at home by herself.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because she’s too young,’ I said. ‘She’s only seven.’
‘I’m two,’ Paula said proudly.
‘Yes, that’s right, and in a few months you’ll be three.’
I made the coffee, arranged some biscuits on a plate and set them on a tray. Paula followed me into the living room where I placed the tray on the coffee table within reach of Jessie.
‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully, reaching for the mug of coffee and a couple of biscuits. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had something to eat or drink. Today has disappeared.’
Jessie wasn’t the first social worker who’d arrived having not had time to eat or drink. ‘Shall I make you something to eat?’ I asked.
‘No, thank you. I’ll settle Beth and then I need to get home. I have two children of my own, although you wouldn’t think so for the little I see of them.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want a drink?’ I asked Beth.
She shook her head.
‘A biscuit?’ I asked, offering her the plate.
She shook her head again.
‘She’ll need something to eat before bed,’ Jessie said. ‘She had her school dinner but has only had a drink since then.’
‘You can tell me what you’d like later,’ I said to Beth with a smile.
But she pressed the tissue to her eyes and looked close to tears. I wasn’t surprised. I couldn’t begin to imagine how upsetting or unsettling it must be for a child to suddenly have to leave their home and all that is familiar and live with strangers.
Beth gave a sniff and then suddenly blurted: ‘It’s my fault my daddy’s ill. It’s because I forgot to give him his tablets.’ A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. Adrian and Paula looked at Beth, very worried.
‘No, that’s not the reason,’ Jessie said kindly, slipping her arm around Beth’s shoulders. ‘I explained to you on the way here that sometimes tablets are not enough to make a person better and they have to go into hospital. Your daddy was taking the tablets. It’s not your fault, Beth.’
Jessie cuddled Beth for a few minutes while Paula and Adrian, looking very concerned, sat close to each other on the floor beside the building bricks. I threw them a reassuring smile.
‘I’m wondering if we could go somewhere private to talk?’ Jessie asked me when Beth had stopped crying and had dried her eyes.
‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘We can go in the front room.’
‘Beth, you stay here with Adrian and Paula while I talk to Cathy,’ Jessie said. ‘Perhaps Adrian will show you his book. It looks good to me.’
Jessie stood and Adrian took his book and went and sat in the place Jessie had vacated. Paula immediately went too, sitting on the other side of him.
‘Thanks,’ I said to them as we left the room.
I showed Jessie into the front room and pushed the door to so we couldn’t be overheard.
‘I didn’t want to discuss Beth’s father in front of her,’ Jessie said, drawing out a chair and sitting down. I sat opposite her. ‘She’s finding it difficult enough already.’
I nodded.
‘Beth has been brought up by her father, Derek, since she was little,’ Jessie said. ‘I think she was about two or three when her mother disappeared. Beth never sees her. Derek has done a good job of bringing up Beth alone, but they came to the notice of the social services a few months ago. Derek went to his doctors saying he couldn’t cope and was depressed. He was prescribed medication, which seemed to work for a while, but today he reached crisis point. I don’t know why. He took Beth to school and then went straight to casualty at the hospital. He told the doctors he couldn’t take any more and was thinking of committing suicide.’
‘Oh dear. The poor man,’ I said.
‘Yes. They’ve admitted him to the psychiatric wing of St Mary’s Hospital, but I’m hoping it won’t be for long. Once his condition has been stabilized he should be able to go home with medication. If he’s in for longer than a week, Beth will need to visit him. They’re very close.’
‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘Beth’s obviously going to miss him a lot. And there isn’t a relative who can look after her?’ Which is usually considered the next best option if a parent can’t look after their child.
‘Not that we’re aware of,’ Jessie said. ‘Derek has had nothing to do with his ex-wife’s family since she left four years ago. His own mother died last year and his father is old and frail and in a care home. Derek is nearly fifty. He had Beth late in life.’
‘I see.’
‘That’s all the information I can give you really,’ Jessie said, winding up. ‘You have my contact details, so telephone if there is a problem. Now, I need to get going. I’ll say goodbye to Beth and leave you to it. I’m sure Beth will feel a bit brighter in the morning after a good night’s sleep.’
Jessie hadn’t given me much background information, but I assumed I had what I needed to look after Beth and that the rest was confidential.
We returned to the living room where the children were sitting in a row on the sofa looking at the pictures in Adrian’s book as he turned the pages.
‘I’m going now,’ Jessie said to Beth. ‘If you need anything, ask Cathy. As soon as I have news about your daddy I’ll phone. But try not to worry. The doctors are looking after him and I’m sure he’ll be better soon.’
‘When can I see my daddy?’ Beth asked anxiously.
‘As soon as he’s a little better,’ Jessie said. ‘I’ll be in contact with the hospital tomorrow and I’ll telephone Cathy.’
I could see from Beth’s face that this hadn’t reassured her. Indeed, she looked close to tears again.
‘Goodbye,’ Jessie said. ‘Try not to worry.’
‘I’ll see Jessie out and then I’ll get you something to eat.’ I smiled at Beth.
Beth looked back, lost and afraid.
I went with Jessie down the hall and it was only as she began putting on her coat that I realized I didn’t know which school Beth went to.
‘Beth’s school?’ I asked. ‘I assume she’s still going to school while her father is in hospital?’
‘Yes, sorry, I should have said. It’s Orchard Primary School, about a five-minute drive away.’
‘Oh,’ I said, surprised. ‘That’s the same school Adrian goes to. I thought Beth looked slightly familiar. I’ve probably seen her going in or coming out of school. She’ll be in
