office, that is?’ John was famous for never leaving work much before that.
‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘Now I’ll let you get back to the party.’
His tone was bright and chirpy, so why did I fear bad news so much?
***
‘Because it will be?’ Mike said, as he shovelled the last of the paper plates into the recycling.
He had narrowly avoided being hung, drawn and quartered by showing up a full twenty minutes before the designated end time and entertaining the kids with some high-octane rough and tumble, while Riley and I divvied up the birthday cake and wrapped sticky slices to shove into the thirty-five-odd party bags. Yes, they’d leave hitting the ceiling with over-excitement, but once they’d calmed down they would all sleep well tonight.
Now it was just a case of sluicing down and tidying up. ‘He didn’t sound as if it was,’ I said. ‘But my antennae are twitching.’
‘And definitely not a new child?’ Mike asked.
‘He said not. Though there’s a thought. Perhaps an old one?’
This did happen sometimes; you thought a child had moved on from you successfully, only to have things break down – perhaps at home, or with a ‘forever’ foster family – months or even years down the line. It hadn’t happened to us, but that wasn’t to say it couldn’t.
‘Well, there’s no point in speculating,’ Mike said, as he knotted the green bag. ‘It will be what it will be. And he’ll be here any minute to put you out of your misery. In fact …’ We heard the bing-bong of the doorbell simultaneously. ‘Speak of the devil. Get the kettle on. I’ll go and let him in.’
Mike did so, and moments later John was standing in my kitchen in his ‘lucky’ jacket. A raggy tweed number, which couldn’t have screamed ‘public sector’ louder, and which he’d had for as long as I’d known him. For all his teasing earlier, he shrugged it off and came straight to the point. ‘I’m leaving,’ he said. ‘End of this month.’
‘Whaaaatttt?’ I said, teaspoon of coffee in mid-scoop. ‘As in leaving? As in two weeks from now? Just like that?’ I knew my face was probably reflecting my emotions a little too much, but I couldn’t help it. How could this be happening so suddenly, and so soon?
Or, more accurately, why didn’t I already know? Jobs like John’s weren’t the kind that you just walked away from with a couple of weeks’ notice. They had long notice periods, and complex, structured handovers. John was the fostering agency as far as I was concerned. He knew everything and everyone; how could it possibly cope without him? Yes, a bit melodramatic, maybe, but not too far from the honest truth.
‘I know it’s a bit out of the blue,’ he said, ‘and it’s not how I’d planned it. It’s just that my dad’s not well, as you know, and we really need to relocate, and –’
‘Oh, God, John, I’m sorry,’ I said, feeling awful. I knew his dad had been ill. I knew he lived alone, some way distant. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, you must. Just ignore me. Sorry – but, God, it’s just so sudden.’
‘So leaving the service entirely?’ Mike asked, pulling out a chair and gesturing that John should sit on it. ‘Quite a big life change for you, then.’
‘Yes and no,’ John said. ‘And, Casey, really, don’t worry. I’m not dashing off to attend him on his death bed or anything. He’s getting a kidney transplant and all being well it’s going to revolutionise his life, so it’s all positive. And the truth is that I’ve been offered this promotion twice already and have always said I’m not interested – not least because we’re so settled here. But with Dad and that, well, it seemed fate was telling me something, and as there’s someone unexpectedly available who can slot in pretty easily …’
Promotion. Of course. Why wouldn’t he want promotion?
‘So what’s the new job?’ I asked, recovering my equilibrium a little.
‘I’m taking over as Senior County Manager. You know, mixing with all the big wigs and overseeing some of the regional teams.’
‘So just leaving the area,’ Mike said.
John nodded. I put his coffee in front of him. ‘And they already have a replacement for you?’ I asked. ‘How can they? You’re irreplaceable. Everyone knows that.’
John grinned. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Casey. That’s so nice of you to say. But it’s still absolutely not true. That’s why we’re able to rush things through. I know it sounds as though I’m deserting a sinking ship, what with all the budget cuts, and politics, and extra stress everyone’s been facing just lately, but I’m hoping I’m going be in a position of greater influence.’ He grinned. ‘Speaking truth to power, and lots of other noble stuff like that.’
‘Well, congratulations,’ Mike said, raising his own coffee mug. ‘Good on you. Lovely as it’s been to have you all to ourselves for so long, if the call comes, why wouldn’t you take it? Cometh the hour, cometh the man and all that. The state that social services are in these days, we need some sort of shake-up. Casey, we will cope,’ he added, seeing my ill-concealed stricken face.
‘Thanks, Mike,’ John said. ‘I have to say I’m really looking forward to it. It’s going to be very different – not to mention very challenging, I don’t doubt – but I’m not going to miss working the ridiculous hours I do. And neither will ’er indoors, as I’m sure you can imagine. Well …’ He smiled. ‘You two, of all people, know all about that, don’t you?’
Didn’t we just. And we’d never minded. It was the nature of what we did. But to do it without John? Calm, capable, unflappable, always-at-the-end-of-the-phone, supportive, lovely John? I simply couldn’t imagine it.
‘I’m really, really pleased for you,’ I told him, and, despite my shock, I meant it. It was because he had always been all of those things that he needed, and deserved, to have a break from it. We all knew the saying that on your death bed you never wish you’d spent more time at the office. But how many of us forget it till it’s all too late? This was absolutely his time to remember and act on it. And there was no doubt about it. He should.
‘Thanks, Casey,’ he said. ‘I knew you would understand. I was worried about a general foster-carer exodus – I still am – but I knew I could rely on you two. Change is always hard, but I’m sure you’ll get on brilliantly with Christine Bolton once you get to know her, and –’
‘Christine? So it’s a woman taking over from you?’ I asked him. ‘The name doesn’t ring a bell. Should it?’
‘No,’ John said, ‘she’s not from round here. She’s relocating too. She’s currently based in Liverpool. Doing pretty much the same job as me. And the reason it’s all fallen into place the way it has is that she wants to move fairly quickly for family reasons, too. I don’t know all the details, but I believe her partner needs to return here. Another elderly parent situation.’
‘Twas ever thus …’ mused Mike.
But I had fixed on something else. ‘Once we get to know her?’ I asked John, whom I knew better than perhaps he realised. ‘Why “once you get to know her”? Come on. What aren’t you telling
