Taken

‘We’re at full capacity our end,’ Peggy said firmly. ‘We’d appreciate it, Rosie.’

‘Of course,’ I said, trying not to grimace.

Christina’s mobile wobbled and pinged. She swiped at it and then stared down at the screen, her expression going blank. Peggy cleared her throat noisily and pushed a sheet of A4 paper across the table. Christina snatched at it, the scrunching noise as she screwed it up in her palm clearing the glaze from her eyes. She stared at it for a full two minutes and then looked up at Peggy, her expression agog. ‘Ten?!’ she cried, waving the paper around, although she seemed to be responding to Peggy’s earlier comment about the start time of the LAC review. ‘I was told eleven, not ten. Who can get anywhere by ten o’clock? What am I, a fucking owl?’

‘The rest of us managed to get here punctually,’ Peggy said wearily, as if she’d said the same thing time after time. ‘And I haven’t the faintest idea where you got 11 o’clock from. I sent a letter with the time clearly stated to the manager at your refuge three days ago, along with a voucher to claim back any transport costs. A copy was sent to your solicitor and I also sent you a text-message confirmation, an email and I called your mobile this morning and left a voice message.’ Peggy clasped her hands together and rested them on the thick file in front of her. She leaned forward, staring hard at the young woman. ‘What else would you have me do, Christina? Arrange for a butler to wake you? Tea, croissants and the morning paper perhaps?’

I sank back, cringing inwardly, though I couldn’t help feeling a flash of admiration for Peggy at the same time. It was refreshing to hear her challenging Christina’s attempts to shirk responsibility, though I feared the young woman might explode in response. She did colour slightly, but then all she did was give a slow roll of her eyes. ‘Yeah, well, people like you don’t have to get buses everywhere, do you? You don’t have a clue what it’s like in the real world. The buses don’t run that regular where I am.’

‘Twaddle,’ Peggy scoffed. Christina stared at her, wide-eyed and adamant, but she didn’t say anything in defence. ‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you were only released from police custody this morning, I suppose?’

Christina sniffed briskly, her eyes flicking over to me and then quickly away again. ‘Yeah, well, might have been that an’ all.’ She rolled her shoulders, quickly recovering her dignity. ‘I wanted something to wear to the meeting today, didn’t I? I need to make a good impression so you give me my baby back. What was I supposed to do? Turn up naked?’ She looked back at me, garnering support. I tried to keep my expression non-committal.

Peggy adjusted her glasses and consulted the thick wad of papers in front of her. ‘Let’s see. Ah yes, here we are. I’m told you stole five pairs of trainers and 19 liquid eyeliners.’ She turned back to Christina and fixed her gaze keenly. ‘Who exactly were you trying to impress?’

Christina’s mouth opened and quickly closed. She examined her nails, which were short and jagged, and then turned back to me. ‘Fucking police state, that’s what this country is. I might as well pack up and go and live in Russia. Even they don’t dish out this sort of crap. In fact I’d go today if it weren’t so fucking cold over there. More cameras than rats where I live, there are.’

‘Hmmm, evidently,’ Peggy snorted. ‘A dearth of buses but no shortage of cameras.’

Christina’s jaw fell slack. ‘What you on about now?’ She looked across at me again. ‘I only get about half of what comes out of ’er mouth.’

Peggy scratched her short grey hair with sudden vigour. ‘All I was trying ’a do was make myself presentable,’ Christina continued. ‘Make a bit of an effort, you get me? What’s wrong with –’

‘What you need to do is get yourself clean,’ Peggy cut in matter-of-factly, whipping her glasses off and waving them in the air to punctuate her point. ‘There’s no benefit in prancing around in fancy trainers when you’re rotting away from the inside out, is there?’ Her tone was flat with no room for negotiation and, aside from muttering something crude under her breath, Christina didn’t bother trying.

My head was spinning. Christina was antagonistic and outrageous and she seemed to have a completely distorted idea of how the world worked but, in spite of a lingering resentment towards her for the harm she had caused Megan, I actually found myself liking her. I wasn’t sure if it was her Geordie accent, which seemed to make the most fearsome people sound friendly, or her complete lack of any artifice, but there was something about her that was genuinely disarming. I shook my head and blinked a couple of times, tuning back into the conversation. ‘– and we want to secure Megan’s future while she’s young enough not to know too much about it,’ Peggy was saying. ‘We know from studies that the sooner babies are settled, the easier –’

‘But I love her,’ Christina burst out, her lips puckering. Her legs were jiggling up and down so violently that one of her kneecaps hit the table. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ she growled, wincing. ‘That’s what you lot don’t understand. I love her to bits.’ The muscles beneath one of her eyes began to twitch. I could tell she was close to tears. ‘God, don’t you get it? I just wanna hold her without ten thousand people standing around, judging me. It really fucking hurts, all this shit.’

Peggy’s expression softened. She sighed, rubbed the inner corners of her eyes with thumb and forefinger then put her glasses back on. ‘I don’t doubt it, Christina. But love alone can’t keep her safe. Megan needs warmth and security and someone calm to take care of her. Someone who’s able to put her needs first. You live a rackety life, love, not right for a baby, especially one with additional needs. You know that, deep down, don’t you?’

Christina started to cry. It wasn’t a howling display designed to garner sympathy but rather a quiet, reluctant release of emotion. Tears trickled down her cheeks and I bowed my head, a lump rising in my throat. Peggy handed her a tissue and she blew her nose loudly. I glanced out of the small window at the end of the room and stared out over the local authority car park, the sound of Christina’s quiet sobs moving me more than I would ever have expected or wanted them to. She had harmed a helpless baby and I had strong feelings about that, but viewed dispassionately, there was no malicious intent – it had happened as a by-product of hurting herself. It was such a sorry state of affairs that I couldn’t help but feel sad for everyone involved.

‘Come on now, don’t upset yourself. Let’s talk about these referrals you keep ignoring, shall we?’ Peggy said, kindness creeping into her tone. ‘You’re a young girl. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you and you’re surrounded by people who want to help, love. Let’s get you booked in again and –’

‘Oh God,’ Christina screeched bitterly. She stood and grabbed her carrier bag. One of the plastic handles caught on the back of the chair and she gave a cry of frustration. There was a waft of tobacco as she hauled it free and threw herself at the door. ‘I can’t hack no more of this shit!’ she shouted, in the corridor before Peggy even had a chance to protest. The door banged behind her. I stared at Peggy in surprise.

‘Bloody hell,’ the social worker said, gathering her papers into a pile and banging one end into a block on the table. ‘I could shake her, honestly I could.’

‘She won’t go for help?’

She sighed loudly, air wheezing in her throat. ‘Oh, she goes all right, picks up her methadone and then tops it up with God knows what else when she gets out. She’s a character, I’ll grant you that. I actually quite like the girl; that’s why it’s so damn frustrating.’ She raised her eyebrows, heaved another sigh and then set her papers down gently, patting the top. ‘Anyway, on the bright side, Megan’s doing a little better you say?’

I nodded. ‘She seems to be a bit more comfortable. The Gaviscon’s helping, I think, although she still throws up after every feed.’ I gave her a rueful smile. ‘She has a knack of catching me right here,’ I said, patting my chest, ‘no matter which position I hold her in.’ Peggy huffed a soft laugh. ‘She’s sleeping a little easier as well. She really is a gorgeous baby.’

The social worker levelled her gaze. ‘Hmmm, yes, she is. And I’m supposed to constantly undermine your relationship with her so that you don’t get too attached. It’s what we’re told to do for our foster carers when they’re looking after babies.’ She bit her lip thoughtfully. ‘Only, if Megan were my own child I’d want you to love her utterly and completely, no holds barred, because the way we’re loved as babies defines how much love we’ll have in our hearts when we’re adults.’

I smiled at her. ‘I’ll keep her close, don’t worry about that.’

‘Yes,’ she said, looking directly at me. ‘I thought as much. But you’ll suffer the consequences when she leaves, that’s all I will say. And believe me, it’s going to hurt you a lot more than it’ll hurt anyone else.’

I gave a soft shrug. ‘That’s as it should be.’ I knew that if Emily or Jamie had been taken into care, I would have wanted whoever was looking after them to be smitten, however painful the eventual parting.

Peggy gave me a satisfied nod. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Right, so, contact stands at four times a week for now, as you’d have seen on the schedule I emailed. When we next go to court I’ll try and get it reduced. Let me know how it goes this afternoon. If it’s too difficult at home we’ll try to work something out, but Christina’s mild enough. Her bark’s worse than her bite.’

‘So today’s contact is going ahead then?’

Peggy’s jaw dropped again so that she gained a severe look. She peered at me over the top of her glasses. ‘As far as I know,’ she said abruptly. ‘Why would you think otherwise?’

‘I thought maybe, with Christina’s cold and everything, she didn’t look well enough to be around a baby and if she’s infectious –’

‘That’s no cold, Rosie,’ Peggy scoffed. ‘She’s been at the snuff, that’s all that is. And she’s got a touch of sinner’s eye, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Sinner’s eye?’

Peggy nodded grimly. ‘It’s one of the places hardened addicts use to inject – the soft tissue around the eye. Either Christina’s worked her way through all the veins she can find and it’s the only place left, or she’s going for the big guns now she’s no longer pregnant.’

I blanched; my stomach contracting.

‘High impact,’ Peggy explained as she pushed her chair back and rose. She winced, her lips clenched together as if in pain. ‘Hits the brain faster,’ she added a little breathlessly, a few beads of sweat appearing on her brow. ‘Gives them the head rush they’re looking for.’

I grimaced again and Peggy shook her head, her expression relaxing. ‘My goodness, Rosie, you’ve led a sheltered life,’ she said, eyes twinkling with amusement. ‘You should do my job for a few months. That’d cure you.’ She turned stiffly and held the door open for me. ‘By the way, I’ve got to go into hospital tomorrow so you’ll need to contact the fostering team manager if there are any problems while I’m away. I’ll be back in the office next week, all being well.’

‘Oh, nothing serious, I hope?’

‘Something and nothing,’ she said briskly, flapping her plump, reddened fingers through the air. She barked a laugh as she followed into the corridor. ‘Mind you, if you call the office next week and they tell you I’m dead, you’ll know I underestimated the situation.’

I laughed, and then we both went our separate ways.

Chapter Ten

I collected Megan from my mother’s house straight after the meeting, but Zadie asked if she could stay for a while longer and help to sort some coloured squares into a pattern for making a patchwork quilt. Mum readily agreed, especially when I told her about Christina coming over for contact. ‘Best you stay here,’ Mum said, giving Zadie a wink.

I was surprised to see Des waiting on the doorstep when I got home. ‘Ach, I’m sorry, Rosie,’ he said, as I climbed out of the car. I wondered whether he had been talking to his brothers back in Scotland – his accent was particularly pronounced today. ‘I was too late to make the meeting. I thought I’d try and catch you’s here.’ His hair was wilder than ever, presumably because he’d been rushing, the long curls criss-crossing over themselves across the top of his head, his slightly crumpled trousers and shirt-tails visible beneath the leather jacket he wore lending him a dishevelled glamour that could only ever happen by accident.

In contrast to his appearance, Des gave off an air of indefinable knowing. Nothing ever seemed to faze him or rob him of his calm. No matter what was going on around him, you always got the feeling that he’d been expecting it all along.

‘That’s OK.’ I pulled my handbag up onto my shoulder, closed the driver’s door and walked around to the other side of the car, for Megan. Des got there first, chivalrously lifting her seat out for me and holding it easily in one hand. Since finding out that he was leaving, something had changed between us. I wasn’t sure what, but I stood awkwardly for a moment, my keys dangling in my hand. Des seemed perfectly comfortable, though, as usual. With his long legs planted wide, he gave a small jerk of his head. ‘Coffee, then? Before I head back to the office?’

I nodded, turning towards the house, but he caught hold of my arm with his free hand. ‘I thought we’s could take a walk, grab something on the way.’

Megan wailed as I secured her into her baby harness, but the noise softened to a whimper as she curled herself up against my chest. With one cheek pressed against my top, she blinked in the sunlight and gave a contented sigh. The air was perfumed with the sweet summery scent of newly cut grass, but in the light breeze I could still smell Megan; her soapy cleanness, and the faint spice of freshly washed linen.

As we walked along, the movement soothed her and she nuzzled further down into her cocoon. I curled my arms around the bulk of her, even though the support wasn’t needed, and listened distractedly as Des told me about the foster-carer recruitment drive being initiated by Bright Heights. I think he mentioned something about the agency looking for volunteers to stir up some local interest. Normally I would have been happy to help out, but I was too absorbed by Megan’s movements against my chest to take much notice. I found myself concentrating on her tiny, bird-like breaths, making sure that she was getting enough air.

‘C’mon,’ Des said, when we passed a café. He guided me up the shallow steps with one hand, and then held the door open for us. At the table I loosened the straps of the carrier, but Des insisted on taking Megan so that I could have a rest and drink some tea.

He lifted her out and sat across the table from me, shushing and rocking her when she mewed. I rolled my shoulders, lifted the carrier over my head and let out a long breath. I felt two stone lighter whenever I put Megan down.

Des was a lively character who always seemed to take up so much space, so it was funny to see him metamorphosing in front of my eyes; his big hands arranging Megan’s blanket with such gentle attentiveness, his usual booming voice softly controlled. It was at times like that I thought it was a shame he’d never had children of his own. It was easy to imagine him surrounded by adoring, slightly rowdy kids, gales of laughter rippling around their comfortable home.

I smiled involuntarily. It didn’t escape his notice. ‘Something funny?’ he said, lifting his brow. I shook my head, but I couldn’t rid myself of the smirk. He didn’t comment, but I detected the faint flicker of a smile on his lips, creases of amusement around his eyes.

I started to tell him about the LAC review, but stopped abruptly when the waitress arrived to take our order. Des glanced up at her and made some comment I can’t quite remember, but it made her laugh. From that standing start, they very quickly progressed to discussing a joint love of rock music and geometric art. I sat watching them in silent admiration. Des always seemed to fall into easy conversation with people, no matter where he went. It was a gift that never ceased to amaze me.

When the drinks arrived I offered to take Megan back while Des drank his, but she had fallen asleep in his arms and he didn’t want to disturb her. I told him more about the meeting and he nodded here and there, but for most of the time he kept his gaze down, fixed on the baby’s face. He looked up sharply when I told him about Christina coming over for contact though. ‘Why did you’s agree to that?’ he said, looking annoyed. ‘You’re under no obligation to host. Ach, it’s my fault, I should have been there. I’ll call Peggy this afternoon; tell her it’s not happening.’

I put my cup down, shook my head. ‘No, don’t do that. I’ve agreed to it now. Let’s just see how it goes.’ Supervising contact was rarely an appealing prospect for foster carers, but there were advantages to holding the sessions at home. Bungled arrangements, overstretched contact supervisors and transport issues meant that sessions held at family centres were often delayed or cancelled.

Hosting the contact at home, as well as providing a relaxed, comfortable environment for what was sometimes a difficult, stressful experience for children, gave foster carers an opportunity to observe and record any changes in their behaviour while their parents were around. In my experience, children found it reassuring to know that the people responsible for caring for them were able to interact positively.

Megan was too young to worry about the politics of it all of course, but staying at home meant that her feeding routine and nap times weren’t interrupted, and she wouldn’t need ferrying around in unfamiliar cars by a stream of different contact supervisors either.

‘Aye, OK, but you call me if you feel you’re in over your head, right?’ He kept his gaze fixed on me until I nodded, then he looked away, but his heavy brows were still knitted together, his lips set in a stern line. Something about his irritation pleased me, I think because I felt that there was someone looking out for me. I was grateful for his concern.

We left the café in silence, Megan back in place on my chest. We walked on together for maybe 200 yards or so, but then Des stopped. I went on for a pace two before I realised he wasn’t beside me. When I turned he said, ‘Rosie?’

It seemed as if he were about to ask me something, but our attention was snatched by a whirling buzz as a helicopter passed overhead. We both looked up, watching as its bulk faded to a distant dot and then out of sight. I looked back at him questioningly, but the moment had passed. He took a few brisk strides towards me and went on ahead. I fell into step beside him.

Chapter Eleven

Later that afternoon I awaited Christina’s arrival with trepidation. The session had been scheduled for 2 p.m., but the hour came and went with no sign of her. At first I wondered whether she might have had trouble finding our house, but by half past two I decided she probably wasn’t coming and got ready to go to the shops. Just as I was about to strap a sleeping Megan into the pram though, I heard a commotion beyond the front door.

I stood in the hall for a moment with Megan in my arms, my head tilted as I tried to work out what was going on outside. The silhouettes of two people were visible through the frosted glass of the door, and from the way they merged, parted, then crossed over again, there seemed to be some sort of scuffle going on between them. Instinctively, I held Megan closer and ducked out of sight, but then I heard loud outbursts of laughter. A few seconds later, the doorbell rang.

‘Oh, hello,’ I said, my eyes drifting from Christina to the man standing behind her. At least a decade older than her, he was skinny, with a drawn, pale face and bedraggled, shoulder-length hair. ‘I’d almost given up on you.’ I didn’t bother trying to disguise the thread of irritation in my tone.

Christina, who was holding an ice cream, gave me a blank look. Her companion stared at me, equally vacant. After giving her a brief shove in the back, propelling her towards the house, he took a puff of his cigarette, blew a smoke ring in the air and then dropped the stub on the path. I stared at him with incredulity, but neither he nor Christina batted an eyelid, although she jabbed him hard in his chest and threw out one leg, grinding the stub under her shoe.

‘You’ll have to wait for Christina outside, I’m afraid,’ I said, as they readied themselves to come in. I tried to sound as if I wasn’t going to brook any argument, although my pulse was beginning to race. Megan stirred in my arms.

‘This is Lee,’ Christina said, as if she thought that was enough to prove his credentials. ‘He’s all right.’ She was wearing leggings, shoes with extraordinarily high heels and a stringy long-sleeved black top that slipped off one shoulder as she climbed the front step. Once in the hall she took Megan from me without a word and tottered off out of sight. Lee made a move to follow her but I quickly took a step sideways, blocking his way.

‘Sorry, Lee. There’s a café in the park along the way if you’d like a cuppa while you’re waiting.’ My pulse quickened again, but I stood firm.

He stared at me for a second or two, shrugged and then craned his head around the doorjamb, his face just a few inches from mine. ‘Laters, Chris,’ he shouted down the hall, his fusty breath hot on my face. I turned, partly because of the overwhelmingly strong stench of nicotine and stale aftershave, but also to see if I could work out where Christina had taken herself off to. There was no sign of her, but from somewhere downstairs she grunted a noise of acknowledgement.

‘Oh, Lee?’

He turned. ‘Yeah?’

‘Would you mind taking that with you?’

‘Huh?’

I nodded towards the path, where faint wisps of smoke were still rising from the half-finished cigarette. He gave me a look that suggested he thought I was the sort of person who kept the food tins lined up in the cupboard in alphabetical order, then trudged over and kicked the butt into the hedge.

In the living room, Christina had kicked off her shoes and was sitting on the sofa, her legs tucked up beneath her. Megan lay sleeping in the curve of her right arm, and in the same hand she held a mobile phone, the back of which was chequered with green and yellow striped tape. One of her thumbs moved swiftly over the screen. With impressive dexterity, she managed intermittent licks of the ice cream she held in her other hand without disturbing Megan or diverting attention from her phone. ‘All right?’ she said, biting off the bottom of the cone.

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