A Last Kiss for Mummy (11 page)

‘It’ll pass,’ I said, replacing the coffee with water. Perhaps it was still a bit too soon. ‘Just take deep breaths,’ I said. ‘It’ll settle. It usually does.’

She took the glass and sat back, drinking tiny sips while she watched me load the dishwasher. And when I’d done, I sat down across the table from her.

‘Love,’ I said. ‘I know you feel terrible and I feel for you, I really do. But right now I feel more terrible for that little lad upstairs and that you doing this sort of thing means he’s not getting what he needs.’ I looked hard at her. ‘Tarim. Did you see him last night?’

I probably couldn’t have picked my moment any better, as she was all out of energy or ideas with which to argue. She simply nodded. ‘He was there,’ she said. ‘Waiting for me outside the unit when school finished. I hadn’t planned it or anything, Casey, honest. He just got out yesterday and he came straight to see me. Before doing
anything
else.’ She paused to sip the water. I could see she was proud to have been able to relate this evidence of Tarim’s devotion. ‘And he does have a right, you know – I
am
his girlfriend.’

‘Yes,’ I said, trying to choose my words carefully. ‘But you have a phone, Emma, so why on earth didn’t you use it? If you had only rung me and explained that to me, then we could have sorted something out.’

This seemed to spark something in her; something that came from nowhere. Or somewhere, more accurately. The very prison her beloved boyfriend had just come out of. ‘Oh, right,’ she said, ‘like you’d have gone, “Okay Emma, you just go off out and have a great time with Taz – don’t worry about the baby or anything.” Yeah, sure!’

I got it then, in that instant, that perhaps she
had
wanted to phone. I didn’t know why – it was just a sense and I trusted it. That she’d suggested to Tarim that she phone me, even, but that he had told her not to – for the reasons she’d just so pithily retorted.

So I bit my tongue. ‘You know what I mean, Emma. Of course I wouldn’t have said that; you’re not stupid. You know that. But I would have understood that you wanted to see each other, and, as I say, we could perhaps have sorted something out. Could have arranged properly for me to look after Roman while you did see him. But instead you just
assumed
that I would look after Roman for you – you didn’t even give me the choice – then went out drinking; the very thing you promised me you wouldn’t do.’

‘Of course I did – I had to! Taz has only just got out of prison, Casey – isn’t it obvious that he’d want a drink?’ She drew a stray few strands of hair from her forehead and looped them round her ear irritably. ‘Anyway, you weren’t always this old,’ she reasoned. ‘You’d have done stuff you shouldn’t have when you were my age.’

I wanted to tell her that, yes, I had – I was only human, after all – but then I didn’t have a baby when I was doing them, did I? But I knew it would fall on deaf ears. And I was much, much more interested in keeping her on side, where I could at least, hopefully, exert some small influence on what happened next, particularly now we had the added complication of Tarim to negotiate. ‘Fair point,’ I said. ‘And yes, you’re quite right. I had my moments. But this isn’t about me – this is about you, and what’s going to happen now. Are you planning on sneaking off with him every time you’re out of my sight, or are you going to be responsible and sensible and remember that you’re part way through an assessment with Roman, and that I need to report back to Hannah about your progress?’

The mention of Hannah’s name seemed to trigger another strong reaction – breaking the illusion that this was a simple mother–daughter-style ticking off and that this particularly fourteen-year-old was in any way predictable.

‘Oh, just do what you have to,’ she said wearily. ‘Grass me up if you want to.’

‘Emma,’ I said. ‘The term “grass me up” isn’t the right one. I am not here to “grass you up”, as you put it. It’s my job to help you do what you need to in order to show Hannah you’re a responsible mum to Roman, and –’

‘And you’ll
still
be as bad as all those baby snatchers if you do grass me up. That’s the problem,’ she whined. ‘No one will give me a fucking
chance
! Just like they never gave Taz a chance either! It’s so stupid. If we were just left alone to get on with our lives there wouldn’t even
be
this fucking problem!’

With her petulance came another loud-and-clear indication that she was a challenging teen – and still a young one – who needed those boundaries put in place right now. ‘Emma,’ I said sternly, ‘I suggest you calm down. You won’t like it, but you really need to take it on board, okay? There
is
a problem. You are fourteen and that
in itself
is a problem. Legally, it is a problem. However much you think your life would be better if we just left you alone, trust me, it wouldn’t. And here are some facts. First of all you have been drinking underage – which is illegal. Secondly, the person who’s been supplying you with alcohol has also been breaking the law as well. Now, if that’s Tarim, then we have another problem right there, don’t we? What with him just having come out of prison and all, that’s not going to look very good for him, is it? Thirdly, like it or not, you are being scrutinised. You are being assessed to see if you can be a competent mother to Roman, and make no mistake, if things come out badly, then trust me, you will lose him. You will lose him because he has rights too, Emma. Don’t forget that. You brought him into the world and he is your baby, no question. But we live in a civilised society only because there are laws in place to protect vulnerable people. And that includes Roman. He has a right to be taken care of properly and that’s why he is protected by the courts. Do you get that?’

Since Emma had her head down and was listlessly prodding the bread of her uneaten sandwich with a finger, I had no way of knowing. But she had ears, and I knew she was listening.

‘Finally,’ I went on, just to press my point home, ‘Mike and I have been very lenient with you up to now. You know that. And we’ve done this to give you
the best possible chance
of proving that you
can
look after Roman. But that only goes so far. You really have to shape up now. Roman deserves a good and caring mum, just the same as any child does. A mum, and possibly a dad, too, who will put
his
needs first. And if you’re not going to do that, then I’m obliged to tell Hannah and Maggie. Do you understand what I’m saying, Emma? Do you?’

I had watched her throughout and I watched her still. She was now turning the glass of water around and around in front of her, using her palms. She finally stopped and looked at me. Perhaps the message had hit home. I was hoping for contrition; an acceptance, however sullen and grudging it might be, that it really was time to accept the seriousness of the situation – that if she didn’t get her act together, she really
could
lose her baby.

But what I got instead took my breath away. ‘Like I said,’ she answered quietly, ‘you go ahead and do you what you have to do. It’s not in my hands, is it? It never has been, not since the minute I got pregnant. Social services always knew what they wanted. They wanted my baby so they could give it to some childless old couple somewhere. It’s like Taz said, there’s nothing we can do about it, is there?’

‘Emma,’ I said quietly, ‘where is all this
coming
from? There is a lot you can do about it, trust me.
Everything
is in your hands.’

She shook her head. ‘You really believe that? I don’t. They’re going to take him, Casey. Whatever I do. This whole thing is just them waiting till they’ve found their “perfect” family. And if they do take him, that’s that, isn’t it? We’ll just have to wait till I’m sixteen, won’t we?’ She fixed her eyes on me, as if to see how I would react to her next words. ‘And have another one,’ she said. ‘And then I’ll be legal. So they won’t be able to touch me then,
will
they?’

Emma stood up, then, picked up her glass and headed off back up the stairs, leaving me sitting there at the table, incredulous. I couldn’t believe anyone could say what she just had and actually mean it. It was just down to her youth, I thought, her inability to cope, her background, her protective carapace, her hormones, her boyfriend. Oh, yes, her boyfriend – was that it? That he already had everything figured out? Be so much easier for him that way, after all. No mess. No baby with an underage girlfriend. No social services snooping around and sticking their noses in. Just dispense with this messy baby, wait a bit, and have another one. Excellent forward planning. God, I thought, distractedly. He was actually brainwashing her! Trying to get her to see the sense in letting social services deal with Roman. After all, this was a baby he had never even seen. Nothing more to him than an inconvenience, in all probability.

He, I decided, must be a
real
piece of work. But whatever the reasons, the facts remained the same. This was a potentially dangerous situation for Emma. I would have to phone both Maggie and Hannah and put them in the picture. The
full
picture this time.

Back in my past life – before fostering, before I ran the unit in the local comprehensive – I worked for a time as an assistant team leader at a self-development programme run by the local council. Our job was all about taking young people who weren’t in education, employment or training – commonly known as ‘NEETs’ – and helping them find a role in society. We would recruit groups of teens who had problems to overcome, and over the course of a full-time twelve-week period on the programme would help equip them with life skills, and nurture talents which would hopefully give them more confidence and ideally – the ultimate goal – a job.

There were two girls on one of these courses that I’d never forgotten. They were sixteen-year-old twins, called Scarlett and Jade, who’d been sexually abused for years by their father, not only individually, but also sometimes together; each being forced to watch as their sister was sexually assaulted. So theirs was the bleakest of bonds, and also a strong one, and since their mother had never stopped the unspeakable happening they had only each other to care about and care for. Their lives, though, since being in care, had taken very different turns. Scarlett had coped well, making progress and trying to get hers together while Jade, intellectually perhaps the brighter of the two, had gone the opposite way. She had fallen in with a bad crowd, taken to abusing drugs and alcohol and, perhaps inevitably, had fallen pregnant too. She’d been Emma’s age when she had her first baby and it was taken away from her immediately. And then, very swiftly, she’d fallen pregnant again, and had another. That one was taken away from her too. It didn’t bear thinking about. Her life was such a mess. And when I’d met her the effect on her was all too clear. She was back on the drugs, almost a recluse, and her self-esteem was so low that she looked and smelled on the outside every bit as grim and filthy as she undoubtedly, tragically, felt within.

Jade came through, though. In the end, we got her the help she so badly needed, and she was able, much to the relief of her distraught sister, to find a way out of the despair and grab at life again. But, by then, for her and her babies it was already too late. It was unlikely she’d ever see either of them again. I still thought about Jade often, and I thought about her now. I would sit Emma down, I decided, and tell her all about Jade. I didn’t believe a word of what she’d said to me about just accepting she was going to lose Roman. And I so desperately didn’t want that for her.

In the meantime it was Saturday lunchtime and I knew I had a weekend of uncertainty to face, because much as I knew I had to record and pass on the events of the past twenty-four hours, I wouldn’t be able to discuss it with anyone now till Monday. I knew I could call John Fulshaw, but what would be the point, really? He’d tell us to use our judgement when it came to whether to allow Emma out of the house or otherwise, and my judgement already knew the answer to that one – that becoming her jailor probably wasn’t it.

By now Emma was ensconced in the living room, watching telly. She looked markedly less green now but still very fragile, so it was just as well that Roman was so engrossed with the fun, squeaky toys attached to his playmat, because I was determined not to step in and take over. Instead, I started getting lunch ready for when Mike came home from work, and pounced on him as soon as he walked through the door. He was expecting a quick bite to eat before going off to watch Kieron play football, but instead he got me trailing after him as he went upstairs to shower.

‘Can you believe she said all those things to me?’ I asked him. ‘I was gobsmacked. To think that she could just write Roman off like that – and to say so to me! As if he was just a problem she and Tarim could do without – and that he could simply be replaced with another one.’

‘She was saying it just to get a reaction out of you, I’m sure,’ Mike soothed. ‘Just like she did before – don’t you think?’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I do know that. But it’s really getting to me. It was the
way
she said it – it was like she and Tarim had already discussed it and decided that she was going to lose him, and didn’t care.’

‘Or more likely, I’d say, is that he’s convinced her of that so well that she’s steeling herself for it to happen – trying to act like she doesn’t care. After all, after last night’s shenanigans she’s probably certain about that, don’t you think? Probably just waiting for the knock on the door.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘But that doesn’t
have
to happen. It’s not a foregone conclusion. Not if we can make her see the seriousness of the situation; get her to take on board what needs to happen now. And him, though the more I hear of him the more I reckon pigs’ll be winging their way past our bedroom window, frankly. But it
has
to happen. Because it seems to me he really does have to be a part of all this, jailbird and drug dealer or otherwise – because if they’re already making plans for when she’s “legal”, as she put it, I don’t see banning her from seeing him as an option, do you?’

‘No, I don’t,’ Mike said, stripping off his shirt and throwing it on the bed. ‘But right now I have a date with my own son and a football pitch and need a very big bacon and egg sandwich to fuel me up. Any danger of that happening any time soon, chef?’

But I was still on my track. ‘But do you think we should do that anyway? You know, ban her just for the weekend, till we’ve had a chance to speak to Maggie? I thought not, but at the same time she
is
only fourteen still …’

‘Love,’ said Mike, ‘you don’t even need me to answer that. Long term or short term – makes no difference. If she chooses to bugger off with him every time he snaps his fingers, then we can’t stop her. All we can do is point out that every time she does she’s hammering a nail in her own coffin. Do what you’ve said you’ll do – speak to Maggie and Hannah on Monday and tell them everything, and I mean everything. Why should we gloss over her slip-ups? She needs a reality check, love, and you’re not doing her any favours by making out she’s mum of the year when she so obviously isn’t.’

‘I hardly do that,’ I bristled. ‘I just want to give her the chance to prove she’s adequate, that’s all. Imagine losing your baby because of what’s essentially just silly adolescent behaviour, and then realising what an idiot you’d been and wanting a second chance. Because there won’t be one, will there? You know how these things happen. Once she’s lost him …’

‘I know, love. And I’m not trying to be horrible; just stating facts and consequences. And the fact is that this is in
her
hands, not yours. Though as far as this weekend is concerned what you can do is make it clear that if she wants to go out anywhere then she takes Roman with her – none of this gadding about while you babysit. You’ve agreed to childmind him while she goes to school, out of the goodness of your heart, but that’s where it must stop. Now, are you going to feed me or what?’

I went downstairs again to make my poor starving husband some lunch, seeing his logic but with my heart fighting against it. Glancing into the living room, I could see Roman trying to attract Emma’s attention and resisted the urge to scoop him up and pop him in his high chair in the kitchen so he could play with some bricks while I made Mike’s sandwich.

As a mother myself I couldn’t bear to think about a chain of events happening from which there would be no going back. And a chain which had an end point of a baby going into care permanently and a young mother scarred, now, for life. Still, as a responsible foster carer, I knew Mike was right. I mustn’t keep covering up for Emma; I had a responsibility to Roman too, and had to do the right thing even if it broke my heart to be a part of it.

Tarim remained the elephant in the room till Sunday; present in everyone’s minds but on nobody’s lips. But if I thought Emma’s silence on the subject of her newly released boyfriend was because she’d decided to part ways with him, I’d had to have been a top of the range idiot. Which I wasn’t, so when her mobile started chirruping while we were in the dining room just starting our Sunday roast, I could tell she’d been waiting to hear from him just by her body language.

‘Can I get that?’ she asked, half-rising from her seat even as she spoke. ‘It might be Taz and I don’t have enough credit to call him back.’

I was about to answer, but Mike beat me to it.

‘Go on, then,’ he said, nodding. ‘But be quick, okay?’

She pushed her chair back and ran to the kitchen, where the phone was – she’d taken to keeping her charger plugged in in there now, all the better, presumably, not to miss it.

‘Hiyah, babe!’ I heard her say to him. ‘Whassup?’

With the house being so open plan, we could both hear her clearly, so, while Roman played enthusiastically with his pureed bowl of roast dinner, Mike and I ate methodically and listened.

‘I’ll see what Casey says,’ I heard her tell him. ‘I know. Yeah, I
know
, but I still have to
ask
…’ There was a pause then, which was followed by ‘C’mon, don’t be like that, babe. Okay, babe. Half an hour then. By the shops. Okay, love youuu.’ Then silence. She returned.

‘You planning on going out, then?’ Mike asked as she sat back at the table. Roman was by now splatting his spoon into the mush in the bowl in front of him. I was pleased to see Emma automatically reach out and take the spoon from him, and then encourage him to eat with it as well as play with it.

In her own food, however, she suddenly seemed to have little interest, pushing it around on her plate.

‘Erm, well, yes,’ she said. ‘That was Taz.’

‘We guessed that,’ I said mildly, smiling.

‘And he wondered if I could take Roman out for a walk, you know, to see him. Just for a walk for a bit, like. Just down to the shops and stuff.’

This floored me. I’d been expecting to have a completely different problem – that of pointing out that we were not prepared to babysit while she went to meet Tarim, that, following on from the conversation we’d already had on Saturday, further arrangements regarding him must be sorted out with Maggie.

So I was thrown. And since Mike and I couldn’t go off and have a summit talk, I did my thinking about what to do on the hoof, solo.

‘Take Roman
with
you?’ I said. ‘Love, we can’t let you do that, I’m sorry. You know we’re not able to allow contact till Maggie agrees it. But look, if you want to go out for an hour –’

‘Why?’ she wanted to know. ‘He’s my baby, not yours. Tarim just wants to
see
him. There’s nothing wrong with that!’

Mike gave me a warning glance, which was understandable. Hadn’t we already agreed there’d be no babysitting till things were sorted out? ‘Casey’s right,’ he said to Emma. ‘We haven’t been cleared to allow Roman contact with Tarim, so until we’ve spoken to Maggie and Hannah in the morning I’m afraid that can’t happen. Love,’ he said gently, ‘you’ve got to realise that you’re in care and we’re in a position of responsibility for both you and Roman, and that includes keeping him away from people who’ve just been released from jail. Like I say, if the authorities say different, then it’ll be fine, but in the meantime …’

Emma rounded on Mike then, looking daggers at him. ‘Oh my
God
!’ she said, her voice rising. ‘You people make me sick. I could have lied to you right then. Easy. I could have just said I was taking him out for a walk or something, couldn’t I? Or meeting up with Tash. I could’ve said it was Tash, couldn’t I? And you wouldn’t have known any different! But, no, I decided to be honest and where does that get me? Nowhere. Great! Thanks for that!’

She scraped her chair back again, threw her fork across the table and stomped out of the room, slamming the door for good measure.

There was a moment of silence, Roman blinking in shock at the place where his mother had just been. He put his little spoon down and held both arms out towards me, wanting a cuddle. I went across and scooped him up, almost on autopilot.

‘She has a point, love,’ I said to Mike as I sat back down again with Roman on my lap. ‘She could have lied. Easily. She’s right – we wouldn’t have known.’

‘Casey, have you heard yourself? We just heard the bloody conversation, didn’t we? How could she have denied it? We were three feet away! I hope she doesn’t think we’re that stupid!’ He put his own cutlery down and retrieved the errant fork from the floor beside his chair. ‘Don’t be falling soft, love,’ he went on, ‘for God’s sake. She isn’t old enough or mature enough to be making those kinds of decisions. Leave her to stomp all she wants. He stays here and that’s that.’

And that
was
that. We heard the front door slam a few minutes later, signalling that Emma had gone out to meet Tarim by herself. And by the time she returned – a full two hours later – I had already bathed and dressed Roman in his night clothes and we were settling down to watch a movie on TV.

Emma purposely breathed out in my direction as she leaned down to take Roman from me. ‘See,’ she said as I blinked at the sudden gust of air in my face. ‘No alcohol – just in case you were wondering.’ Upon which she flounced out, throwing a ‘Don’t worry, I’m taking him up to chill with
me
now’ back at me as she did so.

I got up early the next morning; saw the dawn in fully dressed, in fact. And after Mike had gone to work, and with both Emma and – surprisingly – Roman still sleeping, retrieved and updated all the notes I kept in my desk drawer.

Keeping detailed notes is part and parcel of the business of fostering. It was important to log everything that happened. This was both to provide a comprehensive record of a child’s progress – or lack of – and, equally importantly, to protect a foster family against allegations. Which did happen – when a child or teenager became a member of a foster household, much that went on obviously did so behind closed doors. And with many children in care being there because of things that had happened behind other closed doors, it wasn’t surprising – even if it was depressing – that a foster carer could be the victim of false allegations.

Day-to-day events were recorded in a log book which had to be kept for at least a year after a child left the placement, just in case such a thing did ever happen. And if there was an incident that could potentially have serious ramifications immediately, e.g. an episode of aggression, threat or actual violence, then the procedure was for me to call the emergency duty team and take further advice from them.