The Girl Who Wanted to Belong, Book 5 Read online

  Jonathan and I agreed to juggle things so that we could drop Lucy at her granny’s on the Friday night after school and collect her on Monday. It meant booking Barbara in for some extra hours and asking my mum to collect Maria from a school friend’s house on the Monday, but we decided it was worth the effort. The return journey was 230 miles and we both wanted to accompany Lucy, and share the driving. Wherever possible we try to avoid travelling alone with a child even on shorter trips, just in case anything untoward happens. Social Services prefers two adults to travel in a car with a child, to safeguard all parties, and the rule is that even if there is only one adult in the vehicle the child must sit in the back. Obviously it wasn’t possible for us to all travel together when we took the girls to their separate school every morning, but we did our best to both be there on all other journeys.

  Lucy gave me a hug when I came off the phone after making all the plans. She immediately went to pack a bag, even though it was only Wednesday.

  ‘It’s great to see Lucy so excited,’ I said to Jonathan. ‘This could be just what she needs.’

  For the next couple of days Lucy was as good as gold, and she didn’t wet the bed.

  ‘What’s wrong with Lucy?’ Maria commented after we’d all eaten dinner together on the Thursday night.

  ‘What do you mean? She seems in a perfectly good mood to me.’

  ‘That’s what I mean. She’s being too nice. She’s not staring at me and she’s not being a pain.’

  I let this go and gave a gentle laugh. ‘I think she’s in a good mood because she’s spending the weekend with her granny, and she hasn’t seen her for a while.’

  As I cleared the plates off the table I tried to work out how long it had been. Unbelievably, it was coming up for three months. The time had flown.

  Lucy was bouncing in her seat when we arrived at her grandmother’s. School had finished a little earlier than usual that Friday and we’d been lucky with the traffic, so we’d arrived in very good time.

  ‘Come here Lucy,’ Ivy said, opening the front door. ‘Come and give your old granny a big hug.’

  Lucy cuddled her granny as if her life depended on it.

  ‘Look at you! You’ve got your front teeth I see. You’re looking very grown up.’

  Ivy invited me and Jonathan in for a cup of tea and said she was very happy to fetch us something to eat, if we were hungry. We declined, not wanting to be any trouble, but she still brought out a tray laden with a homemade sponge cake and a pot of tea. Her house was pin-neat and the elaborately wallpapered walls, the brass mantelpiece and every inch of the burgundy-painted windowsills were filled with photographs of her family.

  ‘This is me,’ Lucy said proudly, showing me a picture of herself as a toddler, pushing a toy wheelbarrow around a garden. ‘And this one.’

  The second picture showed Lucy on her christening day, being carried by her dad, next to the font. There was a young woman next to him, with her arm around him, smiling. She was the spitting image of Ivy and I assumed it was Lucy’s mother.

  ‘Me and Daddy,’ Lucy said, making no mention of the woman. ‘I had a hat that matched my christening dress but I hated it, didn’t I Granny?’

  ‘You did. You pulled it off. Nearly landed in the font!’

  Ivy caught my eye. ‘Yes, that’s my daughter Noreen, Lucy’s mother.’

  Lucy didn’t react in any way to this reference and Ivy swiftly changed the subject.

  ‘Let me show you to your bedroom, Lucy. I’ve changed the curtains since you were here. My leg’s a lot better so I’ve been able to do more, thank the Lord.’

  Ivy explained that when Lucy had stayed with her earlier in the year she had been recovering from an operation, which of course did not help one bit when she unexpectedly found herself trying to look after an eight-year-old who was miles from home, out of school and upset by all the disruption she’d gone through.

  I could see that Ivy still looked a little unsteady on her feet, but she reassured us she was in much better health now.

  ‘Are you sure you can manage the whole weekend?’ Jonathan asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it. I was in the Land Army, you know. It might not look like it but I’m made of strong stuff.’

  Lucy’s eyes widened ‘You were a soldier?’

  ‘Not quite. I’ll tell you all about it when we have time. Now, what was I saying? Oh yes, I’ve already got the shopping in so that’s done. And Lucy’s a good little helper, as I’m sure you’ve found out.’

  Jonathan and I said we had indeed.

  Ivy liked to chat and we went on to talk about her experiences as a foster carer several decades earlier. ‘How things have changed,’ she mused, raising her white eyebrows. ‘In my day it was all orphans or unwanted children born to unmarried mothers. Now it’s all about dealing with poor souls with syndromes and disorders that the parents can’t cope with. I don’t know how you do it.’

  Jonathan and I swapped glances. Lucy was listening to every word and I felt uncomfortable about that. I hoped she wasn’t wondering which category she fitted into. She certainly wasn’t an orphan, and she wasn’t put into care by an unmarried mother. Neither was she an unwanted child and nor did she have ‘syndromes and disorders’, as Ivy put it. Lucy had some behaviour issues, of course, but we’d dealt with far worse. Why, exactly, is Lucy in foster care? I thought. It was a very complicated question, and I wasn’t sure I knew the answer.

  Jonathan did what he always does very well, taking the conversation in a different direction and lightening the atmosphere.

  ‘Orphans. Now that’s a word you don’t hear much nowadays,’ he said. ‘Makes me think of Oliver Twist. Speaking of films, have you seen Toy Story? The animation is meant to be out of this world. I’m really looking forward to seeing it.’

  Ivy said she hadn’t been to the cinema for ages and didn’t have a video recorder. Lucy started to tell her all about it, having watched it recently with my mother, and while she nattered away I couldn’t help returning to my question, because it was playing on my mind.

  What, exactly, was Lucy doing in foster care, when all her siblings lived at home?

  The more time passed, the more I was starting to think that Wendy was the problem with Lucy, but that was something I had to keep to myself. The reality was I didn’t know the half of what had gone on in Lucy’s family home, or what went on in Wendy’s life, or Lucy’s head. ‘You never know what’s really going on in somebody else’s life,’ Jonathan and I often say, and this helps us both to stay open-minded and non-judgemental, as we need to be.

  Nonetheless, I thought about how unfair Lucy’s lot seemed. Her place in the family, the dynamics of her family unit and the personalities of Dean, Wendy and Gemma had contributed massively to her current situation, I felt in no doubt about that. Yet all of those factors and circumstances were beyond Lucy’s control. She was eight years old. Surely she should be living with her family, and shouldn’t those closest to her be doing their utmost to make that possible? Instead, they seemed to be looking for trouble and coming up with excuses to keep her out of the home. Not everyone, of course. Wendy was certainly like that, and so was Gemma, to a lesser extent. I wasn’t sure about Dean. I didn’t think he was actively trying to derail the family reunion, as I feared Wendy and Gemma were, but his lack of backbone made him complicit. I wished he’d follow his heart and stand up for himself, and for Lucy, but I didn’t know whether he had it in him.

  ‘Angela, Granny is going to take me to the cinema this weekend!’ Lucy blurted out, after helping Ivy carry the cups to the kitchen.

  ‘That’s good. What are you going to see?’

  Ivy chuckled and said she had no idea what was on, but it would be a great treat for both of them, she was sure.

  Driving home, we both felt optimistic about the weekend.

  ‘It’s great to see Lucy looking so happy,’ Jonathan said. ‘Fingers crossed she behaves herself and it all goes well. It could be a great turning
point for her.’

  16

  ‘Where’s my daddy?’

  When we went to collect Lucy on the Monday she was full of beans, enthusing about what she’d done, what she’d seen at the pictures and how she’d helped her granny to cook, tidy up the garden and even paint an old wooden bench that Ivy loved to sit on when the sun lit up her patio in the afternoon.

  ‘Come and see!’

  Lucy led us outside and proudly showed off the bench. It was painted navy blue and looked fantastic.

  ‘I sanded it down and everything,’ Lucy said. ‘Granny said she didn’t recognise it when I finished it.’

  Ivy waved us off at the door, having given Lucy a warm hug and a kiss on the forehead. She reminded her to keep in touch and told her to look after the booklet: she’d given Lucy a precious piece of memorabilia from her Land Army days.

  ‘It’s been so lovely to see you,’ she said. ‘I’m worn out now, but I’ll get over it! I look forward to seeing you soon. I hope to see you in the summer holidays.’

  Lucy looked at me hopefully.

  ‘I hope so too,’ I said, not committing myself to anything I didn’t have the power to deliver.

  Lucy slept in the car on the way home, only waking when we stopped off for petrol and food. We treated her to a McDonald’s and she was as good as gold, although that does tend to be the result when you take any child to McDonald’s! When we got home she had an animated chat with my mum and Maria, telling them all about her trip. I don’t think I’d ever seen her looking so happy and relaxed.

  When the girls were in bed Jonathan and I reflected on the weekend. We were very glad we’d made the effort to drive her there and back, although I think we were almost as worn out as Ivy!

  ‘I think the weekend’s done Lucy the power of good,’ I said. ‘Ivy didn’t have one single complaint, did she?’

  ‘No. And I think she would have let us know if there had been any problems, don’t you? She’s a good person, a straight-talking woman.’

  ‘She is. I’d love to ask her what she really thinks about Wendy and Dean, I really would. And I’d like to ask about Lucy’s mum. I wonder if Ivy is in touch with her? I wonder what went wrong? It would be helpful to know. I mean, all we know is that she abandoned the family when Lucy was, what? Four?’

  We’d been told that right at the start of the placement but heard no more.

  ‘That’s right. Lucy was four and she’s never seen her since. Very sad, isn’t it?’

  Lucy was still in an upbeat mood the next day and when I collected her from school Miss Heather came out to find me in the playground, just outside the classroom.

  ‘Mrs Hart, I’m glad I’ve caught you. I wanted to say that Lucy has been a joy to teach today. She’s been kind and helpful and very well behaved. She’s listened and tried hard, and she’s produced a lovely piece of artwork. We have been looking at Japanese culture and Lucy loved learning about origami. Do you have time to come on in and see what she made?’

  ‘Of course. I’d love to.’

  Lucy was holding a tiny little swan made of paper. It was sitting in the palm of her hand and she held it up so I could have a good look.

  ‘I’m going to give it to Granny for her birthday. Do you like it?’

  ‘I do. It’s very clever indeed. I’d love to learn how to make one of those. Can you teach me?’

  ‘Yes! I’ll make one for you too, if you like.’

  Miss Heather told Lucy she could take a few sheets of paper and card home with her.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ I said. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

  I gave Miss Heather an appreciative smile and hoped she realised I was thanking her for so much more than the art paper. This was exactly the kind of encouragement Lucy needed. She was very skilful with her hands, and praising her when she produced work like this was great for her self-esteem.

  ‘Bodes well for the session tomorrow,’ Jonathan commented when I told him about Lucy’s successful day at school and continued good behaviour.

  ‘Let’s hope so. I really want it to go well for her this time.’

  This session was an extra counselling slot that had been fitted in at the Child and Family centre for Lucy and her father. Wendy had been invited too but couldn’t attend as she was working, apparently. Bella had pushed for the session in advance of the upcoming placement meeting as she thought it would be helpful to get things back on track before everyone gathered to make decisions about the next steps. It hadn’t been easy to get Dean to attend on his own, I learned, but he had been persuaded. I was very pleased about this. Maybe I was clutching at straws, but I felt sure that he and Lucy would make some good progress together, without Wendy’s influence.

  Lucy was very excited about the session and she talked about her daddy all the way to the centre, telling us about all the gardening projects he’d done in the past, including the time he won an award from the council for revamping part of an inner-city park. She made no mention of Wendy or Gemma or any of her siblings. It was all about Daddy today, and Lucy was making the most of it.

  ‘He’s very kind, my daddy. He makes me laugh. He’s the best daddy in the world. Did you know, he can ride a motorbike? He’s got one in the garage he’s been building for ages and ages. He said he’ll teach me to ride it one day. One time he let me squirt the oil on the spooks.’

  ‘Spooks?’

  ‘No! Not spooks. What is it? You know, those wheel thingies.’

  ‘Spokes!’ Jonathan and I chimed.

  ‘Yes! Spokes. I like that word. Spokes!’

  ‘I do too!’ Jonathan said, and then he told Lucy all about the motorbike he once owned, before we got married.

  Lucy listened intently and thought it was hilarious that Jonathan used to ride a motorbike. He said he’d show her photos to prove it and she threw her head back and giggled at the prospect. She was happy and in an incredibly receptive mood. I took a deep breath and looked out of the window just in time to see a beautiful green field full of golden yellow crops drift by. In the distance the horizon was bright and sunny: I hoped it was a good omen.

  As we walked into the reception area of the Child and Family centre I felt my throat constrict. One of the therapists was waiting for us and I could tell she was worried, even though her mouth was nailed into the shape of a smile.

  ‘Lucy!’ she said with unconvincing cheerfulness. ‘Great to see you! It’s just me and you today. Daddy can’t make it I’m afraid, but never mind. It means I’ll have more time to focus just on you! Now you go on in and take a seat in there. I need to have a quick word with Mr and Mrs Hart.’

  ‘No,’ Lucy said. ‘I want my daddy! Where’s my daddy?’

  She sounded winded and forlorn. I wanted to hug her and tell her everything was OK but it wasn’t, and I had to let the therapist deal with this.

  ‘Like I say, he can’t make it today. He’s sent a message.’

  ‘Is he poorly? Can I speak to him?’

  Lucy’s voice had a desperate edge to it.

  ‘I’m sure you can try to call him later, after your session,’ the therapist said, flicking me an anxious look. If Dean hadn’t turned up here I didn’t feel hopeful he’d pick the phone up. I think the therapist shared my doubts.

  ‘Can I, Angela? Can I ring him?’ Lucy stared at me, her eyes begging me to give her the answer she needed to hear.

  ‘We can certainly try to get him on the phone, sweetheart. Now why don’t you go in and take a seat. The sooner you do the sooner the session can start and . . .’ I wanted to say, ‘the sooner we’ll be home and you can call your daddy,’ but I stopped myself and let my sentence trail off. God forbid, I didn’t want Lucy to suffer any more disappointment.

  Thankfully she did as I asked and went and sat down in the side room the therapist steered her towards. As soon as she was out of earshot the therapist told us that Wendy had called to say that Dean was no longer attending the sessions. ‘He thinks they are a complete waste of time, she said. He is n
ot coming today nor ever again, it seems.’

  We were gutted. We’d seen this as a golden opportunity for Lucy and her dad to work together and build on their relationship. She was in great spirits. She’d had a fantastic weekend with her granny and had been praised by her teacher, and she’d been counting down the minutes until she could see her daddy. I’d thought Bella had played a blinder fixing up this father and daughter session, but now it had all turned to dust.

  I felt incredibly sorry for Lucy and I asked how on earth we were going to tell her that her daddy had thrown the towel in like this.

  ‘Let’s see how the land lies after today,’ the therapist said wisely. ‘He might change his mind, or Wendy may have got it wrong, somehow. We need to speak to Dean himself and there is no point in upsetting Lucy until we know for certain exactly what’s going on. I’ll change the session to do some one-to-one work with Lucy and hopefully we can get back on track in due course.’

  Lucy was calm when she emerged from the forty-five-minute session. The therapist had done a good job in the circumstances, we thought. In the car on the way home Lucy remained quiet and well behaved, asking politely when she could talk to her daddy.

  ‘We’ll try him when we get in,’ I said, looking at my watch. ‘Let’s hope he’s in, but I guess it may be a bit early. He might be at work.’

  ‘Yes. I know he’s busy. I know he loves me. I know he would not want to upset me on purpose. He’s a busy man. He’s good at his job and he works very hard for the family, you know.’

  Her words didn’t sound very natural to me and I didn’t think she’d have come up with those statements all by herself. I guessed Lucy was echoing some of the positive and reasonable things the therapist had said, and that gave me an injection of optimism. I found myself daring to hope that Wendy had exaggerated how Dean felt about the meetings, and that he would attend the next session, having got over this blip. Lucy was right, after all. Her daddy loved her, and surely that would trump everything else?