by Casey Watson
I went up quietly, suspecting that both mother and baby might be sleeping, but when I reached the top of the stairs I could hear a low sound. I hovered on the landing then, to catch what the noise was, and it was Emma. She was speaking and crying – I could tell because her voice had that unmistakable gulping quality. And what she was saying broke my heart.
‘I wish,’ she was whispering, ‘I was a proper mummy, baby. I wish I was a proper mummy and that your daddy wasn’t in jail. I wish I had a proper job like proper mummies do, friends who had babies so you had little friends to play with as well. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want us to be alone.’ I could hear her soothing him, going ‘shhh, baby, shhh go to sleep now’. Then she spoke again, and this time it was almost inaudible. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m useless, and I don’t know what to do.’
So I would have to. I tiptoed back downstairs again.
Chapter 6
Kieron, my son, had recently qualified as a teaching assistant at our local primary school. He and his girlfriend, Lauren, had moved out of her parents’ house and were now living in a small, rented flat, not far from our house. Whilst Lauren still had two jobs – splitting her time between working at a beauty salon and teaching dance to children – Kieron was now enjoying working full time in his new job in the learning support department.
I remembered him telling me only a few days ago about a mother and toddler group that one of his co-workers had set up in a local church. After hearing the sadness in Emma’s voice as she had spoken to her baby, I decided I’d make some enquiries on her behalf. Mixing with other new mums might be just what she needed.
I was well aware that Emma was dreadfully lonely, and I knew that she regularly wrote to her boyfriend, Tarim. Almost every day she went out to post letters using stamps and stationery bought with money out of her allowance that was actually meant for Roman. This was another thing I had neglected to inform Hannah about. Emma received benefits to help her pay for baby formula, nappies and baby clothes, etc., but inevitably each Monday – she referred to this as ‘pay day’ – she would return from shopping with a new CD or magazine or a top for herself. I also had a suspicion that she was sending money in her letters to Tarim. I was determined, however, that she realise the importance of showing social services that she had her priorities right and I decided that I’d start accompanying her on her shopping days.
‘Here,’ I had said to her, just a few days earlier. I’d passed her a baby blue, padded jacket. ‘Why don’t you buy this for Roman? He’ll look gorgeous in it and Hannah will be pleased to see it, I’m sure.’
I pushed it in front of Emma as she casually browsed through a rail of T-shirts in her size, and she gave it a quick glance.
‘Nah,’ she replied. ‘Auntie Casey can buy it, though, if she wants.’
‘Um, Auntie Casey has bought him quite enough, Emma,’ I said in a huff. ‘Perhaps if you spent less on flipping postage stamps, and more on Roman, you wouldn’t moan so much about how he looked when you dressed him.’ I glanced down at the pram, which I was pushing, and suddenly found myself getting annoyed as Emma just grinned back at me.
‘Actually,’ I said as I angled the pram handles in her direction, ‘here, you take him for a while; I have some errands to run. I’ll meet you back here at 12.30 and we’ll go for some lunch.’
‘Oh, Casey! You know how stressed I get lugging this bloody pram around. Can’t you take him so I get a bit of “me” time?’
I was actually lost for words. I simply snorted and zipped up my coat. ‘I’m off, love. I have things to do. I’ll see you in an hour or so.’ And with that I stomped out of the shop. ‘Me’ time indeed! I’d almost forgotten in such a short time what that felt like!
Now, though, after hearing her sobbing, I felt guilty. I phoned the mother and toddler group and asked for more information. They met twice a week and apparently the Thursday session had lots of very young mothers and babies. It sounded ideal for Emma. I listened as the woman who organised it all, Gemma, told me more. ‘If you come along with her to the first session, you can sit and have a coffee with me while she settles in.’
‘That’s great,’ I said. ‘I’ll have a chat with Emma then, and see if she’s up for it. So you say Thursdays would be better?’
‘Yes,’ Gemma replied and then hesitated before explaining. ‘It seems that by Thursday the girls tend to have no money left, so it’s not completely altruistic of them. They get free milk, juice and snacks for the babies, and also as much tea, coffee and toast, etc., as they’d like for themselves. We also have a toy-borrowing system on a Thursday. The girls can pick up two or three toys to take home, and then return and swap them the following week.’
‘Sounds great. I’ll speak with her then, and hopefully we’ll see you on Thursday.’
Feeling a lot better now that I was armed with good news, I went upstairs to tell Emma all about it. I smiled as I walked into her room. She had Roman laid on a blanket on the floor, and she was kneeling at his side blowing raspberries onto his stomach. Roman was shrieking with laughter each time he saw his mummy lean forward to get him again. Emma was laughing too, so I was pleased she had cheered up. ‘Hey, you two. You look like you’re having fun.’
‘We are. We are, aren’t we, my little man?’ Emma said as she continued with her game. ‘Sorry I was such a narky pants earlier, Casey. I just get a bit tired, that’s all. And I miss Tarim. I really wish he was here with us.’
‘I know, love. I do.’ I wondered then if it was an opportunity to try to get Emma to talk a little about Tarim, but quickly decided against it. Better to approach the situation in hand first, while she was being reasonable. ‘You’ll just have to write him an extra-long letter when you’re feeling lonely. I’m sure he won’t mind you having a rant to him, will he?’
Emma looked up and giggled. ‘I suppose not. And even if he does, it’s not like he can do anything about it, is it? Mind you, if I got him annoyed he’d probably get me back by not phoning me or something. It’s hard for him, Casey, being locked up and not knowing what I’m up to.’
‘Up to?’ I laughed. ‘What, doing feeds and changing nappies?’ I nearly added that he was having it easier than she was, in my opinion. But I didn’t want to joke about him. I had my concerns about this boyfriend of hers. Every time she mentioned him I got the feeling that he must be quite controlling and it made me a little uncomfortable. I would definitely be bringing this up again. But for now I had to persuade her to join a group or two. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so reliant on her boyfriend.
‘Listen, love,’ I said instead, ‘I had an idea. A friend of Kieron’s runs a brilliant young mum and baby group. There’s loads of girls around your age and babies the same age as Roman. I think you’d really enjoy it.’
‘Oh I don’t know, Casey. I’m not really a group person. And girls my age don’t usually like me. They all think I’m out to snag their boyfriends or something,’ Emma said.
‘Don’t be daft. How could they not like you?’ I decided to play it slightly differently. ‘Also, imagine what Hannah would think? She’d be so impressed that you were doing something off your own steam for Roman’s benefit.’
Emma thought for a moment and then stood up. ‘You might be right, Casey. It would be like a slap in her face if I did it, wouldn’t it? She’d have no reason to keep snooping around so much if I got my arse into gear, would she?’
This wasn’t quite what I had in mind, but still, if it got her doing something. ‘Well, she’d still have her usual visits, love, but she would have to record in her notes that you were showing initiative and trying to do something nice for Roman. You never know, you might meet some nice friends too.’
‘Doubt it,’ Emma grimaced as she spoke, ‘and besides, I could never be mates with anyone that Tarim didn’t know. He’s good like that. He can read people like books. He always knows who would be right for me.’
I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from commenting. Maybe this w
as one of those instances where there were many little battles to be won before attempting the war. Maybe I needed to be more canny. Do some manoeuvring where all that was concerned.
‘Right, that’s settled then,’ I said. ‘I’ll let Hannah know, and we’ll go to the first session on Thursday. I’m looking forward to it.’
I was right. Hannah, who called the next day, was super-impressed that Emma had agreed to attend a group, and she told her how well she had been doing recently. After checking the baby over and speaking with Emma for a while, she asked if she could have a quick chat with me before leaving. We went through to the kitchen for a coffee.
‘Just going through my list, Casey,’ Hannah explained as she took a notebook out of her bag. ‘It’s nothing major, but I need to check how she’s doing with Roman. The day-to-day stuff, and emotionally.’
She then went on to ask about Emma’s routines and asked if I thought she was attending to Roman’s needs, etc. In fact everything was fine until she asked, ‘And what about this boyfriend? Has she admitted yet that he’s the father?’
She watched me carefully as I shook my head. ‘No. She talks about him at times, but she hasn’t mentioned him being Roman’s dad.’ I felt slightly uncomfortable discussing this without saying that I thought Tarim was something of a control freak. But to be perfectly honest I didn’t know this for sure. It was only my initial thoughts, and I felt I owed it to Emma not to bad mouth him until I understood more. Still, I wrestled with my motivation for holding back with Hannah. Was it because I wanted to protect Emma, or was it because I needed her to trust me enough to be able to confide in me? As soon as I realised it was the latter, it helped to strengthen my resolve. I needed Emma to see that I was in her corner, and speaking out now might just ruin things in that respect. If I could gain her trust, I could influence her choices in so many ways, and where Tarim was concerned that might be vital.
None of this, of course, was of real concern to Hannah. She was just there to see Roman was in a safe pair of hands. Something Emma still had to prove. So I was pleased to see Hannah closing her notebook for today. ‘Is that it then?’ I asked as she stood up.
‘Yes, that’s it for now. Let me know on Friday how the group meeting went and we’ll take it from there. I will probably start cutting my visits down a little if Emma attends that regularly.’
Emma was delighted to hear that Hannah wouldn’t be visiting so often and it set her mood for the remainder of that day. After she settled Roman down for his nap, I decided to broach the subject of Tarim once again. Mike had decided that he’d nip out to the fish and chip shop for supper and Emma was helping me butter bread and set the table. ‘Oh, I hope he remembers to put the vinegar on at the chip shop, Casey, it tastes loads better than when you do it at home.’
I laughed as I realised that I thought the exact same thing. ‘I know. How strange is that?’ Then as casually as I could muster, ‘Have you given any thought to what you’ll do when Tarim gets released?’
Emma spun round to look at me and asked suspiciously, ‘What do you mean?’
Clearly a way to go with that trust thing, I thought wryly. ‘Well, he’s obviously going to want to see Roman, isn’t he?’ I said. I noticed Emma blush and she averted her eyes. She began to chew nervously on her lip. ‘Look, love. It’s not my business, but I kind of guessed that he’s the dad. I saw your photo at the side of your bed and they do look alike. But like I said, it isn’t my business, and if you don’t want to tell anyone I can understand that. You’ll be scared that they might try to prosecute him, is that what it is?’
Emma nodded. ‘Casey, I won’t admit it to anyone. I really won’t. Fair enough if you’ve guessed. Tarim can’t say I’ve told you, but I’m sticking to my story. None of it is his fault. I knew what I was doing, and no one pushed me into anything.’
‘I understand, love, and I know it’s a sticky situation but, dad or not, if Tarim is to play a part in Roman’s life, then social services will eventually need to know.’
‘I don’t see why!’ Emma said. I could see she was getting worked up. ‘All they need to know is that I can take care of my baby. Anything else is my business.’
‘Right now, Emma, that’s true. All I’m trying to say is that perhaps it would work in your favour if, later on, they can see that you are being open and honest. Don’t worry about it yet though, love. We can cross that bridge when we get to it.’
I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched the words sink in without her getting upset. Drama averted, I busied myself making some hot drinks while Emma went up to check on Roman. I had opened the way up for a discussion but it was clear that she wasn’t yet ready to confide in me with her plans for the future.
I was torn in reality. Part of me knew that Emma operated well knowing that she had Tarim in the background, and that speaking to him regularly and writing was holding them together and keeping her on an even keel. Though I didn’t know her very well, I knew enough to know that it was his influence that kept her indoors with her baby. Other teen mums might have kicked up a fuss about not having time out with friends, but not Emma. She wanted Tarim to know that she was well and truly ‘waiting’ for him. Another part of me hated this. I could see that if Tarim was on the outside, this would be a very controlling relationship, and not a healthy one at all. But what could I do? I told myself that while he was away there was no harm being done, and in fact I was getting the best out of Emma. I just hoped I wouldn’t live to regret my decision to allow it to continue.
Chapter 7
With Roman needing round-the-clock care and Emma being so young and vulnerable, it was perhaps no surprise that the next couple of weeks passed by in something of a baby-talc-scented blur. No surprise either that my focus was very much a tight one; the days revolving mostly around feeds, naps and washing, and the regular assessment visits made by Hannah, as well as trying to keep Emma positive and on track.
‘Have I come to the right house?!’ Riley asked when she came round for coffee the following Thursday. ‘Does a Mrs Casey Watson actually live here?’
She looked around, her expression one of shock and stupefaction. ‘Nope,’ she said, poking her head into the kitchen and through lounge in turn. ‘Nope again. No, I definitely have the wrong house.’
I shook my head while I scooped Jackson up for a cuddle. ‘I have absolutely no idea what your mother is on about,’ I told him.
‘Fairy lights!’ Riley clarified. ‘Decorations! Trees! It’s the first week in December and you don’t yet have a single thing up. This has to be a record, mum. Has to be.’
Apart from visits to the letter-box, this morning was the first time Emma had been out without me since she’d been with us; she’d gone to the mother and baby group on her own, which was an important development. As was the fact that it was also the first time I’d had the house to myself since she’d come to us, too.
‘Very funny,’ I said, following Riley into the kitchen to make the drinks. ‘Actually, your dad and I plan to go tree shopping this weekend. And the decorations are down, just not out. But they will be. You’re right, though,’ I admitted, ‘I am way behind with everything. And haven’t seen nearly enough of you, little man,’ I finished, popping Jackson up on the kitchen counter in front of me. It was an unexpected treat to see him – normally he’d be in nursery. But with two teachers away from work with a tummy bug, they had made the difficult but probably sensible decision to ask those parents in a position to, to keep their little ones off as well. I began undoing his coat buttons, marvelling as ever at how quickly he seemed to be growing. He’d be three soon and, before we knew it, off to school like Levi, something I contemplated with very mixed emotions. On the one hand, it would be nice for Riley – she could then really get her teeth into her fostering – but at the same time, how had the time gone so fast?
‘I’ll get there,’ I said. ‘Well, eventually I will, anyway. It’s incredible how quickly you forget just how time consuming a new baby is.’
‘Two babies, don’t forget,’ Riley pointed out. ‘You’re looking after both of them, Mum. Don’t forget that. How’s Emma getting on anyway? Is she coping any better now?’
‘Definitely. I have every confidence in her,’ I said, and perhaps a touch more forcefully than I intended. I wasn’t speaking to Hannah, after all, was I? Riley knew the score. I sighed then, almost automatically. It didn’t matter if Emma passed muster for Hannah and social services with flying colours. She still had the next bit to get through, didn’t she? And with little in the way of emotional support, bar a dubious-sounding boyfriend, currently in jail. That would be the difficult bit, in comparison. I gave Riley a rueful smile as I put Jackson down and popped his coat over a chair back. ‘Though when you look into their future …,’ I went on, ‘well, all I can see is hurdles. I just hope she’s going to have the wherewithal to climb over them. She’s just so young. And it’s not helped by knowing that the boyfriend’s waiting in the wings, either. I haven’t even clapped eyes on him and I worry about what’s going to happen. It’s not the greatest situation to be born into, is it? To have a convicted drug dealer as a dad.’
Riley nodded. ‘But who knows? It might become the making of him, mightn’t it? Well, once it’s out there that he is the dad, at any rate. Might persuade him to shape up and take responsibility. Do you know when he’s coming out of prison?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Maggie doesn’t know. Just not yet.’
And, I thought, long may that state of affairs continue. I had little to go on, but my hunch was that when that day happened things might just get a whole lot more complicated.
But with the twin preoccupations of Tarim and Christmas, I’d perhaps taken my eye off the ball where Emma’s emotional state was concerned. Up to this point, there was one subject that Emma and I hadn’t discussed: her mother, and the role she’d played in her life. Which was fine – if a child didn’t want to talk about their family background, then so be it. Though we always made it clear we were happy to listen, we were not there to interrogate them or, for that matter, formally counsel them. Our job was to take care of them, full stop. Though, obviously, sometimes prompted by a family photo, or a recollection, a conversation would be sparked and a child would want to talk to us – and in that case, our care of them would naturally include listening to their problems and helping them process how they might deal with them. It also meant being honest about hearing things that were potentially actionable. If a child confided they had been abused, for example, I had to make it clear to them I would need to share what they had told me with people who might be able to help. This didn’t always go down as well as might be imagined. If a child had been sworn to secrecy, for example, by the adult or adults in question, the feeling that they’d told on them could be every bit as distressing for a child as the abuse itself.
