by Angela Hart
Jonathan read my mind, as he often does. ‘How worried are you that she’ll try to sneak out tonight?’
I knew it was not beyond the realms of possibility but I really couldn’t imagine that she would try it, at least not on this first night. We’d sat together for about an hour in the kitchen, drinking tea, and I’d listened to her talk very frankly. It was extremely hard to imagine she would suddenly turn from being a polite, open and apparently honest girl into a reckless runaway, even if she had just made contact with this boyfriend from the unit.
‘No, I don’t think she will run away tonight,’ I said. ‘But please don’t quote me on that.’
I didn’t sleep well. Melissa’s bedroom was directly above ours and every creak and movement put me on my guard. After a restless night I woke with a jolt early the next morning when the heating started to come on. The sound of the pipes groaning into action made me jump. I felt like I’d barely slept a wink and my head was aching. Jonathan’s generally a better sleeper than me but he’d also been awake several times in the night, sitting bolt upright in bed, straining his ears to work out if the sounds of the house might be Melissa’s footsteps on the stairs or the turn of a key in the door.
I’d shown Melissa where we kept the keys to the front and back door. I had to do this so she knew how to get out in case of emergency. I could see how tempting it might be to hide them, to stop her getting up to her old habits, but of course we could never do that. It would be a fire hazard and we’d be opening ourselves up to accusations of safeguarding malpractice, or possibly even false imprisonment. We also had locks on all the windows, but again there were keys at hand and I had shown Melissa where we kept them, just as I did with every child when they first arrived, when I gave them a tour of the house. I’d also talked about the best escape route from the house in case of fire, as this was another part of our standard safety routine whenever a new child moved in.
I put on my dressing gown and slippers and headed downstairs to put the kettle on. It was too early to wake Melissa, though I desperately wanted to go up to her bedroom and check she was still there. When I reached the hallway I was relieved to see her trainers were where she had left them the night before, and the front and back doors were still locked.
We’d survived one night. I slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, feeling shattered and wondering how on earth we were going to cope like this for five weeks.
5
‘She’s not welcome here’
Once Melissa was up I offered to take her shopping in town and she jumped at the chance. She’d brought plenty of things with her, including her school uniform, but nothing was in great condition and she didn’t own a pair of slippers, pyjamas or a dressing gown. She told me she always slept in her tracksuit bottoms and T-shirts. I wanted to question this, as I was certain her former foster carers would have made sure she had a nightie or pyjamas, but I didn’t want to seem nosy, or critical of anybody. Also, as I’d learned on my training, children may do things that remind them of home. There may be a sensitive reason behind their behaviour or habits, and to question them may upset them unnecessarily. Not wearing night clothes could have stemmed back to when Melissa lived at home, so I kept quiet.
‘I love shopping for tracksuits,’ Melissa said enthusiastically as she crunched on a large bowl of cereal. ‘I like Adidas and Puma, they’re my favourite brands. I like shell suits too, in any colour.’
I told her she didn’t have to stick with tracksuits and shell suits but she said she didn’t feel comfortable in anything else, and the baggier the better. Again I didn’t judge or question her and besides, whatever she wore, I noticed that Melissa managed to look good. Her mane of red hair looked stunning even when it hadn’t been brushed and was hanging like a shawl around her shoulders, as it was now. Oh to be young! I thought.
She said she’d have a quick shower and be ready ‘in a jiffy’ and I laughed and told her I’d be a bit longer than that, as I needed to wash my hair and put a bit of make-up on in order to make myself look ‘presentable’. She giggled and told me she thought I looked great as I was, which made my morning. I felt like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards and was sure I must have huge bags under my eyes after such a disrupted night’s sleep.
We drove the short distance into town, as it was bitterly cold. Melissa wore a large puffa jacket but refused to wear a hat or gloves. She didn’t own either but I offered her some of mine, which horrified her. ‘What if I saw one of my boyfriends and I was in one of your bobble hats!’ she laughed. ‘I’d never be able to live it down!’
‘One of your boyfriends?’
From what Melissa had told me, I understood that the two boys she’d mentioned – Oz and Degsy – were still in the unit.
‘Yeah, I’ve got a boyfriend called TJ. He’s my proper boyfriend.’
‘I see.’ I raised my eyebrows expectantly, hoping she’d tell me more. She was a sharp and perceptive girl. It was obvious I was all ears but Melissa shrugged and said, ‘I don’t know what I can tell you about him really.’
‘Is TJ his nickname? Does he have another name?’
She furrowed her brow and thought about this for a moment. ‘I’m not sure. Everyone just calls him TJ. Anyway, can we go in that big sports shop at the top of the high street?’
‘Yes we can.’
‘Good. I love it in there. I’d like to get a job there when I’m fourteen. You get a staff discount.’
Melissa began telling me about some of the jobs her friends had. One worked in a sweet shop, another had a job at a riding school. An older boy worked in a local taxi rank and another in a kebab shop. ‘They earn the most,’ she said. ‘You get more when you’re older.’
‘How old are they?’
‘Fifteen or sixteen.’
Melissa was nearly thirteen – her birthday was in a couple of months – so I tried to reason that it wasn’t surprising she hung around with boys who were a few years older. I wondered if they were part of the gang she ran off with, and I made a mental note to listen out for any more information I could get on the boys, or any other of her friends or boyfriends for that matter, in case Melissa went missing again.
When we got home from town there was a message on the answerphone from Anne-Marie. She sounded cross and asked me to call her back as soon as possible.
‘Any idea what that’s about?’ I asked Melissa, as she was standing next to me when I played the message.
‘No idea. I’m gonna try my new stuff on. Thanks for everything, it’s really kind.’
I’d bought Melissa a couple of new tracksuits, some underwear and slippers and a man-size T-shirt to wear in bed. She picked that out when I gently nudged her towards the nightwear section, telling me she’d wear it with her tracksuit bottoms underneath.
Melissa scooted upstairs with her shopping bags and I dialled Anne-Marie’s number.
‘I’m afraid I can’t have Melissa seeing Imogen again. She’s not welcome here.’
‘Whatever’s happened?’
‘Last night, she gave Imogen a packet of condoms. My daughter is twelve years old! I know Melissa hangs around with some older boys and I don’t want Imogen mixing with that lot. I think you need to really watch her, Angela. She knows how to act all sweet and innocent, but God only knows what she gets up to with those kids from the estate. There’s some bad pennies in amongst that lot. Imogen said they turned up at the corner shop last night. One of them was bragging about getting questioned by the police about something, and another one said he was on bail for a stabbing.’
My heart sank. It was one thing Melissa associating with the law-breaking youths in the secure unit, but out on the streets was quite another. I thanked Anne-Marie for tipping me off and assured her I would explain to Melissa that she wasn’t allowed to see Imogen. If she turned up at the house, Imogen would not be allowed to let her in or go out with her. Anne-Marie was very firm about this, and she said Melissa was not to phone either. I said I understood and we s
aid goodbye amicably. Anne-Marie’s parting words were, ‘I’m glad you haven’t got any other kids with you, Angela.’
I called up to Melissa, saying I wanted a word, and she bounded down the stairs like an excited puppy, all legs and elbows, sporting one of her new tracksuits.
‘What do you think?’
She gave a twirl and I said she looked very good in it. Then I sat her down in the kitchen and told her straight what Anne-Marie had said.
‘What’s her problem?’ Melissa scowled, looking genuinely perplexed. ‘I mean, we were only talking to the boys.’
‘So why the condoms?’
‘Oh that, yeah, that was just a joke. One of the lads was mucking about with them. We were all chucking them at each other. Imogen ended up with them, that’s all. I don’t know why she took them home. She should have just thrown them away.’
‘Melissa, are you involved with these older boys?’
‘Involved? Do you mean having sex with them?’
I wouldn’t have put it to her as bluntly as that, but I was glad she wasn’t afraid to discuss things so frankly.
‘Yes, I suppose that’s what I do mean. Or doing anything else you shouldn’t?’
‘No. Absolutely not. I can’t believe you’ve even asked me that. I’m only twelve! And they’re dickheads anyway. Sorry, I mean idiots. Sorry to use bad language. I wouldn’t touch them with a bargepole, not like that.’
She sounded like she was telling the truth.
‘What about drinking and smoking? I know you’ve done both in the past, but what about now?’
‘I sometimes drink a little bit of cider or have a drag on a fag. I won’t lie to you. Everyone does it. I’ve tried a bit of pot too, but I don’t like it. Drugs scare me. I’d never get mixed up in anything like that. Heroin terrifies me. They say you take it once and you’re hooked for life. It’s a loser’s game. No, I’d never ever be daft enough to do that.’
I listened and didn’t pass any judgement or show any shock. Instead, I talked matter-of-factly to Melissa, starting with our rules on smoking. We knew that some foster carers allowed kids to smoke in the house because they were addicted and were going to smoke anyhow, but we never did. Our way of handling this has always been to talk to them about the dangers of smoking and how addictive it is. We accepted we couldn’t stop them smoking outside the house, but we hoped our stance discouraged their habit. Jonathan and I had both smoked when we were younger and found it very hard to give up, and the fact we had first-hand experience sometimes helped us get through to the kids, though not always.
Melissa’s response was, ‘I know you’re right but it’s hard when you’ve been smoking since you were a kid.’ I suspected Melissa was a regular smoker now, not just a girl who sometimes had a ‘drag on a fag’, as she’d said.
I went on to talk about how alcohol was very damaging to health and could lead to inappropriate or dangerous behaviour, and how cannabis could be a ‘gateway’ drug, leading to harder substances.
‘You don’t have to worry about me, you know. I can handle myself.’
That evening Melissa asked if she could go and meet her boyfriend TJ.
‘I’d like to meet him,’ I said.
She laughed and asked me why.
‘He’s your boyfriend, and I always like to get to know the friends and boyfriends of anyone who stays here. Why don’t you ask him to come here, and I can say hello?’
‘You just want to check him over, see if he’s all right, don’t you?’ she said cheekily.
‘I have to be honest, that’s part of it. I care about you, Melissa, and I want to know who you’re with and make sure you are safe.’
‘OK, I’ll see what he says. Will that mean I can stay out later, if he’s taking care of me?’
‘No, it doesn’t! You still have to be in by nine. But if you think about it, if he’s collecting you and bringing you home, you’ll get more time with him, won’t you?’
She accepted this with a smile and asked me if she could ring him.
‘Yes. Help yourself, you know where the phone is.’
Melissa picked it up in the kitchen, where we were both standing, and dialled a six-digit local number from memory.
‘Is TJ there?’
There was a pause and she put her hand over the receiver and whispered, ‘He’s in the back of the shop.’
I nodded and then Melissa spoke down the phone again. ‘TJ, listen, you know I’m in a new foster home? My foster mum wants to meet you, and if you come and pick me up we’ll get a bit longer together, won’t we? She’s really lovely. Her name’s Angela.’
There was a bit of a pause but he obviously agreed to this and she went on to give TJ our address.
‘See ya later!’ Melissa said excitedly, ending the call. She looked thrilled to bits. ‘He’s going to pick me up,’ she said.
‘Pick you up? You mean he can drive? How old is he?’
‘Oh, he’s seventeen. He’s just passed his test. How cool is that?’
‘Seventeen?’ I said. ‘But you are only twelve.’
‘Yeah, but I’m nearly thirteen and he’s only just turned seventeen, so it’s not that much of a difference, is it? He passed his test first time. Some of my friends go out with even older boys. We can’t help it if they like us, can we?’
Melissa looked proud of herself for being popular with the older boys. ‘The lads our age are all nerds. I wouldn’t be seen dead hanging around with most of them.’
Obviously, this information would go in my notes. I had never dealt with a scenario like this before and I wanted to be sure Social Services knew precisely what was going on. Again, I think Melissa read my mind.
‘You don’t need to worry,’ she said. ‘I don’t do anything. I’m not like that.’
The way she spoke was quite childish and incongruous; the tone she used would have been more fitting had she been accused of stealing sweets from the tuck shop.
‘Anyway, can I go to the toilet now please? I think I’m going to wee myself if I don’t go now.’
‘Yes, Melissa. You don’t need to ask if you can go to the toilet.’
‘Oh yeah, I forgot. Thanks!’
With that she bounded up the stairs two at a time, her shock of red hair flowing behind her.
Melissa ate a good meal that evening and once again Jonathan and I enjoyed her company around the dinner table. She talked about which bands she liked and said she wanted to work with children when she was older.
‘I love babies and little children the best. They’re so cute. I’d love to just cuddle them and play with them all day. It must be the best job in the world.’
She had a lot to learn, I thought, but now wasn’t the best time to talk to her about the realities of a career in childcare. Instead I gently said, ‘It’s good you have an idea what you want to do. Lots of people haven’t got a clue, even when they’re a lot older than you. You’re in a good position, and you’ve got plenty of time to find out more about the jobs available, and to make your mind up about exactly what you want to do.’
Melissa had missed quite a lot of schooling over the past few months. Social Services had arranged a meeting with the head teacher at the mixed comprehensive school she attended and we were hoping they would work out a ‘reintegration strategy’ for her return. Jonathan and I hadn’t been provided with any further details at this stage and we didn’t know exactly how much school Melissa had missed.
‘I want to go to college and do a childcare course,’ she went on. ‘That’s my plan. Mind you, that’s if they ever let me back in school.’
I told Melissa I’d ask Wilf for an update on the school situation and asked her if she had been given any work to do at home. She said she had some projects from her history and geography teachers to be getting on with, and I told her I’d help her to get organised and set aside some study hours in the day. She happily agreed, telling me she enjoyed history the best.
After dinner Melissa helped us to clear up and went t
o her room until 7 p.m., the time TJ was collecting her. When the doorbell rang she raced down the stairs at breakneck speed. Jonathan and I arrived in the hallway just as she threw the door open.
‘All right!’ TJ said, giving her a wink. He was dressed in jeans, a black bomber jacket and a back-to-front baseball cap. In one ear he had a diamond stud earring and he was wearing several large, gold sovereign rings. His complexion was spotty and he had the faintest moustache of baby-fine hair. My overall impression was that TJ looked young for his age – more like fifteen than a boy who had just turned seventeen.
‘Step in a minute, it’s cold,’ Melissa told him. She was beaming and clearly excited to see him. ‘This is Angela, and this is Jonathan. They are my foster carers.’
‘Very nice to meet ya both,’ he said, shaking our hands.
‘And you.’
Jonathan, being interested in anything to do with cars, congratulated TJ on passing his test and asked what he was driving. TJ explained he was using a van that belonged to his boss at the takeaway he worked at and dismissed it as ‘just an old Ford’.
‘Oh well,’ Jonathan said. ‘You’ve got to start somewhere. The only thing I got to drive at your age was a tractor on my parents’ farm.’
‘That sounds wicked.’
‘Not really, I used to crash into things all the time as my eyesight was terrible. I hope you’re a better driver than I used to be.’
‘You don’t need to worry on that score. I’ll take good care of Melissa. I’m no boy racer or anything.’
TJ took Melissa’s hand in his and she grinned from ear to ear. She was still in her new tracksuit and had brushed her hair, tied it in a high ponytail and put on a pair of hooped earrings. I imagined she felt very grown up, although she still looked incredibly young to me.
‘Right, we’ll be off then,’ she said. ‘See you at nine thirty.’
‘Nice try,’ Jonathan smiled. ‘Nine. On the dot. See you later.’