had made the decision that you weren’t to go to the hospital or telephone your father again until she tells us.’ There was no easy way to say it.
‘What? I can’t telephone him?’ Beth asked, sitting up so quickly that I started. Her eyes blazed.
‘I’m afraid not,’ I said. ‘I don’t know – Jessie didn’t say – but there must be a good reason.’
‘I can’t telephone him at all?’ Beth asked, her voice rising slightly in disbelief.
‘Not for now. Not until Jessie tells us to.’
‘But that’s not fair!’ Beth cried, clutching the photograph. Then her anger turned inwards and on herself. ‘I bet it’s my fault I can’t see him,’ she said. ‘I’ve done something. It’s all my fault!’ Tears sprang to her eyes.
‘No, it’s not,’ I said. ‘It’s not your fault at all.’
‘It must be!’ she cried. ‘I love my daddy and he loves me. I must have done something really bad for them to stop me seeing him.’ Like many children in care who can’t see their parents, Beth felt she was to blame.
I moved closer and took her hand. She didn’t resist. ‘Beth, love,’ I said gently. ‘Sometimes social workers have to make difficult decisions, and they can’t always tell us straight away the reason for their decision. We’re going to have to be patient and brave, until Jessie can tell us what the problem is. Hopefully it won’t be long.’
Beth looked at me, all anger gone, now replaced by sorrow. ‘Perhaps my daddy doesn’t love me any more,’ she said pitifully. ‘Perhaps he loves someone else, not me.’
With the photograph still held close to her chest, she laid her head against my shoulder and began sobbing quietly. I put my arms around her and drew her to me. ‘Of course your daddy loves you,’ I said. ‘And deep down you know that. It wasn’t his decision not to see you. He’s very upset too.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Beth sobbed. ‘You don’t know he was upset. Perhaps he told Jessie he didn’t want to see me any more.’ I could appreciate why Beth felt so rejected, and with no reason for the cessation of contact it was difficult for me to reassure her. I decided I had no choice but to tell her about Marianne’s telephone call, to prove to her that it wasn’t her father’s decision and that he too was upset at not seeing her. ‘Marianne telephoned me this morning,’ I began.
Beth raised her head from my shoulder and looked at me, her eyes wet from crying. ‘Why?’
‘She asked me if I knew why you weren’t seeing your daddy. He telephoned her earlier because he was upset at not being able to see you. He wanted to see you very much.’
‘Did he really?’ Beth asked.
‘Yes, love. I wouldn’t make it up. He phoned Marianne, and then she phoned me.’
‘But if my daddy wants to see me and I want to see him, why can’t we see each other?’ Beth asked.
‘I honestly don’t know. Marianne and your father don’t know either. Jessie said she’d tell us when she knows more. But it may not be for some time. I know it’s upsetting for you, but there’s nothing we can do for now and I think we should try to make the most of the weekend.’ I decided not to tell Beth that Jessie had said she was making further enquiries, as it begged the question about the nature of the enquires and Jessie hadn’t told me.
‘So I can’t phone my daddy at all over the weekend?’ Beth asked, her face clouding again.
‘No, love, I’m afraid not.’
Her face crumpled and I put my arms around her and held her close. I felt so very sorry for her and impotent to help. As I cuddled and soothed her, I heard a key go into the lock in the front door downstairs and then the door open. For a moment I wondered who was letting themselves in, and then I realized.
‘John’s home,’ I said to Beth. ‘Let’s dry your eyes and go downstairs.’ I thought John’s entrance was well timed. It should help distract Beth from her disappointment and also cheer up Adrian and Paula, who were naturally worried about Beth.
Adrian and Paula had heard their father come in and had rushed down the hall to greet him with shouts of ‘Daddy! Daddy’s home!’
‘Hi, love,’ I called to John from Beth’s room. ‘I’m with Beth. We’ll be down in a minute.’ I’m not sure whether John heard me, for he was making such a fuss of the children. I could hear him telling them how much he’d missed them.
‘OK?’ I asked Beth. ‘Do you feel you can come down now?’ She gave a small nod. ‘Good girl.’
She slid the photograph of her father under the pillow. I held her hand and we went downstairs. John, Adrian and Paula were still in the hall hugging each other. ‘Hi. How are you two?’ John said, looking up as Beth and I arrived at the bottom of the stairs.
‘We’re good,’ I said. Beth managed a weak smile.
I went over and kissed John’s cheek; I couldn’t give him a bigger kiss or a hug as he was fully occupied hugging Adrian and Paula. I thought it would be nice if the three of them had some time alone, as they hadn’t seen each other for two weeks. I also thought that watching their joyful reunion might upset Beth even more.
‘Would you like to come and help me make John a cup of tea,’ I suggested to her. ‘I could do with your help, and I’m sure he’d like a cup of tea.’
‘Yes, please. I’m gasping,’ John said.
Beth was happy to come with me, and John shoulder-lifted Adrian and Paula into the living room amid squeals of laughter and delight. Here was another example of the careful balancing act that was required between the needs of one’s own children and the looked-after child, so that everyone had their fair share of attention and no one felt compromised or left out. Later, we’d all be together, but for now it was right that Adrian and Paula enjoyed their father’s attention.
Beth was meticulous in setting a cup and saucer on the tray for John and then arranging biscuits on a plate, and while this little activity distracted her from her upset, my thoughts were still with Derek. Marianne had said she was going to the hospital after work and I guessed she would be there now. I wondered how Derek was and if Marianne had found out the reason why he wasn’t allowed to see or speak to Beth. Surely Jessie had told Derek the reason, even if he’d been too upset to tell Marianne when he’d telephoned her? It crossed my mind, but only for a second, that the reason might have something to do with the concerns Marianne, Miss Willow and I had previously raised. But I dismissed the thought. Jessie had said those concerns had been proved unfounded, so it couldn’t be that.
Chapter Thirteen
John enjoyed the tea and biscuits Beth carefully carried into the living room on the tray and handed to him. Adrian and Paula had calmed down a little from the excitement of having their father home and were seated on the sofa either side of him, telling him their news. Beth and I sat in the easy chairs and joined in the conversation. There was a joyous, festive atmosphere to our talk that evening – the upside of having a partner working away is that their homecoming becomes a celebration and the whole family is merry. Even Toscha was purring and rubbing herself around John’s legs. After a while I left John with the children and went into the kitchen to make dinner. I’d chosen some of John’s favourite dishes to cook: chicken casserole with creamed potatoes, peas and sweetcorn, followed by apple crumble and cream. These were also favourites with Adrian and Paula and most of the children I fostered, including Beth.
Beth was quieter than usual during the meal and didn’t mention her father, other than to tell John that she wasn’t allowed to see him or telephone him. I motioned to John that I’d explain later as I hadn’t