘Oh, please, please don’t do this. I’m begging you, please don’t take my baby from me!’
‘I’m so sorry, Emma,’ Maggie said, ‘but it’s out of our hands now. And he’s going to the loveliest couple, who will take such good care of him, I promise. And you can have contact, once it’s all sorted out, at the family centre, just like before, and you can take photographs, and so can they, and pass on letters and pictures and little presents and so on –’
But I could see that every word she said in an effort to make things better was just making it so, so much worse. ‘Please,’ Emma begged, ‘please. I’ll be a good mum, I promise. Casey, tell them – tell them what a good mum I am, please!’ She was on all fours now, rocking slightly, and clutching at my leg. I sank down next to her and pulled her close to me, feeling the thump of her heart in her skinny ribcage. I was crying too now. I didn’t have a clue what to say.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all I could manage. ‘I’m so sorry, sweetie, I really am. We’ll get through this, we’ll sort out contact, we’ll make it regular – and as soon as possible …’
Emma pushed me away then, though not roughly; just with a definite sense of purpose. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve she walked in a determined manner into the dining room, where Roman was sleeping in his buggy. Or rather had been. He was awake now and waving his arms at her.
‘When?’ she said, turning around. ‘When are you taking him?’
I looked at Maggie, wondering. A couple of weeks, perhaps? I hoped so. Give us time. Time with Roman, time to get everything sorted. Time, perhaps, for Emma to choose a couple of nice things to send with him. She’d always cared so much that he looked nice, after all.
‘Tomorrow,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll come back around 9 a.m.’
‘Tomorrow?’ I gaped. I could see the colour drain from Emma’s face. I stood up, and so did Mike – I think we both thought she might faint – but she only swayed and, looking at Roman, seemed to be torn about what to do. For a moment I thought she might actually snatch him up and make a run for it. But she didn’t. She simply touched his nose tenderly with her finger, than rushed past us both and out of the room.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Maggie said to Mike and me as the air in the room resettled. ‘I know this must be difficult. I know how much you have obviously all bonded with little Roman.’
‘Difficult?’ Mike gaped at her. ‘Difficult? You have no idea. This whole thing is just awful. We’re all in bits about it – Casey in particular. And we can’t even begin to imagine what’s going on in that poor girl’s head up there.’
He came across to me and put his arm around my shoulder. He squeezed it hard, and I tried equally hard not to start sobbing again all over him. It would just be so unseemly in such a measured, professional, even clinical sort of gathering. Which was exactly how it felt to me – clinical.
Mike obviously thought so too. ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ he said to the two women perched so incongruously on our sofa. ‘If there’s nothing else, I think we’d like to be left alone for a bit. First thing in the morning, you say? Well, we’ll have him all ready for when you get here. No point in prolonging the agony, is there?’ He sniffed. ‘If there’s paperwork to sort, then that’s fine, just let us know what you need later – email it through. Whatever. And we’ll make sure you have it ready for when you get here.’
Hannah stood up and smoothed her top down, closely followed by Maggie. ‘Would you like me to pop up and have another word with Emma before we go?’ Hannah asked me. ‘You know, just to make sure she’s okay?’
Mike shook his head stiffly. ‘Thanks, but I don’t think so.’
‘Right, then,’ said Maggie as we showed them out. ‘See you both in the morning, then. And once again, we’re sorry.’
Well, what else could they say?
Chapter 18
The day they took Roman away will remain etched in my memory for ever. Of all the difficult days I have ever experienced as a foster carer, saying goodbye to that little boy was one of the most traumatic. The whole family had come round to say farewell to him and support us. Mostly to support Emma, of course, because this was a terrible, terrible thing to happen in such a young life, and I already feared for the effect it might have on her. But also to support me, because I was an emotional wreck.
And I wasn’t the only one. Poor Kieron was so traumatised he couldn’t even bear to be a part of it, and when Maggie arrived he took himself off out into the back garden with his dog, Bob, both because he didn’t want anyone to catch him crying – which he was – but also because he just couldn’t cope. And I was so moved. Yes, I knew a part of it was related to his Asperger’s (he hated change) but it was also because, though Kieron hadn’t lived with Roman himself, Roman had become part of the family, just like all the other children who had passed through our lives – part of the ‘furniture’, part of the regular routine of Kieron and Lauren coming round to see us. As the song goes – he’d become accustomed to Roman’s face.
Riley and David had come round too and, bless her, my daughter understood. While David herded the boys into some semblance of order, she stayed close beside me, almost as if gently reminding me that there was new and greater happiness just around the corner, in the form of that new granddaughter that was on the way.
Right then, however, I was finding it difficult to keep it together. Who would have thought this would feel so much like a bereavement? Silly, because that’s exactly the conversation we’d had at the outset – that I would fall in love with this baby (I always fell in love with babies) and be desolate on the day he finally left us.
Maggie was quick and efficient. Recruiting David and little Levi, with Jackson clamouring to carry something too, she soon had all the belongings Roman would be taking with him in the car, and was passing Roman himself round for last hugs and kisses. I did mine quickly. I just couldn’t stand to prolong the pain further.
In the midst of all this was Emma, who’d dressed Roman in his newest favourite outfit: a pair of distressed jeans and sailor-style hoody that said ‘Captain’, topped off by the coolest little herringbone flat cap. And as I watched her bewildered face, amid all the bustle and activity, I tried to remember the last time I’d felt such a dull, heavy and all-embracing ache. And it truly all but finished me off when she finally took him from Maggie, hefting him high in her arms just to bring about that familiar chuckle, then crushing him tightly to her chest. ‘Come on, darling,’ she whispered, ‘just one last kiss for Mummy.’ It was so quiet then that you could hear every syllable.
I couldn’t bear to wave him off, so, though I knew my place was really beside Emma, I chickened out, and let Riley step in and console her. I needed to escape for a few minutes, so while everyone gathered on the doorstep I fled into the garden to be with Kieron. I shouldn’t have really, because – there was one thing that upset Kieron that was under my control, and that was him seeing me upset.
He took one look at me and I could see his features changing and crumpling. ‘Why do you still do this, Mum?’ he wanted to know. ‘How can you stand it? I don’t think I can cope with it again.’
I threw my arms around him, all six foot three of masculine angles and reassuring bulk, and felt moved beyond words at the simplicity of his logic. Why would you do something that made you periodically feel so empty? So sad? To Kieron’s mind, that made no sense.
‘You will cope, we all will. We’ll start to feel better. It’s part of the job. You know that saying? You have to be brave to love? Well, it’s true. It’s not for the fainthearted because it does hurt when things like this happen. But there’s a balance, and on balance it’s a job that makes me happy. Makes us all happy in our own way, don’t you think?’
Kieron nodded, though I could see he still wasn’t convinced.
‘And there’s another thing,’ I said. ‘We�
��ve got to remember Emma. It’s sad for us, but we’ve got to remember that Roman isn’t ours. It felt like he belonged to us, but, actually, he didn’t. He’s Emma’s and we have to be strong for her now. Hey,’ I said, ‘just think, if we feel like this, just imagine how she must be feeling.’
Kieron snorted bitterly. ‘It’s her fault, Mum! She could have done the right thing. But she didn’t and I’ll never forgive her for that.’
I was glad we were in the garden, well out of earshot of anyone. Kieron dealt in absolutes and right then that was how he felt, I knew.
I shook my head. ‘It’s not her fault, babes. She has lots and lots of problems. The odds were stacked against her from the start. What with her mother, and then Tarim, and look where she is now? Back in a bad place and it’s up to us to support her. We can’t turn away from her now, love. We have to help make sure she gets it right this time. Or else what’s the point? We have to help her.’
It was to prove easier said than done. Forget the histrionics and the ‘cry for help’ ‘overdoses’, now it seemed Emma really had lost the will to live. It was a good thing school had broken up, because it was all she could do to get out of bed at some point during the day, though at the same time the lack of a routine wasn’t helping – it would have been better if there had been something to distract her.
Other than Tarim, that was. He was still on the scene. Well, trying to be. But even Tarim couldn’t divert Emma’s attention from the pain she was so clearly feeling. They spoke often on the phone – I sometimes even heard them – but it seemed to be Tarim calling Emma, rather than Emma calling him, and on those occasions when I overheard any of their conversations, they seemed short, blunt, directionless, pointless-seeming phone calls, and a part of me at least hoped that whatever feelings she’d had for him would soon be extinguished – as they must surely be as the reality of what had happened began to sink in, including how much his behaviour had brought it about.