by Angela Hart
We told ourselves time and time again that, with a great deal of determination and persistence, it is possible to help children turn their lives around – some children, at least – and we didn’t give up, despite the way Babs carried on.
There were times when Maria seemed to be learning to make good decisions herself that would enable her to have the life she deserved, and that we knew she had the potential to achieve. And there were times when she didn’t seem to have the mental or physical energy to choose – let alone follow – any specific path at all.
Despite putting her second daughter into care, Christine seemed to settle into her new life on the other side of the country with her new partner. However, besides her occasional visits to stay with Babs and visit Maria, and some irregular phone calls, she and Maria had little contact.
Social Services ultimately decided that Maria should stay living with us until she was at least sixteen, when her case would be looked at again. By the time we heard this news Maria seemed to be resigned to that outcome, and was not upset or even disappointed.
‘Oh well, we knew that, didn’t we?’ Maria shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s for the best.’
Touchingly, she had knitted a hat for her little sister, with my mum’s help, and she told me, ‘I’ve already wrapped it up ready to post. I’ll do that tomorrow.’
40
‘Maria’s got something she needs to tell you’
Maria did well in her GCSEs – good enough to do A levels and hopefully go on to university. She told her mum the news over the phone but Christine only managed a muttered, ‘Well done,’ and that was even after Maria told her, ‘I could actually be the first person in the family to go to university!’
Not long after Maria got her results, Jonathan and I were sitting in the garden on a Sunday afternoon, trying to summon up the energy to tackle the jobs that needed to be done out there, when she came and sat on the wall beside us.
‘They say that the sun shines on the righteous and it appears to be true,’ Maria said. Then she gave a melodramatic sigh of satisfaction and tilted her head up towards the sky for a moment before adding, ‘Although I suppose, to be fair, it would be shining on you too, if you weren’t sitting under that umbrella.’
‘You are quite right to be proud of your achievements!’ I told her, smiling.
‘Thank you,’ she beamed. ‘I’m proud of myself.’
After we chatted about something and nothing for a few minutes, Maria suddenly said, ‘I’ve been thinking about stuff, and what I really want to do is stay on at school and do A levels. But the thing is . . .’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’d really like to stay on at this school, and stay with you. But maybe you wouldn’t want me for two more years? Maybe Social Services will make me move?’
‘Of course we’d want you!’ Jonathan and I chorused. It was something we’d already discussed, and we had no hesitation in saying this.
Jonathan nodded as I told Maria, ‘We’d absolutely love you to stay, and we will say as much to Social Services. I think it would be lovely if you could do your A levels here, with all your friends. I’m sure Social Services will be OK with it. I’ll phone them tomorrow. But let’s not get our hopes up until they’ve officially agreed—’
‘I know, I know,’ Maria interjected. ‘Don’t put all your chickens in one basket. No, that’s not it. Oh yes! Don’t count your eggs before they’ve hatched. No, that’s not it either.’ I knew that she was joking to cover her embarrassment, which, on this occasion, was clearly due to the fact that she was pleased.
Social Services did agree to Maria staying on at the same school and continuing to live with us, and her grandparents were delighted when they heard the news. I think Babs had been dreading the thought of Maria moving so far away to live with her mother and the mother’s partner, who Christine had actually married by now. Babs was very fond of Maria and she would have missed her terribly. But I think she was worried, too, about how Maria and her mother would get on if they were actually living together. She also had concerns about the marriage.
‘Anyway, Angela,’ Babs gossiped over a cup of tea one day, ‘you never know with Christine, her marriage could be over just as soon as it’s begun!’
I thought it was a bit unkind of Babs to talk about her daughter’s life like that, but in actual fact Babs’s prediction turned out to be true. Christine’s marriage was brief, and not long after she and her new husband had split up, she announced that she was going to live abroad.
By this time, Maria was the one who made the majority of calls to her mum, as Christine very rarely made the effort. One evening, when Jonathan and I were watching the news on TV, Maria came storming into the living room, slumped down on the sofa beside me and said, ‘Right, that’s it. I’m not phoning her any more. I don’t deserve to be treated like this. What have I ever done to her? Well, I’ve had enough now. That’s the last phone call I’m ever going to make to her. Nan has been more like a mum to me than she’s been anyway. What’s that thing you used to say, Angela? Oh yes: “If you can’t say anything nice, it’s best not to say anything at all.” Well, my mum should definitely stop talking, to me at least.’
‘Gosh, what is it she said that’s upset you?’ I asked, choosing my words carefully so that I didn’t give the impression I agreed with what she’d said about her mother’s negative influence – even though I did.
‘It’s everything,’ she answered. ‘She just doesn’t ever say anything nice or encouraging, like you and Jonathan do. So, that’s it. Enough. I don’t want to talk to her any more. It’s like I’ve said before. She’s not altogether with it. There’s something missing. She’s a ghost, I tell you. And he was a freak too, that weirdo Gerry!’
‘You might feel differently about it in the morning,’ Jonathan said. ‘Don’t be too hasty, Maria.’
She didn’t tell us what her mum had said that so upset her, but from that day Maria vowed never to speak to her mother again.
Sadly, things didn’t run as smoothly for Maria during the next couple of years as we’d hoped. In fact, when she returned to school after the long summer holiday to start her AS courses, she hardly did any work at all. We knew she wasn’t doing much coursework at home, but if we ever questioned her about it she stormed off to her grandparents’ house. Eventually, the inevitable happened and we were called in for a meeting at the school, where Maria’s teacher told us that they weren’t prepared to keep her on.
‘There is absolutely no point in her being here,’ her teacher said. ‘She could do really well and go to almost any university she chooses. But she isn’t even trying. She hasn’t done her coursework, she isn’t handing in essays, and it’s obvious every day in the classroom that she hasn’t done any of the reading she’s supposed to have done.’
‘We knew she wasn’t doing enough work,’ Jonathan said. ‘But we hadn’t realised it was quite as bad as that. Can you just give us a chance to talk to her, though, before you make a decision?’
It took some persuading, but eventually the teacher agreed, and when Maria came home that night, we all sat down at the kitchen table and had a long talk.
‘You’ve proved to everyone, including yourself, how well you can do in exams if you put your mind to it,’ I told her. ‘The whole reason for staying on at school was so that you can go to university. Don’t throw it all away now, for heaven’s sake.’
‘You’re right,’ she said at last, after an initial sulk. ‘It’s only a couple of years – less than that.’
So, once again, she got back on track, at least enough for the school to agree to let her stay on, and she ended up just scraping through her AS exams. I think the fact that she didn’t do better knocked her confidence a bit, although considering how little revision she did, she was lucky to pass at all.
Then, unfortunately, not long after she started her A level courses, she got a boyfriend – her fears about being gay having long since been forgotten, once her crush on her female classmate was over.
I say ‘unfortunately’ about the boyfriend because he didn’t do anything to encourage Maria to do the work she needed to do. Quite the reverse, in fact. He was in the same year as her at school, but doing different subjects, and although he wasn’t a bad lad, he used to encourage her to skive off. This went on for months on end. Apparently, they’d register at school in the morning, then leave again and go to Maria’s grandparents’ house to pick up the stash of alcohol they kept there, which they’d drink somewhere out of sight.
We didn’t know anything about what was happening and thought she was safely at school, but it was the same old story. We’d had several discussions with her grandmother about how important it was for us all to encourage Maria to do the work she had to do to be able to pass her exams and achieve her ambition of going to university. Every time we’d talked about it, Babs had nodded and agreed with us, while all the time knowing what was really going on.
Then, one Friday afternoon, when Maria arrived home from school, she marched through the shop, scowling at me without replying when I said hello and slamming the door into the house behind her. She was in her final term of A levels by now, so I knew she was under a lot of pressure, but I sensed this was more than just day-to-day schoolwork stress.
There was only one customer in the shop when Maria stomped through it, and her tone was empathetic as she said, ‘Teenagers, who’d have them? I’m so glad mine have all grown up and left home. I sometimes used to wonder if they were a different species. But thank goodness it’s just a phase and they eventually grow out of it, although I do remember it felt at the time as though it would never end.’
‘Something must have upset her in school today,’ I said to Jonathan after the customer had gone. ‘Shall I go and see what’s wrong?’
‘Let’s leave her till we close,’ he replied. ‘It will give her time to calm down, and there’s nothing we can do anyway.’
I was just agreeing with him when the door from the street opened again and a good friend of Maria’s called Sammy came into the shop.
‘Is Maria OK?’ she asked, looking genuinely concerned. ‘I walked back from school with her and tried to talk to her all the way. But she’s in a mood about something, and wouldn’t answer me at all. I think it may have something to do with her boyfriend. But, then again, I might be wrong. Is she in the house? Can I go and see her?’
‘Of course you can,’ I told her. ‘Just go on through. She’s probably gone to her room. It might be a good idea if you knock on the bedroom door before you go in, just to avoid any chance of upsetting her even more.’
It was about fifteen minutes later when Sammy reappeared in the shop and said, ‘Maria’s got something she needs to tell you. It’s not good news, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy because she wants to tell you herself. I’ll call in tomorrow morning though, if that’s OK, to see if she’s calmed down.’
‘Yes, that’s fine, Sammy,’ Jonathan said. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow.’
Then, when Sammy had gone, he looked at me and said the two words I had been thinking myself: ‘Now what?’
All kinds of possibilities collided in my head. Has she been in trouble with the police? Is she pregnant?
After collecting all the plants and displays from outside, we closed the shop at the usual time. It takes a while to carry all the plants and flowers out and arrange them every morning, then bring them in again in the evening, but it’s worth it because they make a great display outside our parade of shops. Bringing them in seemed to take forever on that day though, because I was so anxious to know what Maria’s ‘not good news’ could be.
Friday night is always takeaway night in our house, when we have either a Chinese or an Indian meal, or, occasionally, chips. It’s a tradition everyone enjoys, although Maria would really have preferred to go to the McDonald’s drive thru and order a large meal with extra-large Coca-Cola, which remained her drink of choice whenever we ate out or had a takeaway. Sadly she was still overweight, and she had still never made any effort to get herself in better shape.
When I went into the house, Maria was sitting in the kitchen with an angry expression on her face.
‘Is everything OK? Sammy said you have something to tell us.’
‘Um . . . well . . . I don’t know how to say this.’ Maria swallowed hard. ‘Me and a couple of friends got called in to see the head teacher this afternoon. He said he’d had reports about us drinking down by the river and that I was drunk in school – which I wasn’t. I was caught smoking again at lunchtime, though.’
I knew she smoked – we’d had words about it many times – but I thought she’d given up, as that is what she had told me. Worst of all, Maria made it sound as though being wrongly accused of being drunk in school was the only bit of what she was telling me that really mattered. ‘Anyway, the head teacher said we’re not “good ambassadors for the school”.’ She mimicked his voice as she said it, then paused and took a deep breath before adding, ‘So he’s decided to expel us.’
‘What?’ I was disappointed with Maria for acting so foolishly, but I was shocked by what she was telling me. ‘What about your exams? You’ve only got two months before you’re due to take them. Surely he can let you stay on till then. Did you offer to apologise?’
‘Yes, of course I did,’ she shouted. ‘I even said I’d give a talk to the younger students to encourage them not to be as stupid as me. See, I knew eventually the truth would come out. Now try telling me I’m not thick and stupid.’
‘Maria, you know what I think about you calling yourself stupid,’ I told her. ‘You are not stupid. How many times do you need to be told that? You just make daft choices sometimes. But that’s something we all do. Nobody’s perfect and we all have to learn by our mistakes. Anyway, I thought you’d given up smoking. And when did you start drinking?’
‘I didn’t want to be the only one not drinking.’ She looked embarrassed as she said it. ‘But I wasn’t drunk, even though they said I was. I didn’t like the taste anyway. I can’t see why people drink. It’s just a waste of money. And I have given up smoking. Well, sort of. I only had a few left in the packet and when I was feeling stressed today, I decided I’d finish the packet and give up starting from tomorrow.’
It was the same story she’d told me on many occasions, with minor variations, about the cigarettes, and every time I hoped that, this time, it would be true. Her grandmother used to get on to her about it too, often telling her to ‘stop using the coffin nails’ – why she never said the same to Stanley, who still smoked like a chimney, I never understood.
‘Well, I guess there’s nothing we can do about it now,’ I said. ‘I’ll call the school on Monday morning and make an appointment with the head teacher, to see if I can talk him around, again!’
I walked over to the phone as I spoke and absent-mindedly picked up the menus for the local takeaways that we keep beside it. Jonathan and I had been looking forward to a treat, but it didn’t seem appropriate to get a takeaway now. I put them down with a sigh. In fact, I felt a bit nauseous and didn’t feel like eating anything at all.
41
‘Anything is possible . . .’
We had a peaceful weekend, considering the circumstances. Maria spent Saturday evening at her grandparents’ house, after pleading with me, ‘Will you tell Nan, please? She’ll be really disappointed with me and it’ll sound better coming from you.’
I wasn’t sure Maria was right about how disappointed her grandmother was going to be, and when I agreed to tell her what had happened, she responded, ‘That’s a shame. But never mind, Maria. You can always get a job like I did when I left school, and I didn’t even have any qualifications. So don’t you worry about it. Ooh, in fact, someone told me just the other day that they’re looking for staff at the new burger bar in town. We could go there this afternoon if you like and find out what you have to do.’
‘Err . . . no thanks.’ Maria looked puzzled for a moment before adding, more emphatically, ‘I’m not working there f
or my full-time job! I’m still going to do my exams – I hope. We are going into school on Monday, aren’t we, Angela?’
‘Yes, hopefully,’ I said, ‘but there’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to talk the head teacher around this time.’
On the Monday morning, before I had time to phone the school, we received a call asking us to go in for a meeting, without Maria.
‘Maria has been caught several times smoking on school premises,’ the head teacher said when Jonathan and I went into his office. ‘She isn’t doing her work. She’s very insolent when anyone tries to discuss these issues with her and, to top it off, it’s now been reported to me that she came in drunk after drinking down by the river. I’m sure you can see that that sort of behaviour is unacceptable. I have to think of the other students, to whom she is setting a very poor example. I’m afraid we’ve come to the point when enough is finally enough.’
‘But she’s done almost all her coursework,’ I said. ‘Couldn’t she stay on just these last few weeks until study leave or until she takes the exams? We’ll talk to her and . . .’
‘I’m sorry.’ The head teacher shrugged as if to indicate that the decision had already been made and the matter was now out of his hands.
We have fostered a lot of children who’ve gone to that school and we’ve always had good relationships with all the teachers and other staff there. We knew they’d made allowances for Maria on several occasions and that they’d been more tolerant with her than most other schools would have been. But she’d finally pushed them too far and, this time, no amount of pleading would make the head teacher change his mind.