by Cathy Glass
‘I understand, Mummy,’ she said sweetly.
‘Good girl.’
Beth was already in my bedroom, sprawled out on the bed and waiting for me to make the call. I sat on the edge of the bed, hoping against hope that Derek wouldn’t be able to come to the phone. I dialled the hospital and was put through to the ward. True to his word, Derek was ready and waiting and came to the telephone as soon as the nurse called him.
‘Hello, Cathy,’ he said brightly. ‘How are you?’ Ridiculously, I was surprised that his voice sounded normal.
‘Good evening, Derek,’ I said evenly. ‘I’ll put Beth on.’
‘Before you do, can I have a quick word please?’
‘Yes?’
‘I just wanted to know if Beth was all right. You know, eating and sleeping well. She sounds all right on the phone, but obviously it’s very worrying for me not to be with her.’
‘I appreciate that,’ I said. ‘Beth is fine.’ And I passed the telephone to her.
Impolite of me, yes, but my thoughts were in turmoil.
I sat on the edge of the bed as Beth talked to her father. They began by asking each other how they were and what they’d been doing. They said how much they were missing each other and blew kisses down the phone, which took on a new significance given what I now knew. Derek then began talking in a silly high-pitched voice to make Beth laugh, and they both giggled like children.
‘Oh Daddy, you’re teasing me again. Stop it.’ Beth laughed.
More silly voices followed and then Derek asked Beth what she was wearing and she lowered her voice and fluttered her eyelids as she told him she’d changed out of her school uniform and into her blue dress with the bow, to please him – in a manner almost as if she were flirting. Then she said: ‘Oh Daddy, I miss you and your warm cuddles so much.’
‘I miss you too, princess,’ Derek said. ‘I miss holding you in my arms so very much. I can’t wait until I’m home and can tuck you up in bed beside me again.’ Which, in the light of what I now suspected, made me shudder.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could listen to all of this; they’d been on the telephone for nearly half an hour. Then Paula, who’d been waiting patiently in her bed, called out: ‘Mummy, is it time for a story yet?’
‘Yes, love,’ I called back. ‘I’ll be with you soon.’
I waited while Derek finished telling Beth that he hoped he’d be home soon, and then I said to Beth: ‘You need to say goodbye now.’
She looked at me, surprised.
‘I’ll explain,’ I said, easing the telephone from her. ‘Sorry,’ I said to Derek. ‘Can you say goodbye now, please? I need to end the call as my daughter is calling for me.’
‘Can’t you leave Beth to talk to me while you see to your daughter?’ Derek asked.
Something told me I shouldn’t leave Beth alone with her father, not even on the telephone. ‘It’s difficult,’ I said to Derek. ‘Beth is in my bedroom and my daughter is in her room.’
‘Oh, OK,’ he said reasonably. ‘Can I say goodbye to Beth?’
‘Yes, of course.’
I passed the telephone to Beth, who was glaring at me.
‘Why is she telling you to go?’ she asked her father. ‘I can speak to you if I want.’
‘You’d better do as she says as you’re in her house,’ Derek said.
And just for a moment I caught a glimpse of the ‘them and us’ situation Marianne had described, only now it was the two of them against me.
‘And you’ll telephone tomorrow?’ Derek asked Beth.
‘Of course I will, Daddy. I love you.’
There now followed a series of ‘byes’, ‘miss yous’ and ‘love yous’, with kisses blown in between, which seemed never-ending, so eventually I said, ‘Bye, Derek,’ loud enough for him to hear. Taking the telephone from Beth, I returned it to its cradle.
‘You can’t do that!’ Beth said, rounding on me.
I looked at her, startled by her vehemence.
‘It’s nearly your bedtime,’ I said.
‘Not for much longer,’ she grumbled, showing a different side to her. ‘My daddy said he’ll be home soon, and then I can go to bed whenever I want.’
I find that most negative or provocative comments are best ignored, so I set my face to a cheerful smile and asked Beth if she would like a drink before she started getting ready for bed. She didn’t. She stomped round to her room and closed her bedroom door with a bang. I gave her time to cool down while I read Paula a story, and then, having said goodnight to Paula, I went to Beth’s room and knocked on the door. I went in and told her it was time to have a wash and clean her teeth. She was calm now and clearly a little uncertain of me, possibly because, unlike her daddy, I hadn’t done exactly as she had wanted. When Beth was ready for bed, I went into her room to say goodnight.
‘Can I telephone my daddy tomorrow, please?’ she asked politely.
‘I’m not sure yet, love,’ I said, honestly. ‘I’ll need to speak to your social worker first. Jessie said we were to telephone over the weekend, that was all, so I’ll have to check if it’s OK to phone every evening too.’ In truth I thought that Jessie would stop telephone contact in the light of what I was going to tell her.
Beth accepted this and then asked for a hug and kiss goodnight, which I gave her. With a smile, she turned onto her side and, slipping her hand under the pillow, retrieved the photograph of her and her father on the beach. She gave his image a big kiss through the glass and then tucked the photograph under the pillow again. ‘Night-night, Daddy,’ she sighed. ‘Night, Cathy.’
‘Night, love,’ I said. ‘Sleep tight.’
I came out and drew the door to, leaving the landing light on. I felt sorry for Beth, and I didn’t in any way hold her responsible for the relationship that appeared to have developed between her and her father. Derek was an adult and should have known better. He was responsible for overstepping the line from a healthy father-and-daughter relationship into something inappropriate and for his gratification, which I now believed it was. Beth was only a child – a child who had never known her mother’s love. She didn’t know it was wrong to reciprocate and return her father’s inappropriate affection. I wondered if Derek’s mental health had played a part, although I hadn’t been told what was wrong with him. Until I could speak to Jessie I felt I carried the burden of what I knew, just as Marianne had.
After saying goodnight to Adrian and checking Paula was asleep, I went downstairs where I sat on the sofa and wrote some notes about the points I wanted to make when I spoke to Jessie the following day. Now, foster carers are encouraged to keep a daily log in respect of the children they foster, where they record any significant events as well as appointments for the child, but then logs hadn’t been introduced, so as an aide-mémoire I made notes. When I’d finished, I let Toscha out for her evening run and then I had an early night. I was emotionally exhausted, but once in bed I found I couldn’t sleep. Marianne’s worries combined with my own concerns about the relationship between Beth and her father. I believed Marianne to be a genuine and honest person, and I thought she’d told me the truth. She’d never married or had children of her own, and it was clear to me she still thought a lot of Derek and Beth. I thought she would have made a good wife and stepmother, had she been given the chance. It said a lot of her that she continued to visit and support Derek and Beth despite the way she’d been treated by them.
After a restless night I woke feeling less refreshed than when I’d gone to bed, and I stumbled through the early-morning routine of showering, dressing and then waking the children ready for breakfast. We wrapped up warm that morning before leaving the house. The weather was freezing with a cruel northeasterly wind. We hurried to school and Paula and I were pleased when we were home again and in the warm. I made us a hot chocolate each and then I played with Paula, expecting Jessie to telephone at any moment. She still hadn’t phoned by the time Paula had her morning nap, so once Paula was settled I returned to th
e living room and, with my notes on my lap, telephoned the children’s services department. To my surprise, Jessie answered.
‘Jessie, it’s Cathy, Beth’s carer,’ I said. ‘I left a message yesterday for you to telephone me.’
‘Yes. Got it. It’s on my list of to-dos.’ She sounded rushed and stressed.
‘Is it possible to talk to you now?’ I asked. ‘It is important.’
‘Go on then, quickly. I’m due in a meeting soon.’
Quickly wasn’t what I had in mind. I needed time to describe my concerns, but I went ahead anyway. It was a big mistake.
Chapter Seven
Guilty
‘I’m worried about Beth,’ I began. ‘Marianne visited me yesterday. She brought Beth’s swimming costume.’
‘Yes, I know. I gave her your telephone number.’
‘She told me some things about Beth and her father and the way they behave towards each other that are very worrying. I think you should know.’
‘Like what?’ Jessie asked. ‘Marianne hasn’t said anything to me.’
‘No. She was going to, but she wasn’t sure what to say. It seems that Derek behaves towards Beth in a manner that isn’t appropriate.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’ Jessie asked, or rather demanded. ‘Derek is in hospital.’
‘No, before he went in, I mean. Marianne said the way he kisses and cuddles Beth isn’t right. And Beth sleeps in his bed.’
‘Lots of parents kiss and cuddle their children and let them sleep in their beds,’ Jessie said. Which, of course, was true.
‘But he’s very possessive of her,’ I continued. ‘Beth’s not allowed to play with children her own age away from school, or go to their birthday parties, or go on school outings. Miss Willow told me.’
‘Yes, I know, and I’ve told Derek that Beth needs to start taking advantage of all aspects of the curriculum, including educational visits and after-school activities.’
I knew I wasn’t handling this well, but I continued. ‘Since Beth has been with me, I’ve noticed she talks constantly about her father. And she’s brought fifteen framed photographs with her. All of her and her father.’
‘That’s nice,’ Jessie said.
‘But there’s something not right about the photographs. Their poses are more like two adults than father and daughter.’
‘I saw most of the photographs as Beth packed them. They seemed all right to me. They’ve got their clothes on. What’s wrong with them?’
‘It’s the way they’re cuddling and smiling at each other. It makes me feel uncomfortable.’
There was silence on the other end of the telephone and I could guess what Jessie was thinking. I knew I wasn’t handling this correctly, but it was so difficult to put my concerns into words.
‘Some of the things Beth and her father say to each other don’t seem right,’ I said. ‘They are too lovey-dovey. And Marianne has to sleep in Beth’s bed when she stays the night and Beth sleeps with her father.’
‘Isn’t that because Marianne’s relationship with Derek has ended and is simply friendship again?’ Jessie said. ‘I guess she sleeps in Beth’s bed or on the couch.’ Which again was true.
I went to the next point in my notes. ‘When my husband was here at the weekend, at bedtime Beth wanted him to lie on her bed and cuddle her like her father did.’
‘And did he?’
‘I told him not to.’
‘So you dealt with the matter?’
‘Yes. But there are other things.’
‘Go on.’
‘Beth is more like a wife to Derek than a daughter. She has a lot of responsibility. You saw it yourself when you took her home for her things before you brought her here. She was worried about the washing and the food in the fridge spoiling. I’ve had to reassure her that I take care of that sort of thing here. Add my concerns to Marianne’s and Miss Willow’s and there’s definitely something not right,’ I finished lamely.
There was a pause before Jessie asked: ‘Are you suggesting that Derek is abusing his daughter?’
‘No. Well, possibly. I don’t know. But I think someone needs to look into it.’
There was another pause before Jessie said formally, ‘Mrs Glass, I really don’t think there is any cause for concern, but I’m planning on seeing Derek in hospital this evening if I can leave the office in time. I’ll raise your concerns with him then and see what he has to say.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ I blurted. ‘I mean, I don’t want you to say that I said these things.’
‘How else am I to approach the matter? The poor man has a right to know what he is being accused of and to have the chance to defend himself.’
At that point I really regretted saying anything. ‘But it’s not just my view,’ I said pathetically. ‘Marianne and Beth’s teacher have concerns too. And a parent in the playground came to me and said she thought Derek was over-possessive. Her daughter is a friend of Beth’s, but she’s not allowed to play with her or go to tea.’
‘I hope Derek isn’t becoming the subject of playground gossip,’ Jessie said. ‘Now, is there anything else? I’m running late.’
‘No. I’m sorry.’
‘I’ll be in touch when I have any news. Derek is hoping to come out of hospital soon. That’s one of the reasons I am going to see him – to talk about his discharge.’
Jessie said a quick goodbye and cut the call. I sat on the sofa, staring at the telephone, feeling a complete idiot, which is what I imagined Jessie probably thought of me too. Perhaps even a malicious idiot who was prone to idle gossip. I’d been so convinced that Derek’s relationship with Beth was inappropriate – so too had Marianne and Miss Willow – but now I wasn’t so sure. All the points I’d raised with Jessie had sounded feeble and unfounded, and she’d easily justified them all as normal behaviour. Could all three of us have been wrong? I thought it was possible. Then I realized I’d forgotten to ask Jessie if Beth should telephone her father in the evenings, although given Jessie’s reaction to what I’d said I assumed the answer would be yes, for there was no reason not to telephone Derek; according to Jessie he’d done nothing wrong.
Paula woke a few minutes later and I went upstairs feeling anxious and wretched. I put on a cheerful face as I brought her downstairs and then played with her and read her some stories. But my heart wasn’t in it. I was preoccupied and then I felt guilty for not giving her my full attention. I deeply regretted telephoning Jessie. I should have advised Marianne to telephone her, for I was now convinced she’d have made a better job of explaining her concerns. I wondered if Jessie would telephone Marianne and possibly Miss Willow to substantiate what I’d said, or possibly doubt my abilities as a foster carer. I felt a failure. I’d made a decision and it had been the wrong one.
Beth was out before Adrian at the end of school and the first thing she asked was: ‘Did you speak to my social worker? Can I telephone my daddy?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Goody!’ she cried, and jumped for joy. ‘I love my daddy!’
Adrian came out and I listened to his news on the way home, but my thoughts kept returning to the telephone contact I would have to initiate later. Jessie would have visited Derek by then and told him what I’d said. My stomach knotted and I had little appetite at dinner. Apart from it being very embarrassing to speak to Derek after what Jessie would have told him, I knew he had every right to be angry. I briefly considered writing down the number of the hospital and the ward and letting Beth make the call, but I wasn’t that much of a coward. I tried consoling myself with the reminder that I’d done what I thought was right at the time and had only wanted to protect Beth. If Derek raised the matter, which I was sure he would, all I could do was apologize.
After dinner I gave Paula an early bath and settled her in bed with some toys, as I had done the evening before.
‘Is Beth phoning her daddy again?’ Paula asked.
‘Yes, love. I think she’ll be phoning him every evening while she�
��s with us.’
‘Can I telephone my daddy?’ Paula asked.
‘He’s at work, love. He’ll telephone if he can.’ I felt for her and hoped John would phone.
Leaving Paula in bed with some toys, I went into my bedroom where Beth was sprawled on the bed, waiting for me, and looking forward to speaking to her daddy. She’d said a few times during the evening that she was hoping her daddy would tell her which day he would be coming home, so she was very excited. My stomach was churning. I sat on the edge of the bed and dialled the hospital and then asked for Ward 3. When I was put through to the ward I asked for Derek, expecting that, as before, he’d be ready and would come to the telephone straight away. But instead of calling Derek to the phone, the nurse who’d answered said to me, ‘Hold the line, please.’ I heard the telephone being set down and then there was a short silence before the nurse came back on the line and said: ‘Derek is asleep.’
I was surprised. ‘Are you sure?’ I asked. ‘It’s seven o’clock and he’s expecting his daughter to phone.’
‘Just a minute,’ the nurse said, and the telephone was set down again. I heard muffled voices in the background and then the telephone was picked up and the same nurse asked: ‘Are you a relative?’
‘No. I’m his daughter’s foster carer.’
‘Derek is asleep and shouldn’t be woken,’ she said. ‘You’ll need to speak to the social worker tomorrow.’
I hesitated, confused. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’m sorry. As you are not a relative, I can’t tell you any more. You’ll have to speak to his social worker tomorrow.’
Aware something was wrong, Beth was no longer sprawling leisurely on the bed, but had sat upright and was looking at me, concerned.
