Читать книгу Daddy’s Little Princess and Will You Love Me 2-in-1 Collection - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 14

A chill ran down my spine as Marianne concentrated on the cup and saucer she held in her lap and continued. ‘I expect that sounds like a horrible thing to say, but I’m not the only one who has concerns. Beth’s teacher asked me why Beth wasn’t allowed to go on any school outings. I had to explain that her father wouldn’t let her and that Beth wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without him, apart from school. Miss Willow thought he was far too possessive and I agreed. If it had been my decision, of course Beth would have been allowed to go on the outings, and to play with other children in the neighbourhood.’

‘When you said their relationship wasn’t healthy, what did you mean?’ I asked.

Marianne frowned. ‘It’s difficult to explain. But Beth and her father are far too close, and not like a father and daughter should be. In many ways, Beth is more like a wife to him. She even sleeps in his bed.’ Marianne looked at me. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘I know Beth sleeps in the same bed as her father,’ I said. ‘She told me on the first night she was here. She wanted to sleep in my bed, but I didn’t think it was appropriate, or fair on Adrian and Paula.’

‘Exactly!’ Marianne said forcefully, meeting my gaze. ‘So why is it that you and I think that, but Derek can’t see it? How did you make Beth sleep in her own bed? She always kicked off something awful when I tried to make her. She has a nice room at home, but she won’t use it.’

‘On the first night I gave her a cuddly toy, which I said would help her sleep, and since then she’s been sleeping with a photograph of her father under her pillow. It seems to work.’

Marianne gave a small half-hearted nod. ‘Derek was never firm enough with Beth. He’s petrified that she will leave him as her mother did. He worshipped Beth’s mother and when she ran off with an old boyfriend he was devastated. In some ways he never got over it. I think he sees Beth’s mother in Beth, and clings to her memory through her. I don’t know, it’s all so confusing.’ Marianne toyed with the rim of her cup, deep in thought. I waited, for clearly she needed to say more.

‘Beth would never let me sleep with her father,’ Marianne said after a moment, looking up at me. ‘If I stayed the night, I had to sleep in Beth’s bed. It was like I was the child and she was his wife. She threw a tantrum if I didn’t agree to this, or anything else connected with her father. She knows how to get what she wants. I know it sounds pathetic, but the two of them stopped letting me go in the kitchen to prepare meals. They started cooking together and they were all over each other, kissing and cuddling like a couple of lovebirds. If I tried to show Derek any affection, Beth would push me away or push herself between us, so he had to kiss and cuddle her. Derek thought it was funny and just laughed. I never knew if it was for my benefit – that they wanted to show me how close they were – or if they were always like that.’ Marianne shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I still help them. Derek needs my help, and as long as I don’t show him any affection Beth tolerates me.’ Marianne stopped and looked at me, her brow creased in anguish and confusion. ‘Sorry, I don’t know why I’m dumping this lot on you,’ she said.

‘I can understand why you’re so worried,’ I said. ‘None of this sounds right to me either. Have you discussed it with the social worker?’

‘No. I thought about it. But I couldn’t think of what to say. It made me sound pathetic, as though I was jealous – of a seven-year-old girl! Perhaps I am. I wouldn’t mind some of the affection Derek shows Beth. But he doesn’t need me emotionally. He has all he needs in Beth. Though I worry about her and what is really going on.’

I held her gaze as my stomach tightened. ‘You don’t think there could be anything more than kissing and cuddling, do you? I mean, you said their relationship isn’t healthy, but you don’t think there could be anything –’

‘Sexual?’ Marianne put in.

I nodded sombrely.

‘I honestly don’t know. And what’s sexual and what isn’t? Where do you draw the line? Some of their kissing and cuddling could be described as sexual. I don’t think for one moment Derek would hurt Beth, but where will it stop? Beth will be a teenager one day, and then a mature woman. Will they become lovers?’ Marianne fell silent.

Anxiety, and fear for Beth, gripped me. ‘The social worker needs to know,’ I said.

Marianne nodded.

‘Shall I tell her what you’ve told me?’

‘Yes, please. It’ll sound better coming from you. It’s a relief to share all this at last.’ Marianne glanced at her wristwatch. ‘I’m sorry, I must go. I’m late for work already. I don’t want to lose my job on top of everything else.’ She immediately stood and returned her cup and saucer to the tray. ‘Thank you for listening and thanks for the coffee.’

‘You’re welcome.’ I also stood.

Paula, who’d been playing on the floor with her toys, came to my side and slipped her hand into mine. The three of us walked in silence to the front door. Marianne paused before leaving and, turning to me, said anxiously: ‘We are doing the right thing in telling the social worker, aren’t we? Derek is very vulnerable and he isn’t coping well.’

‘Yes. Beth is a child who is also very vulnerable. She has to be protected. I’m sure the social worker will know what to do and will handle it sensitively.’

Marianne gave a resigned nod and, turning, went down the path and to her car. I closed the front door.

‘Was that lady Beth’s mummy?’ Paula asked.

‘No, love. She’s a friend of Beth’s daddy. She’s been helping to look after Beth.’ Paula had obviously heard Marianne and me discussing Beth, but at her age, thankfully, hadn’t understood the content or implications of what we’d said.

It was with a very heavy heart that I took Paula into the living room, settled her with her toys on the floor and explained that I had an important telephone call to make and that I would use the telephone in the hall.

‘OK, Mummy,’ Paula said. ‘I understand.’

I left the door to the living room ajar so that Paula could come out if she needed me. I returned down the hall and picked up the telephone on the hall table. I dialled the number of the social services and was put through to the children’s services department. I gave my name, explained I was Beth’s foster carer and asked to speak to Jessie. Jessie’s colleague said that Jessie was out of the office on a home visit and wasn’t expected back until much later that afternoon. I left my telephone number together with a message asking if Jessie would telephone me as soon as possible. The social worker then asked if it was an emergency and I said it wasn’t, although I did need to speak to Jessie as soon as possible.

I replaced the receiver, went into the living room and checked on Paula, who was still amusing herself, then I took the tray containing the cups and saucers into the kitchen where, preoccupied with thoughts of Beth, I rinsed them out. I took the clean laundry upstairs where I distributed it into the drawers in the children’s bedrooms. As I entered Beth’s room, my gaze went to the rows of framed photographs on the shelves. I went closer and stood in front of them for a few moments, viewing them individually and also collectively. It was then I realized what it was about the photographs that made me feel so uncomfortable: it was the manner in which Beth and her father were posing. They either had their arms wrapped around each other and were gazing into each other’s eyes or they had their heads together and were smiling at the camera. But in each of their poses they were more like a couple than father and daughter, or as Marianne had said – lovebirds. The more I looked at the photographs the more obvious it became. I thought of the photographs of Adrian and Paula with their father and I knew none of them were like this. Yet there was nothing overtly sexual in the pictures. Derek and Beth weren’t touching inappropriately; it was the overall impression that was suggestive. Something definitely wasn’t right.

My mouth went dry as I turned away from the photographs. I lay Beth’s clothes on her bed and then reached under the pillow and slid out the photograph she slept with. It was a picture of Beth and her father on the beach. They were in their swimwear, kneeling on the sand and facing each other with their lips pursed as though blowing a kiss. It was the largest of the photographs and I now realized the most intimate. I wondered who had taken it and whether they had seen anything odd in the pose of this father and daughter. I returned the photograph to beneath the pillow, put Beth’s clothes away and then came out of her room.

By the time I left for school Jessie hadn’t returned my telephone call, so I telephoned again at five o’clock. A colleague said that Jessie had been delayed and she wasn’t expected to return to the office that day. She said she’d leave a message for her to telephone me first thing in the morning.

When I told Beth that Marianne had brought her swimming costume, she pulled a face.

‘I thought it was nice of Marianne to go out of her way to help us,’ I said to Beth. ‘It saved me a trip into town.’

‘I’d rather have a new costume,’ Beth grumbled. ‘Daddy would have bought me a new one.’

‘Really?’ I said lightly, ignoring her ill humour. I continued with the preparations for dinner.

Beth was soon over her grumpiness and was excited by the prospect of telephoning her daddy at seven o’clock, and every evening. Over dinner she talked about little else. I watched her closely as we ate. With Marianne’s words still fresh in my mind, everything Beth said about her father and her mannerisms when she spoke of him took on a more sinister tone. Daddy kisses my feet and it makes me laugh, Beth declared, giggling. Daddy likes brushing my hair at bedtime until it shines. Daddy and me go to bed at the same time and he cuddles up to me. Even I’m Daddy’s little princess now had an uncomfortable ring to it. Yet Beth clearly loved her father as he did her. Their relationship, as Marianne had said, was confusing, and the concerns were difficult to identify and put into words.

As seven o’clock approached I steeled myself to make the telephone call to Derek, for I really didn’t want to talk to him. Beth had been reminding me for the last hour that it was nearly time to telephone her daddy. Adrian was in the living room reading, and seven o’clock was usually the time I started Paula’s bath and bedtime routine. That night, however, I bathed Paula early and then put her into bed with some toys and told her I’d read her a story after Beth had telephoned her father.

‘I understand, Mummy,’ she said sweetly.

‘Good girl.’

Beth was already in my bedroom, sprawled out on the bed and waiting for me to make the call. I sat on the edge of the bed, hoping against hope that Derek wouldn’t be able to come to the phone. I dialled the hospital and was put through to the ward. True to his word, Derek was ready and waiting and came to the telephone as soon as the nurse called him.

‘Hello, Cathy,’ he said brightly. ‘How are you?’ Ridiculously, I was surprised that his voice sounded normal.

‘Good evening, Derek,’ I said evenly. ‘I’ll put Beth on.’

‘Before you do, can I have a quick word please?’

‘Yes?’

‘I just wanted to know if Beth was all right. You know, eating and sleeping well. She sounds all right on the phone, but obviously it’s very worrying for me not to be with her.’

‘I appreciate that,’ I said. ‘Beth is fine.’ And I passed the telephone to her.

Impolite of me, yes, but my thoughts were in turmoil.

I sat on the edge of the bed as Beth talked to her father. They began by asking each other how they were and what they’d been doing. They said how much they were missing each other and blew kisses down the phone, which took on a new significance given what I now knew. Derek then began talking in a silly high-pitched voice to make Beth laugh, and they both giggled like children.

‘Oh Daddy, you’re teasing me again. Stop it.’ Beth laughed.

More silly voices followed and then Derek asked Beth what she was wearing and she lowered her voice and fluttered her eyelids as she told him she’d changed out of her school uniform and into her blue dress with the bow, to please him – in a manner almost as if she were flirting. Then she said: ‘Oh Daddy, I miss you and your warm cuddles so much.’

‘I miss you too, princess,’ Derek said. ‘I miss holding you in my arms so very much. I can’t wait until I’m home and can tuck you up in bed beside me again.’ Which, in the light of what I now suspected, made me shudder.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could listen to all of this; they’d been on the telephone for nearly half an hour. Then Paula, who’d been waiting patiently in her bed, called out: ‘Mummy, is it time for a story yet?’

‘Yes, love,’ I called back. ‘I’ll be with you soon.’

I waited while Derek finished telling Beth that he hoped he’d be home soon, and then I said to Beth: ‘You need to say goodbye now.’

She looked at me, surprised.

‘I’ll explain,’ I said, easing the telephone from her. ‘Sorry,’ I said to Derek. ‘Can you say goodbye now, please? I need to end the call as my daughter is calling for me.’

‘Can’t you leave Beth to talk to me while you see to your daughter?’ Derek asked.

Something told me I shouldn’t leave Beth alone with her father, not even on the telephone. ‘It’s difficult,’ I said to Derek. ‘Beth is in my bedroom and my daughter is in her room.’

‘Oh, OK,’ he said reasonably. ‘Can I say goodbye to Beth?’

‘Yes, of course.’

I passed the telephone to Beth, who was glaring at me.

‘Why is she telling you to go?’ she asked her father. ‘I can speak to you if I want.’

‘You’d better do as she says as you’re in her house,’ Derek said.

And just for a moment I caught a glimpse of the ‘them and us’ situation Marianne had described, only now it was the two of them against me.

‘And you’ll telephone tomorrow?’ Derek asked Beth.

‘Of course I will, Daddy. I love you.’

There now followed a series of ‘byes’, ‘miss yous’ and ‘love yous’, with kisses blown in between, which seemed never-ending, so eventually I said, ‘Bye, Derek,’ loud enough for him to hear. Taking the telephone from Beth, I returned it to its cradle.

‘You can’t do that!’ Beth said, rounding on me.

I looked at her, startled by her vehemence.

‘It’s nearly your bedtime,’ I said.

‘Not for much longer,’ she grumbled, showing a different side to her. ‘My daddy said he’ll be home soon, and then I can go to bed whenever I want.’

I find that most negative or provocative comments are best ignored, so I set my face to a cheerful smile and asked Beth if she would like a drink before she started getting ready for bed. She didn’t. She stomped round to her room and closed her bedroom door with a bang. I gave her time to cool down while I read Paula a story, and then, having said goodnight to Paula, I went to Beth’s room and knocked on the door. I went in and told her it was time to have a wash and clean her teeth. She was calm now and clearly a little uncertain of me, possibly because, unlike her daddy, I hadn’t done exactly as she had wanted. When Beth was ready for bed, I went into her room to say goodnight.

‘Can I telephone my daddy tomorrow, please?’ she asked politely.

‘I’m not sure yet, love,’ I said, honestly. ‘I’ll need to speak to your social worker first. Jessie said we were to telephone over the weekend, that was all, so I’ll have to check if it’s OK to phone every evening too.’ In truth I thought that Jessie would stop telephone contact in the light of what I was going to tell her.

Beth accepted this and then asked for a hug and kiss goodnight, which I gave her. With a smile, she turned onto her side and, slipping her hand under the pillow, retrieved the photograph of her and her father on the beach. She gave his image a big kiss through the glass and then tucked the photograph under the pillow again. ‘Night-night, Daddy,’ she sighed. ‘Night, Cathy.’

‘Night, love,’ I said. ‘Sleep tight.’

I came out and drew the door to, leaving the landing light on. I felt sorry for Beth, and I didn’t in any way hold her responsible for the relationship that appeared to have developed between her and her father. Derek was an adult and should have known better. He was responsible for overstepping the line from a healthy father-and-daughter relationship into something inappropriate and for his gratification, which I now believed it was. Beth was only a child – a child who had never known her mother’s love. She didn’t know it was wrong to reciprocate and return her father’s inappropriate affection. I wondered if Derek’s mental health had played a part, although I hadn’t been told what was wrong with him. Until I could speak to Jessie I felt I carried the burden of what I knew, just as Marianne had.

After saying goodnight to Adrian and checking Paula was asleep, I went downstairs where I sat on the sofa and wrote some notes about the points I wanted to make when I spoke to Jessie the following day. Now, foster carers are encouraged to keep a daily log in respect of the children they foster, where they record any significant events as well as appointments for the child, but then logs hadn’t been introduced, so as an aide-mémoire I made notes. When I’d finished, I let Toscha out for her evening run and then I had an early night. I was emotionally exhausted, but once in bed I found I couldn’t sleep. Marianne’s worries combined with my own concerns about the relationship between Beth and her father. I believed Marianne to be a genuine and honest person, and I thought she’d told me the truth. She’d never married or had children of her own, and it was clear to me she still thought a lot of Derek and Beth. I thought she would have made a good wife and stepmother, had she been given the chance. It said a lot of her that she continued to visit and support Derek and Beth despite the way she’d been treated by them.

After a restless night I woke feeling less refreshed than when I’d gone to bed, and I stumbled through the early-morning routine of showering, dressing and then waking the children ready for breakfast. We wrapped up warm that morning before leaving the house. The weather was freezing with a cruel northeasterly wind. We hurried to school and Paula and I were pleased when we were home again and in the warm. I made us a hot chocolate each and then I played with Paula, expecting Jessie to telephone at any moment. She still hadn’t phoned by the time Paula had her morning nap, so once Paula was settled I returned to the living room and, with my notes on my lap, telephoned the children’s services department. To my surprise, Jessie answered.

‘Jessie, it’s Cathy, Beth’s carer,’ I said. ‘I left a message yesterday for you to telephone me.’

‘Yes. Got it. It’s on my list of to-dos.’ She sounded rushed and stressed.

‘Is it possible to talk to you now?’ I asked. ‘It is important.’

‘Go on then, quickly. I’m due in a meeting soon.’

Quickly wasn’t what I had in mind. I needed time to describe my concerns, but I went ahead anyway. It was a big mistake.