by Cathy Glass
Anne finished writing and looked along the table. ‘Well, if there’s nothing further, that’s it then. Well done.’ She smiled at Tayo who grinned back.
Danuta Boyd immediately stood. ‘I must go; I’m in another meeting. Thank you.’
Anne, Sandra and I got to our feet. Normally I would have made myself available to talk to the parents with the social worker present but given Minty’s refusal to acknowledge me, that was going to be a little difficult to say the least. I hovered, looked at Sandra, then at Minty, then at Tayo.
‘Mrs Mezer,’ Sandra said, in a soft, neutral voice that couldn’t have upset anyone, ‘would it be helpful for you to have a chat with Cathy? It might allay some of your worries.’
Minty looked up. ‘Fuck off the lot of you,’ she snarled.
So I took it that she didn’t.
We left pretty quickly after that. Without being asked, Tayo stood up, gave his mother a quick peck on the cheek, and said, ‘See you tomorrow, Mum.’ He bounded to my side. Sandra motioned for us to go, and I went out with Tayo, passing the security guard still posted in the corridor.
Chapter Nine
Hunger
We were crossing reception on our way to the exit.
‘Will my dinner be ready when we get home?’ Tayo asked.
‘No, but don’t worry, you won’t be hungry, I’ll do something quick.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘It’s only a quarter to five.’
‘I don’t like being hungry,’ he murmured.
‘No,’ I agreed absently. He appeared to have recovered from his encounter with his mother far more quickly than I had. Perhaps I’m a coward or of a delicate disposition but I loathe verbal and physical aggression of any kind, and am easily upset by it. Tayo was probably used to his mother’s volatile nature, which was why he seemed so unruffled, but it chilled me to think that I was going to have to work with Minty for the best part of a year. There would be more meetings at Social Services, and I would see her twice a week when I took Tayo to contact, and I’d have to speak to her when I made the two telephone calls each week. It was a long time since I’d met with such open hostility at the first meeting, and yet again I wondered how Tayo had remained comparatively normal. With his good manners and amiable disposition, he was so unlike his mother in every way that I could well have believed there’d been some mix up and that he was really someone else’s child.
‘Have you got a snack in the car?’ Tayo asked as we got in.
‘No. But you had lunch, didn’t you? You’ll be all right until we get home.’ I started the engine and pulled out of the car park, which was quickly emptying at nearly five o’clock. Two minutes later Tayo asked again about a snack. ‘Look, love,’ I said, trying to concentrate on turning right in the rush hour traffic, ‘I haven’t got anything, and we’ll be home in twenty minutes. Could you sit quietly please? I’m driving.’
‘I don’t like being hungry,’ he moaned five minutes later.
‘Tayo, did you eat your lunch?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was it?’
‘Chicken dippers, chips and beans.’
‘And for pudding?’
‘Jam tart and custard.’
‘Well, you’ll be fine until we get home then.’ I would probably have stopped and bought something if he’d said he hadn’t eaten his lunch, but I was sure that he couldn’t be that hungry after a full meal at one o’clock, so I thought he was simply agitating, perhaps because he was unsettled after seeing his mother.
He was quiet for another few minutes, then said, ‘I might be.’
I glanced in the mirror. ‘Might be what, love?’
‘Hungry.’
I felt a niggle of irritation and was about to tell him, more firmly this time, to sit quietly and think about something else, when something occurred to me. ‘Tayo, were you often hungry when you were with your mother?’
He met my eyes in the mirror. ‘Yes. And I didn’t like it. It makes me panic.’
I could have kicked myself. Come on Cathy, I silently admonished myself, you should have picked that up. How many years have you been looking after children who’ve had no idea where their next meal is coming from?
Those of us who have never really experienced true hunger cannot fully appreciate the all-consuming fear of not knowing when or how you’re going to get your next meal. It’s not unknown in children who come into care for food to be linked to anxiety and vice versa. Tayo had just seen his mother and it had triggered those same feelings of worry and deprivation. He must have been reminded of all the times he’d gone to bed or woken up with that gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach, and panicked.
‘Tayo,’ I said firmly, ‘listen to me. You will never ever be hungry with me, I promise you that. You will always have regular meals. I’ve looked after other children who hadn’t been fed and I know the feeling you’re talking about. Those children felt the same thing.’
‘Did they?’ he said. ‘I thought I was the only one.’
‘No, love, unfortunately not. It’s more common than people think.’
He thought about this for a while then said, ‘It was OK when I stayed with friends, they gave me food, but when we were in rented, Mum didn’t have the money. Once I went for two days without anything, then the woman at the hotel gave me a cooked breakfast.’
Cooked breakfast, I thought. That probably explained his feelings of being deprived when I hadn’t made him a cooked breakfast and why he’d wanted to mention it to his teacher. Then I thought over what he’d just said. ‘Did you and your mum live in a hotel?’ I wondered how Minty would have had the money to stay in a hotel.
‘Yes, you know – they’re called guesthouses sometimes, or B&Bs. If we stayed in them, we had to leave early before the owner got up. Otherwise they asked Mum to pay and there was a scene because she never had the money. It was easier in rented because the owner didn’t live there – but then there was no one to ask for food.’
‘That sounds dreadful, Tayo, no wonder you panicked.’
I imagined the two of them, Minty and her schoolboy son, surviving on their wits and living like criminals on the run, a few days here, a few days there, then taking off before the owner demanded payment.
‘Those two days when you didn’t have any food – can you remember what Mum was doing?’
‘Working,’ he said, his face anxious with the recollection. ‘I don’t know where. She went off in a taxi. Sometimes she left food for me like bread rolls, which I ate in the room, but she didn’t that time so in the end I had to come out of the room and ask someone for food. I didn’t know when she was coming back.’
‘So you were alone in the room for two days, without food?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
I felt anger and pity rush up inside me as I imagined him in some low-grade hotel room, desperate for something to eat but too frightened to open the door until eventually he was forced to, probably because he didn’t know if his mother was ever coming back. I kept my voice neutral. ‘Do you know where that hotel was?’
‘South London, I think. It wasn’t a nice area. There were lots of fights outside.’
‘And do you know how long you were living like that? In guesthouses and rented, and moving all the time?’
He sighed. ‘It’s always been like that. We once stayed in a house for three months but there was no electricity, and the windows were boarded up. There were lots of people and I didn’t like them. They drank a lot and stuck needles in their arms. There wasn’t any water to wash with so we had to go to the toilets in the shops.’
‘It’s called a squat,’ I said, horrified that Minty had taken her son to live among drunks and addicts in filthy, unsafe conditions. ‘That’s no way to live and you shouldn’t have been taken there. It’s bad enough for an adult, let alone a child. And it was wrong of your mother to leave you alone for two days. It will never happen again.’
I needed to make it quite clear to Tayo that he wouldn’t have to suffer like that an
ymore. Perhaps he felt that now I had seen his mother and her temper, he could open the door a little bit more and let me peep in, and that he could start to tell me the truth. And again I wondered how Tayo had survived all this and remained apparently unscathed.
When we arrived home, I told Tayo about the Saturday morning football, and gave him the Adidas bag with the pen, pencil and crayon set in it. He was very pleased on all counts, though not as pleased as when he sat down at the table and tucked into the fish and chips I’d picked up on the way home. I don’t rely on takeaways very often but every now and then it was a treat to have grease-laden but delicious fish and chips with oodles of tomato ketchup and white bread.
I finished first, and left the children at the table while I set about some housework. There was laundry to be folded and put into the airing cupboard upstairs. I was just tucking some sheets away when Paula suddenly ran up the stairs and dashed past me, in floods of tears.
‘Whatever is the matter?’ I called. I left the sheets and followed her.
She rushed into her bedroom and flung herself on her bed, sobbing uncontrollably. ‘I hate him! I hate him! I wish I was dead.’
‘Who? What’s the matter?’
‘I hate him!’ she cried again.
‘Who?’
‘Tayo!’
‘What’s happened?’ I asked, sitting on the bed. Paula was face down, hands over her head, beside herself with grief. I took her hand and tried to ease it away so I could see her face, but she snatched it back. ‘Paula, love, what’s the matter. Is it something he’s said?’
But she didn’t answer, her body wracked by sobs. Then Lucy appeared in the doorway.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked her. ‘Do you know why Paula is so upset?’
She nodded. ‘Tayo’s been very rude to both of us.’
I was astonished. I couldn’t imagine softly spoken Tayo being so rude he could reduce Paula to this state. ‘But what’s he said?’
Lucy came further into the room and looked anxiously at her sister. ‘Don’t worry, Paulie,’ she said gently. ‘He’s a prat.’
I stared at her aghast. What on earth had Tayo done to make Paula so upset, and for Lucy to turn against him so quickly? I’d only left the table five minutes ago. I stroked Paula’s hair, and looked at Lucy. ‘What did Tayo say?’
She perched on the bed next to her sister. ‘He called me yellow because of my skin colour, and told Paula she was ugly because of her spots.’
I was shocked. ‘What? Just now?’
Lucy nodded. ‘I’m not bothered by what he said to me. He’s just a silly little boy. But it was horrible to say that to Paula.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘Still at the table, eating.’
I was furious. When I’d spoken to Tayo about respecting differences in appearance, I’d used Lucy as a positive example, and he’d turned it round and used it against her. But worse was his remark to Paula. She’d had acne for two years, and I knew how she suffered because of it. Despite all the prescriptions from the doctor, and every potion available from the chemist or the Internet, it had stubbornly refused to go. All I had been able to do was to reassure her that it would pass in time, and constantly tell her how nice she looked, and what an attractive girl she was, but her confidence had suffered nevertheless. Tayo couldn’t have picked a crueller weapon to attack her with – but presumably he’d known that, which was why he’d chosen it. Lucy was that bit older, proud of her ethnicity, and with a boyfriend in tow, so she could bat Tayo’s remark away without being hurt by it.
‘Look after Paula, please, love,’ I said to Lucy. ‘I’m going down to see Tayo now.’
I stormed down the stairs and into the breakfast room where Tayo was busy finishing off the chips the others had left.
‘Tayo!’ I demanded. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He looked up, wide-eyed and innocent. ‘Whatever made you say those hurtful things to Lucy and Paula? And please don’t try to deny it!’
He shrugged, and popped another chip in his mouth with the kind of defiant and aggressive manner I’d seen in Minty that afternoon.
‘Well? I’m waiting. I’d like an explanation, please. You’ve been very cruel and hurtful to two people who’ve done nothing to you, and that hurts me too. Why?’
He finished chewing and swallowed, then just looked at me, still defiant.
‘Right, Tayo. You’ve lost your television for tonight. I will not have cruel remarks said by anyone or to anyone in this house. I am ashamed and appalled and very disappointed. It must never happen again, do you understand? When you’re ready you can apologize but for now go to your room.’
Tayo began to look unsure of himself. I’m usually quietly spoken and when I do raise my voice it is all the more effective.
‘Go to your room now,’ I said sternly. ‘And do not put the television on.’
He got up and walked past me with his gaze lowered, then went upstairs. I hated dishing out punishments, preferring talk and cooperation, but Tayo’s offence was serious and I had to be strict with him. Hurtful personal remarks that bordered on racism could not be tolerated, and he had to know that.
I returned to Paula, although there was little I could say to make her feel better. I cuddled her until she stopped crying and I left her talking with Lucy. In many respects a cruel and spiteful remark, designed to hit where it really hurts most, is far worse than any kick or thump. Not for the first time, I blamed myself for bringing a child into the house who had caused upset, and wondered what damage it was doing to my family.
An hour later, I knocked on Tayo’s bedroom door and told him it was time to have his shower. He was quiet and subdued as he gathered together his pyjamas and went off to the bathroom. I was in my room when he knocked on the door, clean and ready for bed, and asked if he could speak to the girls. We went to Paula’s room, where she and Lucy were still together. I knocked on the door and put my head round it.
‘Tayo’s got something to say to you,’ I said, hoping they’d find it within themselves to listen.
Paula shook her head. ‘I don’t want to speak to him tonight.’
I couldn’t blame her, and it wouldn’t do Tayo any harm to know how badly she was hurt.
‘I’ll see him,’ Lucy said, and went to the bedroom door.
I watched Tayo as he spoke. ‘I’m sorry I said those hurtful things to you and Paula,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean them. I won’t do it again.’ He did look genuinely sorry.
‘All right,’ Lucy said, still a touch cool with him. ‘I’ll tell Paula. We accept your apology.’
Tayo went to his room and I followed. I drew the curtains and saw him into bed. ‘See you in the morning,’ I said. ‘And remember, I don’t ever want a repetition of that.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I won’t. I know it hurts. I don’t like it when my mum calls me smelly.’
‘Exactly,’ I agreed. Perhaps it was his mother’s remark about him smelling that had sparked the verbal attack on Lucy and Paula: a small example of the abused going on to abuse.
‘Cathy?’ he said, with big eyes looking up from under the duvet. ‘I don’t suppose you want to give me a kiss tonight, do you?’
‘Tayo,’ I said, ‘another thing you will learn about living in this family is that we forgive each other. Of course I’ll give you a kiss.’
I leaned forward and planted the kiss on his forehead. ‘Goodnight,’ I said. ‘See you in the morning.’ I wasn’t quite ready for the intimacy of our bed bugs routine, even if I had forgiven him.
It had been a long day. Tomorrow would be a fresh start.
Chapter Ten
Responsibility
Paula avoided sitting at the breakfast table with Tayo the following morning. She came down early while Tayo was getting dressed and ate her toast before he arrived. Their paths didn’t cross until Paula, Tayo and I were in the hall, unhooking our coats from the stand, and getting ready to leave.
‘Morning, Paula,’ Tayo said normally.<
br />
I watched as Paula glanced in Tayo’s direction and nodded. This was her way of saying she was almost ready to forgive him, and I hoped by the evening we would be back to normal. I hated having an atmosphere in the house.
Tayo and I arrived at school at eight forty-five, and he got out of the car and then spent some time adjusting his new school bag on his back. I could tell he was very pleased with it.
‘Have a good day,’ I said. ‘And make sure you are ready when the bell goes. You’ve got contact.’
‘OK. Oh, Cathy, I forgot to tell you yesterday, I had homework, but I left it at school.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘All right, it’s a bit late now. Apologize to Mrs Gillings, and tell her you’ll do it over the weekend. And make sure you remember to bring it tonight.’
He nodded, then looked past me and down the road. I turned and saw his friend Sam coming. I waited until Sam drew close then watched as the two of them walked the short distance to the school.
Whether Tayo had genuinely forgotten his homework or not, I wasn’t sure. His thoughts had no doubt been occupied by the placement meeting yesterday and seeing his mum, so it was quite possible, and I would give him the benefit of the doubt. Whether he would apologize to Mrs Gillings and offer to do the missed homework over the weekend was less certain, so I would check.
When I arrived home, having made a detour via the supermarket to stock up on essentials, I telephoned the school and asked if it was possible to speak to Sonya Gillings, or leave a message for her. It was morning break and I was put through to the staff room.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ I said when she came on the line. ‘I wanted to make sure Tayo had told you about his homework.’
‘Yes, he did. He came to me first thing and apologized. He said he hadn’t done it because there was nowhere quiet for him to study.’
