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  ‘Funny how Dad likes birds!’ Vicky laughed.

  ‘Isn’t it just!’ I smiled. ‘And it was funny about the crumble as well, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I know. He’s also taught me a good trick to help me cut out smoking,’ she said, adding that Vincent had also been a smoker since his teens, but had managed to stop when he left the Army.

  I knew Vicky was still having the odd cigarette. Her New Year’s resolution to quit had lasted less than a week, and so I very much hoped Vincent’s input might make a difference.

  ‘What’s his secret then?’

  ‘Well, he buys a quarter of pineapple cubes and a quarter of cola cubes from the corner shop, and whenever he fancies a fag he has one of those instead. I’ve tried it, and it works!’

  ‘Well I never! That’s great. Er, have you wanted a cigarette often?’

  ‘Quite a bit.’

  ‘So have you been feeling a bit stressed, or homesick?’

  ‘No, not really. I mean, I miss you and Jonathan, obviously, and Lorraine and everybody really, but I’m really enjoying myself. It’s just a bit funny being in a strange place, with no friends.’

  Her frankness reassured me, though I still had plenty of doubts and worries. Everything seemed to have happened so fast, and I desperately didn’t want things to go wrong, for any of us. When the week was over I drove back on my own to pick Vicky up, as Jonathan needed to be in the shop and there had been no offer from Vincent’s side of any help with transport. I didn’t mind. The goodbye hug she gave her dad was very different to the one when she’d first arrived, and I was pleased to have witnessed it. Vicky flung her arms around Vincent enthusiastically, showing genuine affection.

  ‘See you soon, Dad!’ she beamed. ‘Thanks for everything.’

  Carol was as pleasant as she had been when we first met, offering me a cup of tea and asking if I wanted a sandwich.

  ‘No thanks. I’ve brought a packed lunch to have on the way back,’ I said. ‘But that’s very kind.’

  It was only when Carol called Matty to say goodbye that I detected a little tension. Matty very reluctantly appeared from his bedroom at the back of the bungalow, and said an extremely curt goodbye to Vicky, before turning on his heel.

  ‘What was all that about?’ I asked Vicky when we set off.

  ‘I don’t think he likes me,’ she said. ‘I heard him asking Carol when I was leaving, and he knew I could hear.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame. I suppose it must be quite a big thing for him, though, suddenly having you arrive on the scene.

  He’s been the only child all this time.’

  ‘He was nasty,’ Vicky muttered.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘When we were on our own in the kitchen one morning he said I shouldn’t trust my dad.’

  ‘Did he? Why?’

  My heart sank, and I was very afraid of what Vicky might say next.

  ‘He said he’s got mental problems, not just physical ones. And he asked me if I believed the story about him fighting for custody. I told him that of course I did. Why would he make that up?’

  ‘What did Matty say to that?’

  ‘He said, “If he wanted you that much, I think he’d have tried harder to find you.”’

  ‘And what did you say back?’

  Vicky took a deep breath.

  ‘I didn’t answer him. I wasn’t going to waste my breath.’

  With that she plugged in her earphones and listened to a cassette on an old Walkman that her dad had given her, which she was thrilled with. I decided to leave her to it; I was confident Vicky knew she could talk to me again whenever she felt ready.

  ‘Can I go back at Easter?’ Vicky asked when we finally got home.

  ‘Yes, love, if your dad and Carol are happy to have you.’

  ‘Yes, they are. They said I can stay whenever I want. Would you be able to drive me there again?’

  ‘I’m sure that can be arranged. We’re in Florida for a fortnight but you get nearly three weeks off as it happens, as there are also a couple of staff training days added on to the end of your Easter break. I’m sure we can fix something up. You’re not worried about Matty?’

  ‘Nah, he’s just jealous. I saw his face when Dad gave me the Walkman.’

  ‘Oh dear, that’s unfortunate.’

  ‘He can like it or lump it as far as I’m concerned. I don’t even care if there’s some truth in what he says. The important thing is I’ve found my dad now, and I’m not going to let anyone spoil that.’

  Vicky and I had a meeting with Hayley following her week away. She reiterated everything she had told me, saying she was very happy with how things had gone, but omitting to mention what had happened with Matty.

  ‘Would you like to live with your father full time?’ Hayley asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Vicky said emphatically, her eyes widening. ‘Am I allowed to?’

  I felt my throat go dry.

  ‘Yes. Your father has told us he’s happy for you to move in, whenever you want.’

  ‘What, really? You mean now?

  ‘Well, we would have to find you a school place first, so I can’t give you an exact date. Realistically, it is likely to be at the start of the summer term.’

  ‘After Easter? That’s a long way off. Mind you, at least I’ll still get to go to Florida!’

  Vicky grinned and looked at me.

  ‘That’s great, isn’t it, Angela?’ she said.

  ‘Wonderful,’ I replied, though needless to say it wasn’t great for me, not at all. I would miss Vicky dreadfully, and I also had misgivings; I felt it was too soon for Vincent to make such a big decision, though of course it wasn’t my place to say so. My opinion didn’t count, and I was not going to rock the boat by sharing it. Hayley was the professional here, and if she and her well-trained colleagues in Social Services were supportive of this plan, who was I to argue?

  Before she left Hayley asked if she could have a quiet word with me, once Vicky was out of the room. For a second I naively wondered if she was going to check how I was feeling about the situation, or canvas my opinion about Vincent taking Vicky in. I was wrong.

  ‘I have some news about Michelle,’ Hayley said unexpectedly.

  I could tell from the look on her face that this was not going to be good, and I braced myself.

  ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘She is pregnant,’ Hayley announced.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. The baby is due in a couple of months. Did you know anything about this?’

  ‘No, I didn’t!’ I said indignantly, suddenly realising that Hayley wasn’t telling me this to keep me updated, but rather because she was required to do so. I felt judged, in fact, and my gut reaction was to stand up for myself.

  ‘As you know I did report that I had heard Michelle’s mother was allowing her to sleep with her boyfriend on her weekend visits, but I only found out about this after her placement with us had broken down.’

  ‘Michelle fell pregnant when she was living with you, Angela,’ Hayley said sombrely. ‘I’ll make a note that you had no knowledge of this, and I’ll be in touch about Vicky leaving.

  The term times are different where her father lives, so we might need a bit of luck with finding a school place.’

  Hayley fished her car keys out of her bag and stood up.

  ‘Hang on,’ I said, reeling at all the news. ‘Vicky has got her exams next year, so we need to make sure she can continue with the same subjects, and the same exam boards. You can’t just put her in any school!’

  ‘We’ll do our best to find the most suitable school place for Vicky, of course, but as I’m sure you know our priority is to return her to her parent. It may be a case of Hobson’s choice.’

  My heart tightened in my chest. Vicky had made such good progress at school, and I really didn’t want her education to suffer. I didn’t want Vicky to suffer in any way whatsoever. I felt fiercely protective of her and also very upset at the prospect of losin
g her.

  ‘And Michelle?’ I gasped, exasperated. ‘What’s going to happen now? Is she staying with her mother? Is she keeping the baby?

  ‘I can’t tell you that, Angela,’ she said, giving me what seemed to be a slightly disapproving look.

  I wasn’t sure if Hayley was intimating that my question was inappropriate or, worse, that she was being openly critical of the fact Michelle had fallen pregnant while under my care. Either way, I was left feeling rattled and uneasy, and with an uncomfortable knot in my stomach. After Hayley drove off I caught a look at myself in the long mirror in our hallway. At a glance I looked the same as usual. My dark brown hair, parted on the side, fell in natural waves to my jaw line, just as it always had. My make-up was minimal; the dab of blusher, scant coat of mascara and lick of lip gloss I applied each morning were barely visible, which was exactly how I liked it. I somehow looked different though, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

  Something’s changed, Angela, I thought to myself as I stared back at my reflection.

  I’d gone through so much since becoming a foster carer, and particularly since Vicky’s arrival. My general appearance had stayed the same, of course, but something had changed within me, and Hayley’s visit had just made me realise it. The brisk way Hayley had dished out the alarming news about Vicky’s relocation and Michelle’s pregnancy had upset me. I knew she was only doing her job, and that she had to conduct herself in a professional manner, but I could have cried, and the old me would have cried. Now, however, despite feeling hurt and shocked I could feel a powerful rush of determination coursing through my body. I wasn’t going to crumple in the face of yet more blows; I was in too deep, and I was not giving up, however testing this was. I raised my chin and put my shoulders back proudly as I looked myself in the eye. There was a steely spark there that I didn’t have before. I’d learned so much, and I’d toughened up; that was what had changed since I’d embarked on this journey.

  Fostering wasn’t about me and my sensibilities. If I’m very honest, at the start I had wanted to enjoy the rewards of caring for kids as much as I wanted to care for them. I still wanted the benefits, of course, because nothing beats the satisfaction gained from helping a child, but now I understood very clearly that in order to earn the rewards I needed to be able to take the kicks in the stomach and the stabs to the heart. That’s the name of the game in foster care, and I knew that now, without a shadow of a doubt.

  ‘Please don’t even think about telling me this is the final straw,’ I said to Jonathan as soon as I told him about Hayley’s visit.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I know what you are going to say, but I’ve made my mind up, Jonathan. We went into this to help kids. We thought it would be a heck of a lot easier than it is, but d’you know what? We still want to help kids, don’t we?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘That’s agreed then. Just because it’s harder than we thought, we mustn’t stop. Otherwise we’d have been doing this for selfish reasons.’

  Jonathan thought long and hard about what I’d said. He was still catching up with Michelle’s latest news, and the fact Vicky was making plans to live with her dad, so it was an awful lot for him to deal with. I wouldn’t normally put him on the spot like this, but I guess it shows how passionately I felt about what we were doing, and where I wanted our lives to go next.

  ‘Will you stand by me?’ I asked bluntly. ‘I want to carry on fostering, come what may.’

  ‘I can’t say that yet,’ he replied. ‘Let’s wait until Vicky has left and see how we feel.’

  I knew he was right to be cautious like this, but I also knew I was not going to change my mind. Fostering was my destiny. I had never felt more certain of anything in my life.

  Vicky got herself a boyfriend in the March. He was called Scot, and she’d known him for a couple of years through the youth club. My mother, of all people, was the first to know as she bumped into the two of them holding hands in town one Saturday.

  ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your companion?’ my mother had said, which prompted Vicky to blush, roll her eyes and mutter, ‘This is Scot, this is Thelma.’

  ‘Before your mum tells you, I have got a boyfriend, and his name is Scot,’ Vicky announced to me when she got home that afternoon.

  ‘Oh that’s nice, love,’ I said. ‘What’s he like? When do I get to meet him?’

  ‘He’s coming over later, after dinner, if that’s OK?’

  ‘Great! What are you doing?’

  ‘Just staying in my room, listening to music.’

  ‘OK.’

  This was all new territory to me, and I discussed it with Jonathan.

  ‘Do you think it’s OK to let them go upstairs together?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, I think Vicky’s a sensible girl. We know what she thought about Michelle on that subject. I guess we should just make sure we check on them.’

  ‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘The last thing I want to do is fall out with her now, but her health and safety comes first, needless to say.’

  My mother was coming round later that evening too. She had taken delivery of several boxes of belongings from my brother Andrew’s home, and had asked me to help her go through them. It wasn’t a job I was looking forward to; I was dreading it, in fact. When the doorbell rang, about half an hour after we’d finished our Saturday treat of fish and chips, without thinking I said to Vicky, ‘Oh that’ll be your gentleman caller.’

  Vicky stopped dead in her tracks, dropping the tea towel she was holding onto the kitchen floor.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.

  It was as if she’d been struck by a thunderbolt. Vicky had a terrified look in her eyes and stared straight through me.

  ‘Vicky? What on earth’s happened, sweetheart?’

  The next moment Jonathan and my mother appeared.

  ‘Look what the wind blew in!’ Jonathan joked.

  ‘Oh! Mum! I thought it was Vicky’s boyfriend at the door.’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint!’ she replied, looking at Vicky. ‘Oh, what’s the matter?’

  ‘Vicky?’ Jonathan said. ‘What is the matter? Can you hear me?’

  Looking at my mum I began to explain that this had just happened, and that Vicky had frozen just a moment before.

  ‘I said to Vicky “that’ll be your boyfriend at the door” and then this happened,’ I said.

  Vicky began turning her head ever so slowly in my direction, clicking it round, half inch by half inch.

  ‘That’s not what you said,’ she said almost inaudibly, when her eyes were finally in line with mine.

  ‘Well I’m really sorry, love, that’s what I meant to say.’

  Vicky had gone grey and all expression had fallen from her face.

  ‘What exactly did you say then, Angela?’ my mother asked, looking concerned and confused.

  ‘Well, like I say, I said . . . oh, I remember now. I said: “That’ll be your gentleman caller.”’

  Vicky gasped when I repeated those words, and I suddenly realised my mistake. Brenda’s visitors had been referred to as gentleman callers. My remark must have triggered a memory, and I could have kicked myself for being so careless. It was not even an expression I normally used; I think I must have only said it because I had my mother on my mind, as it was the kind of thing she might say.

  ‘Vicky, love, I’m sorry. Come and sit down.’

  I cupped both my hands under her elbows and guided Vicky to a kitchen chair.

  ‘Just take a deep breath,’ I said. ‘Just breathe.’

  I indicated to my mother and Jonathan that they should leave us to it, and I heard them climb the stairs to the lounge. As soon as we were alone, Vicky focused her gaze on me expectantly.

  ‘You look a bit better, love,’ I said. ‘You’re doing fine. We can sit here for as long as we need to.’

  ‘When will it stop!’ she suddenly blurted out.

  ‘You’ve been through so much, it
’s no wonder you’re a bit het up.’

  ‘Het up?’ Vicky repeated, sounding quizzical.

  ‘You know, jumpy, on edge.’

  ‘I know what it means!’ she snapped. ‘But it’s more than that, Angela.’

  Vicky fell silent and I didn’t speak either, wanting her to take her time, and not wishing to antagonise her further.

  Eventually Vicky broke the silence.

  ‘I thought it would get better, but whenever I’m reminded of her I’m still terrified. It’s like she’s haunting me.’

  ‘Well she’s not,’ I said quite firmly. ‘Your mother can’t touch you or speak to you or send you outside or do any of the things she used to do.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve tried to tell myself. I thought I could even wear my hair down after she died, but I can’t even do that! I’m still scared. It’s not fair! It’s torture!’

  I thought about the day of her mother’s funeral, when Vicky had blow-dried her hair into a bob. It had been the one and only time she had worn her hair down, but she’d tied it up ever since.

  ‘I thought it looked lovely when you wore your hair down,’ I soothed.

  ‘I like it down. I wanted to do it nicely tonight, with Scot coming over, but I couldn’t, just couldn’t. It’s all her fault!’

  ‘I see. Can I ask you, Vicky, what was it that your mother said, or did, involving your hair?’

  Vicky put her hands over her face.

  ‘That horrible man next door, Alf, he knew what she did. He heard, he saw. When I saw him at the funeral I thought I was going to be sick.’

  I had heard on the grapevine that Alf disappeared immediately after Brenda’s death, only turning up again briefly for her funeral. The gossip was that his involvement in whatever pill dealing went on was about to catch up with him, and he’d done a moonlight flit. Whether this was true or not I wasn’t sure: I heard bits of tittle-tattle in the shop all the time, and not all of it was accurate.