Daddy’s Little Princess

by Cathy Glass

  ‘That’s kind of you, love,’ I said. ‘But I’d prefer it if you could look after Paula while I go up.’

  I helped Paula out of her coat, then Beth took her through to the living room while I began upstairs. It occurred to me that the only upsets in the house in recent weeks had been as a result of absent fathers – Beth’s, and Adrian and Paula’s. And although the reasons for their absences were different, the results were still the same: very unhappy children who needed comforting and reassuring.

  Adrian’s bedroom door was closed, so I knocked lightly before going in. He was sitting on the floor with his back resting against the side of the bed, gazing down at the model aeroplane he held in his lap.

  ‘Can I join you?’ I asked, as I entered his room.

  He gave a small nod but didn’t look up.

  I went over and sat beside him, also using the bed as a backrest. ‘You made a good job of that plane,’ I said. He’d spent weeks making it and had been looking forward to showing his father at the weekend.

  ‘I’m going to give it to Grandpa,’ he said. Which surprised me, as all the other models he’d made were displayed on a shelf in his room.

  ‘That’s nice of you. Grandpa will be thrilled, but are you sure you don’t want to add it to your collection?’

  ‘I’m sure. Can we see Grandpa and Nana on Sunday?’

  ‘Yes, if they’re free. We’ll ask them to come for dinner. I’ll telephone them later.’

  ‘I love my Nana and Grandpa,’ Adrian said, still concentrating on the plane.

  ‘I know you do, and they love you, lots. But your dad loves you too. It’s not his fault he has to work away.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Adrian said, finally looking at me.

  ‘No, love, it isn’t. Your dad misses us as much as we miss him. I’m sure you know that really.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about him right now,’ Adrian said firmly, returning his attention to the plane.

  I hesitated. ‘All right, but promise me you’ll talk to me when you feel you want to. I don’t want you bottling it up.’ He gave a small nod. ‘Good boy. Now, I’m going down to start dinner, and then I’ll telephone Grandpa and Nana. Will you come down soon?’

  He gave another small nod.

  I respected Adrian’s wish to be alone and, kissing his cheek, I came out and closed the door behind me. Because Adrian was my son – whom I’d raised from birth – I knew him very well and felt confident in leaving him alone for a while, but with a foster child I’d only known for a short time I always erred on the side of caution and never left them alone if they were upset. Even so, ten minutes later I checked on Adrian. He was half-heartedly playing with some cars. I then went into my bedroom to telephone my parents. There was something I wanted to ask Dad, apart from inviting him and Mum to Sunday dinner.

  Dad answered. ‘Hello, love. What a nice surprise. Is everything all right?’ I usually telephoned my parents in the evening, so this was out of character.

  ‘Yes. We’re fine, but I’ve just heard from John that he can’t make it home this weekend. Adrian is very disappointed. I was wondering if you could have a chat with him. You know, man to man. And also, can you and Mum come to dinner on Sunday?’

  ‘I’m sure we can,’ Dad said. ‘Let me talk to Adrian first and then I’ll ask your mother about Sunday.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I blew him a kiss down the phone.

  I put down the handset and went round the landing to Adrian’s room where I gave a brief knock on his door and then stuck my head round. He was now propped up on his bed. ‘Grandpa’s on the telephone for you,’ I said. ‘He’d like a chat. Take the call in my bedroom.’

  His face lit up and, scrambling off the bed, he went to my room as I returned downstairs to continue with the preparations for dinner. Half an hour later dinner was ready, but there was still no sign of Adrian. I went to the foot of the stairs to call him for dinner and then realized he was still talking on the phone. My bedroom door wasn’t fully closed so I could hear the hum of his voice, although not what he was saying. I decided to leave him to finish talking to his Grandpa and I joined the girls in the living room.

  Fifteen minutes later Adrian burst into the living room, grinning from ear to ear. Rushing over, he threw his arms around me and hugged me hard. ‘I love you so much!’ he declared.

  ‘I love you too,’ I said, hugging him. ‘Has Grandpa gone now?’

  ‘Yes. He said to tell you that they can come on Sunday and Nana will make an apple pie for pudding.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ I said.

  We hugged for a few moments longer and then Adrian let go and announced: ‘I’m starving, Mum. Is dinner ready?’

  ‘It is,’ I said.

  ‘I’m hungry too,’ Beth said.

  ‘So am I,’ Paula added, not wanting to be left out.

  It was past their usual dinnertime and I led the way to the dining table. I didn’t know what my father had said to Adrian – and I wouldn’t ask him, as it was private, between the two of them – but whatever it was must have been exactly right, for Adrian had returned to his usual happy self. And of course now he had recovered, Beth and Paula were happier too, and we were all looking forward to seeing my parents on Sunday. Although we saw my parents regularly, their visits were always much anticipated and had a sense of occasion. I think grandparents are so important, and not just in times of crisis. Their knowledge, wisdom, patience, love and understanding gained from years of experience are invaluable, and their presence can provide stability for the whole family.

  I didn’t hear from Jessie again that week – I wasn’t really expecting to. She’d said she’d telephone when she had any news, so I assumed she was still making enquiries. On Friday afternoon I took Paula to the mother and toddler group and then went straight from there to collect Adrian and Beth from school. All the children were very noisy as they came outside, excited by that start-of-the-weekend holiday feeling, and that evening, despite John not being home, was pleasant. On Saturday we went shopping to buy the food for Sunday dinner and also to stock up on some basics. Once in the supermarket, Adrian said he wanted to buy some wrapping paper to gift-wrap the aeroplane he was going to give to Grandpa. Then Beth said it wasn’t fair to give Grandpa a present and not Nana. (All foster children very quickly call my parents Nana and Grandpa.) Paula agreed and she and Beth chose a box of chocolates and a sheet of wrapping paper. When we’d finished the shopping we went home, and after lunch the children sat at the table and carefully wrapped their presents: Adrian his plane and the girls sharing the task of wrapping the chocolates for Nana. Adrian then said he was going to make a card to go with his present and so the girls naturally wanted to make cards too. Adrian wrote inside his: To the best grandpa in the world. Love you loads. Adrian xxx. Beth wrote in her card: I wish I had a nana like you. Love Beth x. And I helped Paula write: To Nana, lots of love. Paula. She filled the rest of the page with kisses. We put the presents and cards safely away and the rest of the day passed in the happy expectation of my parents’ visit.

  The children were awake early the following morning and wanted to dress smartly for their grandparents’ visit. Adrian chose a warm sweater and jeans, and I helped Paula choose a winter dress from her wardrobe. From Beth’s wardrobe I took out the long-sleeved grey-and-pink check dress that I’d previously chosen for her to wear when she’d visited her father and she’d decided otherwise.

  ‘It’s perfect for Nana and Grandpa’s visit,’ I said.

  Thankfully Beth didn’t put up any argument, for her choice of suitable clothes was limited. I’d bought her some joggers and a matching top and I wanted to buy more, but I had reservations in case I upset her father again. I thought the next time I spoke to Jessie I would ask her if it would be all right to restock Beth’s wardrobe with more suitable casual clothes.

  We were all ready by eleven o’clock and when the doorbell rang we rushed down the hall to open the front door. With lots of excited ‘His’, ‘Hellos’ and ‘Good t
o see yous’, my parents came in and hugged each of us in turn. There was an air of conspiratorial silence between the children as they waited for the right moment to present their gifts. I made coffee and once we were all settled in the living room the children suddenly stood and left the room without saying a word.

  ‘What are they up to?’ my mother asked suspiciously, with a smile.

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ I said.

  A minute later the children returned in a small procession bearing gifts: Adrian first, and then Beth and Paula, carrying theirs between them. Adrian went over to Grandpa and a little sheepishly set his present in his lap.

  ‘Thank you, but it’s not my birthday,’ my father said, puzzled but delighted.

  ‘Nor mine,’ my mother said as Beth and Paula presented her with their present and cards.

  Adrian looked slightly embarrassed and came over and sat next to me as Grandpa unwrapped his gift, while the girls stayed by Nana’s side and watched her. I could tell from my father’s expression when he saw the plane how very touched he was.

  ‘What an amazing piece of workmanship,’ he said to Adrian. ‘Did you make it all yourself?’

  Adrian grinned proudly. ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s fantastic,’ Dad said. ‘You’ve done a superb job, but I don’t think you should be giving it to me. Don’t you want to keep it with your other models?’ Dad knew how proud Adrian was of his collection from having been invited to view it at each and every visit.

  ‘I want you to have it,’ Adrian declared.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ Dad said. ‘I’ll find a special place for it in the display cabinet in our sitting room. Then, when we have visitors, I’ll show them what my clever grandson made for me. Thanks, lad, it’s much appreciated.’

  Adrian now went over and, perching on the arm of Grandpa’s chair, threw his arms around his neck and gave him a big hug. Meanwhile, Beth and Paula were asking Nana if she would like to try one of her chocolates, meaning they’d like to try one.

  ‘I think we could have just one before dinner, don’t you?’ Mum asked me.

  ‘Yes. One won’t spoil their appetites,’ I agreed.

  Carrying the box between them, Beth and Paula offered it to each of us and then Mum put the box to one side, ‘out of temptation’s way’, she said. Mum and I chatted for a while as the girls played and Adrian talked to Grandpa. When I said I needed to check on dinner Mum came with me into the kitchen, but once there she looked at me seriously. ‘Cathy, your father and I are worried about you. Looking after three children with John working away is an awful lot of work.’

  ‘I’m fine, Mum,’ I said. ‘Beth’s no trouble. And it’s unusual for John not to be home at the weekend.’ I took the oven gloves and opened the oven door to check on the roast.

  ‘John has missed coming home twice this month,’ Mum said.

  ‘It couldn’t be helped, and we’ve managed. I don’t suppose it will happen again for a long time.’ I basted the chicken and potatoes and then closed the oven door.

  Mum was still looking at me as though she had something to say.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘I always know when there’s something bothering you.’

  ‘Please don’t take this the wrong way,’ Mum said awkwardly, ‘but is everything all right between you and John?’

  ‘Yes, of course it is!’ I said, surprised she could think any differently. ‘Whatever makes you ask?’

  She shrugged. ‘I guess it’s just me being silly, but John doesn’t seem to be home as much as he used to be. I know you say it’s because of his new job, but I remember your father was once offered a post that involved working away, and he refused it on the grounds that he wanted to spend more time with his family, not less. I suppose things are different now; jobs are scarce and there isn’t the same choice.’

  ‘John is very career oriented,’ I said, trying to reassure Mum. ‘Promotion is important to him and I respect him for that. Please don’t worry. Everything is fine between John and me.’

  And as far as I knew, it was.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sudden Turn of Events

  February continued to rattle along at great speed as a cold northeasterly wind blew in small flurries of snow – bitterly cold but not enough to make snowmen and enjoy it. I didn’t hear from Jessie during February, although I did telephone her halfway through the month after Beth asked me to, to find out how her father was. A colleague of Jessie’s answered her telephone and told me Jessie was on annual leave for two weeks. I left a message asking Jessie to telephone me when she returned to work.

  With no contact between Beth and her father, her bond with him appeared to be slowly weakening. She talked about him less and less. When she did mention him, it was usually something like: ‘I don’t think I have a daddy any more,’ or, ‘My daddy has gone away and is never coming back.’ While I felt very sorry for her and obviously comforted her as best I could, I thought that perhaps it was for the best if Beth accepted that her father would be permanently missing from her life, for it seemed highly unlikely she’d ever live with him again or, possibly, even see him again.

  The last week in February was half-term, so the children had a week’s holiday from school. The weather stayed bitterly cold and I provided activities to do at home. We also visited some indoor attractions: a small local museum, a ball pond and an activity centre. John only missed coming home one weekend in February but to our delight took the Monday of half-term off work, and we all went to the cinema in the afternoon, which was great. That evening I raised the subject of our annual summer holiday with him, as I felt we needed to book it before long. Since we’d had children, we hadn’t gone abroad but had rented an apartment on the English coast. John said he wasn’t sure what his work commitments would be for summer, but that he’d look into it and we’d book something as soon as he knew.

  ‘I’m not sure if Beth will be coming with us,’ I said to John. ‘Although my guess is she will be.’

  ‘You need to ask that social worker what her plans are for Beth,’ John said, slightly disgruntled. ‘It’s difficult to plan ahead, not knowing. I assume Beth’s not staying with us forever.’

  I gave a small laugh. ‘It would never surprise me!’ I said. ‘But you’re right. I’ll ask Jessie when she phones.’

  As it turned out, when Jessie did telephone – on the first Thursday in March – I didn’t ask her about the long-term plans for Beth, or if she could come with us on holiday. I was too shocked by what she was telling me.

  ‘Derek was discharged from hospital on Tuesday,’ she said. ‘He’s home now and I want to set up telephone contact for Friday. I’ll need you to monitor it.’

  ‘Discharged?’ I repeated in disbelief. ‘Is he better, then?’ I’d been expecting to hear he was in police custody charged with child abuse.

  ‘He’s well enough to go home,’ Jessie said guardedly. ‘And he’d like to speak to Beth. I assume Beth would like to speak to her father?’

  ‘Well, yes. I expect she would,’ I said, completely nonplussed and thrown by what Jessie was saying.

  ‘Good. You can telephone him any time after five o’clock on Friday. But you must monitor the call. Do you have a telephone that can be put on speaker?’

  ‘Yes, the answerphone in the hall can be.’

  ‘Use it, please, and stop the call if Beth becomes upset or Derek says anything inappropriate.’

  The obvious question was: what sort of things? But my thoughts were all over the place and all the questions I should have been asking flew from my head.

  ‘If this call goes well,’ Jessie continued, ‘we can start regular telephone contact, but that’s in the future. And I need you to come to a meeting – Tuesday, one o’clock. The same room as before. It’s likely to be a long one, so allow most of the afternoon. You can tell me how the telephone call went then, so it might be a good idea to take some notes.’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed as I scribbled the date and ti
me on the notepad I kept beside the phone. ‘How long should the telephone call last? They used to be on the telephone for ages before.’

  ‘I should think fifteen minutes is sufficient for the first call,’ Jessie said. ‘Do you have Derek’s home telephone number?’

  ‘No. Just the hospital.’

  ‘Pen handy?’

  ‘Yes, go ahead.’ I wrote down the telephone number and then repeated it back to Jessie to check I had it down correctly.

  ‘I’ll tell Derek to expect Beth’s call on Friday evening,’ Jessie said. ‘It’s possible Marianne may answer the telephone, so you make the call.’

  ‘Marianne is with Derek?’ I asked, even more amazed.

  ‘Yes. She’s moved in for the time being. Why? Is there a problem?

  ‘No,’ I said, my thoughts somersaulting. ‘Should I speak to Derek or do I just pass the telephone to Beth as I did before?’

  There was a pause and then Jessie said: ‘You can speak to him, but tread carefully. I’m in a meeting soon. Is there anything else?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ I said, not understanding what was going on.

  ‘I’ll see you Tuesday, then,’ Jessie said. ‘I’m out of the office tomorrow and Monday, so if there’s a problem, call my colleague.’

  ‘All right,’ I said.

  We said goodbye and I hung up. My heart was racing and my stomach churned as I struggled to make sense of what I’d been told. All contact between Derek and his daughter had been stopped over a month ago, and now – with no explanation – we were to telephone and I was to monitor the call. Had he been cleared of child abuse? It didn’t seem likely, given the evidence against him. And Marianne had moved in, so it seemed I’d been right in suspecting her motives. But then again, who would want to live with a child molester? It simply didn’t make sense, and I assumed some explanation would be given at the meeting the following week.

  Beth no longer asked me every afternoon when she came out of school if there was any news about her daddy, so I waited until we were home and Adrian and Paula were occupied before I told her she could telephone her father. She’d gone up to her bedroom to fetch a toy, so I went up after her.