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‘Education and psychology.’
She nodded. We’d now arrived outside her house, number 53, and Laura pushed open the gate. ‘Well, it’s been nice talking to you. Cathy, isn’t it?’
‘Yes – sorry, I should have said.’
‘Thanks again for helping me out in the playground. I hope I haven’t kept you.’
‘Not at all. If ever you want me to collect Kim from school or take her, do let me know. I’m there every day with Adrian.’
‘Thanks, that’s kind of you, but Geraldine, my mother-in-law, always does it if I can’t.’
‘OK. But if she can’t at any time you know where I am. And perhaps you’d like to pop in for a coffee one day when you’re free.’
She looked slightly surprised. ‘Oh, I see. That’s nice, but I expect you’re very busy.’
‘Never too busy for a coffee and a chat,’ I said with a smile. ‘I’ll give you my telephone number.’ I began delving into my bag for a pen and paper.
‘Can you give it to me another time?’ Laura said, appearing rather anxious. She began up her garden path, clearly eager to be away. ‘Sorry, but I’m dying to go to the bathroom!’ she called.
‘Yes, of course. I’ll see you later in the playground. I can give it to you then.’
‘Geraldine will probably be there,’ she returned, with her back to me, and quickly unlocking the door. ‘Push it through my letterbox.’
‘OK. Bye then.’
‘Bye!’ she called, and going in closed the front door.
‘Baby Liam,’ Paula said, pointing to the house.
‘Yes, that’s where he lives,’ I said.
‘Out!’ Paula now demanded, raising her arms to be lifted out of the stroller.
‘Yes, you can walk, but remember you always hold my hand.’
I undid the safety harness, helped her out and took her little hand in mine. ‘We always hold hands by the road,’ I reminded her. I didn’t use walking reins but insisted she held my hand.
‘Baby Liam,’ Paula said again, looking at his house.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ I glanced over. A woman, whom I now knew to be Laura’s mother-in-law, Geraldine, was looking out of the downstairs window. I smiled and gave a little wave, but she couldn’t have seen me for she turned and disappeared into the room.
‘Home,’ Paula said.
‘Yes, we’re going home now.’
We continued haltingly up the street with Paula stopping every few steps to examine something that caught her interest, including most garden gates, walls, fences, lampposts, fallen leaves, every tree in the street and most of the paving slabs. But I knew that the exercise would tire her out and that once home, after she’d had a drink and a snack, she’d have at least an hour’s sleep, which would give me the chance to continue researching and writing my dissertation: ‘The psychological impact being in care has on a child and how it affects their educational outcome.’
That afternoon, before I set off to collect Adrian from school, I wrote my telephone number on a piece of paper and tucked it into my pocket ready to give to Laura. She wasn’t in the playground and for a while it appeared that no one had come to collect Kim, for I couldn’t see Geraldine either. The Klaxon sounded for the end of school and the children began to file out, and then Geraldine rushed into the playground at the last minute and went over to Kim. Adrian arrived at my side very excited because his class was going on an outing. He handed me a printed sheet with the details of the outing and a consent form, and I carefully tucked it into my bag. I looked around for Geraldine, but she’d already gone. We joined the other parents and children filing out of the main gate and then crossed the road. As we turned the corner into our street I could see Kim and her grandmother a little way ahead. Kim turned and gave a small wave. We waved back. I was half-expecting Geraldine to turn and acknowledge us, or maybe even wait for us to catch up and fall into conversation, but she didn’t. She kept on walking until they arrived at number 53, where she opened the garden gate and began up the path. As we drew level she was opening the front door.
‘Excuse me!’ I called. She turned. ‘Could you give this to Laura, please?’ I held out the piece of paper. ‘It’s my telephone number. I said I’d let her have it. Is she all right now?’
Geraldine nodded, straight-faced, and tapped Kim on the shoulder as a signal for her to collect the paper.
Kim ran down the path and smiled at me as she took the paper. ‘Thank you,’ she said politely.
‘Say hi to your mum,’ I said.
‘I will.’
With another smile she ran back up the path to her grandmother, who’d now opened the front door and was waiting just inside, ready to close it. I smiled at her but she didn’t return the gesture, and as soon as Kim was inside she closed the door. With her short grey hair and unsmiling features Geraldine came across as stern. I was slightly surprised by her coldness, and it crossed my mind that she’d very likely seen me that morning through the front-room window and, for whatever reason, had chosen to ignore me.
Chapter Two
Very Concerned (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
I saw Geraldine in the playground every day for the rest of that week – in the morning when she took Kim to school, and in the afternoon when she collected her – but she didn’t acknowledge me or make any attempt to start a conversation. Neither did she have anything to do with any of the other parents waiting in the playground, which was unusual. It was a relatively small school, and friendly, so that eventually most people started chatting to someone as they waited for their children. But Geraldine didn’t; she hurried into the playground at the last moment and out again, aloof and stern-looking. By Friday, when Laura still hadn’t reappeared, I began to wonder if she was ill. She’d had a funny turn earlier in the week, on her first outing with Liam – perhaps she’d been sickening for something and was really poorly. Although Geraldine apparently didn’t want anything to do with me, Laura hadn’t been so hostile, and given that we lived in the same street and our children attended the same school I felt it would be neighbourly of me to ask how she was. If you are feeling unwell and someone asks after you it can be a real pick-me-up. So on Friday afternoon when Geraldine collected Kim from school I intercepted her as she hurried out of the playground.
‘I was wondering how Laura was,’ I said. ‘I’m Cathy. I live in the same street.’
‘Yes, I know who you are,’ she said stiffly. ‘Laura is fine, thank you. Why do you ask?’ Which seemed an odd question.
‘When I last saw Laura she wasn’t feeling so good. She came over a bit hot and wobbly. I wondered if she was all right now.’
‘Oh, that. It was nothing,’ Geraldine said dismissively. ‘It was far too soon for her to be going out and she realizes that now.’
I gave a small nod. ‘As long as she’s not ill.’
‘No, of course not,’ she said bluntly.
‘Good. Well, if she ever fancies a change of scenery and a coffee, she knows where I live.’
‘Oh, she won’t be up to that for a long while,’ Geraldine said tartly. ‘I’ve told her she’s not to go out for at least another four weeks, possibly longer. That’s the advice we had after giving birth.’ Taking Kim by the arm, she headed off.
Not go out for another four weeks! You could have knocked me down with a feather. Wherever had she got that from? It was nearly three weeks since Laura had given birth and as far as I knew there was no medical advice that said a new mother had to wait seven weeks before going out, unless Geraldine was confusing it with postpartum sex, but even then seven weeks was excessive if the birth had been normal. More likely, I thought, Geraldine was suffering from empty-nest syndrome and she liked being the centre of the family and having Laura rely on her. It would make her feel needed, and if that suited Laura, fine. It was none of my business. I’d been reassured that Laura wasn’t ill, and I had my family to look after and work to do.
It was the weekend and the weather was glorious, so Adrian, Paula and I spent most of Saturday in the garden, where the children played while I read and then did some gardening. On Sunday my parents came for the day and after lunch we were in the garden again. In the evening after they’d gone, my husband, John, telephoned from America where he was working. He’d got into the habit of telephoning on a Sunday evening when it was lunchtime where he was. We all took turns to speak to him and tell him our news. Even little Paula ‘spoke’ to him, although she was bemused by the workings of the telephone and kept examining the handset, trying to work out where the voice was coming from, rather than holding it to her ear.
On Monday the school week began again, and as the weather was fine we walked to and from school. I only used my car for school if it was raining hard or if I had to go somewhere straight after school. Geraldine continued to take Kim to school and collect her, and continued to ignore me and all the other parents. Perhaps she was just shy, I thought, although she had a standoffish, austere look about her. Each time I passed Laura’s house, number 53, which was four times a day (on the way to and from school), I glanced over. But there was never any sign of Laura or baby Liam, so I assumed Laura was making the most of having Geraldine in charge and was relaxing indoors or in the back garden. Sometimes Paula pointed to the house and, remembering that Liam lived there, said, ‘Baby.’ If she was out of her stroller and walking, she tried the gate – and most of the others in the street!
On Thursday afternoon, once we’d returned home from school, we hadn’t been in long when the telephone rang. It was a social worker asking if I could do some respite and look after a little boy, Darrel, aged three, for that night and all day Friday. His mother, Shelley, a young, single parent, had to go into hospital as a day patient and the person who was supposed to have been looking after Darrel had let her down at the last minute. She had no one else she could ask at such short notice, and I said I’d be happy to help and look after Darrel.
‘Shelley’s a young mum but she’s a good one,’ the social worker said. ‘She’ll bring Darrel to you at about six o’clock this evening. She said she’d bring everything he needs, but she’s fretting that she’s run out of meatless sausages. She’s a vegetarian and she’s bringing up Darrel the same. Apparently he loves meatless sausages for lunch, but she hasn’t got time to go into town and buy more. I’ve told her you’ll be able to cook him something else vegetarian.’
‘Yes, of course I will, but tell her I’ll see if I can get some of the sausages. If she’s not bringing Darrel until six, I’ve got time to pop down to our local supermarket. I’m sure I’ve seen some there.’
‘Oh, you are good. I’ll tell her. It’s the first time Darrel has been away from her overnight and she’s getting herself into a bit of a state. It’s understandable.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed.
‘She has to be at the hospital at eight o’clock tomorrow morning and she should be discharged later that afternoon. If she does have to stay overnight or doesn’t feel up to collecting Darrel on Friday evening can he stay with you for a second night?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Thank you. I’ll phone Shelley now and reassure her, and give her your contact details.’
‘I’ll see her about six then.’ We said goodbye and I hung up. I hadn’t been told what was wrong with Shelley and I didn’t need to know. But I could appreciate why she was anxious at being separated from her son and was fretting because he would miss his favourite food. I’d seen the meatless sausages in the freezer cabinet at the supermarket a few weeks before when I’d been looking for something else. I just hoped they’d still have some in stock. But it’s strange the way things work out sometimes, as if it’s meant to be, for had I not offered to go to the supermarket I would probably have remained ignorant of what was really going on in Laura’s house.
‘Sorry,’ I said to Adrian and Paula. ‘We’ve got to pop down to the shop.’
Adrian pulled a face. ‘We’ve only just got in and I wanted to play in the garden.’
‘You can play as soon as we return,’ I said. ‘We won’t be long. We’re looking after a little boy tonight and he likes a special type of sausage. I want to see if I can buy some.’
Adrian was growing up with fostering, as was Paula, so it didn’t surprise him that a child could suddenly appear and join our family. It was when they left that he didn’t like it. Neither did I, but as a foster carer you have to learn to accept that the children leave you, and you take comfort from knowing you’ve done your best to help the child and their family, and then be ready for the next child.
‘Can I have an ice cream from the shop then?’ Adrian asked cannily.
Usually the answer would have been, ‘No, not before your dinner,’ but given that he was having to come out again and go shopping rather than playing in the garden, I thought a little reward was in order.
‘Yes, a small one that won’t spoil your dinner,’ I said.
‘Yippee, ice cream!’ Adrian said.
‘Ice cream,’ Paula repeated.
‘Yes, you can have one too.’
As Adrian put on his trainers I fitted Paula’s shoes and then lifted her into the stroller, which I kept in the hall.
The local supermarket was at the bottom of my street, to the right, on the same road as the school. While it wasn’t suitable for a big shop it was very useful for topping up, and I often popped in if we were running short on essentials. If they didn’t have the sausages in stock I would tell Shelley I’d tried and then ask her what else Darrel liked to eat. I was sure I’d be able to find something else he liked. Although he was only staying with me for a day or so, it was important the experience was a good one for him and his mother, and that included meeting his needs and accommodating his likes and dislikes where possible. I would also ask Shelley about Darrel’s routine, and I’d keep to it as much as possible to minimize the disruption to him. Even so, despite everything I was going to do, he was still likely to be upset – a three-year-old left with strangers. Had this not been an emergency respite placement he could have come for a visit beforehand to meet us, so it wouldn’t be so strange for him.
As we walked down the street Adrian asked, ‘Will Darrel go to my school?’
‘No, he’s not old enough for school yet,’ I said.
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Adrian said, with an embarrassed grin. ‘I knew that really. I am a muppet.’
‘Muppet,’ Paula repeated.
‘You’re a muppet,’ Adrian said, teasing his sister and ruffling her hair.
‘Muppet,’ she said again, giggling.
‘You’re a muppet,’ Adrian said again. And so we continued down the street with the word ‘muppet’ bouncing good-humouredly back and forth between the two of them.
‘So how do we cross the road safely?’ I asked Adrian as we arrived at the pavement edge.
‘Think, stop, look and listen, and when it’s all clear walk, don’t run, across the road,’ he said, paraphrasing the safety code that they’d been taught at school.
‘Good boy.’
We waited for the cars to pass and then crossed the road and went into the supermarket. I took a shopping basket and we went straight to the freezer cabinet. To my relief they had three packets of meatless sausages; I took one and placed it in the basket. Adrian then spent some time selecting ice creams for him and Paula and put those in the basket too. Paula reached out and began whining, wanting her ice cream straight away. ‘I have to pay for it first and take off the wrapper,’ I said.
We headed for the checkout. As we turned the corner of the aisle we saw Kim with a shopping basket on her arm, looking at a display of biscuits. ‘Hello, love,’ I said. ‘Are you helping your mum?’
‘Yes,’ she said, a little self-consciously. I glanced around for Laura but couldn’t see her. ‘Where is she?’ I asked her. ‘I’ll say hello.’
‘She’s at home,’ Kim said.
‘Oh, OK. Tell her I said hi, please.’
Kim smiled and gave a small nod.
I wasn’t going in search of her grandmother, whom I assumed was in one of the other aisles, to say hello, so we continued to the checkout. There was a woman in front of us and as we waited another joined the small queue behind us. Then, as we stepped forward for our turn, I saw Kim join the queue. The cashier rang up our items and placed them in a carrier bag, which I hung on the stroller. I paid and before we left I looked again at Kim and smiled – she was still waiting in the queue, without her grandmother.
Outside the shop I parked the stroller out of the way of the main door and gave Adrian his ice cream, and then removed the wrapper from Paula’s. I glanced through the glass shopfront and saw that Kim was now at the till. ‘Surely Kim isn’t here alone?’ I said out loud, voicing my concerns.
Adrian shrugged, more interested in his ice cream.
I threw the wrappers in the bin but didn’t immediately start for home.
‘Can we go now?’ Adrian asked impatiently. ‘I want to play in the garden.’
‘Yes, in a minute.’
I watched as Kim packed and paid for her shopping and then came out. ‘Are you here alone?’ I asked her.
She gave a small, furtive nod, almost as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
‘We can walk back together,’ I suggested.
She gave another small nod and we crossed the pavement and waited on the kerb. I was surprised and concerned that Kim was by herself. She was only seven, and while there is no law that states a child of seven shouldn’t go out alone I thought it was far too young. She wasn’t in sight of her house, she was by herself and she’d had to cross quite a busy road. A foster child certainly wouldn’t have been allowed to make this journey alone at her age, and neither would I have allowed my own children to do so.
‘Is your mother all right?’ I asked Kim as we began up our street. I wondered if there had been an emergency, which had necessitated Kim having to buy some items.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said politely.
‘Where’s your gran?’ I asked, trying not to sound as though I was questioning her.
‘At her house,’ Kim replied.
‘And you’ve been doing some shopping for your mother?’ She nodded. ‘Do you often do the shopping?’ I asked after a moment, for she appeared quite confident in her role.
‘Yes, sometimes, since Mum had Liam.’
‘Does your gran not do the shopping then?’
‘Sometimes, but Mum doesn’t always like the things Gran buys.’
