The Girl Who Wanted to Belong, Book 5 Read online

  The call ended. I was stunned. Jonathan and I had been fostering for nearly ten years and never known anything like this. We’d had the odd complaint from a parent about something minor, which was never pleasant to deal with, but this was on another level. Social Services was holding an emergency meeting to discuss whether to remove our placements. Lucy and Maria could be taken away from us: it didn’t seem real.

  Jonathan was in the shop and I went straight through the second I put the phone down.

  ‘I need to talk to you urgently,’ I said, trying not to look as shaken as I felt. I must have put a brave face on because our assistant Barbara jokily raised her eyes to the ceiling and said, ‘Yes, Angela, of course I’ll hold the fort!’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘What would we do without you, Barbara?’

  ‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ she chuckled.

  We really were very lucky to have Barbara, not just because she understood we needed her to be flexible with her hours, but also because she was very good-natured and easy to get along with. We’d been friends for years and she’d worked in the shop for so long now that she was like part of the fixtures and fittings. She also understood the need for confidentiality, and knew never to ask questions about our placements.

  Jonathan and I made our way to the kitchen; I didn’t want anyone overhearing what I was about to say to him. When I relayed the conversation I could scarcely believe what I was saying.

  ‘Who has made the complaint?’ Jonathan stammered.

  ‘I don’t know. In fact I don’t even know what the complaint is about. What can possibly have happened to warrant any complaint about the care I give Lucy?’

  ‘Can’t they give us any more details?’

  ‘No, apparently not. Bella will get in touch after the meeting, to explain what’s going to happen next.’

  It was a beautiful sunny day but it felt like the north wind was blowing through the house and my blood had turned to ice in my veins. Jonathan and I looked at each other in disbelief: it felt so surreal, like we were in a scene in a film or TV drama. The colour had drained from his face and he put his hand over his mouth and shook his head.

  ‘They’ll have to take her away,’ I said robotically. ‘And Maria. That’s what happens when a complaint has been made, regardless of whether it’s true or not, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh my God. This is unbelievable.’

  Tears pricked my eyes. ‘This can’t be happening. Tell me this isn’t happening?’

  Jonathan was lost for words. He took me in his arms and hugged me tight. Neither of us spoke for what felt like a very long time. It was bad enough for Jonathan and me to go through this ordeal, but how would the girls cope with being taken away from us like this?

  19

  ‘It doesn’t make sense’

  We sat at the kitchen table for a while, drinking hot tea and picking over Bella’s phone call.

  ‘Look,’ Jonathan concluded reasonably. ‘We know these allegations – whatever they are – are nonsense. There’s nothing you’ve done to warrant any complaint being made against you.’

  ‘I know you’re right, but that’s not the point. There’s a process to go through. We know what happens next. The girls will have to be moved out while an investigation takes place. They’ll have to be interviewed, won’t they? It’s going to be so disruptive to them. And what if . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘What if it’s one of the girls who’s said this? They’ve both been known to tell fibs, Lucy especially. What if she’s made something up and told tales to someone, just for attention or because she’s got “muddled up” as she does sometimes? Maybe she’s said something to a teacher . . . or to a member of her family?’

  Jonathan’s eyes widened and he acknowledged that Lucy could have done this as a way of trying to get home to her daddy.

  ‘We know she’d move hell and high water to be with her daddy, but surely not this?’ I said.

  ‘No,’ he replied, ‘I don’t believe it. She wouldn’t do that, would she? I can’t see it, I really can’t.’

  I desperately wanted to phone Jess to find out more but of course I couldn’t. She wouldn’t be allowed to speak to me, let alone tell me anything. We had to sit tight and wait for Bella to get in touch after the emergency meeting. We imagined she’d have to talk to the girls as soon as they got home – before we’d had a chance to speak to them – so we expected to hear from her within the next few hours. We didn’t know if she’d call us first or simply turn up at the door, and all we could do was wait.

  I decided I wanted to work in the shop, to keep myself busy. Barbara was finishing at lunchtime and there were lots of bouquet orders to make up. Besides, I couldn’t think of anything worse than being in the house on my own, waiting for the phone to ring or for Bella to knock on the door. Social Services had the shop number and my mobile, so I didn’t have to stay in.

  ‘Come on,’ I said to Jonathan. ‘Let’s get to work. It’ll keep our minds off this and Barbara will be waiting to go.’

  It wasn’t easy trying to carry on as normal in the florist’s, and it seemed every conversation was designed to remind me of our predicament.

  ‘Hi Angela,’ said one of my mum’s old friends. ‘I’m after a nice, bright bunch of flowers for Maureen. Something to cheer her up.’

  ‘Oh, is she OK?’

  ‘Not really. Stuck at home waiting for the phone to ring.’ I know the feeling, I thought as the lady went on to explain her friend was waiting to hear from the hospital, about when she was getting her cataracts done.

  Another customer was Diane’s next-door neighbour, Gail, who came in to pick up a bunch of flowers for a friend’s birthday. I knew Gail well and she was a kind-hearted person, although she did like to chat about other people’s business and share her opinions. ‘I’m surprised to see both of you in here,’ she said, looking first at Jonathan and then at me. ‘I’ve met Lucy at the stables a few times. She’s a little live wire isn’t she? I don’t know how you have the time or the energy for fostering as well as running the shop. I wouldn’t have the patience to put up with a child like that; she’d drive me around the bend! You’ve still got Maria too, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Would you like me to put some ribbon on these?’

  ‘Yes please. Honestly, Angela, I really admire you and Jonathan, doing what you do. How long have you been fostering now?’

  ‘Oh, it’s coming up for about ten years. Which colour would you like?’

  ‘Let me see . . . the pale pink looks pretty, thanks. Is it really that long? Well I never. I bet you can’t remember what life was like before fostering. You probably wouldn’t know what to do with yourselves without the house full of kids! Where are the girls today then? Off out somewhere?’

  Jonathan came over and joined in the conversation, trying to wrap it up before Gail quizzed me any more. He knew I’d be feeling uncomfortable and thinking to myself, Yes, but will we be foster carers for much longer? Maybe this is the beginning of the end of our fostering careers? Maybe Lucy and Maria will be moving out tonight, and the house will feel empty?

  We waited with anticipation for Bella to call, but the phone didn’t ring.

  The girls were dropped home to us as planned that evening. They’d both had a good day and told us all about what they’d been up to. To our relief everything seemed perfectly normal and, as far as I could see, they both seemed very happy. Maria’s grandmother and Diane both chatted to us, as they had done many times before, and clearly had no idea about the complaint.

  It had been a long day for Lucy at the gymkhana and she was very tired. She had a snack and drink and went straight to bed and Maria wasn’t far behind her. Jonathan and I sat in the living room wondering what on earth was going on. Nobody had called as we expected. We double-checked all our phones for messages and we hadn’t missed anything.

  ‘This is really odd,’ I said. ‘Why hasn’t Bella
contacted us like she promised? It doesn’t make sense. If we’re under investigation, surely they wouldn’t want the girls being here with us as if nothing’s happened? Surely they need to be talking to Lucy?’

  ‘I’m as stumped as you are. Unless . . .’

  ‘Unless what?’

  ‘Unless one of the girls had already spoken to Social Services before we got the call from Bella? Maybe Bella has found something out since our conversation and now no longer needs to talk to the girls when they get home? Maybe they aren’t coming back at all?’

  I immediately said I thought this was very unlikely and Jonathan agreed with me: we were both tired and were in danger of stressing ourselves out by adding two and two and coming up with five.

  We went to bed and tried to get some rest. Jonathan dropped off eventually but I couldn’t sleep. I ran every possible scenario and explanation through my head and in the end I got up and made myself a camomile tea. When I went back to bed Jonathan was awake. He’s normally a better sleeper than I am but he said he’d been tossing and turning.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Four o’clock.’

  ‘Oh God.’

  At six o’clock there was a knock on our door.

  ‘Lucy, is that you?’

  ‘Yes. I’m wide-awake. Can I get up now?’

  I was exhausted.

  ‘No, it’s too early. Try to get a bit more sleep and if you can’t then you can find something to do quietly, but it’s too early to get up.’

  ‘OK.’

  She let me steer her back to her bed. Her bedroom light was on and Lucy was wearing a pair of short pyjamas with a vest top. I couldn’t help scanning her arms and legs, to check for marks, in case the allegation was about her being physically harmed. There wasn’t a blemish on her, though I wasn’t really sure what I was looking for. Mistreatment could mean anything: physical abuse, verbal abuse – I didn’t want to think about all the possible reasons you could be accused of mistreating a child.

  ‘Night night,’ she said. ‘I love you Angela.’

  At least she’s her usual self, I thought. That’s a blessing. That’s the main thing.

  Unbelievably, it took another two days before we heard any more about the ‘investigation’.

  I couldn’t stand the wait any longer.

  ‘I’m going to call Bella, she should have called us by now,’ I said to Jonathan before he started work that morning.

  ‘What are you going to say?’

  ‘Ask what’s going on, of course. How can they keep us hanging around, waiting in limbo like this?’

  I called Bella and was told that she was on sick leave and had been for a couple of days. Dismayed, I left a message for someone else to call me from her office, but nobody did. A few hours later I took a call from Jess. I was surprised to hear her voice, as I understood we were not allowed to talk to our support social worker while the complaint was being looked into.

  ‘Angela,’ she said. ‘How are you? I’m so sorry you’ve gone through all this worry.’

  ‘What’s going on Jess? Bella said she was going to visit me after the meeting. It’s been two days and we’ve heard nothing.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, but this has all been a false alarm, I didn’t realise she’d not contacted you. The allegations have nothing to do with you, or Lucy. There’s been a mistake.’

  ‘A mistake? What do you mean?’

  I was flabbergasted and confused.

  ‘So who were they about? Has Lucy been mistreated? I don’t understand. How can a mistake like this happen? We’ve been worried sick.’

  ‘I’m still waiting to hear the details. There appears to have been a mix up between you and Wendy.’

  Jess went on to explain that a complaint had apparently been made about Wendy by a neighbour, but unfortunately the caller had said ‘the child who is in foster care’ when really she meant Gemma.

  ‘Consequently the complaint got passed to the wrong office. Rest assured you are not under investigation. You and Jonathan should never have been involved in the first place. I’m sorry I’ve got to go now as I’ve got a meeting, but I hope I’ve put your mind at rest.’

  I could feel the stress very slowly leaving my body but nevertheless I still felt very wound up. I felt like I hadn’t slept for a week because I’d found it very hard to concentrate on anything other than this ‘investigation’.

  I told Jess I was relieved and grateful for her call but not happy at all. A swift apology like this was no compensation for the angst we’d gone through.

  ‘You have put my mind at rest, but we’ve been through a horrible ordeal. We’ve been dreading a knock on the door. For all we knew both girls were going to be removed. It’s been an absolute nightmare, and what about our records? I hope there won’t be anything on our file that could be misconstrued in the future? I want this to be wiped off completely.’

  I couldn’t help reacting this way. I’d been on pins for days and I couldn’t say nothing and let Jess dash off the phone. Somebody needed to stand up and be counted here. How could this have been allowed to happen? I also wanted to ask about the situation with Wendy and Gemma, but I knew better: Jess would not be able to discuss the details. We would have to trust Social Services to carry out their investigations and inform us if the outcome of their investigation into Wendy affected Lucy in any way.

  Jess apologised again, assured me this would not tarnish our records and then said she really did have to dash, grumbling about the number of meetings she had to attend that day.

  When I passed everything on to Jonathan he let out a long, deep breath and then went very quiet.

  ‘Un-be-lieeeeve-able,’ he said. ‘I’ve got no words. Whoever’s responsible for this needs to have a long, hard look at themselves. Have they got any idea what they’ve put us through?’

  We heard nothing more for quite some time but clearly it wasn’t serious because the children all stayed with Wendy and Dean. At least Wendy wasn’t mistreating any of the kids; that was the only positive thing I could think of. The children were being properly cared for and that meant, when the time was right, Lucy would still be able to go home.

  20

  ‘D’you think he’ll have forgotten what I look like?’

  Lucy stuck to her guns about wanting to stay with her granny rather than coming on holiday with us, and that’s what she did.

  Maria was quite happy that Lucy wasn’t joining us in the log cabin after all, and the break did us all the power of good. Maria had her moments, as ever, but as Jonathan politely put it, ‘a change is as good as a rest’. The weather was great, we had lots of long walks and bike rides around the woodland resort we stayed at, and we even tried our hand at windsurfing on a nearby lake.

  Meanwhile, Lucy was delighted to be spending time with her granny. Ivy also had one of her sisters staying with her, Lucy’s great-aunt, Marge, who was ten years younger than Ivy, very sprightly and slightly eccentric. When we dropped Lucy off, I could see that she and Marge sparked off each other very well. They shared a love of the outdoors and Marge was very keen on bird watching. She took Lucy on country walks and they also spent a lot of time in Ivy’s little garden, peering through binoculars. Lucy helped Marge put up a new bird table for Ivy and Marge helped Lucy start a log, recording which birds they’d seen and teaching her about different breeds. I think the two of them had something else in common: I learned that Marge also had an aggravating streak, like Lucy, and Ivy was given to frequently telling her younger sister to ‘Stop that carping!’ and ‘Wind your neck in!’

  Anyhow, the dynamics worked, and as a result Lucy ended up spending nearly four weeks at her grandmother’s house, as she didn’t want to come straight back when we returned from our holiday. She phoned us regularly to tell us what she was doing and she always sounded cheerful and upbeat. Jonathan and I were becoming quietly optimistic once more.

  I heard nothing but good reports about Lucy from Ivy, and she seemed to be on an even keel and behav
ing really well. We hoped that Wendy and Dean had also had a good summer and would be feeling much more positive and ready to start afresh with Lucy. We’d had no contact with them at all, but Ivy told me she’d spoken to Dean one day. ‘Can’t understand the man,’ she commented to me. ‘He was asking all about his “little princess”. I told him he’s missing out on her growing up. She’s growing up fast and you don’t get that time back. If you ask me, Wendy and Dean need their heads knocking together. No disrespect to you, Angela, but Lucy should be at home with them and the other kids.’

  ‘Have you said this to Dean?’ I ventured.

  ‘’Course I have. You know me; I’m not backwards at coming forward. I don’t get anything back though. No idea what’s going on in that man’s head. No wonder my Noreen left him. Like talking to a brick wall. Anyway, I’ll put Lucy on the phone. Here she is . . .’

  Wendy and Dean didn’t turn up at the review meeting held at the end of the summer. This was very disappointing, particularly as they’d promised they would be there and didn’t cancel until the very last minute, making it too late to reschedule. We’d had very little contact with Social Services for most of the school holidays. Bella moved on to start a new career back in her native Scotland and Lucy was still waiting to be assigned a new social worker – something we only found out about in the days leading up to the review meeting. Meanwhile Jess had an operation in July, after which she spent the best part of a month on leave, recuperating. She had only recently returned to work and it was good to see her again and to have her support at this meeting. Luckily her absence hadn’t been a problem to Jonathan and me because, after the stress of the investigation that never was, everything had run smoothly over the summer. We had the usual emergency numbers to call if need be, but we had no cause to call Social Services and were left to our own devices.

  Now, however, arriving at the meeting to discover Wendy and Dean had ducked out at very short notice, I wondered if Social Services had let things slip because of the staffing issues they had. I kicked myself, wishing I’d been more proactive, chasing up Social Services to check on Wendy and Dean or even calling them myself in the run-up to this meeting. I said this to Jonathan quietly while we waited for everyone else to assemble. He told me I mustn’t beat myself up, saying that if Wendy and Dean had made their mind up it was unlikely they would have been swayed by any social worker, senior manager or anybody else – and certainly not by us. He was probably right, but it didn’t make me feel any better. This was an important meeting. The fact they hadn’t bothered to attend didn’t bode well at all and I was very worried about what this meant for Lucy’s future. The chances of her returning home in time for the new school year in early September – which I had hoped might just be possible – were looking extremely slim, if not impossible. It was already fast approaching the end of August and if Wendy and Dean couldn’t even get themselves here, how were things ever going to move forward?