Terrified

by Angela Hart

  ‘Everything all right?’ Jonathan asked, bringing me a cup of tea.

  ‘Not really,’ I said, relaying the conversation.

  ‘Biscuit?’

  ‘Yes please,’ I said, taking three out of the tin Jonathan offered.

  He looked surprised, as I normally only treated myself to one biscuit, typically saying ‘I shouldn’t really!’ as I did so.

  ‘You know what,’ I said, dunking a custard cream into my tea and devouring it in one mouthful. ‘I’m really cross. Tricia needs to sit outside Brenda’s house until she does open the door Even if she never goes out she must have to open the door to take her shopping in from this Alf character, so she has to appear at some point.’

  ‘Yes, I agree. But Tricia is far too busy to sit there for hours on end, isn’t she?’ Jonathan said, reasonably.

  ‘I know that, but that is exactly my point! Everyone is too busy! I really wish I had the address myself and I would go there right now and find out what on earth is going on!’

  ‘Now hold on . . .’ Jonathan started.

  ‘You don’t need to say anything. I’m not going to do anything silly, and I haven’t got the foggiest idea where Vicky’s mother lives. I’m just letting off a bit of steam. It looks like Vicky has been at risk for years and years. Look how long it’s taken just to get to this point! At this rate she’ll be an adult by the time things are sorted out.’

  5

  ‘I had to lie to keep myself safe’

  In the week following our caravan trip a regular customer came into the shop and asked if she could have a quiet word with me.

  ‘Of course; I said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s about the girl you’ve got staying with you. Vicky, is it?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s like this, Angela. I’m afraid young Vicky has been making a nuisance of herself in the evenings, hanging around in the gardens up the side of the old folks’ home with a group of teenagers. My sister works there and she asked me to mention it, as she knows I come in here.’

  ‘I see. Thanks for passing this on. What exactly has she been up to? Do you know?’

  ‘Being noisy, smoking, kicking litter, that sort of thing. Last night they stuck a load of chewing gum on the wall. There’s about seven or eight of them, boys and girls. I hope you don’t mind me telling you.’

  ‘Not at all. I’m glad you did; leave it with me.’

  Later that day Vicky asked if she could go over to Izzy’s house in the evening, which is where she had told me she was the night before. I’d never stopped her visiting her friends and I’d got to know several of them by now, when they’d been over to our house. They seemed like a good bunch of kids, always making polite conversation and thanking us for having them. I was happy Vicky had plenty of pals, but I would never have let her out to hang around the streets with them, making a nuisance of herself.

  ‘Are you sure you were at Izzy’s last night?’ I said, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Vicky snapped back, flushing bright red.

  ‘I’ve been told you’ve been hanging around the old folks’ home, smoking and making a noise and a mess, when I thought you were at Izzy’s house. Or should I say, when you told me you were at Izzy’s house.’

  Vicky looked furious.

  ‘Who said that? Have you got spies out looking for me?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I run a business and I’m well known in the town, Vicky. There’s not much that passes me by. I don’t want you hanging around there again, or anywhere else for that matter.’

  ‘What am I supposed to do?’ she shouted angrily. ‘Stay in and be a hermit like Michelle?’

  Vicky stomped up the stairs to her bedroom, huffing and puffing as she went, and I hoped she would cool down if she was left to her own devices for a while before dinner, which would be ready in about half an hour Unfortunately, dinner that evening was a very frosty affair. Michelle had overheard what Vicky had said about her being a ‘hermit; which had upset her, and Vicky looked like steam was about to explode from her ears and nostrils and was not speaking to anyone.

  ‘Now then, girls, there’s plenty more spaghetti if anybody wants more,’ I said breezily. ‘Tuck in!’

  ‘Very tasty!’ Jonathan chimed. ‘Does anyone mind if I finish this last bit of grated cheese?’

  Both girls sat there glowering and didn’t say a word, and they couldn’t throw their spaghetti bolognese down quick enough so they could return to their respective bedrooms.

  ‘What do we do now?’ I said to Jonathan.

  ‘I suppose we’ll just have to wait for an apology from Vicky. I don’t think it’ll take her long, because she’s wanting to go out tonight.’

  ‘Well we haven’t told her she’s not going out again, have we?’

  ‘I don’t suppose we have, but isn’t it obvious? There’s no way she’s going out tonight now, not after this.’

  With that Vicky appeared at the door, looking incredibly sheepish and hugging the oversized arms of her tracksuit around her.

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve had to lie to keep myself safe. I don’t think sometimes. I had to lie so much, I didn’t think . . .’

  Huge tears dropped down her cheeks and she turned to walk away.

  ‘Wait a minute, love. Come here.’

  Vicky came over and gave me a hug, and she sobbed into my shoulder.

  ‘What d’you mean, sweetheart?’

  ‘I had to lie to keep myself safe. I can’t tell you . . .’

  I took a deep breath as I tried to digest what Vicky had just said. Should I ask her why she had to lie, should I tell her off for lying to us about her whereabouts, or should I just be grateful she’d apologised so quickly, and in a way that I knew was heartfelt and must have been quite difficult for her? I went with my gut feeling.

  ‘Oh, love! Thanks for saying sorry. Now remember what I told you. You can talk to me, about anything you want.’

  ‘Thanks, Angela.’

  Vicky sniffed loudly and asked Jonathan for a tissue, as he was standing next to the window ledge where they were kept.

  ‘D’you want me to go and let you girls have a chat?’ he asked as he handed Vicky the box.

  ‘No,’ she said quite firmly, looking up at Jonathan and then back to me. ‘I feel better now. I’m really sorry. I won’t lie to you again, I promise.’

  ‘That’s very good to hear,’ Jonathan said. ‘Apart from anything else, we need to know where you are for safety’s sake. And, of course, we need to think about other people who live in the town. Imagine if a gang came and stood outside our house and made a nuisance of themselves? We wouldn’t like it much, would we?’

  Vicky shook her head. ‘I didn’t even think, I just did it. Nobody cared where I was before, or what trouble I caused, as long as I was out of the house. I keep forgetting it’s different here.’

  ‘It must have been hard,’ I said. ‘Living like that.’

  Vicky shrugged and then pulled a sunny smile onto her face. ‘I survived, didn’t I? Can I go to Izzy’s now, and I promise that is really where I am going tonight!’

  ‘Oh I don’t know about that love . . .’ I said.

  ‘Nor do I,’ Jonathan said.

  ‘But we’re making some posters for the youth club together,’ she replied, looking crestfallen.

  Vicky then put her hands together in mock prayer and said, ‘Pretty please! I will even phone you when I get there if you like.’

  After swapping a look and a nod with Jonathan I told Vicky she could go, as long as she went straight there and back and absolutely nowhere else, and came home on the dot. Plus she had to apologise to Michelle before she went out, for upsetting her earlier.

  ‘Agreed! Thank you! I’ll phone you as soon as I get there.’

  ‘Thanks, I’d appreciate that. And can you give me Izzy’s number? I won’t phone to check up on you, but I’d like to have it, in case I need to get hold of you.’


  ‘Fine,’ Vicky said, reaching for a pen and paper from our telephone pad on the kitchen worktop, and writing out a number from memory.

  ‘This is it. Only it’s not in her house. It’s the phone box outside. It’s on a busy corner, and someone always gets it. If you need to ring, just ask whoever answers to knock at number thirty-six.

  Jonathan and I swapped another glance.

  ‘That’s a funny set-up!’ I said. ‘Hasn’t Izzy got a phone in the house?’

  ‘Yes but it’s been cut off. The phone box is the best way if you need to get hold of me. Don’t worry, everyone uses it like that way.’

  ‘Right. So I suppose that’s how come you know the number off the top of your head?’

  ‘Yes. I know all the phone boxes up there like the back of my hand. I’ll just go up and see Michelle before I go. Thanks again, and I’ll see you at 10 p.m. !’

  With that Vicky turned on her heel and tore up the stairs.

  We allowed her to be out until 10 p.m. as it was the summer holidays, and as always she returned punctually, having also phoned as promised.

  ‘How did the poster making go?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, we didn’t get round to that,’ she said thoughtfully.

  ‘Why not? Is something wrong, love?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose. Izzy’s not having a good time at home. Her mum’s left, run off with another bloke.’

  ‘Oh! I’m very sorry to hear that. It must be an awful shock for Izzy.’

  ‘Not really, her mum’s done it before.’

  ‘So who’s at home with Izzy?’

  ‘Her stepdad, and she can’t stand him. Hates his guts. He’s a horrible man.’

  ‘Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good at all.’

  ‘It’s not. Izzy says she’s seen how much better off I am living with you, and she wants to go into care too.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, shocked at what I was hearing.

  ‘Yes. Izzy says she always thought going into care would be the worst thing ever. So did I, but obviously it’s not! I told her I’d have done it sooner if I’d known what it was like, but I didn’t think anyone would care like you do. Anyway, I’m whacked. Night night!’

  Vicky got herself a glass of water and went upstairs, leaving Jonathan and me feeling a mixture of emotions. We were obviously worried about Izzy, and we were also touched by what Vicky had said. Without realising it, she had just paid us a huge compliment. We would normally have felt terrific after receiving such praise. If a customer in the shop complimented us on a particular bouquet or order it made us feel great; it was as simple as that. But there was something a little unsettling about feeling proud of ourselves for providing for Vicky’s basic needs and giving her what every child deserves. It was pitiful, really, that she was in the position of being so grateful for the normal things most children take for granted, and I felt sorrow more than any sense of triumph.

  ‘She’s a good kid really,’ I said to Jonathan.

  ‘She is,’ he agreed. ‘I suppose it would have been a bit too good to be true if she didn’t cause us a few headaches. That’s what teenagers do, isn’t it?’

  I nodded. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it? We’re learning how to parent teenagers without having even done the baby bit. It’s all back to front!’

  ‘I know,’ Jonathan laughed. ‘We’ll be dab hands by the time we get to this stage with our own. Experts, in fact!’

  Jonathan and I had always wanted to have a family. We met at a dance in a local ballroom when we were both seventeen, back in the early seventies. I had actually gone along with one of Jonathan’s friends, Norman, but the moment I spotted Jonathan poor Norman didn’t get a look in. Jonathan was incredibly dapper and had a wonderful smile, and when he asked me for a dance I was in heaven. After that he walked me home and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I thought I was floating on air, and we became inseparable from that day on.

  As soon as we had both turned eighteen and finished our A levels I wanted to leave the local area and experience life in a big city. I’d grown up watching my mum and dad run the florists and I wanted to work away and enjoy some independence before I settled down. Jonathan completely supported me, and agreed to come with me. I didn’t want to leave my home town forever; my plan was always to return when the time was right, most probably to run the shop. My brother, Andrew, being so much older, had long since built his own successful company at the other end of the country, and so if I didn’t take over the family business there was nobody else to do it when my parents wanted to retire. The business was very well established and it would have been foolish to let it go, but nevertheless it was always presented to me as a safety net, rather than an obligation or a pressure.

  ‘The florists will be here for you if you want it,’ my mother and father often told me. ‘The world’s your oyster. You go and follow your dreams, Angela.’

  They had raised me to be ambitious and have a ‘can do’ attitude, and I’m very grateful to them for that. Working the long hours they did, it would have helped them no end had I joined the business sooner rather than later, but they were selfless and would never have clipped my wings in any way.

  Jonathan had a completely different upbringing to me. He was the youngest of four brothers who grew up on a farm and, because he was the smallest and thinnest of all the boys, his father always treated him like the runt of the family. When Jonathan wasn’t strong enough to chop the wood his father hit him with a belt, and as soon as he was old enough to drive the tractor, from the age of about twelve or thirteen, Jonathan was regularly beaten for having crashes and damaging fences. It wasn’t until several years later, when Jonathan was learning to drive a car, that he discovered the reason he had so many collisions was because he was very short-sighted. He couldn’t read the registration plate of a vehicle ten yards in front of him, and Jonathan realised he probably should have been wearing glasses since childhood. When he told his father this, the comment he received back was, ‘So you’re half blind as well as feeble! No wonder you’re so bloody useless!’

  It’s hardly surprising that Jonathan was more than happy to come to the city with me, leaving his three strapping brothers to run the farm with his father. Subsequently, for nearly a decade, Jonathan and I lived an exciting, fast-paced life in a vibrant city, two hours from our home town. I worked in administration for a bank and Jonathan had an interesting job in logistics. In the beginning we rented separate flats, though we still saw each other every day, and after we married at the age of twenty-three we bought a modern apartment near the river. My father passed away five years later, in 1985, and by that point I had finally got the city out of my system and my mother was ready to hand over the shop to me, should I be interested in taking it on. It seemed like fate was trying to tell Jonathan and I which path to take, and we were both very willing to listen. We wanted a bigger house, which we couldn’t afford in the city, and we were both ready for a less hectic pace of life.

  ‘It seems like the right time to move,’ I said to Jonathan. ‘What d’you think? Shall we sell the flat, go home and be florists?’

  ‘I think we should,’ he concluded after we’d talked it through at length. ‘But I can’t say I ever really saw myself as a florist! Seriously, though, I think we’ll enjoy it. And once we’ve got settled we could think about starting a family.’

  ‘I’d love that. It feels right. I can’t believe we’ve been away for ten years!’

  ‘I know. But as your mum would say, the world’s still your oyster, Angela.’

  ‘Yours too,’ I replied. ‘We’re in this together.’

  Of course, the business involved a lot more than arranging bouquets and we had to get ourselves up to speed to take it on. I did an evening floristry course at college while working out my notice at my office job, and Jonathan did bookkeeping and basic accountancy at night school. As well as running the shop there was a busy delivery service to maintain, and my mother had built up an excellent reputation for providing high-quality w
edding flowers and all the trimmings. We were very fortunate to be able to take over such a thriving business, and the fact we were ready to start a family seemed to fit in perfectly. Jonathan and I had always agreed that it would be better to have children back in our home town, where we both had relatives around who the children could grow up knowing. In addition to the business, we would also take over the adjoining town house my mother lived in, as it was too big for her on her own, and she owned another smaller property nearby that she was going to move into.

  As soon as we moved, Jonathan and I stopped taking precautions, hoping we’d start our family very soon, and it was several months after that when I saw the advert for fostering. Now here we were, almost three years on from when I answered the advert. Since starting fostering we’d looked after seven children in total, including Michelle and Vicky, and we enjoyed it so much the time had flown by.

  Between us Jonathan and I could manage fostering alongside running the business, though we acknowledged things might have to change when we had a baby of our own.

  Of course, I hadn’t fallen pregnant though, not yet. In hindsight, three years seems like a very long time for nothing to happen, but the reality was that I was happily getting on with my life, I was still young and I can honestly say I wasn’t worried in the slightest. I think that’s partly because it was a different era back then. Infertility was not something people generally talked about, and I was very much of the mind that I would fall pregnant if and when it was meant to be. Jonathan and I had never discussed going for tests, but when he made his remark about us being ‘dab hands’ once any children of our own became teenagers, it triggered a discussion.

  ‘Do you think we will actually have any?’ I asked frankly.

  Jonathan and I were so close we never had to tiptoe around conversations like this. It was typically me who asked bold questions, though; I’d much rather have everything out in the open. Jonathan is not a person to bury his head in the sand either, but nevertheless he prefers to take the lead from me when there is something of this magnitude on the agenda. He had been standing up when I asked the question, and he hesitated and sat down thoughtfully.