Terrified

by Angela Hart

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘And if it works out I guess it will be good practise for when we have kids of our own.’

  ‘Exactly. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And you don’t need to thank me. As usual I should probably be thanking you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You make things happen, Angela! There’s never a dull moment, thanks to you.’

  I was flattered and very pleased. Jonathan and I had always had a solid relationship and his reaction was typical. I knew he’d support me whatever the outcome, and I felt a surge of love for him.

  Now, having just seen Tricia out and returned to the kitchen to find Jonathan chatting easily with Vicky, I felt a similar wave of emotion. Jonathan was a natural with the kids we fostered, and I imagined that when we had children together he’d make the most wonderful father.

  Vicky had made herself comfortable at the kitchen table and was glugging a large glass of orange squash and talking enthusiastically about birds, of all things.

  ‘Robins are my favourites,’ she was telling Jonathan. ‘But I love all birds, really. I’d like to work in a bird sanctuary when I’m older.’

  She was studying a postcard that had been propped up on the table, and Jonathan explained that it was sent from a friend who had visited a tropical aviary in Australia. Vicky looked up when I crossed the kitchen.

  ‘Thank you for having me, Angela,’ she said, and then she accidentally let out a loud burp.

  ‘Oops, pardon me! I always do that when I drink too quick.’

  Vicky laughed raucously and showed no embarrassment, and Jonathan and I couldn’t help but smile. Some of the kids we’d had to stay wouldn’t say boo to a goose, and it was refreshing to see Vicky behaving in such a relaxed manner so soon after her arrival. Social graces were normally something we were very strict about, but clearly this was not the time to make an issue about manners.

  ‘I’ll show you up to your room, shall I? And did Tricia tell you about Michelle?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Who’s that?’

  Just then Michelle appeared in the doorway, smiling shyly and saying hello.

  ‘I can show Vicky to her room if you like,’ Michelle said, eager to please as ever.

  ‘Cool!’ Vicky said, getting to her feet and grabbing her carrier bag. ‘Let’s go! Are you fostered too?’

  ‘Yes I am. I’ve been here for two years.’

  ‘Two years? That’s a long time! Are they nice?’

  Vicky flicked me and Jonathan a glance over her shoulder and winked as Michelle led her out of the kitchen.

  ‘Yes, they are really nice, you’ll love them,’ we heard Michelle reply as they headed up the stairs.

  My heart swelled.

  ‘I’ll be up in a minute to show you where everything is!’ I called after the girls, and then I collapsed in giggles.

  ‘Well, what a character! It just goes to show you can’t judge a book by its cover I feel quite ashamed of how we reacted when we first saw her.’

  ‘Me too,’ Jonathan said. ‘What on earth were we worried about?’

  2

  ‘I’m not staying long’

  When I followed the girls up the stairs on Vicky’s first evening I was delighted to hear them talking about travelling to school together It turned out they were in the same local mixed comprehensive, though Michelle was in the year above.

  ‘You can catch the bus with me,’ Michelle was saying as I arrived outside Vicky’s bedroom and tapped on the door.

  ‘Can I come in, girls?’

  They both shouted yes and carried on their conversation.

  ‘I prefer to walk,’ Vicky said as she took her uniform and a pair of school shoes out of her carrier bag.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just do. It’s more fun; I meet all my mates on the way, why not come with us?’

  Michelle said she’d think about it before going off to her own room, offering to show Vicky her record collection once she’d unpacked. I then took over, showing Vicky where the bathroom was and how to turn on the shower.

  ‘This bathroom is for you and Michelle, as Jonathan and I have our own on the floor below,’ I explained. I was just about to add: ‘So you can feel free to leave your toiletries in here,’ when I realised Vicky had only brought the school uniform and shoes, a toothbrush and a few items of underwear, which she’d tipped onto her bed before throwing the empty carrier bag in the bin.

  Incidentally, in years to come I learned to tell the children that they did not need to ask permission to use the bathroom and were free to do so at any time of the day or night, as some had come from such dysfunctional backgrounds and were so afraid of doing the wrong thing they didn’t realise this. Vicky wasn’t the type of girl who’d have been shy about speaking up though; in fact she was quite the opposite.

  ‘Is that the only soap you’ve got?’ she said, pulling a face and looking at the bar of Imperial Leather that was stuck on a magnet and attached to the soap dish inside the shower unit.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ I said. ‘Don’t you like that one?’

  ‘I normally have shower gel. I don’t like sharing soap. At my sister’s, her husband leaves greasy marks on it after his bath.’

  ‘I see. Well, in that case I’ll fetch some shower gel from my bathroom. I’m sure I’ve got some.’

  I made a mental note of what Vicky had said; it was a good point. However much I wanted Vicky to feel at home she was a stranger at this stage, and I realised I wouldn’t have wanted to share soap with people I didn’t know.

  ‘I imagine you’ll need to get some more of your belongings from your sister’s,’ I said tentatively to Vicky, as I wasn’t sure what the situation was or what arrangements had been made at this stage, if any. All I knew was that Vicky’s sister was pregnant and needed a bit of a break before the baby arrived.

  ‘Well I won’t need much,’ Vicky replied breezily. ‘I’m not staying long. Anyway, I always wear my tracksuit when I’m not in school, so I’ll be fine.’

  Even though I had fostered children for two years, I had never been given any training, but I instinctively knew not to press Vicky for information. Of course, I wanted to ask so much, like why she was living with her sister and not her mother or father, and exactly what had prompted her sister to call Social Services, because being tired in pregnancy did not seem like a convincing reason to put your little sister in care.

  ‘OK. I expect the social worker will help us sort things out on Monday,’ I said. ‘Now when you’re ready, come down and have a look at the takeaway menu. We’re treating ourselves to a Chinese tonight.’

  ‘Awesome! Do they do chips and gravy?’

  ‘Probably! I always have Chicken Maryland, but we can ask.’

  When Vicky came down the stairs about twenty minutes later she looked noticeably subdued and was very quiet. Jonathan tried to engage her in a conversation about films, as he was going to pick up a video when he went to collect the Chinese, but she was monosyllabic.

  ‘What kind of films do you like?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t mind,’ she shrugged.

  ‘We all like funny films best. Do you like comedies?’

  ‘Not bothered, really.’

  ‘Is there anything you really don’t like then, or anything you’ve seen recently and don’t want to see again, so I can avoid those?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Well, I don’t like scary movies. I don’t understand why people want to be frightened. That’s just crazy.’

  ‘When you put it like that, I suppose it is! Perhaps I’ll just ask Michelle and Angela if they’d like to choose something, and we’ll steer well clear of horror!’

  ‘OK.’

  Honestly, it was as if Vicky had left her personality and energy up in the bedroom and was now just a shell of the girl who’d swaggered so confidently up to the house less than an hour earlier.

  ‘Are you feeling all right, love?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, fine, thanks. I’m just fired.’


  Vicky was like that for the entire weekend. Whatever we suggested, be it a walk to the corner shop, a snack or watching something on television, everything was met with a resigned shrug or an unenthusiastic ‘fine! It was frustrating, but I figured it was inevitable; Vicky had been through a major upheaval and she clearly needed time to settle in.

  ‘Would you like me to wash your tracksuit when you’re at school tomorrow?’ I asked on Sunday evening, as she’d worn nothing else since she arrived.

  ‘No, thanks, I don’t think it needs washing.’

  ‘I could put it in the tumble drier after I’ve washed it. That way it’ll be ready when you get home from school.’

  ‘Thanks but there’s no need. It’s fine, honestly. I’ll do it when I’m back at my sister’s.’

  ‘OK. I’ll phone Tricia as soon as the Social Services office opens tomorrow in any case, and see about getting some more of your things.’

  ‘Thanks, but I really don’t need much because I’m not staying long, am I?’

  Vicky was now staring into space.

  ‘I’m just letting my sister have a rest, aren’t I? That’s all. The baby’s due soon.’

  It sounded to me like Vicky was convincing herself of this, rather than stating a fact.

  ‘That’s what I was told,’ I said reassuringly.

  ‘Good. I’ll be going back as soon as the baby is born. It’s due any day.’

  ‘Really?’ I replied, because I hadn’t expected the date to be so close. ‘That soon?’

  ‘Er, I think so.’

  On Monday morning Vicky got her way and walked to school, convincing Michelle to walk with her, but they returned home separately, with Michelle travelling by bus and arriving home a little earlier.

  Michelle came to see me in the shop as usual, on her way through to the house.

  ‘Hello, love! How was Vicky this morning?’ I asked.

  ‘Er . . . fine,’ she said pointedly.

  I knew Michelle very well, and I could tell when she wanted to pass something on. Being a bit of a tittle-tattle was a weakness of hers, to be perfectly honest, and Michelle quite enjoyed sharing gossip or snitching on someone who’d got into trouble at school.

  I braced myself, wondering what she was going to tell me about Vicky. After the way she had behaved all weekend, being so quiet and withdrawn immediately following her loud and confident arrival, I really didn’t know what to expect.

  ‘Are you sure everything was fine, Michelle?’ I said, taking the bait.

  ‘Well, except . . .’

  ‘Except what?’

  ‘Except I know why Vicky likes to walk to school. It’s because she smokes! She smoked three cigarettes on the way to school!’

  For someone who had supposedly been reluctant to spill the beans, Michelle blurted this out rather triumphantly.

  ‘Oh did she?’ I said, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes, she did. I had to tell you, didn’t I, Angela? But don’t tell her I did, will you?’

  ‘I’m glad you told me, and thank you for letting me know, Michelle. Don’t worry, I won’t dob you in.’

  Michelle smiled at my use of the word dob, as it was the word all the teenagers used and not one that normally tripped off my tongue.

  ‘Thanks, Angela, and you’re welcome!’

  When Vicky came home soon afterwards I could smell the cigarette smoke on her clothes and in her hair, but I didn’t mention anything at first. She seemed to have brightened up considerably that day and was in a chatty mood, asking me if she could go to the youth club on Friday night, and a teenage disco in town on Saturday afternoon.

  ‘I’m sure that’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘Are you normally allowed to go?’

  ‘Yes, I go every week.’

  ‘And your sister is happy for you to go?’

  ‘Lorraine? Yes. I think she likes me out of the house!’

  ‘I see. In that case I’ll talk to Jonathan and we’ll work out what time you need to be home and how you’ll get there and back.’

  ‘Thanks, Angela,’ she smiled. ‘That’s if I’m still here, of course! Maybe Lorraine will have the baby before then. You never know the exact day, do you?’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ I said.

  ‘Do you want to have your own kids, Angela?’

  It was rather bold of Vicky to ask such a direct question and I was a bit taken aback at first, but I didn’t mind answering her.

  ‘Yes I do,’ I said. ‘Jonathan and I have always wanted to have a family together.’

  ‘So what are you waiting for?’

  Jonathan and I were in our early thirties so it wasn’t an unreasonable question, as it was more typical to have children in your twenties in those days. Nevertheless, I laughed at Vicky’s directness.

  ‘We’re just very happy fostering for the time being, that’s all! We’re in no hurry.’

  Despite being put on the spot, I was actually relieved that Vicky was chatting away easily, and was not asking me about her own situation. Unfortunately, I hadn’t succeeded in getting hold of anyone at Social Services all day. I’d left an answerphone message for Tricia first thing in the morning and tried her office again after lunch but nobody had called me back. This was not unusual; I knew that Tricia was dealing with a lot more children than she should have been, as one of her colleagues was on long-term sick leave and nobody had been brought in to replace him. It had been this way for many months and Social Services’ funding was decreasing, so there wasn’t a lot anyone could do about it. This was no consolation for Vicky though, because even if she was only here for a very short time, in my opinion she still needed some more of her belongings, and she also had a right to know what was planned for her.

  For dinner that first Monday evening I made a lasagne, garlic bread and salad, and at 6 p.m. Jonathan and I sat down at the table with Vicky and Michelle. The atmosphere was relaxed and the girls seemed to be getting along very well together, which was very good to see.

  ‘Ooh I love lasagne!’ Vicky exclaimed when I placed the steaming dish on the table and served everyone a portion.

  ‘This is delicious,’ Jonathan said, tucking in as soon as it was cool enough to eat. ‘Oh dear, is everything all right, Vicky?’ he suddenly added, glancing across the table. ‘You haven’t burnt yourself, have you?’

  Vicky’s face had fallen as soon as she’d tasted the lasagne, and she was now wincing quite dramatically.

  ‘No,’ she stammered after struggling to swallow the contents of her mouth. ‘It’s just that I’ve never had lasagne like this before.’

  ‘Really?’ I said. ‘It’s just the traditional recipe; I haven’t changed any ingredients.’

  ‘It’s home-made,’ Michelle said, giving Vicky a knowing look. ‘That’s why it doesn’t taste the same as the ready meals, or the one they do at school.’

  Vicky forced a smile. ‘I thought it would be like the one Lorraine gets from the supermarket. I’ve never tasted home-made lasagne before.’

  ‘Oh well, why don’t you try a bit more, love? You might find you like it better than the processed one, once you’re used to it’

  Vicky nodded and tentatively ate a tiny morsel of pasta, swiftly followed by a large hunk of garlic bread. The salad was left untouched on her plate.

  ‘I never used to eat salad either,’ Michelle said, eying the sliced tomatoes and cucumber Vicky had tried to hide under a lettuce leaf. ‘But I like it all now, especially the tomatoes. Angela’s mum grows them, you know, I help her in the garden sometimes.’

  Michelle was sounding like a bit of a goody two-shoes now and I could see Vicky had had enough of this conversation and was beginning to get irritated.

  ‘Well good for you, Michelle!’ she said rather impatiently.

  When we’d finished eating, Michelle helped me clear the table as usual and Vicky pitched in too, though rather less willingly, and she had to be asked to do so.

  ‘I hate clearing up,’ she muttered, doing the bare minimum before disappearin
g to her room.

  Later that evening I broached the subject of smoking with Vicky, after we’d watched some television together and she seemed in a fairly responsive mood. I didn’t let on that Michelle had told me about it; instead I said I had smelled it on her uniform, which was true.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, not looking too bothered her secret was out. ‘It’s not a crime though, is it?’

  ‘Well, it is actually against the law at your age,’ I replied. ‘For that reason alone I can’t sit back and say nothing, but it’s your health I’m most worried about. Smoking is extremely bad for you, especially at your age. Jonathan and I both smoked for many years before giving up in our twenties, and it was a horrendous struggle for us. I look back now and wonder why on earth I started in the first place, and I shudder to think about all the money we wasted too. Honestly, sweetheart, you should give it up before you get hooked like we did.’

  Vicky looked at the floor and bit her bottom lip.

  ‘I’ve been smoking since I was nine, Angela,’ she said, looking ashamed of herself. ‘I’m already addicted.’

  With that she started to cry.

  ‘Oh, love, I’m sorry to hear that. I really am. Here, can I give you a hug?’

  Vicky sniffed and nodded, and I moved closer to her on the settee and gave her a gentle cuddle. As soon as she was in my arms the floodgates opened, and Vicky began sobbing uncontrollably.

  ‘I thought Lorraine was joking when she said she’d had enough of me,’ she blurted. ‘Honestly I did.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart.’

  ‘She put me in the car and said she was taking me to Social Services, but I thought she would drive around the one-way system and then take me home. She’d done that before, you see, when I got on her nerves.’

  Vicky paused to wipe her grey-blue eyes and blow her nose. ‘I never thought she was serious this time. Honestly, I thought she was joking.’

  ‘Oh Vicky, it must have been a shock, love. I’m sorry.’

  Vicky was now trying her best to compose herself, and she was making a very good job of it.