Will You Love Me? (27 page)

We smiled, and I put from my mind the thought that this would be Lucy’s only birthday party with us, for by next September she would have moved.

Chapter Twenty-One

‘No One Wants Me’

On Monday afternoon Stevie telephoned. ‘A card has arrived here in the office from Lucy’s mother,’ she said. ‘I’m due to visit you, so I’ll bring it with me. I’ve got a card for Lucy too.’ It’s usual for social workers to give the children they are responsible for a card, and sometimes they manage a small present too. ‘What time is she back from school?’ Stevie now asked.

‘Half past four.’

‘See you later then.’

When Lucy arrived home from school I told her Stevie was coming soon and that she had a birthday card for her, and also one from her mother.

‘Tell me when she’s gone,’ Lucy said, and went straight up to her room.

Lucy remained very hostile towards social workers, as she still held them responsible for not rescuing her when she’d most needed it, and also because they kept moving her and didn’t listen to what she wanted. This, of course, was without her knowing that Stevie had stopped my application to keep her.

Before Stevie arrived I checked the house for Toscha, including upstairs and in Lucy’s room, but she was nowhere to be seen, so I assumed she was out. Stevie arrived punctually at 4.30 p.m., and as soon as I opened the door she asked, ‘Is that cat out?’

‘Yes,’ I confirmed.

I showed Stevie through to the living room, told her Lucy was in her bedroom and offered her a drink, but she didn’t want anything.

‘I’ll have to see Lucy at some point,’ Stevie said, as she always did. Then added: ‘To give her the birthday cards and also update her.’

My heart clenched. ‘Update her?’ I asked. ‘Have you found Lucy a permanent family then?’ In some ways this would have been good news, as Lucy needed to be settled and for the uncertainty to end.

‘No. I need to update her about our search,’ Stevie said.

‘You mean tell her you’re still looking?’ I queried.

‘Yes.’

‘She knows,’ I said. ‘I told her after the review.’

‘Even so, as her social worker I need to tell her. She can’t just hear it from the foster carer.’

Stevie had rather a brusque manner sometimes, and even if she hadn’t refused my application to keep Lucy I think I would have struggled to like her; but then, as ‘the foster carer’, I didn’t have to like her, just work with her. I thought that updating Lucy when the only update was that they were still looking for a permanent family was unnecessary and unsettling. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to wait until a family had been found and then tell her? But I didn’t say so.

‘Lucy enjoyed her birthday and party,’ I said positively.

‘Did she invite friends from school?’ Stevie asked.

‘No. I suggested that, but Lucy said there was no one she wanted to invite, so we had a family outing. It’s what she wanted to do. Bowling and then tea here.’

Stevie nodded without a lot of enthusiasm and wrote on her notepad. ‘And you’re preparing her for moving on?’ she asked.

‘As much as I can, given that a family hasn’t been found yet. Once we know where she’s going I’ll be able to prepare her better.’

Stevie made another note.

‘I’m doing all I can to give Lucy a positive cultural identity,’ I continued. ‘And she had a good summer holiday, both here and when we went away to the coast. Would you like to see the photographs?’

‘Another day,’ she said. ‘I’m a bit pushed for time right now. Did you buy her the flag?’

‘Yes, but she doesn’t want it in her bedroom.’

‘So put it on the wall in this room then,’ Stevie said, glancing around the living room. ‘The flag doesn’t have to be in Lucy’s room. In fact, it’s better if it is down here in a communal room. Lucy will feel you are acknowledging and celebrating her culture, rather than shutting it away in her bedroom.’

I heard the criticism and bit my tongue. I knew that nothing I could say or do in respect of Lucy’s race would satisfy Stevie. I was white, Stevie was dual heritage, so she had the advantage over me when it came to knowing what was best for Lucy. It wasn’t the first time since I’d begun fostering and entered the world of the social services that I felt stigmatized for being white. I knew Stevie didn’t approve of me fostering a child with a different ethnic identity, but there hadn’t been any choice, and Lucy and I were both very happy with the arrangement.

‘I’ll find a place for the flag in here,’ I said, and continued to update Stevie on the progress Lucy had made since her last visit, as Stevie made notes. I included Lucy’s eating, that she was sleeping well, making good progress at school and was generally healthy and happy.

When I’d finished, Stevie said, ‘Well, if that’s all, I’ll go and see Lucy now.’

She tucked her notepad and pen into her bag, stood, and I led the way upstairs to Lucy’s room. Lucy’s bedroom door was shut, but she knew that Stevie would need to see her at some point. I knocked on the door and then opened it a little. ‘Stevie’s here,’ I said. ‘Can she come in?’

Lucy was sitting on the bed flicking through a magazine and, to my surprise, she replied, ‘Yes.’

‘Good girl,’ I said, pleased.

I stood aside to let Stevie in and as I moved away I heard Stevie say, ‘Hello, Lucy.’ Then I heard Stevie shriek, and both she and Toscha shot out of the room.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, grabbing the cat. ‘She must have been hiding.’ Or been hidden, I thought.

I carried Toscha downstairs, put her out the back door and returned upstairs. I would speak to Lucy later about hiding Toscha in her room. She’d gone too far this time.

‘I’ve made sure she’s out,’ I reassured Stevie, as I arrived on the landing where Stevie was still waiting. She wasn’t sneezing, so no real harm had been done, other than giving her a shock.

We returned to Lucy’s room where the door was still slightly ajar. Stevie went in. Full marks for tenacity, I thought.

‘I’ve bought you a birthday card,’ I heard her say. ‘And there’s one here from your mother.’

There was no reply from Lucy and I hovered on the landing, just to make sure they were all right. I heard Stevie say, ‘Cathy tells me you had a nice birthday and you got a new bike,’ which was a nice comment to make. Stevie was trying hard and I hoped Lucy would respond, but there was silence.

Then I heard a floorboard creek as Stevie took another step into the room. ‘I won’t keep you long,’ she said. ‘But I need to tell you what I’ve been doing to find you a permanent home. I believe Cathy told you we’ve ruled out your extended family – your gran, aunt and uncles – so we’re now concentrating on finding you a long-term foster family. You’ll be able to stay there until you’re eighteen and come out of care.’

Stevie didn’t get any further. I heard a loud crash as something hit the inside of Lucy’s bedroom door. Then Lucy was shouting at the top of her voice: ‘Get out! I hate you! Leave me alone!’ The vehemence of her anger was frightening.

Stevie rushed from the room as another object hit the inside of Lucy’s bedroom door. I went in. Lucy was standing in the middle of the room, her face set hard in anger and her eyes blazing. She had another ornament in her hand and was about to throw it. ‘Put it down,’ I said firmly. ‘You’ll be sorry later that you’ve broken your things.’

‘Don’t care. Hate you all!’ she cried. ‘Get out!’ She threw the ornament, not at me, but at the door, and it broke in two.

‘I’ll be going then,’ Stevie called from the landing. ‘I’ll let myself out.’

Lucy screamed, ‘I hate you!’ I hadn’t seen her this angry since the early days, and for a moment I thought she was going to go after Stevie. I stepped forward and, taking a chance, laid my hand lightly on her arm. ‘Calm down, Lucy,’ I said. ‘Take some deep breaths and calm down.’

She pulled her arm away and reached for another ornament. ‘Don’t!’ I said sharply. ‘You don’t need to do this. I understand why you’re upset.’

‘I hate you all!’ she cried again. ‘I wish I’d never been born.’ Then she threw the ornament onto the floor and collapsed, sobbing, into my arms.

Standing in the middle of the room, I held her and soothed her until her sobbing gradually eased. Once she was calmer, I reached for a tissue from the box and gently wiped her face. ‘There, that’s better,’ I said. I could hear Paula and Adrian on the landing, clearly worried for Lucy. ‘It’s all right,’ I called. ‘We’ll be with you shortly.’

I drew Lucy to the edge of the bed and we sat side by side. I took her hand gently in mine. ‘Feeling a bit better now?’

She gave a small nod. ‘I wish I wasn’t in care,’ she said, her anger now replaced by sorrow. ‘I wish I didn’t have social workers. I just want to be normal, like other kids. Like Adrian and Paula. I didn’t ask to be born. I wish I hadn’t been. No one wants me.’

‘Oh, love,’ I said. Slipping my arm around her, I held her close.

While I felt desperately sorry for Lucy and wanted to say something to help her, I knew I had to be careful in what I said. ‘I want you,’ I said. ‘And so will your permanent family, when Stevie finds them.’

Lucy shrugged. ‘Maybe. I just wish she wouldn’t keep going on about it. It makes me angry and upset.’

‘I understand, love.’

She was quiet for a few moments and then, leaning forward, she picked up one of the two birthday cards that were lying on the floor. ‘I’ve got a card from my mum,’ she said, showing me.

‘That’s lovely,’ I said. The card had a pretty picture of a bouquet of flowers on the front, but it didn’t say ‘To My Daughter’ or similar. It was a general birthday card of the type you might send an acquaintance.

‘She’s written inside,’ Lucy said, now opening the card and holding it for me to read.

The printed words in the card said: Happy Birthday. May your day be special. Then underneath Lucy’s mother had written:
Have a lovely day. I know you will. I hope you get lots of presents. I’ll give you something next time I see you. Love Bonnie (Mum).

It seemed a distant message from a mother to a daughter, but in some ways appropriate, given the distance I’d previously witnessed between them. Lucy’s only comment was: ‘She’ll forget.’

‘Forget what?’

‘To buy me a present. She always does. I don’t mind. She can’t help it.’ As with all her mother’s other failings and shortcomings, Lucy forgave her mother. I was touched. I doubt I would have been so forgiving in her place.

‘You’re a lovely person,’ I said, and gave her a hug.

She shrugged and I kissed her cheek.

‘Shall we put your card on the mantelpiece in the living room with your others?’ I suggested.

Lucy nodded and then picked up the card from Stevie, which was still on the floor. ‘I’d better put this one on show too,’ she said.

‘That would be nice.’ I smiled.

We went out of Lucy’s room. Paula was still on the landing and she came with us downstairs. We both watched Lucy position the two cards beside the others on the mantelpiece, making five in all. It was a nice display. In our house, birthday cards usually stay on show for a couple of weeks after the child’s birthday and I then put them safely away.

Lucy and Paula watched some television while I made dinner. We were eating later than usual and I assumed everyone would be hungry. Lucy, however, hardly ate anything – far less than usual – and I thought that, while outwardly she seemed to have recovered from her upset with Stevie, inside she was still hurting and in turmoil. I’d noted before that distress caused Lucy’s eating to plummet, and I’d learnt from my reading that this was her way of trying to regain some control in her life.

‘I’m really not hungry,’ Lucy said, pushing her plate away. So I cleared away and hoped that, as had happened before, her eating would improve when she was completely over the upset. I wondered if Stevie fully appreciated the impact her words would have on Lucy. It was a week before she was eating normally again.

I hung the Thai flag on the wall in the living room as Stevie had suggested, and two weeks later I took it down – at Lucy’s insistence. Apart from it looking slightly ridiculous – I mean, how many people have a big flag hanging in their living room? – visitors naturally asked why it was there. I then had to explain that Lucy’s father was Thai, which to Lucy – who just wanted to blend in and have a normal family life – singled her out and made her feel conspicuous. Lucy complained, so I took down the flag and continued as I had been doing, by educating Lucy on her cultural heritage in more subtle and, I would say, more meaningful ways.

September gave way to October and autumn arrived. The leaves changed from green to magnificent shades of orange, yellow, red and brown. At the weekends we put on our coats and boots and, bracing ourselves for the chilly air, went for walks in the woods, where we collected pine cones and saw squirrels burying acorns for the winter. The days shortened and the nights drew in, and although I love summer I think there is something cosy and comforting in being at home on a cold, dark evening, when the curtains are drawn, the lights are on and the fire glows, and the family is safely cocooned away from the outside word.

At the end of October we celebrated Halloween. The children dressed up in scary costumes and I went with them to those neighbours who had a pumpkin in their porch, confirming that they welcomed trick or treaters. Then, on Guy Fawkes Night, we went to a fireworks display on the playing fields at Paula’s school. As usual there was a huge bonfire built by the parents, staff and pupils, and a dazzling display of fireworks. After the display, while the bonfire crackled in the night air, we stood in small groups and chatted with other families as we ate barbecued hot dogs with fried onions and lashings of tomato ketchup.

Christmas was now fast approaching and by the end of November most of the shops were festively decorated and selling Christmas gifts. Some even had Christmas music playing. I hadn’t heard from Stevie since she’d visited us in September, and she was now well overdue for her next visit. It crossed my mind that perhaps Lucy’s reaction to her on her last visit had upset Stevie more than she’d shown at the time, although as a social worker she would have had to deal with a lot worse than Lucy throwing a few ornaments and tormenting her with the cat. Lucy only had to see Stevie or hear her name mentioned and she became angry and upset. I hoped Stevie wouldn’t make her next visit too close to Christmas, as I didn’t want Lucy upset over the festive period. However, when Jill next visited – the first week in December – she said, ‘Stevie has left the department and has gone to work for another authority. Her post won’t be filled until after Christmas, so if you need to contact the department in the meantime, phone her team manager.’