Farnham nodded. ‘We met Melody’s mother in September when she first brought Melody to school, but that was the only time. Melody appears to have had very little schooling or parenting. Why wasn’t she taken into care sooner?’
‘I’m not sure exactly, but they moved around a lot, which means they could have evaded the social services.’
‘Melody will be staying with you now?’ Mrs Farnham asked.
‘Yes, until the final court hearing when the judge will make a decision on where she should live permanently.’
‘We’ll obviously do all we can to help her catch up with her schoolwork. We tested her when she first arrived last September and her results showed she was working at reception level, so about four years behind what she should be.’
‘Oh dear. That is a long way behind.’
‘We’ll test her again, but I doubt she’s improved much because she’s hardly been in school. Have you met her mother?’
‘Not yet. I should this evening at contact.’
‘She’s got a reputation for being very volatile. Other parents have seen her outside the school causing a scene. On one occasion, when she was rushing Melody to school late, she attacked a driver who didn’t immediately stop to let her cross the road. She swore at him and kicked his car. He called the police, but she’d disappeared by the time they arrived. Another time – I think it was in October – she screamed at a parent because her daughter wouldn’t play with Melody.’
‘Does Melody have any friends?’ I asked.
‘Not really. She wasn’t in school often enough to make friends. Also, when she did come she was grubby and had head lice, so the other children didn’t want to play with her. Hopefully that will change now. She looks so much cleaner already.’
‘I gave her a good bath last night and treated her hair.’
‘It shows,’ Mrs Farnham said. ‘There’s a couple of other children in the school I have concerns about who could do with a good wash. And if head lice aren’t treated, they quickly spread through the class.’
A bell suddenly rang outside, signalling the start of school. At the same time a knock sounded on the door. ‘Come in!’ Mrs Farnham called. Melody came in dressed in a new school uniform, followed by a woman I took to be the welfare assistant, Mrs Holby. ‘Don’t you look smart!’ Mrs Farnham exclaimed. Melody smiled proudly.
‘I’ll buy her some school shoes today,’ I said, glancing at the torn plastic trainers, which seemed even more noticeable now.
‘She’ll need some plimsolls for PE too,’ Mrs Farnham said. ‘We don’t stock them here.’
‘This is Mrs Holby, our lovely welfare assistant,’ she said, introducing her to me. ‘It’s time for lessons, so if you would like to go with her to the office, I’ll take Melody to her class.’
‘Thanks again,’ I said, standing. I said goodbye to Melody, told her to have a good day and that I’d meet her in the playground at the end of school. She went with Mrs Farnham while I accompanied Mrs Holby to the office, where I settled the bill for the uniform. She also gave me a school prospectus, which included term dates, and a form for my contact details, which I filled in there. I thanked Mrs Holby again and made my way out of the school. The playground was empty now, with all the children in their classrooms for the start of lessons. Outside the gates a few parents stood chatting in a small group.
Mrs Farnham had said that Melody’s mother, Amanda, had a reputation for being volatile and aggressive. Aware she would know it was highly likely that I had brought Melody to school, I kept a watchful eye out as I made my way to my car. I’d had impromptu meetings before with the parents of children I’d fostered. Sometimes they were friendly and just wanted a glimpse of – or a few words with – their child, but at other times they’d vented their anger at me for having their child taken into care. I didn’t know what Amanda looked like, but I couldn’t see anyone watching or following me and I made it safely to my car. As it happened, it was later that day that Amanda found the opportunity to turn her anger on me.
Chapter Five
I drove straight from Melody’s school into town, where I bought her a set of casual clothes, underwear, tights, socks, pyjamas, some posters for her bedroom and a pair of school shoes. The shoes size was a guesstimate; I knew the size of her trainers and went up one size. I could change them if necessary. If by Saturday none of Melody’s belongings had arrived from home, I’d take her shopping to choose more clothes, including a warm winter coat – she was wearing one from my spares today. It’s preferable for a child in care to have at least some of their clothes from home, as they are comfortingly familiar, but from what her social worker Neave had said it wasn’t likely, so we couldn’t wait for them indefinitely.
When I arrived home there was a message from Jill on my answerphone asking how Melody had been on her first night. I returned her call and updated her, including that Melody was missing her mother, but had slept well, had eaten a good dinner and breakfast and was now in school. Jill said she’d let Neave know and to phone her if there were any problems. I had a late lunch, filled the washing machine, cleared up the kitchen, which I hadn’t had time to do after breakfast, then Blu-Tacked Melody’s posters to her bedroom wall. Downstairs again, I made a cottage pie for dinner and then it was time to collect Melody from school. I placed a note prominently on the side in the kitchen:
Dear Adrian, Lucy and Paula, hope you’ve had a good day. Would someone please put the cottage pie that is in the fridge in the oven at 5 p.m. at 180°C and keep an eye on it? I should be back from contact at 6 p.m. See you later. Love Mum xx.
I had told them at breakfast I was going to contact, but I was pretty certain no one had been awake enough to hear me.
The bag containing Melody’s shoes was ready in the hall to take with me. She would try them on in the car and, if they fitted, wear them for contact so she looked smart. I liked the children I fostered to look well turned out when they saw their parents, as it was a special occasion, just like when we visited my parents. I then remembered the stay-fresh plastic box containing the rice pudding in the fridge. I hesitated. Melody hadn’t mentioned it again and it seemed rather an odd thing to take to contact, but on the other hand she had wanted to give it to her mother, so I took it with me.
I drove to the school and parked in the same side road I had that morning and then waited in the playground with the other parents and carers for school to end. It was a cold, bright day with the low, wintry sun giving little warmth, but it was a pleasant change from the previous days of overcast grey skies. The bell rang from inside the building, signalling the end of school, and a few minutes later the classes began to file out one at a time, led by their teacher. I looked at the sea of faces – I hadn’t met Melody’s teacher yet so didn’t know who I was looking for. Melody must have spotted me, because suddenly through the milling crowd of children she appeared, coming towards me with her teacher.
‘Hello, I’m Miss Langford, Melody’s class teacher,’ she said with a warm smile.
‘Cathy Glass, Melody’s foster carer.’
‘The Deputy said
