by Angela Hart
‘You’re kind, aren’t you?’ Marty commented, which made Melissa laugh in an embarrassed sort of way.
‘I’m telling the truth,’ she told him. ‘You’re really good. You should play for a proper team.’
‘I’m going to try to join a local team, when I’m in my next house.’
I had mixed feelings listening to their conversation. On the one hand it was great to hear the kids engaging with each other and being kind and encouraging, but I also felt a pang of pain for Marty. Hearing him use the phrase ‘my next house’ upset me. He had told me he didn’t really know the family he was moving in with very well, even though they were related, and I thought it was a shame he called it a house and not a home. I really hoped it would work out for him.
Melissa used the phone box in the leisure centre before we went for our pizzas, and she told us she’d arranged to meet Rosie at the top of our road at quarter to seven so they could walk to the disco together. ‘Is that OK?’ she asked. ‘Are you cool with that?’
‘Yes, sweetheart. That’s fine. I remember going to that junior disco myself many years ago. I used to love it.’
‘No way! Was it the same one?’
‘Sort of. It was in the same church hall, but in our day they called it a dance not a disco.’
She laughed at this, and I told her I’d met Jonathan at a dance when we were both seventeen.
‘I can’t believe that. Didn’t you want to have lots of different boyfriends?’
‘No. When I met Jonathan I knew he was the one.’
She thought this was hilarious. ‘I’d never be able to pick one. I’d get bored with just one boyfriend!’
We went to a new pizza restaurant that had recently opened up at a retail park on the outskirts of town. It had been heavily advertised and the car park was full when we arrived.
‘I think everyone’s got the same vouchers we got through our door,’ Jonathan smiled.
‘Looks like it. Let’s hope we can get a table.’
We hadn’t been able to book and it was early evening. All five of us walked in and joined a queue of people behind a roped-off barrier that said ‘Please wait to be seated’. It took ten minutes for us to reach the front, and the waitress explained that we’d have to wait approximately half an hour.
‘Are you happy to wait?’ she asked politely. ‘As there’s five of you I’ll try to put you in a booth by the window, over there.’
The wait wasn’t ideal, but the three kids all nodded enthusiastically.
‘Are you sure?’ Jonathan teased. ‘I could go home and make you all some beans on toast, and you wouldn’t have to wait at all?’
They all sighed and rolled their eyes at Jonathan’s ‘lame’ attempt at humour, as Marty put it. After checking their ages the waitress said all three were allowed to play in the large indoor adventure playground at the back of the restaurant, and she said Jonathan and I were welcome to go through to the restaurant and have a drink while we waited for our table. We agreed to this and, after taking our booking, the waitress said she’d come over to the bar to find us when our booth was ready.
Jonathan went to buy some drinks while I took the three children to the play area. Melissa said it looked ‘awesome’ and challenged the boys to a race down the slides. It was great to see them all getting on and enjoying themselves, and I was pleased Melissa was joining in so enthusiastically. Given her precocious tendencies it wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d considered the play area too childish, but that wasn’t the case at all.
I told the children where to leave their shoes before they disappeared inside a mass of rope ladders, inflatables, plastic slides, swings and ball pits. For an indoor play area attached to a restaurant it was very big. I realised you couldn’t see the entrance and exit from the bar so I went over to tell Jonathan I would stay by the equipment, where I could keep an eye on the kids.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you a lime and soda and I’ll tell the waitress to come and find us over there. What shall I get for the kids?’
‘I’d leave it for now. They can order what they want when we sit down. I don’t think they’ll be bothered about drinks for the time being.’
As I made my way back towards the play area I noticed a small boy running towards his mother in tears.
Poor love, I thought, as he looked really upset and was gulping for air.
‘What’s the matter Freddie?’
‘I hate him!’
‘You hate who? Come on, love. Come and have a drink of lemonade.’
I thought to myself, What a shame. I’m glad it’s not Ryan or Marty in tears – or Melissa, for that matter. Then I immediately wondered who the ‘him’ was, and hoped that neither Marty nor Ryan had upset this little boy.
When our table was ready I called to Ryan, who I’d just watched coming down one of the slides, and asked him to tell the others we could go and sit down.
‘OK!’ he said. ‘Can we come back in here after?’
‘Yes. But come and eat now.’
He gave me a thumbs-up and dashed off to find Melissa and Marty.
He reappeared with Marty moments later but shrugged and said he couldn’t find Melissa.
‘Oh,’ I said, trying to look as unconcerned as Ryan. ‘I’m sure she’s in there, can you go round once more? She could be behind those red and yellow blocks at the back?’
The boys dashed off together while I stood there wondering if I’d been played like a fiddle. Has Melissa managed to run away from the restaurant without me noticing? I thought. Surely not.
My mind went back to the leisure centre. She’d made a phone call. I began to worry that she’d arranged to be picked up by one of her boyfriends and had given us the slip amid the chaos of the extremely busy play area.
‘Where’s our table? I’m STARVING!’
I heard her before I saw her. Melissa appeared from nowhere, pink-cheeked, hurtling towards me, flanked by Ryan and Marty.
‘Do we have to put our shoes back on or can we stay like this?’
Relief flooded through me.
‘I’d pop your shoes back on and go and wash your hands. I’ll come to the bathroom with you, Melissa. I need to wash my hands too.’
The pizzas were well worth waiting for. The children all chose the same thin-crust margherita pizza and then made a joke of asking each other if they wanted to try each other’s.
We were all laughing and choosing desserts when a woman approached our table and asked earnestly if she could have a word with me. I recognised her as the mother of Freddie, the little boy I’d seen sobbing.
‘Yes, is there a problem?’
‘Yes there is,’ she said. She looked very nervous. Her face and neck were flushed red and her hands were trembling.
‘Excuse me,’ I said to the children. I stood up and suggested to the woman that we step away from the booth. Jonathan offered to join us but the woman said she wanted to talk to me, ‘mother to mother’. I didn’t correct her; it seemed unnecessary to point out I was a foster carer. The last thing I wanted was to inflame what I could already sense was a sensitive situation, and Freddie’s mother might be one of those people who had predetermined ideas about kids in care.
We walked to the side of the restaurant, where we were out of earshot of the other diners. I wondered what on earth she was going to say. It was fairly obvious that Ryan or Marty – or possibly Melissa – had been involved in some sort of altercation with Freddie, or at least that he was blaming them for something. However, I was totally unprepared for what she said; in fact, it took my breath away.
‘My little boy said he’s been . . .’ The woman looked embarrassed and as if she had to steel herself to carry on. ‘He says your son “touched” him.’
‘Touched?’ I said, understanding immediately that she meant touched in an inappropriate way. I felt my throat tighten. This was not a good situation, and I immediately thought about Marty, and his past history. How slow of me not to work this out quicker.
Sure enough, it was Marty she was referring to. I stayed very calm and said I was sorry to hear this.
‘You should be,’ she hissed.
I chose my words carefully, not wanting to admit guilt on Marty’s behalf. Despite knowing about the abuse he’d suffered at home and the fact he had touched a younger child inappropriately in the past, I couldn’t jump to any conclusions. I hadn’t seen what had happened, and as far as I knew nor had Freddie’s mother. Also, I’d only heard one side of the story. I waited for the woman to carry on, as I could see she had more to say.
‘I could phone the police and my friend said I should, but I don’t want to put my son through any more of an ordeal than he’s already been through.’
She said Freddie had been ‘inconsolable’ for the best part of an hour – all the time we’d been at our table – and had only just plucked up the courage to tell his mum what had happened in the ball pit.
‘What I want you to do is teach your son right from wrong,’ the woman said, her voice trembling. ‘He needs to know what the boundaries are and what is acceptable and what is totally not acceptable.’
I wanted to know exactly what had taken place but at the same time I didn’t want to ask. The woman didn’t volunteer any more information.
‘I’m very sorry your son has been so upset,’ I said.
‘So am I. And I only hope this doesn’t scar my little boy for life.’
At that point Freddie appeared. He was grinning from ear to ear, had ice cream around his lips, and asked if he was allowed another drink of lemonade.
‘Go and sit down with Tina. I’ll be over in a moment.’
I told the woman I would handle the matter and thanked her for talking to me calmly; it was clear she was hopping mad but was succeeding in controlling her anger. ‘I appreciate you talking to me this way,’ I said. ‘And I assure you I’ll deal with this.’
Once again I was conscious that I didn’t want to accept blame on Marty’s behalf, however likely it appeared he’d behaved improperly, as he had done in the past.
‘OK. We’ll leave it there.’ The woman gave me a cold stare.
When I got back to the table Marty looked guilty and worried.
‘Is everything OK?’ Jonathan asked.
I gave him a little nod so he could see I was OK. ‘Now what are we all having for dessert?’
Melissa narrowed her eyes and Ryan frowned but I didn’t respond to their sceptical looks. ‘Dessert is always the best part of going out for a meal, isn’t it? So, do you all know what you’re having?’
I didn’t look round again and had no idea if Freddie’s mother and her party had left after she spoke to me, or whether she stayed and saw us all eating sticky toffee puddings, ice cream and chocolate brownies. If she had I imagine she’d have wondered how we could sit there like that after I’d heard what she’d had to say.
I was very concerned about what she’d told me and unfortunately I didn’t doubt it was true, but we had three children to take care of and it wouldn’t have helped matters if we’d abandoned the meal and left in a dramatic way. I couldn’t discuss the allegation with Marty in front of the other children and it would have drawn too much attention to him if I took him to one side in the restaurant and made any kind of fuss. It wouldn’t have served any purpose, other than to upset and alarm everyone. Far better, I figured, to finish the meal, keep Marty in my sight and deal with the matter calmly and in the privacy of our home later. That would give me the best chance of encouraging Marty to be as open and honest as possible about what had happened. I hoped he would be.
16
‘We’re going to end up in an early grave’
While Melissa got ready for the junior disco I talked to Marty, explaining what the lady in the restaurant had said to me.
‘I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?’ Marty had a quizzical look on his face and I felt very sorry for him. Despite his therapy sessions and the support he received from various professionals, I wondered if Marty understood the difference between right and wrong when it came to physical touching. He told me that all he’d done was pull the back of the boy’s jogging bottoms down as a joke, not realising this would cause so much trouble. I asked him to think about exactly what had happened next, and told him he could tell me about it, if there was anything else to tell.
‘Sorry, Angela,’ Marty said. ‘I didn’t mean to cause trouble. That’s all I did. I didn’t think his undies would come down too.’
I talked to him about the fact he must never remove another child’s clothing again, even as a joke. ‘I’m saying this for everybody’s sake,’ I said. ‘I don’t want anybody getting upset and I don’t want you to get into any trouble of this kind again. The only way to be sure of this is for you to never touch another child in any way that may be seen as inappropriate. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Marty assured me that he did and said, ‘Yes. Sorry. I won’t. Thanks for the pizza and everything. It was good.’ All that had happened would go in my notes and be reported back to Social Services.
We’d had a phone call while we were all at the restaurant from Rosie’s mother, who was called Claudia. Jonathan played back the message and relayed to me that Claudia was going to pick both girls up from the disco at nine and bring Melissa back home.
‘Cool,’ Melissa said when I gave her the message. ‘She’s really nice, Rosie’s mum.’
I was grateful to Claudia. I wouldn’t have wanted Jonathan to go out and collect Melissa on his own and I didn’t really want to trouble my mum for babysitting again. Jonathan and I were tired, and we were looking forward to putting our feet up and watching TV for a couple of hours. The boys were shattered too, and I knew they wouldn’t be up late after all the football they’d played, and all the chasing around they’d done in the play area.
Melissa went upstairs to get herself ready for the disco and I decided to call Claudia to tell her we’d got the message, and to thank her for picking the girls up. We had the family’s home number already, as Melissa had given it to us the first time she hooked up with Rosie. Jonathan had jotted it down and pinned it on a small corkboard next to the phone in the kitchen.
I dialled the number but there was no reply so I tried again later, by which time Melissa was already on her way out to meet Rosie. Still there was no reply.
‘Maybe Claudia is out tonight and it was convenient to collect the girls on her way back?’ Jonathan suggested.
‘You’re probably right.’
We weren’t concerned; my main reason for calling was to thank Claudia for her kind offer. She’d made a point of saying in her message there was no need to call back, so after one last try we left it at that.
Unfortunately, by ten past nine there was no sign of Melissa and I immediately started to fret. The church hall where the junior disco was held was very close to our house. By car, it was no more than a five-minute drive.
‘I’ll try Rosie’s home number again if they don’t turn up soon, see if I can find out what’s going on.’
Jonathan looked at his watch and pulled a face, one that said, ‘I don’t like the sound of this.’
We didn’t want to cause unnecessary fuss, but as every minute ticked by, the more of a bad feeling we developed. I inevitably started to wonder if the girls had met up with TJ and Des, or some other boys. By twenty past nine I decided I had no choice but to pick up the phone again. Annoyingly, there was still no reply from Rosie’s number. I tried again, and again, before a young girl finally answered.
‘Hello, is that Rosie?’
‘Yes, it’s Rosie here. Who is this?’
‘I’m Angela Hart. Melissa is living with us.’
‘Oh hi! Sorry. I know who you are now.’
‘Is Melissa with you?’
‘No, why? Should she be?’
Alarm bells started to ring very loudly in my head.
‘I thought your mum was collecting you both and bringing Melissa back to our house after the disco?’
‘My mum? No. My boyfriend walked me home.’
‘I see. Sorry, there seems to have been some crossed wires. Is your mum there? Can I speak to her?’
‘No, sorry. She’s out with my dad. They’re at a function until late. My grandma’s sitting for me and my sister but she’s asleep in the chair. Do you want me to wake her?’
Rosie sounded puzzled and concerned, while I felt nauseous, realising someone, somehow must have pulled a stunt and that, once again, Melissa was missing.
‘It’s OK. I don’t want you to wake your grandmother. There’s just been a breakdown of communication, I think.’
‘Right. But you’re worried about Melissa?’
‘Well, we expected her home by now. Hopefully she’ll be back soon. Do you know who she was with when the disco ended?’
‘No. I left a bit before the end. Maybe she’s just walking slowly?’
I mentioned TJ, and asked Rosie if she’d seen him.
‘No, why would I?’
‘Isn’t he friends with your boyfriend?’
‘No. I’ve got a new boyfriend. Des wasn’t really my boyfriend. Anyhow, TJ and Des never go to the junior disco. They’re too old, but they sometimes hang around outside.’
I thanked Rosie and said goodbye, asking her to ring me if she heard anything. My stomach was doing somersaults and I wanted to talk to Jonathan. He looked at me in astonishment when I told him that Claudia was out all evening at a function. We stared at each other for a moment, scratching our heads. What on earth was going on? We hadn’t imagined things. Rosie’s mother had definitely called . . . or at least someone had definitely phoned saying she was Rosie’s mother, but it couldn’t have been her, could it?
There was only one explanation: we’d been duped. For a moment I wondered if Rosie had been talked into pretending to be her mother, to help Melissa stay out later, but I dismissed that idea. Rosie had sounded genuinely confused and concerned about Melissa.