by Angela Hart
Jonathan began to cry.
‘No! Oh my God! The poor little mite. When did all this happen?’
Jonathan could barely speak. Aiden was our six-year-old nephew, the son of one of Jonathan’s older brothers. Of all our seven nephews and nieces, Jonathan was probably closest to little Aiden. He and Jonathan seemed to understand each other, perhaps because Aiden was also the youngest of four boys, just like Jonathan.
‘You tell me if they give you any trouble!’ Jonathan would say, nodding at Aiden’s three big brothers conspiratorially, ‘and I’ll beat them up!’
‘You couldn’t!’ Aiden would laugh. ‘You’re too nice, Uncle Jonathan!’
This was absolutely devastating news, and very shocking indeed; in the coming weeks we would find out that Aiden’s chances of survival were just fifty per cent. We were both utterly heartbroken and cried in each other’s arms when we heard the prognosis. However, Jonathan was absolutely marvellous once he’s got over the initial shock, rallying around his brother and making Aiden laugh whenever he visited him at home or in hospital.
‘It makes you question life,’ Jonathan said after one visit. ‘I mean, you can make all the plans you like for the future and then something like this happens.’
‘I know. You just have to make the most of what you have each day, don’t you? You have to enjoy life and live for today.’
‘You do. I’m so glad we’re fostering, Angela. You were right to follow your heart. If we can help a few kids out and make their lives better, why not? It’s what life is all about.’
Having Michelle and Vicky in the house undoubtedly helped us carry on through this incredibly difficult time, because life was busy and there were always plenty of distractions. In fact, immediately after hearing Aiden’s news I’d gone upstairs to check Vicky was all right after the upset she’d had near her mother’s home, and found more than I bargained for.
‘Are you all right in there, love?’ I called through her bedroom door. ‘Do you think you could give me your washing? I’d like to get the machine on. The forecast’s good all day.’
I’d introduced a rule whereby Vicky was only allowed to go to the Saturday disco, as she no doubt planned to do later that day, if her bedroom was tidy. So far she’d done a reasonably good job of keeping to the deal, though she always grumbled about it.
‘Haven’t got any,’ she answered.
‘Well you must have some. Can I come in, love?’
‘Yes, hang on a minute.’
I heard a rustling sound and then Vicky opened her door, thrusting her laundry bin towards me.
‘Actually there is some washing in here.’
‘Oh your room’s nice and tidy!’ I exclaimed, glancing at the empty floor, but just as I spoke a nasty smell caught in my nose.
‘What’s that?’ I said.
‘What’s what?’
‘Can’t you smell it? It’s like something’s gone off.’
Vicky sniffed the air and said she didn’t know what I was talking about, but as I stepped closer to her the smell got worse, and I realised it must be coming from underneath the bed.
‘D’you mind if I have a look under here?’ I said, lifting the edge of the quilt.
‘If you like,’ Vicky shrugged.
I got down on all fours and the smell made me heave as I peered under the bed frame. There, right under my nose, were the remains of an old chicken leg, lying on a greasy plate alongside a hardened dollop of tomato ketchup. Next to the dirty plate was an old mug with an inch of mouldy-looking brown liquid in the bottom, and a rotten apple core, discarded on the carpet.
‘Oops!’ Vicky said. ‘Sorry! Forgot about those!’
‘Vicky!’ I coughed. ‘I thought I told you we don’t allow food upstairs!’
‘You did, sorry, Angela.’
‘For goodness’ sake, this is a health hazard!’
‘Oh my God! I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration!’
‘Less of your lip, Vicky, please. This is not acceptable at all’
At that moment I glanced into the laundry bin and realised that the clothes she’d put in there were all ironed and folded
‘And what on earth is going on here? These things haven’t been worn, Vicky.’
‘Well, no. But they were on the floor so . . .’
‘So you just thought you’d put them in the laundry bin to make your room look tidy? Do you know the trouble I go to, washing and drying and ironing your clothes? The least you can do is put them back in the wardrobe if you take them out and decide not to wear them!’
‘So-rreee!’ she said quite rudely.
‘I think what you’re trying to say is: “I’m sorry Angela. I do appreciate what you do for me and I won’t take food into my room or put clean washing back in the wash ever again.”’
‘Well that’s what I mean, obviously!’
‘Vicky, love, I know you had a nasty experience earlier on this morning but that doesn’t mean you can give me cheek like this. We all have difficult things to deal with in our lives, Jonathan and I included, but that doesn’t mean we can go around treating each other disrespectfully.’
‘Sorry, Angela,’ she said, sounding genuinely apologetic this time. ‘It won’t happen again. I promise.’
I decided to tell Vicky about Aiden, as I realised I was stressed and was probably being harder on her than usual as a result. I thought she ought to know, but in reality Vicky was too young to comprehend what a tragedy it was for the family, or to support me in any way.
‘That’s sad. I hope he gets better,’ was all she said. ‘By the way, am I still allowed to go to the disco?’
Like most teens she was focused on herself and her own issues, which I understood. When there is something as dreadful as Aiden’s diagnosis on your mind, I think it makes you more accepting of others, because life really is too short to waste time arguing.
‘Yes, love,’ I sighed. ‘Of course you can go to the disco, and we’ll get fish and chips later, shall we?’
‘Yes, please!’ Vicky said, eyes lighting up. ‘Can I get a battered sausage?’
‘Why not? I might have one myself.’
‘Angela! What about your diet?’
‘Oh I know, I’ll get back on track next week. You only live once.’
7
‘She made me watch’
Tricia phoned me the following Wednesday to tell me that Lorraine had had the baby, a little boy, and that Vicky could go round and visit.
‘That’s great news!’ I said. ‘When did she have him?’
‘Last week, actually. Her husband said Lorraine didn’t want any visitors at first, but she’s prepared to let Vicky meet the baby now. She suggested Friday lunchtime.’
‘Vicky will be delighted, I know. Thanks Tricia. That’s wonderful. I don’t suppose there’s any other news?’
It was the middle of August and Vicky had been with us now for over a month.
‘No, clearly we’ll need to let the dust settle and see how Lorraine feels when she’s established a routine with the baby. I do have a review date though, it’s the first week in September, a few days before the schools go back.’
‘Oh! Have you finally made contact with Vicky’s mother?’
‘Yes, sort of.’
‘Well, what did she say?’
‘Nothing. Her neighbour Alf left a message to say Brenda had read our letter and she would attend the review, and so we didn’t need to keep knocking on her door or phoning her.’
‘I see. Well, it’s good news all round I guess. I’ll talk to Vicky as soon as I can. She’s at my mum’s at the moment, helping her with a bit of gardening.’
Vicky returned home triumphant from my mother’s, clutching a bunch of sweet smelling freesias that she’d picked from the garden, and a basket containing onions, lettuce, a few tomatoes and several radishes.
‘I’m going to make a salad!’ she declared. ‘And these are for you, Angela!’
‘Well, that’s very kind of y
ou,’ I said, taking the flowers from her and smiling to myself as I glanced at the buckets of freesias I had in the shop.
‘And I’ve got something for you!’
‘What?’
‘Good news.’
‘What? Go on, Angela, tell me!’
‘Lorraine has had the baby. A little boy!’
‘Oh my God! That is amazing! What’s his name?’
‘I don’t know, but you can find out on Friday. She says you can visit at lunchtime.’
‘Wooooooh!’ Vicky shouted, punching her fist in the air. ‘That’s just so awesome! I’ll have to get Lorraine some flowers from your mum’s.’
‘I could make you up a nice bunch, if you like?’
‘Nah! You might charge me! Ha ha! This is the best news!’
When Friday came Vicky was adamant that she wanted to catch the bus to her sister’s flat and didn’t want a lift. I was fine with this, as Vicky had told me where Lorraine lived and it wasn’t far away. Normally, within seventy-two hours of a placement starting there should be a meeting at which you are given background information and contact details of appropriate relatives, and instructions on who to ring in case of emergency. I had none of that with Vicky: Tricia was my only port of call and I think this had slipped her mind, but thankfully Vicky had willingly volunteered Lorraine’s address without me having to ask.
‘I’ll be fine on the bus!’ Vicky said as she set off. ‘Don’t worry about me! I’m going to meet my new nephew! Woohoo!’
Vicky looked really well. She inevitably had the purple tracksuit on, and she’d washed her hair and tied it in a neat ponytail. My mother had helped her pick a small, mixed bunch of purple and white flowers from her garden, and she’d helped Vicky wrap the stems in foil to make a neat bouquet.
‘Have a wonderful time, love!’ I said as I waved her off. ‘Enjoy the visit!’
Vicky returned about an hour and a half later and was grinning from ear to ear and couldn’t stop talking about baby James.
‘Oh Angela!’ she said. ‘He’s absolutely gorgeous! He’s the most beautiful little thing I’ve ever seen in my life.’
‘You’ll have to get a photo of him next time. I’d love to see the little chap. James! What a lovely name.’
Michelle was all ears, lapping up every detail.
‘What colour are his eyes?’
‘Blue!’
‘Has he got any hair?’
‘Loads! It’s thick and black like his dad’s and it looks like he needs a haircut already!’
‘Oh he sounds adorable!’ Michelle said. ‘I want a baby!’
‘Well there’s plenty of time for that!’ I remarked, feeling a little alarmed by this statement.
‘I know there is,’ Michelle replied. ‘But I want my babies young. I don’t want to be an old mum.’
‘Not too young, I hope! You need to be able to support yourself before you start having babies.’
‘Yes, I know, but if I couldn’t manage I could always put them in care.’
‘Michelle!’ I said, horrified at what I’d just heard. ‘That’s absolutely not the way to think.’
‘Why not? That’s what my mum did.’
‘Yes but you wouldn’t want to do that, would you?’
‘Well it’s all right, isn’t it? It’s working out OK for me and my mum.’
I was so shocked at Michelle’s attitude I really didn’t know what to say next, and I found myself thinking I was very glad she didn’t have a boyfriend. Even Vicky was looking a bit gobsmacked.
‘I’d like to be married like Lorraine when I have a baby,’ Vicky said. ‘I want everything to be better than I had.’
‘You’ve got the right idea, Vicky.’ I said. ‘Michelle, you should listen to Vicky. And when you are old enough to have a sexual relationship you really must take precautions until you are sure you are ready to have a baby. I’ve heard of two young teenagers recently who are pregnant and it is a very difficult position to be in, let me tell you.’
‘I know who you’re talking about,’ Vicky said, flicking me a very serious look. ‘They’re both in my year at school. I feel really sorry for them both.’
Vicky was not embarrassed to discuss this but Michelle had turned scarlet and changed the subject. ‘When are you going to see little James again?’ she asked Vicky.
‘On Sunday afternoon. I said I’ll go after lunch at Angela’s mum’s. I don’t want to miss that, do I? Thelma’s doing roast beef this week and I’m learning how to make Yorkshire pudding. Can’t wait!’
Our summer caravan holiday to the coast was planned for the following week and I wondered whether the baby’s arrival would dent Vicky’s enthusiasm for going away. I’d briefly mentioned to her that we had the review in early September, and that therefore she would be staying with us at least until then. She didn’t ask me anything at all about the meeting and was far more interested in the fact this meant she was staying put for the time being, and was therefore able to come on holiday with us.
‘I can’t wait to go away again!’ she said. ‘It’ll be great to have a holiday all together, with Michelle included. Did you say it’s a bigger caravan site than last time, Angela?’
‘Yes, it’s huge! There are two outdoor pools, a disco and theatre, a big leisure complex with a fun pool and hot tubs and water rapids.’
‘Oh my God, no way! It’ll be really good. This is turning into the best summer ever!’
As it happened, the fact she would miss out on seeing baby James for a week was not an issue at all, as when Vicky went to visit her sister on the Sunday afternoon as planned, her brother-in-law, Carl, wouldn’t let her into the flat.
‘Whatever’s the matter, sweetheart?’ I asked when Vicky returned home much earlier than expected, looking very upset.
‘Lorraine’s had trouble feeding the baby and she needs peace and quiet. Carl says I’m not allowed to see her or James for a while.’
‘I’m very sorry to hear that, love, but it does happen. Feeding a new baby is not easy and a lot of new mums find it difficult and need some peace and quiet to adjust and get the hang of it. I expect your sister will be as right as rain once we get back from our holiday.’
‘I hope so. I’m just so disappointed! I saved up and bought James a toy and everything. I can’t see why I couldn’t have just gone in for five minutes! What harm would that do?’
I had to admit that it did seem a little extreme not to have let Vicky over the doorstep. The poor girl had taken a bus across town, carrying her present for the baby, and it seemed such a shame. However, I knew not to judge; I did not know enough about Lorraine and Carl’s life, and it would only make matters worse if I were critical of them in any way.
‘At least you’ve met the little chap once,’ I said cheerfully. ‘And you can look forward to seeing him again when we get back from our holiday.’
‘Yes, I suppose. How long does it take to grow teeth?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘I’ve got James a teething ring with a rattle in it.’
‘Oh, I see! Teething goes on for years and years! Don’t worry, he won’t have grown all his teeth while we’re on holiday!’
‘That’s all right then. I’ll give it to him when we get back.’
The holiday proved a great distraction and we all had a wonderful break, going on trips to several local attractions, using the pool and leisure complex and enjoying the campsite entertainment in the evening, which both girls loved.
One day we went into the local town to pick up some food for a barbecue, and Michelle spotted a clothes shop she wanted to go in.
‘Come on, Vicky, let’s have a look in here,’ she said. ‘I’d like to get a new top.’
Social Services had given me an additional allowance as I was taking the girls on holiday, and I had told them both that they could have some extra spending money to buy new clothes if they wanted to. This had been music to Michelle’s ears, but Vicky had predictably baulked at the prospect of cloth
es shopping, claiming she was fine in the few well-worn items she owned that she somehow made do with.
‘Well you might be fine but I’m not,’ I joked, trying to chivvy Vicky along. ‘At home I can wash your clothes and have them back in your wardrobe – or even your laundry bin – the same day.’
‘Very funny, Angela,’ Vicky snorted sarcastically, acknowledging my dig at the way she’d put ironed clothes straight back in the wash.
‘I can’t do the washing that quickly in a caravan though, can I?’ I replied. ‘And I don’t think you’ve got enough clothes to last you a whole week!’
‘I’ll just try to keep them clean,’ she said, giving me a cheeky grin. ‘Or I’ll wash them myself, in the sea!’
‘You can’t do that!’ Michelle said, not realising Vicky was only joking. ‘Come on, you’re coming with me!’
With that Michelle linked arms with Vicky and led her into the clothes shop, with me following behind. Just like in C&A back home, Vicky looked extremely uncomfortable and started to protest that this wasn’t her sort of shop.
‘What about these?’ Michelle said, picking a pair of black jeans in Vicky’s size off a rail. ‘I think you’d like these. They’re nicer than your other jeans. Try them on!’
Michelle chose several tops for herself and then Vicky very reluctantly followed her into the changing rooms. While Vicky was a captive audience I seized the moment and grabbed a jacket and five or six T-shirts and tops that I thought would also suit her, and I waited outside the cubicle.
‘How are the jeans?’ I called.
‘Er, quite nice actually,’ Vicky replied.
‘Oh good. Can I see?’
Vicky tentatively opened the cubicle door and showed me the jeans, at which point I shoved the other clothes at her and told her to try those too.
‘Awwww! Angela. Do I have to?’
‘Yes! The jeans look great. Leave them on to try on the T-shirts and tops. You’re not coming out until you have!’
In the end we spent almost an hour in the shop, with me passing various different items of clothing through to Vicky in the cubicle. She pulled a face every time I gave her something new, but when she finally emerged she’d agreed to buy the jeans, two tops, a jacket and two T-shirts. Combined with Michelle’s purchases the total bill inevitably exceeded the allowance I’d been given, but I really didn’t mind; I considered it a triumph to have finally got Vicky the clothes she badly needed.
