A Terrible Secret
My call went through to Isa’s voicemail and I left a message explaining what had happened. Ten minutes later Isa returned the call. ‘I got your message. So Tilly’s on her way home?’
‘Yes. She seemed settled last night. She ate with us, did some unpacking and slept well, but then her mother phoned this morning, upset.’
‘Do you know why she’s upset?’
‘No, Tilly didn’t say, only that her mother needed her.’
‘Has Tilly got her phone with her?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll phone her now and try to persuade her to return to you, but I won’t be able to do much more until this afternoon. I’m about to go into court for an emergency protection hearing.’ I knew social workers often carried huge caseloads and were stretched to the limit.
I thanked her, and then waited for news.
Fostering a teenager is clearly different from fostering a baby or young child. Teenagers have the ability to make their own decisions, although they don’t always have the life experience to make the best ones. I’d been anticipating a pleasant day helping Tilly unpack, spending time with her and getting to know her better. Now I was left with uncertainty, worry, a row of black bin liners on the landing and the ornaments I’d done my best to repair.
Half an hour later Paula came downstairs. ‘Where’s Tilly?’ she asked. ‘Her bedroom door is open but she’s not there.’
‘Against advice she’s gone to her mother’s,’ I said. ‘I’ve informed her social worker and I’m hoping to hear something before long.’
As Paula made herself some breakfast the landline rang and I quickly answered it, but it was my mother phoning for a chat. Since my father had died a few years previously, we spoke regularly on the phone and saw each other most weekends. We talked for a while, although I didn’t tell her about Tilly as it would only have worried her and there was nothing she could do. She and my father, when he was alive, had always been very supportive of me fostering, and also when my husband had left me many years before. Mum would meet Tilly at some point, assuming Tilly returned to us. Once I’d finished talking to Mum, Paula spoke to her, then she returned upstairs to get dressed.
An hour passed and I assumed I wouldn’t hear from Isa until this afternoon when she’d come out of court and had had a chance to speak to Tilly and her mother. However, five minutes later my mobile rang and to my surprise Tilly’s number came up.
‘Hello. Are you all right?’ I asked.
‘No. I haven’t got my bus fare back.’
‘Can’t your mother give it to you?’ Had Tilly not left in such a hurry, I would have checked she had enough for her return journey.
‘I’ve already left and I don’t want to go back and ask her.’ Tilly sounded moody rather than upset.
‘Where are you now?’
‘At the petrol station at the end of my road, and I’m freezing.’
‘I’ll come and fetch you, but it’s going to take me at least fifteen minutes to get there. Wait inside the shop.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, subdued.
She couldn’t have been with her mother for very long before it had all gone wrong. Doubtless I would find out in time what had happened, and hopefully this had taught Tilly a lesson. I made a note of the postcode of her mother’s home address from the essential information form, and then went upstairs and told Paula where I was going.
‘Be careful, Mum,’ she said, concerned. ‘The roads are icy. There have already been some accidents.’ She had newsfeeds on her phone.
‘I will,’ I said, and kissed her goodbye.
Downstairs I took my coat from the hall stand and went out into the cold morning air. The car still had a layer of frost on it. While I waited for the windscreen to defrost, I entered the postcode of Tilly’s house into my satnav, then carefully pulled away. The side roads were treacherous, as they hadn’t been gritted, but the main road was clear. I knew roughly where I was going but not the exact location. Although Tilly had disrupted my day, I was pleased she’d had the sense to phone me and hadn’t panicked. Eventually I approached her road and saw the petrol station, and then Tilly standing outside. She looked very cold, coat collar up and stamping her feet to keep warm.
I pulled up and she got into the passenger seat. ‘Couldn’t you have waited in the shop?’ I asked her.
‘The guy in charge said if I wasn’t buying anything I had to wait outside.’
I tutted. I would have liked to have gone in and given him a piece of my mind, but I didn’t. I waited for Tilly to fasten her seatbelt, then drove off. Her hands were so cold they were trembling.
‘Haven’t you got any gloves?’ I asked.
‘I forgot them.’ Here was something else I could have checked she had with her had she not left the house in such a hurry.
‘Did Isa phone you?’ I asked after a few moments.
‘Yes, but I didn’t answer.’
‘Why not?’ I glanced at her.
She shrugged.
‘So what happened at your mother’s?’
‘We had another argument.’
‘About what?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Because?’
‘I’ll just get upset again.’ Her voice caught.
‘OK. You know you can tell me if you want to.’
She gave a small nod but was then silent for the rest of the journey, occasionally checking her phone.
Once home, I telephoned Isa and left a message on her voicemail saying I’d collected Tilly and she was with me. I made a hot lunch for us and Paula, which the three of us ate at the table in the kitchen-diner. Paula and I tried to make some conversation, but Tilly was very quiet. After lunch I gave Tilly the china ornaments I’d repaired and her allowance for the week, which she thanked me for. I suggested we did some more of her unpacking and she reluctantly agreed. We managed three bags before she said she’d had enough. I knew she was feeling very unsettled.
‘Do you want to talk about what happened this morning?’ I asked her.
‘Not really. Nothing has changed at home. I just wish she’d leave him.’
‘I understand, but that has to be your mother’s decision. My priority is to keep you safe, so in future I don’t want you rushing off home. Isa is going to speak to your mother about how the two of you can see each other. OK?’
She nodded.
‘Good.’
But the following morning exactly the same thing happened. Tilly’s mother phoned her, distraught, and Tilly rushed out of the front door.
Chapter Four
New Year
I hadn’t heard any more from Isa, so at 9.a.m., with Tilly on her way to see her mother and not answering my call, I phoned her. If a looked-after child is away from the placement without authorization – as Tilly was – then their social worker needs to know.
‘I got your message,’ Isa said straight away. ‘Thanks for collecting Tilly yesterday. I didn’t have a chance to call you. It was too late by the time I’d placed the children we brought into care.’
‘Tilly’s gone again,’ I said bluntly, ‘despite all I said to her. Her mother phoned upset around eight-thirty this morning and Tilly is on her way there now. I’ve tried calling her mobile but she’s not answering.’
Isa sighed. I guessed this was the last thing she needed to hear after a previously busy day. ‘I’ll phone her and ask her to return,’ she said.
‘Hopefully she’ll answer. But, really, it’s her mother who needs to stop putting her under pressure. Tilly is angry with her, but at the same time she can’t ignore her cries for help. She’s not going to settle like this. Doesn’t Heather have any friends who can support her?’
‘Apparently not.’ Which is what Tilly had told me. ‘She’s very isolated. I’m trying to help her, but it is difficult. I’ll call Heather as well as Tilly.’
‘Thank you. Just one more thing. Tilly hasn’t seen her maternal grandmother in a long time, and she would like to. I said I’d tell you.’
‘I’ll mention it to Heather. I must go. I’ll phone Tilly now before my first meeting.’ I could hear office noise in the background as the call ended.
I now faced another day of uncertainty and I couldn’t go far from home in case Tilly suddenly reappeared. I purposely hadn’t given her a front door key and I wouldn’t until she had proved herself trustworthy and mature enough to own one. I’d learnt the hard way many years before, when I’d first started fostering. Wanting to make the young person feel at home, I’d given them a key straight away and they’d abused it by stealing from me. Now those I fostered who were of an age to have their own front door key had one when I could be sure they would use it responsibly. Some of the social workers didn’t agree with this, but ultimately it was my house and I needed to keep us all safe. I always made sure I was home to let in the young person, so they were never left waiting on the doorstep. If they decided to return home unexpectedly then they knew they could phone or text me and I’d arrive very quickly.
I cleared up the breakfast things and then set about doing some administrative work that I did mainly from home for a local firm. As I sat at my computer filling in spreadsheets, Isa telephoned between meetings. She said she’d spoken to Heather and Tilly, and had agreed that Tilly could stay at her mother’s for two hours and then she’d return to me. ‘I’ve also suggested to them both we have a meeting to discuss contact arrangements,’ she added.
‘Good idea.’
‘I’ve provisionally booked next Tuesday, the day before the new term starts. Nine o’clock, here at the council offices. Heather says Dave will want to be there.’
I made a note of this on the pad beside the phone. ‘Shall I tell Tilly?’
‘I think her mother will have done so already, but check.’
We said goodbye. I wrote the appointment in my diary and continued to work on the spreadsheets. I doubted Tilly would be pleased Dave was going to the meeting, but it might help calm the situation if we all got together and talked and agreed on contact arrangements.
As I continued with my work it occurred to me that I hadn’t heard from Edith, my supervising social worker (SSW), for some time. All foster carers in the UK have a supervising social worker. Their role is to monitor and support the carer and their family in all aspects of fostering. They also act as a link between the child’s social worker and the carer. Often the referral for the child comes through the SSW, although that hadn’t happened with Tilly. I assumed Edith was still on holiday, as many workers had taken the whole week off between Christmas and New Year. I could manage fine without her, but new carers need the support and guidance of a good SSW.
Half an hour later the doorbell rang and it was Tilly, earlier than expected. She was clearly not in a good mood.
‘Dave phoned Mum from work and said he was on his way back, so I left,’ she said, scowling. ‘He does it just to check up on her. He phones and she jumps.’
‘Hopefully we can get some better contact arrangements in place at the meeting next Tuesday. Isa told you about that?’
‘Yes, but I’m not going if he’s there. My life has nothing to do with him.’
‘Well, it does really, love,’ I said. She took off her coat and threw it over the hall stand. ‘Dave is your stepfather and is living with your mother. I know you don’t like him, but it might help if we all sit down and talk.’
‘I’m not talking to him,’ she said fiercely. ‘He’s a control freak. Mum could have come to the meeting alone, but he has to be there. And the reason the meeting is so frigging early is because of him. So he doesn’t have to miss work!’ Which seemed reasonable to me. ‘And he’s stalking me online,’ she added.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, immediately concerned, and looked at Tilly carefully as she took off her trainers.
‘He sent Facebook friendship requests to people in my class and some of them were stupid enough to accept. He’s been messaging them and asking about me.’
‘Have you told Isa this?’
‘No, I only just found out. My friend Abby phoned me while I was on the bus.’
‘We’ll need to tell Isa.’ I didn’t like the sound of this. ‘In the meantime, your friends could “unfriend” him and ignore or even block his messages.’
‘They could if they wanted but he’s charming to them. Some of them like the attention. Abby sees through him because she knows what he’s like. Can I have some lunch, please? There was nothing at Mum’s. He hasn’t taken her shopping.’
‘Yes, of course. But doesn’t your mother go food shopping alone?’ I asked, surprised.
‘There wouldn’t be any point as she never has any money. Also, she gets very anxious about going out alone. She never does it. He makes sure of that.’
‘I see.’ The more I learnt about Dave the more I disliked him and the more worried I was for Heather. ‘Does your mother not realize his behaviour is very controlling?’ I asked Tilly.
‘I’m not sure. He’s always been like it – well, for as long as I can remember. Can I have a sandwich?’
‘Yes.’
I called up to Paula, who was in her bedroom doing some college work, and asked her if she’d like lunch too. ‘Yes, please. Toasted cheese sandwich,’ came her reply.
Tilly said she’d like the same and came with me into the kitchen. As I made the toasties I said to her, ‘I know it’s difficult for you at present, but I don’t think running to your mother every time she phones is good for either of you.’
‘She won’t be phoning me again,’ she returned. ‘Dave checked the calls on the house phone and saw my mobile number come up. He has banned her from calling me again. He checks bloody everything she does!’
‘It is abusive control,’ I said, horrified by what Heather was going through. ‘Does he hit her?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Did he hit you?’
‘No, but he threatened to.’
‘He sounds nasty. I know you worry about your mother and I’m worried about her too, but there’s nothing much you can do. It will need to come from her.’
‘She won’t do anything. She’s too scared of him,’ Tilly said. ‘Pity she can’t come here to live.’
I smiled weakly. Of course that wasn’t an option. ‘Isa is giving your mother some support, so let’s hope that helps.’ But I could tell from Tilly’s expression she was very doubtful. She’d lived with her mother and stepfather so knew them better than Isa or me. I felt sorry for Heather, but helping Tilly and keeping her safe was my priority.
Once the toasties were ready, Paula, Tilly and I sat at the table and had lunch together. In the afternoon Paula went to see a friend who was having a New Year Eve’s party at her parents’ house and wanted some help getting it ready. I suggested to Tilly that we unpack some more of her bags and she sighed but agreed to do a few. As we worked, I asked her if she had any plans for tomorrow – New Year’s Eve. I wasn’t just making conversation; if she was going out, I needed to know where she was going and how she was getting home. Tilly said she hadn’t any plans to go out and didn’t really feel like partying.
‘We could see in the New Year together,’ I offered. ‘I expect Adrian and Lucy will be out.’
‘Do they have lots of friends?’ she asked as we set about the second bag.
‘I suppose they do. We’ve lived in the same area since they were little, so we know a lot of people.’
‘I’ve got friends at school, but I never felt able to invite them home,’ Tilly admitted sadly. ‘It would have been too embarrassing with Mum and Dave the way they are.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘I’ve been to some of my friends’ houses, but it’s awkward if you can never invite them back.’
I understood. ‘Well, if you want to invite a couple of your friends here to see in the New Year, that’s fine with me as long as their parents agree.’
She stopped what she was doing and her eyes rounded in amazement. ‘Do you mean it?’ she exclaimed.
‘Yes, of course. Your friends are welcome here, although I would like some notice if they are staying for dinner any time.’
She smiled. ‘Fantastic! Thank you so much! I’ll ask Abby. She’s my best friend and she knows I’m in care and living here. Shall I phone her now?’
‘Yes, love, if you wish. Suggest she stays the night and I’ll take her home in the morning. If her mother wants to speak to me then put her on.’
I was pleased. It was important Tilly felt she could invite friends back. It was her home while she was with us. She phoned Abby straight away. She hadn’t any plans for New Year either and jumped at the idea of joining Tilly. ‘I’ll call you later,’ Tilly told her. ‘I’ve got to finish my unpacking now.’
Which is exactly what we did. Spurred on by wanting her room to look nice for when Abby stayed, Tilly worked diligently. An hour later we’d unpacked all the bags. Her clothes were hanging neatly in the wardrobe or folded in the drawers, and her books and knick-knacks were on the shelves with the ornaments I’d repaired, together with the photograph of her grandmother. It was starting to look like home. I got rid of all the dustbin liners. If and when Tilly eventually left us it would be with her belongings packed in cases, not thrown in bin bags.
Tilly spent the rest of the afternoon on her phone to Abby planning their New Year’s Eve celebration, which I understood included pizza, popcorn, ice cream and soft drinks. It was lovely to see Tilly so enthusiastic and happy. My own children took it for granted that their friends were always welcome, but for Tilly, like many children I’d fostered, inviting friends home was a first for her.
After dinner Tilly spent some time choosing what she was going to wear the following evening. Although it was just her and Abby, planning the event and dressing up gave it a sense of occasion. She had plenty of clothes to choose from and she told me that Dave had given her a generous clothing allowance as he liked her to look nice.
‘What about your mother?’ I asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable about this remark. ‘Does she have a clothing allowance, too?’
‘No. He buys what she needs.’
I didn’t say anything as I didn’t want to dampen Tilly’s spirits with talk of Dave, but here was another example of coercive control. I was sure Heather was a victim of domestic abuse whether she knew it or not.
As I thought might happen, Adrian was seeing in the New Year with his long-time girlfriend, Kirsty, and Lucy with Darren. They were both spending the night with their partners, so I wasn’t expecting them home until New Year’s Day.
‘Remember, we’re going to have that chat tomorrow,’ I reminded Lucy before she went out in the evening.
‘Yes, I know,’ she said and, kissing my cheek, left.
Abby’s parents dropped her off at 7.30 on their way to a party. They didn’t come in and Abby said one of them would collect her the following morning at 11 o’clock. Tilly had their evening planned so I left them to it. Paula was at a friend’s party and I sat in the living room and telephoned my mother to wish her a Happy New Year, as I knew she wouldn’t be staying up until midnight. I then settled down to watch a film. I’d received invitations to a couple of parties, but I’d sent my apologies when Tilly had arrived. It wouldn’t have been appropriate for me to leave her and Abby in the house alone, and it was more important that Tilly had a good time after all she’d been through. However, ten minutes later a friend of mine, Marie, who lived in the next road, texted:
My plans for the evening have fallen through.
If you are in, I could come round with a bottle of wine?
I texted back: Yes. Great. See you soon.
Twenty minutes later Marie arrived, dressed up, with two bottles of wine, one red and one white, and in the mood to party. We went into the living room where I put on some music and opened the first bottle of wine. Tilly and Abby were in Tilly’s bedroom with their music on loud, laughing and having fun. Halfway through the first glass of wine Marie told me that the reason she was suddenly free was because the guy she’d been dating had just dumped her.
‘That wasn’t very nice of him on New Year’s Eve,’ I said.
‘Never mind, there’s plenty more fish in the sea,’ she said brightly, refilling her glass. ‘You should try online dating.’
‘I don’t go looking for trouble,’ I joked. ‘It comes to me.’
Marie found dates online easily, but all her romances seemed to end the same way. A few months of intense dating and then it was all over. My feeling was that it had something to do with the nature of online dating. It was so easy to find a date that no one was interested in building and sustaining a relationship. She already appeared to be over this one and moving on, and proved it by messaging a guy who’d been in touch using the website’s dating app on her phone. She showed me some of the guys’ profiles she thought might interest me. It was a laugh if nothing else and she refilled her glass again.
Marie and I joined up with Tilly and Abby to eat pizza and ice cream, and then later at midnight to see in the New Year. We gathered in the living room with the television on so we could see and hear Big Ben. We counted down to midnight and as the clock struck we sang ‘Auld Lang Syne’ together with the revellers gathered in London. My children and I texted each other ‘Happy New Year’, as did some of my other friends. Marie’s phone was busy too, and not just with messages from her family and friends, but guys from the dating website. By the time she left at one o’clock she was very tipsy as she’d drunk most of the wine, but we’d had fun.
Before I went to bed I checked on Sammy, as fireworks were going off outside, then I went upstairs. I lay in bed listening to the fireworks, party-goers on their way home, and Tilly and Abby laughing. We’d all had a good evening. I’ve found before that often these small impromptu get-togethers are just as much fun as big organized events.
Then my thoughts turned again to Lucy. It was now New Year’s Day and she’d promised that when she returned she would tell me her decision. I was filled with dread and longing.
Chapter Five
Lucy’s Decision
The following morning, I briefly met Abby’s father when he collected her at eleven o’clock. He was very pleasant and thanked me for having Abby and wished me a Happy New Year. Tilly then came with me to collect Paula from her friend’s house. Paula could have caught the bus home, but it was a bank holiday so there was a reduced service and she might have ended up waiting a long time. Paula had had fun but was very tired, as was Tilly, so once home, both girls went up to their rooms for a lie-down. It wasn’t long before they were asleep.
An hour passed and I was sitting in the living room with Sammy when Lucy let herself in the front door. Immediately my heart rate increased. ‘Hi, love, I’m in here,’ I called, my voice unsteady.
I heard her take off her coat and shoes, and then she came into the living room.
‘Did you have a nice evening?’ I asked her.
‘Yes, although I fell asleep before midnight. I’ve been quite tired lately. I think it’s the –’ She stopped, leaving the sentence half complete. ‘Darren and I stayed in and had a takeaway,’ she said. ‘I didn’t have any alcohol. It’s not good for the –’ Another unfinished sentence, but I could guess what she’d been going to say.
She sat down beside me on the sofa. ‘You look worried, Mum,’ she said, taking my hand between hers.
‘I am.’
‘Because of me?’ I nodded. ‘I’m sorry, but I needed time to think, to be certain I am doing the right thing. I know what it feels like to be an unwanted child.’