false teeth.’
‘Oh no!’
‘They were missing for three days and they wouldn’t tell where they were. Eventually I spotted them in the goldfish bowl among the weeds.’
I laughed as Peggy was doing.
‘I’ll ask Stevie if he knows what they have been up to,’ I said.
‘Thank you. See you later then, and good luck with the meeting.’
I was still smiling at the image of Fred’s false teeth in the goldfish bowl as I went upstairs to find Stevie. He was just on his way out of his room. I told him about the appointment with Carolyn at one o’clock and that I’d spoken to his gran and would take him home after the meeting for some more clothes. Then I said, ‘Your gran has asked me to find out if you know what Kiri and Liam have been up to?’
‘What do you mean?’ Stevie asked, suddenly growing serious.
‘Don’t look so worried. She thinks they might have played another joke like they did with your grandpa’s false teeth. They keep telling her they have a secret and you’ve told them not to tell.’
‘Is that all they said?’ he asked, really concerned.
‘Yes, as far as I know.’ I looked at him. ‘Stevie, is there something your grandparents need to know? If so, I think you should tell me now.’
There was a moment’s hesitation before he said, ‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’ He nodded, and I was almost certain he was lying – a sixth sense from years of raising children.
Chapter Six
The morning was free, so I suggested to Stevie we went into town shopping and had some lunch out. I had to get a few things and I didn’t want to leave him alone in the house just yet. Also, I find that a trip out, whether it is shopping or visiting a place of interest, is a good way of bonding with a young person. Stevie liked the idea of shopping and I gave him his clothing allowance for the month, credit for his phone and his pocket money. I also asked him not to wear make-up, as we would go straight to the meeting with his mentor, Carolyn, at school once we’d finished shopping. He accepted my wishes about make-up as easily as he had accepted Lucy’s. I thought now as I had then that what he needed was guidance on matters associated with gender identity, rather than someone ignoring or dismissing them – as Fred was doing.
I parked in the multi-storey car park in the shopping centre and went with Stevie to the stores he liked. Once we had his clothes from home I would have a better idea of what he needed and could advise him on what to buy, otherwise teenagers often end up with a wardrobe full of jeans and no socks or winter coat. But for now I let him spend his money as he wished, and within half an hour he’d spent most of his clothing allowance on a pair of light grey jeans he said he’d been wanting for ages. They were tasteful and fitted him well. Most clothes would. Tall and slender, he had a model’s physique and I saw young people – male and female – glance at him admiringly as they passed.
While we shopped we talked, and I learnt that his gran used to buy his clothes – what she and Fred thought he should wear – but it had obviously caused arguments, so for the last year he’d been buying what he wanted, and then the arguments had taken place when he’d worn the clothes and they’d seen them for the first time. He also told me he had been given clothes for Christmas and birthday presents, but he’d chosen them. He liked his clothes and he liked to shop. I learnt that he had two good friends at school, a lad of the same age who thought he might be gay, and a girl in his class whom he said was just a friend but was kind and understanding. Most of the other lads in his class had little to do with him, he said, and some teased and bullied him. I reassured him that we’d address that when we saw Carolyn later, and I suggested he might like to invite his friends home for dinner one time. He’d said he’d think about it. He wasn’t sure he’d tell them he was in care, which is true for many children and young people. They prefer to say the person waiting for them in the playground is a friend of their mother’s or an aunty, rather than admit it’s their foster carer. Although of course at Stevie’s age he wouldn’t even have to say that, as I wouldn’t be in the playground at the start and end of school as I was with younger children.
Stevie only checked his phone a couple of times while we were shopping, but once we sat down with our lunch, chosen from a hot buffet, he suddenly cried, ‘Shit!’ And pulled his phone from his pocket as if his life depended on it.
‘Is everything all right?’ I asked him a few moments later, as, food untouched, he was still staring at the screen.
He nodded absently.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’ But I wasn’t convinced, and it crossed my mind that perhaps he was being bullied online too. There was a time when bullying stopped at the school gates, but now it can follow the victim home through text messages, social networking websites, photos and video clips. It’s vicious, insidious, relentless and has in extreme cases caused a young person to commit suicide. Also, I remembered Verity had mentioned that Stevie might be in contact with his mother online and I wondered if this was causing a problem.
‘Are you on Facebook?’ I asked him casually as he finally picked up a chip and began eating.
‘Yes.’
‘So am I. I could send you a friendship request.’ If he accepted it then I should be able to see quite a lot of his online activity on that website and who he was in contact with. It’s for this reason it’s a good idea for parents and foster carers to have social networking accounts; it allows them to keep an eye on their young person as well as keeping them up to speed with technology. A friend of mine only discovered that her daughter had traced her father (my friend’s long-time ex) through social media. She was then able to broach the subject with her daughter and reassure her that she didn’t mind. Adrian, Lucy and Paula had Facebook accounts, although only Lucy used hers regularly.
Stevie hadn’t responded to my suggestion, but I’d send the friendship request anyway. He could accept or decline it, it was his choice.
‘Do you chat to your parents at all online?’ I asked. Many young people do without their carer’s or guardian’s knowledge.
‘Sometimes Mum, when she’s not in prison. They don’t have the internet in prison.’
So I guessed that wasn’t the reason he was often anxiously checking his phone.
‘The kids at school who bully you, do they target you online? Or message you at all?’ I asked outright. It was no good hedging the matter and then regretting it later.
‘No. They haven’t got my phone number,’ he said. ‘Only my friends have.’
‘Good.’
It was the school’s lunch break when Stevie and I arrived and there were students milling around outside, some standing in small groups, others sitting on benches, coats on and huddled over phones as they ate from lunch boxes and packets of crisps.
‘What’s
