might,’ Mike conceded. ‘Though by the sound of things Christmas will be the last thing on her mind. After all, she’s –’
‘Oh, lord,’ I said, a thought having just occurred to me. ‘Presents. She’ll need some presents. Mike, we have to get her some presents.’ I checked the time again. ‘The supermarket. The supermarkets will still be open, won’t they? For another hour, at least, anyway. Mike,’ I went on, seeing his pained expression, ‘I can’t have a child here with nothing to open on Christmas morning. I just can’t. Look, please, love. There’s still time. You go off and get some bits for her while I go and sort the room out –’
‘Me? Case, how am I supposed to know what to get a twelve-year-old girl?’
‘Use your imagination,’ I said, while grabbing his trainers so he could put them back on. ‘Use Tyler’s. Ty, you’ll go with Dad, won’t you? And I’ll make a list. Let me see … pyjamas. She’ll need some anyway, probably, as I don’t have anything the right size. A dressing gown. A fluffy one. Some CDs. Some smellies … Get some paper, Ty. Write it down. Go on, quickly, the pair of you. You know what’s current, Tyler … actually, on second thoughts, you can stay here with me. Help me clear all the rubbish in the bedroom …’
‘And clean it to within an inch of its life,’ he said, grinning. ‘I know the drill, sir.’ He clicked his heels.
‘Cheeky tyke,’ I said, aiming a gentle swipe at him. He was such a good boy. Such a lovely nature about him. Whatever else was true, Tyler’s presence was a bonus for any child who came to us.
I bundled Mike out into the fairy-light spangled night, which was cloudless and chilly, then ran around, first pulling out my wrapping box so I could wrap up all the spoils, then grabbing cleaning spray and dusters, and heading off up the stairs with Tyler to make the required assault on our unexpected charge’s place of safety.
‘Business as usual, then,’ Tyler said, grinning as he unwound the cord on the vacuum cleaner.
I couldn’t imagine anything about Bella’s circumstance that merited anything other than heartbreak, but this was not the time for that. Place of safety, place of calm. I smiled back at Tyler. ‘Yes, business as usual, love,’ I agreed.
I stared at my laptop screen, engrossed. While Mike was still out, and Tyler was ensconced in front of the telly, a second, more informative email had come through from John. And with coffee made, and the practical side of things finished, I had sat down to read it, first taking in the fact that it was so much longer than the first, and then, line by line, as it began to sink in, the truly desperate nature of this child’s situation.
There was also a good reason for Bella’s emergency relocation, it turned out. After having been taken from the family home, and interviewed (fruitlessly), she’d initially been billeted with another foster family. They were a middle-aged couple who often took emergency placements, and the intention had been for her to stay with them at least till New Year, when the various agencies and departments who made decisions in such weighty matters were back open for business. At that point, the holidays over, the intention was to move her to a longer-term foster home while the police built their case against her mother. But nature had no concern for the smooth running of social services, and it so happened that the couple had a very pregnant daughter who lived some 150 miles away.
That shouldn’t have been a problem in itself. The baby wasn’t apparently due till late January, so there was no reason for the couple not to have Bella short term. However, a few hours back, the couple’s daughter had gone into early labour, and with complications that meant the couple had no choice (as if they’d want one) but to jump in the car and make the journey to be with her. Which left Bella out on a limb, since there was no guarantee they’d be back any time soon, which was where social services, and then John, and then Mike and I came in.
I sent up a silent prayer for happy news – perhaps a Christmas Day delivery? And for a baby who was delivered safe and well.
Then my thoughts naturally moved to the girl we were receiving. John had managed to speak at greater length with Bella’s social worker’s line manager, and was able to give me a fuller account of the events that had led to Bella being in care.
It seemed her mother, Laura Daniels, and her stepfather, Adam Cummings, had always had a volatile relationship. Together since Bella was three or four (with the stepdad acting very much as Bella’s father, apparently), they were already known to social services and had been for some years, following numerous complaints to police and social services, mostly with regard to their frequent noisy rows. Screaming episodes, fighting in the garden, bouts of drunken brawling; incidents like these had seen them visited by those in officialdom on numerous occasions. It had apparently been a regular occurrence.
Yet on every occasion, it seemed, there was little in the way of follow-up. Which was not to say anything should have been done (all too easy to think you know better with the benefit of hindsight) but there was obviously a pattern: the mother always trying to calm the situation down and the stepfather, once questioned, always taking full responsibility, saying he had a drink problem which he was anxious to address.
I had heard it all before. Who hadn’t? The cycle of drinking, drying out and then, down the line, the almost inevitable relapse was one that, sadly, was familiar to many. Yet it seemed there was a genuine desire to stop drinking in Adam Cummings, which was presumably why his luckless partner kept sticking by him. Which she clearly had, and, that being so, social services had taken a back seat, and their input had become minimal; at the time of this potentially lethal bout of violence they were down to twice-yearly visits. And all had been well. Well, up until a week ago, that was.
I wondered what had changed. What had finally broken her.
The one positive (in a situation where it looked like there was a distinct lack of positives) was that, by all accounts, Adam Cummings had never once laid a hand on Bella. That was also borne out by the observations of both the neighbours and successive social workers; Bella had always been found to be well looked after, well spoken, well turned out and clearly loved by both parents. Mum had always been apparently reasonably hands-on at Bella’s primary school, too. And from discussions with the wider family, which apparently included the maternal grandparents (no mention of any family on his side), it was evident that Adam only ever lashed out when under the influence, and as Bella had apparently confirmed herself, never towards her. There was also a footnote – at the time of writing, which had been in early autumn, Adam had apparently been going to AA meetings regularly.
Ah, but Christmas. Bringer of joy, but also bringer-on of family tensions. And now a man lay in ITU and a woman in a prison cell. And in the midst of it all was their child, now all alone.
I heard the door open and close then. Time to ponder some more later. In the meantime there were presents to wrap. Hopefully.
My husband had done pretty well. ‘Ah, brilliant,’ I said repeatedly, as he produced gifts one by one from the supermarket carrier bag, like a conjuror pulling a rabbit from a hat. ‘I’m sure she’ll love that. And that. Oh, and that one, for definite.’
‘And definitely these,’ Tyler contributed, having wrenched himself from the TV to lend his considered opinion of Mike’s choice of music CDs.
CDs were still something of a staple in our fostering lives, as we still had two elderly CD players; one in what was now Tyler’s room – he didn’t use it but wouldn’t part with it – and the other in the spare, fostering, bedroom. Yes, very old-school, and often the subject of amusement among the young (‘CD player? Isn’t that, like, an antique?’ or, in one memorable case, ‘What is that?’) but while music was universal, the modern kit on which to play it was often not – not for some of the kids who had passed through our doors down the years; some barely had shoes, let alone iPods and iPhones. We also – old school again – still had two DVD players.