Читать книгу Daddy’s Little Princess and Will You Love Me 2-in-1 Collection - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 15

‘I’m worried about Beth,’ I began. ‘Marianne visited me yesterday. She brought Beth’s swimming costume.’

‘Yes, I know. I gave her your telephone number.’

‘She told me some things about Beth and her father and the way they behave towards each other that are very worrying. I think you should know.’

‘Like what?’ Jessie asked. ‘Marianne hasn’t said anything to me.’

‘No. She was going to, but she wasn’t sure what to say. It seems that Derek behaves towards Beth in a manner that isn’t appropriate.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’ Jessie asked, or rather demanded. ‘Derek is in hospital.’

‘No, before he went in, I mean. Marianne said the way he kisses and cuddles Beth isn’t right. And Beth sleeps in his bed.’

‘Lots of parents kiss and cuddle their children and let them sleep in their beds,’ Jessie said. Which, of course, was true.

‘But he’s very possessive of her,’ I continued. ‘Beth’s not allowed to play with children her own age away from school, or go to their birthday parties, or go on school outings. Miss Willow told me.’

‘Yes, I know, and I’ve told Derek that Beth needs to start taking advantage of all aspects of the curriculum, including educational visits and after-school activities.’

I knew I wasn’t handling this well, but I continued. ‘Since Beth has been with me, I’ve noticed she talks constantly about her father. And she’s brought fifteen framed photographs with her. All of her and her father.’

‘That’s nice,’ Jessie said.

‘But there’s something not right about the photographs. Their poses are more like two adults than father and daughter.’

‘I saw most of the photographs as Beth packed them. They seemed all right to me. They’ve got their clothes on. What’s wrong with them?’

‘It’s the way they’re cuddling and smiling at each other. It makes me feel uncomfortable.’

There was silence on the other end of the telephone and I could guess what Jessie was thinking. I knew I wasn’t handling this correctly, but it was so difficult to put my concerns into words.

‘Some of the things Beth and her father say to each other don’t seem right,’ I said. ‘They are too lovey-dovey. And Marianne has to sleep in Beth’s bed when she stays the night and Beth sleeps with her father.’

‘Isn’t that because Marianne’s relationship with Derek has ended and is simply friendship again?’ Jessie said. ‘I guess she sleeps in Beth’s bed or on the couch.’ Which again was true.

I went to the next point in my notes. ‘When my husband was here at the weekend, at bedtime Beth wanted him to lie on her bed and cuddle her like her father did.’

‘And did he?’

‘I told him not to.’

‘So you dealt with the matter?’

‘Yes. But there are other things.’

‘Go on.’

‘Beth is more like a wife to Derek than a daughter. She has a lot of responsibility. You saw it yourself when you took her home for her things before you brought her here. She was worried about the washing and the food in the fridge spoiling. I’ve had to reassure her that I take care of that sort of thing here. Add my concerns to Marianne’s and Miss Willow’s and there’s definitely something not right,’ I finished lamely.

There was a pause before Jessie asked: ‘Are you suggesting that Derek is abusing his daughter?’

‘No. Well, possibly. I don’t know. But I think someone needs to look into it.’

There was another pause before Jessie said formally, ‘Mrs Glass, I really don’t think there is any cause for concern, but I’m planning on seeing Derek in hospital this evening if I can leave the office in time. I’ll raise your concerns with him then and see what he has to say.’

‘No, don’t do that,’ I blurted. ‘I mean, I don’t want you to say that I said these things.’

‘How else am I to approach the matter? The poor man has a right to know what he is being accused of and to have the chance to defend himself.’

At that point I really regretted saying anything. ‘But it’s not just my view,’ I said pathetically. ‘Marianne and Beth’s teacher have concerns too. And a parent in the playground came to me and said she thought Derek was over-possessive. Her daughter is a friend of Beth’s, but she’s not allowed to play with her or go to tea.’

‘I hope Derek isn’t becoming the subject of playground gossip,’ Jessie said. ‘Now, is there anything else? I’m running late.’

‘No. I’m sorry.’

‘I’ll be in touch when I have any news. Derek is hoping to come out of hospital soon. That’s one of the reasons I am going to see him – to talk about his discharge.’

Jessie said a quick goodbye and cut the call. I sat on the sofa, staring at the telephone, feeling a complete idiot, which is what I imagined Jessie probably thought of me too. Perhaps even a malicious idiot who was prone to idle gossip. I’d been so convinced that Derek’s relationship with Beth was inappropriate – so too had Marianne and Miss Willow – but now I wasn’t so sure. All the points I’d raised with Jessie had sounded feeble and unfounded, and she’d easily justified them all as normal behaviour. Could all three of us have been wrong? I thought it was possible. Then I realized I’d forgotten to ask Jessie if Beth should telephone her father in the evenings, although given Jessie’s reaction to what I’d said I assumed the answer would be yes, for there was no reason not to telephone Derek; according to Jessie he’d done nothing wrong.

Paula woke a few minutes later and I went upstairs feeling anxious and wretched. I put on a cheerful face as I brought her downstairs and then played with her and read her some stories. But my heart wasn’t in it. I was preoccupied and then I felt guilty for not giving her my full attention. I deeply regretted telephoning Jessie. I should have advised Marianne to telephone her, for I was now convinced she’d have made a better job of explaining her concerns. I wondered if Jessie would telephone Marianne and possibly Miss Willow to substantiate what I’d said, or possibly doubt my abilities as a foster carer. I felt a failure. I’d made a decision and it had been the wrong one.

Beth was out before Adrian at the end of school and the first thing she asked was: ‘Did you speak to my social worker? Can I telephone my daddy?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Goody!’ she cried, and jumped for joy. ‘I love my daddy!’

Adrian came out and I listened to his news on the way home, but my thoughts kept returning to the telephone contact I would have to initiate later. Jessie would have visited Derek by then and told him what I’d said. My stomach knotted and I had little appetite at dinner. Apart from it being very embarrassing to speak to Derek after what Jessie would have told him, I knew he had every right to be angry. I briefly considered writing down the number of the hospital and the ward and letting Beth make the call, but I wasn’t that much of a coward. I tried consoling myself with the reminder that I’d done what I thought was right at the time and had only wanted to protect Beth. If Derek raised the matter, which I was sure he would, all I could do was apologize.

After dinner I gave Paula an early bath and settled her in bed with some toys, as I had done the evening before.

‘Is Beth phoning her daddy again?’ Paula asked.

‘Yes, love. I think she’ll be phoning him every evening while she’s with us.’

‘Can I telephone my daddy?’ Paula asked.

‘He’s at work, love. He’ll telephone if he can.’ I felt for her and hoped John would phone.

Leaving Paula in bed with some toys, I went into my bedroom where Beth was sprawled on the bed, waiting for me, and looking forward to speaking to her daddy. She’d said a few times during the evening that she was hoping her daddy would tell her which day he would be coming home, so she was very excited. My stomach was churning. I sat on the edge of the bed and dialled the hospital and then asked for Ward 3. When I was put through to the ward I asked for Derek, expecting that, as before, he’d be ready and would come to the telephone straight away. But instead of calling Derek to the phone, the nurse who’d answered said to me, ‘Hold the line, please.’ I heard the telephone being set down and then there was a short silence before the nurse came back on the line and said: ‘Derek is asleep.’

I was surprised. ‘Are you sure?’ I asked. ‘It’s seven o’clock and he’s expecting his daughter to phone.’

‘Just a minute,’ the nurse said, and the telephone was set down again. I heard muffled voices in the background and then the telephone was picked up and the same nurse asked: ‘Are you a relative?’

‘No. I’m his daughter’s foster carer.’

‘Derek is asleep and shouldn’t be woken,’ she said. ‘You’ll need to speak to the social worker tomorrow.’

I hesitated, confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’m sorry. As you are not a relative, I can’t tell you any more. You’ll have to speak to his social worker tomorrow.’

Aware something was wrong, Beth was no longer sprawling leisurely on the bed, but had sat upright and was looking at me, concerned.

‘And he can’t come to the telephone to talk to his daughter? Not just for a short while?’ I asked.

‘No. I’m sorry. He’s asleep.’

There was nothing more I could say, so, thanking the nurse, I put down the telephone and turned to Beth. Her face was already crumpling. ‘Why can’t I speak to my daddy?’ she asked, her voice trembling.

‘Because he’s asleep, love, and the nurse didn’t want to wake him.’

‘But he wanted to speak to me. He told me to phone. They should have woken him.’

‘I’m sorry, love. I can’t do any more. I only know what the nurse told me.’

‘Can’t we phone and try again?’ Beth asked, her eyes filling. ‘That nurse might be wrong. Can you speak to another nurse?’

‘The nurse said your daddy was definitely asleep, pet,’ I said, taking her hand in mine. ‘Perhaps he’s had a busy day.’ But Beth didn’t believe this any more than I did. ‘I’ll telephone Jessie tomorrow,’ I said.

Beth burst into tears and I put my arms around her and comforted her. I felt sorry for her. She was so disappointed at not being able to speak to her father. I also felt guilty, for I was sure that in some way I was responsible for Derek ‘being asleep’ and not being able to come to the phone. It seemed too much of a coincidence that Derek hadn’t been able to come to the phone after Jessie’s visit.

I soothed Beth, and when she was feeling a bit better I gently dried her eyes. ‘There, that’s better,’ I said. ‘Now, why don’t you go downstairs and play a game with Adrian, while I read Paula a story? I won’t be long.’

‘Can I come with you?’ Beth sniffed.

‘Yes, of course, if you want to.’

Beth nodded mournfully and I took her hand and we went round to Paula’s room.

‘Beth would like to listen to your story too, if that’s all right?’ I said to Paula.

‘Yes. You can listen,’ Paula said, patting the bed beside her. ‘Have you spoken to your daddy?’ she asked as Beth climbed onto the bed.

I saw Beth’s bottom lip tremble. ‘Not tonight,’ I said. ‘Her daddy was asleep.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Paula said. ‘I don’t speak to my daddy much on the phone.’ I could have wept. Perhaps I was feeling overly sensitive, but Paula’s comment touched me deeply, and I dearly hoped John would remember his promise to telephone during the week.

There wasn’t much room on Paula’s single bed for the three of us, but we managed. Propped up against the headboard, I balanced precariously on the edge of the bed as I read Paula’s favourite stories. Although the books were a little young for Beth, she seemed to enjoy them as much as Paula did. Also, I think she enjoyed the closeness and intimacy of the bedtime story. It’s a lovely way for children to unwind at the end of the day.

‘I’m going to ask my daddy to read me stories in bed when I go home,’ Beth said.

‘Can’t your mummy read you stories?’ Paula asked innocently.

‘She doesn’t live with us,’ Beth said.

‘My daddy doesn’t live with us much either,’ Paula agreed.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I read the next story and continued reading for half an hour.

Later, when Beth was in her bed and I went to say goodnight, she was clearly still thinking of her father. ‘Why didn’t Daddy want to speak to me?’ she asked.

My heart clenched, and I felt even guiltier. ‘It wasn’t that Daddy didn’t want to speak to you,’ I said. ‘He was asleep.’

‘But it was only seven o’clock,’ Beth said. ‘And he knew I was going to phone. He told me to phone every evening.’

‘I know. But sometimes in hospital plans change at the last minute. It can’t be helped. I’ll telephone your social worker tomorrow and see what she says.’

Beth finally accepted this and I tucked her in and kissed her goodnight. She turned onto her side and, sliding the photograph of her father from under the pillow, kissed his image through the glass. ‘Night, Daddy,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll telephone tomorrow. Please be awake.’

She returned the photograph to under the pillow. I said goodnight again and came out.

I had another restless night thinking about Derek, what Jessie had said and the conversation I would have with Jessie the following day. Eventually I fell asleep in the early hours and it seemed I’d no sooner fallen asleep than the alarm was ringing. I tumbled out of bed and into the school-day routine: waking the children, helping Paula wash and dress and then making breakfast. It was another cold January day, with grey skies that stretched as far as the eye could see. We wrapped up warm in our coats, scarves and gloves and hurried to school. On the way home I stopped off at the local grocery store for milk and bread. Also shopping was a friend of mine, Kay, with her daughter Vicky; her children were a similar age to mine. We began chatting and presently Kay said, ‘Cathy, rather than stand here talking, why don’t you come back to my house for coffee, and the girls can play?’ We did this from time to time – meeting at Kay’s house or mine and sometimes with other friends and their children too.

‘I’d love to,’ I said. ‘But I have to speak to Beth’s social worker first thing about something urgent.’ Kay knew I fostered, as did my other close friends.

‘So why not come over later when you’ve spoken to the social worker? Say about eleven o’clock? How does that sound?’ Although Paula often had a short nap at eleven o’clock, she was coming to the end of the time when she needed a daytime sleep.

‘Thanks. That would be great,’ I said. ‘We’ll see you later.’

‘See you later,’ the girls chimed, grinning at each other.

I bought the groceries I needed and went home. I wondered if Jessie would telephone me; the last time we’d spoken she’d said she would call if she had any news. I waited until just after ten o’clock and then I decided to telephone her. Settling Paula with some toys in the living room, I told her I was going to use the telephone in the hall so that I didn’t disturb her, and that once I’d finished we’d get ready and go to Kay’s, which pleased her.

I dialled the children’s services and asked for Jessie’s extension. She answered.

‘It’s Cathy, Beth’s carer,’ I said.

‘I was going to telephone you later. How is Beth?’

‘All right now, but she was upset last night when we phoned her father. He couldn’t speak to her.’

‘I know,’ Jessie said.

‘The nurse said he was asleep.’

‘He was sedated,’ Jessie said bluntly. ‘They were putting him to bed as I left.’

‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘Can I ask you why he was sedated?’

‘He was upset,’ Jessie said, equally bluntly. ‘When I told him of your concerns, he became very agitated and started shouting and crying. The doctor was called and said he would give him something to calm him down and help him sleep.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. As I’d feared, I was responsible.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Jessie said, which surprised me. ‘Derek was in a fragile state to begin with. I told him I thought the allegations were unfounded and I had no reason to doubt his ability to parent Beth, but he still took it very badly. He feels there is a lot of prejudice against a man bringing up a daughter alone, and I think he could be right. He’s overheard mothers discussing him in the playground. One even suggested that the reason his wife had disappeared was because he’d “done her in”. Miss Willow had also spoken to him, so I’m afraid your comments were the final straw. I reassured him that as far as I’m concerned the matter is finished, but it didn’t help. Hopefully he’s recovered now.’

‘I do hope so,’ I said. I hesitated, then I dared to ask: ‘Did you tell him what Marianne said?’ From what Jessie had said, it seemed that she hadn’t mentioned Marianne’s worries to Derek, just mine.

‘Yes. Derek admitted there was a problem between Marianne and Beth. He said they seemed to be jealous of each other and vied for his attention. It was going from bad to worse, which was why he ended his relationship with Marianne. He explained this to Marianne, but it appears she doesn’t want to believe it.’

Put like that it all seemed so rational and reasonable. I felt an absolute fool – a vindictive fool who had caused a lot of trouble and set back Derek’s recovery.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Will Derek be well enough for Beth to speak to him this evening?’

‘Yes. I should think so. I’m going to telephone the hospital later and see how he is today. If you don’t hear from me, assume he’s all right and telephone as normal. But Cathy, I would appreciate it if you just made the call and then passed the telephone to Beth. I don’t want you engaging in conversation with Derek. Understood?’

‘Yes.’

‘Also, I want Beth to see her father later in the week. The doctor agrees it will help his recovery. I was thinking of Friday after school. I was going to ask you to take Beth, but given the animosity between you and Derek I think it’s better if I take her.’

‘All right,’ I agreed, feeling completely ineffectual.

‘If I don’t speak to you before, I’ll collect Beth at about four o’clock on Friday, and return her after the visit.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Shall I tell Beth she’ll be seeing her father on Friday?’

‘Yes. It will help cheer her up. Should help cheer up Derek too. Poor man, he was so upset. Inconsolable.’

Which compounded my feelings of guilt and wretchedness.