thing to say, but I’m not the only one who has concerns. Beth’s teacher asked me why Beth wasn’t allowed to go on any school outings. I had to explain that her father wouldn’t let her and that Beth wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without him, apart from school. Miss Willow thought he was far too possessive and I agreed. If it had been my decision, of course Beth would have been allowed to go on the outings, and to play with other children in the neighbourhood.’
‘When you said their relationship wasn’t healthy, what did you mean?’ I asked.
Marianne frowned. ‘It’s difficult to explain. But Beth and her father are far too close, and not like a father and daughter should be. In many ways, Beth is more like a wife to him. She even sleeps in his bed.’ Marianne looked at me. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘I know Beth sleeps in the same bed as her father,’ I said. ‘She told me on the first night she was here. She wanted to sleep in my bed, but I didn’t think it was appropriate, or fair on Adrian and Paula.’
‘Exactly!’ Marianne said forcefully, meeting my gaze. ‘So why is it that you and I think that, but Derek can’t see it? How did you make Beth sleep in her own bed? She always kicked off something awful when I tried to make her. She has a nice room at home, but she won’t use it.’
‘On the first night I gave her a cuddly toy, which I said would help her sleep, and since then she’s been sleeping with a photograph of her father under her pillow. It seems to work.’
Marianne gave a small half-hearted nod. ‘Derek was never firm enough with Beth. He’s petrified that she will leave him as her mother did. He worshipped Beth’s mother and when she ran off with an old boyfriend he was devastated. In some ways he never got over it. I think he sees Beth’s mother in Beth, and clings to her memory through her. I don’t know, it’s all so confusing.’ Marianne toyed with the rim of her cup, deep in thought. I waited, for clearly she needed to say more.
‘Beth would never let me sleep with her father,’ Marianne said after a moment, looking up at me. ‘If I stayed the night, I had to sleep in Beth’s bed. It was like I was the child and she was his wife. She threw a tantrum if I didn’t agree to this, or anything else connected with her father. She knows how to get what she wants. I know it sounds pathetic, but the two of them stopped letting me go in the kitchen to prepare meals. They started cooking together and they were all over each other, kissing and cuddling like a couple of lovebirds. If I tried to show Derek any affection, Beth would push me away or push herself between us, so he had to kiss and cuddle her. Derek thought it was funny and just laughed. I never knew if it was for my benefit – that they wanted to show me how close they were – or if they were always like that.’ Marianne shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I still help them. Derek needs my help, and as long as I don’t show him any affection Beth tolerates me.’ Marianne stopped and looked at me, her brow creased in anguish and confusion. ‘Sorry, I don’t know why I’m dumping this lot on you,’ she said.
‘I can understand why you’re so worried,’ I said. ‘None of this sounds right to me either. Have you discussed it with the social worker?’
‘No. I thought about it. But I couldn’t think of what to say. It made me sound pathetic, as though I was jealous – of a seven-year-old girl! Perhaps I am. I wouldn’t mind some of the affection Derek shows Beth. But he doesn’t need me emotionally. He has all he needs in Beth. Though I worry about her and what is really going on.’
I held her gaze as my stomach tightened. ‘You don’t think there could be anything more than kissing and cuddling, do you? I mean, you said their relationship isn’t healthy, but you don’t think there could be anything –’
‘Sexual?’ Marianne put in.
I nodded sombrely.
‘I honestly don’t know. And what’s sexual and what isn’t? Where do you draw the line? Some of their kissing and cuddling could be described as sexual. I don’t think for one moment Derek would hurt Beth, but where will it stop? Beth will be a teenager one day, and then a mature woman. Will they become lovers?’ Marianne fell silent.
Anxiety, and fear for Beth, gripped me. ‘The social worker needs to know,’ I said.
Marianne nodded.
‘Shall I tell her what you’ve told me?’
‘Yes, please. It’ll sound better coming from you. It’s a relief to share all this at last.’ Marianne glanced at her wristwatch. ‘I’m sorry, I must go. I’m late for work already. I don’t want to lose my job on top of everything else.’ She immediately stood and returned her cup and saucer to the tray. ‘Thank you for listening and thanks for the coffee.’
‘You’re welcome.’ I also stood.
Paula, who’d been playing on the floor with her toys, came to my side and slipped her hand into mine. The three of us walked in silence to the front door. Marianne paused before leaving and, turning to me, said anxiously: ‘We are doing the right thing in telling the social worker, aren’t we? Derek is very vulnerable and he isn’t coping well.’
‘Yes. Beth is a child who is also very vulnerable. She has to be protected. I’m sure the social worker will know what to do and will handle it sensitively.’
Marianne gave a resigned nod and, turning, went down the path and to her car. I closed the front door.
‘Was that lady Beth’s mummy?’ Paula asked.
‘No, love. She’s a friend of Beth’s daddy. She’s been helping to look after Beth.’ Paula had obviously heard Marianne and me discussing Beth, but at her age, thankfully, hadn’t understood the content or implications of what we’d said.
It was with a very heavy heart that I took Paula into the living room, settled her with her toys on the floor and explained that I had an important telephone call to make and that I would use the telephone in the hall.
‘OK, Mummy,’ Paula said. ‘I understand.’
I left the door to the living room ajar so that Paula could come out if she needed me. I returned down the hall and picked up the telephone on the hall table. I dialled the number of the social services and was put through to the children’s services department. I gave my name, explained I was Beth’s foster carer and asked to speak to Jessie. Jessie’s colleague said that Jessie was out of the office on a home visit and wasn’t expected back until much later that afternoon. I left my telephone number together with a message asking if Jessie would telephone me as soon as possible. The social worker then asked if it was an emergency and I said it wasn’t, although I did need to speak to Jessie as soon as possible.
I replaced the receiver, went into the living room and checked on Paula, who was still amusing herself, then I took the tray containing the cups and saucers into the kitchen where, preoccupied with thoughts of Beth, I rinsed them out. I took the clean laundry upstairs where I distributed it into the drawers in the children’s bedrooms. As I entered Beth’s room, my gaze went to the rows of framed photographs on the shelves. I went closer and stood in front of them for a few moments, viewing them individually and also collectively. It was then I realized what it was about the photographs that made me feel so uncomfortable: it was the manner in which Beth and her father were posing. They either had their arms wrapped around each other and were gazing into each other’s eyes or they had their heads together and were smiling at the camera. But in each of their poses they were more like a couple than father and daughter, or as Marianne had said – lovebirds. The more I looked at the photographs the more obvious it became. I thought of the photographs of Adrian and Paula with their father and I knew none of them were like this. Yet there was nothing overtly sexual in the pictures. Derek and Beth weren’t touching inappropriately; it was the overall impression that was suggestive. Something definitely wasn’t right.
My mouth went dry as I turned away from the photographs. I lay Beth’s clothes on her bed and then reached under the pillow and slid out the photograph she slept with. It was a picture of Beth and her father on the beach. They were in their swimwear, kneeling on the sand and facing each