‘Oh, I’m sorry, Katya. You misunderstood. It’s just you and me, I’m afraid. Is that all right? I was only able to come and get you today because Emily’s at a birthday party. I’m taking you out for tea as a treat.’
Katya kicked at a fallen leaf, her shoulders slumping. She barely registered when Maggie took her hand to cross the road. She only knew that she wasn’t going to her house and she wasn’t going to meet Emily.
‘You’re disappointed, aren’t you? I’m sorry. But I’ll make it up to you one day, promise.’
Katya forced herself to smile. The misunderstanding left her feeling small and ugly.
‘What did you do at school today?’ Maggie asked.
Katya picked despondently at the icing on her bun. ‘Maths and games. Geography.’
‘Emily’s good at maths. One of the best in the class. I had no idea until parents’ evening. It came as a complete surprise when her teacher said she should be in the top stream.’
Katya wanted to say that she was good at maths too, but didn’t like to show off. And anyway, she much preferred hearing about Emily, and Maggie was as eager to talk about her.
‘She enjoys books as well, of course. She’s reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe at the moment. She loves it. I’ll lend it to you once she’s finished.’
‘I only like fairy tales.’
Maggie tilted her head to one side. ‘Well, Emily likes those too. But there are other good stories, for when you grow out of them. Now, Katya, there’s another reason I brought you here.’
Katya, looking at her face, realized that, whatever it was, that was the real reason. Under the table she crossed her fingers.
‘Luke and Sally want to keep you. Isn’t that wonderful? I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but they’ve asked if you can become their permanent foster child. If things work out, they might even adopt you.’
Her heart sank. ‘Adopt me?’
It was as if all she was and all she had was nothing. No past, no future. How silly to have thought Maggie might want her. It would do no good to tell her that she was nervous around Luke, that even though he was kind to her something about him made her feel panicky, because she had already tried to explain. The trouble was Luke never shouted. When he was angry his voice stayed calm and reasonable, so that it was always Katya who saw red and slammed doors. She saw the effect he had on other people too; how he made them feel insignificant; made them lose their tempers. It was almost like he was playing games with their minds. There was this bloke two doors down who had three cars and he kept parking one of them outside the bungalow. He didn’t do it again after Luke had a go at him. Katya had watched from the lounge window. One of them had been all wound up, gesticulating and swearing, purple in the face, and it hadn’t been her foster father.
And then there was nice Luke; the Luke who talked to her and petted her when Sally was out and bought her the cakes and sweets she liked; who liked to watch television with her; who absently played with her hair or took her hand when something was funny.
Maggie had sat her down that one time and explained that Katya’s problem was that she wasn’t used to living with a man and that she associated men with her mother, in a bad way, but that most men weren’t like that. Most men were perfectly ordinary, decent and reliable human beings, and she needed to learn to trust again.
‘They’ve become very fond of you and they care about what happens to you. They don’t want you to have any more upheaval. And you’re doing so well at school. What do you think about that?’
She didn’t say anything. Maggie leant forward and tapped her hand.
‘Katya?’
‘You’d be better than Sally.’
Maggie laughed. ‘I don’t see how. I certainly can’t cook as well as she can.’
‘I don’t care about food!’ Katya exploded as the afternoon’s disappointments finally became too much for her. ‘I could cook for you and Emily. I could do anything.’
‘Sweetheart, calm down. I am so sorry, but it isn’t possible. I’m your social worker. That means my job is to see that you’re well cared for, safe and happy. I’ll still come and see you. And Sally has my office number, so you can always call if you need me.’
‘It isn’t the same.’
‘Oh, don’t cry. I know it’s a lot to take in, but think about it. It’s very hard to find a permanent adoptive family for older children and you’d be miserable in a home. You need a family, Katya, and they’re offering to give you one.’
She handed her a paper napkin. Katya screwed it up and pressed it to her nose. Her tears ran down between her knuckles. Other customers were watching, but Katya didn’t care. She wanted them to see how unhappy she was. Maggie got up and moved her chair round so that she was sitting next to her. She held her until she stopped crying.
‘You’re so young,’ she said. ‘Things will get better. You’ll see.’
As they left the tea shop she wondered if people assumed she was Maggie’s child, and looked up just as Maggie looked down at her. Her heart skipped. She imagined Maggie banging on the Bryants’ door at the last moment, shouting, ‘I made a mistake! I want her!’
10
Saturday, 23 January 2010
‘YOU HAVE NICE time,’ Magda says.
She holds the door open, smiling reassuringly, desperate for us to leave. I know that I can trust her, but that makes no difference to the fear I feel. After what has happened, leaving the children for an evening out is extremely hard. I only agreed because it’s Robert and Amber.
‘OK, but if Josh cries …’
‘I go up. Don’t worry, Vicky. You go relax.’
‘Don’t have the TV on too loud, just in case. And keep his door open …’
Tom is backing out, wrapping his scarf around his long neck. ‘Come on. Leave Magda to it.’
He takes my hand, tucks it into his coat pocket like he used to when we were students and breathes deeply. ‘Admit that it’s nice being out doing something.’
‘I suppose so,’ I smile. ‘I do feel better now I’ve put some slap on.’
‘You look stunning.’
‘And you look very handsome.’
I feel proud walking down the street with him, our fingers entwined. Above us the night is clear and clean, the moon a thin crescent, the few stars bright dots. The crisp freshness of the winter evening stings my cheeks pleasantly.
‘I mean it, Vicky. Sometimes I look at you and I feel so lucky.’
‘Me too.’
More so than you realize, I add silently. I listen to our footsteps on the pavement, the heels of my shoes tapping the concrete. Then I stop and turn to face Tom, reach up and kiss him on the lips.
He arches his eyebrows. ‘What was that for?’
‘Nothing. Just felt like it.’
I want to have a light-hearted conversation, but the words I need are out of reach or loaded with an overwhelming desire to explain everything and plead for understanding and forgiveness, and I can’t do that because it would mean the end of everything; the end of trust and the end of the life I love. I need him. When he smiled at me just now, I understood that. David North was an aberration. A seven-year itch.
‘You’re very quiet,’ he says. ‘What are you thinking about?’