by Angela Hart
I thought about who I could call to rally support and I resolved to try the head of Social Services and the Child and Family psychologist, to enlist their help. It was totally unacceptable that Lucy was being allowed to founder like this, simply because of her family circumstances and the fact the foster service was so stretched she’d had to travel to another county to be cared for.
Lucy chatted non-stop all the way to the party. It seemed there was no topic she didn’t want to discuss, no question she wanted to leave unanswered.
‘Why do you listen to that radio station? Who’s your favourite singer? Do you like Oasis, because my daddy does. He tries to play the guitar but he’s rubbish! Do you play a musical instrument? Once I played a trumpet at school. Can you play the piano?’
It was a pleasure chatting to Lucy when she was in this mood. We’ve had plenty of surly kids in the back of the car and endured many awkward silences and frosty-faced journeys in our time. By contrast Lucy was fun and entertaining, so we didn’t mind that there was no let-up in her chatter.
However, once or twice she said things that didn’t fully ring true. For instance, at one point she said Wendy had told her ‘exactly’ what to wear for the party, but I’d spoken to Wendy myself. The truth was that Wendy had once again asked Lucy not to wear any of her Nike clothing, as the other kids would be jealous and it may cause trouble. She hadn’t told Lucy what she could wear, and I reminded Lucy that she’d picked out the dungarees and short-sleeved shirt she had on. ‘She told me to,’ she said, but the dungarees were new and Wendy didn’t even know I’d bought them for Lucy just the day before.
I’d been reading up on the topic of lies ever since Lucy’s fibs about her bike and swimsuit. The advice was to not say anything immediately, but to pick your moment some time after the event and talk to the child in general terms about how lies make you feel. That way it’s not confrontational or accusatory, and there is more chance of the child listening to you and taking on board what you are saying, rather than coming back with excuses or more lies. This made a lot of sense to me and I’d been waiting for the right time to broach the subject.
‘I can’t wait to tell you all about the party afterwards!’ Lucy said, and that’s when I saw my chance.
‘I’m looking forward to hearing all about it. By the way, you know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you? You can be honest with me, and with Jonathan, and if there is anything at all you want to talk about, about the party or anything else, we are here to listen.’
‘Can I?’ Lucy said.
‘Of course, as long as you are telling the truth you can tell us whatever you like, and we are here to listen and help you. The only thing we don’t like to hear is any fibs, because if anybody isn’t truthful with us it hurts us here.’
I pointed to my heart, following the advice I’d read in a fostering and childcare book, specifically aimed at Lucy’s age group.
She nodded, looked beyond me, out of the front windscreen and asked, ‘Are we nearly there yet?’
‘Not far!’ Jonathan said. ‘Oh look, there’s the estate.’
The family lived on the edge of a very big housing estate. Lucy tried to direct us but we took a couple of wrong turns before we finally arrived at the house, which was on the end of a large crescent of properties facing a play area that looked well-used and in need of revamping.
‘We’ve got the biggest garden of everyone!’ Lucy said proudly. ‘Daddy’s so clever.’
The parking area was up the side of Lucy’s house and we could see there was plenty of land at the back. There certainly seemed to be room for an extension, as Lucy had described. She unfastened her seat belt the second the car stopped and was at the front door in a flash. Her father answered, and she flung herself at him.
‘Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!’
‘Hello, princess. How are you?’
‘Happy to see you! Happy birthday!’
Lucy turned to look at Jonathan and me as we walked up the path. She’d left the muffins and her dad’s card and present on the back seat of the car in her hurry to get to him, but I’d picked them up.
‘I nearly forgot, thank you, Angela,’ she said politely, taking them off me and giving me a little smile.
Dean invited Jonathan and me inside. We didn’t want to intrude but Lucy said she’d like us to see Dean open his present and so we said we’d pop in for a few minutes. There was a buzz in the air and all the children were milling around. All four were polite and friendly, as they had been last time we met, and Milly told me how they’d all helped to blow up the balloons that were festooned around the room.
‘They’ve done me proud!’ Dean said.
‘They have indeed,’ Jonathan said. ‘The decorations look fantastic!’
Dean raved about his football poster and the card Lucy had made. ‘I’ll put it in pride of place,’ he said.
Lucy gave the biggest smile I’d ever seen, but as Dean went to place the card on the mantelpiece her little face fell.
‘Where are the photos?’
‘Which ones?’
‘You know, all our school pictures that were on the wall, there?’
Wendy appeared, said a brisk hello to us and answered on Dean’s behalf.
‘Oh, they were old. I’ve done a bit of decorating, d’you like it? I got some new pictures, remember I told you about the decorating?’
Lucy nodded obediently as she looked to the wall Wendy was pointing at, on the opposite side of the room. The new pictures were a mixture of family photos, all in matching frames. The largest one was of Wendy in a silver dress and Dean in a tuxedo. It looked like it had been taken at a Christmas party. Next there was an A4-sized school photo of Gemma, followed by a lovely shot of the twins posing either side of Milly, out in the countryside somewhere. Finally there was a group shot of all seven members of the family, lined up in front of a church. This was in the smallest frame, about half the size of Gemma’s school photo.
‘Baby Tia’s christening,’ Lucy commented as she looked at this last picture. There was a note of disappointment in her voice and I stepped towards Lucy and the photograph.
‘What a beautiful baby,’ I said, my eyes drawn to the pretty little bundle who was dressed in a long, satin christening gown with a matching bonnet.
‘Yes, she’s my sister’s youngest,’ Wendy said proudly. ‘Proper little smasher she is. I’m her godmother.’
I looked along the line-up. Scanning left to right I saw Josh, Liam, Milly and Gemma grinning broadly for the camera, followed by Dean and then Wendy, who was holding the baby in her arms. Her left elbow was lifted high, slightly obscuring the face of the little blonde girl next to her: Lucy. No wonder she was disappointed. Lucy was stuck on the end like an afterthought, and I had to look twice to be sure it was even her.
We didn’t stay for the tea that was offered. Wendy told me they had eighteen people coming over and it was obvious she wanted to get on with the party food and finish the preparations. Dean told us he would drop Lucy back later, around six o’clock. She smiled when he said this.
‘Will it just be you driving me?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. If anyone else wants to come, that’s fine by me.’
I imagined Lucy would have liked to have some time alone with her daddy, but I don’t think Dean thought about that. He seemed like a very straightforward and decent kind of man – a ‘what you see is what you get’ type of person. Perhaps he wasn’t as emotionally tuned in to Lucy as another person may be, but he clearly loved his daughter and was doing his best in difficult circumstances.
Jonathan and I both felt Lucy’s pain about that photograph and we carried it with us out of the house.
‘Do you think Wendy was just thoughtless, or did she do that deliberately?’ I asked.
‘I think the fact you are even asking that question says a lot. We don’t know Wendy well enough, do we? And with Lucy’s tendency to tell fibs, it’s very difficult to work out what is really going on.’
>
‘You’re right. It’s a very tricky situation. It’ll be interesting to see how today goes. Fingers crossed.’
We tried to be optimistic and we talked about the positive things. The general atmosphere in the house had been good and all the siblings – including Gemma – were in an upbeat mood and seemed pleased to see Lucy and welcome her home. The house itself was tidy, clean and comfortable, and Wendy was clearly going to a lot of trouble to put on the birthday gathering for Dean. Compared to the many other family homes we’d visited of kids in our care, this one seemed very functional.
‘But that’s worrying in itself,’ Jonathan said thoughtfully.
‘What is?’
‘The fact everything seemed functional. Or not dysfunctional. I’m still at a loss to really understand how things got so bad Lucy had to move out.’
Move out was a polite way of putting it, I said. I was feeling very protective towards Lucy and that christening image was still burning in my mind.
Jonathan made a good point. None of the typical problems we’d encountered with other families were present in Lucy’s case. This was not a family grappling with drug or alcohol addiction, extreme poverty or mental health traumas, to name just some of the common issues we’ve contended with over the years. Wendy and Dean were raising four other children together, holding down jobs and running a home. For her part Lucy was a healthy, loving little girl who wanted nothing more but to live back with her family, and to belong. She was not afraid of anyone; she wanted more contact with her family, not less.
‘Well, I’m sure everything’s going to be fine today,’ I said as we arrived home. I was trying to remain positive, and there was a lot to be optimistic about. ‘The main thing is that Lucy wants to move home more than anything in the world. She’s going to be on her best behaviour at the party, I’m sure. Wendy obviously just wants everybody to have a good time on Dean’s birthday. She certainly won’t want any incidents. I can’t imagine anything will go wrong, not today.’
Jonathan sighed and gave a little laugh.
‘If only life were that simple! I know you’re only saying that because you desperately want things to work out for Lucy, but I’m afraid we both know the truth.’
I looked at Jonathan and reluctantly acknowledged the sense of his words. As usual, he had his feet firmly on the ground and his instincts were finely tuned.
‘Let’s face it – anything could happen,’ he said ominously.
I felt a pang in my chest and looked at my watch. Waiting for Lucy to come home was going to seem like days rather than hours.
10
‘I just can’t cope with her’
The whole family came to drop Lucy back to our house after the birthday party. I expressed surprise about this as I imagined the last thing they would all want to do after such a busy day was to spend two hours in the car.
‘We like to stick together,’ Wendy said firmly. ‘Besides, I like to know exactly what is going on.’
She said this with a slightly accusatory tone in her voice and didn’t seem very happy.
‘How was the party?’ I asked. I’d been on pins all day, desperately hoping nothing would go wrong. More than anything else, I wanted Lucy to return with a smile on her face and some hope in her heart. She looked slightly subdued as she stood huddled with her siblings in the doorway, but hopefully that was just because she didn’t want to say goodbye to her family. She was probably tired too, I thought.
All the children began chattering at once. It sounded like they’d had a lovely afternoon playing games and eating cake, and Dean said he’d had a ‘brilliant day’, surrounded by family and friends.
‘I’m going to slip out to the pub for a quiet pint with the boys when we get home,’ he said, giving Jonathan a wink. ‘Think that will top the day off nicely!’
Wendy rolled her eyes and looked even less happy than she did before.
I thanked Dean for driving Lucy back and she gave everyone a cuddle, including Wendy. It was a slightly awkward hug and Wendy didn’t crack a smile, but at least it was better than nothing.
‘Thanks Lou-Lou. That’s a good girl.’
I got the impression Dean had asked Lucy to make sure she gave Wendy a hug and that’s what Jonathan thought too. I also happened to notice that Gemma was wearing a Nike T-shirt, which I thought was odd after everything Wendy had said about designer labels. I didn’t say anything, of course. I wouldn’t dream of it, and in any case Wendy was looking decidedly irritated now.
‘I’ll ring you later,’ she said, ushering the kids back to the car.
I said OK and nodded in agreement, though I sensed trouble.
‘There are a few things I need to talk to you about, Angela. Are you in this evening?’
‘Yes, we’re not going anywhere.’
‘Fine. I’ll talk to you later.’
The way Wendy spoke filled me with dread: she might just as well have thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over me. My mood plummeted, my body tensed and I felt stung.
Lucy gave her daddy one last hug and waved her family off. It seemed heartbreaking she had to go through this process of saying goodbye and being left behind at our house. It would surely have been easier for Lucy if the other kids didn’t tag along in the van. She watched it disappear around the corner and thankfully didn’t seem upset.
‘So, how was it?’ I asked.
‘Brilliant!’ Lucy smiled. ‘Daddy LOVED the muffins. We had sausage rolls. I love sausage rolls. Daddy let me have two pieces of cake. We played hide and seek. I saw the drawings of the new extension. It’s going to be AMAZING, Daddy said. He promised I can help him do some jobs.’
Lucy paused for breath and said sweetly, ‘I miss him already.’
We went into the kitchen as I was still clearing up after our Sunday dinner and she carried on talking. ‘What do you do on your birthday? When is it? Gemma’s got the next birthday in our family. She wants a pony! I told her all about the horses. Can I go on the computer? Wendy said . . .’ Lucy paused again and quickly corrected herself. ‘Mum said it sounds like I’m having the life of Riley. Who’s Riley?’
I told her it meant it sounded like she was having a good life. I know the phrase has critical undertones, suggesting someone is having it easy, but I avoided mentioning this, of course. There was definitely trouble looming with Wendy. She had obviously taken objection to something that had happened that day. I didn’t want to ask Lucy any leading questions and she didn’t offer any clues, but I’d find out soon enough. I was waiting anxiously for Wendy’s call, and I wasn’t looking forward to what she had to say.
Lucy was in bed when the phone rang later in the evening.
‘I’ll get straight to the point, Angela. Lucy was very difficult today, and I mean VERY difficult.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I thought everything had gone well. She certainly seemed to have enjoyed herself, and everyone looked happy enough when you dropped her home.’
‘Well, yes. I didn’t want to spoil the day for Dean, and that’s why I’m phoning now, while he’s down the pub. He didn’t see what she was like as he was so busy with our guests, but Lucy behaved like a spoilt little madam all day. I’m not sure I can have her over again for a whole day like that. I don’t think it’s fair on the other kids, and I just can’t cope with her.’
I was very surprised and disappointed to hear this, but I felt a little sceptical too. How could Dean have failed to notice if Lucy behaved like a ‘spoilt little madam’ the whole time she was there? And how come Dean and Lucy had both used the word ‘brilliant’ to describe the day. I’d noticed this and hadn’t got this wrong. On the other hand, Dean was probably distracted by his guests, and I couldn’t always rely on what Lucy told me. I was prepared to listen to Wendy, and she was more than prepared to talk. She wasted no time in listing all of Lucy’s faults and failings.
‘She broke Gemma’s alarm clock. She said it was an accident but I don’t believe her. She bragged about the horses to make
Gemma jealous and now I’m being nagged to death about letting her have a pony and riding lessons. She interrupted me every time I tried to have a conversation. She would only eat crisps and cake. Need I go on? I can do without it, I really can. She even came and stood right in between me and Dean when he was trying to say thanks to everyone for coming. She stood on my foot on purpose. It was embarrassing. She really knows how to cause trouble. She’s a proper little madam, and she’s spoilt.’
I wasn’t sure how to handle this. My heart wanted me to scream, ‘Wendy, you are talking about a vulnerable little girl who has gone through major disruption and needs to be shown love and understanding. Her self-esteem is on the floor and she craves attention from her daddy. Maybe she has broken something, but how can you be so sure? Maybe you need to consider it was an accident and Lucy is doing her best to please you all? Can’t you see she could have stepped on your foot by accident, simply because she wanted to be close to her daddy?’
My head told me to say the bare minimum and remain impartial and professional. Perhaps Lucy had caused trouble on purpose. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility.
‘Thanks for passing this on,’ I said evenly and politely. ‘I can assure you that Jonathan and I are doing our best to teach Lucy to be well mannered, to eat properly and to be kind and well behaved. I’m sorry to hear about the clock. I’ll talk to Lucy about what happened.’
Wendy said she should pay for a new one out of her pocket money.
‘I’ll talk to Lucy,’ I repeated calmly, not committing to anything before I’d heard both sides of the story, and refusing to match Wendy’s aggravated tone.
‘Thanks very much indeed, Angela,’ she said. With a huff she added, ‘I knew you’d understand. I don’t know how you put up with her!’
I brought the conversation to an end. However Wendy chose to interpret what I’d said, I’d been very careful not to accept her version of events or make any promises about what Lucy must do next.
The next morning I sat Lucy down and told her that I’d had a call from Wendy, who was unhappy about her behaviour at the party.
