and cups of tea in between.’
‘Will my daddy get dressed or stay in his pyjamas?’ Having never been in hospital it was a sensible question to ask.
‘He may stay in his pyjamas to begin with,’ I said. ‘Then, when he’s feeling a bit better, I expect he’ll get dressed.’ Clearly I didn’t know if this was so, but it seemed a reasonable supposition.
‘I don’t think my daddy took his pyjamas with him,’ Beth said, now looking at me anxiously.
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure your social worker will have thought of that. But if your daddy hasn’t got his things with him, then the hospital will give him what he needs until someone can take his things in.’ Although, of course, if Derek was as alone in the world as Beth had suggested, there may not be anyone to take in what he needed. I made a mental note to ask Jessie about this when she telephoned.
Beth’s talk of her daddy continued during the whole of breakfast, when we went upstairs to brush our teeth, in the hall while we put on our coats and shoes and in the car on the way to school. Beth’s questions and comments about her father’s welfare were intermingled with little reminiscences of what they did together: ‘Daddy and me cook our meals together … I like to help my daddy … I make him cups of tea … Daddy and me sit on the sofa and watch television … My daddy takes me to school … My daddy helps me with my reading … I love my daddy so much …’ and so on and so on.
I’d noticed that Adrian had gone quiet in the car and I was pretty sure I knew the reason why. Beth’s continual talk of her father was reinforcing to Adrian that he didn’t see his own daddy as much as he would have liked. While I’d gone to great lengths to reassure Adrian that his father working away couldn’t be helped and that he loved him very much, there was no doubt that Adrian missed him more than he admitted. Paula, that much younger, hadn’t known any different and was used to her father not being there during the week. But Adrian could remember a time when John had returned home every evening after work and they’d spent time together, similar to Beth’s descriptions. As I parked the car near the school and we climbed out, I tried to change the subject, but it didn’t work and Beth continued with her reminiscing. ‘My daddy calls me his little princess,’ she announced proudly.
‘That’s nice, love,’ I said. I threw Adrian a reassuring smile, but he looked away.
We entered the playground and Adrian ran off to play with his friends as he usually did. There were ten minutes before the klaxon sounded for the start of school and I waited in the playground with Beth beside me and Paula in her pushchair. I said hello to some of the other mothers I knew and then a woman with a similar-aged child to Beth came over. I’d seen her before in the playground at the start and end of school, although I didn’t know her personally.
‘Hi,’ she said pleasantly. ‘My daughter, Jenni, is a friend of Beth’s. They’re in the same class.’ I smiled and nodded as the two girls smiled shyly at each other. ‘I understand Beth’s daddy isn’t well,’ the mother continued. ‘Jenni said Beth is living with you?’
‘Yes, just for a short while, until her daddy is better,’ I confirmed.
‘Jenni would like Beth to come and play. We don’t live far from them. She could stay for tea. We’ve asked Beth before, but her father wouldn’t let her. I think he’s over-possessive.’
Not knowing the woman or the reasons for Derek’s decision not to let Beth go to Jenni’s house, I wasn’t about to agree – either that Derek was over-possessive or that Beth could go to tea. Derek had clearly had his reasons for not letting Beth go, and it wasn’t for me to overturn his decision.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ I said. ‘I’ll ask Beth’s father if it’s OK and then we’ll arrange something.’ Which seemed a fair reply to me.
‘Yeah, sure,’ she said, with a small shrug, and went off to talk to another mother. Her daughter followed. I hoped I hadn’t offended her.
‘Would you like to play at Jenni’s house if your father agrees?’ I now asked Beth.
‘I play with Jenni at school,’ Beth said.
‘Yes, I know, that’s nice, but Jenni’s mother is asking if you’d like to go and play at her house. I’ll need to ask your dad first.’
‘My daddy will say no,’ Beth said evenly. ‘He doesn’t want me going there.’
Parents of young children have the responsibility for deciding whom their children associate and play with outside of school. Derek – for whatever reason – had decided that Beth shouldn’t see Jenni and Beth had accepted that. As Beth’s foster carer, it wasn’t for me to question his decision. That was until Beth added: ‘I can’t play with children when I’m not at school. At home I play with my daddy.’
I looked at Beth carefully. ‘Do you ever have friends back to your home to play?’
‘No,’ Beth said.
‘Have you ever been to a friend’s house to play?’
‘No,’ Beth said again.
I was now thinking that Jenni’s mother may have been right when she’d said that Beth’s father was over-possessive, but I also knew it was not for me to criticize. Beth’s social worker had said that Derek had been doing a good job of raising his daughter, and there was nothing to suggest Beth wasn’t happy at home – far from it; she doted on her father.
The klaxon sounded and Adrian – now back to his normal, happy self – ran over to say goodbye. He gave Paula and me a quick kiss, called, ‘See ya later!’ to Beth and joined his friends who were lining up ready to go into school.
‘I’ll wait here for you at the end of school,’ I said to Beth.
We said goodbye and she walked over to where her class was lining up and began chatting to some of the girls. Beth seemed a sociable child and clearly had friends at school, it was just that she didn’t socialize with them outside of school, as most children her age did.
I wasn’t anticipating going into the school; there was no need. Jessie had informed the school that Beth was staying with me and the school already had my contact details from Adrian attending. The lines of children began filing into the building and I turned to leave. Then Miss Willow, Beth’s teacher, ran over. ‘I understand Beth is staying with you?’ she said, arriving at my side a little out of breath.
‘Yes, that’s right, until her father is better.’
‘Do you think we could have a chat this afternoon after school?’ she asked.
‘Yes, of course,’ I said.
‘Thank you. See you later.’ She ran back to her class to lead them into the building. Whatever was all that about? I wondered.
I returned home, cleared up the breakfast things and then spent some time playing with Paula and looking at picture books with her. Paula still had a little nap mid-morning and while she slept I took the opportunity to unpack the rest of Beth’s case. It was a very large suitcase and was taking up space in her room. I’d briefly opened it the evening before when I’d taken out Beth’s nightwear and wash bag, and Beth had also done some unpacking that morning after breakfast. I now began removing the rest of her clothes, hanging and folding them in the wardrobe and drawers. Although I didn’t take much notice of what I was unpacking, there seemed to be a lot of flimsy, frilly clothes more suitable for summer than the middle of winter.
Having taken out the clothes, I now found a towel stretched over the remaining items that felt hard to the touch. I lifted the towel to find lots of framed photographs hastily wrapped in newspaper. Foster children often bring a couple of photographs of their family with them; indeed, I encourage them do so as they take comfort in seeing pictures of their family when they can’t be with them. I usually frame the photographs and set them on the shelves in their room so they can see them from the bed at night. However, Beth’s photographs were already framed, and there were a lot of them. I