The Girl and the Ghosts

by Angela Hart

  6

  ‘Can I still see you?’

  After Maria had been with us for almost three weeks we had news about her case. Christine had admitted to Social Services that she had ‘accidentally’ caused the bruising on Maria’s back. Christine claimed her actions were out of character, but that she had been suffering from depression. She insisted to Social Services that she hadn’t intended to cause Maria any harm, but had given her daughter a ‘gentle shove’ during an argument and this had caused Maria to slip down the stairs, which is how she also hurt her back.

  As a result of Christine’s admission, it was subsequently decided that Maria was being moved to another foster home, where she would be looked after for as long as it would take Social Services to decide if there were any grounds to bring a case against her mother. I found out about this when Maria had a meeting with her social worker in the lounge of our house. Maria excitedly ran into the kitchen afterwards, where I was making jam, to tell me the news. ‘Guess what, Angela? I’m not going home! I’m going to stay with some other people like you!’

  I was pleased at her reaction because Maria’s happiness was paramount. However, I found it upsetting that a child of her age was even in this situation, and that she seemed to have accepted it quite readily. I’d have been utterly devastated if I were in her shoes as a seven-year-old, and so what did that say about how Maria was treated at home, or about her general state of mind? After all, she had told me more than once that she wanted to go back to her mummy, so how come she was suddenly so pleased about this?

  I also felt a pang of sadness on a personal level. In the short time she’d been with us I’d bonded with Maria. We’d got into a routine with me detangling her hair and chatting on the way to school. I enjoyed reading to her and helping her choose books to read herself, and we’d had some really happy times together playing board games and baking. Despite the fact she was not always the best-behaved child, I would miss Maria.

  Jonathan and I did say that we were happy to keep Maria with us for longer, but Social Services said they would prefer to move her to another foster home. The reason for this was that Jonathan and I were trained to look after teenagers with specialist problems, which many foster carers weren’t. It therefore made practical sense for us to be available for another teenager, while Maria could be looked after by any mainstream carer in the area who had the space available for her.

  ‘The main thing is that Maria seems happy to be going to another foster home,’ Jonathan said.

  ‘Always the voice of reason!’ I smiled. ‘But you are right. And thank God Social Services is investigating this thoroughly.’

  On the day she left us I helped Maria pack up her things and I gave her a couple of books to keep, which she was delighted about. ‘I don’t think Gerry will mind,’ she commented absent-mindedly, which seemed a rather odd thing to say, but I let it go.

  Maria gave me a big hug before she was collected by her social worker.

  ‘Can I still see you?’ she asked. ‘Can you come to Nanny’s for a cup of tea one day?’

  ‘I’m sure I could arrange that,’ I smiled. ‘I have your nanny’s number and she has mine, so leave it with me, Maria. Good luck!’

  The prospect of potentially seeing Maria at Babs’s house made it a little easier to say goodbye to her. Jonathan and I have kept in touch with many of the children who have come to us as teenagers over the years, but more often than not we never hear again from young children like Maria who come to us on a short respite visit, as there is not usually a grandparent like Babs acting as an intermediary.

  I made a point of calling Babs the following week, to ask how Maria was and to see if perhaps we could arrange to have a cup of tea together.

  ‘Course you can, love. Maria’s here tomorrow. Pop in. I might have something stronger than tea, to tell the truth!’

  ‘Oh, why is that?’

  ‘Celebrations, Angela. Christine has seen the light.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Her and Gerry split up. I always said he was a wrong ’un. I used to tease Christine, what with her psychic powers and all. “Couldn’t you see him coming?” I’d say. Good riddance to him!’

  A feeling of relief washed over me. Maria’s future was still uncertain as the Social Services investigation and possible criminal case against Christine dragged on, but at least if Maria did end up back home one day, she wouldn’t have to live with Gerry. Apparently his two grown-up sons, Frank and Casey, had gone with him.

  ‘Well, let’s hope this is the fresh start Maria needs,’ I said.

  Unfortunately, when I visited Babs, any celebrations she may have planned were forgotten. As a result of the Social Services investigation, Christine had been charged with a Schedule 1 offence. I knew that such offences – now known as Risk to Children offences – are listed in Schedule 1 of the Children and Young Persons Act 1933, which was intended to protect children against ‘cruelty and exposure to moral and physical danger’. They’re serious offences, and Babs was extremely defensive of her daughter.

  ‘It’s him,’ she trilled. ‘That Gerry. It was all his fault. As if my Christine would hurt a hair on Maria’s head.’

  Maria was engrossed in playing with the cat while this conversation took place. I was pleased to see she looked well and she told me she liked her new foster home. Babs had clearly told her about Gerry and Christine splitting up, as Maria added, ‘But I want to go back to Mummy now Gerry has gone.’

  She went on, ‘I like the foster carer; she’s like you, Angela. She’s kind and she doesn’t shout, and she reads with me.’

  ‘That’s great to hear,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, but Nanny said I’ll go home soon, because Gerry’s gone, and I want to go home to Mummy.’

  I was irritated by the fact Babs seemed to have no filter when it came to discussing sensitive issues with Maria. She talked freely in front of her, and I was on edge the whole time as I felt this was inappropriate. As a result I only stayed for half an hour. When I left I promised Babs and Maria I’d keep in touch, as I wanted to know how Maria got on.

  ‘I’ll tell you all the gossip,’ Babs smiled, again inappropriately, I felt. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll pop over to you next time, shall I?’

  ‘Yes, you’re very welcome to,’ I found myself saying to Babs. ‘Just give me a ring or call into the shop.’

  This is how, over the course of the next few months, Babs became a regular visitor to our home. She would arrive in the shop or knock on our front door and sail into our kitchen as if she’d done so all her life and was a close member of the family. I didn’t really mind, as long as I wasn’t busy doing other things, and I always put the kettle on and had a catch-up with her whenever I could, to find out what was happening to Maria.

  Through Babs I learned that Christine was subsequently prosecuted and found guilty of the Schedule 1 offence she was charged with. She was not given a custodial sentence, but the court ordered Christine to attend some parenting classes. I imagined that she would never be allowed to have Maria live with her again after her conviction, but to my astonishment Babs eventually informed me that Maria was being allowed to go home, provided Gerry didn’t return.

  ‘Quite right,’ Babs said, helping herself to a biscuit from the tin on my kitchen worktop. ‘It was all his fault. Christine would never hurt Maria, not on purpose. As if she would!’

  This remark about Gerry didn’t really seem to make any sense, as Christine had admitted to accidentally causing the bruising on Maria’s body. I never did hear the details that emerged in court but I had to respect the law, trust that Social Services had made the correct decision and accept that Christine did not pose a threat to Maria and would be helped by the parenting classes.

  One day, not long afterwards, Babs called into the shop to announce proudly that, ‘Maria is back home with her mum, where she belongs.’ She also told me that Maria had asked after me, and that she’d like to see me. ‘Here’s Christine’s number,�
� Babs said. ‘Give her a call. She said she’d like to meet you.’

  I felt slightly sceptical about this as I’d never met Christine before and didn’t know how she would receive me, but I did want to see Maria and so I did give Christine a ring, the following week, after first checking with Social Services that it was OK with them.

  ‘Oh, Angela, it’s great to hear from you!’ Christine said, sounding genuinely enthusiastic. ‘Why don’t you come over? Maria was only saying the other day how much she missed you!’

  I felt comforted by Christine’s manner. Perhaps she’d turned over a new leaf, having come so close to losing Maria? I truly hoped so.

  I arranged to call in to see Maria and Christine one day after school, at their house. I was pleasantly surprised. It was neat and tidy, Christine had clearly made an effort with her appearance and was wearing make-up and a nice top and jeans, and Maria looked well. She was wearing new socks, her hair was neatly tied back in a small ponytail and she told me all about some new books she was reading.

  ‘I’ll show you!’ she said. ‘They’re in my bedroom.’ With that Maria got up and went out of the front door rather than climbing the stairs as I expected her to.

  I looked at Christine and saw that her cheeks had flushed a little. ‘She’s daft, my daughter!’ she said, trying to sound breezy but actually sounding slightly nervous.

  ‘What do you mean, Christine? Why has Maria gone out the front door?’

  ‘I don’t know, it’s something she always does. You watch, she’ll be back in a minute!’

  I heard Maria enter the back door, run up the stairs, go back out of the back door and reappear at the front.

  ‘Look,’ Maria said proudly, showing me her books.

  ‘Well, aren’t you lucky?’ I said, admiring the books. ‘But tell me Maria, why . . .’

  ‘It’s a game she plays,’ Christine interrupted. ‘Isn’t that right, Maria? She doesn’t like walking on the carpet in the hallway so she runs round the back. Kids, hey! Mad, isn’t it?’

  Of course I remembered what Maria had said about not being allowed to walk on the carpet, but I didn’t say anything. I was here as a visitor, and this experience made me want to continue being invited to Maria’s home. Not only did I want to see her, but I wanted to make sure she was all right.

  For her part, I soon discovered that Christine had an ulterior motive for inviting me into her life. Before I left she asked if I’d have Maria for a day at the weekend to give her a break.

  ‘It’s hard being on my own,’ Christine said. ‘I think I’m a better mum when I have a bit of time to myself.

  I discussed this with Social Services and it was soon decided that it would be written into Maria’s care plan that she could come on regular days out with Jonathan and me, and any other children we were looking after. The idea was that this would help support Christine and hopefully increase the chances of Maria settling happily at home long term.

  As a result, over the course of the next few months, Jonathan and I took Maria on all kinds of trips and days out with Tom or Dillon or both, plus any child we had with us for a brief respite stay. We went swimming and ice skating, visited a local wildlife park and saw several films at the cinema. Sometimes we treated Maria to a McDonald’s, which was by far her favourite treat of all, and she’d devour her Coke and fries in record time and always ask for more, even though she knew we would never let her have seconds.

  After one such day trip, Maria said she was very tired and wanted to cuddle up in her duvet and watch a DVD as soon as she got home to Christine’s. I was tired too, to be honest, and I willingly accepted a cup of tea when Christine offered it to me. She didn’t always bother, and I thought it would be good to have a chat while Maria was otherwise engaged.

  ‘So how are you managing, Christine?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, it’s a struggle on my own, but you’re a godsend, Angela. I actually got some decorating done today, which I really wanted to finish.’

  ‘That’s great to hear! Which room did you do?’

  ‘My bedroom,’ she said. ‘Come on, I’ll show you if you like.’

  With that Christine led me to the hallway saying, ‘Come on up!’

  ‘I’d love to see it, but I mustn’t stay long,’ I told her, as I followed her up the stairs. ‘I’ve left Jonathan finishing off a couple of jobs.’

  ‘It won’t take a minute – come and see!’ Christine said, pausing at the top of the stairs for a moment before opening a door that led into a room directly above the living room and adding, ‘It took me ages to decide what colour paint to choose. What do you think?’

  ‘Oh, it’s lovely!’ I exclaimed, peering in with one foot on the landing and one in the bedroom, as I didn’t want to intrude too much. ‘That’s a really nice colour. You’ve obviously got a flair for decorating, Christine. Well done! You should be very proud of yourself.’

  ‘Oh, I am,’ she said.

  As she spoke I heard the toilet flush, and I turned around to see the bathroom door opening, revealing a very startled looking man in his underpants.

  ‘Christ alive!’ he said, immediately jumping back into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

  ‘Gerry?’ I said, horrified.

  I had never met Gerry, but I had seen a photograph of him once, in an old album Babs showed me and Maria at her house. He had a hooked nose, scruffy hair and beady eyes, and this was definitely the same man.

  I glanced quickly at Christine, who shrugged and tried to act as though nothing had happened as she led the way back down the stairs.

  ‘Glad you like it,’ she said loudly and cheerfully. ‘I did put a lot of hard work in, and like I say it’s helpful for you to take Maria out as I can get so much more done . . .’

  ‘Christine,’ I said, as we reached the bottom of the stairs, ‘what is Gerry doing here?’

  ‘What? Oh, don’t bother about that. He, er, just called round to get some stuff he left ages ago. I forgot he was here. He’ll be gone in a minute.’

  ‘But he’s not meant to be here at all, is he?’ I said, wanting to add, ‘And it doesn’t look like he’s just popped in if he’s in his underpants,’ but I held my tongue.

  ‘Anyhow, like I was saying, what do you think of the decorating, Angela? Do you really like it?’

  ‘Yes, like I said, it’s lovely, Christine, but right now I’m a bit distracted by seeing Gerry here.’

  Christine rounded on me.

  ‘Leave it, please, Angela,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, and quite frankly it’s none of your business, is it? You’re not Maria’s foster carer any more, so why are you interfering?’

  Maria had appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Maria, babe, you tell her!’ Christine said.

  ‘Tell her what?’

  ‘Tell her that Gerry doesn’t live here any more. He just popped in for some bits, didn’t he? Remember I told you he’d do that? Silly me! I thought he’d have been and gone by the time you came home!’

  Maria stretched her lips into the shape of a wide smile and said robotically, ‘Yes, Mummy. Gerry doesn’t live here now.’

  I’ll have to let Social Services know, I thought. It was not going to do any good for me to make a scene here at the house, but I would put in the call as soon as I could. I said my goodbyes and left with a racing heart.

  Jonathan was in the shop when I got back, and as soon as I walked in the door he sensed that something was wrong and immediately asked me what the matter was. When I explained what had happened he was gobsmacked.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘If Gerry really had popped back for some belongings surely Christine would have made sure he did so when nobody was likely to bump into him . . .’

  ‘Indeed. But I don’t believe for one moment he’d popped back, do you?’

  Jonathan’s eyes widened. He is such an honest and truthful man, he had naturally tried to make some sense of the scenario, rather than suspecting serious lies were bein
g told.

  ‘I’m afraid you are right, Angela. He might be a very odd character, but even Gerry wouldn’t be in his underpants unless he was living there, or doing more than simply calling in to pick up some things.’

  Jonathan paused and then said something that took me by surprise, as it was something I hadn’t thought of. ‘Do you think there is a possibility Christine wanted you to see him?’

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘I mean, she fell over herself trying to cover it up.’

  ‘But could that have been a double bluff? I wouldn’t normally think along those lines, but this is just so odd. You don’t suppose Christine is scared of Gerry?’

  ‘You mean she deliberately made me see him, pretended to him it was an accident, and all along wanted me to call Social Services?’

  Jonathan shrugged and looked perplexed.

  ‘Ouch!’ he suddenly exclaimed, as our thoughts floated in the air between us. Jonathan had been so engrossed in trying to work out what had happened at Christine’s that he’d accidentally pricked himself with a pin he was attaching to a corsage. A large drop of blood appeared on the tip of his thumb and he reached for a tissue.

  ‘What a mess!’ he complained, but I knew he was talking about Maria’s home, not the blood.

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and call Social Services now. I’m sure it will mean Maria is taken away again, but what choice do we have? She can’t stay there if Gerry is on the scene again.’

  ‘Exactly, Angela. Maybe Gerry was never even off the scene?’

  We looked at each other aghast. Maybe we’d been hoodwinked for months? Maybe Christine wanted Maria taken off her again? We had no idea of the truth. All we could do was the correct and moral thing, and alert Social Services that the rules they had set down to protect Maria were being broken.