Hidden Page 5

  Roberta de la Haye sat behind her desk and lifted a pen. ‘Let me write down your address and phone numbers first.’

  I told her, adding that it was confidential at present, and Tayo’s mother wasn’t to be told.

  ‘Good,’ she said, and I guessed her dealings with his mum hadn’t been too positive.

  ‘I don’t have any background information at all,’ I said. ‘Can you tell me what you know, and why you raised the concerns?’

  ‘Certainly, although Tayo only started here in September and we don’t know where he was before that. Mum said she couldn’t remember the name of the school. She couldn’t remember their previous address, GP, or even her own telephone number. There doesn’t appear to be a father on the scene.’

  ‘No, but he did mention a gran in Nigeria to me.’

  Roberta raised her eyebrows. ‘I haven’t heard that before. Mum brought him here on the first day and as far as we know hasn’t done so since. She’s been in the playground to collect him a few times at three-fifteen, but more often he goes home, wherever that is, alone, or with someone else. His mother seems to search out and latch on to good families and then she leaves Tayo with them, sometimes for one night, other times for days on end. Tayo has no way of contacting her, and says he doesn’t know where she is. When she can’t find another family to take him, they go to Bed and Breakfast – but she can’t pay, so the two of them have to do a runner in the early hours. We learnt this from the families he’s stayed with. He told their children. My hunch is that now he’s in care, she’ll disappear completely.’

  ‘Really?’ I asked, surprised. In my experience, even mothers who appear very neglectful don’t give up their children without a fight.

  She nodded. ‘He seems to be just a burden to her.’

  ‘While I was driving here Tayo pointed out a number of places where he’d stayed. I thought it was too many to be true but it makes sense now from what you’ve said.’

  ‘The poor boy has been all over the place. People are kind and feel sorry for him. One family had him for nearly a week in November with no word from his mother. Then one morning she turned up drunk on their doorstep at two a.m. She was very aggressive and demanded Tayo back. He went with her, but reluctantly. They told us, and we alerted the Social Services again. It’s a clear case of neglect, I’m afraid. Tayo has been in the same clothes since he started school. The families he’s stayed with have washed them but when he’s in Bed and Breakfast we often find him in the toilets here trying to sponge the stains off his sweatshirt. To be honest, I think it was a relief for him yesterday when the social worker arrived – although we did have a job finding Tayo.’

  ‘Yes, what was all that about?’

  ‘I’m not sure. We searched high and low and couldn’t find him. We had looked in the library, but he wasn’t there to begin with. Tayo said he was in the toilets.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s a mystery. But it doesn’t really matter now.’

  ‘I suppose not.’ I paused. ‘If I’m frank, Tayo is a bit of a puzzle. He’s not like the children who usually come into care. At some point he must have had some good parenting from someone. And his English is unusually good, isn’t it? Some of the children born and brought up in this country can’t speak as well as he does.’

  ‘I know, but it wasn’t from his mum. We haven’t seen that much of her, but we’ve seen enough to know she’s got a big drink problem, and possibly a drug one too. She calls herself a dancer, but I suspect that’s a euphemism for something else. She’s not on benefit but she’s getting money from somewhere and I don’t think it’s cleaning. That’s all the information we have, really. I take it you don’t know any more?’

  ‘Only that Tayo said he thought he’d been in this country for five years but he isn’t saying any more at present. Despite everything, he’s likely to be quite protective of Mum. Children often are when they’re taken into care.’

  Roberta nodded. ‘I know. All that loyalty and love, after everything they go through. It’s heartbreaking.’

  As I drove home, I wondered if Roberta de la Haye had been right when she’d said Tayo’s mother would disappear. I hoped not. If she vanished, there would be no hope of Tayo going back to live with her, or even of any kind of contact, and I knew that a complete rejection would be very hard for him to come to terms with. In my experience, some contact with a natural parent is usually better than none.

  When I got home, Adrian was up and about.

  ‘A social worker phoned, about Tayo,’ he mumbled, still half asleep. ‘Here’s the extension number.’

  I took the piece of paper he held out to me. The social worker’s early call was a promising sign of efficiency; after all, it wasn’t ten o’clock yet. ‘No name?’

  ‘Didn’t say.’

  ‘Male or female?’

  ‘Female.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Can you leave the answer phone on next time?’ Lucy added as she came down the stairs rubbing her eyes. ‘The phone woke me up.’

  ‘You’ll have to get back into the morning routine before long,’ I called as they both disappeared back upstairs to bed.

  I left the bags of Tayo’s old clothes in the hall and went to the lounge to call the number Adrian had written down. The extension was a direct line and I was surprised when it rang and rang. Eventually a male voice answered.

  ‘Social Services.’

  ‘It’s Cathy Glass. I’m Tayo Mezer’s carer. Someone phoned a few minutes ago to speak to me. I’m returning the call.’

  There was an ominous silence, then: ‘I don’t know anything about it. Do you know who’s dealing with it?’

  ‘No. Brian Williams placed Tayo yesterday, and he said someone else would be taking over today. She phoned a few minutes ago and gave this extension.’

  Another ominous silence. I was fairly used to ominous silences followed by someone denying all knowledge of anything to do with my case. ‘I’ll try and find out. Can I have your telephone number?’

  I gave my landline number, more in hope than expectation. I don’t know how many times I’d given out my details and waited in vain for a call to be returned, only to learn in the end that the message had disappeared into the void.

  ‘And what did you say your name was?’

  ‘Cathy Glass.’

  ‘And who’s it about?’

  ‘Tayo Mezer.’

  There was a pause while he wrote. ‘Is Tayo your child?’

  ‘No. I’m his foster carer. He was placed with me yesterday.’ My patience was being tested.

  There was another silence, when I assumed he was writing some more, then: ‘And what was the query about?’

  I spoke slowly, enunciating every word. ‘A social worker is taking over Tayo’s case and that person phoned me. I am returning the call.’ I gave him enough time to write, then added, ‘So will you tell that person I’m at home now, on this number.’

  ‘Yes. I’ll have to speak to someone.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Another frustrating, repetitious call, but there was nothing for it but to wait for whoever it was to ring me back.

  I put the laundry on, then made a cup of coffee. I was just sitting down with it when the phone went and I answered it immediately.

  ‘Is that Cathy Glass?’ It was a female voice.

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘It’s Sandra Braxley. I’m taking over Tayo Mezer’s case.’

  ‘Ah good.’ I was relieved. Contact established, thank goodness. ‘Hello – did you get my message?’

  ‘No. Why, is there a problem?’

  ‘No, it was just to say I was returning your call.’ But, I thought, no surprises to learn that the last conversation had been a total waste of time.

  ‘Sorry. I was away from my desk, on another line. How was Tayo last night?’

  ‘Fine,’ I said, and gave her a brief résumé of his first night and what had happened that morning.

  ‘Thank you so much, that’s very helpful. I’ll need to see Tayo thi
s week. Can I come tomorrow after school?’

  ‘Yes, certainly. We should be back by four at the latest.’

  ‘I’ll make it four-thirty, then. I expect he’ll want a drink and a snack when he first gets in.’

  I was warming to Sandra Braxley already. First a quick follow up on her initial call, and now some consideration for Tayo. I’d lost count of the number of social workers who visited at four on their way home from the office, and then wondered why the child, having just come in from school, was cranky and more interested in a drink and a biscuit than in what the social worker had to say.

  ‘We’ve found his mum,’ Sandra continued, ‘but I want to discuss with you whether we should tell Tayo or not.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The police have been in touch. Minty is in Holloway prison.’

  ‘Oh dear. Can I ask what for?’

  ‘She was arrested yesterday for being drunk and disorderly, and she hit one of the arresting officers so it’s assault as well, which is why she’s still there. I’m hoping they’ll keep her for a few more days as I need to speak to her and once she’d released we won’t know where she is. She’s virtually impossible to contact.’

  ‘Will Tayo be seeing her in prison?’

  ‘My instinct is no. She won’t be in for long and it’s not the nicest of places for a child to visit.’

  Sensible woman, I thought. I had once had to take a child to visit a parent in prison every month for a year, and it was upsetting for everyone involved. The child had only just recovered from one emotional parting when it was time for the next.

  ‘I agree,’ I said firmly. ‘And from what the deputy head said, it’s not as though Tayo’s used to seeing his mother every day.’

  ‘Do you think we should tell him where she is?’ she asked.

  ‘If we don’t have to, then I wouldn’t. Has she been in prison before?’

  ‘Yes, but under different names. The police have turned up other charges of drunk and disorderly, and also of soliciting.’

  So Roberta had been right about his mum’s work, I thought.

  Sandra continued. ‘She gave her name as Minty Mezer this time but her fingerprints matched up with others under different names. She’s broken bail before on two other occasions. She probably won’t get it this time. Minty is in court tomorrow so let’s wait and see what happens then.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’ve also found out that Tayo attended a school in Kent for two terms, when he was six. I spoke to the headmistress this morning, but she was very guarded when I told her Tayo had been taken into care. It’s the same head as when he was there, but she said they’d had very few dealings with Minty. Apparently they had no concerns about Tayo, though when I asked for the address he’d had then, their records showed five different addresses. I checked, and they are all B&Bs.’

  No wonder the head was guarded, I thought. That in itself should have raised concerns.

  ‘As you probably know,’ Sandra continued, ‘Kent is struggling with the high number of children coming in through immigration, so I guess Tayo wasn’t a priority. Apart from that, we haven’t turned up anything else. The rest of his life is a blank. It’s interesting though, what Tayo told you about Nigeria. When we’ve finished I’ll give the Home Office a ring, and also the Nigerian Embassy. Mum insists both she and Tayo have British passports but hasn’t produced them yet.’

  ‘You presumably know about the different addresses in recent months?’ I asked. ‘Tayo pointed out some on the way to school.’

  ‘Yes, but if you can keep a note of any he mentions, it would be helpful. The taxi driver who contacted us last year gave us a list. He kept picking Minty up from different addresses late at night, and thought there was a child left alone.’

  ‘These were the B&Bs?’

  ‘Some were, others were bedsits. He saw Tayo looking out of the window as he drove Mum away.’

  ‘Tayo told me he had stayed with friends.’

  ‘Sometimes he did, but other times he was alone. The taxi driver had been picking up Minty since June last year so it’s been going on for quite a while.’

  ‘Where did he take her?’ I asked, curious.

  ‘No specific address. Just various streets around Leicester Square.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then. And say hello to Tayo for me. Would you tell him I’m looking forward to meeting him?’

  ‘Will do.’

  I put the phone down, feeling that things were looking up: Roberta de la Haye and now Sandra Braxley – both efficient and aware of what was going on.

  Adrian came bounding down the stairs three at a time. ‘Dad phoned my mobile,’ he said as he got to the bottom. ‘He’s seeing us on Sunday.’

  ‘OK. Are you and Paula both going?’

  ‘She’s not sure yet.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with her. I think she should. She missed last time.’

  Although my husband had run off with someone half his age eight years previously, leaving me with two young children, he had, to his credit, maintained contact with Adrian and Paula. They both now had commitments of their own and friends to meet, but I still encouraged them to see their father whenever possible. Lucy, adopted by me after a long foster placement, saw her natural mother twice a year. It had been difficult when the children were young, explaining why there was this difference, and that they couldn’t all go on one of the ‘treat’ outings together, but now they were older they obviously understood and it also gave them another bond; they often discussed their estranged parents in quite a therapeutic manner.

  It wasn’t long before the phone rang again. It was the secretary from the agency I fostered for.

  ‘Morning, Cathy,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid Jill has been called away with a personal family crisis and will be off work for a while. She asked me to let you know.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘Tell her not to worry. Everything’s ticking along here. And send her my regards.’

  ‘Will do. And if you need anything, Joan is covering.’

  ‘OK. Thank you.’

  Jill had been my link worker for over six years, and I’d got to know her quite well so I was well aware that her own family wasn’t without its problems. One of her two sons was a heroin addict, and the family had endured repeated failed attempts at weaning him off it. I thanked my lucky stars that my children had so far steered clear of drugs, even cigarettes, but I had never become complacent. After all, drugs were such a huge problem for parents bringing up teenagers and even those children from good families, like Jill’s, weren’t exempt from their evil claws.

  While I wished Jill luck, I wasn’t too worried about not having her support and input for a while. After so many years of fostering and dealing with Social Services, I was confident that I could manage. The only thing troubling me was the niggling mystery of Tayo himself. How on earth had his mother managed to produce this bright, well-mannered, articulate child, and then neglect him so badly that he’d had to be taken into care?

  Chapter Six

  Heritage

  Adrian had taken down the Christmas decorations and the house looked strangely bare as I set off to collect Tayo from school.

  I arrived in plenty of time and waited, as arranged, just inside the school gates. The bell sounded inside at three-fifteen and the children began streaming out, but there was no sign of Tayo. I waited a little longer, then checked with one of the last parents still waiting in the playground that there was no other exit. At three-thirty I went in. A member of staff immediately approached me and asked if I needed help.

  ‘I’m Cathy Glass, Tayo Mezer’s carer. I was supposed to meet him at the gates but he hasn’t shown up,’ I explained.

  ‘I’ll take you to his classroom,’ she said. It was empty. We checked the boys’ toilets but they were empty too. The corridors were now more or less devoid of children, except for the ones taking part in a gym club in the hall; we looked in but Tayo wasn’t there.


  We went to Roberta de la Haye’s office where she was busy at her desk. I explained that we couldn’t find Tayo, and she joined in the search. I was beginning to get worried. Where on earth could he be? He was too intelligent to have misunderstood our arrangement and I couldn’t believe he would have forgotten either.

  ‘Was he dismissed with the rest of his class?’ I asked.

  ‘Let’s go to the staff room and ask his class teacher,’ Roberta said. ‘You haven’t met Mrs Gillings yet.’

  In the staff room I was introduced to Sonya Gillings who confirmed Tayo had been in class until the bell rang, and he’d left with the others, saying he was meeting me in the playground. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking worried. ‘I wouldn’t have let him go if I’d have known there was going to be a problem.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Roberta reassured her.

  The four of us continued searching the empty classrooms, the dining hall, and library. As time went on, it seemed more and more likely that Tayo had left the building. By the time we’d been searching for half an hour, I was getting nervous.

  ‘If we don’t find him soon, I’ll have to alert Social Services and the police,’ I said.

  ‘Where on earth can he be?’ muttered Roberta de la Haye grimly, as we retraced our steps back to her office to use her phone.

  I glanced into Tayo’s classroom as we passed, and gasped. There he was, sitting calmly at a table with an open book before him. We hurried in.

  ‘Tayo, where have you been?’ I asked, both annoyed by the anxiety he’d caused, and also relieved. ‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere!’

  He looked up at me, his eyes widening in innocence. ‘You weren’t in the playground so I came back in here,’ he said. His expression was similar to the one I’d seen the previous night, that of a vulnerable little boy – only whereas then it was genuine, this time it had an artful and almost practised edge to it.

  ‘Tayo,’ I said firmly, ‘I’ve been waiting by the school gates since just after three. You certainly didn’t come out.’