can read it,’ she said. ‘But don’t talk to me about it. That’s what Gran does.’
‘OK.’ I’d wait until she’d been with me longer and I’d had a chance to speak to her social worker, Becky, on Monday. I didn’t want to upset Faye, but on the other hand she needed to know how her pregnancy was progressing and how the baby would be born. Perhaps she already knew about childbirth, but it was possible she didn’t. If not, I had some literature that I used with children that would help explain the process.
I continued going through the folder, looking for the appointment schedule, without making any further comment while Faye gazed around the room. I found a note saying that Faye wouldn’t be attending the standard antenatal classes, nor the workshop on breastfeeding, as it wasn’t considered appropriate, but she would join the group for a tour of the maternity unit. I didn’t know if it wasn’t considered appropriate because of her learning difficulties or because she was giving up the baby. Becky had said that she hoped being away from her grandparents might encourage Faye to start opening up and maybe identify the baby’s father and the circumstances in which they’d met, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen while she denied the existence of a baby. However, it was still early days.
Once I’d found the list of appointments I closed the folder. ‘Good. Everything is going well,’ I said with a cheerful smile. ‘Do you have any questions?’
‘Not about that,’ she said, prodding the folder. ‘But can I play with Sammy?’
‘Yes, of course, if he’s in the house.’
‘I’ll go and look for him,’ she said. She stood and with childlike enthusiasm went off in search of Sammy. I heard her go upstairs and then Paula’s voice on the landing as they began a conversation. I put away the folder and went into the kitchen to begin the preparations for dinner. Sammy wasn’t in the house, but as soon as he heard me in the kitchen he shot in through the cat flap in search of his dinner.
Adrian texted to say he’d be having dinner with Kirsty and would see us later, so the girls and I ate together at around six o’clock. Faye had a good appetite but ate and drank using the same slow, measured movements with which she approached everything. When she’d finished she carefully set her knife and fork in the centre of her clean plate.
‘You’re a pleasure to cook for,’ I said.
‘It was nice,’ she said. ‘Better than we have at home.’
‘You shouldn’t say that,’ Lucy admonished with a laugh.
‘But it’s true!’ Faye protested. With her naïve approach to life and lack of inhibition, she said things as she saw them, unencumbered by tact or diplomacy.
‘Do you or your grandparents cook?’ I asked lightly, making conversation.
‘We all do it,’ she said. ‘But we have the food in plastic trays that you put in the microwave.’
‘Ready meals?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
I guessed that cooking, like many domestic tasks, would be difficult for her grandparents with their restricted mobility, so convenience meals were a practical option. ‘Would you like me to show you how to cook some easy meals?’ I offered. ‘The cheese and broccoli bake we just had is very quick and simple.’
‘Yes, please,’ she said. ‘My grandpa will like that too. He doesn’t like plastic food. He says you can’t tell if you’re eating the container or the food.’ She chuckled, and I could see where she got her sense of humour.
After dinner everyone helped clear the table and then Faye said she wanted to watch television. Lucy went with her into the living room while Paula went upstairs to wash her hair. I took the opportunity to telephone Mum, using the phone in the hall. I always began by asking her how she was, and as usual she said, ‘I’m fine, dear, you mustn’t worry about me.’ Which didn’t really answer my question. Mum was of a generation who rarely shared their problems and just got on with life.
‘What have you been doing today?’ I asked, as I often did.
‘Oh, you know, this and that. Keeping busy. How has your day been? Is your young lady with you?’ Which of course directed the conversation away from her to me.
‘Yes, Faye’s here and settling in,’ I said. ‘She seems happy enough.’
‘Good. I’ll look forward to meeting her. I expect you’re busy with everyone, so don’t worry about me. Thanks for phoning, love.’ And so she wound up the conversation and a minute or so later we said goodbye. Mum never wanted to be any trouble, and while she always listened to any problems we might have, I had little idea of hers. I just hoped she was coping without Dad as she led us to believe, but it was difficult to tell.
Faye watched television for the rest of the evening, and I realized she had an even greater capacity for the soaps than Lucy, who was texting as she watched. I joined them for a short while. Paula was in her bedroom listening to music as she dried her hair. At nine o’clock, as the soaps finished, Faye said it was her bedtime. Obviously this was early for a twenty-four-year-old, but being pregnant could have made her tire more easily, and also it wasn’t for me to disrupt her usual routine. I asked her if she normally had a hot drink before she went to bed and she said no, just a glass of water. She came with me into the kitchen and I showed her where the glasses were, and then I waited while she filled one from the cold tap. As it was her first night with us I said I’d go with her and make sure she had everything she needed. She said goodnight to Lucy as we passed the living room and then called goodnight to Paula through her bedroom door. ‘Goodnight, Faye,’ Paula sang out. Adrian wasn’t home yet.
Having checked that Faye had everything she needed, I waited on the landing while she was in the bathroom, changing, washing and getting ready for bed. She said she didn’t have a bath every night, as she had to take turns with her gran and grandpa, so it was every third night. I assumed that this was because her grandparents, with their disabilities, took a while to bath or shower, so they only had time for one per night. I told her she could have a bath or shower every night while she was staying with me, but she said it was OK, as she’d had a bath the night before. Again, I wasn’t about to disrupt her routine, but when she’d been with me longer I’d suggest she showered or bathed every day, as my family and I did.
Faye took a long time washing, changing and brushing her teeth, and when she came out of the bathroom she was in her pyjamas, the buttons on the jacket straining over her bump.
‘When we go shopping tomorrow,’ I said, ‘we can buy you some nice new pyjamas that aren’t so tight, or a nightdress. What do you think?’
‘Yes, please,’ she said, smiling. ‘Thank you. I’m looking forward to going shopping for new holiday clothes.’ She gave me another big hug. I didn’t correct her and say ‘maternity clothes’. I didn’t want to upset her.
I went with her to her bedroom and checked again that she had everything she needed. I told her there was a night-light on the landing that stayed on, so she would be able to see if she needed to go to the toilet. I reminded her where my bedroom was and that she should come and find me or call me if she needed anything in the night, but not to go wandering downstairs by herself in the dark, just as I did with the children I fostered. She said she understood. I then asked her if she’d like her curtains closed or open (she said closed), the light on or off (she slept with it off, and the door closed). Small details, but they are important in helping a young person to settle in a strange room. Snuggles was already in bed and Faye climbed in and pulled the duvet up to her chin.
‘Comfortable?’ I asked.
‘Yes. Very comfortable,’ she said. Just her little face peeped over the duvet. She pressed Snuggles to her cheek and then kissed him. ‘Grandpa kisses Snuggles and me goodnight,’ she said. ‘Gran can’t bend down any more.’ She smiled.
‘Would you like me to kiss you goodnight?’ I asked. Some children want a goodnight kiss, others don’t, so I always ask,