Nowhere to Go (18 page)

‘Sounds positively sylvan,’ I remarked.

‘It does, doesn’t it?’ John agreed. ‘But there are villages and there are villages, and I happen to know this one – and it’s not very “escape to the country-esque”. But the more interesting find –’

‘There’s more?’ I asked excitedly.

‘Yes indeed,’ he said. ‘It turns out that one of the permission forms – I think something to do with the hospital formally releasing the body – was signed by someone with the same surname as Fiona.’

‘Really?’ I could feel my investigator-gene kicking in now.

‘Yes, and of course Will assumed at first that it might be a parent, now deceased. But he thought he’d check, so he trotted back round to the Broughtons where Tyler’s father’s reaction was apparently unexpected.’

‘In what way? Why unexpected? What did he say, then?’

‘Nothing. Just closed down. Gave Will the same story he had in the first place. That he didn’t know anything about it –’

‘But in such a way that made Will sure he did?’

‘Got it in one. And also told him he should leave well alone.’

‘Aha,’ I said. ‘Which would be like a red rag to a bull to me. So what happened next? Did Will press him?’

‘Not right away. And then, just before Will had planned to call Tyler’s dad again, he got a call in his office. From Alicia.’

He paused then. Probably to breathe, but the suspense was killing me. ‘Go on then! Tell me, tell me!’ I almost squealed at him.

‘I’m trying to! And you won’t believe what she told him – Fiona has a sister.’

‘What?!’ This was incredible news. ‘How could no one have ever known that?’

‘Half-sister,’ John clarified. ‘And very easily. I think the only reason it’s come out now is because Alicia’s seen an angle here. That the existence of this woman might well take the heat off them.’

Which, I thought sadly, really did put the lid on any notion that Tyler might ever be going back home again. But right now I was more interested in hearing about this sister whose existence had been unknown to social services. ‘So what happened next?’ I asked John.

‘Will went back to speak to Tyler’s father, obviously – just caught him, in fact, before he went back overseas. And it seems she’s a good bit older than Fiona, and was – and still apparently is – a heroin addict too.’

‘So he’s still in touch with her?’ I asked incredulously.

‘No, he hasn’t seen her since before Tyler was born but still occasionally hears tales
about
her, through an old school friend of his. Apparently she lives in a world where, if you get in debt with a dealer, you lose your legs, and the last contact he had with her – so he says, anyway – was just after he left Fiona and she threatened to have him “done over”.’

‘Wow!’ I said. ‘Who’d have thought it? So Tyler has an aunt. We know where his mum is, and he has an aunt!’

‘Er, Casey,’ John said, ‘hold your horses. From all that – from all I’ve told you – the two snippets you comment on are that he has an aunt and we know the name of the chapel of rest? Did the rest go straight over your head? You know, the bit about the fact that his aunt is a hardened heroin addict? The fact that Alicia has all but admitted that she’s washing her hands of Tyler? The bit about …’

‘No, no, of course not,’ I said quickly. ‘I twigged the Alicia bit straight away.’

I knew John was teasing me, but he was right, of course. All that other stuff wasn’t as important to me right now as the fact that I had what I’d set out to find – a place where we could go and lay flowers for Tyler’s mum. And, with luck, his old teddy as well. ‘John, I heard it
all
,’ I reassured him. ‘And no doubt we’ll have to revisit some of it, but bloody hell – what a turn-up, eh?’

‘Well, yes, Casey, it is. But I’d go easy on the
we found you an aunt
bit if I were you. In fact, I’d counsel that you don’t even mention it. From the sound of things, it’s unlikely she’ll remember anything about Tyler and his circumstances, and when I was talking about cans of worms the other day I meant it. We could have a found an enormous can of worms right there.’

‘I know what you mean, John,’ I said, ‘and I agree absolutely – Tyler does not need another heroin addict in his life. But I’m thinking ahead here. I’m thinking about that long-term foster family. I just think that if he does have another living relative we’d be doing him a disservice if we didn’t check it out. We owe him that much at least, don’t we?’

I could hear John sigh at the end of the phone, but it was only a mildly exasperated sigh. ‘Already in hand, Casey. In hand as we speak. Will has an address and I believe even a potential mobile phone number, with which – if it’s the right one – he’s currently trying to make contact. To see how she feels about it,’ he added, ‘which could go several ways. And one of them might involve the word “off”.’

‘But, equally, might not be,’ I felt it was my duty to point out.

‘And equally might not be,’ John admitted.

It was very childish, but I did a Tyler and punched the air then. No, okay, so it hadn’t been my own super-sleuth endeavours that had brought all this to light, but it
had
been me who had set the ball rolling in the first place, hadn’t it? So I deserved at least a small pat on the back, didn’t I?
Result
. I’d have something positive to share with Tyler at long last, and I couldn’t have felt happier. So I punched the air again.

‘But remember what I said,’ John cautioned, having presumably read my mind. ‘This
is
unlikely to be an aunt in the “remembering birthdays and bestowing unsolicited gifts” mould. So don’t go off half-cocked and mention her to him, will you? Please don’t risk getting his hopes up, not just yet.’

‘As if I’d be that daft,’ I reassured him. ‘John, you know I wouldn’t do that.’

‘I know,’ he chuckled. ‘You’re far too much the old pro. It’s just that I can almost see the glint in your eye from down the phone line.’

And he was right there. He knew me too well.

As I expected, Tyler was over the moon about the prospect of finally getting to say goodbye to his mum.

‘Will it be a grave and stuff – so we can leave Billy there and everything? And I thought I could leave her a letter, as well, like I did for Grandad. She’d like that, wouldn’t she?’

I was touched again by him calling my dad Grandad so naturally, and it plucked at my heartstrings. It wouldn’t just be us who’d miss him when he’d left us. I also had to explain then what Will had told me. ‘There won’t be a grave, love,’ I explained, ‘because your mum was cremated, same as Cameron was. But Will’s told me there is a cross for her, in a garden of remembrance. So hopefully we’ll be able to leave Billy there.’

‘And did Will ask Grant yet? You know, about getting Billy back for me?’

I bit my lip, wondering what to say. The truth was that Will had asked Tyler’s dad about it, and had pretty much drawn a blank. He didn’t know anything about any teddy apparently, nor where he might look for one, and though he promised he’d asked Grant if he knew anything about it, it brought it home to me – and saddened me – that something so important to the little boy, the son he’d taken in, could have passed through his life for several years without him even remembering. Just how often did that little boy ever get tucked into bed at night by his father? Just how often had he been given a goodnight kiss?

I tried to put it out of my mind. It was history. It couldn’t be undone now. ‘They’ve been looking,’ I reassured him, realising I was probably lying. ‘But you know what it’s like when you move house, sweetheart. Lots of things get lost, and sometimes it takes years before they are found again. You watch. Just when they aren’t looking for it, it will turn up, I’ll bet. And, in the meantime, though, remember what I said? We’ll go into town and get another bear, just like Billy. That way, if Billy does turn up, you still get to keep him as a memory. Then you and your mum will have one each, won’t you? Just the same.’

Tyler processed what I’d told him and seemed to accept it. He smiled at me. ‘That’ll be nice. That’s a good plan, Casey. It’ll be like we have something together, won’t it? When will we go?’

The village where the cemetery was was south of us, close to a city and, being a practical soul, I’d already figured that I could kill two birds with one stone. I’d never normally travel that far to shop, but since we’d be in the area anyway it was an opportunity for some serious retail therapy – just the antidote to what would be an emotional kind of day. ‘Well,’ I said to Tyler, ‘I’ve been thinking about that, actually, and it’ll soon be December, won’t it? Time to start my Christmas shopping. So I thought that if we left it for a couple of weeks we could go into the big town centre there afterwards and you can help me choose some presents for the boys and Marley Mae. And also see the sort of thing you might like Santa to bring you, eh? What do you think?’

He was a boy, and had thus far shown little enthusiasm for shopping jaunts generally, but Christmas was Christmas, and the goal posts were therefore moved. He also vowed to be as good as gold until the big day arrived, of which I now had no doubt.

As far as Tyler’s behaviours were concerned, progress continued to be promising. It was as if, after Cameron’s death, he had changed overnight; as if he’d made a conscious choice to behave differently, as though some of his anger and frustration had died along with his friend. He was still as boisterous as ever, and still as sharp with his tongue when he chose, but that was a good thing – Mike and I could still see the essence of the real Tyler. Our job now was to build on that foundation so that when he left us to move to a more permanent home he would have all the tools he needed to live a fulfilling life.

Tyler was as good as his word, too. He was up on time for school every day, helpful with chores when he returned and, best of all, his progress at home seemed to be mirrored at school itself.

‘It’s like he’s a different child,’ his head of year told me when she phoned to report his weekly progress. This had been a regular thing since Tyler had moved up a level in his programme. It was a good way to check that the improvement was happening across the board. ‘He’s been a delight to teach,’ she added. ‘All his subject teachers have said so. Yes, he’s had his sad time, understandably, but he’s been so much less volatile, and, fingers crossed, relations with his brother seem better now as well.’ This was particularly good to hear. So Alicia hadn’t managed to completely turn Grant against him. ‘That’s great news,’ I enthused. ‘So they’re speaking again?’

‘They are. And in a healthy way. Tyler’s not seeking him out so much. They often meet up at lunchtime, but it’s not like it was. My spies tell me it’s much as you’d expect it to be. Relaxed. None of that tension. So we’re happy.’

I was happy, too. Even more so when I had a phone call from Will the following week telling me that he’d already been to see Tyler’s aunt Angela.

‘She’s – how shall I put this politely?’ Will said. ‘Hmm. A bit of a rough old bird, I have to say.’

I laughed out loud. ‘And does she cluck?’

‘I couldn’t imagine anyone
less
clucky,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry – you’ll know what I mean when you meet her.’

‘When I
meet
her? Is she coming to visit, then?’

‘Not exactly,’ Will said. ‘I don’t think she’s, ahem, really the “visiting” type. But she did say that she’d love to see Tyler, and though I can take him – and would be happy to – I thought you’d probably want to take him yourself, since it was you who instigated all of this. Anyway, so, being the presumptuous type, I told her I thought you’d probably be up for it.’

Up for it? He was right. I would have run over hot coals. If she was dying to meet her nephew, then I was dying to meet her. It would be lovely for Tyler to have another family member in his life, even if she was a rough old bird.

‘I understand you’re going to see his mum’s memory cross too,’ Will went on. ‘I think that will be fantastic for him, Casey. Give him something to hold on to, something tangible – a place he knows he can always go. Poor lad’s still got a lot of changes ahead.’

‘I know,’ I said, feeling that familiar rush of guilt I always got when we got to this stage with a placement. ‘Will, thank you
so
much for all this. Thanks a mill, Will, in fact. You’ve gone above and beyond here, and we really appreciate it.’

‘Not at all, Casey. All in the job, this kind of thing.’

Which I knew it probably was, but that didn’t make me appreciate him any less. He’d never been less than brilliant, not to mention kind and enthusiastic, and – oh, I didn’t know – just so
up
for it himself. I was so glad he was Tyler’s social worker.

‘Oh, and there’s something else,’ he said. ‘You might also be impressed by another piece of progress I think I’ve made. Nothing set in stone yet, of course, but I think I just might have found a placement for Tyler. Lovely couple. They can’t take him until after Christmas, so I thought we’d hold off for a bit with any meetings, but still it’s looking promising, so fingers crossed.’

I felt my heart lurch. Sort of leap into my mouth, however physiologically impossible. There was a potential placement for him already? It seemed he’d only been with us for two minutes. Which was rubbish – it had been months now, and, of course, we always knew this day would come, but, oh, how I hated hearing those words.

I thanked Will as heartily as I could and hung up. Then I sat miserably for the next hour, as I always did at this point, writing up my latest notes in my foster-carer log, and after doing so I began flicking back through it. It was fat now – a wodge of fat files and notes and bits of paper, and I glanced through the notes of some of the other children we’d had living with us: Justin, Ashton and Olivia, who been with us for so long; Cameron – just a few days; Spencer – a few months; Sophia, little Abbie … So many children, so many painful goodbyes.

It was a form of masochism; turning the pages was like being struck repeatedly by a mallet, and before long there were tears rolling down my face.
Bloody fostering!
I thought.
What on earth had possessed me to do such a thing!

Truth be told, I knew the answer. I did it because I loved it. This was just the cost we paid for all the joy. I needed to man-up and I did, as I’d done many times before, those gloomy thoughts being dusted away as carefully as the cobwebs in my conservatory, so that by the time Tyler and I set off on our journey to see aunt Angela I had my equilibrium and my smile back in place.

‘I wonder if she looks like my mum,’ Tyler called from the back seat of the car as we approached the estate on which she lived. ‘I bet she does. I can’t remember what Mum really looks like but the social lady said she’d seen a picture of her once and that she was very beautiful. She told me that.’

I smiled through the mirror. ‘Well, I don’t know if your auntie looks like her, sweetie – we shall have to see. But if your mum looked like you, then she will indeed have been very beautiful.’

He laughed at that. ‘I can’t be beautiful. I’m a
boy
, Casey – derr! Oh, but I’m dead nervous. If she asks me about where I live, or about my dad, or that witch, I’m gonna tell her I’m a foster kid because I don’t want to live at home. If she finds out they don’t want me, it might make her think I’m no good, mightn’t it?’

‘She will not,’ I said firmly, ‘and if she did, she’d be wrong. Couldn’t be more wrong,’ I added, for good measure.

So, I thought, Tyler had simply accepted then that he wasn’t going home. No one had ever told him that. He’d just taken it as a given that they didn’t want him. I hoped he wasn’t back on his tack of being unwanted because he was unlovable. I watched him through the rear-view mirror. He couldn’t be more lovable, in my book.

It was another 20 minutes before we pulled up outside what my sat nav called ‘my destination’, though as a destination address it wouldn’t make
Homes & Gardens
. It was a bleak-looking, run-down semi on an equally bleak street of run-down semis, and having been doing this job for years now and the one I’d done before it, I had seen enough to know that the person who was waiting behind the front door would be one just clinging on to their independence.

‘Looks like we’re here,’ I said, painting a smile on my face. Now we’d arrived I wondered if this had been a good idea after all. ‘Look at you,’ I said, going into bustle mode, ‘you’ve got chocolate all around your mouth. Come here.’ Tyler leaned towards me as I did that mumsy (and perhaps unforgivable) thing of taking out a tissue, dampening it on my tongue and then scrubbing the corners of his lips with it. He duly grimaced, but in a good-natured way. Then he grinned at me instead. ‘Will I do now?’

‘You’ll do for me, kiddo,’ I said as I let him out of the back. Then, for the first time that I could remember, he reached for my hand. I hadn’t proffered it – he had just found it and grabbed it.

We were greeted at the door by a woman I knew was in her forties but who looked – understandably – much older. She was thin and gaunt, and though she had long sleeves covering her arms I couldn’t help but wonder how many scars lay beneath.

‘Hi there,’ I said, smiling. ‘You must be Angela. I’m Casey, and this is Tyler.’

Tyler smiled shyly at his aunt, still holding tight to my hand, but was almost knocked off his feet as she lunged forward for a hug.

‘Hello there, little guy,’ she said, smiling to reveal not so much a row of teeth as a row of gaps with the odd tooth still present. ‘Oh my God,’ she declared, ‘you don’t half look like your mummy!’ She then let him go and stepped back into her hall. ‘Come on then, come in, I’ve got the kettle on. Excuse the mess and the dog hairs, they’re a bugger to get off the carpet.’

There was no sign of any actual dogs, but I assumed she’d locked them up somewhere. Out the back, perhaps, because there didn’t seem to be another downstairs room. Just a through-lounge and a kitchen, the door to which was open, revealing a cluttered worktop and a clothes drying rack, slung with washing.

Tyler kept my hand in a vice-like grip as we followed her into the house. She led us into the through-lounge and pointed to her sofa. ‘Make yourselves comfy,’ she ordered. ‘I’ll just go get the teas. I got the lad some milk. That okay?’

Tyler nodded as she left the room. ‘Casey,’ he whispered, ‘she looks a bit funny, don’t you think?’

I stifled a smile. ‘Tyler! You mustn’t say that – it’s rude. Just try to look beyond that. Try to get to know her a bit. She’s probably as nervous as you are.’

I then tried to find a spot on the sofa that wasn’t covered in dog hairs and God knew what else and, failing in both regards, sat down with Tyler gingerly. Angela
did
look kind of funny, I conceded, what with so many teeth gone. And her hair, obviously once black, was liberally streaked with grey and tied on the top of her head in a slightly skewed ponytail, so tightly that it seemed to pull at her face.

I tried my best to blank out the disorder that surrounded me (not to mention the sweetish, cloying, catch-in-the-throat smell) and graciously accepted the chipped mug of tea that she brought back, bearing the timeless legend
Have a Break, Have a Kit Kat
. It wasn’t easy to drink. I didn’t drink tea – I was a coffee person – and it wasn’t helped by the greasy blobs floating on the surface. But not to drink it would have been ungracious so I sipped the scalding liquid as best I could, while Tyler, taking my lead, did the same with his beaker of milk.

‘How old’s the lad?’ Angela boomed, as she sat down on the adjacent armchair, slopping tea on the carpet as she lowered herself into the sagging seat.

‘He’s 12 now, aren’t you, Tyler?’ He nodded his confirmation, still looking as transfixed by her as he’d been when we’d first seen her. ‘We’re, er, off to the crematorium,’ I went on, when she didn’t answer. For all her decibel level, she seemed as awkward as we felt. And it suddenly hit me that her booming voice might be the result of her being deaf. Used to needing people to speak up – didn’t that unconsciously make you raise your voice? I didn’t know, but it seemed the most likely explanation. ‘There’s a memorial cross there,’ I added. ‘We thought we’d take some flowers, didn’t we, Tyler? But the reason we wanted to come and meet you was because Tyler obviously doesn’t remember his mum, and we thought you might be able to tell us a bit about her – whether you had any nice memories you could share with us … a few photographs, perhaps. Tyler hasn’t got any,’ I finished. ‘Not one.’