by Glass, Cathy
‘The escort didn’t turn up.’
I raised my eyes. ‘Thank you.’ I knew James could have phoned me at the last minute and asked me to collect Tayo. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘No problem.’
Tayo came in and Aisha hovered. I could tell she wanted to talk to me.
‘Tayo,’ I said, ‘hang up your coat, then you can have a wash. Dinner’s nearly ready.’
Aisha waited while Tayo hooked his coat onto the stand and then disappeared upstairs. ‘I thought I should let you know,’ she said. ‘Minty was pretty upset and angry for most of the contact. I’m not sure how it affected Tayo.’
‘I see. She seemed quite calm at the start. Was it anything in particular?’
‘No, not really. To be honest, I couldn’t always understand what she was saying. I don’t think Tayo did either. She was very confused and went from one subject to another. I couldn’t smell alcohol but I wondered if she’d been drinking. Tayo spent most of the time watching the television. Oh yes, but she did say she was going to bring in food next week, so to tell you there was no need for you to give him anything.’
‘OK, that’s fine. But he hasn’t eaten tonight?’
‘Apart from the plate of biscuits, no.’
I smiled. ‘Well, thanks for letting me know and for bringing him home.’
‘You’re welcome. It might become a regular thing. I pass the end of your road on my way home and Tayo’s is the last contact session. James has asked me. It would give Tayo continuity and save the cost of the escort. I could give you feedback at the same time.’
‘That would be great.’
‘See you Tuesday.’ She smiled. ‘Have a good weekend.’
‘And you.’
What a lovely, helpful person, I thought as I closed the door.
We sat down to eat shortly before six-thirty. Tayo didn’t seem upset by his mother’s behaviour at contact, but ate with his usual hearty appetite. Adrian, Lucy and Paula, to their credit, chatted normally with Tayo, although they knew I would have to speak to him later. For my part, it hung over me, and I went through the motions of eating and asking Paula and Tayo about school, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was pleased when we’d finished and I could clear away. The moment had arrived but at least that meant getting it over with.
‘Tayo,’ I said. ‘Before you do your homework, I need to have a chat with you.’
He looked at me. Was it my imagination or could I detect a hint of guilt in his eyes?
‘Let’s go through to the lounge,’ I said. ‘We won’t be disturbed in there.’
He trotted behind me. ‘Can I watch The Simpsons after?’
‘As it’s Friday, yes. On a weekday you’ll do your homework before television. But on a Friday, there’s always the weekend.’
‘And I’ve got football tomorrow,’ he said excitedly. Seeing him so happy made my task even more difficult.
‘Sit down,’ I said. He sat next to me on the sofa and looked at me questioningly. There was no trace of guilt in his eyes now as I met his gaze. ‘Tayo, what I have to say is very difficult for both of us, but it’s something I have to deal with. I’m going to ask you a question in a minute and I want you to give me a truthful answer. If you do, we’ll speak no more of it and I will respect you for your honesty. If you don’t, I’ll have doubts, which will make us both feel uncomfortable. Do you understand?’
He nodded, still looking at me.
‘Do you remember when we went shopping together and I explained to you about the money I kept in the car for the car park? I showed you where it was?’ He nodded again. ‘Well, Tayo, that money has gone missing. All of it. Did you take it? I’m not going to be angry with you but I want a truthful answer.’
‘No—!’ he began almost indignantly, then stopped and seemed to gather his thoughts. He went on calmly, ‘When could I have done that? You haven’t left me in the car alone.’
I knew for certain then that he had taken it but that he’d only admit it if I could prove he’d had the opportunity.
‘You’re quite right, Tayo,’ I said slowly. ‘You haven’t been left in the car. But you would have had time to lean forward and take it when I got out and went round to open your door to let you out.’
He said nothing, and while his gaze still held mine, some of his self-assurance seemed to have gone.
I continued. ‘You’ve been in that position twice today. The second time was when I took you to contact, and that’s when I think it happened.’
‘How can you be sure?’ he asked, obviously taken aback.
‘Because the money was there after I’d taken you to school this morning. I used some of it.’
‘Someone else might have taken it.’
‘No one else has been in the car today, apart from you and me.’
‘Perhaps you took the money and forgot,’ he said, wide-eyed and innocent.
I smiled sadly. ‘Tayo, do you really think I could be that daft?’
For the first time he dropped eye contact and looked down. ‘It wasn’t much,’ he said. ‘Why make all the fuss?’
‘It doesn’t matter how much it was. It’s the principle of taking something that doesn’t belong to you. It’s stealing, Tayo.’ I paused, but he didn’t say anything. I took a breath. ‘If you needed money, why didn’t you ask me? I told you I give you pocket money on Saturday but you could have had it early if you’d needed it.’
He said nothing and I saw his gaze flick to the clock and I knew he was calculating how much of The Simpsons was left. I felt my irritation build. ‘Tayo, please pay attention. This is serious. It doesn’t matter if it was four pounds, forty pounds or four hundred pounds. It’s wrong to steal. Why did you need the money?’
‘I didn’t,’ he muttered.
‘So why take it? Have you still got it?’ He hadn’t had a chance to spend it – we’d gone straight from school to contact, then home.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I gave it to Mum. She didn’t have any.’
‘You’re sure about that?’ I asked, not altogether surprised.
‘Yes!’ he said vehemently. ‘Cut my throat and hope to die.’
‘I think that’s a bit drastic. I just need to know you’re telling me the truth. That’s the most important thing for me.’
‘Yes, Cathy, honest.’
I felt certain he was. ‘I believe you, Tayo. Thank you for being honest. Now listen.’ I turned sideways so that I was fully facing him and chose my words carefully. ‘I know you’ve spent a long time looking after your mother and worrying about her. I think you probably looked after her better than she looked after you.’ A flash of recognition flew across his face. ‘You’re not the first child I’ve fostered who’s been in that position, and you certainly won’t be the last. In a perfect world, parents should look after their children but I know sometimes that doesn’t happen. You are ten, Tayo. Your mother is an adult. She is not your responsibility. Sandra will give her all the help she needs, and now your mum just has herself to look after, it will be easier for her. I think she found it very difficult trying to look after you as well, didn’t she?’
He nodded sadly, clearly identifying with what I’d said.
I went on. ‘I once looked after a girl who was the same age as you, and she used to save up her pocket money and give it to her mum. That’s how worried she was. I only found out after a few months because I couldn’t understand why she never had any money when she wasn’t spending it. I know you love your mum and still worry about her, but you must believe me when I say that stealing for her is not going to do anyone any good.’
‘She didn’t know I’d stolen it,’ he put in quickly, still protective of her. ‘And it was for food.’
‘All right, but do you think I would accept money from Adrian, Lucy and Paula for food, unless it was a short loan until I got to the bank? And what about your friend Sam – do you think he has to give his mother money for food? One of the things about being a responsible adult is that you l
earn how to manage money. You make sure you don’t run out, particularly if you have children. It’s an adult’s responsibility, not a child’s.’
It needed to be said. Tayo would grow up to become an adult one day, and possibly have children of his own. What sort of role model had he had on which to base his own parenting skills?
He sat listening to me in silence. I hoped that some of it was sinking in. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Tayo?’
He nodded.
‘If your mum needs anything, she can ask Sandra. There’s no reason why she should go hungry. Sandra will help her apply for benefit if she hasn’t got enough money.’
‘Mum can’t apply for benefit,’ he said firmly.
‘Why not?’
‘Because no one knows she’s in this country.’
So that confirmed what we’d all suspected – Minty and Tayo were here illegally. ‘I understand,’ I said. ‘Even so, Sandra will make sure Mum has help. It’s up to your mum to ask.’
‘I’ll tell her,’ he said, easing up a little, and glancing again at the clock.
I decided to put him out of his misery. My point had been made and I felt that he had taken it in. ‘Well, I’m pleased we’ve had this little chat, and in a minute you can watch the rest of your programme. But first I want you to promise me you won’t ever take anything again that doesn’t belong to you. Either from here or anywhere else.’
‘Yes. I promise,’ he said.
‘Good. Now, because you’ve taken that money, I won’t be giving you your pocket money this week. It will be your way of paying me back. I’ll explain why to Sandra.’ I wasn’t being vindictive. Tayo might have promised to be good from now on, but he needed to understand that his actions had consequences. As a set part of the fostering allowance had to be given to the child for pocket money, I would have to clear it with Sandra.
‘Does she have to know?’ Tayo asked.
‘Yes. She’s your social worker, and we don’t have secrets from her. But I know that when I tell her how sorry you are, and that you have promised it won’t happen again, she’ll feel the same as I do. We’ll say no more about it.’
He nodded.
‘OK. Off you go and watch your programme. And remember, if you don’t do your homework this evening you must do it after football tomorrow.’
He grinned. ‘I’m really excited about football.’
‘Good. You’ll have a great time.’
As I watched him run off, I was glad it was all over. He wasn’t really a bad child, or a thief. I didn’t believe that it came naturally to him at all – but the life he had been living had taken its toll. I hoped that he had been rescued from it in time to allow the good child inside him to flourish.
Chapter Twelve
A Past
Everyone had a lie in on Saturday morning, including me. With Tayo’s football club starting at ten o’clock, I thought I’d better wake him at eight-thirty, which would give him enough time to wash, dress and have his (cooked) breakfast before setting off at nine-thirty.
I knocked on his bedroom door and he called me in. He was already wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
‘Cathy,’ he said, the moment I entered. ‘I can’t go to football. I haven’t got any kit.’ His face showed abject disappointment but resigned acceptance. He clearly believed he was not going.
‘Yes, you can,’ I said. ‘I have—’
Before I could get any further, he said, ‘No. I can’t use my new joggers, they’ll get ruined. And you’re not allowed to wear trainers for football.’
He’d obviously been awake for some time considering the situation and running through all the possible solutions. As usual, he’d taken on the responsibility of the problem and tried desperately to solve it. I thought of Adrian who, at the same age, had never had such worries. Like most boys, he’d assumed his football kit would be washed and ready whenever he needed it.
I went over to open his curtains. ‘How long have you been lying there worrying about this?’
He glanced at the wall clock. ‘An hour, I guess.’
‘Well, don’t,’ I said firmly. His big eyes opened wider, uncertain how he should interpret my insistence. ‘I’ve already thought of all this. I knew we wouldn’t have time to shop for your kit so I’ve found some of Adrian’s that he had when he was your age. It’s washed and ready. That’ll be fine for today, then I’ll get you some of your own.’
He propped himself up on one elbow and grinned as though I was his fairy godmother, waving a magic wand and making all his problems vanish. ‘You’re great, Cathy!’
‘Thank you. I aim to please.’
‘But what about the boots?’
‘I have your size, four, virtually brand new. Adrian grew out of them fast at your age. There’s even a sports bag to put them in. So get dressed and please stop worrying.’
He leapt out of bed and planted a kiss on my cheek. I gave him a hug.
‘Good boy. Now get ready. I take it you’d like a cooked breakfast before you go?’
He grinned sheepishly. ‘Yes, please.’
‘OK, get yourself clean pants from the drawer, and your joggers and top from the wardrobe, then go through to the bathroom. The kit is in there, apart from the boots. Put it on under your clothes then when we get to the field you can slip out of your fleece and joggers and leave them in the car. That’s what the other boys do.’
I came out, adding that he should be quiet as Adrian and Paula didn’t want to be woken at eight-thirty on a Saturday. Lucy had already left for her Saturday job at Boots. Fifteen minutes later, just as I’d finished cooking his breakfast (egg, bacon, sausage and mushrooms), he appeared with the kit on, and his fleece and joggers in his hand. ‘It fits great,’ he said. ‘I thought I would show you.’
‘Excellent. You look terrific, just the part.’
‘But can I still have my own for next week?’
‘Yes, of course.’ I set his breakfast on the table, and Tayo sat down to tuck in. I went back to the kitchen to make his black tea with one sugar.
As I returned a few minutes later with the mug, I suddenly noticed an ugly scar on his left arm. His elbow was sticking out as he used his knife and fork, and the scar, about three inches long, ran along the soft flesh of his underarm from the elbow towards his wrist. It wasn’t the fine pink scar of a neatly mended and healed wound, but a jagged, taut mishmash of white tissue. I stared at it as I set the mug on the table. I had never seen a scar like it – it was a real mess. The two edges of the wound looked as though they hadn’t knitted together properly, and the new skin that had formed over the top had the appearance of stretched gauze. I hadn’t seen it before because Tayo had always been in long sleeves, but someone at the school must have seen it surely, when he’d changed for PE.
‘I bet that hurt,’ I said, lightly touching his arm.
‘It did. And it was bleeding for ages.’
‘Did you go to the hospital?’
‘No. Mum and her friend stuck it together with plasters. But every time they took the plasters off it opened up, and started bleeding again.’
Yes, I thought, horrified, a three-inch-long gaping wound, stuck together with plasters, would tend to do that! No wonder the scar looked so angry – it was incredible it had healed at all. What on earth had Minty been thinking of?
‘How long ago did it happen?’ I asked.
Tayo was more interested in his breakfast than my questions and shrugged. ‘A year, I guess. Maybe more. It took a month to stop oozing. My mum and her friend were getting worried. There was blood and yellow stuff coming out. It smelt horrid.’ And as if to demonstrate, he squirted tomato ketchup onto the yolk of his egg. I was so pleased I wasn’t eating.
‘It sounds like it went septic – that means it got an infection in it. Who was this friend of Mum’s?’
He shrugged again. ‘Some bloke we lived with for a while.’
‘And you didn’t see a doctor?’
‘No. But I stayed i
n bed for a few days and I didn’t have to go to work.’ He stopped, suddenly aware he’d just let something slip. ‘I used to help Mum clear up the house, and she’d pay me,’ he explained. ‘Anyway, it’s fine now, and I make sure I don’t knock it.’
It was on his underarm, so not in the most vulnerable place, but he would have to be very careful. The new skin was so thin it wouldn’t take much to make it burst open again. I would mention it to Sandra when we next spoke, and show the doctor when Tayo had his medical, although I doubted much could be done, other than to reopen the wound and sew it properly.
‘How did it happen, Tayo?’ I said lightly, removing his empty plate.
He was silent as he concentrated on sipping his tea, then he set it down and said, ‘Cathy, I promised you yesterday I’d try and tell the truth. But I can’t tell you the truth about this, not yet. So please don’t ask me.’
I was taken aback, both by the maturity and sincerity of his response. For a boy of ten it was unheard of. I looked him in the eye. ‘All right, Tayo. I respect that, but when you can tell me, I think you should. I have a feeling that it’s important and I should know. Agreed?’
He nodded, finished his breakfast and then went upstairs to clean his teeth. I went to the front room, took a log sheet from my desk and quickly noted what Tayo had just said. I would mention it to Sandra the next time we spoke and also ask the school if they knew anything about the scar. Perhaps he’d said something at school, for surely it couldn’t have gone unnoticed.
When we arrived at the field where the football club met, there were already half a dozen boys kicking a ball around in a warm-up. The coach, who was carrying a clipboard, watched them from the side. I left Tayo in the car to take off his fleece and joggers, and change into his football boots, while I went over to the coach, introduced myself and gave him the cheque for the term’s fees as arranged on the phone.
The coach ticked Tayo’s name off the list on his clipboard, and then handed me a medical questionnaire together with a consent form for emergency medical treatment, should it be necessary. As a parent, I completed and signed forms like this all the time without a second thought, but as a foster carer (and therefore not Tayo’s legal guardian) I was not allowed to.
