for Edith or Tara,’ I said.
‘Edith has gone on leave, but Tara should be around somewhere,’ she said.
She, too, scanned the room and at that moment the double doors swung open and Tara came in, carrying a stack of folders.
‘Thank you,’ I said, and went over.
‘Hi. What are you doing here?’ Tara said, greeting me with a smile.
‘I’m running some training today,’ I said. ‘But I need to ask you something.’ I took the registration list from my bag. ‘This lady, Mrs Parvin –’ I said, pointing to her name on the sheet. ‘Could she know I’m looking after Zeena?’
‘She certainly shouldn’t,’ Tara said, shocked.
I explained what had happened.
‘I’ll see her supervising social worker straight away and find out what’s going on,’ Tara said. ‘Everyone here who’s working on Zeena’s case knows her whereabouts are to be kept secret. Is Zeena at school?’
‘Yes.’
‘Norma telephoned me this morning and said Zeena wasn’t able to tell her anything on Friday,’ Tara said.
‘That’s right. Norma said she’d been scared into not telling, and she hasn’t said anything to me either.’
Tara nodded. ‘How was Zeena over the weekend?’
‘She felt safer staying in, but we had a pleasant weekend.’ I gave her a brief résumé of our weekend.
‘And Zeena doesn’t need anything?’
‘No. I’ve asked her.’
‘OK. Let me find out what’s going on with Mrs Parvin and I’ll get back to you.’
‘Thank you.’
I left the office and went up to the canteen on the top floor. I bought a sandwich and a drink and joined some of the other carers at a table. We chatted as we ate. Mrs Parvin wasn’t in the canteen, but not all the carers were; some preferred to go out for lunch – to one of the local cafés. Once I’d finished eating I returned to the training room to prepare for the afternoon session, which was going to include role-playing situations that involved challenging behaviour. I pushed the tables and chairs to the edge of the room to make space in the middle. The carers returned and Mrs Parvin sat with two others. I began the session and it went well; role playing is a fun way of getting a message across. As we discussed the situations that we’d acted out involving challenging behaviour I was able to meet Mrs Parvin’s gaze, but there was nothing to be read there. At 3.45 p.m. I began winding up the session by going over what we’d covered, and then I distributed the handouts. As I did I saw Tara appear outside the glass-panelled door. She motioned that she’d wait and speak to me at the end. I concluded by thanking everyone for coming and said their certificates would be posted to them, then I opened the door for Tara to come in.
She waited until the room had emptied before she spoke. ‘I’ve raised the issue with Mrs Parvin’s supervising social worker. She’s going to speak to her now about the seriousness of breaking confidentiality, and also find out what she knows about Zeena. I’ve updated Norma and she’s ready to move Zeena out of the area to a safe house if necessary. She offered Zeena that option at the start, but Zeena said she wanted to stay in the area so she could be close to her brothers and sisters and see her friends at school. Could you ask Zeena if she knows Mrs Parvin?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘We don’t know for certain that Mrs Parvin does know Zeena is with you,’ Tara continued. ‘She may just be fishing or it may be coincidence, although it’s a big one if it is.’
I nodded.
‘I’ll let you know the outcome, but obviously if you have any concerns about Zeena’s safety phone Norma or dial police emergency on 999.’
‘I will,’ I said.
Tara thanked me and asked how the training had gone, then we said goodbye and she left the room. Deep in thought and very worried, I packed away my training material, left the building and then drove home. As I approached my house I was even more vigilant and checked the street before parking on the drive and going in. I was expecting Zeena to arrive home at about half past four. When she didn’t appear I immediately started to worry. I called her mobile but it went through to her voicemail. I left a message asking her to text or phone to say she was OK.
Five minutes later she texted: Im OK. On the bus. Then a couple of minutes later she phoned. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you. I went home first.’
‘Zeena, that’s not a good idea,’ I said. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes. I just wanted to see my brothers and sisters, but Mum wouldn’t open the door.’
‘So you didn’t see them?’
‘No.’
‘I’m sorry, but I really think you should wait for Tara to arrange contact.’
‘I know,’ she said sadly. ‘If my mother lets her. I don’t think she will.’
‘How much longer have you got on the bus?’
‘About ten minutes,’ she said.
‘All right. I’ll see you soon. Come straight home.’
Ten minutes later Zeena arrived home and I waited until she’d had a drink before I asked her if she knew Mrs S— Parvin.
‘Parvin is a common Bangladeshi name,’ Zeena said. ‘Although not in my family.’
‘So you don’t know her?’
‘I don’t think so. Why?’
We were now sitting in the living room and I looked at her seriously. ‘I don’t want you to be alarmed, but while I was at the council offices today a foster carer with that name asked if you were staying with me.’
Zeena looked puzzled but not shocked.
‘Could you have been followed home here?’ I asked, trying to hide my concern.
‘No, I’m constantly checking behind me,’ she said.
‘Have you told anyone you’re staying with me?’ I asked.
‘No,’ she said.
‘Not even your friends at school?’
‘I haven’t told anyone,’ Zeena said, and then hesitated.
‘Yes, go on,’ I encouraged. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘I can guess what has happened,’ she said evenly.
I now expected to hear the worst: that she’d accidentally let slip she was coming to live with me and this had somehow been passed on. However, what she told me was far more incredible.
‘When I told my best friend at school I was going to ask to come into care she was very worried. She said my family would be furious and they’d track me down through the Asian network and find me, which I knew was true. That’s why I asked for a white carer.’
‘Yes, I remember you saying something similar when you first arrived. Did you tell your friend you were here?’
‘No. I told her I was going to ask for a white carer. I had to; she was so worried about me. But I haven’t told her your name or where you live. It wasn’t fair on her to tell her, because her parents were sure to ask her if she knew where I was. They know my family. They all know each other. It would have been difficult for her to lie to her parents. I couldn’t ask her to do that.’
‘Yes?’ I prompted.
‘Well, her aunty lives next door to a foster carer who is Asian,’ Zeena continued. ‘I remember her aunty telling us about her when we visited her once,