Mummy Told Me Not to Tell

‘
I
s he staying with you now?’
she
bellowed. ‘He better be! I ain’t ‘aving ‘im moved again. It’s a bleeding disgrace. Them wankers!’

‘No, he won’t be moved again,’ I reassured Tracey.

Reece was pulling on my arm and making a loud hissing noise. ‘Stand still, good boy,’ I said.

‘Do as you’re bleeding told!’ Tracey yelled, giving him another cuff over the head.

And that was my first meeting with Tracey, Reece’s mother.

Certain details, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the children in this story

M
y family and I had said a very emotional farewell to Tayo (the boy whose story I described in my book
Hidden
), our previous foster child, at the end of October, and because we had grown so close to Tayo it seemed a good idea to do some respite fostering, rather than take on another long-term placement.

‘Respite’ in fostering terms means looking after a foster child (or children) for another carer while that carer takes a much-needed break. Respite fostering doesn’t have the same emotional drain or complications as short or long-term fostering: the child or children arrive clean and well fed, with everything they need for their stay, and safe in the knowledge that they will be returning to their permanent carer(s) after the break. Some foster carers only ever do respite fostering, and have a steady procession of children staying with them. The foster carer looks after the child in exactly the same way as they would any fostered child, but the child’s time with her (or him) is viewed as a short holiday by all concerned, and the foster carer knows that
she cannot become too involved. For this reason respite fostering is said to be ‘easier’. While I am always happy to offer respite if I don’t have a foster child, I prefer the involvement of longer placements, and the satisfaction of knowing I have, I hope, in some small way helped a child along the difficult path of life.

After Tayo left and before we embarked on the respite fostering we took a week off and had no foster child at all. This gave me a chance to give the bedroom a thorough cleaning and airing, and also me and my family — Adrian, Paula and Lucy — a chance to come to terms with Tayo’s departure. Although Tayo had left in the best possible circumstances, there was still a sadness, a gap in the family, which would take time to diminish, and would probably only start to go with the arrival of the next child. Some foster carers take a new placement straightaway for this very reason.

The first child to arrive for respite care at the beginning of November was Jemma, a tiny five-year-old who had been with her carers for six months. She stayed with us for a week. Jemma was developmentally delayed and had the needs of a three-year-old. Paula and Lucy, my sixteen- and eighteen-year-old daughters, were very happy to help with this tiny tot and virtually took over from me when they came home from school and college in the evening. But aware that Paula had a lengthy essay to research and write for one of her A-levels, I thought it was just as well Jemma wasn’t staying for longer, as there didn’t appear to be much writing going on in the evening but plenty of playing with Barbie dolls. And while I’m sure Jemma enjoyed
her week of non-stop activities with my daughters, she was obviously pleased when her permanent carers returned from their break to take her home.

Three days after Jemma left I was asked to take Daisy for two weeks’ respite care. She was fifteen. I don’t normally foster teenagers — having three of my own is sufficient! And it is thought that a better family balance is achieved if the fostered child (or children) is not of the same age as the child or children already in the family: there is less chance of sibling rivalry, and the foster child’s needs can be better catered for. However, the placement was only for two weeks, and I knew that Daisy was considered a ‘bit of a handful’ and it would therefore be difficult to find respite carers for her. Also, I thought that with Daisy in school and without the high level of needs of a younger child I would have a chance to redecorate the bathroom before I had to start thinking about Christmas.

Daisy was due to arrive at six o’clock with her carer, Kriss, but didn’t arrive until 9.30, having not arrived home until nine o’clock. I could see that Kriss was very stressed as she brought Daisy and her suitcase into the hall and kept apologizing for their lateness. I told Kriss not to worry and reassured her that she hadn’t inconvenienced us (flexibility and adaptability are essential in fostering), and said that I would take good care of Daisy. Daisy was a slim attractive girl with long fair hair, who obviously liked to dress fashionably, and clearly wasn’t happy having to stay with me. I already knew from Jill, my link worker from Homefinders fostering agency, that Kriss was going with a friend for
two weeks to Spain. Daisy had been offered the chance to go with them but had refused because she didn’t want to leave her boyfriend behind.

‘Don’t see why I couldn’t have stayed at home,’ Daisy grumbled as Kriss tried to say goodbye.

‘You know why you can’t, love, not at fifteen,’ Kriss said, looking even more stressed. ‘Give me a hug. I must go. My flight leaves in three hours.’ Then, looking at me: ‘God knows what I’d have done if she’d been any later.’

I reassured Kriss again that Daisy would be fine, and I told her to go.

‘Goodbye, love,’ Kriss said to Daisy.

‘Bye,’ Daisy said sullenly, without looking at her and refusing the hug.

‘Bye. Have a really good holiday,’ I called after her. Closing the door, I wondered if Daisy had been very late returning home with the intention of trying to stop Kriss from going.

‘You’re a bit young to stay at home by yourself,’ I said, smiling at Daisy. ‘Anyway we’ve been looking forward to having you stay.’

‘Really,’ Daisy said, looking doubtful, but not as doubtful as I was, for she really did have a face on her.

‘Yes,’ I said brightly. ‘My daughters love having other teenagers’ company.’

Lucy and Paula were in their bedrooms and I called them down and introduced them. With typical teenage embarrassment, on all their parts, the girls smiled sheepishly, eyes down, and just about managed ‘Hi’.

‘I need to wash me hair,’ Daisy said to me.

‘OK, love. Let’s get your case upstairs first.’

I helped Daisy heave her very large suitcase upstairs and into what was to be her bedroom. Then I showed her where the bathroom was and made sure she had everything she needed. Lucy and Paula returned to their rooms with the intention of getting ready for bed — with school and college the following day I liked them to be in bed by ten o’clock.

An hour later, Daisy was still in the bathroom and my initial light taps on the door with ‘Are you OK in there?’ had grown to more insistent knocks, and ‘Daisy, please hurry up! We all need to use the bathroom.’ I thought it was just as well Adrian was at university and not queuing for the bathroom too, because he had begun spending more time in the bathroom than the rest of us put together.

Daisy finally came out of the bathroom at 11.00 and I wasn’t best pleased. Although she was staying with us for only two weeks I needed to set some ground rules, while at the same time making her feel welcome. I made her a bedtime drink — she wanted hot chocolate — and while Lucy and Paula took turns in the bathroom I sat with Daisy on the breakfast stools in the kitchen and gently explained that unlike at Kriss’s, where there were just the two of them, there were four of us in this house, and we all had to use the bathroom. Also, that on a school night I wanted her in bed at 9.30, with the light off at 10.00, as she had to be up and out of the house by 7.30 to catch the bus for school. Daisy liked the hot chocolate — she downed it in one go and asked for another — but
didn’t show the same enthusiasm for my bedtime routine.

‘Whatever,’ she said sulkily, as in the teenager’s ‘I hear what you’re saying but I don’t agree.’

‘Excellent,’ I said, sanguine as usual. ‘I know it’s going to be a bit different for you here but I’m sure you will be fine. It’s only two weeks and then you will be back with Kriss.’

‘Yeah, whatever,’ she said again.

I made her another hot chocolate, which she also drank in one go. Then I went with her up to her bedroom and said I wanted her to go straight to sleep and leave the unpacking until morning.

As it turned out, her unpacking was never done. The following morning, I checked she had her bus pass and dinner money, and was dressed in at least some of her school uniform, and then stood on the doorstep and waved her off to school. ‘See you later,’ I called. But I didn’t.

Daisy didn’t return from school. I was worried, but not as worried as I would have been with another child, for I knew from Jill that Daisy had a history of disappearing and usually turned up at her boyfriend’s. However, I still had to follow the usual guidelines for children who didn’t arrive home when they were supposed to and I telephoned the fostering agency at 5.00 p.m. to say Daisy was late. Jill said to give her another hour and then phone again. I phoned at 6.00 to say she still hadn’t returned. By that time Jill had contacted Daisy’s social worker, who said even though Daisy usually turned up at her boyfriend’s I
should still report her missing to the police. With Lucy and Paula taking care of dinner, I phoned our local police station and went through the (lengthy) process of completing a ‘missing persons’, all the while feeling I was probably wasting police time. I was.

Five minutes after I’d finished on the phone and had just sat down to dinner, Jill phoned to say Daisy had phoned her social worker and said she was with her boyfriend at his parents’ flat. The social worker had said it was all right for her to stay there. I could hear from Jill’s tone that she didn’t approve, but it wasn’t her decision. I didn’t know enough of Daisy’s situation to know if it was the right decision or not, but I was disappointed Daisy didn’t feel able to stay with us, and regretted the waste of police time.

Daisy popped in after two days to take some clothes from the suitcase that was still unpacked in her bedroom, and accepted a hot chocolate, but she didn’t want to talk. Two days after that she reappeared for another change of clothes and a bath; apparently her boyfriend’s parents’ shower was broken.

‘There is only a week before Kriss comes back,’ I said, catching her en route from the bathroom to what should have been her bedroom. ‘I think it would be really nice if you stayed with us for the week.’

Daisy shrugged, and then asked for the hairdryer and a drink of hot chocolate, which I gave her in the hope it might tempt her to stay. It didn’t, and I guessed Daisy had decided from the outset she wouldn’t be staying with us. She popped in twice the following week for a
change of clothes, a bath and, of course, a hot chocolate but didn’t stay long.