Название | Please Don’t Take My Baby and I Miss Mummy 2-in-1 Collection |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Cathy Glass |
Жанр | Биографии и Мемуары |
Серия | |
Издательство | Биографии и Мемуары |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9780007527458 |
‘Thank you, Cathy,’ Rachel replied.
‘Don’t care,’ Jade said.
‘I’ll be in the kitchen if I’m needed,’ I said. I left the sitting room and closed the door behind me.
What Jade and her social worker talked about was in confidence and I would be told what I needed to know. Foster carers have to get used to facilitating meetings in their homes (between the child and their social worker) from which they are excluded and in which they may be discussed. Foster carers also have to get used to having their privacy invaded by spot checks on their homes as well as at their annual review when the whole house is inspected by their support social worker, including their own and their children’s bedrooms. Some foster carers cannot get used to what they see as an unnecessary and intrusive invasion of their privacy and don’t continue fostering. I feel that while some checks are necessary, for the well-being of the child, others have gone too far. For example, the contents of the carer’s fridge and freezer are now examined to make sure there’s enough food to feed the child. Surely if you trust a carer to look after a child you can trust them to feed them properly?
Rachel and Jade were together for about twenty minutes before I heard the sitting-room door open and Jade go upstairs. I left what I was doing in the kitchen and went round. ‘Everything all right?’ I asked, going into the sitting room.
Rachel looked up from writing in her notebook. ‘Yes. Jade’s gone upstairs to have a lie-down. She says she’s still not feeling well. I expect she’s still got a hangover but keep an eye on her.’
‘I will,’ I said.
I sat down and waited as Rachel wrote. ‘Jade is eating and sleeping well?’ she asked.
‘Yes. She sleeps very well. She eats well but she likes fried foods and sweet things. I’m trying to get her to eat more fresh fruit and vegetables.’
‘Good,’ Rachel said, making another note. Then she put her pad and pen in her bag and looked at me. ‘I’ve had a very serious chat with Jade and I’ve told her she’s got to stop drinking. She’s promised to try. I’ve also explained that the only mother-and-baby placement free at present is outside the county and she doesn’t want to move there – away from all her friends. I’ve told her I’m hoping a suitable placement will be free in the next few weeks, but if not then she’ll have to move out of the county until one becomes free. She’s not happy but it might be best in the long run: it would give her a fresh start, away from her mates.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘It might be just what she needs. All her problems seem to stem from that group of friends.’
Rachel nodded and then stood, ready to leave. ‘Well, thanks for all you’re doing, Cathy. I know Jade’s not the easiest child in the world but she’s not the worst either.’
‘No indeed,’ I said. ‘I like her but I am concerned about her unsafe behaviour – both for her and for her baby.’
‘I’ve told her she’s got to stay in more and she’s agreed.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘That’s a relief. I’ve hardly seen her as she’s been out so much.’
I went with Rachel to the front door, where she asked me to say goodbye to Jade for her and left.
A couple of minutes after Rachel had gone I heard Jade come downstairs. I was in the kitchen preparing us some lunch, but Jade didn’t come in.
‘I’m just going to the postbox,’ Jade called from the hall. ‘I’ve got a letter to post.’
‘All right, love,’ I said. ‘You’ll need your coat on, even though the postbox is just up the road. It’s freezing out there.’
I heard the front door open and close and I continued making our lunch. A more savvy, experienced teen carer would probably have known that teenagers very rarely write letters; they text. But being naïve, and mindful of the thank-you letters Adrian and Paula sometimes wrote, I never thought to check if Jade was carrying a letter, which of course she wasn’t.
The postbox was about a two-minute walk up our street and it normally takes the same amount of time to walk back again. Four minutes in total. So when fifteen minutes had passed and our lunch was ready, and there was no sign of Jade, realization slowly dawned. I went into the hall, put on my coat and, dropping my front-door keys in my pocket, went out. I walked far enough up the street to see the postbox. There was no sign of Jade. I turned and went home again, hurt by her dishonesty and now regretting that I’d ever agreed to look after her, for it seemed there was nothing I could do to help her.
I phoned Jade’s mobile; she didn’t answer. I hadn’t really expected her to. I left a message on her voicemail: ‘Jade, it’s Cathy. I need to know where you are. Please phone me.’
Jade didn’t return my call, so I phoned again at six o’clock and left another message: ‘Jade, it’s Cathy. I want you home by nine o’clock at the latest. Do you understand?’
I hid my concern from Adrian and Paula and continued with the evening as best I could. I told them only that Jade was out with her friends and would be home later – probably after they were in bed. They accepted this, although Paula said she would have liked Jade to be at home more often so that she could play with her; Adrian said she was probably with Ty. I hoped she was but I doubted it.
Then shortly before seven o’clock the doorbell rang and, leaving Adrian and Paula in the sitting room, I went down the hall and checked the security spyhole before answering the door. To my surprise I saw Jade standing in the porch.
‘Hello, love,’ I said, opening the door. ‘Good to see you. Did you forget your key?’
‘I’m ill,’ she said, coming in and leaning against the wall for support.
My delight at her early return quickly disappeared. I assumed she’d been drinking again, as she heaved herself off the wall and without taking off her coat lumbered to the foot of the staircase. I went over, ready to help her up the stairs and into bed. I was anxious and annoyed that she was in this state again and this time Adrian and Paula would see her. However, instead of climbing the stairs Jade sat on the bottom step, bent forward, and with her arms looped around her knees, groaned loudly.
‘I’m ill,’ she said again.
‘How much have you had to drink, Jade?’ I asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Only water.’
I wasn’t convinced, although I gave her the benefit of the doubt.
‘Perhaps it’s indigestion,’ I suggested, patting her shoulder reassuringly. ‘What have you had to eat?’
‘Just chips for lunch,’ she said, still bent forward.
‘Where exactly is the pain?’
‘Here,’ she groaned, pointing to her bump.
‘It could be Braxton Hicks contractions,’ I said. ‘Do you remember I talked to you about those?’
‘Na,’ Jade said and groaned again.
‘They are little contractions that go on throughout pregnancy. They’re nothing to worry about and you can usually feel them if you put your hand on your stomach.’
‘Yeah, I can feel them,’ she said, clutching her stomach. ‘Here, you feel.’
I gently placed the palm of my hand on the outside of her jumper. At first all I could feel was the warmth of her body coming through her taut jumper, but after a moment I felt her stomach wall tighten