The Boy No One Loved (20 page)

And I also remembered, as I pushed my trolley round the supermarket that Saturday, looking for crumpets and that particular brand of hot chocolate Justin liked, that his new foster family didn’t live that far away. Which meant that just as emotional bonds didn’t break unless you cut them, so family traditions, such as ours, didn’t need to either.

‘What shall it be then, Casey, do you think? Shall I wear the rugby shirt or my red hoodie? I can’t make my mind up.’

It was a bright and frosty Saturday in the first week of November, and Mike was once again driving Justin to his mother’s house for a contact visit. It was the first one since the terrible debacle back in August, and also, I realised, with a predictably heavy heart, probably the last one Mike or I would be involved in. I couldn’t go with them this time, much as I wished that I could. By now, poor Riley was a week past her due date and I didn’t dare stray too far from home in case she went into labour and needed me – as one of her birth partners – by her side.

It was a responsibility I took very seriously, as it was such a joy and a privilege to have been asked. I’d always sneakily hoped she might want me there, right from the start – what mother wouldn’t? – but I wouldn’t have dreamed of pushing myself forward, because that wouldn’t have been right. It was a decision Riley and David would and should be making together, so all I could do was keep my fingers crossed they’d want me there too.

And happily, they did, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled; to have the chance to witness my first grandchild coming into in the world – to say I had been over the moon is an understatement, really, and now the date was so close I could hardly contain myself.

But that of course meant I couldn’t be there for Justin that day. And though I knew Mike could handle everything perfectly well without me, I still spent the time fretting about what was happening, and praying that this time it would all go okay. I didn’t think I’d be able to keep a lid on letting my feelings be known if Janice did anything to hurt Justin today. I felt like a tigress with her cub, ready to attack anyone who upset him.

The visit had been a long time coming. Since the nightmare of the last visit, the no-contact order had remained firmly in place, and Janice had been subject to constant scrutiny. Social services had been working pretty much full time with the family, with support workers going in to visit on a weekly basis.

They’d kept me informed, too, letting me know that Janice had had things spelled out to her very clearly. She’d been told that unless she co-operated with social services fully, there was a real danger that she could lose her remaining children too, and quite possibly have her baby, now just born, put on the child-protection register. This had apparently shaken her up greatly, and it seemed that she had subsequently made a real effort to make some major changes in her life. This had included her cutting out most of her ‘friends’, admitting to the police that her middle son was possibly telling the truth about some form of abuse, though she still maintained that she couldn’t remember the names of all the men who used to come around to take drugs.

She was now attending parenting classes and had undergone drug-rehabilitation treatment, so, all in all, it did seem as though she had turned a corner – one which I fervently hoped might be good news for Justin; perhaps it wasn’t too late for their relationship after all.

I was certainly keen to share these positive snippets of news with him. Anytime I had an update about things going well I made a point of passing the good news on, and he did seem pleased to hear it, but there was always a slight reserve in his interest at such times, the understandable effect of all their previous encounters being that he simply couldn’t afford to get his hopes up. Thinking about that now made my resolve even stronger. We occupied a privileged position in Justin’s young life – he trusted us completely. So we must always remain constants – people with whom he
could
get his hopes up, secure in the knowledge that we would never, ever let him down.

But that glimmer of hope where his mother was concerned could never be completely extinguished, and with the evidence of her attempts to be a better parent (even if not, at this point, to him) it seemed to me that it mustn’t be, either. Quite apart from anything else, Justin had his brothers, and it was so important that he maintain that connection.

So when, just a few days back, after a catch-up meeting with Harrison Green, Justin had suggested it might be time to phone his mum, I was quietly pleased that, once again, he’d taken charge of the situation, even though, at the same time, I was immediately anxious about the possibility of her rejecting him again. I obviously double-checked that this would be okay before allowing it, but as it turned out, the phone call went really well. Justin asked how she was and also asked about the baby, even laughing when Janice told him that she looked just like he had when he was born.

But after chatting for ten minutes, Justin suddenly passed the phone to me, putting me into something of a fluster.

‘Go on, Casey,’ he urged, pressing the phone into my hand. ‘It’s okay. She just wants to ask you if I can go see her.’

I felt uncomfortable and a bit flustered. I was really unsure how to talk to her. Which wasn’t surprising, given the circumstances of our previous meeting. But I was surprised to hear her tell me that she wanted to thank me for everything we had done for Justin, and then came the bombshell: she completely floored me by also expressing her wish that Justin could stay with us for ever, because she knew how much he loved us.

I was floored. I didn’t really know how to take this. I knew she meant well – everything in her tone made that obvious – but given all the progress since August, and with both of them, I couldn’t understand why she’d say something like that. Surely her wish should have been that, eventually, he could be returned to
her
?

So I just told her that it had been a privilege to be able to care for him and what a lovely young man I knew he’d turn out to be, and agreed to her request that we drive him up to see her, while inside feeling so very sad.

And it seemed as though it was a bit of a week for it. Justin hadn’t just offered an olive branch to his mother. He’d also, once the visit to his mum had been arranged, made peace with both of the men who might have fathered him, sitting down and writing letters to them both. This had come as something of a bolt out of the blue for me, as it had been something Justin had decided to do entirely unprompted. I had thought the blow of meeting the man at the snooker club had been a big one, but when Justin asked Harrison if he’d be able to pass some letters on for him, and told us the details, we were both so impressed by his maturity. He said he just wanted to let both men know that there were no bad feelings on his part and that should either of them want to get in touch with him in the future he would be very happy to hear from them. Seeing these – I’d sat with him and checked all his grammar and spelling before passing them on to Harrison – really brought a lump to my throat. And it was as much about his sense of acceptance as anything. He’d come to terms with the fact that perhaps he’d never know his real father, and was able to move forward without harbouring bitter thoughts.

It was clear evidence of just how far he had now travelled emotionally that he was able to be so rational and generous towards adults that had shown him nothing but neglect or misery.

‘Do you know Justin, this is so grown up of you,’ I’d told him as he carefully folded the letters and sealed the envelopes. ‘When they get those letters, I bet they’re going to feel very lucky to have you somewhere in their lives.’

He’d shrugged the shrug of a person resigned but not distressed. ‘Well, it’s up to them now, isn’t it? The main thing’s I feel like I’ve done something about it so I don’t have to worry about it any more.’ He shrugged again, and gave me a lopsided smile. ‘Got it out, shook it out and put it away in my wardrobe, eh, Casey?’ I nodded, choked and touched. ‘And if they want me, they know how to find me now, don’t they?’

I felt a real pang of compassion for him, and also a keen sense of injustice, at just how bloody unfair life could be. This boy could have had such a different outcome from day one, he really could, if just
one
of the adults in his life had been there for him. Properly there for him, selflessly and unconditionally – just as so many kids, my own included, could take for granted. But I pushed it to one side. He was dealing with it, wasn’t he? And that was all he
could
do. Deal with it and move on.

I felt so proud of him. ‘That’s exactly right, love,’ I said firmly. ‘You’ve done your bit. So, no, you don’t have to worry about it any more.’

But it turned out that I hadn’t had to worry that morning, as I’d anxiously waved Mike and Justin off. When they returned a few hours later Justin was all smiles and laughter, so I could see straight away that the visit had gone well.

In the main, he was full of his little sister.

‘Oh Casey, you should have seen her, she’s so cute, she’s gorgeous! An’ she’s not called Princess, she’s called Gemma, and – hang on a minute.’ He pulled off and began rummaging in his backpack. ‘I’ve got a photo here somewhere that I can show you.’ Finally he found it, and carefully extracted it, before holding it up proudly for me to look at.

‘Oh sweetheart, she is just beautiful!’ I agreed. ‘She really is. And Gemma – what a lovely name! And you know, your mum was right. She really does look a lot like you did in your baby pictures.’

‘I know’ he gushed, ‘and she’s so strong, as well. She grabbed hold of my little finger and she wouldn’t let go, she’s got a right grip on her!’

We all laughed at this. ‘And she’s always smiling,’ he went on. ‘You saw her, didn’t you, Mike?”

Mike nodded. I could see he was as caught up in Justin’s mood as I was. ‘I did mate,’ he confirmed. ‘Right little smiler, she is, isn’t she? And with lovely blonde curls just like yours.’

I could see how much it meant to Justin, Mike saying that, and he sighed happily as he studied the picture. ‘Aw, Casey,’ he said. ‘You would have loved her, you would.’ He then waggled the picture in front of me again. ‘Do you have a frame I could use for this, by the way? I want to put it up beside my bed.’

I went into the kitchen to dig out a spare frame and Justin took his new favourite possession up to his room. ‘Sounds like he’s had fun,’ I said to Mike, once Justin had gone.

‘Oh, he did,’ he agreed. ‘And it was good for him, I think. I’m just pleased that his mum had the sense to lay off this time.’

‘Me too,’ I said, putting on the kettle to make him a coffee. Perhaps there was hope for them yet.

But it was hope of a different kind that Justin was harbouring, and, to my surprise it didn’t centre on him. We were sitting in the living room, an hour or so later, the three of us, eating take-away pizza. This was a very rare treat in my house. I wouldn’t normally ever let the kids eat in the living room – woe betide them – but as Kieron was at Lauren’s, and Justin had no PlayStation buddy, and because this had been a pretty big day for him too, I relaxed my rule and we all shared our feast watching TV. Well, sort of.

‘You know,’ Justin remarked, out of nowhere, as we munched. ‘I hope my mum manages to stay good now she’s got a little girl.’

I put down the piece of Margherita I was holding, unsure of what he was getting at. ‘How d’you mean, love?’ I asked him, wiping the grease from my fingers.

‘Well, I don’t think she really liked boys. Not really. You know, because of all the bad men and stuff.’ He seemed to consider a moment, staring into the middle distance. ‘But she just seems so different now. I think she really loves this one, you know?’

I didn’t really know what to say to this, but he expected a response. And I needed to supply one.

‘Justin,’ I said. ‘I really think your mum loves
all
her kids. She just really struggled to cope when you were little. But she’s stronger now and is doing so much better for herself. I think she’ll stay good, my love, you’ll see.’

Justin thought for a while before continuing. Then he nodded. ‘I think you’re right. I hope you are, too, because that’s my little sister and no-one’s gonna hurt her. Not even mum.’

Mike and I exchanged a glance as Justin bit into his pizza. ‘I think she’ll be fine, babes,’ I told him.

He seemed to believe this. ‘I do too,’ he said firmly. ‘It just makes me wonder though, Casey, why me? You know, why is it just
me
in care, and none of the others?’

This was the first time, to my knowledge, that Justin had ever asked this, and it was a question that everybody else, including me, had asked, but had never had any real answer to.

It hit me then that Justin was at last coming to terms with the fact that it was his mother who had left him in care. That nobody else was to blame for his situation; not him, not social services, just his mother. This must have been such painful knowledge for a child to have to digest. But in doing so, he was taking a very important step towards some sort of peace.

‘I really don’t know, sweetheart,’ I told him honestly. ‘One day, when you’re older, and you and your mum are able to talk grown-up to grown-up, she might be able to explain things a bit better to you. But what you
do
have to know is that it isn’t your fault. It’s never been your fault, not ever. And just remember – you have loads of people who love you, okay?’

Justin shoved a handful of chips into his mouth. ‘What’s not to love, eh?’ he said, grinning.

But as well as having to accept the changes in the situation with his blood family, which he seemed to be doing admirably at the moment, Justin had also to prepare for a more immediate transition – that of gradually separating from the day-to-day life of our family, and becoming a part of a different one.

We had yet to meet the couple who were scheduled to become Justin’s new foster carers. All we knew of them was that they were a middle-aged couple called Nick and Glynis Hanson, who had, after multiple miscarriages, given up trying to have children of their own. Instead, they had decided to foster. They’d only had one child placed with them, so far, but it had been for a very long time. John told me he had been with them for seven years in all, and was now grown up and living independently at university.