by Casey Watson
‘All may be well,’ I said resolutely. If my night-time reflections achieved one thing, it was a much more positive mindset. Now I knew what Keeley had been through I was even more determined to do my best for her, however much teenage attitude she might sling my way. And, right now, her behaviour had only been as expected. She was fifteen. She knew her stuff. She was a child of the system. Nothing I couldn’t deal with standing on my head.
I was about to say so when Mike nudged me and mouthed ‘shush’. I followed his gaze. ‘Would you look at that?’ he said, grinning.
Both Tyler and Keeley were standing at the kitchen sink, and it appeared they were already chatting away to each other. They certainly weren’t looking out, seeing us looking in.
‘That’s nice,’ I said. ‘Nice to see them chatting already.’
‘No, but, Tyler? Up willingly? Before half eight on a Sunday morning? Incredible. Come on,’ he said, rising. ‘Let’s go and join the party, shall we?’
Which was a cereal party apparently. Tyler had the cupboard open and was bent down running through the various options.
‘Hello you two,’ I said, as Mike and I joined them. ‘You’re both up bright and early for a Sunday. Did a bomb go off upstairs or something?’
Tyler had something of a self-conscious look about him, I decided. But then, Keeley, in her nightwear, was quite an arresting sight.
‘Oh, morning, Mum,’ he said. Then, glancing at Keeley, ‘We just met on the landing, both wanting to use the bathroom. So I thought I’d come down and show her where everything was and that.’
‘Yeah, awks or what?’ Keeley added brightly, grinning at him. She looked like she’d slept well, at least. ‘I’m just going to have some breakfast if that’s okay – I’m starving – before I get dressed and stuff. By the way, have the social given you any spends for me yet? I’m going to need some new clothes. Apart from some bits, I’ve only got what I had on yesterday.’
I took in ‘bits’ – by which I presume she meant undies – and also took in the way she clearly knew all about the financial arrangements that social services would put in place.
But not yet. ‘No, they haven’t, I’m afraid,’ I said. ‘And I doubt they will yet, either. In fact, a social worker will probably go and collect your things from home for you, and bring them here – well, assuming you’re still not going back home.’
Keeley made a kind of snorting sound. ‘It’s not home,’ she answered, reaching to take her chosen cereal from the cupboard. ‘And like I was just saying to Tyler, I wouldn’t hold my breath, Katy. Zoe and Steve have probably already put my stuff out for the bin men. They’ll have done it as soon as they knew I wasn’t coming back. That’s what they’re like.’
‘Casey,’ Mike corrected her. ‘It’s Casey, not Katy.’
‘Oh, sorry,’ she said, having the grace to look abashed.
‘No matter,’ I said. ‘Lots to take in last night, and you were tired. Anyway, I’m sure that won’t have been the case, but let’s see what happens tomorrow, eh? Who is your social worker, by the way? Might be someone I know.’
‘Danny,’ she said. ‘Danny Kemp?’
I didn’t know of him. I said so.
‘He’s quite new? Maybe that’s it. He’s only been my social worker for a few months. He’s really nice, he is.’ She glanced at Tyler again. ‘Not like my last one. She was a right bitch.’
I raised my brows. ‘What, bitch?’ Keeley said immediately. ‘Is that a swear word here? Really?’
I could see Tyler smirking out of the corner of my eye, so I glared at him. I could read him like a book. He could see she was going to be good value for money. ‘Swear word or not, it’s not appropriate, love, okay? So I’d just rather you didn’t. Anyway, I said,’ reaching up for bowls for the pair of them. ‘Why don’t the pair of you pour your cereal and take it into the other room, so you can watch a bit of telly while I make something cooked, yes?’
They did as instructed and soon trotted off into the living room. ‘So, what d’you reckon?’ Mike whispered once they’d gone. ‘Storm force ten? Or just a squall, you think? She’s certainly got some attitude.’
Entirely expected for a child of the system. ‘Persistent drizzle,’ I decided upon. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
But it was something that looked like I’d be handling on a fairly regular basis, if the events of the morning were anything to go by.
Having had a breakfast of the cereal, followed by an egg and bacon sandwich, Keeley disappeared upstairs to wash and dress, only to come back down three-quarters of an hour later completely transformed. That handbag of hers must have been from the same place as Mary Poppins got hers from, I decided, if the amount of make-up she’d applied was anything to go by. She waltzed into the kitchen while I was sorting out a pile of washing, with perfectly drawn-on eyebrows, a set of spider-like fake lashes and a generous slick of gothic grey eyeshadow. Foundation and blusher – lots of both – competed for attention with a deep and disarming red lipstick.
Mike and Tyler, both about to set off themselves, to watch Kieron playing football, had painted faces too – with a picture of shock and, in Tyler’s case, awe. I knew my husband’s expression well; had it been Riley standing there, aged fifteen, it would have been the precursor to him demanding that she wash it off immediately, with his usual ‘You are not leaving this house looking like that!’
He didn’t, though, and I stepped in before he did say it, with, ‘You look nice, love,’ followed by what I thought was a reasonable enough comment that she might perhaps want to save such dramatic make-up for when she was off out somewhere.
‘I am going out,’ she said, with a ‘what of it?’ kind of expression. ‘So, do I have a coming-in time?’ then the barest pause. ‘Don’t forget, I’m nearly sixteen.’
A child of the system, I reminded myself. Even though I was pretty gobsmacked. ‘Keeley,’ I answered nicely, ‘it would be polite to ask if you can go out, love. Not just announce that you are. Where are you going, anyway?’
Keeley, who’d grabbed her hoody off the newel post and was busy pulling it on, pulled a face and neatly sidestepped the question. ‘Well, I’m allowed, aren’t I? I know my rights. I didn’t realise I had to ask. Not at my age. I can go out unaccompanied so long as I’m in at a reasonable time. I am being polite – by asking what time I have to be back.’ She looked from me to Mike. Tyler just gawped. ‘So, what do you think a reasonable time is? I didn’t realise I had to tell you my itinerary.’
Oh, so this was how it was going to be, was it? The tension was suddenly almost palpable. And now Mike did speak. ‘Excuse me, young lady,’ he said. ‘Casey was being perfectly reasonable in asking you where you are going. We also have rights,’ he added. ‘Which are also very reasonable. One of which is knowing where our foster children are when not in the house.’
Another face and now a head shake. ‘God!’ she huffed. ‘I’m just off to meet mates, that’s all. I won’t be late and Tyler has my phone number if you want it.’ Oh, really? Already? ‘I just need my pocket money, please, because there’s stuff I need to buy. Cigarette filters and papers,’ she added, as if further keen to challenge us. ‘Is that all right?’
Despite everything I’d reminded myself about Keeley’s awful background, I was only human, and felt suddenly livid. But recognising that had been entirely her intention, and that this was just the first step in a process that would involve lots of boundary realignments, I picked up my handbag, found my purse and passed Keeley five pounds. ‘There you go,’ I said, ‘but you should know that you can’t smoke here, at our house, and that tea will be at six. It’s entirely up to you whether you want to come back and eat with us, but that’s the time the food will be out, okay? And if you don’t want to eat – and, again, that’s your choice, love – then we’d like you to be no later than nine o’clock tonight. I think that’s fair for someone of your age. Is that okay?’
Mike and Tyler were now staring at me as though I’d lost the pl
ot, but Keeley, nodding, took the fiver, stuffed it in her own bag, and made for the front door. Then, as an afterthought – to wind me up a little further, I imagined – she turned back again. ‘I don’t suppose you have a spare bottle of wine I could take with me?’
Mike spluttered into his coffee mug. Actually spluttered, spraying liquid out of the top of it. ‘Afraid not, love,’ I said nicely. ‘We’re all out.’
‘Oh. My. God.’ Tyler said, hauling his jaw up as soon as the front door banged shut. ‘Is she for real?’
‘It’s all bravado, love,’ I said, conscious that my pulse was thumping in my temples. ‘She’s just trying to shock us. Just testing the water. She’ll soon settle down.’
Mike ran a hand through his hair. ‘I hope you’re right,’ he said. ‘I’m starting to hope it’s all a big mistake and that her usual carers will ask for her to be sent back home.’
‘I don’t think that’s going to happen somehow,’ I said, looking towards the hall she’d just swept down, and imagining her strutting off down the road, trying to work out who’d won the first round. Did she even know where she was? Have any idea where she should be heading? ‘I have a feeling that this might just be the start of quite a long journey.’
Tyler still looked aghast. ‘Mum, was I like that when I came here? She’s so cheeky!’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Well, a bit. But don’t you worry. Not for long!’
Though with a good deal more confidence than I felt.
Chapter 4
Keeley arrived home just as I was dishing up our roast dinner, so I assumed she must have been hungry. We’d normally have had it at lunchtime, but with the weather having been so nice it made sense to move it along to early evening. And I was glad I had, because Keeley sniffed the air appreciatively as she unzipped and took off her hoody.
‘Perfect timing,’ I said, smiling at her, the morning’s tensions forgotten. As I’d intended they should be. Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all. (How many times had I told myself that, since I’d been fostering, I wondered?) ‘Roast chicken,’ I went on as she followed me into the kitchen. I gestured towards the pans on the stove and lifted lids in turn. ‘Do you like all these vegetables?’
‘Yeah,’ Keeley said, ‘all of them. But not too much gravy, please. Zoe used to drown everything she cooked with the bl— the stuff.’
Progress, I thought. ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Well, off you go to wash your hands – Mike and Tyler are doing likewise, so you’d best nip upstairs. Then straight to the table. I’m about to dish up.’
‘I’ll do it here,’ she said, going to the sink. ‘And then I can help you, if you like.’
Well, well, I thought. Progress indeed.
So that’s what she did, washing her hands at the kitchen sink and drying them on a clean tea towel. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, nodding towards a misshapen array of coloured lumps on a board on the window sill.
I turned to look. ‘Oh, that’s just a few of my granddaughter’s salt dough creations. Marley Mae,’ I clarified. ‘My daughter was over earlier. She’s four. Not my daughter,’ I said, correcting myself. ‘My granddaughter.’
Keeley made a cooing noise as she studied the various creations. ‘Ah, that’s so sweet,’ she said. ‘What is it? A sheep or something?’
‘I believe that one’s a unicorn.’ I told her. ‘Just a rather short one.’
Keeley laughed as she finished drying her hands. ‘Blimey. You don’t look old enough to have a grand-daughter,’ she said. ‘You don’t even look as old as Zoe. Are you?’
‘I have no idea,’ I told her. ‘But you’re right. I’m not that well preserved – I’m just quite young for a grandmother, I suppose.’
She smiled. She had a nice smile. It really transformed her face. As was so often the case with teens who made a look of scowling cynicism their default expression. ‘Have you any more?’ she asked.
‘I have four,’ I told her as I pulled the chicken from the oven. ‘The oldest is ten now. Which I can’t quite get my head round, to be honest.’
I wondered as I spoke about Zoe Burke and what she might be like. I wondered if they’d adopted their first child because they’d tried for quite a while and failed to have one of their own. It made sense, given Keeley’s comment about her probable age. For how long had they tried? I wondered how old they were now.
‘Blimey, ten?’ Keeley said, gaping.
I smiled. ‘My daughter started very early.’
‘And you’ve got a son as well, haven’t you? I mean, as well as Tyler. He told me. Sorry, I’m not being much help, am I? What can I do?’
‘I tell you what,’ I said, because my guilty secret was that I preferred dishing up solo. ‘How about you take a look at something while I do the dishing up?’ I went across to my junk drawer (which of course held the exact opposite; everything in it was indispensable, obviously) and pulled out a much-thumbed pink A4 plastic wallet.
‘What’s this?’ Keeley asked as she took it from me.
‘It’s the family,’ I told her, because that was exactly what it was.
It was a relatively recent thing, the family file, but our fostering agency had encouraged all of us to make one. It was a kind of rogues’ gallery, containing mug shots of all the family members foster children who stayed with us might come into contact with, together with names, ranks and serial numbers – well, sort of. It was a good idea, too, because it was a quick way to orient a new house guest – right down to pictures of the house itself (it could be sent out to a prospective new child as well, of course), plus some light-hearted details about the family routines.
‘Take a look,’ I said. ‘And I tell you what, why don’t you take it on through. I’m sure Mike and Tyler will be happy to fill in any gaps.’
I smiled as she ambled off into the dining room, file in hand. And leaving me to plate the food up unmolested.
‘This is just so cool,’ Keeley was saying to Tyler when I came through with the plates. ‘Your mum and dad are so cool too,’ she added, glancing at Mike. ‘And so young.’
Tyler grinned. ‘Oh, they’re older than they look, you know.’
Keeley giggled, and I noticed how it made Tyler blush. I made a mental note that I’d definitely have to keep an eye on things in that department. I had never seen the lad go this gaga over a girl before. Well, not that I was aware of. What he got up to when out with his mates might be another matter entirely.
‘Less of the “old”, mister,’ I warned, waving a wooden spoon towards him. ‘Or there’ll be no breast for you – only the parson’s nose!’
Of course, I realised the very second the words had left my mouth how inappropriate they sounded. Tyler now looked mortified, and even more so when Keeley laughed out loud. ‘Yeah, Tyler,’ she teased, waggling a finger, ‘no breast for you!’ then, to Mike and my joint mortification, actually jiggled her own pair a little.
Mike stood up, clearing his throat. ‘Let me help with the other veg,’ he said, whispering ‘nice one’ as he passed me on the way to the kitchen.
But then, once we’d come back with the rest of the food and I tried to steer the conversation away to other, less inflammatory subjects, I got put in my place as well.
‘So,’ I said, sitting down, once both plates and veg were on the table, ‘what’s all this about Zoe’s gravy?’
Keeley picked up her cutlery. ‘You know, Casey,’ she said, ‘I know you don’t want me to swear, so I’d really rather not talk about them, if that’s all right with you. All I can say is that Steve is a twat and Zoe is an idiot for putting up with him.’ Her gaze took in all of us. ‘There isn’t really anything else to say.’
Keeley was right, of course. There probably wasn’t. Not at the dinner table, with her allegation towards her foster father still hanging in the air. So I decided to leave it and just try to enjoy my meal – get this first day over with as little drama as possible. I also decided, on impulse, to break a bit of a house rule by opening up the double doors from dining
to living room so that the television could provide the entertainment rather than me. Which worked well; a repeat showing of Dancing on Ice improved the mood no end and we managed to finish up without further incident. The only thing that kept occurring to me was that, after we were all done with tea, would Keeley announce that she was going back out again? And if so, would there be another quibble about coming in on time?
Apparently not. It seemed Keeley was done with socialising for the day. Indeed, no sooner had she helped me with the last of the clearing up (uncomplainingly – another tick) than she announced that she was going to turn in for the night.
‘Really?’ I said, astonished. ‘But it’s not even eight o’clock yet.’
‘I know,’ she said, folding a tea towel and hanging it over the cooker handle. ‘But I’m just still so tired.’ She yawned extravagantly, but not at all convincingly. ‘I did walk for miles, you know, whatever that copper told you.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you did, love,’ I told her, wondering what she planned on doing once up in her bedroom. Certainly not sleep. Not yet, at least. She was all internet-ed up, after all. ‘No, you go on up, get some kip,’ I said. ‘We’ll be having the posse here tomorrow, won’t we? So you’ll need to have your wits about you.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I’d forgotten that.’ I didn’t think she had for a minute. ‘Anyway, I’ll just grab a glass of water, if that’s okay. Which cupboard was it where you keep your glasses?’ Then she yawned again, so I said goodnight, and saw her off up the stairs.
‘What do you think?’ Mike said, once I’d rejoined him and Tyler back in the living room.
