The Girl Who Wanted to Belong, Book 5 Read online

  By the time we got home I had convinced myself that Dean couldn’t possibly mean what he said about the sessions being a waste of time. Even if he did feel that way at the moment, it surely couldn’t mean he’d given up completely, because how could he? Lucy was his own flesh and blood. He had to fight for her, not run away or wash his hands of the situation.

  As soon as we got home Jonathan headed straight back out again as he needed to get to the wholesaler’s before collecting Maria from school. It was too late to take Lucy back to school, and in any case I couldn’t imagine she’d be in the mood to learn. I left her to make the call to her dad in private, and she picked up the phone in the hall. I went in the kitchen and put the kettle on but before it had boiled I heard a loud crash in the hallway. When I ran to investigate I saw the phone on the floor, where presumably Lucy had thrown it. She must have done this with some force because part of the plastic casing had fallen off the handset. Lucy was running upstairs and when she saw me she shouted, ‘I hate Wendy! She’s a cow! I hate her! I want my daddy! I want my daddy. I WANT MY DADDY!’

  I heard her bedroom door slam and, after picking the phone up and putting what was left of it on its cradle, I went up and knocked gently on Lucy’s door.

  ‘Can I come in, sweetheart?’

  There was no reply.

  ‘Lucy, are you OK? Can I talk to you?’

  ‘No! Talk to Wendy!’

  ‘Talk to Wendy? So it was Wendy on the phone just now, not Daddy?’

  ‘Yes. Talk to Wendy!’

  Seconds later I heard the phone ring. I thought about leaving it but I sensed I needed to get it, so I dashed to my bedroom on the floor below and answered it.

  ‘Angela? Is that you? We’ve had enough, we have.’

  ‘Wendy? What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean we need a total break from Lucy. I’ve spoken to Social Services. Me and Dean can’t be doing with all the stress she causes. We – he – needs a break. He thinks those sessions are a complete waste of time and he’s not going again. We’re nowhere near ready to have her back home. There’s trouble every time. We – he – wants a complete break, and then we’ll see how we feel.’

  ‘Have you told Lucy this?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve explained the situation to her.’

  ‘What exactly did you say, because she’s very upset?’

  ‘I told her we’ll see her next in the summer holidays, hopefully. If she behaves.’

  ‘Summer holidays? When in the holidays, exactly?’ My immediate thought was that the school summer holiday was more than six weeks long, but I could hardly think straight. ‘Do you mean at the start of the holiday, when the schools break up?’ I stuttered.

  My head was banging. I wondered how Lucy would cope, having her life put on hold like this. It was still June – July or August would feel like an eternity away to Lucy. And now it was only going to be for a visit, not for a move home as she hoped. We were back to square one.

  ‘No, we’re away at the start of the holiday,’ Wendy said breezily. ‘We’re taking the kids to Spain. We’ll be back around the middle of August. It’ll have to be after that.’

  Lucy’s one of the kids, I thought.

  ‘Did you tell Lucy this?’

  ‘Yes and she was very rude to me. She said I was mean to not let her come on holiday with us. She called me “mean and horrible” and blamed me for everything, which just goes to show that she’s not ready to move back in with us. She can’t control her mouth. She’s disruptive. Nothing has changed. We know that, and that’s why Dean can’t be bothered with those useless meetings any more. We think it’s for the best, Angela. Dean’s tried his best and he didn’t want it to come to this, but unfortunately it has. He’s in complete agreement with me, and supported me when I called Social Services to tell them our decision.’

  I was lost for words. I felt heartbroken for Lucy and suspicious of Wendy. Her last statement smacked of manipulative behaviour. It didn’t surprise me in the least that Wendy was the one calling Social Services to report on her and Dean’s supposedly joint decision. My instincts told me Dean had been led to this point by Wendy. She wore the trousers, that’s for sure.

  ‘I need to go to Lucy,’ I said. ‘Like I say, she’s very upset. She was hoping to move back home for good in the summer. This is a major setback for her.’

  ‘Well I don’t know where she got that from! We’re a million miles away from having her home.’

  I wanted to say, ‘That’s what we’ve all supposedly been working towards for the past few months. That’s what we all agreed with Social Services. Her placement was meant to be for two to three months, remember? That’s where Lucy got that impression from!’ Of course I bit my lip. Wendy was not being reasonable and I didn’t want to get into an argument.

  I swallowed hard and told Wendy I had not expected this at all. ‘I hoped today would be a good day. I hoped Dean and Lucy could have a good counselling session and get things moving forward again.’

  Wendy adopted a sympathetic tone but what she said showed no empathy or understanding and was actually unreasonable to the point of delusion. ‘As I’m sure you know better than anyone, Angela, you have to be honest with kids and you can’t give them false hope. That’s all today would have given her had Dean turned up, and that’s not fair, is it? We don’t want Lucy to be disappointed or upset. This move home simply isn’t going to happen overnight. She’s not ready to move back in any time soon. There’s a lot of work to be done. We’ll see her in August, after our holiday, and take it from there. I can’t stop her phoning her dad but I think it would be best if she didn’t. It’s best for everyone to go cold turkey I’m afraid, Angela. It’s the only way. I’ve already told the kids and they’re OK with it.’

  Wendy had lapsed into speaking so dispassionately it was as if she were cancelling a standing order at the bank rather than stopping Lucy from seeing her daddy and siblings for the best part of two months.

  I was extremely angry but I couldn’t afford to get on the wrong side of Wendy. I brought the phone call to an end as quickly as possible. I needed to draw breath and think about how best to cope with this turn of events. What would I say to Lucy? I’d have to talk to Jess, as soon as possible. She was back from her annual leave and the placement meeting to review Lucy’s case was now in the diary at long last. I wondered when Wendy had called Social Services with this bombshell, and what their response would be.

  Jonathan was still out at the wholesaler’s and I really wished he were home. I wanted to discuss this with him more than anyone else, and I also needed a hug. It’s at times like this I realise how much I appreciate that we share our fostering responsibilities, and how much I admire carers who work alone or don’t have the support that Jonathan and I give each other.

  I went back upstairs, feeling shaken and stunned. Lucy refused to open her bedroom door when I knocked and called her name.

  ‘Has she told you?’ she shouted. ‘They’re going on holiday without me! I can’t go home! I’m stuck here! I want my daddy! I just want my daddy!’

  ‘Can I come in and talk to you?’

  ‘No. No you can’t.’

  ‘Please, Lucy. D’you need a hug? I know I’d like one.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘OK. I’m going to do some cooking now, sweetheart. Please come down and help me if you feel like it. Or just come down and talk to me, when you’re ready. I’m making quiche for our dinner later. You can make something with the leftover pastry, if you want to. I quite fancy some jam tarts.’

  Lucy appeared after about twenty minutes, just as I was thinking I’d better go and check on her.

  ‘Urgh! What’s that smell?’

  ‘I don’t know. Is it the chopped onion?’

  She walked over to the kitchen counter where the diced onion was piled on a plate, sniffed dramatically and gave an exaggerated look of disgust.

  ‘Urgh! Urgh! That totally reeks. Can I make jam tarts? I don’t want to go anywhere near thos
e smelly onions.’

  I was very happy to set Lucy up with a ball of shortcrust pastry, a floured board and a collection of pastry cutters. She looked in the cupboard and picked out a pot of jam my mum had made the previous year, put on an apron and washed her hands without me having to remind her. Then she worked diligently, chatting about this and that and asking sweetly if we could go swimming again soon, and if she could visit my mum. This was something she really enjoyed. Lucy would help her with the garden, even using the lawn mower under supervision, and Mum was very pleased with all the help and said her garden was all the better for it.

  Lucy didn’t say a word about Wendy or her dad and I didn’t press her: it was best she broached the subject, if she wanted to talk about it, and so I simply reminded her she could talk to me about anything, any time. When the jam tarts were in the oven she asked if she could call her granny. As usual I said she could use the phone in another room, but she sat at the kitchen table while I cleared up and put the quiche to one side, to cook later, when Jonathan and Maria were back.

  ‘Yes Granny. I had a lovely time. Can I come and stay with you in the summer holidays? No. I’m not going on holiday with Daddy. It’s OK. How long can I stay with you? OK. I’ve just made jam tarts. I miss you Granny. Bye. Love you too.’

  Lucy informed me that she was spending ‘all the summer holiday’ with her granny and then asked if she could go over to Diane’s before dinner, as they had a new pony she wanted to meet. I called Diane, who readily agreed, and then I dropped Lucy over to the stables, promising her she could have forty minutes before I’d need to collect her. While she was out I managed to get hold of Jess. She hadn’t heard a thing and said she’d find out who Wendy had spoken to when she called Social Services.

  ‘Leave it with me,’ she said. ‘And well done, Angela.’

  ‘Well done?’

  ‘Yes, well done for how you’ve handled this. It can’t have been easy having that conversation with Wendy. Like I say, leave it with me. Obviously I’ll get back to you before the placement meeting. Given the circumstances, are you and Jonathan happy to keep Lucy on for a longer-term placement?’

  ‘Of course. Jonathan’s been out this afternoon and doesn’t know what Wendy’s said to Lucy, but I’m sure he’ll be in agreement. We both want the best for Lucy. I’ll speak to him this evening.’

  ‘OK. I’m sure Bella will be in touch too; she’ll need to talk to Lucy. Do you think Lucy would be happy to stay with you for longer?

  ‘Yes, I think so. We do get on and we’re very fond of her. She’s comfortable with us, and I think we cope quite well with her aggravating ways. The irritating behaviour we see when she’s not busy certainly wouldn’t put us off looking after her.’

  ‘OK, that’s good to know. Thanks, Angela. It’s just as well you are so laid back and easy-going.’

  I was surprised to be described in this way and gave a thin laugh. I don’t really consider myself to be particularly laid back and easy-going, but I took the compliment as it was meant. I think it’s probably more accurate to say I know how to keep my feet on the ground and my head cool in times of trouble and change. Jonathan’s the same – we’ve joked many times that we’re like swans on the water. On the face of it we’re serenely gliding through even the most difficult of waters, yet under the surface we’re paddling away furiously. I guess having a ‘laid back’ facade is something we’ve grown into, as it’s never helpful for the children to see us flapping or fretting. They need to have complete faith in us and to view us as competent, reliable adults they can rely on at all times, come what may.

  I made myself a coffee and sat in the kitchen, reflecting on the twists and turns of the day. My heart was full to the brim with worry about Lucy’s future. I had spent the last few months working so hard to help her return home sooner rather than later. That was our role: we were to help integrate Lucy back into the family unit. We’d taken on that role and trusted in the plan, but now it had been derailed and everything was in the air. Worse still, I began to wonder if moving home was actually the right thing for Lucy at all.

  What would happen when she eventually moved back in, whenever that may be? Would Lucy and Wendy ever get along, and if not, how would a permanently tense or even hostile environment impact on Lucy? She needed to be shown love and kindness and her self-esteem needed building up, not knocking down. Now, after the brusque and, frankly, cold-hearted way Wendy had spoken on the phone, I was beginning to wonder if Lucy was ever going to get the affection and understanding she needed from her stepmother. I had no doubt her daddy loved her, and her siblings too, but was that enough? Dean allowed Wendy to rule the roost. What chance did Lucy have if her stepmother continued to think so lowly of her and take every opportunity to score points and make criticisms? All Lucy wanted was to belong. Why couldn’t Wendy help her fit in?

  When I spoke to Jonathan he immediately agreed that we would continue to care for Lucy for as long as necessary.

  ‘Absolutely, one hundred per cent,’ he said. ‘She needs all the stability and support she can get.’

  Lucy seemed happy and relaxed when I brought her back from Diane’s and was talking nineteen to the dozen about the new pony. However, at bedtime her mood suddenly dipped. She kicked Maria’s bedroom door for no apparent reason and when Maria complained, Lucy told her she was a ‘cry baby’, which of course infuriated the older girl.

  ‘What’s your problem?’ Maria said. ‘Why are you always the one causing trouble? You know what you are, don’t you? You’re a stirrer! You’re a wind-up merchant!’

  Jonathan dashed up the stairs and managed to defuse the situation. He told both girls that if they behaved themselves we would visit a newly opened leisure centre across town at the weekend. It had all kinds of fancy slides and a range of diving boards and he said he’d heard that the main pool was fantastic for doing lengths, as it was Olympicsized.

  ‘Why do we have to wait until the weekend?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Because it’ll give you both time to behave and earn the treat.’

  Lucy kicked her own bedroom door and told Jonathan he was boring and mean while Maria stayed quiet.

  ‘Kicking the door is not going to get you anywhere. I suggest you stop now and go and calm down.’

  ‘What are you going to do about it if I don’t?’

  ‘Nothing. We won’t be going swimming at all if you continue with this behaviour.’

  ‘Says who? How about I’ll carry on causing trouble until you take me?’

  She kicked the door again. She was trying to provoke a reaction but Jonathan didn’t rise to it and took a step back.

  ‘I bet you’ll give in. I bet if I wind you up enough you’ll give in and take me anyway, just to get me out of your hair!’

  Jonathan shrugged. ‘It doesn’t work like that, Lucy. If you don’t work with us and behave yourself then you will be the one who loses out. I am very serious. Behave yourself, or you will be the one who loses.’

  ‘Says who?’ she goaded, adding sneakily, ‘It’s worked for me before, don’t you know.’

  I’d followed Jonathan up the stairs and I was standing shoulder to shoulder with him now. Maria was standing outside her bedroom door, looking with amusement at Lucy being told off by Jonathan.

  ‘I’ll scream and scream and scream until I’m sick!’ Maria said mockingly. She’d recently watched an old scene from Just William on TV and I instantly knew she was trying to shame Lucy by comparing her to Violet Elizabeth – the spoilt little girl who was William’s nemesis.

  Fortunately Lucy didn’t get the reference. She frowned at Maria and told her to shut up, but Maria said it was time for Lucy to shut up. ‘You should know them by now,’ she cautioned. ‘They won’t be taking either of us swimming if you carry on.’

  ‘Bet they do.’

  ‘No, Lucy. You need to stop now. Blackmailing isn’t going to work. Haven’t you learned anything since you’ve been here?’

  Jonathan interjected before eith
er girl spoke again.

  ‘I’ve just thought, Angela, if we don’t go swimming at the weekend, you and me could go to the cinema together. There are a few films I’d like to see. Do you think your mother would be able to babysit?’

  ‘I’m sure she would. I know she’s free this weekend.’

  We smiled at each other.

  ‘I’m going to bed!’ Maria snapped.

  ‘So am I!’ Lucy said, and they slammed their doors in unison, leaving Jonathan and me to walk along the landing talking very loudly about how lovely it would be if the girls were extremely well behaved and we could all go to the swimming pool and the cinema together.

  At midnight there was a knock on our bedroom door.

  ‘Angela, please can you change my bed?’

  It was Lucy, looking very sorry for herself. ‘Sorry. Didn’t do it on purpose.’

  ‘It’s OK, sweetheart. It’s an accident. Come on, we’ll have it changed in no time.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she whispered.

  I’d shown Lucy where the linen was kept and encouraged her to help herself if she ever needed fresh sheets but she must have forgotten or decided she’d rather I did it for her. I didn’t mind.

  ‘You’re nice and kind.’ Lucy muttered the words very softly as we padded along the landing, and then she took hold of my hand very gently. As quiet as the words were, they rang loudly in my heart. I squeezed her hand tenderly back, telling her she was very nice and kind too.

  17

  ‘Grown-ups always change their minds’

  With it now looking likely that Lucy would be with us all summer, and beyond, I decided to call the travel agent and see if we could potentially take Lucy with us on the holiday we’d booked before she came to stay. I was told it would be no problem at all: the log cabin we’d reserved already had a double room for Jonathan and me and a twin room the girls could share. It would just be a formality to add Lucy to our party, and we could do this any time. This was something I’d mention at the meeting, as Wendy and Dean plus Social Services would need to approve this, provided Lucy wanted to join us.