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were a bit beyond her at her age. As it was Friday and we didn’t have to be up early for school the following morning, the children stayed up later than usual. Occupied with the games, Beth temporarily forgot her sadness and seemed to take comfort in having John there – indeed, she wouldn’t leave him alone. If I felt slightly uncomfortable about the way she was always touching him – rubbing his arm or running her fingers through his hair – I dismissed it. She was missing her father, that was all.

      Just after eight o’clock, when I saw Paula begin to yawn and rub her eyes, I said, ‘Bedtime, love. Say goodnight.’ She went round everyone saying goodnight and offering her cheek for kissing.

      The bedtime routine was easier with John home and only half the work for me. While I took Paula to bed he kept Adrian and Beth amused, then, once Paula was in bed, John and I swapped places, and he spent time saying goodnight to Paula while I continued playing games with Adrian and Beth. Then at nine o’clock John saw Adrian into bed while I went with Beth.

      Beth became sad again at bedtime, so I sat with her and stroked her forehead until she fell asleep. By nine-thirty all three children were in bed and asleep and John and I went into the living room. I was looking forward to a kiss and a cuddle and to catching up on our news. John suggested he open a bottle of wine and he went into the kitchen to pour us a glass each. Just as he did, the telephone rang and I quickly answered it in the living room, hoping the ringing hadn’t woken the children. I thought it might be an old friend telephoning for a chat, in which case I’d explain that John had just returned from working away and I’d phone back another time.

      However, it wasn’t an old friend.

      ‘Cathy,’ Marianne began as soon as I answered. ‘I’ve just returned from seeing Derek at the hospital. I’ve been there for over three hours. I thought you’d want to know what happened. Are you OK to talk?’

      She sounded very stressed and I could hardly say no. ‘How is Derek?’ I asked.

      ‘Not good, which is why I stayed so long. All the worry has really set back his recovery, and of course I feel partly responsible.’

      ‘Why do you feel responsible?’ I asked, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. I could hear John moving around in the kitchen as he took the wine glasses from the cabinet.

      ‘There was a meeting at the hospital earlier this week,’ Marianne continued. ‘Derek had to attend. I’m not sure which day it was – he was unclear. Jessie was there; so too was a nurse from his ward and the psychologist. They talked about Derek and Beth’s home life, and some of the things I told you – about the way Derek and Beth behave towards each other – came up.’

      ‘Oh,’ I said.

      ‘I’m not blaming you,’ Marianne said quickly. ‘I agreed you should tell Jessie. But the way it was said made it sound as though I was accusing Derek of child abuse, which I certainly wasn’t. They also talked about the things you’d told Jessie – about some photographs and other stuff. Miss Willow was mentioned too.’

      ‘But I don’t understand,’ I said as soon as Marianne paused. ‘Why now? I thought all that had been dealt with when I first brought it up. Jessie told me that there were no grounds for concern. Indeed, she made me feel I was being malicious for suggesting anything was wrong. So why has all this come up now?’ John returned to the living room carrying a glass of wine in each hand, which he set on the coffee table within reach, and then sat beside me on the sofa, waiting for me to finish on the telephone.

      ‘I don’t know,’ Marianne said. ‘Each time Derek started to tell me what Jessie had said he became upset and started crying. It’s possible it had something to do with Beth’s visit last Friday. I believe Jessie took her to the hospital?’

      ‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said. ‘But Jessie didn’t say anything was wrong when she brought Beth home. Although, come to think of it, I remember she seemed a bit preoccupied. But Beth hasn’t said anything went wrong with her visit; in fact, she said she’d had a good time. Oh dear,’ I said, suddenly remembering something, ‘I hope it hasn’t got anything to do with what Beth was wearing. She got herself ready and chose clothes that weren’t suitable. She also put on a lot of make-up, but there wasn’t time to do anything about it.’

      ‘I doubt that’s got anything to do with it,’ Marianne said. ‘Beth’s always dressing up, and Derek didn’t mention that. What he did say, though – which sounded odd to me – was that Jessie had stopped Beth from sitting on some of the other male patients’ laps and also from playing kiss chase. I’ve no idea what all that was about, and Derek didn’t seem to know.’

      ‘I’ve no idea,’ I agreed, puzzled and concerned. ‘Beth didn’t mention that to me.’ John gave a small sigh and picking up the newspaper opened it to the first page.

      ‘Marianne,’ I said, ‘I’m going to have to go soon. My husband has just returned home from work. Can we speak another time?’

      ‘Yes, sure, although that’s all, really. I take it Jessie hasn’t telephoned you with any more information?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘I’ll telephone her on Monday,’ Marianne said, ‘and see if she’s willing to tell me what’s going on. This is Derek’s worst nightmare. He was paranoid before about losing Beth, and now …’ Marianne left the sentence unfinished. ‘I would never have said anything if I thought this could have happened.’

      I chose my reply very carefully. ‘I think we all have a duty to report genuine concerns about children,’ I said. ‘I don’t think you, I or Miss Willow did anything wrong in voicing our worries. It was up to Jessie and the social services to act as they saw fit. You shouldn’t blame yourself.’

      ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Marianne said. ‘It’s all so confusing. I really don’t understand what’s going on.’

      ‘It’s very confusing for Beth too,’ I said.

      ‘Yes. Poor kid. I’ll let you go now. I’ll be visiting Derek again over the weekend and I’ll telephone you if I have any more news.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      We said goodbye and I hung up. John looked at me. ‘Problems?’ he asked, closing the newspaper and putting it to one side.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘So tell me.’ Which I did. And being able to share my worries helped.

      We had a good day on Saturday. Adrian and Paula were delighted to have their father home and that he was able to spend time playing with them. Beth put on a brave face and didn’t need much encouragement to join in the games. Indeed, as with the evening before, she took comfort in having John there and constantly sought out his attention. A few times during the day she came to me and quietly made a comment about her father, showing he was never far from her mind. ‘I wonder what my daddy is doing,’ or ‘I hope Daddy is all right.’ I reassured her as best I could. I didn’t tell her that Marianne had telephoned the previous evening, for she hadn’t really said anything positive that might help Beth, and given Beth’s previous animosity towards Marianne I didn’t think it was wise to tell Beth that Marianne had visited her father in hospital when she had been stopped from seeing him. However, I did tell Beth that if Jessie didn’t telephone me on Monday then I would telephone her on Tuesday to see if she had any news, which was all I could say, really, and seemed to reassure her.

      At seven o’clock – the time Beth would normally have been telephoning her father – she left John’s side and, snuggling up to me on the sofa, whispered, ‘Can’t we telephone my daddy without Jessie knowing? I won’t tell anyone.’

      We were all in the living room watching some television and I replied quietly so as not to disturb the others. ‘No, love. As your foster carer I have to do what your social worker tells me or I’ll get into trouble.’

      Beth thought for a moment. ‘What if I phoned my daddy without telling you? You could write the telephone number on a piece of paper and leave

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