Desperate Measures (16 page)

Daniel’s mum came to get him from the hospital but we had to stay there all night. They put Vicky in a room on her own but Jamie and I were in the big ward with lots of other children. It was really noisy and busy and hot and I couldn’t get to sleep even though I put my little penguin on my pillow next to me. The nurses kept going into Vicky’s room but when I asked if she was all right they just said she was doing fine.

The next morning Vicky was still asleep and Jamie and I were having our breakfast when one of the nurses came over.

‘You’ve got a special visitor,’ she told us. ‘We don’t usually let anyone on the ward this early – but we’ve made an exception.’

I thought it was Daniel but then a policeman came in with another man.

‘Dad!’ Jamie yelled.

I wasn’t so sure. This man didn’t look like our dad at all. This man looked worn out. He had a beard and his hair was long and his clothes were scruffy. And he was wearing a metal bracelet which was joined to the policeman.

‘Is it really Dad?’ I whispered to Jamie.

Jamie leapt up and threw his arms round him.

‘Course it’s Dad!’

I jumped up too and we both hugged him together.

‘Steady on!’ Dad laughed, hugging us back tightly with the arm that didn’t have the bracelet.

‘Am I glad to see you two!’ he said.

‘Are you in trouble?’ Jamie asked, looking at the policeman who was standing next to Dad.

Dad made a face. ‘Just a bit.’

‘Did you run away too?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘I was frantic. Couldn’t think of anything else but finding you all. I was racking my brains trying to figure out where you might be, then I just had this weird feeling you were at Great Auntie Irene’s. I hitched a lift.’ He looked down at the floor. ‘I didn’t know she’d died,’ he said quietly. ‘I hid in the woods for a day wondering what to do next. That’s where they picked me up, yesterday evening.’

‘What was it like in prison?’ I asked.

Dad started telling us about it. It sounded a bit like some of the children’s homes but bigger and for grownups. Dad had worked in the prison gardens and now he knew about growing all kinds of stuff – tomatoes, beans,
cabbages, potatoes, carrots, peas and loads of other things. Sometimes they let him out to work on a farm and that’s how he escaped. He was supposed to be picking lettuces but he crept out of the greenhouse when no one was looking.

I told him about the stinky children’s homes and Sarah and Paul and the baby. He went all quiet when he heard how we were going to be split up.

He told us he was sorry for what he’d done, he had been stupid and if there was anyway he could make it up to us he would. He said life was going to be better from now on. He wasn’t ever going to be a lorry driver again and he was never, ever going to do anything wrong like delivering McCready’s stolen goods.

Jamie looked at him. ‘What about your whisky and stuff?’

Dad pulled a face. ‘That’s done with. Strongest thing I’ll drink now is a cup of tea.’

‘You’re going to look after us when you come out of prison, aren’t you?’ Jamie asked.

Dad looked down at the floor again.

‘Dad? You’ll look after us won’t you?’ I said.

He looked at the policeman standing next to him. ‘I will . . . if they’ll let me,’ he said quietly.

‘Vicky . . .’

I knew that voice. My head was thumping but I forced myself to try to place who it was. I couldn’t understand why there were so many people round my bed – Re, Jamie and two men. I was afraid for a second, not sure where I was.

‘It’s Dad, Vicky,’ came Re’s voice.

‘Dad?’

Puzzled, I lifted my head and looked at the men again – there was a policeman in uniform and handcuffed to him was . . . Dad. He looked a mess. I glanced at the shiny handcuffs as he shifted from foot to foot trying to hide his wrist behind his back.

All the anger that had been stored up in me for the last two years suddenly and completely ebbed away like the tide on a beach. When Mum died, Dad’s world had fallen apart
too. He’d been just like me, trying to get through all the bad stuff as best he could, making bucket loads of mistakes along the way.

‘Dad . . .’

He looked at me uncertainly.

I reached out my arms. His face lit up and he lurched forward almost jolting the bemused policeman off his feet. Re sniggered and looked at Jamie who gave a small snort of laughter.The policeman frowned and tried to look dignified. I didn’t care. I held on to Dad, hugging him tightly.

‘I’m sorry, Vicky,’ he whispered gruffly. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve missed you all so much.’

As hard as I fought them back, I could feel hot tears welling up in my eyes.

‘I’ve missed you too, Dad.’

Mrs Frankish came to the hospital in the afternoon and told us off five times for running away. I counted. She was really angry and said we’d generated a mountain of paperwork. Jamie asked how she got into her office if there was a mountain inside but she didn’t say. She was too busy moaning. She never even asked how Vicky was.

When the doctor said we could go home, I was waiting for Dad to collect us but he never came. I kept telling Mrs Frankish I wanted to go home with him but her mouth went all thin round the edges and she said we’d be lucky. Vicky told me he’d still got a few weeks to go before he was allowed out of prison and besides that he was in a lot of trouble.

I wanted to go and stay with Elizabeth again but Mrs Frankish said we weren’t allowed and told us that just for the weekend we were going to stay with a couple who lived
nearby. She said they fostered kids in an emergency. Their house smelt of fried onions but it was nice and quiet and the next day Vicky didn’t wake up till teatime. They had a big white cat called Egbert. He let me stroke him under his chin.

On Monday morning Mrs Frankish collected us in her car. She said we were going to go to a care home near where we used to live with Sarah and Paul. It took us ages to get there and Jamie was sick because he ate a whole bag of Jelly Babies. We had to have the windows open for the rest of the way.

We only stayed at the care home for a few days because two of the kids were away and we had their rooms. I didn’t mind because it was a horrible place anyway but Vicky was getting really fed up with packing and unpacking our stuff all the time. Then Mrs Frankish told us she’d managed to find a lady called Sandy who could foster us for a few weeks. Vicky got cross and asked what was going to happen after that but Mrs Frankish just said there’d be a meeting to decide.

So we went to Sandy’s next. She lived in a little house at the end of a long row of little houses. She didn’t have a front garden, you just went straight in from the pavement. Mrs Frankish rang on the bell and a big fat lady in a swirly-coloured dress opened the door.

‘Come on in,’ she said. ‘I’m Sandy.’

Mrs Frankish told us she had to go. She said goodbye then started walking back to her car. We went inside and followed Sandy down a long thin hallway. Hung up on the walls were rows and rows of photos of kids.

‘Are these all your children?’ I asked.

‘Foster children,’ she said with a smile.

‘But where do they all sleep?’ I said. I peeped into her tiny sitting room. How would they all squeeze in to watch telly?

‘Oh, they don’t live here now.’ Sandy laughed. ‘I’ve been fostering children for a long time. Over thirty years. Most of this lot are grown-up. Some even have children of their own.’

We went into the kitchen. It was a bit of a mess. There were bowls and spoons and packets of sugar and flour and some eggshells and on a wire rack by the oven a heap of lovely smelling cakes.

‘Had a spare half hour before you arrived,’ Sandy said. ‘You do like cakes, don’t you?’

Jamie grinned. ‘Nah . . . Hate them.’

Sandy made a sad face. ‘Oh blow. There goes my diet again . . .’

‘I’ll eat them for you,’ I told her.

Vicky laughed. ‘Not all of them Re!’ she said.

‘Thanks Rhianna,’ said Sandy. ‘You can help me ice them first, if you like.’

The cakes were scrummy and we had three each.

We went back to school the next day. It was nice to see Maxine again. Her mum had braided her hair with beads and she looked really pretty. I showed her the little penguin Elizabeth gave me and let her stroke it for luck. It worked because Mrs Edwards let us do clay all afternoon. We rolled out long snakes then wound them round and round to make little pots.

Charlene Slackton’s going out with Manky Matt now. Vicky said they deserved each other. She doesn’t like him any more – she likes Daniel now. He’s been texting her and she texts him back. She ran out of credit yesterday so she rang him on Sandy’s phone. They talked for hours and hours until Sandy told Vicky she’d better come off the phone before she wore it out.

After Vicky put down the phone it rang again straight away. She said she’d answer it because it was probably Daniel ringing her back but it wasn’t. It was Mrs Frankish. She said the special meeting would be tomorrow at her office.

She told Vicky there would be some very important people there and we all had to be on our very best behaviour. I’d rather go to McDonald’s.

Vicky asked her if we were going home with Dad after the special meeting and Mrs Frankish told her the issues were very complex. She always uses words like that. I think she makes them up so we can’t understand what she’s talking about. I asked Vicky what Mrs Frankish meant but she just got cross and told me not to get my hopes up. Jamie said not to worry. If they didn’t let Dad look after us he’d whack them all in their rudey bits and he didn’t care if they were very important people. Vicky didn’t even bother telling him off.

She was really moody all evening and she’d started biting her nails again. She’d already chewed them right down to the pink skin and she’d even made her little finger bleed.

That night was the longest I’d ever known. Sandy said we ought to get to bed early to be ready for the meeting the next day so we all went up at nine. Re fell asleep quite quickly, convinced that tomorrow she’d be back with Dad, but I lay in bed listening to the sounds of the night, unable to relax.

Niggling worries kept burrowing their way into my mind, churning up my thoughts and pulling them one way then another. By running away Dad had got himself in deep trouble. But had he also blown his chances of looking after us when he left prison? I just didn’t know. Social workers were supposed to keep families together, weren’t they? I sighed. I don’t think I’d ever heard Mrs Frankish say one good word about him.

I turned over, trying to blank out the bad thoughts and
concentrate on the good. Us being together again. After all, that was what we all wanted. What we all needed. None of us wanted to be split up – we had a right to be together. It wasn’t so much to ask, was it? It wasn’t as if we were asking for the moon!

I checked my watch. It was four in the morning. Everything was quiet except my mind. That was driving me bonkers. It just wouldn’t shut up. Then just when I thought I couldn’t stand it any longer, I must have finally fallen asleep because suddenly I was back in our cave again . . . with Mrs Frankish. In my dream, she was done up as a witch – a full pointy nose and green skin job, bending over a cauldron, stirring a foul-smelling potion. I tried to ask her to help us, but she just gave a horrible cackle as she threw more bits of dead animals into her steaming pot. Then, thankfully, from nowhere, I heard Re’s voice calling my name. I opened my eyes and saw her large moon face staring down at me.

‘Vicky! Come on. Wake up! Sandy says we’ve got to get ready. We’re going soon!’ She turned back to her bed and taking her little penguin from her pillow, stuffed it into her pocket, for luck, she said.

It was eight o’clock. The meeting was at nine-fifteen. I leapt out of bed and pulled on my clothes. Downstairs, Jamie was already dressed and getting his trainers on.

Sandy took us by bus to the offices where Mrs Frankish was based. The journey seemed endless with traffic jams all the way and it was bucketing with rain, but Re didn’t seem to notice. She was talking excitedly to Sandy about how we were all going to live with Dad and grow veggies and how
she’d have a pet rabbit or ten. I glanced at Jamie. He was sitting completely still, his face the colour of concrete. His caterpillar eyebrows were knitted together in an angry scowl. He’d hardly said a thing all morning. Neither of us had eaten any breakfast.

The bus lurched to a halt. Sandy called softly to us and we got off, walked along the wet pavement then climbed the steps to an official-looking glass-fronted building. I gulped in some air. This was it. The place where our future would be decided.

Inside, the receptionist directed us to a waiting room where we sat for what seemed like a century, but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. Finally, a serious-looking man in a grey suit came in and told us to follow him. Sandy flashed us a small hopeful smile and wished us luck.

The man took us into Mrs Frankish’s office. It was cold and ponged of mushrooms. It had grey stripy paper on the walls and a big white board you could draw pictures on but nobody had. On the back wall there were shelves from the ceiling to the floor and they were full of books and folders and piles of papers. In front of the window was a desk with a phone on it. Mrs Frankish sat behind the desk. She was wearing a black suit with silver buttons. It had long sleeves and a high neck that looked like it might choke her. She didn’t smile at us, not even once. She told us to sit down and pointed to some chairs with her bony hand.

Sitting next to her was a man with glasses and long grey hair in a ponytail and a woman with big sticking-out teeth who smiled at us all the time.

The man was looking through some papers on his lap.

‘Where’s Dad?’ I asked.

The man looked up and stared at me over the top of his glasses. The smiley woman with the teeth turned and whispered to Mrs Frankish who whispered something back.

‘Your father isn’t coming today, Rhianna,’ she said very slowly and very loudly with an even bigger smile.