The Girl Who Wanted to Belong, Book 5 Read online

  ‘Daddy!’

  ‘Princess! Hey, look at you! I think you’ve grown.’

  Dean ruffled her hair while Wendy looked on disapprovingly. ‘Careful, Dean. What have you done with your hair, Lucy?’

  Before she had time to answer, Milly had pushed forward to give her big sister a cuddle, followed by the twins who gave her slightly self-conscious hugs. Gemma managed a thin smile and a half-hearted wave as she said, ‘Hi.’

  I welcomed everybody in and quickly explained about Lucy helping Jonathan in the bathroom. Wendy did not look pleased. I felt like telling her that if they hadn’t been late Lucy would have been immaculately presented, but I held my tongue. Dean muttered something about the traffic being bad and I said it wasn’t a problem; at least they were here now.

  ‘Why don’t you quickly go up and get cleaned up again?’ I said to Lucy. I smiled at Wendy and made a comment about Lucy being such a willing helper, but she didn’t react.

  Milly asked if she could go upstairs with Lucy and the sisters ran off together. Wendy and Dean refused my offer of a cup of tea, saying they wouldn’t stop, which was understandable as they were running so late. The boys accepted a drink of orange squash each and Jonathan popped down to say hello. He told them he’d never met a young girl who was so interested in helping with jobs around the home. Dean nodded and proudly shared a story about Lucy helping him rebuild a little wall when she was seven. I wanted to tell them about how Lucy helped my mum with her garden but the vibe I was getting from Wendy put me off. She had a disapproving, judgemental look on her face, though I didn’t know if that was because she was still cross about Lucy being dusty and with the rag in her pocket when they arrived, or because she had difficulty listening to any kind of praise for Lucy.

  Dean, thankfully, made up for Wendy’s coolness. He was in a friendly, chatty mood and he thanked us both for continuing to look after his daughter.

  ‘I appreciate it, mate,’ Dean said, shaking Jonathan’s hand. ‘I know when you took her in you didn’t expect to have her this long, but we’re working on it. I can’t thank you enough.’

  Lucy and Milly reappeared in no time at all. Lucy looked lovely. She’d washed her hands, brushed her hair and had decided to change into a new pair of jeans and her prettiest sweatshirt, though the clothes she’d had on could easily have been dusted down.

  Wendy immediately got to her feet. ‘We were going to have a roast but I think it’ll have to be a quick pizza now. We’ll have her back by three.’

  The boys cheered at the mention of pizza while I glanced at the clock and felt a wave of sadness: it was already one thirty.

  ‘Three is fine, but please don’t rush. If you take longer it’s not a problem, we’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Dean said. ‘That’s good to know, isn’t it Wendy?’

  ‘Three o’clock is plenty of time.’

  The family returned at ten to three. Lucy was in a great mood, telling me all about the pizza she’d had, the ice cream with chocolate sauce on top and the game she’d played on an arcade machine at the pizza restaurant. Dean brought her to the door while the rest of the family stayed in his van. He said they’d all had a ‘good catch up’ and that he hoped they’d do it again soon.

  ‘See you soon, princess,’ he said, kissing her on the forehead. ‘Great to see you!’

  ‘When am I coming home?’

  ‘Not that question again! What have I told you? As soon as I can fix it, OK?’

  He ruffled her hair as he had done when he first arrived.

  ‘OK Daddy. I don’t want to live with Mummy. I want to live with you. I miss you.’

  Dean caught my eye. ‘Oh, yes. I know all about the letters and all that with Noreen. Thanks for helping Lucy write back to her mum. I’m ever so grateful for all you’ve done for her.’

  ‘We love having her here, Dean. She’s a smashing girl. I’ll miss her when she’s gone. I wish you all the best. Good luck.’

  He smiled and gave me a nod. He was a gentle soul, but I really wished he’d stand up to Wendy more and fight a bit harder to have his daughter home, where she belonged.

  23

  ‘I don’t want to make you sad’

  Cedella called round the next day after school. The visit was unplanned and to my dismay she told me Wendy had contacted Social Services complaining that she felt it was ‘unreasonable’ for Lucy to be ‘expected to do building work’ in our house. Exasperated, I explained all about what happened on Sunday before the family arrived.

  ‘I assume you need to talk to Lucy? She can tell you herself how much she enjoys helping out with DIY and things like that. If the truth be told, she nagged me to let her help with the tiling but in the event all she did was hold the grouting bucket for a couple of minutes while Jonathan was up the ladder. We certainly wouldn’t ask her to do any kind of work that we felt was inappropriate or dangerous.’

  Cedella nodded and thanked me for filling her in. ‘But I do need to speak to Lucy, of course. Wendy’s made the call and it’s my duty to look into it. Also, I’m afraid Lucy told her dad that Jonathan treats her badly sometimes, and she said that you don’t care.’

  I sighed and Cedella said sweetly, ‘Angela, I’m just doing my job here. I’m afraid I have to do this . . .’ I could tell she wasn’t enjoying it one bit. She looked at me with genuine sympathy and I didn’t think she believed for one moment that Jonathan or I had done anything wrong, but her tact and sensitivity didn’t stop this feeling like another blow. I could really do without this, I thought; the upset caused by the malicious allegations from Wendy’s neighbour was still very fresh in my mind.

  I fetched Lucy and left her and Cedella to talk privately. When they were finished Lucy called me to come up from the kitchen and I sat beside her on the sofa in the living room, facing Cedella who was in one of the armchairs.

  Lucy looked ashamed of herself and couldn’t look me in the eye.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Angela,’ she said, examining her knees and hands.

  ‘What are you sorry for, Lucy? I’m not sure I understand what has happened.’

  She looked at the floor.

  Cedella spoke now, explaining that they’d had a good chat and it seemed that Lucy had ‘got muddled up’ when she said Jonathan treated her badly and that I didn’t care. She encouraged Lucy to talk to me.

  ‘Er, that’s right,’ she said quietly, continuing to study her fingers. ‘That happened to someone else – that boy who’s staying with Diane. It was when he was in another foster home. I forgot, I got muddled up. The foster carers he had were horrible, but you’re not like that.’

  Lucy looked sideways at me now.

  ‘I’m really sorry Angela. I said it because . . . I said it because Wendy was cross about me being dusty when they came to collect me. I said you and Jonathan made me do the tiling. I said you didn’t care and he didn’t treat me nicely. I’m sorry. I don’t know why . . .’

  ‘I see. Well thank you for telling the truth now. I appreciate that, though it would be helpful if you could try to remember how important it is to tell the truth all the time. Then we wouldn’t get into situations like this, would we?’

  ‘I know. I don’t want to make you sad, Angela. I don’t want you to have a pain in your heart. I’m sorry.’

  Lucy shuffled along the sofa and gave me a little hug. Cedella then had a brief chat with her, reiterating the importance of telling the truth, before wrapping up the visit and reassuring me that no action would be taken, and that she’d explain the ‘misunderstanding’ to Wendy. I saw Cedella out and told her I understood she had to report back to Wendy but was concerned it would reinforce her view of Lucy as a troublemaker, just when progress was being made.

  ‘Leave it with me. I’ll handle it, Angela. I do understand.’ She gave me a big smile and I felt reassured; I could tell Cedella knew where I was coming from.

  Later, an optimistic thought struck me, which no doubt shows how much I wanted Lucy to be reunited
with her family. Maybe Wendy cares more about Lucy than I think, because raising this complaint with Social Services could have derailed the placement. Why would Wendy risk that if she wanted Lucy to stay in our care for as long as possible?

  I shared my thought with Jonathan. He mulled this over for a moment but then said he didn’t think my positive take on the situation rang true.

  ‘Unfortunately,’ he said, ‘I’m afraid Wendy could simply be one of those people who doesn’t like the fact one of her dependants is in foster care and for that reason alone is happy to share criticism of us.’

  ‘Even though she doesn’t want to care for Lucy herself?’

  ‘Exactly. I hate to talk about somebody like this, but I think that might describe Wendy. Maybe she doesn’t like the fact we’re happy looking after Lucy and we cope well with her ‘behaviours’. I hope I’m wrong; I’d love it if this was all about Wendy making moves towards taking Lucy back, but I’m just not feeling that. I think she wants Lucy in care as long as possible, with us or with another carer. In fact, as cynical as this may sound, if Lucy’s placement with us broke down then it would give weight to Wendy’s argument about how difficult she is to look after. This is all about her, not us and not Lucy. I think she’s pretty ruthless and is putting herself first.’

  I had to agree that this sounded very plausible. I’d been clutching at straws, trying to find any hint of silver lining I could in amongst the clouds that continued to hang over Lucy’s future happiness. Maybe it simply didn’t exist?

  A few days later Lucy and I were driving to school when she suddenly started to talk about what she’d told her dad and Wendy when they went out for pizza. I don’t know what prompted it, although sometimes children find it easier to open up when they are strapped in the back of the car and don’t have to give you eye contact.

  ‘You know the other day . . . well, I did get muddled up, like I said, but it was accidentally on purpose.’

  ‘You got muddled up, accidentally on purpose?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘OK. Thanks for telling me this, Lucy, but I’m not sure I understand what you mean.’

  There was a pause and I waited for her to fill the silence.

  ‘Well,’ she said slowly. ‘I thought if Daddy thought I wasn’t happy with you and Jonathan, then he would get me home faster.’

  ‘I see.’

  There was another pause, a longer one this time, and again I waited for her to carry on.

  ‘I didn’t want to get you into trouble or anything. I do like you, I like you a lot. I think you’re kind and nice. I like Jonathan too. Sorry.’

  ‘We like you a lot too, Lucy. As I’ve told you before, you’re a lovely girl. Thanks for being truthful with me now.’

  ‘I’m not a liar!’ she said, suddenly sounding agitated. ‘I didn’t lie on purpose. It was an accident, not on purpose. Wendy asked me about the tiling and other jobs I do and . . . I really don’t want to make you sad. I just want to go home . . .’ Her tone softened towards the end and she fell silent again.

  I thanked her again for being honest and said I understood how much she wanted to go home. ‘I know you miss Daddy, sweetheart, and I can see what you’ve tried to do. But saying things that aren’t true isn’t going to get you home any faster, is it? In fact, if you’re not being honest – “accidentally on purpose” or not – that’s something that needs sorting out. And that could mean it takes even longer for you to be ready to go home.’

  It was a lot for a little girl to take in but I think Lucy understood the main point, that meddling of any kind was only ever going to lead to trouble. Privately, I wondered if Wendy had stirred things up to prompt Lucy’s unfounded complaints and criticisms. The trip to the pizza place had gone well and when Dean had brought Lucy back he certainly didn’t appear to have an issue with us, so what had caused Wendy to call Social Services after the event? In the absence of any bad behaviour from Lucy that would have given her grounds for complaint, had Wendy deliberately gone digging for trouble on the day? Then waited until they got home to share her grievances with Dean? I really would not have put it past her.

  That evening my mother babysat for Lucy and Maria while Jonathan and I went out for a meal with friends. We left the three of them happily playing a game of Cluedo and as we set off I told Jonathan about Lucy’s ‘confession’.

  ‘Poor Lucy,’ he said. ‘Creating trouble with us so she can go home, when being involved in trouble of any kind makes it less likely she’ll go home any time soon.’

  ‘That’s about the size of it,’ I frowned. ‘It all seems so unnecessary.’

  While I was getting ready to go out I’d been thinking back over Lucy’s past. From what we knew it seemed that she’d successfully ‘got rid’ of her first stepmother, Val, by reporting her nasty ways to her daddy. But who knew how true Lucy’s alarming version of events was? Pins in the bed, salt in her tea and dog muck in her hair . . . These were serious allegations, but had Lucy been telling the truth? To our knowledge no official action was ever taken, by Social Services or anyone else. Perhaps Lucy had made the whole thing up, or had she at least embellished the facts? Either way, she got what she wanted because her daddy appeared to have believed what she said and he and Val split up.

  As I dried my hair I considered whether Lucy had tried to make history repeat itself. Had she invented or exaggerated Wendy’s faults and caused trouble deliberately, so her dad would get rid of her and Gemma? Wendy had shown us her hard side, but was she really as unpleasant and cold-hearted as we’d come to think?

  I shared all of this with Jonathan as he drove us to the restaurant. We often talk things through when we’re alone in the car and there’s no chance of being overheard or interrupted, particularly by the children. I think we’re both quite good at trying to see a situation from all sides; it helps us make sense of tricky problems and it’s also a good way to unload, when your head’s full of worries and theories and you’re looking for answers and solutions.

  ‘So are you saying that maybe Wendy isn’t as bad as we think she might be? That Lucy has wound her up, told lies and caused trouble to get rid of her like she did with Val?’

  ‘Basically, yes. It’s only a theory but it’s possible. Maybe Val wasn’t that bad either, and now Dean’s had time to reflect – and now there are issues between Lucy and Wendy – he isn’t sure if Lucy was truthful about everything Val supposedly did wrong? Perhaps he now takes things Lucy says with a pinch of salt, and that’s why he’s reluctant to take her side and stand up to Wendy?

  ‘Wow,’ Jonathan said. ‘I present the first prize for amateur psychology to Mrs Angela Hart!’

  I laughed. ‘Well what’s your theory, clever-clogs?’

  He thought for a moment. ‘What I think is this: Mrs White did it, in the library with the lead piping.’

  I rolled my eyes and laughed, an image of Lucy smiling as she played Cluedo with my mum and Maria flashing into my mind.

  ‘But seriously,’ he went on. ‘I think the truth probably lies somewhere in the middle. Wendy and Lucy are both capable of being manipulative and I think they each feel threatened by the other. We’ve talked about feeling stuck in the middle and having to be diplomatic, but the real piggy in the middle is Dean. I think he has the power to sort this out, by making it clear to both Lucy and Wendy that they need to show more tolerance and kindness to each other if the family is ever going to gel. I’m afraid he doesn’t see this, or he doesn’t want to see this. He’s a very gentle character who doesn’t like conflict, so his natural tendency is to back off and sweep things under the carpet rather than confront problems head-on. This leaves the way for Wendy to rule the roost, which is precisely what she wants. She’s a naturally controlling person, and Dean’s subservience gives her even more power, which puts Lucy’s nose out of joint and fuels the whole vicious circle of resentment and bitterness.’

  ‘Wow! Some excellent observations. Second prize to Mr Jonathan Hart!’

  ‘I’d s
ay joint first prize, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Maybe. I’ll have to think about it – it’s certainly food for thought. Talking of food, let’s go in. I’m starving.’

  We’d been in the car park, finishing off our conversation, for about ten minutes. Unbeknown to us our friends were already in the restaurant and had seen us arrive.

  ‘What’s going on?’ they laughed. ‘This is a rare night out without kids, and you two are sitting in the car park! Come on, our table’s ready.’

  Jonathan and I looked at each other and smiled; foster carers do have nights out and time ‘off duty’ but, just like any parent, we haven’t felt ‘without kids’ for a very long time and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

  24

  ‘We can’t have Christmas ruined’

  The next time Lucy would see her family was at Christmas. She was invited to stay for one night shortly after the schools broke up, returning to us a couple of days before Christmas Eve. Lucy didn’t question why she couldn’t spend Christmas Day with the family; the more time that passed the less she challenged the restrictions placed on her contact with the family, although that didn’t stop her talking about her daddy frequently, or regularly checking with Cedella and me if there was any news on when she was going home.

  Unfortunately, unprompted by Lucy or anybody else, Wendy took it upon herself to explain to me exactly why Lucy wasn’t welcome on Christmas Day.

  ‘Dean’s been very busy at work and he’s been to the doctor because he’s stressed and not sleeping well,’ she told me on the phone. ‘We can’t have any trouble. He’s been told to take it easy and I’ve got to take care of him. I’ve told Lucy we can’t have her here because it will cause complications and upset her dad.’

  ‘Complications? Upset her dad?’ My heart sank and I thought, Surely Dean will be upset not to see his daughter on Christmas Day? What on earth was the point in saying that to Lucy?