by Cathy Glass
‘Beth,’ I said, going straight in as the door was open. ‘Jessie phoned today.’
She immediately turned and looked at me.
‘She said you could telephone your father tomorrow evening. He’s left hospital and is home now.’
Beth’s mouth dropped open and her eyes rounded in astonishment. ‘Does that mean I’ll be going home soon?’ she asked.
Although Jessie hadn’t mentioned Beth going home, I’d formed the impression that she wouldn’t be. ‘Not as far as I know,’ I said gently. ‘But Jessie said if the telephone call goes well then you’ll be able to telephone him again another evening. I’m seeing Jessie on Tuesday, so I should know more then.’
Beth crossed the room and, slipping her arms around my waist, laid her head against my chest for a cuddle. I held her close. I could appreciate how confusing this must be for her. She didn’t say anything for some moments, then she raised her head to look at me. ‘Is my daddy better, then?’ she asked.
‘He’s well enough to go home,’ I said, using Jessie’s phrase.
‘He needs me,’ Beth said, dropping her arms and immediately looking worried. ‘Daddy can’t be alone. He needs me to look after him, like I used to.’
I made the snap decision not to tell Beth that Marianne was at home with her father, as I knew it would upset her, so I said, ‘I’m sure Jessie would have thought of that and arranged for a carer if necessary.’
‘As long as it’s not Marianne,’ Beth said, her old hostility returning. ‘My daddy hates her and so do I.’
Clearly Derek didn’t hate Marianne – far from it – but I wasn’t about to tell Beth that.
‘I hope someone nice is looking after my daddy,’ Beth said.
‘I’m sure they will be. So please don’t worry.’
Beth picked up the toy she’d come for and then came with me downstairs. She joined Adrian and Paula in the living room while I began the preparations for dinner. As we ate, and throughout the rest of the evening, Beth was quiet. She told Adrian and Paula once that she was allowed to telephone her father the following day, but only once. There was no excitement, as there had been previously when she’d been in regular contact with her father and had talked non-stop about her daddy, being his little princess and all the things she and her superhero father did together. I guessed she was feeling apprehensive, as I was, but there was little I could say to reassure her.
Later, as I tucked her into bed, she asked, ‘What time am I phoning my daddy tomorrow?’
‘About five o’clock,’ I said. Jessie had left the timing of the telephone call to me, and five o’clock was good, as Adrian and Paula were usually occupied watching television at that time. ‘Jessie said the call should last about fifteen minutes,’ I added, so Beth knew.
I hugged and kissed Beth goodnight, and then she slid the photograph from beneath her pillow and kissed the image of her father goodnight. ‘I knew you hadn’t forgotten me,’ she said smiling. ‘Night, Daddy, I love you. Night, Cathy.’
‘Night, love.’
The following afternoon, when we returned home from school, Beth said she was going to her room to change. I didn’t think much of it, because Beth always changed out of her school uniform and into one of her dresses when we got home. But twenty minutes later, when she hadn’t appeared, I became concerned she might be upset as the time of the telephone call approached, so I went upstairs. Her bedroom door was shut. ‘Are you all right?’ I called through the door.
‘Yes! I’m fine!’ her cheerful voice came back. ‘I’ll be down soon.’
Reassured there was nothing wrong, I returned downstairs. Ten minutes later Beth appeared. It was immediately obvious why it had taken her so long to change. She had dressed for her father in a little black skirt, a frilly see-through cream lace blouse, fishnet tights, high heels, thick make-up and bright-red nail varnish, again looking like a child prostitute. Adrian laughed when he saw her, while Paula stared aghast. We hadn’t seen Beth dressed like this or wearing make-up since she’d stopped seeing her father.
‘Are you seeing your daddy?’ Paula asked, as she had done previously.
‘No. I’m phoning him. He likes me to look nice.’
Neither the children nor I made the obvious comment that her father wouldn’t be able to see her down the phone, or that in fact she didn’t look nice. Why she felt she had to dress like this for her father I didn’t understand, but it worried me. All my previous concerns about Derek’s relationship with Beth resurfaced. I was dreading having to speak to him on the telephone – albeit briefly – and was almost hoping that Marianne would answer. Jessie had told me to make notes about the telephone contact, so away from Beth I now took a sheet of paper and made a note of what Beth was wearing to telephone her father. I guessed Jessie would see the significance in it; she was trained to spot these things.
Just before five o’clock, when Adrian and Paula were watching children’s television and the dinner was in the oven, I told Beth we’d telephone her father and she came with me down the hall. ‘We’ll use this phone,’ I said, pointing to the one on the hall table, ‘because it can be put on speaker, which means you won’t have to hold the handset.’ I wanted to make the idea of using the telephone on speaker attractive to Beth so that she wouldn’t be worried that I was listening to what she and her father said. ‘You can sit in the chair by the telephone and I’ll show you how it works.’
Beth sat by the hall table and watched as I pressed the speaker button on the telephone. Immediately we heard the dialling tone. ‘I’ll dial, and get your father on the line first,’ I explained. ‘Then I’ll press the speaker button and you’ll talk to him as normal. He’ll be able to hear you, and you’ll hear him through that mic there. Jessie wants me to stay with you during the call,’ I added.
Beth nodded, although she seemed a little nervous and kept clasping and unclasping her hands, which was hardly surprising as this was the first contact with her father in over a month. I was nervous too.
I pushed the button to end the speaker function and then picked up the handset and keyed in Derek’s telephone number. Beth was watching me carefully. I listened to Derek’s telephone ringing for what seemed a long time but was probably no more than six or eight rings. My pulse quickened. Then a male answered, ‘Hello?’ But the voice was so quiet it was nearly inaudible and I wasn’t completely sure it was Derek.
‘Is that Derek?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
‘It’s Cathy Glass, Beth’s carer.’
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, a little louder. ‘Is she there?’
‘Yes, I’ll put her on.’
I pressed the speaker button and replaced the handset. All was quite. Beth was looking at me, uncertain. ‘Just speak as normal,’ I said. ‘Your dad can hear you.’ And of course he could hear me too.
‘Hello, Daddy,’ Beth said cautiously.
‘Hello, my princess. How are you?’
‘I’m all right,’ Beth said. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m home now. I’m going to be OK.’ His voice faltered and then recovered. ‘Your daddy is doing all right.’
‘I’m worried about you,’ Beth said, now less self-conscious. ‘I want to come home and look after you. Why can’t I, Daddy? Why can’t I come home and be with you?’ Her bottom lip trembled.
‘Don’t worry about me, princess,’ Derek said. ‘I’m being well looked after.’
‘Who’s looking after you?’ Beth asked.
There was a pause before Derek replied. ‘A nice lady Jessie knows.’ Which was a clever half-truth, and I wondered how many more clever half-truths Derek had told over the years.
‘Tell me about school,’ Derek said, changing the subject. ‘Are you still doing well in all your work?’
‘Yes,’ Beth said. She began telling her father about the book the class was reading.
I sat on the bottom step of the staircase so I could use my lap as a rest and began making notes on what they were saying, although there wasn
’t really anything of significance. Their conversation went from school to food, and Derek asked Beth if she was eating well.
‘Yes,’ Beth said. ‘I like Cathy’s meals.’
I smiled, but I noticed there was silence on the other end of the telephone, and then Derek said a muted, ‘Good. What do you do in the evenings?’
Beth began telling her father how she changed when she got home, then played or watched television until dinner was ready, and then she did her homework and played some more. She broke off once and said, ‘I don’t have to hold this phone. Cathy’s pressed a button and we can both hear you.’
‘I know,’ Derek said, so I assumed that Jessie had told him I would be listening and monitoring the call.
Derek asked Beth if she was sleeping well and she said, ‘Yes. But I miss you, Daddy. Cathy gave me Mr Sleep Bear and I’ve got your photo, but it’s not the same.’
‘I know, princess. I miss you too.’
Beth then began describing what she was wearing, but unlike before, when Derek had enthusiastically joined in, wanting to know all the details, including which petticoat and underwear she had on – he now remained very quiet. Even when Beth said, ‘I put on my own make-up, but it’s not as good as when you do it,’ there was no response. So Beth asked, ‘Can you hear me, Daddy?’
‘Yes, I can hear you,’ Derek said. I wondered if his reticence in discussing what Beth was wearing was because he knew I was listening.
Ten minutes passed and then we suddenly heard a bang come from Derek’s end.
‘What’s that?’ Beth asked.
‘The front door,’ Derek said. ‘Marianne’s just come in.’
I knew straight away he’d said it without thinking, for he immediately added, ‘She’s just popped in with some shopping.’
Beth flared. ‘Tell her to go!’ she demanded. ‘She shouldn’t be there when I’m not. Tell her to go, now. I don’t want her there. Or I’ll never speak to you again.’
I looked up from my notes. Beth’s face was set in anger and her eyes blazed. She was trying to bully her father. While I didn’t have any sympathy for him, I don’t like to see a child disrespecting an adult or another child, so I said lightly, ‘Beth, please don’t be rude.’
‘I’ll talk to him how I want!’ Beth snapped at me. ‘He’ll do as I say, or else!’ Beth never normally spoke to me like that, and later I would sanction her, but for now I waited to see what Derek would say.
After a moment his voice came through weak and ineffectual: ‘Please don’t be horrible to me, princess. You know how much I love you.’
‘You can’t love me if you let her in,’ Beth thundered. ‘Has she still got a key?’
Derek was silent and I had the feeling he’d covered the mouthpiece so he could talk without being heard. When he came back on the line his voice was unsteady. ‘You’ve upset your daddy,’ he said shakily.
‘You deserve it. For choosing her over me!’
‘It’s not like that,’ Derek moaned. ‘You know your daddy loves you more than anyone else in the world.’
‘You can’t if she’s there.’
Jessie had given me the responsibility for ending the call if necessary, and with only a minute to go before the fifteen minutes was up, I saw no point in continuing the conversation – for either of their sakes.
‘Beth, I think you should say goodbye to your father,’ I said. ‘We’ll be having dinner soon.’
For a moment I thought she was going to say something else rude to me, but she didn’t. Now staring at the telephone, she said quietly, ‘I have to go now, Daddy.’
‘Yes, I heard,’ Derek said. ‘Go and have your dinner, princess. And try not to be angry with me. I love you. I’m sorry.’
Beth’s face lost some of its anger, but she wasn’t willing to let go of the subject yet. ‘Will you tell her to go, then?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I’ll tell her,’ he said.
‘Promise?’
‘Yes, I promise.’
I wasn’t sure if this was a promise Derek could keep, but he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be placed in that position. He was an adult, and despite all he’d been accused of and was being investigated for, as an adult he had a right to choose whom he saw. Beth had far too much power over him and it wasn’t good for her.
They said a subdued goodbye, then I cut the call and looked at Beth seriously. She knew she’d done wrong.
‘You’ve lost ten minutes of your television time for being rude to me,’ I said. ‘You can either go to your bedroom or come and help me lay the table.’
‘Help you,’ Beth said without hesitation, for she loved helping me.
Although it wasn’t really a punishment, I’d made the point. Beth was only a child and as such needed to learn boundaries and respect, for her own good.
It wasn’t long before Beth bitterly regretted the way she’d spoken to her father. ‘Can I telephone Daddy again, so I can say I’m sorry?’ she asked me, nearly in tears.
‘I don’t think we can, love. Jessie said one call for about fifteen minutes.’
‘Oh dear. Can you tell Jessie to tell my daddy I’m sorry and I love him?’
‘I will,’ I said. ‘But don’t upset yourself. I’m sure he knows that already.’
Chapter Nineteen
Dr Jones
That Friday evening we sat down to dinner without John. I was expecting him to arrive home any minute, although I never knew exactly what time he would appear – it depended on how far away he’d been working, the traffic and road conditions, but it was usually around dinnertime, sometimes earlier. We finished eating shortly after 6.30 p.m. and there was still no sign of John. He wasn’t so late that I was worried, but as the evening passed and he didn’t arrive my concerns for him grew, although I hid it from the children.
When it was time for Paula to go to bed, she asked, ‘Isn’t Daddy coming home this weekend?’
‘Yes, he is, love. He’s just late. He must have got delayed.’
I took her up for her bath thinking John would very likely arrive by the time she’d finished and was in bed, so he’d be able to give her a goodnight kiss. But as I read her a bedtime story and then tucked her in and said goodnight, there was still no sign of John. ‘You’ll see Daddy first thing in the morning,’ I reassured her.
My worries for John’s safety grew during the evening. Now, if someone is late you phone or text their mobile, but back then they weren’t in common use and not many people owned one. I told Beth that John was running late, and then reassured Adrian that his father was fine but that he had been delayed, which was all I could say, not knowing the reason for the delay. Adrian stayed up later than usual in the hope of seeing his father before bedtime. To our great relief, John telephoned at 9.30 p.m. from a petrol station but said the bad weather was causing havoc on the roads and he wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half at least. He said a quick hello to Adrian and told him he would see him in the morning. Reassured that his father was all right, Adrian went to bed.
With all three children asleep, I sat in the living room with Toscha on my lap and watched the ten o’clock news. It was the usual assortment of doom and gloom, followed by the weather, which was a lot brighter. The forecaster said that the sleet showers had died out, leaving a clear night, and that all the main roads were running smoothly. I thought, therefore, that John would be home sooner than he’d expected – at any moment.
A little after eleven o’clock I was still waiting for John and was worried again. The telephone suddenly rang, making me jump. I picked up the handset and was surprised to hear John’s voice: ‘Cathy? Are you still up? I was expecting the answerphone.’
‘Yes. Is everything all right? How far away are you now?’
‘Too far,’ he said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘I’ve decided to call it quits for tonight. I’ve booked into a motel. I’ll do the rest of the journey home in the morning.’
‘Oh. How much further have you left to go, then? I thought
you were quite close.’
‘No, and I’m knackered. I’m not going to risk driving further while I’m so tired. I’ll get my head down and see you first thing in the morning. And if the bad weather sets in again, I’ll leave on Sunday afternoon.’
‘Yes, of course. Take care and see you in the morning.’
I was obviously disappointed that John hadn’t made it home that evening, but he’d made the sensible decision to book into a motel and not risk driving while tired. I settled Toscha in her bed for the night and then went to my own.
The following morning I explained to the children what had happened and reassured them John was on his way. When he walked in at ten o’clock, just as we’d finished breakfast, the children rushed to greet him. ‘I wanted you to come home yesterday,’ Adrian said, hugging his father.
‘But you wouldn’t want your dad having an accident, would you?’ John said.
Of course Adrian wouldn’t; he was just disappointed he wouldn’t have so long with his father this weekend.
I made John a cooked breakfast, as he’d left the motel with just a coffee, and as he ate we all chatted and caught up on the week’s news. As the weather forecast had predicted, the sleet had died out and Saturday was fine. In the afternoon we wrapped up warm and went for a walk in a local wood. John said that, after sitting in meetings all week and the long drive home, it felt good to ‘stretch his legs and have some fresh air’. We played hide and seek with the children, hiding behind the trees, and generally had fun, and then on the way home we bought a Chinese takeaway for dinner.
On Sunday morning we rose to another fine day. Although the air temperature was still chilly – it was only the beginning of March – the clear skies and birdsong suggested spring wasn’t far away. Adrian’s thoughts turned to his birthday, which was at the end of March. He said he’d like to take some friends bowling for his birthday treat, which John and I agreed to. I told Adrian I’d book the bowling in plenty of time. Paula, hearing talk of birthday treats, wanted to know how long it was until her birthday. It was a week after Adrian’s, but at her age she had little concept of time, so I showed her the number of sleeps on the calendar – twenty-five in all. ‘That’s a long time!’ she exclaimed. ‘Can’t you make my birthday sooner?’ which made us all smile.
