right about the photographs. Their poses are more like two adults than father and daughter.’
‘I saw most of the photographs as Beth packed them. They seemed all right to me. They’ve got their clothes on. What’s wrong with them?’
‘It’s the way they’re cuddling and smiling at each other. It makes me feel uncomfortable.’
There was silence on the other end of the telephone and I could guess what Jessie was thinking. I knew I wasn’t handling this correctly, but it was so difficult to put my concerns into words.
‘Some of the things Beth and her father say to each other don’t seem right,’ I said. ‘They are too lovey-dovey. And Marianne has to sleep in Beth’s bed when she stays the night and Beth sleeps with her father.’
‘Isn’t that because Marianne’s relationship with Derek has ended and is simply friendship again?’ Jessie said. ‘I guess she sleeps in Beth’s bed or on the couch.’ Which again was true.
I went to the next point in my notes. ‘When my husband was here at the weekend, at bedtime Beth wanted him to lie on her bed and cuddle her like her father did.’
‘And did he?’
‘I told him not to.’
‘So you dealt with the matter?’
‘Yes. But there are other things.’
‘Go on.’
‘Beth is more like a wife to Derek than a daughter. She has a lot of responsibility. You saw it yourself when you took her home for her things before you brought her here. She was worried about the washing and the food in the fridge spoiling. I’ve had to reassure her that I take care of that sort of thing here. Add my concerns to Marianne’s and Miss Willow’s and there’s definitely something not right,’ I finished lamely.
There was a pause before Jessie asked: ‘Are you suggesting that Derek is abusing his daughter?’
‘No. Well, possibly. I don’t know. But I think someone needs to look into it.’
There was another pause before Jessie said formally, ‘Mrs Glass, I really don’t think there is any cause for concern, but I’m planning on seeing Derek in hospital this evening if I can leave the office in time. I’ll raise your concerns with him then and see what he has to say.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ I blurted. ‘I mean, I don’t want you to say that I said these things.’
‘How else am I to approach the matter? The poor man has a right to know what he is being accused of and to have the chance to defend himself.’
At that point I really regretted saying anything. ‘But it’s not just my view,’ I said pathetically. ‘Marianne and Beth’s teacher have concerns too. And a parent in the playground came to me and said she thought Derek was over-possessive. Her daughter is a friend of Beth’s, but she’s not allowed to play with her or go to tea.’
‘I hope Derek isn’t becoming the subject of playground gossip,’ Jessie said. ‘Now, is there anything else? I’m running late.’
‘No. I’m sorry.’
‘I’ll be in touch when I have any news. Derek is hoping to come out of hospital soon. That’s one of the reasons I am going to see him – to talk about his discharge.’
Jessie said a quick goodbye and cut the call. I sat on the sofa, staring at the telephone, feeling a complete idiot, which is what I imagined Jessie probably thought of me too. Perhaps even a malicious idiot who was prone to idle gossip. I’d been so convinced that Derek’s relationship with Beth was inappropriate – so too had Marianne and Miss Willow – but now I wasn’t so sure. All the points I’d raised with Jessie had sounded feeble and unfounded, and she’d easily justified them all as normal behaviour. Could all three of us have been wrong? I thought it was possible. Then I realized I’d forgotten to ask Jessie if Beth should telephone her father in the evenings, although given Jessie’s reaction to what I’d said I assumed the answer would be yes, for there was no reason not to telephone Derek; according to Jessie he’d done nothing wrong.
Paula woke a few minutes later and I went upstairs feeling anxious and wretched. I put on a cheerful face as I brought her downstairs and then played with her and read her some stories. But my heart wasn’t in it. I was preoccupied and then I felt guilty for not giving her my full attention. I deeply regretted telephoning Jessie. I should have advised Marianne to telephone her, for I was now convinced she’d have made a better job of explaining her concerns. I wondered if Jessie would telephone Marianne and possibly Miss Willow to substantiate what I’d said, or possibly doubt my abilities as a foster carer. I felt a failure. I’d made a decision and it had been the wrong one.
Beth was out before Adrian at the end of school and the first thing she asked was: ‘Did you speak to my social worker? Can I telephone my daddy?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Goody!’ she cried, and jumped for joy. ‘I love my daddy!’
Adrian came out and I listened to his news on the way home, but my thoughts kept returning to the telephone contact I would have to initiate later. Jessie would have visited Derek by then and told him what I’d said. My stomach knotted and I had little appetite at dinner. Apart from it being very embarrassing to speak to Derek after what Jessie would have told him, I knew he had every right to be angry. I briefly considered writing down the number of the hospital and the ward and letting Beth make the call, but I wasn’t that much of a coward. I tried consoling myself with the reminder that I’d done what I thought was right at the time and had only wanted to protect Beth. If Derek raised the matter, which I was sure he would, all I could do was apologize.
After dinner I gave Paula an early bath and settled her in bed with some toys, as I had done the evening before.
‘Is Beth phoning her daddy again?’ Paula asked.
‘Yes, love. I think she’ll be phoning him every evening while she’s with us.’
‘Can I telephone my daddy?’ Paula asked.
‘He’s at work, love. He’ll telephone if he can.’ I felt for her and hoped John would phone.
Leaving Paula in bed with some toys, I went into my bedroom where Beth was sprawled on the bed, waiting for me, and looking forward to speaking to her daddy. She’d said a few times during the evening that she was hoping her daddy would tell her which day he would be coming home, so she was very excited. My stomach was churning. I sat on the edge of the bed and dialled the hospital and then asked for Ward 3. When I was put through to the ward I asked for Derek, expecting that, as before, he’d be ready and would come to the telephone straight away. But instead of calling Derek to the phone, the nurse who’d answered said to me, ‘Hold the line, please.’ I heard the telephone being set down and then there was a short silence before the nurse came back on the line and said: ‘Derek is asleep.’
I was surprised. ‘Are you sure?’ I asked. ‘It’s seven o’clock and he’s expecting his daughter to phone.’
‘Just a minute,’ the nurse said, and the telephone was set down again. I heard muffled voices in the background and then the telephone was picked up and the same nurse asked: ‘Are you a relative?’
‘No.
