For a second I wondered whether he had considered the possibility that Tracy might have hidden the phone and then engineered its reappearance, but I quickly admonished myself for such an uncharitable thought. I knew that jealousy of a partner’s children was an issue for some people, but it wasn’t fair to jump to conclusions. And, I reminded myself, it was none of my business either.
I made a non-committal sound and then he said: ‘Can I call them tonight, love? I won’t make it near bedtime just in case it upsets them, like. I just want them to know I’m thinking of them –’
‘Of course, it’s not a problem at all.’
‘Six o’clock then, just before I set off for work.’
True to his word, Jimmy called on the dot of six o’clock. I hadn’t told the children to expect his call in case he let them down again, so Archie was taken aback when I held the phone out to him. ‘It’s Dad? What, my dad?’
I laughed. ‘Yes. Come on, he wants to talk to you.’
There was a big grin on Archie’s face as he strolled around with the phone aloft, his sister clinging to his leg and stretching out her arms to hurry him along. Bobbi stilled when it was her turn to speak, twisting shyly from side to side.
‘I’m going to call Danny and see if I can spend some time with them in half-term, if that’s okay with you, Rosie?’ Jimmy said, once he’d wished the children goodnight. ‘I don’t want to go stepping on your toes if you’ve something planned but I want to see as much of them as I can.’
I suddenly felt a little more optimistic about the children’s future. Jimmy sounded sincere about his plans; a good sign if they were ever to return to his care. ‘We’ll work around you,’ I told him, my thoughts flashing to Tracy’s sudden illness on Saturday and the mystery of his vanishing phone.
Jimmy would have to demonstrate his reliability and total commitment if he wanted social services to give serious consideration to his application as a full-time parent. Given that he had to work, he would also presumably have to prove that Tracy was in full support of the idea, so that there was someone to take care of the children while he wasn’t around. I couldn’t help wondering whether Tracy was quite as sold on the idea of becoming a ready-made family of four as Jimmy seemed to be.
The week passed quickly and before we knew it half-term was upon us. After checking with Danny, I agreed a few times during the week for Jimmy to take the children out. The first date we’d arranged was Tuesday 24 February. Jimmy was to pick the children up at ten o’clock and take them back to his house for the day. I wondered how Tracy felt about the arrangement. Worried that she might somehow talk Jimmy into cancelling again, by Monday I found myself tensing every time my mobile pinged. Archie and Bobbi had been thrilled at the prospect of spending so much time with their father and I dreaded having to witness disappointment on their faces all over again.
Bobbi was the first to wake on Tuesday morning. She came downstairs with a fluffy pink bag I’d bought her already packed, her glasses a little skew-whiff on her face. She sat on my lap on the sofa and took out each item one by one. ‘This is my glasses case,’ she said, holding it up reverentially, ‘because I might play with Daddy in Tracy’s garden and I don’t want them to get squished. And this is my lip cream in case it’s windy.’ There was a look of such excitement on her face that I found myself praying that Jimmy would turn up.
When the doorbell rang at just after half past nine, Archie and Bobbi dashed into the hall with their bags clutched to their chests. Their faces fell at the sight of Gary, my ex-husband, who had popped over to take Emily and Jamie out for a cooked breakfast. Bobbi quickly recovered from her disappointment. She ran over to Gary and wrapped her arms around his leg. ‘Bobbi, this is Gary, but you don’t know him,’ I said gently, repeating the mantra I’d grown used to over the weeks. Gary and I exchanged looks as I pulled her away. ‘We only hug people we know very well, sweetie.’
‘You must be Bobbi,’ Gary said, crouching down to say hello. ‘I like your glasses, they’re cool.’ Bobbi grinned and turned her head from side to side to show them off.
‘That’s Archie,’ Bobbi said with a shy half-turn towards her brother.
‘Hello, Gary,’ Archie said politely.
‘Hi, Archie. You’re a Mancunian, I hear.’ Gary and I had separated years earlier after he’d had an affair, but he had remained very involved in Emily and Jamie’s lives. In recent years we had managed to salvage a friendship of sorts and, to his credit, he had welcomed Megan with open arms when she joined our family. He never left her out if ever he brought gifts for Emily and Jamie, and she often tagged along if they went somewhere child-friendly.
Megan interrupted the football banter that followed when she skidded into the hall and leapt onto Gary for a hug. ‘Can I come to breakfast?’
Gary looked at me. ‘That okay?’ I nodded and smiled. ‘Well, then, yes, you can, little one. As a matter of fact I was hoping you would. I need someone to keep Emily and Jamie in line now, don’t I?’
Megan beamed and ran off to round up her brother and sister. Archie and Bobbi sat side by side on the sofa after Gary and the children left, forlorn expressions on their faces. I kept them occupied with a game of I-spy but when ten o’clock came and went their interest waned and melancholy took over.
When I called Jimmy’s mobile number and got an unobtainable tone, my heart sank. I was about to suggest that we all go outside and bounce on the trampoline, when the doorbell rang again. Much to my relief, it was Jimmy I saw when I opened the door, Tracy standing on the path behind him. ‘Dad!’ Archie shouted, charging into the hall. I stepped aside and he threw himself at his father. I was so pleased to see him that I could have hugged him myself. Bobbi trotted into the hall after us. Overwhelmed with the anxiety of waiting, she burst into tears.
‘Ahh, come here, darlin’,’ Jimmy said, squatting down and giving her a hug. He looked up at me. ‘Sorry, Rosie. I mislaid my car keys.’
‘Oh,’ was all I could summon. I found myself beginning to doubt anything Jimmy said. My gaze strayed to Tracy, who was standing with her arms folded. She gave me a tight smile and then looked down at her feet.
It was raining by the time the children got their coats and shoes on. They ran outside to join their father and giggled as he took their hands and ran across the drive. Tracy followed them, frowning up at the sky.
While the house was empty I took the opportunity to write to Megan’s birth mother. Christina had been granted letterbox contact twice yearly, which meant that, unless I felt that it was damaging in some way, I was obliged to update her on how Megan was doing. I sat at the computer and stared at the blank screen with a familiar feeling of resentment. It wasn’t that I harboured any bad feeling towards Christina; quite the opposite in fact – Megan existed because of her, and we had built a positive relationship during the time I had fostered Megan.
What irritated me was that I wasn’t allowed to be honest about Megan and the everyday difficulties she battled with as a result of Christina’s drug and alcohol abuse while pregnant. In one of the first contact letters I wrote, I spoke of Megan’s love of the outdoors, her enthusiasm for life and her gift for bringing people together. I also made reference to her abdominal discomfort and her struggles at nursery because of her hearing difficulties and developmental delay. I sent the letter via the local authority offices for forwarding on to Christina and the social worker that checked the contents had a fit of the vapours. ‘You can’t say that!’ she had said over the telephone. When I asked why not she said that birth parents tended to blame the local
