Thankfully when Edith returned my call an hour later she said Maggie could help and she’d phone me to arrange the details. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Chapter Four
Maggie telephoned ten minutes after Edith, bright and bubbly, and very willing to help. ‘I hear you’ve got two little ones. That’ll make a nice change,’ she said.
‘Yes, although they’re missing their parents dreadfully and we’ve been up all night.’
‘Join the club. Anyway, happy to help. As the children have only just been placed with you, I suggest I come to you to look after them, rather than you bringing them here, so they don’t have another change of house.’
‘Yes, please. That would be perfect.’ I had thought similar myself.
‘I’ll have to bring Keelie with me,’ Maggie said. ‘She’s been excluded from school again. But she’s good with kids and can help me. What time do you want us?’
‘The meeting is at one o’clock so twelve-thirty would be good.’
‘Fine. We’ll see you then.’
‘Thank you so much.’
‘You’re welcome.’
I knew Keelie. She was thirteen and Maggie and her husband had been fostering her for four years. She’d always shown some challenging behaviour, as it’s called, but since she’d hit puberty it had got a lot worse – staying out at night, drinking, smoking and generally getting into trouble at home, school and with the police. I guessed she was the reason Maggie had been up all night. Thankfully she and her husband were highly experienced foster carers and were taking it in their stride. Keelie was with them long term so was a permanent member of their family.
I explained to Molly and Kit what was going to happen – that my friend, Maggie, and a ‘big girl’ called Keelie were coming to look after them while I went to a meeting, and I would come back later. I didn’t tell them I was going to meet their parents, as it would have been confusing and upsetting for them. Both children just looked at me. I didn’t expect Kit to understand, but Molly should have some understanding of what I’d said.
The morning disappeared. I stayed in the living room for most of it, trying to engage the children in play. I had some success, although I wouldn’t call it playing. They looked at and held the toys, games and puzzles as I showed them, but didn’t actually play. Sammy came to investigate and to begin with was as nervous of them as they were of him. I showed them how to stroke his fur smoothly – running their hands down from his head to his tail. Neither of the children had shown any signs of a fur allergy, and coupled with their father telling Tess he didn’t think they had any allergies I was reasonably confident they weren’t allergic to cat fur at least.
At twelve noon I made us a sandwich lunch, followed by fruit, which they ate. Some children won’t eat fruit and vegetables when they first come into care, as these foods have never been part of their diet. But Molly and Kit ate the sliced banana, tangerine segments and halved grapes I arranged in little pots. Because the fruit could be eaten using fingers, Kit fed himself. They ate slowly and unenthusiastically, but at least they ate. I smiled and praised them. ‘Do you have food like this at home?’ I asked without thinking, and I could have kicked myself.
‘I want to go home,’ Molly said, rubbing her eyes as if about to cry at the reminder of home. ‘I want my mummy.’
‘Mummy, Mummy,’ Kit said, his bottom lip trembling.
‘It’s OK. You’ll see her soon.’ I gave them a hug and took out some more toys to distract them.
Maggie and Keelie arrived just before 12.30 and the children came with me to the front door.
‘Hello, baby!’ Keelie squealed excitedly as soon as she saw Kit. She rushed in and picked him up.
‘Steady,’ Maggie warned her. ‘He’s already got one broken arm, he doesn’t want another one.’
I smiled while Keelie scowled at her, and Kit just looked bemused.
‘How are you, Keelie?’ I asked her as we went through to the living room. I hadn’t seen her for a few months.
‘Excluded,’ she said as if this was her sole purpose in life and her claim to fame. ‘Suits me. I don’t like school and I get a lie-in.’
Maggie threw me a knowing look. Many schools have stopped the practice of excluding pupils for bad behaviour for this reason. It’s counter-productive. Why should a young person who’s got into trouble be rewarded with time off while their hard-working classmates are busy at school? Also having them unoccupied for large periods of time is likely to lead to more trouble.
‘She’s going back to school on Monday,’ Maggie said. Keelie was exploring the toy box with more enthusiasm than the children.
‘In your dreams,’ she retorted. But I knew she would be in school on Monday. Maggie and her husband would make sure of it, just as they had all the other times she’d been excluded. They knew when to be firm.
‘Help yourself to whatever you want,’ I told Maggie. ‘You know where the tea, coffee and biscuits are. Clean nappies and wipes are in their bedroom if you need them. I should be back around two-thirty. I’ve tried to explain to Molly and Kit what is happening,’ I said, glancing at then, ‘but not who I’m meeting.’
She nodded. ‘I understand. Don’t worry. They’ll be fine.’
‘Do they talk?’ Keelie asked. The children were standing in silence, watching her as she continued to explore the toys and games.
‘Molly does a little,’ I said. ‘It’s likely Kit will have some language at his age. But they only arrived yesterday, so they are both shy.’
‘Was I shy?’ Keelie asked Maggie, glancing up at her.
‘No, love, shyness wasn’t really your thing. You showed your upset in other ways.’
‘I bet I was a right pain in the arse.’ Keelie grinned.
‘Not as much as you are now,’ Maggie replied affectionately, and they both laughed. Despite their banter, I knew how close they were and that Maggie and her husband had worked wonders with Keelie and loved her, as I was sure Keelie loved them.
I said goodbye and drove to the council offices, where I parked in a side road. It was a bright, sunny day and the early-September sun still had some strength in it. I signed in at the reception desk, completing the boxes that asked the reason for my visit and my time of arrival.
‘Which room is the meeting in?’ I asked the receptionist as I hung the security pass around my neck.
‘Room six on the second floor.’
I thanked her and began up the staircase. I’d been here before. Most of the social services meetings were in rooms on the second floor. I was anxious at meeting the children’s parents, Aneta and Filip, for the first time, but I reassured myself I’d met countless parents during my fostering career, and that they were likely to be as anxious as me. When I’d fostered for Homefinders Jill had accompanied me to most meetings,