Taken. Rosie Lewis
someone calm to take care of her. Someone who’s able to put her needs first. You live a rackety life, love, not right for a baby, especially one with additional needs. You know that, deep down, don’t you?’
Christina started to cry. It wasn’t a howling display designed to garner sympathy but rather a quiet, reluctant release of emotion. Tears trickled down her cheeks and I bowed my head, a lump rising in my throat. Peggy handed her a tissue and she blew her nose loudly. I glanced out of the small window at the end of the room and stared out over the local authority car park, the sound of Christina’s quiet sobs moving me more than I would ever have expected or wanted them to. She had harmed a helpless baby and I had strong feelings about that, but viewed dispassionately, there was no malicious intent – it had happened as a by-product of hurting herself. It was such a sorry state of affairs that I couldn’t help but feel sad for everyone involved.
‘Come on now, don’t upset yourself. Let’s talk about these referrals you keep ignoring, shall we?’ Peggy said, kindness creeping into her tone. ‘You’re a young girl. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you and you’re surrounded by people who want to help, love. Let’s get you booked in again and –’
‘Oh God,’ Christina screeched bitterly. She stood and grabbed her carrier bag. One of the plastic handles caught on the back of the chair and she gave a cry of frustration. There was a waft of tobacco as she hauled it free and threw herself at the door. ‘I can’t hack no more of this shit!’ she shouted, in the corridor before Peggy even had a chance to protest. The door banged behind her. I stared at Peggy in surprise.
‘Bloody hell,’ the social worker said, gathering her papers into a pile and banging one end into a block on the table. ‘I could shake her, honestly I could.’
‘She won’t go for help?’
She sighed loudly, air wheezing in her throat. ‘Oh, she goes all right, picks up her methadone and then tops it up with God knows what else when she gets out. She’s a character, I’ll grant you that. I actually quite like the girl; that’s why it’s so damn frustrating.’ She raised her eyebrows, heaved another sigh and then set her papers down gently, patting the top. ‘Anyway, on the bright side, Megan’s doing a little better you say?’
I nodded. ‘She seems to be a bit more comfortable. The Gaviscon’s helping, I think, although she still throws up after every feed.’ I gave her a rueful smile. ‘She has a knack of catching me right here,’ I said, patting my chest, ‘no matter which position I hold her in.’ Peggy huffed a soft laugh. ‘She’s sleeping a little easier as well. She really is a gorgeous baby.’
The social worker levelled her gaze. ‘Hmmm, yes, she is. And I’m supposed to constantly undermine your relationship with her so that you don’t get too attached. It’s what we’re told to do for our foster carers when they’re looking after babies.’ She bit her lip thoughtfully. ‘Only, if Megan were my own child I’d want you to love her utterly and completely, no holds barred, because the way we’re loved as babies defines how much love we’ll have in our hearts when we’re adults.’
I smiled at her. ‘I’ll keep her close, don’t worry about that.’
‘Yes,’ she said, looking directly at me. ‘I thought as much. But you’ll suffer the consequences when she leaves, that’s all I will say. And believe me, it’s going to hurt you a lot more than it’ll hurt anyone else.’
I gave a soft shrug. ‘That’s as it should be.’ I knew that if Emily or Jamie had been taken into care, I would have wanted whoever was looking after them to be smitten, however painful the eventual parting.
Peggy gave me a satisfied nod. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Right, so, contact stands at four times a week for now, as you’d have seen on the schedule I emailed. When we next go to court I’ll try and get it reduced. Let me know how it goes this afternoon. If it’s too difficult at home we’ll try to work something out, but Christina’s mild enough. Her bark’s worse than her bite.’
‘So today’s contact is going ahead then?’
Peggy’s jaw dropped again so that she gained a severe look. She peered at me over the top of her glasses. ‘As far as I know,’ she said abruptly. ‘Why would you think otherwise?’
‘I thought maybe, with Christina’s cold and everything, she didn’t look well enough to be around a baby and if she’s infectious –’
‘That’s no cold, Rosie,’ Peggy scoffed. ‘She’s been at the snuff, that’s all that is. And she’s got a touch of sinner’s eye, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘Sinner’s eye?’
Peggy nodded grimly. ‘It’s one of the places hardened addicts use to inject – the soft tissue around the eye. Either Christina’s worked her way through all the veins she can find and it’s the only place left, or she’s going for the big guns now she’s no longer pregnant.’
I blanched; my stomach contracting.
‘High impact,’ Peggy explained as she pushed her chair back and rose. She winced, her lips clenched together as if in pain. ‘Hits the brain faster,’ she added a little breathlessly, a few beads of sweat appearing on her brow. ‘Gives them the head rush they’re looking for.’
I grimaced again and Peggy shook her head, her expression relaxing. ‘My goodness, Rosie, you’ve led a sheltered life,’ she said, eyes twinkling with amusement. ‘You should do my job for a few months. That’d cure you.’ She turned stiffly and held the door open for me. ‘By the way, I’ve got to go into hospital tomorrow so you’ll need to contact the fostering team manager if there are any problems while I’m away. I’ll be back in the office next week, all being well.’
‘Oh, nothing serious, I hope?’
‘Something and nothing,’ she said briskly, flapping her plump, reddened fingers through the air. She barked a laugh as she followed into the corridor. ‘Mind you, if you call the office next week and they tell you I’m dead, you’ll know I underestimated the situation.’
I laughed, and then we both went our separate ways.
I collected Megan from my mother’s house straight after the meeting, but Zadie asked if she could stay for a while longer and help to sort some coloured squares into a pattern for making a patchwork quilt. Mum readily agreed, especially when I told her about Christina coming over for contact. ‘Best you stay here,’ Mum said, giving Zadie a wink.
I was surprised to see Des waiting on the doorstep when I got home. ‘Ach, I’m sorry, Rosie,’ he said, as I climbed out of the car. I wondered whether he had been talking to his brothers back in Scotland – his accent was particularly pronounced today. ‘I was too late to make the meeting. I thought I’d try and catch you’s here.’ His hair was wilder than ever, presumably because he’d been rushing, the long curls criss-crossing over themselves across the top of his head, his slightly crumpled trousers and shirt-tails visible beneath the leather jacket he wore lending him a dishevelled glamour that could only ever happen by accident.
In contrast to his appearance, Des gave off an air of indefinable knowing. Nothing ever seemed to faze him or rob him of his calm. No matter what was going on around him, you always got the feeling that he’d been expecting it all along.
‘That’s OK.’ I pulled my handbag up onto my shoulder, closed the driver’s door and walked around to the other side of the car, for Megan. Des got there first, chivalrously lifting her seat out for me and holding it easily in one hand. Since finding out that he was leaving, something had changed between us. I wasn’t sure what, but I stood awkwardly for a moment, my keys dangling in my hand. Des seemed perfectly comfortable, though, as usual. With his long legs planted wide, he gave a small jerk of his head. ‘Coffee, then? Before I head back to the office?’
I