by Janey Fraser
More notes. ‘Let’s see, Sunshine. What are we drawing now? Is that a road?’
There was a nod; her little tongue poking out with concentration.
‘And who’s that next to you?’
‘My friend Jack.’ Sunshine beamed. ‘He tried to run across first but I stopped him.’
The girl’s face was rigid. ‘And where was Granny?’
‘Talking to someone.’
‘Actually, I …’
‘Please, Mrs Thomas. And who’s that on the other side of the road?’
‘That’s Van Van’s boyfriend and Bingo.’
There was a sucking in of breath. ‘I see. And what’s Granny’s boyfriend called?’
‘Actually—’
‘Please don’t interrupt, Mrs Thomas. As I was saying, Sunshine, what’s Granny’s boyfriend called?’
‘Brian, of course.’
‘Right. Brian.’ She said it in the same way that she might have said ‘child molester’. ‘Would that be Brian Hughes?’
Vanessa stared at her. ‘How do you know?’
The girl looked smug. ‘We have to make it our business to know these things.’
‘How? Have you been watching us? Has someone said something to you?’
The girl’s lips tightened. ‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.’
‘But he’s a retired headmaster!’
‘Mrs Thomas! I am sure you must be aware that a respected occupation isn’t an automatic defence. Now, you mentioned Bingo just then, Sunshine. Who is he?’
Sunshine gave her a patronising stare. ‘He’s just a puppy!’
‘Ah! So he’s not a little boy, holding hands with Granny’s boyfriend?’
‘That’s Bingo’s lead in Brian’s hand, silly!’
‘Sunshine, that’s rude!’
‘Well, she is silly! You said she was yourself!’
Vanessa stared at the floor, unable to meet the woman’s eyes. ‘And does Granny’s boyfriend live with you?’
Her head jerked up. ‘No he doesn’t, although I don’t see the relevance.’
‘Mrs Thomas, I’m not asking you. Sunshine, can you tell me if Granny’s boyfriend lives with you?’
There was a toothy, shy grin. ‘He stays the night sometimes.’
‘That’s not true!’ Vanessa jumped to her feet. ‘He always leaves after you’ve gone to bed.’
‘But I’ve seen him!’ Sunshine was laughing. ‘I’ve seen him in your room, Van Van, when you thought I was asleep.’
Could it get any worse?
‘Van Van?’ questioned the girl.
‘It’s what she calls me.’
‘So she doesn’t call you “Nanny” or “Gran”?’
‘Or any of the other so-called politically correct terms that you’ve doubtless got in that book of yours,’ cut in Vanessa. ‘No. She doesn’t. But I can assure you that what she does have is a loving, warm, safe home.’
‘Brian likes Van Van!’ piped up Sunshine suddenly. ‘And I think the man at the swimming pool fancies her too!’
‘That’s not quite true.’
‘I think we’ve had enough for today.’ The girl put down her pen. Very neatly in line with her notepad. ‘Would you like to wait outside in the corridor, Sunshine, with June from reception? That’s right. Off you go. May I have that picture please? We need that for our records. Thank you!’
Then she turned to Vanessa. ‘I have to say that I’m not happy about Sunshine witnessing inappropriate behaviour in the home.’
‘If you mean Brian, we’ve been very careful!’ Vanessa felt herself going hot like a teenager justifying herself. ‘Lots of single carers have relationships. It doesn’t mean that Brian is going to …’ She couldn’t even bring herself to say the word ‘abuse’. But that’s what the girl was thinking, she knew it. After all, wasn’t that what had happened in that awful case last week?
‘However, I gather that a complaint has been launched against him for violence.’
What? ‘Who by?’ asked Vanessa, stunned.
‘I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to say.’
Instinctively, Vanessa glanced at the girl’s open notes. There was a name. Written clearly on the form in front of her. Even though it was upside down, she could still read it.
Jason Wood. Aged 24. No fixed address. Handyman.
Brigid’s weaselly faced ex-boyfriend! Vanessa felt her legs weaken as she remembered that argument outside her place. Brian had pushed Jason away when he’d been harassing her over Sunshine. Not hard, but just enough to make a point.
The social worker was gathering up her papers. There was a book poking out of her denim bag, she could see. Dr Know’s No-Nonsense Guide to Parenting. It didn’t surprise her. ‘If I were you, Mrs Thomas, I would make sure that you don’t put yourself in any more compromising situations.’
Compromising situations! ‘But wait. I haven’t had a chance to tell you about everything else!’ Vanessa whipped out the file that she’d brought with her. ‘This is Sunshine’s homework diary. It’s full of stars and wonderful comments about her reading skills. She’s streets ahead of the others.’
‘You’ll have a chance to put your side forward at the conference.’
Vanessa’s blood chilled. ‘What conference?’
‘Mrs Thomas! Your granddaughter nearly got run over through negligence. You are fraternising with a man who has been accused of attacking someone. And there is still no sign of her real mother.’ She glanced at her notes. ‘I believe we are also waiting for the results of a DNA test.’
It didn’t look good: even she had to admit that. ‘In addition to that, your doctor’s report states that your own health isn’t particularly good. We have to think long-term here, I’m afraid.’ For one fleeting moment, the girl sounded sympathetic. Then her lips pursed. ‘I need to see you both again.’ She glanced at her diary. ‘I don’t normally work weekends but I’m a bit pushed at the moment. Is this Saturday suitable?’
‘Actually we’re going on a parenting retreat then. It’s part of a programme we’ve been doing at school: learning how to be better parents.’ Vanessa gave a nervous laugh, desperate to curry favour. ‘Or in my case, a better grandmother.’
The girl gave a grudging nod of approval. ‘I heard about that from Mr Balls. We’ll see you in a week’s time then.’ She made a note. ‘I have to say that if it wasn’t for the glowing report we’ve received from Corrywood Primary about your capabilities, Mrs Thomas, we might have taken Sunshine into care immediately.’
‘But you can’t!’ This was her worst nightmare come true!
‘Mrs Thomas, I’m sure you appreciate that a child’s wellbeing has to come first. We have to follow up complaints.’
So it wasn’t Mr Balls who had set them on to her, then. Not that she would have expected that. He was always so friendly and supportive. She wouldn’t have thought it was Judith Davies either. Maybe it was someone from the class: someone who’d been there when she’d finally felt comfortable enough to discuss the difficulties of being a gran and a mum at the same time. Someone who had flouted the rules about confidentiality that Judith Davies had set at the start.
Not that that was important, right now. Her priority, Vanessa told herself, as she took Sunshine’s warm little hand and assured her that yes, they would go swimming now, was to make sure that no one took her granddaughter away from her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered into Brian’s shoulder, ‘but I can’t see you any more. Not for a while, anyway.’
His stricken face stared down at her. ‘But these people can’t go round saying things that aren’t true! It’s disgraceful. I could have them for slander.’
‘They haven’t actually said anything.’
‘Implied it then.’
She moved away from him. Sunshine was in the room next door, chasing penguins on screen with Bingo curled up next to her. It wouldn’t do if she came in and found them cuddling up. She couldn’t chance any more observations that might get
passed on to the social worker. ‘I can’t risk it, Brian.’
It was so difficult! Every bone in her body wanted to snuggle up against him again, feel his big bear arms around her. ‘I understand really.’ The pain in his voice was almost unbearable. ‘It’s me or the little one, isn’t it?’
Silently, she nodded, feeling a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
‘Then there’s no contest.’ He scratched the back of his neck in the way she’d come to recognise as a sign that he was deep in thought. ‘Nor should there be. If I’d been lucky enough to have kids, I wouldn’t have let anyone come between me and them, either.’
Vanessa couldn’t help it now. She had to feel his skin; had to have his arms around her one last time. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Brian’s eyes were wet. ‘Give me a ring, lass, after this conference. Let me know what happens. And I want to know about your result too. That goes without saying.’
‘You will. I’ll keep in touch.’ The words sounded so inadequate. Keep in touch? Was that all there was to mark the end of a passion which she had never, ever experienced before?
‘I need to say goodbye to the little one,’ he said quietly.
Vanessa nodded. ‘Sunshine,’ she called out. ‘Brian’s off now and so is Bingo.’
‘Have they got to go?’ Her granddaughter had developed a really demanding Daisy whine, she’d noticed.
‘Just for a bit, poppet,’ said Brian slowly.
Sunshine hung on to to Bingo. ‘But you’ll be back tomorrow, won’t you?’
Vanessa made an involuntary noise in her throat.
‘Not tomorrow or the day after that, I’m afraid.’ Brian spoke steadily. ‘Granny – I mean Van Van – will let you know when I’m allowed to come back.’
When, thought Vanessa sadly. Not if but when. It was all very well Brian being optimistic but what if she was only allowed to keep Sunshine if she didn’t have a ‘gentleman friend’? The thought of his arms not being around her any more was impossible. But so, too, was life without her granddaughter.
Sunshine buried her face in Bingo’s fur. ‘I’m going to miss you, little doggie. I’m really going to miss you!’
*
Maybe the long weekend was a good idea after all. It would help to distract both of them.
‘It sounds as though this social worker gave you a hard time,’ sniffed Bobbie when they rang to make arrangements about travelling down to Devon. They agreed to travel in Vanessa’s car because Bobbie’s ancient Volvo had started making weird noises and she didn’t want to chance a long journey.
Vanessa shivered. ‘She did. Have you got a cold?’
‘Sort of.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Actually I’m feeling a bit upset. Rob and I have had a row.’
‘Not over the scan?’
Vanessa still couldn’t believe her friend was expecting twins. Was that why they’d had an argument? Or was it over the sexes? Bobbie had said they didn’t know what they were but perhaps she was keeping it quiet. Maybe Rob was hoping for another son. Men could be funny like that. Harry hadn’t bothered to hide his disappointment when Brigid had been born.
‘Not exactly. It’s a long story. The thing is that he isn’t coming down to the weekend after all.’
Poor Bobbie! What a shame. Vanessa had been looking forward to meeting this man: putting a face to a name. Not that she’d liked the sound of him from everything she’d heard over the previous months. ‘So I’ll come over and we’ll transfer to your car. Is that all right?’
By then, both she and Sunshine were more than ready to go. They had both been uncharacteristically tetchy with each other. ‘Why can’t Brian and Bingo come round?’ her granddaughter kept whining.
Because of you, Vanessa wanted to say. But somehow she managed to bite her tongue, concentrating instead on briefing Kim and getting their cases packed. We’re five minutes from the sea, the email from Andy had said. So do pack beach clothes in case the weather is good, besides walking shoes. We plan to have plenty of outdoor activities as well as talking sessions.
HONK! HONK! ‘They’re here!’ Sunshine ran to the door before Vanessa could get there.
‘You know you’re not allowed to do that,’ Vanessa began. Too late! Her granddaughter was already flying down the path, leaving Vanessa to carry the cases. It was amazing how much you needed to take a six-year-old away, even for two days!
‘Just caught you, have I?’ said the postman, coming up the path at the same time.
‘Thanks.’ Vanessa took the two envelopes he handed her – and froze. One had a hospital stamp on it. Her biopsy result! It had to be.
And the second had a London postmark. With the DNA clinic’s name franked on the front.
There was a little girl called Lucy,
Who loved to eat all things juicy.
Her favourite was worms –
Oh, how her mum squirmed!
It made her feel all faint and woozy.
(Author’s note: the real story behind this one is that Lucy preferred yew berries and had to be pumped out at A & E.)
Chapter 36
ANDY
‘WHY HAVE WE got to come to Devon with you?’ whined Nattie. She was sitting in front of her dressing table, hair done up in a white towel turban while applying eyeliner in what looked like an extremely skilled manner. If only you could buy such confidence in bottles. If only more parents dished it out. If only he’d had it himself as a kid.
‘I’ve told you.’ Andy looked away. It was odd how you suddenly reached a point as a father when it didn’t seem right to see your own daughter scantily dressed in her underwear any more. Yet it didn’t seem very long ago that they’d all had Sunday-morning family cuddles together in bed.
Who was responsible for puncturing such innocence? Those awful abuse cases you read about in the paper? Social workers who could never do right? Evil people like that bastard of a photographer who had raped Pamela all those years ago? How had the world got to this state? And was it really possible to get back to good old-fashioned family values?
‘I’ve told you,’ he repeated. ‘We’re having a Perfect Parents’ weekend and children are invited too.’
There was a snort of laughter from Mel at the door. ‘Perfect Parents? That’s a joke. ’Sides, we’re not kids any more.’
Andy did a double-take. She’d dyed her hair black since breakfast! That beautiful blonde hair that other girls would surely give their eyeteeth for. He started to say something but then bit his tongue. Don’t sweat the small stuff.
‘I know. I know.’ He tried to laugh. ‘But we need you girls to help out with the little ones and take part in discussions. Some of the other teenagers are coming too.’
Nattie paused, mid-mascara flick. ‘Who?’
Mel sniggered. ‘You’re hoping that Nick’s going, aren’t you? His mum’s been coming to your sessions, Dad. She runs an au pair agency. I might ask her about a job abroad. Anything to travel and get out of this hole.’
‘You haven’t embarrassed us, Dad, have you?’ asked Nattie sharply. ‘If you’ve told Nick’s mother anything confidential, I’ll never talk to you again.’
Andy cringed, recalling some of the you-won’t-believe-what-my-two-have-done-now confessions he had made along with the others. Was this really a good idea? A weekend away with all the parents and their partners and their kids, not to mention Judith Davies? ‘I’m really looking forward to it,’ she had trilled yesterday when they’d been going over the arrangements. ‘The handbook says it’s a wonderful way to sum up everything we’ve learned and to help us bond even more.’
The thought of bonding with Audrey the redhead was so improbable, given those icy looks at the school fête, that Andy almost laughed. Still, it was too late to get out of it now. They were meant to be setting off after his meeting with George. Andy wasn’t sure whether to feel sick or relieved about that. As for Kieran, he still hadn’t sent that email. He’d work out what to do about the man when he got back.
He turned back to the girls. ‘I can’t force you both to come,’ he began to say, recalling that stuff in class about choices and empathy and non-confrontation with a dash of healthy bribery, ‘but if you do, it would really help. And you can go to bed as late as you like. Just for the weekend, that is.’
‘OK,’ said Nattie coolly. ‘If you think Nick really will be there.’
Mel sniffed. ‘Go on then. Suppose I’ll help out.’
Bloody hell. It worked! ‘By the way.’ Andy paused at the doorway. ‘I went to see Mum the other day.’ He stopped, working out how to say this carefully. ‘The girls mustn’t know I’m in this place,’ Pamela had insisted. Yet at the same time, he didn’t want to tell lies. ‘She’s staying with some friends now, not far from Granny.’
‘Dad—’ began Nattie.
‘We know,’ Mel interrupted.
A shot of fear went through him. ‘You know?’
‘Sure.’ Mel bent over her sister to check her own reflection in the mirror. ‘Granny told us.’
Interfering old bat!
‘Mum needs some time to herself, apparently.’ There was a shrug. A hurt shrug, he could tell. ‘We’re too much for her.’
‘It’s not that!’
‘We’re not stupid, Dad.’ Nattie gave him a wounded look. ‘It’s great that you’ve taken time off work to look after us instead.’
Andy began to feel even more uncomfortable. ‘Actually, that’s the thing. It’s not really like that.’ But just as he was about to go on, his phone began to hum in his pocket. It was a text from George. I tht we were meeting. Where R U?
George again! If his middle-aged financial adviser was talking teen-text style, things must be wrong.
‘Look, I’m sorry but I’ve got to go somewhere. I won’t be long. It would be really great if you two could clear up the kitchen while I’m gone.’
‘OK.’
Great! Positive expectation, as the handbook called it. It worked! Well, sometimes.
‘And you do promise that you’ll both be ready for Devon then, won’t you? It could be your last chance.’