Will You Love Me? (17 page)

She nodded, but didn’t say anything.

Inside the building, I introduced myself to the receptionist while Lucy and Paula sat on the chairs in the waiting area. I find that receptions in large secondary schools can sometimes be impersonal compared to those of smaller primary schools, where friendly office staff know all the children by name and welcome visitors. Having introduced myself, I explained that I was Lucy’s new foster carer and asked the receptionist if my contact details were on file. She checked and found they weren’t, so I gave her my address and telephone number, which she wrote on a piece of paper.

‘Is this Lucy’s permanent address?’ she asked, glancing up.

‘Yes, for the year.’

She made another note, although I couldn’t see what it was.

‘Also,’ I said, ‘I’d like to make an appointment to see Lucy’s teacher, Miss Connor, please.’

‘You’ll need to arrange that with Miss Connor herself,’ she replied – not terribly helpful.

‘How do I do that?’

‘Phone the school at lunchtime; she won’t be teaching then.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, and turned to the girls. They stood ready to leave.

‘Have a good day then, love,’ I said to Lucy, as she swung her school bag over her shoulder.

She gave a small nod. ‘Bye, Paula, see you later.’

‘Bye,’ Paula said, with a little wave.

We watched Lucy go through the swing doors that led into the main body of the school, and then Paula and I left the building and hurried to the car. Fortunately, most of the traffic was going in the opposite direction, so I arrived at Paula’s school just as the bell was going. I gave her a big kiss, said a quick goodbye and drove home. I hadn’t been in long when the phone rang and it was Jill, my support social worker, from the agency I fostered for.

‘Well done,’ she said, as soon as I answered. ‘Pat tells me you performed a miracle and Lucy is with you now.’

‘She is,’ I said, appreciating the praise. ‘I’ve just returned from taking her to school.’

‘Excellent. So how’s she doing? Settling in?’

‘Yes, she’s doing fine.’

‘Has Lucy’s social worker, Stevie, been in touch yet?’

‘Not yet.’

‘She’ll be phoning you later to arrange a visit, and I need to see you and Lucy too. Can I come after school tomorrow?’

‘Yes, half past four would be good. Give us a chance to have a drink and a snack first.’ Both the child’s social worker and the carer’s support social worker have to visit as soon as possible after a child has moved in.

‘I’ll see you at half past four then,’ Jill confirmed. ‘Do you have any immediate concerns about Lucy?’

‘Only her eating,’ I said. ‘But I’ll discuss that with you tomorrow.’

‘All right. See you tomorrow. And well done.’

‘Thank you.’

I was smiling as I put down the phone. We all like praise – a verbal pat on the back – and foster carers are no exception. I really appreciated Jill’s words, her recognition that I had done well to persuade Lucy to move in without a big scene, and I continued the day with renewed energy – even while doing the housework.

An hour later the landline rang again.

‘Hello, it’s Lucy’s social worker, Stevie. I need to see Lucy, but my diary’s full until Friday, so I’ll come then at half past three.’

‘Can we make it a bit later?’ I said. ‘We won’t be home from school then. Half past four would be better.’

I thought I heard a small sigh before she said: ‘Very well. See you at half past four.’ And with no goodbye, she hung up.

I excused Stevie’s brusqueness on the grounds that, like most social workers, she undoubtedly carried a huge workload and did a very difficult job.

It was only as twelve noon approached that I realized I hadn’t thought to ask the school’s receptionist what time the school broke for lunch – the time I was supposed to phone Lucy’s teacher – so I took a chance and telephoned at 12.30. I gave my name and said that I would like to speak to Miss Connor.

‘She’s at lunch,’ the receptionist said.

‘Yes, I know,’ I said. ‘I was asked to telephone at lunchtime to speak to her.’

‘Hold the line and I’ll see if she’s in the staff room.’

The line went quiet and then a series of clicks followed before a male voice said: ‘Hello, staff room.’

‘Is it possible to speak to Miss Connor, please?’ I asked, in my best speaking voice.

‘Should be,’ he said, sounding friendly and jovial. ‘I’ll ask her.’ I heard him call across the staff room: ‘Miss Connor, are you free?’

‘Yes, she is,’ he said. ‘She’s on her way.’

A moment later a young woman’s voice answered. ‘Hello?’

I gave my name again and said that I was Lucy’s new foster carer and that I thought it would be a good idea if we could meet soon.

‘Yes, absolutely, the sooner the better,’ Miss Connor said enthusiastically. ‘I’m pleased you’ve phoned. I knew Lucy was having to move again. I could see you after school this afternoon, if that suits you?’

‘Yes, please. Although I’ll have my younger daughter with me.’

‘No problem. Come to my classroom when you arrive. It’s E1; reception will direct you. I’ll keep Lucy with me at the end of school.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’ll look forward to meeting you.’

‘And you.’

Miss Connor came across as a very pleasant, well-organized and approachable lady. I was looking forward to meeting her and having the opportunity to discuss Lucy’s progress and what help she might need with her learning.

That afternoon disappeared in a trip to the local shops for groceries, and then it was time to collect Paula. Paula knew she had to come out quickly this week and not lag behind chatting to her friends, as we would be collecting Lucy from school. Adrian had a front-door key and would let himself in as usual.

Paula came out on time and I drove to Lucy’s school. The reception area was busy with other parents and it was a couple of minutes before I was seen. I explained that I had an appointment with Miss Connor and asked for directions to her classroom.

‘E1 is through the swing doors, then turn right, down the corridor, up the staircase on your left, and Miss Connor’s room is on your left,’ the receptionist said.

I thanked her. ‘Did you get all that?’ I joked to Paula, as we went through the swing doors.

Paula grinned and pulled a face. But finding Miss Connor’s classroom wasn’t as complicated as it had sounded, and a couple of minutes later we were at the top of the stairs, standing outside classroom E1. Through the glass in the door I could see Lucy sitting at one of the tables near the front of the room, but there was no sign of her teacher. I knocked on the door and we went in.

Lucy looked up and smiled. ‘That’s my teacher, over there,’ she said, pointing to the young woman working on the wall display at the rear of the classroom.

Miss Connor stopped what she was doing and came over. ‘Lovely to meet you,’ she said pleasantly.

‘And you,’ I said, shaking her hand.

‘I thought the girls could wait in here while we have a chat,’ Miss Connor said. ‘We can use the English office next door.’

‘You’ll be all right in here, won’t you?’ I said to Paula. ‘I’ll be in the room next door.’

Paula nodded and, dropping my hand, went over and sat beside Lucy.

‘Come and fetch us if you need us,’ Miss Connor said to the girls, as we left.

‘Yes, Miss,’ Lucy said respectfully.

The door to the next room was labelled English Office, E2. ‘We call it “The Cupboard”,’ Miss Connor said, as she opened the door and we went in. I could see why.

It was a small room that clearly doubled as the English department’s stock cupboard as well as their office, and it was full. A small steel-framed table and three matching chairs stood in the centre of the room and the walls were lined with cupboards and shelves full of sets of English books. There was just enough room to draw out a chair either side of the table.

‘I’m Lucy’s English teacher as well as her form teacher,’ Miss Connor explained as we sat down.

‘Thank you for seeing me so quickly,’ I said. ‘I know Lucy’s behind with her learning and I want to help her all I can.’

‘That’s great. Why did she have to move?’ Miss Connor asked.

It was a question I’d been expecting and I explained that living with Pat and Terry had only been a temporary arrangement.

‘She’s had so many moves,’ Miss Connor said. ‘Will she be staying with you permanently now?’

It was another question I’d been expecting. ‘Lucy will live with me until the final court hearing,’ I said. ‘Then the judge will make a decision on where she should live permanently. The whole process usually takes about a year.’

‘But it’s not likely Lucy will return to live with her mother, is it?’ Miss Connor asked, concerned. ‘I didn’t think she ever saw her mother.’ As her teacher, she would have some knowledge of Lucy’s background from the school’s records.

‘Lucy doesn’t see her mother often,’ I said. ‘And she’d have to complete a successful parenting assessment to convince the authorities that she is capable of looking after Lucy.’

‘And if the judge decides Lucy shouldn’t go to live with her mother, she’ll stay with you?’

For those who don’t know the workings of the social-care system, a child staying with their present foster carer often seems the most obvious solution.

‘If the judge decides Lucy can’t live with her mother, then the social services will try to find a relative to look after her,’ I explained. ‘That’s always considered the next best option. If there is no suitable relative then the social services will find Lucy a long-term foster family to match her cultural needs. As you know, she’s dual heritage – her father is Thai.’

There was a pause when Miss Connor looked concerned. ‘And Lucy knows all this?’

‘Yes. I’ve explained it to her and so has her social worker.’

‘Poor kid. How very unsettling. It makes you grateful for your own family.’

‘It does,’ I said. Then steering Miss Connor back on track, I said, ‘But while Lucy’s with me I want to do my very best for her, and I hope to make a big difference in a year.’

‘Yes, of course. Absolutely. We must do our best for Lucy. I’ll start by telling you where she is with her learning.’

Chapter Fourteen

Control

Half an hour later I was driving home, mulling over everything Miss Connor had told me while the girls chatted in the rear of the car. I’d told Lucy that Miss Connor was pleased with her progress, although she still had some catching up to do, so Miss Connor and I would help her do that. I’d reassured Lucy that this wasn’t her fault, but the result of all the times she’d been absent from primary schools. What I hadn’t told Lucy was that Miss Connor was more concerned with Lucy’s lack of friends than with her education, which she felt she could catch up on. ‘Isolated’, ‘solitary’, ‘lacking in self-confidence’, ‘low self-esteem’ and ‘doesn’t trust people’ were some of the words and phrases Mrs Connor had used about Lucy. And while I knew, as Miss Connor did, the reasons why Lucy was like this, it was difficult to know what to do about it. Certainly telling Lucy she needed to make friends wouldn’t help. I could support Lucy in her learning, help build her self-esteem through praise, but I couldn’t make friends for her.

‘Lucy, you know you can always invite friends home for tea,’ I said, glancing at her in the interior mirror. ‘I would take them home in the car afterwards,’ I added, for Lucy’s classmates lived in the catchment area of the school – about a twenty-minute drive from us.

‘Thanks,’ Lucy said, and continued chatting to Paula.

I didn’t know what else to say, but I was worried, as Miss Connor was, for social isolation can so easily lead to depression – in children as well as adults.

Adrian was already back when we arrived home. I set about making the dinner while the children unwound from their day at school. Once we’d eaten (with Lucy eating very little again), I explained to her that I liked everyone to do their homework before they watched any television.

‘I haven’t got much homework,’ Lucy said.

‘Nevertheless, I’d like you to do it first,’ I said. I had to start as I meant to carry on.

A little reluctantly, Lucy fetched her school bag and brought it to the table, while Adrian, used to our routine, had already disappeared into the front room to research a piece of homework on the computer. He knew the sooner he completed his homework the sooner he could watch some television. Paula was playing, and I knew that on Mondays she just had reading homework to do, so I would hear her read once I’d seen to Lucy.

‘We’ve got maths and science homework,’ Lucy said with a sigh. ‘I’m in the bottom group for maths.’

‘Well, let’s see if I can help you change that,’ I said. ‘Although maths was never my strong point at school.’

With another sigh, Lucy opened her maths exercise book where a worksheet had been stapled in. ‘Fractions,’ she said, and propped her head on her hand despondently.

I scanned the page and felt confident I could help her, for the sums were quite simple, although I could see that in the previous exercise she’d got quite a few wrong. ‘Do you understand what a fraction is?’ I asked, going back to basics.

‘A part of a whole,’ Lucy said.

‘That’s right. Well done. The number under the line is the whole number and the number above is the number of parts. So if you cut a cake in two and eat half, you are eating one part of two parts.’

‘And the number below the line in a fraction is called the denominator,’ Lucy said. ‘And the number at the top is the numerator.’

‘Excellent,’ I said.

‘I understand that,’ Lucy said gloomily. ‘It’s when you have to add and take them away that I don’t get it.’

‘OK, let me talk you through the stages for adding and taking away one step at a time.’ Starting with the first question, I went through the stages for adding fractions while Lucy did the maths involved. Although I was helping her, it was important she did the calculations herself so she would gain confidence and learn. I did the same with the second fraction, which was a subtraction, and she completed the third by herself, with me beside her to give help if necessary.