Daddy’s Little Princess. Cathy Glass
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be grateful if you would keep what I’m going to say to yourself,’ Miss Willow continued, her expression now serious.
‘Yes, of course.’ I met her gaze.
‘The deputy head is aware I’ve asked to see you. We’ve been worried about Beth for some time. Not academically – she’s doing very well with her work – but with regards to her home life.’ Miss Willow paused again. ‘To put it bluntly, we have concerns that Beth’s relationship with her father is far too insular for a girl her age. It’s claustrophobic, and stifling her social development. Beth’s not allowed to attend school outings – there is always an excuse – and I know from the other children she’s not allowed to go to birthday parties or play with friends outside of school. Beth talks a lot about her father. Her whole life seems to revolve around him, and his around her. There was a woman in Derek’s life, but they parted some months ago. The situation deteriorated after that. Beth’s father became ill and Beth became his carer. I was so worried by some of the things Beth was telling me that I spoke to the deputy head, and she alerted the social services. Has Beth said anything to you about …’ Miss Willow paused, searching for the right words ‘… anything that you think is inappropriate?’
I held her gaze. ‘Beth’s only been with me a short while,’ I said. ‘She talks about her father a lot, and she’s brought lots of photographs with her, but she hasn’t really said anything inappropriate.’
Miss Willow gave a small half-nod. ‘I understand. If you do think of anything, would you let her social worker know, please?’
‘Yes, of course,’ I said, puzzled and concerned. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was being asked and had the feeling I wasn’t being told the full story; perhaps confidentiality stopped Miss Willow from saying more.
‘Hopefully the situation will improve now Derek is receiving medical help,’ Miss Willow added.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Miss Willow added. ‘Beth’s a good kid. And I know she’ll be very well looked after staying with you.’
‘Thank you.’
I helped Paula down from her chair and folded her drawing to take with us. I said goodbye and we left the classroom. Holding Paula’s hand we counted down the steps but I was preoccupied and concerned by what Miss Willow had said. ‘Inappropriate’ was the word she’d used. Had Beth said anything inappropriate? Not really, although I remembered I’d felt uncomfortable with the idea of her sleeping snuggled up in my bed as she did with her father. Was that because it was inappropriate? I didn’t know. What Miss Willow had said had taken me by surprise; I’d been expecting a chat about Beth’s progress at school. I realized she must have spoken to Jessie about her concerns, although Jessie hadn’t mentioned them to me.
When we arrived home I told Beth that Jessie had telephoned the hospital and had spoken to a nurse who had said that her daddy had slept well. I also told Beth that she could telephone her father over the weekend. She was delighted. When she went into her bedroom she was pleased with the way I’d displayed her photographs, although she spent a few minutes rearranging them. Beth talked about her daddy over dinner, but with John due home the following evening for the weekend Adrian didn’t appear to feel it so much. ‘You’ll meet my daddy tomorrow,’ he said happily to Beth.
‘You’ll meet my daddy tomorrow,’ Paula repeated.
That night, when I went into Beth’s room to say goodnight, she said, ‘I don’t need Mr Sleep Bear any more. I’ve got my daddy with me.’
I was puzzled for a moment until Beth lifted the duvet to reveal the largest of the framed photographs nestled in bed beside her.
I smiled. ‘I see,’ I said. ‘But the frame is very hard. It might hurt you if you lie on it in the night.’ I was also concerned that the glass could break and cut her if she rolled over onto it in her sleep.
‘I’ll put him under my pillow,’ Beth said. ‘That’s what I did when my daddy was in hospital before.’
‘Oh, when was that?’ I asked. I wasn’t aware Derek had been in hospital before.
‘About a year ago, I think,’ Beth said, kissing the photograph and then sliding it under her pillow. ‘He had to have an operation on his tummy. It was called ernie. When he came home he wasn’t allowed to lift anything heavy.’
‘That would be a hernia,’ I said. ‘So who looked after you while your daddy was in hospital?’
‘Marianne,’ she said, pulling a face. ‘She stays at our flat sometimes. She’s horrible. I hate her.’ It was the first time I’d seen Beth scowl. ‘She loved my daddy, but he didn’t love her. He sent her away. It’s much, much better with just the two of us. I love my daddy and he loves me.’
‘I know, love.’
The following evening, Friday, John returned home for the weekend. As soon as Adrian and Paula heard his key in the front door they rushed down the hall with shouts of ‘Daddy! Daddy’s home!’
I stayed in the living room where I was listening to Beth read as John let himself in and then hugged and kissed Adrian and Paula. ‘We’re in here!’ I called from the living room.
John came into the living room, an arm around Adrian and Paula, and I kissed him and introduced Beth. John knew that Beth was staying; I’d told him when he’d telephoned the evening before. John was as committed to fostering as I was, but now he was working away he could only help at weekends.
‘Hi, Beth,’ he said. ‘How are you settling in?’
‘My daddy’s ill in hospital,’ Beth said. ‘I miss him.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ John said. ‘But the doctors will make him better.’
John sat on the sofa with Adrian beside him and Paula on his lap, making a fuss of the children and generally catching up on their news. Beth was sitting beside me and I saw her expression change and grow gloomy. I could guess why. Now that John was home, the children’s situation was reversed: Adrian and Paula had their daddy with them, which highlighted that Beth’s father was absent. I would try to make it up to her by giving her extra attention.
John ate his dinner with Adrian and Paula seated at the table watching him, while I read Beth a story in the living room. Once John had eaten we played a game together and then I suggested to Beth that she might like to come and help me put Paula to bed. I thought it would give her something to focus on and it would also be nice for Adrian to have some one-to-one time with his father. But Beth didn’t want to come. She said she wanted to stay in the living room, so I left her with John and Adrian. Twenty minutes or so later when I came down to tell John that Paula was in bed and ready for a goodnight kiss, Beth was on the sofa snuggled into John’s side. Adrian, sitting upright, was on the other side of him. Both children were gazing at the book John had open on his lap and was reading from. I told John that Paula was ready for her goodnight kiss and Beth said to John: ‘Do you have to go?’ Taking hold of his arm she snuggled closer into his side.
John hesitated.
‘Yes, he does,’ I said.
‘I won’t be long,’ John said, and gently moved Beth away.
I’d discovered early on in fostering that it was very important (but not always easy) to get the balance right between the attention we gave our own children and those we fostered, to ensure that everyone felt loved, cherished and special.
That night, as I tucked Beth into bed, she asked if John could give her a goodnight kiss, as he had with Paula. ‘Yes, of course,’ I said without hesitation. I called to John, who was in Adrian’s room.
John came into Beth’s bedroom, said goodnight and gave her a kiss on her forehead.
‘Thank you,’ she said sweetly.
‘You’re welcome,’ John said, and I could