Hidden Page 14

  I keyed in the number and it rang for some time, then the call went through to her voicemail. I glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. It was exactly six o’clock. ‘That’s strange, there’s no answer.’

  ‘Perhaps she can’t hear it ringing?’ Tayo suggested.

  I tried again and the same thing happened. I looked down at Tayo. ‘I’ll try one more time then if she still doesn’t answer, you can leave a message on her voicemail. OK?’

  He nodded but looked quite dejected.

  I pressed redial, it rang, and she answered immediately. ‘Who is it?’ she demanded. There was a lot of noise in the background that could have been the sound of a busy pub.

  ‘Minty, it’s Cathy, Tayo’s carer.’

  ‘Hello, Cathy,’ she shouted over the noise. ‘Hang on and I’ll go in the toilets.’

  I waited as doors banged and the noise subsided. ‘All right now?’ I asked when she came back on.

  ‘I’m at work. Is Tayo there?’ she said tersely.

  ‘He is.’ I passed the phone to him.

  ‘Hello, Mum,’ he said, his voice immediately dropping to a monotone, where it stayed for the rest of the call. He didn’t say anything, but only mumbled the odd no and yes in answer to her questions.

  I don’t usually take notes during phone contact unless there are real concerns and I’m asked to put the receiver on speakerphone. I listen and make notes afterwards of anything the social worker should know. I really don’t like monitoring phone contact and feel quite uncomfortable at this eavesdropping, even though it is necessary and I had been instructed to do it. Minty was still talking ten to the dozen but Tayo had the phone pressed close to his ear and I couldn’t hear much of what she was saying. Eventually, after his third ‘nothing’ said in the same flat and emotionless voice, I whispered, ‘Tell her about football.’

  ‘I went to football this morning,’ he said, about as excited as a wet lettuce.

  I glanced at him. I knew what he was doing – I’d seen children do it before. He wasn’t going to admit to having had a good time because he didn’t want his mum to be let off so easily. He wanted to punish her by making her think he was unhappy and thereby twisting her conscience and increasing her feelings of guilt. I had to hand it to Tayo – with his intelligence and skills at manipulation, he was doing an excellent job. Five minutes later, after he’d grunted another couple of ‘nothings’ and a few ‘don’t knows’, he handed the phone to me and said, ‘She wants to talk to you.’

  I took the handset and before it was to my ear, Minty had started. Once started, she didn’t stop, lambasting me for not looking after her son, telling me how she was going to report me to Sandra, and threatening that I’d better watch out because she had friends. I tried interrupting but it was hopeless, I couldn’t get a word in. The deluge could have been exacerbated by drink, but after another five minutes of condemnation and what she planned to do about it, I cut her off.

  ‘Well, you certainly know how to wind your mother up,’ I said to Tayo, not best pleased. ‘She’s in a right state.’

  ‘She’s a waster,’ he said fervently. ‘She’s not interested in what I’m doing. She’s pissed.’

  I couldn’t deny that she’d sounded drunk. Her words had been slurred and most of what she’d said was incoherent nonsense. I doubted she got that way at work, whatever her ‘work’ was.

  ‘All right, but you needn’t have made the situation worse. Next time you can answer her questions properly and tell your mum some of the things you have been doing, and reassure her you’re OK. She is your mother after all.’

  ‘My bad luck, isn’t it,’ he answered grumpily.

  ‘Tayo,’ I said firmly, ‘if you don’t want telephone contact I can tell Sandra and she will stop it. No one will force you to speak to your mother on the phone. But if we are phoning her, then you can try your hardest not to upset her. You could try answering her questions and not sounding so depressed. Look at you, you’re fine now.’

  He shrugged. ‘Can I watch some television now?’

  ‘Yes – but remember what I’ve said.’

  ‘Will do!’ He went off, happy as Larry, while I settled down to write yet more notes in anticipation of the phone call I was sure Sandra would make on Monday, after Minty had complained.

  * * *

  On Sunday Lucy, Paula, Tayo and I went to a car boot sale. Adrian and Paula were going to see their father but he’d unfortunately had to cancel at the last minute. Adrian wasn’t interested in shopping of any kind so we left him in bed.

  There was a huge car boot sale, with over a hundred stalls, held on the site of an old airfield, about a mile from where I lived. I went about three times a year. Lucy, Paula and I liked to rummage around and we usually came away with a bargain each, though not necessarily something we needed. I had suggested going today because at the back of my mind was the thought that I might be able to pick up some things for Tayo and his room. Apart from the few models I’d put out, there was nothing in his bedroom other than the clothes in his wardrobe. I wanted to get him some ‘clutter’ – the personal belongings that by the age of ten children have normally acquired to display in their bedrooms. Tayo had arrived with nothing and there didn’t seem much chance of retrieving any of his possessions from the numerous places where he’d stayed. He’d had his birthday, and Christmas had gone, so there wouldn’t be another opportunity for some time to shower him with presents and help fill the void. Adrian, Lucy and Paula’s bedrooms, like most teenagers’, were overflowing with their personal possessions, so much so that every so often I insisted they cleared out, and we bagged up and put in the loft what they had outgrown or weren’t using for the time being. The loft contained numerous bags of soft toys, pre-school games and toys, none of which I was allowed to give away for sentimental reasons. Tayo’s shelves and cupboards by contrast were completely bare, and while I couldn’t afford to replace ten years of lost possessions new, I hoped to go some way with good second-hand.

  Tayo had never been to a car boot sale before, which surprised me as they would have been a good source of inexpensive items for Minty’s limited budget. From the moment we entered, he was enthralled. We walked between the rows of tables, stalls, open car boots and traders’ vans, looking at what was on offer.

  It was a cold, but bright and dry day, and the market was very busy. I’d explained to Tayo that if we got separated he should go to the hotdog stand by the entrance and wait for me to find him. I hadn’t actually told him the main reason for us coming, not wanting to disappoint him if there was nothing suitable to buy, but I couldn’t have chosen a better day to visit, for many people were using the market to sell unwanted Christmas presents, and the commercial traders were having a New Year sale.

  Tayo spotted the latest Harry Potter book, never opened, together with a boxed set of miniature toy soldiers. There were over a hundred pieces, including rifles, tanks, camouflage nets and tiny waters bottles in survival packs, which I thought would block up the Hoover a treat.

  ‘Would you like them?’ I asked.

  He looked at me with big doleful eyes. ‘Yes, but I don’t have any money. I’ve lost my pocket money for this week.’

  ‘I know, but I’ll treat you. You weren’t here for Christmas so we’ll call it a late Christmas present. All right?’

  To say he was excited was an understatement. He watched me pay the woman the nine pounds she was asking for the two items, then clutched the box and book tightly to his chest, as though he thought they could be spirited away like all his other things. Further along, in the next aisle, he stopped and looked at a twenty-piece boxed car set, similar to the old Matchbox cars. It was six pounds, so again, I asked him if he’d like it and then bought it. Lucy and Paula had stopped at a stall selling silver jewellery – hundreds of earrings, necklaces and bracelets. I wasn’t sure they needed any more jewellery but gave them five pounds each to treat themselves and continued along the aisle with Tayo. Presently he saw a set of model
dinosaurs – a dozen pieces, each four inches high and painted very realistically in dark green and brown.

  ‘Wow!’ Tayo breathed as he looked at them. It was four pounds for the set, so I bought that too and carried it, as his arms were full.

  ‘Tayo,’ I said, ‘I’ve spent nineteen pounds so far. So we’ll say another eleven pounds to spend, which will make it up to thirty, and we’ll call it a day.’

  Quarter of an hour later, with the girls in possession of yet another pair of earrings each, Tayo spotted a six-piece Thunderbird model set for five pounds.

  ‘Good heavens!’ I said. ‘It’s not back in fashion, is it? I used to watch Thunderbirds on television when I was a child.’

  The girls looked at me, unable to imagine me as a child, while Tayo and I went in for a closer look. I picked up the red rocket, the drop-down pod, and then the pink FAB 1 car. So nostalgic was the recollection that if Tayo hadn’t wanted it I’d have bought it anyway. But he did.

  ‘Six pounds left,’ I said to Tayo, who was now fully into the swing of this buying. We continued to wander up and down the aisles for another twenty minutes and I knew Tayo wanted to spin out and make the most of his last purchase. It was twelve-thirty and I was starting to get hungry; we’d been here for the best part of two hours. The sun had gone and the temperature was starting to drop. ‘You don’t have to spend the six pounds,’ I said. ‘It was just the limit I set on it.’

  This intensified his search, and two minutes later he’d found a wooden chess set. It wasn’t new, in fact it had been quite well used, but when I examined the pieces I could see they were good quality and had stood the test of time.

  ‘Are you sure you want a chess set?’ I asked. ‘We have one at home you can use any time.’ I wondered if it was more a matter of spending the six pounds than the actual acquisition.

  ‘Yes, I’ve always wanted one of my own,’ Tayo said imploringly.

  ‘OK, let’s see how much it is.’ I asked the owner and he said nine pounds, which I thought was enough given that they’d obviously had good use from it.

  ‘It’s hand-carved mahogany,’ the man added as I admired the pieces.

  ‘Can I have a look at the board please?’ I asked.

  The owner lifted it out of the box, and although obviously used, it wasn’t split or torn and was generally in good condition.

  ‘Cathy,’ Tayo said, ‘I know it’s three pounds more than you said, and I haven’t got my pocket money this week. But how about if you keep next week’s as well? Then we can afford to buy it.’

  That sealed it – if he wanted it that much, of course he could have it, without the deduction of the following week’s pocket money.

  I paid and we returned to the car, with Tayo’s possessions now being carried by all four of us. I stored them in the boot, apart from the Harry Potter book, which Tayo wanted to start reading on the journey back.

  Once home I made us a hot chocolate and then prepared dinner while Tayo set about organizing all the newly acquired possessions in his room. He called me up an hour later to admire the display, and as I entered I was pleased to see his shelves were now ‘cluttered’ like everyone else’s. The miniature soldiers were doing battle on the top two shelves, all one hundred of them, while the twelve dinosaurs roamed on the shelf beneath. The Thunderbirds were exploring the moon landscape on the fourth shelf, while the Matchbox cars raced a circuit at the bottom. The book was positioned spine outward on the desk, next to the chess set, which remained in the box.

  ‘I won’t take all the chess pieces out,’ Tayo said. ‘I’d like to play with it downstairs later.’

  ‘Good idea.’ I admired the arrangements on the shelves. ‘When you’ve read that book, we can get you some more. Second-hand books are very cheap compared to the price of new ones. I often buy mine from the Oxfam shop.’

  Tayo frowned. ‘My mum won’t go in a charity shop. She says it’s for poor people, and she wouldn’t be seen dead in one.’

  I marvelled at Minty’s perverse snobbery. It was inverted logic to avoid a cheap shop when she had been unable to provide the basics of life for her son.

  ‘I don’t consider myself poor,’ I said, ‘and in any case, poverty is nothing to be ashamed of. But I do like a bargain as much as the next person, because it means there’s more money for other things.’

  ‘Yes. I agree,’ he said, and set about rearranging his tiny army on the top shelf.

  ‘I was thinking of meeting Peter tonight,’ I said later to Lucy and Paula. ‘Can you babysit Tayo please? I won’t be going out till after eight, so he’ll be in bed.’

  ‘No problem,’ Lucy said. ‘It must be strange having a boyfriend at your age.’ Paula smiled in collusion.

  ‘Thank you for the vote of confidence, ladies,’ I said tartly. ‘And he’s not a boyfriend, more a companion, or good friend.’

  They raised their eyebrows and giggled, and I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘And don’t forget Tayo’s light goes out at eight-thirty. It’s a school night tonight. I won’t be back late.’

  Going out in the evening was a fairly new thing for me. When the children were younger and I was newly divorced, I didn’t attempt much of a social life outside the family beyond the odd lunch or coffee date with friends. To be honest, I didn’t have the stamina after a busy day looking after the children, running the home and working part-time, or much enthusiasm for the whole idea. Now the family was older, though, and I’d completely recovered from the divorce, I tried to go out in the evening once a week. Lately, it had been to see Peter, a widower five years my senior with two grown-up children. Six months before I’d stopped for petrol and had been struggling to remove the petrol cap from the tank of my car when the man waiting in the car behind offered to help.

  ‘The key’s jammed,’ I explained, feeling somewhat hot and flustered. I was proud of my ability to cope and didn’t enjoy looking like a helpless woman.

  He came over to lend a hand and the petrol cap was off in seconds. ‘Aren’t you Adrian Glass’s mother?’ he asked as he handed back my keys.

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘I thought I recognized you.’

  His son had been in Adrian’s year at school and he remembered me from parents’ evenings, sports days and prize givings. I thanked him for his help and we went our separate ways, only to bump into each other a week later in the supermarket. This time we went for a coffee and ending up sitting for an hour in the supermarket café, chatting away while my frozen food gently thawed out. I had enjoyed it hugely, and had felt like a teenager again when he asked me for my telephone number as we said goodbye.

  The next day Peter called and we arranged a dinner date. His kindness and warmth appealed to me, and it was delightful to know that someone was obviously interested in me and keen for my company. Since then, we’d been seeing each other regularly, though both of us were happy to keep things moving very slowly. I was the first woman Peter had been out with since his wife’s death three years before, and he was the first man I’d dated since my divorce, which was longer ago than I cared to admit. The demands on my time suited us both – it kept the pressure off and allowed us to take our time as we got to know each other. Nevertheless, I enjoyed his company and looked forward to our evenings together.

  I made a light supper of quiche and salad just before seven, then explained to Tayo that I would be going out in the evening once he was settled in bed. It was best to prepare him, as he’d obviously ask where I was when Lucy went to turn his light off and I didn’t want him to think I’d sneaked out and left him.

  ‘What time will you be back?’ Tayo asked, a touch of anxiety in his voice.

  ‘Not late. About ten-thirty. You’ll be sound asleep by then. Lucy and Paula will say goodnight tonight, and they’ll be here if you need anything at all.’

  He seemed happy with this but when I went in to say goodnight to him as he sat up in bed reading his Harry Potter book, he frowned and said, ‘Do you have to go out?’

&n
bsp; ‘No, I don’t have to. But I like to, and it’s only once a week.’

  ‘I don’t want you to go,’ he said in a small voice.

  ‘Why not, love? I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’

  ‘I don’t like being left on my own.’ His brow furrowed deeper.

  ‘You won’t be alone. Paula and Lucy are here, and Adrian’s still downstairs. They’ll look after you and you’re going to sleep in twenty minutes anyway.’

  He put down his book and appealed to me with his big, sad eyes. ‘Please don’t go,’ he begged. ‘I’m worried you won’t come back. My mum used to go out and not come back.’

  ‘I know, Tayo, but this is different. I never spend the night away, and Lucy, Paula and Adrian are here.’ I could see he wasn’t convinced, and while I was loath to cancel my arrangements, I recognized he’d been with me for barely a week and was still learning to trust me. He was feeling some of the fear and anxiety that must have overwhelmed him during the last five years, when he’d seen his mother disappearing off in a taxi and not known if she was ever coming back.

  I gave him a hug. ‘Listen, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll wait until you’re asleep before I go, then when you wake up I’ll be in the house again and you won’t know anything about it. How about that?’

  He thought for a moment and decided this was a good second option, put the book on the table and snuggled down. I gave him the usual kiss on his forehead, and we swapped our usual refrain:

  ‘Goodnight. Sleep tight.’

  ‘And don’t let the bed bugs bite.’ He managed a smile.

  I came out of his room and then phoned Peter to rearrange our meeting time. I sat downstairs with the girls until quarter to nine, then checked on Tayo and found him sound asleep.

  ‘I’m off, girls!’ I called as I put my coat on in the hall. ‘Now, don’t forget, call me on my mobile if there’s any problem at all …’