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Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

In the Beginning

Chapter One: Close to Tears

Chapter Two: Mr Sleep Bear

Chapter Three: The Photographs

Chapter Four: Inappropriate

Chapter Five: Marianne

Chapter Six: My Concerns Grow

Chapter Seven: Guilty

Chapter Eight: Wise Owl

Chapter Nine: Sexualizing the Innocent

Chapter Ten: Calm Before the Storm

Chapter Eleven: Ignorance

Chapter Twelve: Very Upset

Chapter Thirteen: Two-Parent Family

Chapter Fourteen: The Meeting

Chapter Fifteen: Loyal to Abuser

Chapter Sixteen: Are You Happy Here?

Chapter Seventeen: Special Present

Chapter Eighteen: Sudden Turn of Events

Chapter Nineteen: Dr Jones

Chapter Twenty: He’s Mine!

Chapter Twenty-One: The Telephone Call

Chapter Twenty-Two: Icing on the Cake

Chapter Twenty-Three: She Must Hate Me

Chapter Twenty-Four: A New Friend

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Decision

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Visit

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Postcard

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Couple in the Playground

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Exclusive sample chapter

Cathy Glass

Moving Memoirs eNewsletter

About the Publisher

In the Beginning

To write this book – Beth’s story – I need to go back in time, to when Adrian was six and Paula was just two. I had only been fostering for a few years, and back then foster carers were given little in the way of training or support, or background information on the child. They were ‘thrown in at the deep end’ and left to get on with it, either swimming or sinking under the strain of it all. Looking back now, I shudder to think of some of the unsafe situations my family and I were placed in, and I also wonder – with the benefit of hindsight from years of fostering and training – if I would have handled situations differently. Some, maybe, but not with Beth. I am sure I would have made the same decisions then as now, for some behaviour is never acceptable and has to be stopped to save the child.

Chapter One
Close to Tears

I was starting to think that they weren’t coming after all. Beth’s social worker had telephoned me during the afternoon and had said she would bring Beth to me at about ‘teatime’. It was now nearly seven o’clock – well past teatime – and Adrian, Paula and myself had eaten. I’d make Beth something fresh to eat if and when she arrived. It was a cold night and little Beth would be upset enough at being parted from her father without arriving tired and hungry. I knew that plans in social care often change unavoidably at the last minute, but I thought the social worker might have telephoned to let me know what was going on. A little while later I told Paula it was time for her to go to bed. We were in the living room, at the rear of the house, snug and warm, with the curtains closed against the cold, dark night. Paula and Adrian were sitting on the floor; Paula had been building a castle out of toy bricks and Adrian was poring over a large, beautifully illustrated book on vintage cars and motorbikes he’d been given as a Christmas present three weeks previously. Toscha, our lazy, lovable cat, was curled up on her favourite chair.

‘I thought that girl was coming?’ Adrian said, glancing up from his book.

‘So did I,’ I said. ‘Perhaps her father isn’t as ill as they thought and she was able to stay at home. I hope so.’

Adrian, aged six, had some understanding of what fostering meant from having children stay with us previously, while Paula, aged two, wasn’t really old enough to understand, although I’d tried to explain that a girl aged seven who was called Beth might be coming to stay with us for a while. All I knew of Beth, other than her age, was that she lived with her father and that he was now ill and likely to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital. That was all the social worker had told me when she’d telephoned and I’d hoped to learn more from her when she arrived with Beth.

I rose from where I’d been sitting on the sofa and went over to Paula to help her pack away the toy bricks. ‘Bedtime, love,’ I said again.

‘I thought that girl was coming?’ Paula said, repeating Adrian’s comments. She was at an age where she often copied her older brother. I heard him give a little sigh.

‘I don’t think she will be coming now,’ I said to Paula. ‘It’s rather late.’

But just as I began collecting together the plastic building bricks, the doorbell rang, making us all jump. Both children looked at me expectantly.

‘Perhaps it is them after all,’ I said. ‘Stay here and I’ll go and see.’

With my husband, John, working away I was cautious when I answered the door after dark. Leaving Adrian and Paula in the living room, I went down the hall and to the front door where I first peered through the security spy-hole. The porch light was on and I could make out a woman and a child. Reassured, I opened the front door.

‘Sorry we’re so late,’ the woman immediately apologized. ‘I’m Jessie, Beth’s social worker. We spoke on the phone. You must be Cathy. This is Beth.’

I smiled and looked at Beth, who was standing close to her social worker. She wore a grey winter’s coat buttoned up to the top. She was pale, but her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were puffy from crying. She clutched a tissue in one hand, which she pressed to her nose.

‘Oh, love,’ I said. ‘You must be very tired and worried. Come in.’

‘I want my daddy,’ Beth said, her eyes filling.

‘I understand,’ I said, touching her arm reassuringly. Jessie eased Beth over the doorstep and then brought in a very large suitcase.

‘We stopped off at Beth’s house to get her clothes,’ Jessie explained as I closed the front door. ‘It took longer than I expected. Beth wanted to change out of her school uniform, and then we had to pack. She was worried about washing her clothes and the food in the fridge spoiling. I’ve told her not to worry, that you’ll wash her clothes here, and the house will be fine.’

I smiled again at Beth. ‘That’s right. There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll look after you.’ Although I wondered that a seven-year-old had thought about laundry that needed to be done or food spoiling. ‘Would you like to take off your coat?’ I asked her. ‘And we’ll hang it here on the hall stand.’

Beth began to undo her buttons and then let Jessie help her out of her coat. I hung it on the stand and Jessie did the same with hers.

‘I want to be with my daddy,’ Beth said again.

‘It’s just for a short while until Daddy is better,’ Jessie reassured her.

‘Come on through and meet my son and daughter, Adrian and Paula,’ I said. ‘They’re looking forward to meeting you.’

Jessie took Beth’s hand and I led the way down the hall and into the living room. My first impression of Beth was that she’d been well cared for at home and was now clearly missing her father dreadfully. Jessie, I guessed, was in her late thirties, smartly dressed in black trousers and a pale-blue jumper. She seemed stressed, probably from running late and from all the arrangements she would have had to make to bring a child into care.

‘Would you like a drink?’ I offered Jessie and Beth.

Beth shook her head while Jessie said: ‘A coffee would be lovely, thank you. Milk and one sugar, please.’

‘This is Beth and her social worker, Jessie,’ I said, introducing them to Adrian and Paula. ‘I’ll leave you all to get to know each other while I make the coffee.’ But Paula wasn’t going to be left alone with strangers and she rushed over and slipped her hand into mine.

Jessie and Beth were settling on the sofa as I left the living room with Paula to make the coffee, while Adrian had put down his book and was setting aside his embarrassment to talk to Jessie and Beth. It’s always difficult when a new child first arrives until everyone gets to know each other and relaxes. From the kitchen I could hear Jessie asking Adrian how old he was and what he liked to do in his spare time. As I made the coffee I explained again to Paula who Beth was.

‘Beth’s going to stay with us for a few sleeps while the doctors make her daddy better,’ I said.

‘Why?’ Paula asked. ‘Why’ was a word Paula had recently discovered and now used quite a lot.

‘Because there’s no one else at home to look after her,’ I said. ‘And she can’t stay at home by herself.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because she’s too young,’ I said. ‘She’s only seven.’

‘I’m two,’ Paula said proudly.

‘Yes, that’s right, and in a few months you’ll be three.’

I made the coffee, arranged some biscuits on a plate and set them on a tray. Paula followed me into the living room where I placed the tray on the coffee table within reach of Jessie.

‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully, reaching for the mug of coffee and a couple of biscuits. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had something to eat or drink. Today has disappeared.’

Jessie wasn’t the first social worker who’d arrived having not had time to eat or drink. ‘Shall I make you something to eat?’ I asked.

‘No, thank you. I’ll settle Beth and then I need to get home. I have two children of my own, although you wouldn’t think so for the little I see of them.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want a drink?’ I asked Beth.

She shook her head.

‘A biscuit?’ I asked, offering her the plate.

She shook her head again.

‘She’ll need something to eat before bed,’ Jessie said. ‘She had her school dinner but has only had a drink since then.’

‘You can tell me what you’d like later,’ I said to Beth with a smile.

But she pressed the tissue to her eyes and looked close to tears. I wasn’t surprised. I couldn’t begin to imagine how upsetting or unsettling it must be for a child to suddenly have to leave their home and all that is familiar and live with strangers.

Beth gave a sniff and then suddenly blurted: ‘It’s my fault my daddy’s ill. It’s because I forgot to give him his tablets.’ A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. Adrian and Paula looked at Beth, very worried.

‘No, that’s not the reason,’ Jessie said kindly, slipping her arm around Beth’s shoulders. ‘I explained to you on the way here that sometimes tablets are not enough to make a person better and they have to go into hospital. Your daddy was taking the tablets. It’s not your fault, Beth.’

Jessie cuddled Beth for a few minutes while Paula and Adrian, looking very concerned, sat close to each other on the floor beside the building bricks. I threw them a reassuring smile.

‘I’m wondering if we could go somewhere private to talk?’ Jessie asked me when Beth had stopped crying and had dried her eyes.

‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘We can go in the front room.’

‘Beth, you stay here with Adrian and Paula while I talk to Cathy,’ Jessie said. ‘Perhaps Adrian will show you his book. It looks good to me.’

Jessie stood and Adrian took his book and went and sat in the place Jessie had vacated. Paula immediately went too, sitting on the other side of him.

‘Thanks,’ I said to them as we left the room.

I showed Jessie into the front room and pushed the door to so we couldn’t be overheard.

‘I didn’t want to discuss Beth’s father in front of her,’ Jessie said, drawing out a chair and sitting down. I sat opposite her. ‘She’s finding it difficult enough already.’

I nodded.

‘Beth has been brought up by her father, Derek, since she was little,’ Jessie said. ‘I think she was about two or three when her mother disappeared. Beth never sees her. Derek has done a good job of bringing up Beth alone, but they came to the notice of the social services a few months ago. Derek went to his doctors saying he couldn’t cope and was depressed. He was prescribed medication, which seemed to work for a while, but today he reached crisis point. I don’t know why. He took Beth to school and then went straight to casualty at the hospital. He told the doctors he couldn’t take any more and was thinking of committing suicide.’

‘Oh dear. The poor man,’ I said.

‘Yes. They’ve admitted him to the psychiatric wing of St Mary’s Hospital, but I’m hoping it won’t be for long. Once his condition has been stabilized he should be able to go home with medication. If he’s in for longer than a week, Beth will need to visit him. They’re very close.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘Beth’s obviously going to miss him a lot. And there isn’t a relative who can look after her?’ Which is usually considered the next best option if a parent can’t look after their child.

‘Not that we’re aware of,’ Jessie said. ‘Derek has had nothing to do with his ex-wife’s family since she left four years ago. His own mother died last year and his father is old and frail and in a care home. Derek is nearly fifty. He had Beth late in life.’

‘I see.’

‘That’s all the information I can give you really,’ Jessie said, winding up. ‘You have my contact details, so telephone if there is a problem. Now, I need to get going. I’ll say goodbye to Beth and leave you to it. I’m sure Beth will feel a bit brighter in the morning after a good night’s sleep.’

Jessie hadn’t given me much background information, but I assumed I had what I needed to look after Beth and that the rest was confidential.

We returned to the living room where the children were sitting in a row on the sofa looking at the pictures in Adrian’s book as he turned the pages.

‘I’m going now,’ Jessie said to Beth. ‘If you need anything, ask Cathy. As soon as I have news about your daddy I’ll phone. But try not to worry. The doctors are looking after him and I’m sure he’ll be better soon.’

‘When can I see my daddy?’ Beth asked anxiously.

‘As soon as he’s a little better,’ Jessie said. ‘I’ll be in contact with the hospital tomorrow and I’ll telephone Cathy.’

I could see from Beth’s face that this hadn’t reassured her. Indeed, she looked close to tears again.

‘Goodbye,’ Jessie said. ‘Try not to worry.’

‘I’ll see Jessie out and then I’ll get you something to eat.’ I smiled at Beth.

Beth looked back, lost and afraid.

I went with Jessie down the hall and it was only as she began putting on her coat that I realized I didn’t know which school Beth went to.

‘Beth’s school?’ I asked. ‘I assume she’s still going to school while her father is in hospital?’

‘Yes, sorry, I should have said. It’s Orchard Primary School, about a five-minute drive away.’

‘Oh,’ I said, surprised. ‘That’s the same school Adrian goes to. I thought Beth looked slightly familiar. I’ve probably seen her going in or coming out of school. She’ll be in the year above Adrian.’

‘Well, that’ll make life easier for you,’ Jessie said. ‘One school run to do.’

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘When I collected Beth from school today I informed the school secretary that she’ll be staying with you for a little while.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘So Beth and Derek live quite close?’

‘About three-quarters of a mile away,’ Jessie confirmed. ‘Well, goodnight. I’ll be in touch, and thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

I saw Jessie out and closed the front door. Returning to the sitting room, I found Adrian and Paula now sitting either side of Beth. Adrian was still turning the pages of his book but was also giving a little commentary on the pictures, while Paula, having felt brave enough to leave her brother’s side, was snuggled close to Beth and holding her hand. I was pleased my children were making Beth welcome.

‘Jessie has just told me that you go to Orchard School,’ I said, smiling at Beth. ‘That’s Adrian’s school too.’

Beth gave a small nod, while Adrian turned to her and said: ‘I recognized you when you first came in.’ Then, looking at me, he said: ‘We don’t really know each other. Beth’s in another class.’

‘Still, it’s nice you are both in the same school,’ I said.

‘My teacher is Miss Willow,’ Beth said quietly to Adrian.

‘And mine is Mr Andrews,’ Adrian said. ‘He’s OK, but he shouts sometimes.’

As Adrian and Beth began talking about school, I thought it was a piece of good fortune that Beth lived locally, as one school run would certainly make my life easier. A more experienced foster carer would have realized that having a child’s family live so close, far from being a bonus, could actually cause problems.

Chapter Two
Mr Sleep Bear

I usually put the children to bed in ascending order of age – the youngest first – as younger children generally need more sleep. But tonight, as it was past the bedtimes of all three children, I took them upstairs together. I’d already placed Beth’s case in her room and had taken out her pyjamas, towel and wash bag. I would unpack the rest of her case the following day when I had more time. I now asked Beth and Adrian to change into their pyjamas while I got Paula, who was very tired, ready for bed. I switched on the light in Beth’s room and checked she had everything she needed and then left her to change; Adrian was already in his bedroom and knew what to do.

In the bathroom, I washed Paula’s face and hands and then helped her into her pyjamas. I took her round to the toilet. She was so tired she wanted ‘a carry’ from the toilet to her bed. I tucked her in, gave her a big kiss and said goodnight.

‘Night-night, Mummy,’ she yawned, her little arms encircling my neck. ‘Luv you.’

I hugged her hard. ‘I love you too, precious. Lots and lots. Sleep tight.’

By the time I left the room, she was nearly asleep.

I checked on Adrian who, now changed, was in the bathroom having a wash and brushing his teeth. ‘Straight into bed when you’ve finished,’ I said. ‘I’ll be in to say goodnight in a few minutes.’ He sometimes ‘got lost’ on his way from the bathroom to his bedroom and ended up downstairs playing, but I think even he was tired tonight, and he nodded.

I continued to Beth’s room. The door was pushed to but not shut. I gave a brief knock before I went in. Although Beth was only seven, I’d be giving her the same privacy I gave all the children. Nowadays foster carers draw up a ‘safer caring policy’, which includes privacy and is designed to keep all family members feeling safe and secure, but back then such matters were left to the carer’s common sense, and common sense told me that even quite young children liked some degree of privacy.

Beth had changed into her pyjamas and had also taken her clean school uniform out of her case ready for the following morning. It was laid neatly on the end of her bed.

‘Well done,’ I said, impressed. ‘You’ve got your uniform ready.’

‘I always do it at home,’ she said quietly. ‘But I don’t know where these go.’ Her brow creased. She was holding her dirty washing: underwear, socks and the uniform she’d presumably been wearing that day and had packed in her case. ‘At home I put them in the washing machine, but I don’t know where that is here.’

‘You don’t have to worry about that,’ I said, relieving her of the clothes. ‘I’ll see to it here. I’ll put them in the laundry basket and wash them tomorrow. Come on, let’s go round to the bathroom and then get you into bed. Everything will seem much better in the morning.’ Beth looked very sad and worried.

She gave a little careworn sigh and then picked up her towel and wash bag. ‘I hope I’ve remembered everything,’ she said anxiously. ‘I didn’t have much time to pack. Jessie was in a hurry.’

‘Beth, love, try not to worry,’ I said, touching her arm reassuringly. ‘If you’ve forgotten anything, I’m sure I’ll have a spare here you can use. And if not, we’ll ask your social worker to collect it from home. OK?’

She nodded, although she didn’t look much happier. I thought she appeared to shoulder a lot of responsibility at home for a child of her age. She looked permanently worried, although given her father was in hospital that was hardly surprising.

In the bathroom, Beth saw our towels hanging on the towel rail and immediately draped hers over, although a lot more neatly than ours. At the sink I showed her which tap was hot and which was cold. She gave a little nod. Not knowing how good her self-care skills were, I stayed in the bathroom to see if she needed any help. It soon became obvious that she didn’t. Unscrewing the cap on the toothpaste, she squirted a carefully measured amount of paste onto her toothbrush and then returned the cap to the tube, screwing it into place. She put the tube back into her wash bag and then methodically brushed her teeth and rinsed thoroughly. Once she’d finished she placed her toothbrush in the beaker with ours and then turned on the hot and cold water taps, mixing the water in the basin to the right temperature and testing it with her fingers before washing her face and hands.

‘Good girl,’ I said, even more impressed.

‘It’s too late for a bath, isn’t it?’ Beth asked, glancing at me in the mirror.

‘Yes. Just have a hands-and-face wash now. You can have a bath tomorrow when we’re in a better routine. Missing one bath won’t hurt.’

‘That’s what my daddy says,’ Beth said, smiling weakly. ‘I hope they’re looking after him in hospital.’

‘They will be, love,’ I reassured her.

I waited while Beth carefully patted her face and hands dry and then returned her towel, neatly folded, to the towel rail.

‘Good girl,’ I said again.

We went round the landing towards Beth’s room and she said she’d use the toilet before she went to bed, as she did at home. While Beth was in the toilet I popped into Adrian’s room to say goodnight and remind him to switch off his lamp. ‘Night, love,’ I said, tucking him in and kissing his forehead. ‘Love you. Sleep tight. And thanks for your help with Beth.’

‘She’s all right, for a girl,’ Adrian said, which, coming from a six-year-old boy, was a compliment. ‘Love you too,’ he said. ‘Will Dad be coming home at the weekend?’

‘Yes, I hope so.’

‘Good, I miss him.’

‘I know you do.’

I gave Adrian another kiss and came out of his bedroom. Beth had finished in the toilet and I went with her into her bedroom. I’d already closed the curtains, and with the Cinderella duvet cover, pillowcase and Disney wall posters, I thought the room looked warm and inviting. Although it obviously wasn’t as good as being at home.

I dimmed the lights and drew back the duvet ready for Beth to get in, but she stayed where she was and made no move to get into bed.

‘Is there anything else you need?’ I asked gently.

Beth shook her head.

‘OK, love, into bed then. It’s very late and you must be tired.’

I waited, but still Beth didn’t make any move towards the bed. ‘It’s bound to seem a bit strange sleeping here on the first night,’ I said. ‘But I can leave the door open and the light on if you like.’

‘No, it’s not that,’ she said, her face clouding.

‘What is it then, love? Can you tell me?’

‘I’m not used to sleeping alone.’

‘Oh, I see. Do you have a cuddly toy in your case that you usually sleep with?’ I thought this was likely, as many children sleep with a ‘cuddly’ toy for comfort so they don’t feel alone at night. I hadn’t seen a soft toy in Beth’s case when I’d taken out her nightwear, but then I hadn’t searched further down in the case.

‘No, I don’t have a soft toy,’ Beth said. ‘I don’t need one at home. I cuddle up to my daddy.’

‘Oh, I see. Your daddy cuddles you until you fall asleep?’ I said, remembering I’d done this with Adrian when he’d been little, as had John, and that I still did so with Paula sometimes. I could certainly cuddle Beth until she fell asleep, but she needed to get into bed first.

Beth looked at me seriously and fiddled with the sleeve of her pyjamas. ‘No,’ she said, after a moment. ‘I sleep with my daddy, in his bed.’

‘Oh,’ I said again. ‘Not every night, surely?’ For this seemed rather unusual to me for a girl of Beth’s age.

Beth nodded, almost sheepishly.

‘Don’t you have a bed and bedroom of your own?’ I asked. It was possible they didn’t have a second bedroom.

‘Yes, I have a bedroom,’ Beth said. ‘But I don’t sleep in it. I don’t like sleeping by myself. I like sleeping with my daddy and he likes me sleeping with him. Can I sleep with you? I don’t want to be alone.’

The safer caring policy for foster carers now advises that foster children should never sleep in a carer’s bed, and babies and children under two – who can share a carer’s bedroom – must have their own cot or bed. But then there was no safer caring policy so, as usual, I had to rely on my common sense. I wasn’t comfortable with having a seven-year-old who wasn’t a relative sleeping in my bed, apart from it not being fair on Adrian and Paula, who slept in their own beds. I also thought that Beth’s father might not like the arrangement, possibly feeling I was trying to usurp his position as parent. Obviously I didn’t want Beth to be upset, so I needed to find a solution.

‘Beth, love,’ I said gently as I perched on the edge of the bed. ‘I can’t really let you sleep in my bed. But I will stay with you and cuddle you until you fall asleep. I’ll leave your bedroom door open and the landing light is always on. If you wake in the night you can call out and I’ll come round straight away.’

Beth looked at me, unconvinced. But she needed to get into bed and off to sleep, so I thought I might have to be firm. ‘Come on, in you get,’ I said, patting her bed encouragingly. ‘I’ll stay with you until you’re asleep.’

Reluctantly, Beth climbed into bed and I pulled the duvet up to her chin. I then lay on the bed beside her, on top of the duvet, and put my arm around her to cuddle her.

‘How’s that?’ I said.

‘My daddy strokes my forehead,’ Beth said. ‘Like this.’ She lightly trailed her fingers over her forehead.

Many children like having their forehead caressed when they are finding it difficult to go to sleep. It’s soothing.

‘All right, close your eyes, and I’ll stroke your forehead,’ I said. ‘It won’t be the same as when your daddy does it, but I’ll try my best.’

Beth finally closed her eyes and I began gently stroking her forehead. Ten minutes later she was still awake, and her eyes opened. ‘The light’s too bright,’ she said. ‘It’s dark in my daddy’s room.’

Although I’d dimmed the bedroom light, I got off the bed and switched it off completely, but I left the door slightly ajar so I could see by the light of the landing. I returned to Beth’s bed, lay down and began stroking her forehead again, but ten minutes later her eyes shot open again.

‘It’s not the same,’ she said fretfully. ‘My daddy’s under the covers with me. I can feel him nice and warm when he cuddles up.’

Apart from not feeling wholly comfortable doing this for Beth, I knew that if I began this routine it was going to be difficult to break it later. I didn’t know how long Beth would be staying with me, but I knew I needed to create a practical working routine. I couldn’t spend every evening tucked up in bed with Beth; I had things to do. Then I had a flash of inspiration and I remembered Mr Sleep Bear. Mr Sleep Bear, as I’d named him, was dressed in blue-striped pyjamas and had been given to Adrian by my mother when he’d been very small. One evening, when Adrian hadn’t been able to go to sleep, I’d tucked the bear into his bed and told him that now he had Mr Sleep Bear with him – who was also very tired – he would go straight to sleep. And he did. After that, whenever Adrian hadn’t been able to go to sleep, Mr Sleep Bear came to the rescue. Adrian had outgrown the bear some years before and Paula had never used him, having a number of soft toys of her own that she took to bed with her.

‘I know,’ I said, climbing off the bed. ‘I’ve got just the person to help you go to sleep.’ Beth looked at me, concerned, as well she might. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. I’m going to fetch Mr Sleep Bear. He’s a very special bear who will send you off to sleep. Stay in bed and I’ll get him. He’s in my bedroom.’

Leaving Beth in bed, I went quickly round the landing to my bedroom and took Mr Sleep Bear from the ottoman where I stored Adrian’s outgrown toys. It was now after ten o’clock and I was tired and still had some clearing up to do. Please work your magic on Beth, I thought as I carried the bear round the landing and into Beth’s room. She was propped up in bed now, wide awake, and looking at me inquisitively.

‘This is Mr Sleep Bear,’ I said, sitting him on the bed. ‘He’s very soft and cuddly and he helps children get to sleep. When he’s in your bed you’ll find you will fall asleep very quickly. He can stay with you all night. And if you do wake up, just cuddle up to him and you’ll go straight back to sleep,’ I emphasized. Clearly the child had to believe in the magic to make it work. ‘Now, lie down, good girl, and we’ll get you off to sleep.’

Beth lay on her back and I raised the duvet to her chin, then tucked Mr Sleep Bear in beside her.

‘Will you lie with me until Mr Sleep Bear makes me go to sleep?’ Beth asked.

‘Yes, of course, love.’

I lay beside Beth and she turned onto her side, away from me and facing Mr Sleep Bear. Looping her arms around the bear she drew him to her. ‘Close your eyes,’ I encouraged, ‘and you’ll soon feel very sleepy.’ I certainly did!

I began stroking Beth’s forehead while she cuddled Mr Sleep Bear. It was only a few minutes before her breathing deepened and her face relaxed in sleep. I stopped stroking her forehead and waited a moment to make sure she was in a deep sleep. Then I carefully got off the bed and tiptoed out of her bedroom, leaving the door ajar so I would hear her if she did wake and call out.

I was feeling rather pleased with myself as I went downstairs. Beth was asleep, and tomorrow I’d start what promised to be a relatively easy routine with only one school to go to. In the kitchen, I let Toscha out for her evening run and then set about the washing-up. My feeling of well-being continued. Beth seemed a very pleasant child who’d been well brought up, and I was sure she’d get along well with Adrian and Paula. I liked Beth, and the only problem I could foresee was that she was going to miss her father dreadfully. But, of course, I hadn’t spotted the warning signs. That was to come later.

Chapter Three
The Photographs

Beth slept through the night and I woke her for school just after I’d woken Adrian.

‘Well done, love,’ I said. ‘You did sleep well.’

‘It was Mr Sleep Bear,’ she said, yawning and stretching. ‘He made me sleep.’ I smiled. She looked far more relaxed after a good night’s sleep, but naturally as soon as she woke her thoughts turned to her father. ‘Do you think my daddy will come home today?’ she asked, sitting upright in bed.

‘I don’t think so,’ I said gently as I opened the curtains. ‘Jessie will tell us when she has any news, but I think your daddy will stay in hospital for a few days, at least.’

‘I hope I can see my daddy soon. I miss him,’ Beth said, climbing out of bed.

‘I know you do, love, and Jessie said you can see him as soon as he is well enough to have visitors.’

‘What are visitors?’ Beth asked.

‘People who go and see a person. You can have visitors in hospital or at home.’

‘We don’t have visitors,’ Beth said quite adamantly. ‘It’s just me and my daddy.’ So I thought that the two of them appeared to be very alone in the world, with no relatives or friends who visited, but I didn’t comment.

I left Beth to get dressed, then I checked that Adrian was out of bed and that it was all right for Beth to be using Mr Sleep Bear, as the bear had originally been his, and he said it was fine. I helped Paula wash and dress and then we went downstairs where I fed Toscha and made Paula breakfast and myself a mug of coffee. Adrian and Beth knew they had to come down for breakfast as soon as they were ready. Beth was down first and she wanted cereal and toast, ‘like I have with daddy’, she said. Paula was already seated on her booster seat at the table eating porridge and Beth sat beside her. Adrian joined us a couple of minutes later and I was pleased I’d asked him if it was all right for Beth to use Mr Sleep Bear as, impressed by the bear’s magic powers, Beth talked about him quite a bit over breakfast. So much so that Paula wanted a Mr Sleep Bear too. Whoops, I thought. We only have one.

‘You have Mr Snuggles and Flopsy and Mopsy to help you sleep,’ I reminded Paula, naming some of the favourite soft toys she took to bed.

‘And Balo,’ she said with a smile.

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Crisis averted.

It was only natural that Beth would want to talk about her father. They were close and she was worried about him and missed him, and her talk soon left Mr Sleep Bear and returned to her father. ‘Will my daddy have breakfast in the hospital?’ she asked.

‘Yes, definitely,’ I said. ‘And lunch and dinner, and cups of tea in between.’

‘Will my daddy get dressed or stay in his pyjamas?’ Having never been in hospital it was a sensible question to ask.

‘He may stay in his pyjamas to begin with,’ I said. ‘Then, when he’s feeling a bit better, I expect he’ll get dressed.’ Clearly I didn’t know if this was so, but it seemed a reasonable supposition.

‘I don’t think my daddy took his pyjamas with him,’ Beth said, now looking at me anxiously.

‘Don’t worry. I’m sure your social worker will have thought of that. But if your daddy hasn’t got his things with him, then the hospital will give him what he needs until someone can take his things in.’ Although, of course, if Derek was as alone in the world as Beth had suggested, there may not be anyone to take in what he needed. I made a mental note to ask Jessie about this when she telephoned.

Beth’s talk of her daddy continued during the whole of breakfast, when we went upstairs to brush our teeth, in the hall while we put on our coats and shoes and in the car on the way to school. Beth’s questions and comments about her father’s welfare were intermingled with little reminiscences of what they did together: ‘Daddy and me cook our meals together … I like to help my daddy … I make him cups of tea … Daddy and me sit on the sofa and watch television … My daddy takes me to school … My daddy helps me with my reading … I love my daddy so much …’ and so on and so on.

I’d noticed that Adrian had gone quiet in the car and I was pretty sure I knew the reason why. Beth’s continual talk of her father was reinforcing to Adrian that he didn’t see his own daddy as much as he would have liked. While I’d gone to great lengths to reassure Adrian that his father working away couldn’t be helped and that he loved him very much, there was no doubt that Adrian missed him more than he admitted. Paula, that much younger, hadn’t known any different and was used to her father not being there during the week. But Adrian could remember a time when John had returned home every evening after work and they’d spent time together, similar to Beth’s descriptions. As I parked the car near the school and we climbed out, I tried to change the subject, but it didn’t work and Beth continued with her reminiscing. ‘My daddy calls me his little princess,’ she announced proudly.

‘That’s nice, love,’ I said. I threw Adrian a reassuring smile, but he looked away.

We entered the playground and Adrian ran off to play with his friends as he usually did. There were ten minutes before the klaxon sounded for the start of school and I waited in the playground with Beth beside me and Paula in her pushchair. I said hello to some of the other mothers I knew and then a woman with a similar-aged child to Beth came over. I’d seen her before in the playground at the start and end of school, although I didn’t know her personally.

‘Hi,’ she said pleasantly. ‘My daughter, Jenni, is a friend of Beth’s. They’re in the same class.’ I smiled and nodded as the two girls smiled shyly at each other. ‘I understand Beth’s daddy isn’t well,’ the mother continued. ‘Jenni said Beth is living with you?’

‘Yes, just for a short while, until her daddy is better,’ I confirmed.

‘Jenni would like Beth to come and play. We don’t live far from them. She could stay for tea. We’ve asked Beth before, but her father wouldn’t let her. I think he’s over-possessive.’

Not knowing the woman or the reasons for Derek’s decision not to let Beth go to Jenni’s house, I wasn’t about to agree – either that Derek was over-possessive or that Beth could go to tea. Derek had clearly had his reasons for not letting Beth go, and it wasn’t for me to overturn his decision.

‘That’s very kind of you,’ I said. ‘I’ll ask Beth’s father if it’s OK and then we’ll arrange something.’ Which seemed a fair reply to me.

‘Yeah, sure,’ she said, with a small shrug, and went off to talk to another mother. Her daughter followed. I hoped I hadn’t offended her.

‘Would you like to play at Jenni’s house if your father agrees?’ I now asked Beth.

‘I play with Jenni at school,’ Beth said.

‘Yes, I know, that’s nice, but Jenni’s mother is asking if you’d like to go and play at her house. I’ll need to ask your dad first.’

‘My daddy will say no,’ Beth said evenly. ‘He doesn’t want me going there.’

Parents of young children have the responsibility for deciding whom their children associate and play with outside of school. Derek – for whatever reason – had decided that Beth shouldn’t see Jenni and Beth had accepted that. As Beth’s foster carer, it wasn’t for me to question his decision. That was until Beth added: ‘I can’t play with children when I’m not at school. At home I play with my daddy.’

I looked at Beth carefully. ‘Do you ever have friends back to your home to play?’

‘No,’ Beth said.

‘Have you ever been to a friend’s house to play?’

‘No,’ Beth said again.

I was now thinking that Jenni’s mother may have been right when she’d said that Beth’s father was over-possessive, but I also knew it was not for me to criticize. Beth’s social worker had said that Derek had been doing a good job of raising his daughter, and there was nothing to suggest Beth wasn’t happy at home – far from it; she doted on her father.

The klaxon sounded and Adrian – now back to his normal, happy self – ran over to say goodbye. He gave Paula and me a quick kiss, called, ‘See ya later!’ to Beth and joined his friends who were lining up ready to go into school.

‘I’ll wait here for you at the end of school,’ I said to Beth.

We said goodbye and she walked over to where her class was lining up and began chatting to some of the girls. Beth seemed a sociable child and clearly had friends at school, it was just that she didn’t socialize with them outside of school, as most children her age did.

I wasn’t anticipating going into the school; there was no need. Jessie had informed the school that Beth was staying with me and the school already had my contact details from Adrian attending. The lines of children began filing into the building and I turned to leave. Then Miss Willow, Beth’s teacher, ran over. ‘I understand Beth is staying with you?’ she said, arriving at my side a little out of breath.

‘Yes, that’s right, until her father is better.’

‘Do you think we could have a chat this afternoon after school?’ she asked.

‘Yes, of course,’ I said.

‘Thank you. See you later.’ She ran back to her class to lead them into the building. Whatever was all that about? I wondered.

I returned home, cleared up the breakfast things and then spent some time playing with Paula and looking at picture books with her. Paula still had a little nap mid-morning and while she slept I took the opportunity to unpack the rest of Beth’s case. It was a very large suitcase and was taking up space in her room. I’d briefly opened it the evening before when I’d taken out Beth’s nightwear and wash bag, and Beth had also done some unpacking that morning after breakfast. I now began removing the rest of her clothes, hanging and folding them in the wardrobe and drawers. Although I didn’t take much notice of what I was unpacking, there seemed to be a lot of flimsy, frilly clothes more suitable for summer than the middle of winter.

Having taken out the clothes, I now found a towel stretched over the remaining items that felt hard to the touch. I lifted the towel to find lots of framed photographs hastily wrapped in newspaper. Foster children often bring a couple of photographs of their family with them; indeed, I encourage them do so as they take comfort in seeing pictures of their family when they can’t be with them. I usually frame the photographs and set them on the shelves in their room so they can see them from the bed at night. However, Beth’s photographs were already framed, and there were a lot of them. I was up to ten and still counting. Little wonder the case had been heavy, I mused. I guessed she’d stripped their living room of photographs, for the frames were lacquered wood and more like the ones you’d find displayed in a living room than in a child’s bedroom. I removed the newspaper from each picture and set them to one side. All of them so far were of Beth and her father, and I could now put a face to Derek. I already knew he was nearly fifty, and I now saw that he was of average height and build, with grey hair and blue-grey eyes. I wondered if I’d find a photograph of Beth’s mother, but they were all of Beth and her father.

Having emptied the case, I took it through to my room where I heaved it up and on top of my wardrobe, out of the way. I returned to Beth’s room and set about arranging the photographs on the bookshelves. There were fifteen photographs in all, of various sizes, some portrait shape and some landscape. Beth and her father were posing for the camera and smiling in all of them, and they had clearly enjoyed many days out. The photographs included shots of them on the beach, at the zoo, the funfair, the castle and a museum, as well as at home. The last one was taken at Disneyland. Lucky girl, I thought. Beth was dressed up as a fairy-tale princess and her father was dressed as the handsome prince. I arranged the photographs over three shelves and stepped back to admire my handiwork. I thought Beth would be pleased when she saw the display.

Yet as I stood there gazing at their photographs, I began to feel slightly uncomfortable. I couldn’t say why, but all those pictures of Beth and her father with their arms around each other, and smiling at each other or into the camera, unsettled me. Then Paula woke from her nap and, shaking off my feeling of disquiet, I went into her room to get her up.

That afternoon Jessie telephoned. She said she’d spoken to a nurse on Derek’s ward and he’d had a comfortable night. She asked me to tell Beth. Jessie also said it was too early to say how long Derek would be in hospital or when Beth could see him, but asked me to telephone the hospital over the weekend so that Beth could talk to her father.

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, and I wrote down the telephone number of the hospital, which Jessie now gave to me.

‘Derek’s on Ward 3,’ Jessie added. ‘He’s very anxious about Beth, so hearing from her should help. Could you telephone Saturday and Sunday, please?’

‘Yes. It will help reassure Beth too,’ I said. ‘They’re very close and she’s naturally worried about him, although I’ve reassured her he’s being well looked after.’

‘Thank you. Does Beth have everything she needs with her?’

‘I think so. I unpacked her case this morning. She seems to have everything with her.’

‘Tell me about it!’ Jessie said. ‘I had to stop her from bringing more. What have you done with all those photographs?’

‘I’ve put them on the shelves in her bedroom. Which reminds me, Beth was worried that her daddy didn’t have his pyjamas and wash things with him in hospital. I said I’d ask you.’

‘Reassure her he has everything he needs,’ Jessie said. ‘Marianne took them in, but best not tell Beth that.’

‘Marianne?’ I queried.

‘She was Derek’s long-term girlfriend,’ Jessie said. ‘Ex now – their relationship has finished. But he still phones her if he needs help. She has a key to his flat.’

‘Oh, I see,’ I said. ‘That’s kind of her.’

‘Yes, it is. I take it Beth hasn’t mentioned Marianne?’

‘No. I got the impression that Beth and her father were very alone in the world.’

‘Yes, they are now,’ Jessie said pointedly, but didn’t say any more.

Chapter Four
Inappropriate

That afternoon, I was wondering when I should go in to school to see Miss Willow, when Adrian came into the playground, where I was waiting, with a message. ‘Miss Willow says to tell you that she and Beth are in her classroom, and I’m to take you up.’ He seemed a little proud of the responsibility.

‘Thank you, love,’ I said.

The other children were now coming out of school so I folded the pushchair and then left it out of the way in the porch of the main entrance.

‘Am I going to school now?’ Paula asked as Adrian took her hand.

‘No, sis, you’re too small,’ he laughed.

‘We’re going into school for a little while,’ I explained to Paula. ‘So I can see Beth’s teacher.’

‘I’m going to big school now!’ Paula declared.

Beth’s classroom was on the first floor and Adrian and I took Paula by the hand and we went up the stairs together, with Paula counting the steps – as far as she could – as she did at home. We arrived on the landing and Miss Willow and Beth came out of their classroom.

‘Hello,’ Miss Willow said, coming forward to greet us. ‘Thank you for coming in.’

‘How’s my daddy?’ Beth immediately asked me.

‘He’s doing well,’ I said. ‘Your social worker telephoned. I’ll explain later.’ For I didn’t want to delay Miss Willow.

‘I thought Beth and Adrian could wait in the library,’ Miss Willow said.

‘Yes. I’ll bring Paula in with me,’ I said.

‘We’ll come down when we’ve finished,’ Miss Willow said to Adrian and Beth.

‘Yes, Miss,’ they chimed respectfully. Adrian and Beth went downstairs where the library was situated.

Taking Paula’s hand, I followed Miss Willow into her classroom.

‘Thank you for coming,’ she said again. ‘Do sit down.’ Then to Paula: ‘Would you like to do some crayoning?’

Paula gave a shy nod. ‘I am sure she would,’ I said.

Miss Willow took some paper and crayons from one of the cupboards and set them on the table, then she drew up two extra chairs for Paula and me. Beth liked Miss Willow, and I could see why. She was a warm, friendly person. I guessed she was in her late twenties; she was fashionably but smartly dressed and had long brown hair. I knew she’d joined the school the year before, and playground gossip said she was an excellent teacher. I was quietly hoping that Adrian would be in her class when he went up a year in September.

‘I won’t keep you long,’ she said apologetically. ‘But I thought it would be a good idea if we had a chat, as Beth is living with you. I take it you don’t know yet how long Derek will be in hospital?’

‘No. When Jessie, their social worker, phoned she said he’d had a comfortable night, but that was all.’

‘And you don’t know Derek personally?’ Miss Willow now asked.

‘No. I’ve never met him, although I’ve probably seen him from a distance in the playground at the start and end of school.’

Miss Willow gave a small, thoughtful nod. ‘It’s no secret he’s a single parent. Beth has never known her mother.’

‘So I understand,’ I said.

She paused again. ‘Has Beth said much to you about her father? I know she’s only just arrived, but I wondered if she’d talked about him?’

‘She talks about him non-stop,’ I said, smiling. ‘They’re obviously very close and she misses him a lot.’

‘Yes,’ Miss Willow said, and paused again as though collecting her thoughts.

I glanced at Paula, who was concentrating on her drawing. ‘That’s nice. Good girl,’ I said encouragingly.

‘I’d 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 tell he thought that Beth was as sweet and uncomplicated as I did.

That weekend was bitterly cold and on Saturday we mainly stayed indoors. The children played – sometimes together, sometimes separately and sometimes with John or me. I thought that early afternoon was probably a good time for Beth to telephone her father, so after lunch I left John, Adrian and Paula in the living room and I took Beth to use the telephone in the main bedroom where it would be quieter. Beth perched on the edge of my bed and waited as I dialled the number for the hospital and then asked for Ward 3. Once I was through to the ward I gave my name, explained who I was and that Beth would like to speak to her father, Derek.

‘Just a minute,’ the nurse said. The telephone clunked as it was set down. There was a wait of a minute or so and then the telephone was picked up and a male voice said: ‘Hello, Beth, is that you?’

‘Derek, it’s Cathy,’ I said. ‘Beth’s foster carer. Beth is here beside me.’

‘Oh, thank you so much,’ Derek said. ‘Thank you for phoning. That is kind of you. I can’t begin to tell you how much I’m missing Beth.’ Softly spoken, his voice broke. I could hear the emotion in his voice and my eyes immediately filled.

‘I’ll put her on now,’ I said. I passed the telephone to Beth.

‘Hello, Daddy,’ Beth said in a small voice. ‘When are you coming home?’

‘Soon, baby,’ I heard him say. ‘As soon as I can, my princess. But Daddy’s not well right now. I have to get better first.’

‘How long until you get better, Daddy?’ Beth asked. ‘I miss you so much.’

‘I miss you too, princess. Every minute of the day. Have you been to school?’

‘Yes. Cathy took me.’

‘Good. Thank her for me.’

Beth lowered the telephone and, looking at me with round, sad eyes, said: ‘My daddy says thank you.’

‘That’s OK,’ I said, loud enough for Derek to hear.

‘How long before you can come home, Daddy?’ Beth asked again.

‘Soon, princess. As soon as I’m better,’ Derek said.

‘What’s the matter with you, Daddy?’ Beth now asked.

Derek fell silent and I thought it was a difficult question to answer – to explain mental health to a young child.