Terrified

by Angela Hart

  ‘Thanks, Angela!’ she called. ‘You’re a diamond!’

  ‘All right, love. Have a good time!’

  The next morning everybody was up early. Jonathan was manning the shop, Vicky was coming with me on my deliveries and Michelle was going to spend the weekend with her dad. She could barely look me in the eye when we met in the kitchen.

  ‘Morning, Michelle!’ I said brightly. I wanted her to know I was not holding a grudge, although clearly the matter of her lies and allegations was far from resolved.

  ‘Morning,’ she just about muttered as she helped herself to a glass of milk, drank it down quickly and then headed back upstairs.

  ‘What time are you back tomorrow, love?’ I called after her.

  ‘Dunno.’

  ‘Will you let me know? We’ll be at my mum’s for Sunday lunch. I expect you won’t be back for that?’

  There was no reply, and so I finished my breakfast and went to work, taking Vicky with me and leaving a note for Michelle on the kitchen worktop.

  ‘Michelle,’ I wrote hastily. ‘Please ring me when you get to your dad’s and let me know what time you are home tomorrow. If you need a lift back, no problem. Remember it’s a school night so home for 9.30 p.m. at the latest please. I hope you have a good time, Angela xxx’

  Vicky was in a bubbly mood as she helped me make the deliveries that morning. Her birthday was coming up soon, and I asked her if there was anything she particularly wanted, or something special she might like to do.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’ve never had a birthday present or a party. I’ll be happy with anything, really!’

  As she spoke I was holding a huge bouquet of pink and white flowers that had been ordered for an eighteenth birthday party. On the tag it said: ‘To our wonderful daughter. We are very proud of you and hope you enjoy your special day. Lots of love, Mum and Dad xx’. I’d written the message out myself after taking the order over the phone, and as I did so I’d thought how lucky the teenager was who would be in receipt of such a lovely gift. Now that feeling overwhelmed me, and I was heartbroken that Vicky had never received a single present, let alone one as beautiful and heartfelt as this.

  ‘We’ll have to put that right!’ I smiled. ‘Have a think if there is anything you might like, perhaps a piece of jewellery or something to keep? And what about going out for a meal?’

  ‘I’d love that!’ she said. ‘That would be great! Can we go to that new pizza place?’

  ‘Why not! I’ll break my diet especially for the occasion.’

  ‘What, again?!’

  ‘Cheeky!’

  The mention of dieting turned my mind to the holiday. I had to accept that whatever happened next with Michelle, Maureen had finally scuppered our chances of taking her daughter to Disney World. It had dawned on me that we might be able to change the name on the booking and take Vicky instead of Michelle, but I kept my thoughts to myself at this stage, resolving to discuss this with Hayley when the time was right. The holiday was still six months off, and I supposed we’d have to wait and see what happened next in the search for Vicky’s father before we made any plans that far into the future.

  Michelle did not phone as I’d asked her to, but she was in her bedroom on Sunday afternoon when Jonathan, Vicky and I returned from lunch at my mother’s house.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea, love?’ I called through Michelle’s door. ‘I’m just putting the kettle on.’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘No, I’m just getting changed.’

  ‘All right. Are you sure you’re OK?’

  ‘What?’

  I heard her music go on and decided to leave her to it for a while, but when I went back upstairs later she was equally monosyllabic.

  ‘Michelle, love, are you feeling all right?’ I called.

  ‘Yes, just tired,’ she said. ‘I’m going to have an early night.’

  ‘All right, can I come in to say goodnight?’

  ‘Oh God! Do you have to?’

  ‘I’d like to. I haven’t seen you for two days.’

  ‘All right then.’

  Her light was off and I tripped over a bag in the middle of the floor as I crossed the room.

  ‘Sleep well, love. I’ll see you in the morning. Night night.’

  ‘Night,’ she said half-heartedly.

  In hindsight I can see that Michelle knew something I didn’t, but at the time I didn’t suspect a thing. On Monday morning, Michelle told Vicky she was walking to school and not taking the bus as she usually did.

  ‘That’s a turnaround,’ I said when I caught her heading out the door much earlier than usual. ‘I thought you didn’t like walking to school.’

  ‘I’m entitled to change my mind,’ Michelle replied rudely before slamming out of the front door with a scowl on her face.

  I was glad to be at work that day. There were lots of orders to make up, and I always found it quite therapeutic to arrange bouquets and create fancy bows and trimmings with my floristry ribbons. I liked chatting to customers too, and I found it a pleasure helping them to select the right blooms for whatever occasion they had in mind.

  When there were no customers in the shop there was always a wonderful calmness in the air, and I’d often take a deep breath, appreciate the wonderful scents of the flowers and count my blessings while I had a little bit of peace and quiet. Taking over the shop had proved to be a great move for me and Jonathan. We worked extremely well together, and fostering had fitted into our lifestyle as we’d hoped it would. Of course, it was stressful dealing with teenage strops and finding ourselves embroiled in the complications we had on our plate right now, but we could manage it, and we were well aware that our lives were very easy compared to so many others.

  Very sadly, our young nephew had received more bad news, and we had learned that Aiden’s chances of recovering from leukaemia had declined rapidly, to less than twenty per cent. It was unbelievably tragic, and whenever I felt any sort of discontentment with my lot in life I reminded myself how very fortunate I was to have my health. I was also lucky to have a strong and supportive husband, a good business and the means to follow my heart and work as a foster carer. We could not cure my nephew, but Jonathan and I could be there for him and his family, and at least we could help other children, if not him.

  I don’t know how long I’d been lost in my thoughts, but when the shop’s bell rang out very loudly, late on that Monday morning, I nearly jumped out of my skin. It gave the emergency clatter it had done on the day Vicky had barged through the shop in a bad temper. When I looked up at the person standing before me I was even more alarmed.

  ‘Hayley!’ I said, immediately thinking about her hay fever and aversion to coming into the shop. ‘Whatever is it?’

  She looked very flustered indeed.

  ‘I’ve got some bad news I’m afraid, Angela.’

  ‘Vicky’s father?’ I instinctively said. ‘Is he . . . not alive?’

  ‘It’s not that. It’s Vicky’s mum.’

  ‘What about her?’ I stammered, feeling a shockwave pass through me.

  ‘She’s dead, Angela. Vicky’s mum died yesterday.’

  11

  ‘It’s too much to take’

  On Hayley’s advice, I decided to wait until Vicky got home from school before telling her about her mum’s death. I was in full agreement that it would be better for her to hear it at home, rather than in the school environment, and Hayley gave me some advice on how to handle it, as she had to travel to a social-worker conference that afternoon and so couldn’t come over to help.

  ‘Just stick to the few facts we know, and don’t be drawn in to any speculation or attempt to answer questions you aren’t sure of the answer to,’ Hayley said. ‘Make sure Vicky’s sitting down and tell her you are there to support her, and that you will do everything you can to help her deal with it. As for her father, let’s leave that until another day.’

  It turned out that
just a few days before Brenda’s death, Hayley had discovered Vicky’s father was alive and living in the UK, albeit many miles away from us. The Army had an address for him, and Hayley was planning to write an initial letter to Vincent to ask if he was happy to make contact with Vicky.

  ‘In the circumstances, I think it’s best to wait for his response until informing Vicky that he is alive,’ Hayley said. ‘Let’s deal with her mother’s death first.’

  It was nearly 5 p.m. when Vicky returned home, as she had netball practice after school. Michelle wasn’t home yet either as she also had an after-school club on Mondays this term, but I expected her back shortly.

  ‘I’m starving!’ Vicky declared when she walked in the shop. ‘What’s for tea?’

  ‘Oh, hi, love. Er, chops. Listen, I need to talk to you. I’ll come through to the house with you now.’

  Vicky looked at me suspiciously as I turned the shop sign to display ‘closed’ and led her up to the lounge; my thinking was that when Michelle returned and found the shop shut she would walk straight into the kitchen, so it was better if Vicky and I went upstairs, where we could talk in private.

  ‘What is it?’ Vicky asked, sounding agitated. ‘Please don’t tell me they’ve made a mistake and I have to go back to her!’

  ‘No, Vicky, it’s not that,’ I said as we entered the lounge. ‘Sit yourself down on the settee, and I’ll tell you, love.’

  Vicky obliged, though worry was now filling her face and I wanted to get on with this as quickly as possible.

  ‘There is no easy way of saying this, but I’m afraid . . .’

  ‘Is Lorraine all right?’ she interrupted. ‘Oh my God has she done it again?’

  ‘It’s not Lorraine, she’s fine. It’s your mum, Vicky. I’m very sorry to tell you this, but she passed away, last night.’

  ‘Passed away? You mean died? My mum’s . . . dead?’

  Vicky’s mouth fell open and then she immediately froze, a look of sheer terror etched on her face. For a split second I thought she was going to say something else as she appeared to move her lips ever so slightly, but no sound came out. Then her whole face turned a chalky white, as if she were numb with shock. From past experience I knew that this was Vicky’s standard response when she was very upset or frightened. I also knew it would pass, and so I didn’t panic as I had done the first time she’d reacted this way; I just kept talking. Taking hold of her right hand, which felt cold and stiff, I began to tell Vicky the few scant details we knew, as Hayley had advised me to do.

  ‘We don’t yet know how your mum died, love,’ I said. ‘Alf, her friend next door, found her, in the house, last night.’

  When I mentioned Alf’s name Vicky started to breathe more rapidly, though her face remained inanimate and only her chest moved, very quickly, in time with her breathing.

  ‘It’s all right, love, just try to slow down and take some long, deep breaths.’

  For a second or two Vicky appeared to hold her breath. Her eyes were fixed in a faraway stare, but thankfully she did eventually start to breathe normally again. Her face and body stayed rigid and lifeless though, apart from the now tiny movement of her lungs in her chest.

  ‘We’ll know more later in the week, hopefully. Lorraine has been told, and Carl is looking after her and the baby at the flat.’

  Vicky didn’t respond in any way at all.

  ‘Would you like to see Lorraine?’

  Again there was no response at all; not even a flicker or the slightest sign that Vicky was even aware I had spoken.

  I sat quietly beside her for five or maybe ten minutes, simply holding her hand, saying soothing words and offering her support and kindness.

  ‘I’m here for you, Vicky,’ I said softly. ‘If there is anything I can do to help, just say. I’ll help you through this as best I can, you know that, love, don’t you? Jonathan and I will look after you. I’m very sorry, love. It must be such an awful shock.’

  As we sat in silence together I heard the shop’s van pull up outside the house. Jonathan had been out for most of the day, seeing our accountant and visiting suppliers. I’d managed to tell him the news when he phoned me in the afternoon, and he had naturally been very shocked and concerned about how Vicky would take it. Minutes after the van’s engine cut out I heard voices downstairs; Michelle must be home too, I thought. I didn’t want to leave Vicky alone and I knew I could rely on Jonathan to say the right things to Michelle, so I stayed in the lounge, holding Vicky’s hand. I expected Jonathan to appear at any moment, but another ten or fifteen minutes passed. I heard Michelle clatter up and down the stairs once, twice and then three times, and after that I heard another vehicle pull up outside. I rubbed the back of Vicky’s hand with my free hand, telling her I was just going to let go of her for a minute.

  ‘I just want to look out the window,’ I said. ‘I want to see who’s outside.’

  For a moment I wondered if Lorraine or her husband had turned up. I wasn’t expecting anybody else to call at the house so I was curious to see who was there, but Vicky suddenly clutched at my hand really tightly, as if she were afraid to let me go.

  ‘It’s all right, sweetheart,’ I said, responding by giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘I don’t need to move. I’m not going anywhere.’

  Vicky’s grasp relaxed slightly when I said this, but she continued to look scared, and her lips were now very pale and set in an oval shape, as if she were halfway through giving a gasp. Time seemed to stand still as I sat there, listening and waiting, wondering what on earth was going on downstairs. Finally, a full half hour after he had returned home, Jonathan appeared at the lounge door, looking extremely agitated and upset.

  ‘How are you, Vicky?’ he asked, crossing the room and crouching down in front of her, so he could look up into her downcast face. She didn’t blink or move or speak, and Jonathan looked at me.

  ‘She’s very shocked, of course. I’ve told her we’re here for her. She needs to just take her time.’

  ‘I’m very sorry to hear about your mum,’ Jonathan said, trying to catch Vicky’s gaze once more. ‘It’s very sad news. It must be a terrible shock, I really am very, very sorry.’

  Vicky didn’t react in any way whatsoever. Next, Jonathan inhaled and scratched the back of his head, as he has a habit of doing when he is gearing up to say something he’d rather not have to.

  ‘Er, Angela,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I’m afraid I need to just borrow you for a moment. Do you think I can have a word, in private?’

  I looked at Vicky.

  ‘I can’t really leave her,’ I said anxiously.

  ‘Angela, it’s very important. Please?’

  ‘Vicky, love,’ I said. ‘Will you be all right for just a minute? I’ll just pop outside the room. I’ll not be far away, I promise. I’ll be right back.’

  This time Vicky let me take my hand from hers and gave the faintest nod of the head, and Jonathan and I slipped outside. I knew he had something very serious to tell me, because Jonathan would not have taken me away from Vicky in such circumstances unless he really needed to.

  ‘What is it?’ I whispered, my stomach turning over.

  ‘Michelle,’ he said quietly. His voice started to falter as he continued. ‘She’s left, Angela. She wasn’t even going to tell us, but I saw her.’

  ‘Left? What do you mean? Where has she gone?’

  ‘Her mother’s.’

  ‘Maureen’s?’

  ‘Yes, Maureen’s. She’s moved back in with her.’

  ‘But her mother hasn’t wanted her for years and years! Oh my God, what’s changed? What’s happened? I don’t like the sound of this at all.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jonathan said. He was choking back tears now. ‘I just don’t know, Angela. I can’t get over the fact she was just going to disappear. Maureen’s boyfriend collected her; Michelle had all her bags packed, ready to go. She’s left her key.’

  I shook my head in disbelief and Jonathan and I locked eyes for a moment
, sharing a look of incredulity.

  ‘Does Hayley know?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s all happened so fast. I think Michelle was hoping to do a bunk while we were still in the shop. Look, you go back to Vicky. I’ll phone the out-of-hours emergency number.’

  Vicky didn’t appear to have moved a muscle while I was out of the room. She was sitting upright on the edge of the settee and looked extremely tense and uncomfortable, so I suggested she should sit back a little. Vicky just stared at the carpet, but thankfully she did allow me to guide her backwards on the settee so she could at least support her rigid spine on the cushions. I sat back too, feelings of exhaustion and anger and sorrow enveloping me as the settee took my weight. My nerves felt pulled like elastic bands, ready to snap all around my body. Vicky’s mother was dead, her father was alive and Michelle had gone back to Maureen. I just could not take it in. And how on earth had all this come crashing in on the same day? It felt like I was in some kind of badly staged tragedy, because the events felt so unreal and unexpected.

  As Vicky and I sat in silence once again, my mind wandered back over the last few days, and my head started to ache. I thought about how Michelle had behaved, and what she had said a while back about the holiday, replaying her words in my head several times.

  ‘I’d be worried if my child was going to the other side of the world with people I hardly knew.’

  That was what Michelle had said, but the more I repeated the words the more I was certain they must have originated from her mother. Michelle knew us very well indeed. She’d lived with us for more than two years. By contrast, she had not lived with her mother since she was ten years old, when she was placed in the children’s home. Michelle would turn fifteen in February next year, which meant Maureen had not had her daughter at home for the best part of five years. During her time with us Michelle had always been on a voluntary care order, so this was Maureen’s choice. I understood she’d had a tough battle with her drug addiction, but in the past year or so her problems had been largely resolved and they didn’t prohibit her from taking Michelle back. In my opinion she had left her daughter in care because it suited her.