Terrified

by Angela Hart

  ‘Welcome to our rest-o-rante!’ Vicky announced in an exaggerated Italian accent. ‘Tonight we have a spaghetti bolognese for your delight! With ze garlic bread!’

  It smelled wonderful and tasted even better, and for pudding we were presented with tiramisu.

  ‘Da-dahhh!’ Vicky announced when she placed the delicious-looking desert in the centre of the table.

  Jonathan and I applauded and my mother looked very proud indeed.

  ‘I think Vicky’s going to be an excellent little cook,’ Mum said.

  ‘Going to be?’ Vicky responded, pretending to be annoyed. ‘I’m already ze greatest chef zis house has ever known!’

  We all started laughing, and there was a wonderful, warm atmosphere as we enjoyed the meal and all cleared up together.

  ‘What’s the best meal you’ve cooked, Jonathan?’ Vicky asked, which made me and my mother chuckle rather uncharitably, as he wasn’t renowned for his culinary skills.

  ‘Ooh, let me see. I can make a mean English breakfast,’ Jonathan said.

  ‘Bacon and eggs! Any idiot can make that!’

  ‘Less of your lip, Vicky!’ he retorted. ‘I can do a lovely jacket potato with beans and cheese if I put my mind to it too. That’s if the microwave hasn’t been blown up by one of my trainee chefs, of course . . .’

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve brought that up again!’ Vicky said, rolling her eyes dramatically. ‘That’s just a rubbish thing to do!’

  ‘Rubbish!’ Jonathan said. ‘Did somebody say rubbish? Oh yes, there it is! I’ll just go and put that in the bin outside.’

  With that he picked up a squealing Vicky and jokingly carried her outside, dumping her on top of the dustbin in the passageway running up the side of our house.

  ‘No don’t throw me out!’ she said, enjoying the game. ‘I promise I’ll stop being lippy!’

  ‘It’s too late for that!’ Jonathan said. ‘I’ve done it now! Now stay there and don’t come back, d’you hear!’

  We’d had some good news from Hayley this week too, which no doubt added to the upbeat mood in the house. Another social worker had made the initial visit to Vicky’s father to prepare the ground, and we now had a confirmed date in the diary for February, when were all invited for lunch with Vincent, Carol and Matty. Vincent said Lorraine was very welcome too, and she had jumped at the chance to come with us.

  Vicky’s relationship with her sister appeared to have improved no end since their mother’s death. Lorraine seemed quite happy for Vicky to pop in unannounced on her way home from school, and Lorraine would typically give me a quick ring to tell me Vicky was there, always sounding chirpy and pleased to see her sister. In hindsight, I wonder if Lorraine had suffered from post-natal depression following James’ birth. Nobody ever said as much, though in those days the condition was nowhere near as widely recognised as it is today. Whatever the truth, Lorraine seemed to be in a much better place than she had been, and it was really good to hear her sounding so well.

  ‘How do you feel about seeing your dad, now we have an actual date?’ I asked Vicky when the subject came up one evening.

  ‘I don’t know really. When I first heard about it I was so excited, but now I’m a bit nervous. What if it doesn’t work out? What if I don’t like him, or he doesn’t like me? I keep thinking all these things, I can’t help it.’

  ‘That’s perfectly normal. It’s going to be a big day in your life.’

  ‘I know. I’m so glad you’re going to be there, and Lorraine. I couldn’t do it on my own, I’d be terrified! Well, not terrified, but really nervous.’

  Vincent had suggested that if Vicky felt comfortable enough after we’d all spent the afternoon together she was welcome to stay for the week, as we were visiting at the start of half-term. Vicky was keen on this idea to begin with, but as time went on and the reality of it sunk in she started to worry about being so far from home, on her own.

  ‘Look, Vicky,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s up to you. You must do what you feel comfortable with, and you don’t have to make any decision until you get there.’

  To be honest, as February drew closer, I was starting to feel incredibly nervous myself. I’d been so focused on offering Vicky support that I hadn’t taken stock of my own thoughts and feelings for a while, but in a quiet spell in the shop one afternoon I had the chance to mull things over. I was concerned for Vicky’s emotional wellbeing first and foremost, of course. I could not begin to imagine what it would be like to meet your father for the first time at the age of fourteen, and I sincerely hoped it would be a positive experience for her, both on the day of the reunion and in the long term. If things went well and Vicky did end up living with Vincent, would this be the best outcome for her?

  I thought about the effect all this might have on Lorraine too. It had been established by now that she was not in a position to take her sister back in. Her flat was too small and she was still on some medication to help keep her depression at bay. Vicky had accepted this at the last review meeting, which Lorraine attended, and there were no hard feelings at all. In fact, Vicky had told the meeting she now wanted to stay with us, believing it was in everybody’s best interests. Nevertheless, Lorraine clearly wouldn’t want her sister to move halfway across the country, and I didn’t want her to suffer any kind of relapse with her depression or mental state. The sisters had lost their mother so recently. They needed each other, and though Lorraine appeared to have made an excellent recovery in recent months and was looking so much healthier, having also put on some weight, she clearly had her issues and was an emotionally vulnerable person.

  As for myself, I couldn’t imagine not having Vicky around, even for a week, and I would miss her terribly. She had been with us for more than six months now and was very much a part of the family. Losing her full time was unthinkable, especially on top of Michelle’s departure.

  Despite only being passed for two placements, Hayley had asked me and Jonathan to take in a couple of very young children on a short-term placement after Michelle left. It was not unusual for the rules to be bent a little like this, if Social Services had nowhere else to place the children. Had we accepted to take both youngsters in at the same time, Hayley would have needed to go back to the panel that passed us for fostering to request an extension to our placement limit, but in the event this was not necessary. We were relieved that the breakdown of Michelle’s placement had not put Social Services off using us as carers, but Jonathan and I had decided that with everything that had been going on in our lives it would not be wise for us to take too much on.

  Now, though, I knew in my heart that the very first thing I would want to do if Vicky moved to her dad’s permanently would be to pick up the phone to Hayley and tell her I was prepared to take on another child or two. Whether Jonathan would be in agreement I really didn’t know, but that was what I dearly wanted to do, if it came to it.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts!’ Jonathan said all of a sudden, placing a mug of steaming tea down in front of me.

  ‘Oh! The joys of being a foster carer!’ I said, taken unawares.

  ‘What are they?’ he grinned sarcastically.

  ‘Very funny!’ I smiled. ‘Joking apart, never knowing how long the kids are going to stay is the worst thing in the world, isn’t it? I know we’ve said it before, but it doesn’t get any easier, does it? That’s what I was thinking about. It’s so tough!’

  ‘You’re telling me,’ Jonathan said. ‘What will be will be, Angela. We can’t control the future but we’ll cope. We always do.’

  ‘I know you’re right. And I know I’ve said it before, but it’s tougher for Vicky than us. That’s what we need to focus on.’

  Just before closing time things very unexpectedly got a little tougher, when one of my friends popped into the shop, looking rather reticent.

  ‘I know you’ve had a lot on your plate, Angela,’ she started. ‘But I had to tell you this. I hope you don’t mind.’
>
  ‘What?’ I said, thinking to myself that this felt like déjà vu and Vicky must have been up to some of her old tricks again, making a nuisance of herself in the town.

  ‘I’m afraid there’s a rumour going round that Vicky has been hanging around with all kinds of boys, and Jonathan has gone mad and hit her, and thrown her out the house.’

  ‘Pardon?’ I said, stunned. ‘Where on earth has this come from?’

  ‘It’s like this. You know my next door neighbour is good friends with the couple next door to you?’

  ‘No. Which couple? Our neighbour is an old lady, living on her own.’

  ‘No, not Mrs Dodds! The ones on the other side, across the passageway.’

  ‘I don’t even know them!’

  ‘Well, they claim they saw Jonathan threatening Vicky and throwing her out of the house, telling her not to bother coming back.’

  ‘You are joking?’ I said, suddenly realising what they’d witnessed.

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘Well Jonathan was,’ I replied.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘He was joking. Honestly, this is just ridiculous!’

  I explained the whole charade about Vicky being thrown into the rubbish, which I must admit really didn’t sound anything like as funny as it had been on the evening of our Italian meal.

  My friend sympathised and apologised for being the bearer of bad news.

  ‘Don’t worry. I appreciate it. I will have to phone Social Services. Thanks for letting me know.’

  I reported the whole story to Hayley as soon as I possibly could. She logged the incident after my initial call, and had had a brief word with Vicky about it. That was the end of the matter as far as they were concerned. Afterwards, I discussed it with Vicky.

  ‘I just don’t believe it!’ Vicky said. ‘How many times was I out in the cold with hardly any clothes on, getting knocked around, for years and years, and nobody did anything? When Jonathan is just joking around with me, all this happens.

  It’s so stupid!’

  ‘Knocked around?’

  ‘Oh God! Never mind!’

  ‘But I do mind! Vicky, please talk to me about what happened to you. It might help.’

  ‘It won’t! I don’t want to talk about it or think about it or ANYTHING!’

  Of course, now I had to phone Hayley back and pass on Vicky’s remark that she’d been ‘knocked around for years and years’.

  ‘I see,’ Hayley said quietly. ‘She was clearly at risk. It seems unbelievable that we have no file, no records.’

  ‘I agree,’ I said. ‘Tricia thought it was just human error, that Vicky’s file got lost or mislaid. It’s such a shame because it feels like there are so many pieces of the puzzle missing. I don’t for one second doubt a word Vicky has said, by the way.’

  ‘No. Me neither. You’ve done the right thing in not pushing her though, Angela. We will just have to hope she will talk to you again when she feels up to it. Would you say she’s opened up a bit more since her mother died?’

  It was a good question, and I wasn’t immediately sure of the answer. I thought on my feet though; I was pleased Hayley was taking the time to ask about Vicky’s emotional state and I didn’t want to waste the opportunity to chat further.

  ‘Well, I think the way she talks about it has changed, though she’s still not giving much away,’ I found myself responding.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘There’s less fear, I think. I can see it still frightens her to think about the past, but she knows she’s not going back there, to her mother’s, so I think the terror she used to feel has subsided a little.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ Hayley said. ‘Poor Vicky. It’s dreadful to think of her being terrified. Anyway, at least we’ve made good progress with her father.’

  ‘Absolutely. By the way, has he shed any more light on the past at all?’

  ‘The notes I’ve had from the social worker who visited him don’t tell us anything we don’t already know about Vicky’s history, though I’m sure you will find out more when you visit. I hope so.’

  ‘So do I, though perhaps we’re being optimistic. Vicky was very young indeed the last time Vincent saw her. Still, at least we’ve found him and the meeting is imminent. Let’s hope it goes well.’

  The week before we were due to visit Vicky’s father, Jonathan and I were asked if we could take in a five-year-old boy for respite care, just for a few days while his mother was having a minor operation. It had been almost a year since we’d accepted a child on a very short-term placement like this – though of course that was what we thought we might have been doing with Vicky – but Jonathan and I both agreed it was something we could now manage, and wanted to do. We also hoped it might be a good distraction for Vicky in the run-up to meeting her dad.

  ‘Guess what? We’ve got a little boy called Steven coming to stay with us for a few days,’ I told Vicky. ‘He’s only five.’

  ‘Really!’ she smiled, but then her face fell. ‘What’s happened to his mum? She’s not dead, is she?’

  ‘No, love. She’s having an operation and there’s nobody else who can look after him.’

  ‘Ah! Bless him. I’ll help.’

  The curly haired little boy arrived very early in the morning, as his mum needed to be at the hospital at the crack of dawn. Hayley carried Steven into the house, still in his Batman pyjamas, and he appeared to be half asleep as I greeted him and invited Hayley to bring him into the kitchen.

  ‘Have you had any breakfast, Steven?’ I asked.

  He scowled at me through squinting blue eyes from beneath his fringe of ginger curls, and didn’t reply.

  ‘I’m going to have a bowl of cornflakes. Would you like some?’

  ‘I want Mummy!’ he muttered. ‘Mummy!’

  ‘Well, Mummy has to be away for a few days,’ I said. ‘Isn’t that right, Hayley?’

  The placement had been rather hastily arranged on the phone and I had been given scant details. I wasn’t sure if it had been explained to Steven that his mum was in hospital, and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

  ‘Yes, that’s right!’ Hayley chimed. ‘Steven’s mummy has been feeling poorly, so she is going to be looked after by the kind doctors and nurses in hospital, who will make her feel better. Here’s the paperwork and Steven’s school and contact information, Angela. I’ll be off then!’

  I left Steven sitting at the kitchen table, kicking his legs and looking thoroughly miserable as I saw Hayley to the door.

  ‘It’s a routine operation,’ the social worker said quietly before she left. ‘All being well Mum will only be in overnight, but she’ll need a couple of days’ rest at home. If there are no complications Steven will go home on Friday, after school.’

  ‘Right, that’s good. Anything else I need to know?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. You’ve got the address of his school and all his uniform is packed. Best of luck.’

  When I returned to the kitchen Vicky had appeared, wearing her toucan pyjamas, and she was crouched down in front of Steven.

  ‘Do you know what this bird is called?’ she was asking him.

  Steven had stopped scowling and was looking intently at the colourful toucan on Vicky’s pyjama top.

  ‘Parrot!’ he said, looking very pleased with his answer.

  ‘No, nearly! Try again.’

  ‘Birdie!’ he then beamed jubilantly.

  ‘Good try but that’s not a type of bird, silly! Shall I tell you?’

  Steven nodded and gave Vicky a beautiful wide smile.

  ‘It’s a toucan! Can you say that?’

  ‘Too-can, too-can, too-can,’ Steven repeated.

  ‘Very good, Steven! You’re clever, aren’t you?’

  He smiled proudly.

  ‘Looks like you two have already met then!’ I said. ‘That’s good. Well then, Steven. I’m having my cornflakes now. Did you decide if you’d like some?’

  He looked at me suspiciously, then a
t Vicky.

  ‘I’m having some!’ she said.

  ‘Me too!’ he said excitedly.

  ‘You can-too but toucan can’t,’ Vicky replied, quick as a flash.

  I couldn’t help laughing, and I was impressed by Vicky’s wit.

  ‘Goodness me, Vicky, you’re a natural!’

  ‘Well, some of us have it and some of us don’t,’ she shrugged cheekily.

  I asked Vicky if she wanted a lift to school that day, as I thought it would help Steven if she came in the car with us.

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Will you be picking us up too?’

  ‘Well, if you like. Steven finishes twenty minutes before you so that should work out fine.’

  ‘Result!’ she said, rubbing her hands together gleefully.

  I had a bit of a struggle getting Steven into his school uniform and shoes, because when Vicky disappeared into the shower he became all grumpy again.

  ‘Want Mummy!’ he repeated.

  ‘I know, love. It won’t be long before you can see Mummy!’

  ‘Want Mummy!’

  ‘Oh I do like your lovely red jumper! What’s the name of your class? I heard all the classes are named after different animals in your school.’

  ‘Want Mummy!’

  When Vicky reappeared on the landing he instantly cheered up and she distracted and entertained him brilliantly.

  ‘I hope you’re not one of those people who snores, Steven!’ she said. ‘Because my room is right there and I will be able to hear you, and I don’t like snoring!’

  With that she started oinking like a pig, and Steven copied her, giggling his head off as he did so. The two of them got louder and louder, making each other laugh. It was heart-warming to see.

  Clearing out Michelle’s old room had been a horrible job. I had placed the photographs and other items she left behind in storage boxes, and I’d left them in the room for a long while, not really knowing what to do with them, but Steven’s stay prompted me to move them into the loft and give the room a good airing and dusting. I had no idea if I would ever see or hear from Michelle again, but I couldn’t have thrown her things away; it would have been too final and too upsetting. Now her old room was being put to very good use, and it finally felt like we had moved on, in a positive way.