‘Okay, okay, very funny.’ Dan shifts, lifting my other foot closer and pushing his thumb into my sole. The pressure on my tired feet feels amazing. This move has completely exhausted me – God only knows how tired I would be if I’d had to do it all whilst organising a family. I was sick with nerves this morning and I can feel my eyelids drooping even now, and it’s only 8 p.m.
‘Maybe leave it a week or so before you tell them about the colossal brood you intend on producing.’ He says it as though he is joking, but I suddenly get a horrific image of myself in a grubby pinny surrounded by seven or eight filthy babbling children, poking one another in the eye and pinching chubby flesh. I give an involuntary shudder.
‘Are you cold?’ Dan asks, moving to stand up. He beats his chest comically. ‘I could do us a fire?’
‘No, no, I’m fine, thank you. I might just finish this and head on up to bed, if you don’t mind? First day and all that.’
‘No, of course not.’ He reacts immediately to the mention of an early night. ‘Do you want me to come up with you?’
I shake my head a little too quickly. I know Dan’s idea of ‘come up with you’, and it doesn’t involve me resting my eyes. ‘Not tonight, babe. You’ll only be up at the crack of dawn if you go to bed this early. I’ll get some sleep and I’ll be fine tomorrow – back to fighting fit.’
17
Ellie
If she closes her eyes, Ellie can remember the first time she was here, in this very office. Unfamiliar clothes hung from her, reminding her that they didn’t belong on her and that she didn’t belong anywhere. She’d been placed in emergency care following the fire – her nana had flown over from France and was sitting behind that very door there, the one marked Private, even though Ellie, sitting with her back to the glass could hear every word they said: ‘Not the best environment for a child . . . better for her to stay in her own country . . . auntie and uncle . . . three kids already . . .’
Now she is sitting here again, only this time she is not alone. This time she, Billy and Mary sit in perfect silence as they strain to catch even a snippet of the conversation that is taking place behind the glass.
‘Did she just say “feet and alcohol”?’ Ellie asks.
Mary pulls a face. ‘“Feet and alcohol” doesn’t make any sense.’ She scowls and holds up a finger to shush Ellie as the voices start again. ‘I’m sure that was “court case”.’
Ellie pushes herself as close up against the wall as she can without actually climbing through it. She and Billy asked Sarah and Mark countless questions about this meeting, about why they were going to social services, about whether it was to do with Ellie and how long she was staying with them. But they remained silent, shooting each other the occasional smile and saying, ‘You’ll have to wait and see.’ Mary didn’t say a word.
‘Do you three want anything to drink?’ A woman appears from the next office. She is tall and thin, with sharp features but a big smile on her face. She looks like one of those women who tries her best to look friendly but always looks as though she wishes she were somewhere else.
‘I do,’ Billy says rudely.
‘No thank you,’ Ellie replies.
‘Sssshhh,’ Mary hisses, completely ignoring the woman. ‘That was definitely “court case”. And “six months”. Maybe you’re staying another six months, Ellie, or maybe . . .’ She shakes her head. ‘No, I shouldn’t say. It’s mean to get your hopes up.’
‘Maybe it’s me,’ Billy interrupts. ‘Maybe I’m staying here. Maybe your mum is adopting me, Mary.’
‘You really shouldn’t be eavesdropping, you know,’ the woman says, gesturing towards the closed door. ‘It’s adult stuff; if they wanted you to know, they would have let you go in there with them.’
Mary looks as though she would like to slap the woman in the face. ‘Yeah, well maybe they don’t realise how much their decisions affect the rest of their family,’ she says, flashing the woman a furious look. ‘It might be adult conversation, adult issues, but the kids always have to deal with it in the end.’
The woman looks as though she wants to engage further with them, but thinks better of it. Instead she gives a small nod, then turns around and walks away muttering, ‘Well, I’ll go and get that drink.’
‘What were you going to say?’ Ellie asks Mary when the woman is out of earshot.
‘I was just going to say that maybe they’re talking about adopting you.’
Ellie stays silent.
‘Would you like that, Ellie? Do you want to be part of our family for good?’
‘Her?’ Billy looks incredulous. ‘They would never want to adopt a weirdo like her. It’s probably me.’
Mary shoots him a look that shuts him up as effectively as a punch in the mouth.
‘Ellie?’
Ellie shrugs. She hates Gaunt, she hates school and all the other kids, but who is to say anything would be better in another school, another place? She can’t see why the Jeffersons would adopt her; she doesn’t think Sarah likes her all that much, and Mark seems pretty indifferent. But at least Sarah has never been mean to her, and Mark . . . well, she’d rather he was indifferent than like the foster father in her last home, with his greedy, hungry eyes following her everywhere she went. Who followed her into the bathroom to check if she needed more towels, and stroked her face as he tucked her into bed and kissed her good night.
No, there are far worse places she could be than with the Jeffersons. And what was it they said? Better the devil you know? Ellie isn’t entirely sure what it means; her mother used to say it all the time about her father when they had fights. What she basically thinks it means is that it’s better to stay where you are than go to something worse. And at least she has Mary. If she went somewhere else, she might be completely on her own. The school might be one where you were forced to eat maggots if you didn’t get full marks in a test, or do push-ups if you were late and stand on one leg in the corner for an hour if you forgot your homework. One of the teachers at her old school told them about these other schools one time when they were complaining about a full-class detention they had been given, her voice full of relish as she recounted all the awful things that could happen to them.
‘Earth to Ellie?’ Mary gives her shoulder a small shove. ‘I said would you like it if my parents adopted you? Do you want to stay with us forever or don’t you?’ She takes Ellie’s hand in hers. ‘We could be real sisters.’
‘I suppose,’ Ellie says. The fact is that she can’t imagine growing up in this strange place, surrounded by these people, her foster sister her only real ally in life, but she can’t imagine growing up anywhere else either. If this doesn’t work out, if the Jeffersons don’t want to keep her, will she be sent to France after all to live with Nana? Or perhaps they’ll force Auntie Pauline to have her, and she’ll have to go and live in Derbyshire with Pauline’s three horrible children – Ike, Tristan and Wagner or something equally stupid. She’ll have to have piano lessons and she’ll turn into a spoilt little shit – that was what she heard her father saying to her mother one time when they thought she wasn’t listening: ‘Those kids are spoilt little shits.’ And still, none of those lives seem like they should be her real life. Like they are just temporary, fleeting existences until they find her real mum and dad again. While they find a way to bring them back to her, so that her proper life with her mum, her dad and her baby brother can start up again.
‘You don’t have to sound so enthusiastic,’ Mary says solemnly, releasing Ellie’s hand. She kicks at the chair leg, bored and impatient. ‘I’m going to be out of here in a few years anyway,’ she adds, looking at Ellie for a reaction. ‘As soon as I’m old enough. I’m going to skip this town, and you won’t catch me coming back.’
‘Where you going to go, Mary?’ Billy asks, balling up a leaflet from one of the nearby tables and tossing it at her. Mary scowls.
‘Mind your own business.’
‘You could take me with you, couldn’t you?’ Ellie ask
s, hope surging in her chest.
Mary laughs. ‘And what would I do with you? You’ll be fifteen, max. You won’t be able to get a job or pay your way. You’ll still be in school. No,’ she studies her fingernails intently, ‘where I’m going, you can’t come with me. But it won’t be long, only about seven years, until you can come yourself. Six if you grow up real good and can look after yourself by the time you’re seventeen.’
‘Seven years is a lifetime,’ Ellie declares. ‘Almost my whole lifetime again. I can’t possibly stay here that long without you.’
Mary looks as though she’s about to say something else when the handle squeaks and the door opens. In a flash, Billy is sitting up straight and pretending.
‘Were you three listening?’ But Sarah’s voice isn’t cross, or reprimanding. She is beaming. ‘Come on, how much did you hear?’
‘Nothing,’ Mary admits. ‘Are you going to tell us what’s going on?’
‘Why don’t you come in.’ Sarah gestures inside the office, where the social worker is still sitting behind the desk and Mark is still sitting on one of the chairs opposite her.
‘Is this about Ellie?’ Mary demands.
‘If you just come into the office, we’ll tell you.’
Billy is inside and sitting in one of the chairs before Ellie and Mary have a chance to move. Mary puts out a hand to squeeze Ellie’s shoulder, and Ellie follows her into the office.
‘Now I’m sure you must be wondering why you’re here,’ the social worker says, steepling her hands to a point on her desk. She peers at them intently in turn. ‘But we have some good news for your family.’
‘What is it?’ Billy asks impatiently. Ellie longs for Mary to tell him to shut up. She wonders if Mary really is hoping that her adoption is on the table. Does she want to be her sister that desperately?
‘Well, kids, we were going to tell you this at home, but Sandra thought it might be better to give you the news while we’re here, in case you have any questions or concerns.’
Sandra nods sagely.
‘You see, you know how long your father and I have wanted a baby, Mary?’
Ellie is knocked sideways by this. She isn’t really sure where it’s going . . . a baby? Is Sarah pregnant? Mary nods, but her face has gone from jubilant to confused as well.
‘The opportunity has come up for us to foster a baby. She will be about six months old and we will be fostering her with a view to adoption. So there’s going to be a little baby around the house, isn’t that fantastic?’ Sarah beams and Mary and Ellie nod automatically, although Ellie feels as though all the air has been let out of her, like she has been deflated there and then in her seat.
‘Oh yes, just wonderful,’ Billy comments, wrinkling his nose. ‘A nice screaming, puking, ugly, wrinkled baby to look after.’ Sarah looks at him in shock. Whoops, thinks Ellie. Billy the Mean is showing.
‘I thought you were going to stop fostering?’ Mary says quietly. ‘I thought after Ellie . . .’
Sarah cocks her head to one side sympathetically. ‘I know this is hard for you, love. But if we adopt this baby, then there’ll be no need to foster any more. And that’s what you want, isn’t it? A stable family.’
‘And what about Ellie?’ Mary spits out. ‘What’s going to happen to her? Where does she fit in to our perfect family?’
Sarah looks uncomfortable and glances at Mark, looking for some help.
‘Well, Ellie knows this was only ever a short-term solution. And I don’t suppose she wants to stay with us anyway.’ Sarah looks at Ellie to back her up. ‘I’m sure she wants a more stable life too, to be adopted by a family who can give her the proper . . . care and attention she deserves.’
‘Oh yes,’ Mary replies sarcastically. ‘I’m sure that’s what she wants more than anything in the world, to be shipped from one place to another, never being able to settle, being passed over for six-month-old bloody babies. I bet that’s just the life she had in mind.’
Sarah’s eyes widen. ‘We’re not passing anyone over in favour of the baby, Mary. I think you should watch your attitude. We’ve always discussed having a baby in the house, and Ellie is welcome to stay for as long as is needed. The least you could do is pretend to be happy about our latest addition. About what might be your new sister.’
‘So where is the little shitbag?’ Mary asks. Ellie hears Billy gasp, and Sarah looks as though she might explode with fury.
‘Mary Jefferson, I did not bring you up to speak that way to your parents. And if you think you can get away with it because we’re in company, you have got another think coming. The baby won’t be with us for six weeks – there are a lot of official things that need to happen before she leaves her birth mother.’
Mary looks incredulous. ‘Six weeks? But we’ve never had a baby before! They need loads of stuff. When Lola’s mum had a baby, she said the house was just full of prams and cots and baby bouncers. We haven’t got any of that.’
‘These things can sometimes happen much quicker, overnight even.’ The social worker speaks quietly. ‘It’s not ideal for first-time foster carers of very young babies, but there is no one else available. This has all been a bit of a rush, I’m afraid.’
‘Well you’re right about one thing,’ Mary snorts. ‘It’s not ideal. Not for anyone – and least of all that baby.’
18
Imogen
It’s only mid-afternoon, but my eyes sting and my entire body aches. The office is unusually quiet, but I’m pretty sure they will still notice if I have a nap under my desk. Maybe I should at least save that for week two. Stifling a yawn, I pull up the email I received from Edward following our meeting yesterday.
Hi, Imogen,
Hope you’re settling in. Here are the cases that Emily was working on when she left. If you could do some file research and arrange appointments to meet these clients in the next week or so, it should give you enough to be going on with until our first planning meeting next Tuesday. Any problems, you can get me on Skype most of tomorrow or Friday (meetings the rest of the week – aargh!). Anything urgent, drop me an email – I’ll check them while I’m playing solitaire in senior transformation board (joke!).
Kind regards,
Ted
I double-click the attachment on the email and an Excel spreadsheet opens up, password-protected. I curse under my breath and Lucy turns around.
‘You okay?’
I point at my screen and Lucy wheels her chair over. ‘Edward has sent me this caseload of Emily’s to follow up, but it’s passworded.’
‘Oh, they’re all just CAMHS#22. I think it was supposed to be a funny Catch-22 thing but no one really got it.’ She leans over and types it in and the file pings open. She scans the list and her face hardens.
‘What? What is it?’ I ask, noting the look that my colleague has quickly replaced with neutral and scanning the list. ‘Did I get one you wanted? I’m happy to swap if there’s something you want to work on.’
‘No, it’s fine.’ Lucy gives a tight smile. ‘I just thought Ted was taking on a couple of those, that’s all.’ She hesitates as though unsure whether to say what she’s thinking. ‘If you need help, if any of them give you bother, come to me first, okay? I’ll help you work out what to do.’
I feel my stomach plummet. ‘Is there something I should know about these cases, Lucy?’
She shakes her head a little too quickly. ‘No, don’t be silly, I just meant in general, if you need any help with anything. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?’
‘That’s not how it sounded.’ I lower my voice. ‘Does it have something to do with why Emily left?’
Lucy’s face colours. ‘Emily moved away to get married. Look, I know this job is boring, but if you’re looking for mysteries, you’re in the wrong place.’
She spins her chair to face her computer screen and doesn’t look back.
19
Ellie
Ellie’s first few weeks at her new school have got off to a sha
ky start, and what happened in the town with Naomi has just made things worse. Everyone seems to know that Naomi’s mother accused her of trying to kill her daughter, and the other children have given her a wide berth. She tries not to think about the new school she would have been starting in her old life, the local senior school where all her junior-school friends would have been navigating the long corridors and huge classrooms for the first time together. She was allowed to speak to some of her old friends over the summer break, but it felt like they had already closed over the Ellie-shaped gap in their lives so efficiently that she knew she wouldn’t ask to call any of them again.
‘Young girls are resilient, Ellie,’ Sarah told her, not unkindly though. ‘They adapt quickly to changes. You mustn’t feel badly about it.’
But Ellie doesn’t feel very resilient, just numb, as though her heart has been replaced with a mouldy potato.
Today the corridor is full of people and yet Ellie could be completely on her own for all the notice anyone takes of her. Usually she prefers to be unseen, to wander the halls as though she is a ghost, transparent and inconsequential. Today, though, with only her misery for company, she feels as though she would give anything for someone to look up, smile at her and wave, say hello and ask how her day is going. But she doesn’t fit here, in this school, in this town, and the scene outside her foster parents’ house two nights before is still sitting heavily at the front of her mind. She thought she saw one of the girls standing outside her English class just before they were let out, her mouth twisted in an evil smile as she watched Ellie through the glass pane in the door. But when she left the classroom, the girl had disappeared, and Ellie wondered if she had ever really been there at all.
Her next class is history, tucked away in a small classroom underneath the stairs to the art rooms and the library. Her history teacher is a quirky little man who always wears a waistcoat at least two sizes too small for his rotund belly and says ‘ahem’ at least once every two words. But he is kind, and this term they are learning about Nazi Germany, a subject Ellie finds disturbing and fascinating in equal measure. On the wall is a poem she has memorised word for word, written by a man whose name she can’t pronounce. She repeats it now in her mind as she walks the corridor as a ghost.
The Foster Child Page 6
