Hidden Page 9

  In the kitchen, I put the chops under the grill and the vegetables to boil. Quarter of an hour later I heard the lounge door open and went out into the hall.

  ‘Is it all right if I watch The Simpsons until dinner’s ready?’ Tayo called, already halfway up the stairs.

  ‘Yes – but it’ll only be about ten minutes.’

  ‘He seems happy enough,’ Sandra said, as I walked her to the door.

  ‘I think so. Was everything all right?’

  ‘Absolutely. He’s very relaxed here. I’ll see you tomorrow then for the placement meeting. I’m not expecting trouble from Mum but I’ll have security briefed anyway.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And by the way,’ she added, ‘I didn’t eat all the biscuits, Tayo did. He said he was going to blame it on me.’

  ‘Hmmm – you know, I wouldn’t put it past him.’

  Chapter Eight

  A Mixed Day

  I was feeling very pleased with myself as I collected Tayo from school and then drove to the Social Services offices on the Thursday afternoon. I’d been up in the loft and stowed away the two boxes of Christmas decorations, enrolled Tayo in a Saturday morning football club, made after-school appointments for him at the opticians and dentist for the following week, and bought the pen, pencil and crayons he needed for school, together with an Adidas school bag (the Adidas being a treat).

  I’d also successfully registered him with the doctor, which, as I’d predicted, had been no mean feat. I’d had to go to the surgery and spend half an hour trying to write enough details on the form to persuade the computer that Tayo existed and should be registered. Fortunately the practice manager knew me, and that I was a foster carer, and she had been very helpful in the past when a child’s details had been scant. They’d never been as scant at this, though. The biggest problem was with Tayo’s immunization history. I had to cross out all the Yes/No boxes and write ‘don’t know’ beside each one: tetanus, whooping cough, diphtheria, MMR, Hepatitis A, Meningitis C and so on. Because ‘don’t know’ was not a recognized option, the computer rejected it time after time until the practice manager found a way of circumnavigating the registration programme, and managed to sneak Tayo in the back door when the computer wasn’t looking.

  After all that, I felt doubly pleased with myself as I pulled into the Social Services car park at exactly three-fifty and actually found a parking space.

  ‘Perfect timing,’ I said to my captive audience seated in the rear. Tayo grinned, but he was subdued and evidently a little anxious at seeing his mother again. He wasn’t the only one. I was nervous myself. The first meeting with the parents of the child I was caring for was always delicate. It was a difficult situation for the parents too, as they had to meet the person who had usurped their role, as a result of their failings as a parent. It could often be very upsetting and humiliating for them, and I tended to keep a low profile, although I always answered any questions the parents had, reassured them, and listened to their advice on how to care for their child – sometimes having to bite my tongue as I did so.

  Tayo hopped out of the car and stood beside me. I hadn’t told him about the Saturday football club or his Adidas school bag yet; I thought I’d leave it until we got home, when he might need cheering up after separating from his mother again. We went across to the Social Services building and signed ourselves in at reception. I was told by the receptionist that Sandra was in a meeting but would be with us shortly, so we found a couple of seats and waited for her. I thought that Sandra was probably with Minty, remembering that she had told me she’d asked Minty to go in early.

  The whole of the reception area had undergone extensive refurbishment in the last year and as a result was far more light and airy. Tayo and I sat side by side, casually watching people come and go. I noticed that security had been tightened recently. I had a photo ID that I’d pinned to my jacket, but I still had to sign in at every visit. Those who didn’t have ID passes were issued with a ‘Visitor’ label, which they handed in at reception when they left. After a while Tayo, who had noticed these labels being issued, asked what they were for. I explained.

  ‘Why haven’t I got a visitor badge?’ he said, as though it was a coveted prize and he was disappointed not to be given one.

  ‘I think it’s because children are exempt.’

  ‘What age do you have to be before you can have one?’

  ‘Good question,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. Sixteen?’

  ‘How do they know when someone has turned sixteen?’

  I laughed. ‘That’s another good question, Tayo. Maybe you should think about being a lawyer when you grow up. We can ask the receptionist when she’s not busy, if you like. But Sandra should be down soon to take us to the meeting. Have you ever been here before?’

  ‘No, but Mum has. She came here and asked them for some money when we were broke but they wouldn’t give her any. She said the woman was a bitch.’

  Charming! I thought, but of course kept quiet. I knew better than to say anything to a child that might sound like a criticism of a parent, particularly in the early days. Nevertheless, the picture I was forming of Minty wasn’t a very impressive one.

  We continued to wait in reception, then suddenly a woman’s voice could be heard screaming obscenities through the double doors some way over to our right. ‘Get your fucking hands off me! You fucking bastard! I’ll sue you for physical assault!’

  ‘Oh dear, someone’s a bit upset,’ I said to Tayo, who had obviously heard, as had everyone else in reception. ‘Best put your hands over your ears.’

  The shouting grew closer, and everyone in reception looked at the double doors.

  ‘Fuck off! You black bastard! I’ll have you arrested,’ the woman raged.

  Then the doors suddenly burst open and a very large security guard of African descent appeared, and spread himself across the door space, blocking the exit of the woman on the other side. We could see her. She was screaming like a banshee, her long black hair swinging maniacally around her face and shoulders. Tayo and I watched bemused, transfixed, and not a little frightened by the ferocity of the woman’s attack on the guard. Everyone else in reception, including the receptionist, was watching too. The woman was only about five feet tall but quite heavily built, and she pummelled her fists into the guard’s chest, hissing and spitting through gritted teeth. But the guard was much bigger and stronger and well versed in restraint technique, and he soon regained control. With a couple of deft movements he had her facing away from him with her arms behind her back, and they disappeared. The doors swung shut on the corridor.

  The group of visitors at reception were raising their eyebrows and exchanging whispered comments. I looked at Tayo. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked, aware such a display of anger can be quite unsettling for a child, as indeed it was for me.

  He nodded. ‘She always gets angry when she’s had a few drinks.’

  I stared at him, and my stomach tightened. ‘Tayo,’ I said quietly, ‘was that your mother?’

  He nodded and looked down. I put a reassuring hand on his arm and we sat in silence. Good God! I thought, but there was nothing I could say.

  Ten minutes later Sandra came through the same double doors, looking decidedly shaken. She came straight over.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked Tayo. He nodded. ‘Mum has calmed down now,’ she assured him. ‘She’s had a drink of water and she’ll be fine. We’re going to go ahead with the meeting, do you still want to come in?’ He nodded again. ‘Good boy, let’s go through.’

  Sandra led the way through the double doors. Just as well she hadn’t asked me if I still wanted to go to the meeting, because I didn’t. My initial nerves at meeting Minty had now developed into full-blown anxiety. But there was no time to ponder this because Sandra led us almost immediately into the meeting room.

  In the centre of the room four tables had been pushed together, and there were a dozen or so chairs dotted about. Minty was at the far end, sipping water
from a plastic cup. Behind her was the security guard, shoulders back, feet apart, and arms folded. Tayo rushed straight over to his mother, gave her a quick hug, then sat in the chair beside her. On the other side of Minty was Danuta Boyd, Sandra’s team manger, whom I’d met previously on another case. And next to her was a woman I hadn’t seen before, who must be the chairperson Sandra had mentioned.

  Still apprehensive, I took a chair on the opposite side of the table, a good way from Minty and close to the door. Sandra hovered for a moment watching Minty who was now talking to Tayo in a whisper, then said to the security guard, ‘Could you wait outside please?’

  He moved round the tables and went out, closing the door, and positioning himself just the other side. Minty hadn’t acknowledged me in any way yet but, given how angry she had been, I wasn’t unduly surprised. I took the opportunity to look at her. She had clearly been a strikingly attractive woman once, but her lifestyle had taken its toll on her looks. She could only be in her early thirties, I guessed, but she looked much older. She was bloated, her face coarse and already quite lined, probably from alcohol and drug abuse, and her long black hair was dull and greasy. Tayo had said she was Malaysian and I could see some of the characteristics, but there was also something else, possibly Caucasian. But what hit me more than anything was that Tayo looked absolutely nothing like her. He had undoubtedly inherited all his appearance from his father.

  ‘All right, Mrs Mezer?’ the chairperson said. Minty ignored her or didn’t hear her, and carried on whispering to Tayo. She tried again, looking at Minty and saying more loudly, ‘Shall we begin?’

  Eventually Tayo pointed at the chairperson, and said, ‘Mum, look—’

  Minty reluctantly stopped talking but didn’t look up. She crossed her arms, sat back, and stared at the table like a petulant child. Tayo looked up and met our gaze. The chairperson smiled at him.

  ‘We’ll start by introducing ourselves,’ she said. ‘I’m Anne King and I shall be chairing this meeting.’

  Sandra had sat between Anne and myself, and at the opposite end of the table to Minty and Tayo. ‘Sandra Braxley,’ she said. ‘I’m Tayo’s social worker.’

  ‘Cathy Glass,’ I said. ‘Tayo’s foster carer.’

  Tayo was next and having watched us introduce ourselves, knew exactly what to say, so in a nice, loud and confident voice he said, ‘Tayo Mezer. I’m the foster child.’

  Sandra and I smiled.

  It was Minty’s turn but she remained silent. ‘Mum,’ he said, giving her a little nudge with his elbow. ‘Say your name.’ He looked embarrassed that she couldn’t even get this right.

  She’s doing this on purpose, I thought. She’s certainly not drunk – the meeting wouldn’t have been held if she hadn’t been considered compos mentis. Judging from the way her face was set, I could see that her silence was a refusal to acknowledge or participate in the proceedings.

  ‘It’s Mrs Mezer,’ Tayo said at last.

  ‘And I’m Danuta Boyd,’ Sandra’s team manager said. ‘My role is one of observer. I won’t be contributing much.’ I guessed that she was probably present as part of Sandra’s evaluation for her annual review.

  Anne King, the chairperson, was also minute taking, which tended to happen in small meetings. She wrote down who was present, then looked up. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she said. ‘As you know, this is the placement meeting for Tayo Mezer, and Tayo, I’m really pleased you felt you could come. This meeting is about you, and it’s important we hear from you. Well done.’

  Tayo grinned, and Minty at last glanced up and looked at her son, before returning her gaze to the table.

  ‘This is only a short meeting,’ Anne continued, ‘and it’s really about making sure Tayo has settled in and answering any questions he or his mother, or his carer, may have.’

  I liked Anne’s approach. Placement meetings did tend to vary slightly but if the child was present and the chairperson was relaxed and friendly, they were low key and aimed at helping the child understand everything and feel able to join in.

  ‘Now, Tayo,’ she said. ‘This is all about you. I’ll start by briefly outlining why you were brought into care, and what’s going to happen.’

  Tayo looked at her, nodding and taking in every word, a contrast to his mother, who still sat with her arms fiercely crossed and face set, concentrating on the table. For want of a better term, she was sulking.

  Anne went on. ‘As I’m sure you know, Tayo, we’ve been very worried about you recently. You’ve had a lot of moves and may not have had all the care that a boy of ten needs. We also don’t know much about where or how you’ve been living. So Cathy will be looking after you until we’ve had a chance to learn more.’ She briefly explained the court process, which Sandra and I had already outlined to Tayo. He kept eye contact, nodded and took it all in, apparently very relaxed.

  ‘So,’ Anne said, ‘how do you like living at Cathy’s? I know you haven’t been there long, but what are your first impressions?’

  ‘It’s good,’ he said. ‘I’ve got my own room, and there’s lots to eat.’ He looked over at me and I smiled back.

  ‘That’s terrific,’ Anne said. ‘And is there anything you need that we should tell Cathy about?’

  I waited for his response, wondering if he’d say a cooked breakfast every morning, but that had run its course. He shook his head.

  ‘Your social worker, Sandra, will be visiting you, and you’ll have a chance to speak to her then.’

  ‘She already has,’ Tayo said.

  Anne glanced at Sandra, clearly impressed.

  ‘Yesterday,’ Sandra said. ‘Tayo appeared to be fine and I’ve given him my telephone number.’

  It was standard practice for a child of Tayo’s age to be able to contact his social worker personally. He had to feel that there was someone outside the fostering family he could turn to if he needed them. Although Tayo was living with me for now, it was actually the local authority that had legal parental responsibility for him.

  ‘Good,’ Anne said, then turned to me. ‘Cathy, could you tell us how Tayo has settled in so far?’

  ‘He’s doing very well,’ I said. ‘We’ve been shopping and he now has a full school uniform, and casual clothes. He’s eating well, sleeping well and integrating into family life. I’ve made myself known at his school, registered him at our doctors and arranged a check-up. I’ve also made appointments at the optician and dentist for next week.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Anne said. ‘So there are no concerns at present?’

  ‘No,’ I said, and smiled again at Tayo. There was no point mentioning the minor problems we’d had, especially with Tayo present. Like Sandra, I purposefully kept my report brief and positive. Minty wasn’t looking up but I was sure she was listening – she must be, it was her son I was talking about after all.

  ‘Anything else?’ Anne asked.

  ‘No. He’s a good boy and I’m sure he’ll do very well,’ I said.

  ‘And is Tayo able to stay with you until the final court hearing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Thank you, Cathy.’ Anne finished writing and looked down the table to Minty. ‘Mrs Mezer, is there anything you’d like to say or comment on? I appreciate you are not happy with Tayo being taken into care, but is there anything that we should know that might be useful in looking after him?’

  Minty said her first words without looking up. ‘She needs to give him a deodorant, he smells. I took him to the doctors. There’s something wrong with his blood, that’s why he smells.’

  Tayo visibly squirmed.

  Is that all you can think of to say? I thought disbelievingly, and felt sorry for Tayo that his mother could only think of something like that to say about him. ‘I can assure you that Tayo has a shower every day, and I’ve bought him a deodorant,’ I said, unsure of what else to say. Tayo didn’t smell, I knew that, and he was a very clean and neat little boy. I’d seen some personal hygiene disasters in my time, and Tayo was certainly not o
ne of them. Anne came to my aid.

  ‘If a doctor has raised concerns about Tayo’s blood, can you give me the details please?’ she asked Minty. ‘The doctor’s name? It’s important we know of any medical conditions Tayo has.’

  Tayo glanced sideways at his mother and I thought I detected a slight look of triumph, as though he felt she’d been caught out.

  Minty shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I can’t remember. It was some time ago. Tayo, you tell them.’

  We looked at Tayo, who quite clearly hadn’t the least idea what she was talking about. He shrugged in an exact imitation of his mother. So that’s where he got that little habit.

  ‘All right,’ Anne said. ‘If you do happen to recall anything, Mrs Mezer, please let Sandra know.’ She turned to Sandra. ‘Are there any medical concerns?’

  ‘Not as far as we know, but we haven’t been able to trace Tayo’s medical records.’

  Anne wrote. ‘Have you been to a doctor recently?’ she asked Tayo.

  ‘No. I went to the hospital once.’

  Sandra and I exchanged a glance. This was the first we’d heard of it.

  ‘And what was that for?’ Anne asked.

  ‘I fell off my bike and banged my head.’

  ‘Who took you?’ Anne asked kindly.

  ‘The friends I was staying with.’

  ‘Do you know which hospital? Or where the friends lived?’

  ‘Birmingham, I think.’

  Anne glanced at Sandra who shook her head. It was clearly the first time Sandra had heard Birmingham mentioned and she made a note – it might be another clue to unravelling Tayo’s past.

  ‘OK. That’s fine.’ Anne said, smiling at Tayo. ‘Mrs Mezer, would you like to add anything?’

  ‘No,’ Minty replied rudely, head down and chin tucked into chest.

  Anne looked at Sandra. ‘Have you set contact?’

  ‘Yes, for Tuesday and Friday at the Headline Family Centre. Mrs Mezer has asked for telephone contact as well. I suggest Wednesday and Saturday at six p.m. I’ll give Cathy Mrs Mezer’s mobile number.’ Sandra had said she was going to discuss the arrangements for telephone contact at this meeting, but I guessed she felt there was little point with Minty being so hostile. I made a mental note of the days and time.