Authors: Cathy Glass
‘Very brave and trying to stay positive,’ I said.
‘Norma can take Zeena’s statement at twelve o’clock,’ Tara continued. ‘I’ll collect her at eleven-thirty and take her to the police station, so there is no need for you to come. I’ll bring her home after, although I don’t know what time. Can you tell Zeena for me?’
‘Yes, of course.’ I then told her about the letter that had been pushed through our letterbox the evening before.
‘How very worrying,’ Tara said. ‘Norma said it was only a matter of time before they found out where Zeena was staying. I’ll take the letter with me when I collect Zeena and give it to Norma.’
‘All right, I’ll tell Zeena.’
We said goodbye and I went through to where Zeena was sitting in the living room with a book and told her of the arrangements. Unsurprisingly she immediately grew anxious.
‘I really don’t want to make this statement,’ she said. ‘I’m trying to forget what happened, but I’ll have to go through it all again and in a lot of detail.’
‘I know it’s difficult,’ I said. ‘But Tara will be with you. And Norma is so kind. She’s used to taking statements from young people and children who have suffered. I’m sure she’ll be sensitive to your feelings. And you only have to make the statement once, then it’s over with. It’s important you do it.’
‘I know,’ Zeena said despondently. ‘But then there’ll be a court case and I’ll have to go through it all again, and in front of my father and the other men!’
I knew that many child-abuse cases never made it to court because the young person couldn’t go through with the ordeal. I took Zeena’s hand in mine as I tried to reassure her.
‘I’m almost certain you will be able to give evidence in court without having to see your father or the other men,’ I said. ‘Ask Norma, but I think at your age you can sit behind a screen in court or give evidence via a live television link.’
This seemed to reassure her a little, but nevertheless it was a huge trauma. And, of course, it would be many months before the case went to court, giving Zeena plenty of time to worry and possibly back out. I kept her busy for the rest of the morning; she helped me in the kitchen and then we hung the washing on the line to dry. I didn’t want to start packing her cases until we had a definite day and time for her leaving, as it would be even more unsettling to be surrounded by packed cases with nowhere definite to go.
We returned to the garden and I enlisted her help in pruning a shrub.
‘You’ve got a lovely garden,’ she said.
‘Thank you. I like gardening.’ The top part of the garden had flower-beds, lawn and tubs on the patio, while the bottom part was dedicated to children’s play: mainly lawn, no flowers to damage, and swings, a climbing frame and mini goal post for football.
‘It’s very peaceful out here,’ Zeena said.
‘It is now, but you want to hear it when I am fostering young children,’ I said, with a smile. ‘They run wild here, but that’s OK. Children need to run and let off steam. So do adults sometimes.’
‘I know that feeling,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I feel I’m about to explode. Perhaps I should start running around the garden.’
‘Feel free,’ I said, and, laughing, we both went for a jog around the garden.
At 11.45 a.m. I said we should go indoors so we could hear the front doorbell ring when Tara arrived.
‘I’d rather stay out here,’ Zeena said, reluctant to leave the peace and tranquillity of the garden for the upsetting task that awaited her.
‘I understand, love, but you won’t be away too long, and then you can come out here again when you return. We could have dinner out here if it stays fine.’
‘That sounds good,’ she said.
Very reluctantly she put down the spade she’d been using to help me and followed me indoors. We washed our hands at the sink in the kitchen and I made us a cold drink. She didn’t want anything to eat. I reminded her she needed to take the letter from her father with her and she fetched it from her bedroom. Thankfully, Tara arrived on time so Zeena wasn’t left waiting with more time to grow anxious.
‘How are you?’ Tara asked Zeena.
‘Nervous,’ Zeena admitted, and handed her the letter.
‘Thank you. Try not to worry, you’ll be fine,’ Tara said. Then to me, ‘We’ll see you later then.’
Zeena gave me a big hug before she left and I watched them go. I knew Tara appreciated how anxious Zeena was and that she would take good care of her, but it didn’t stop me from worrying. I returned to the garden and occupied myself in doing jobs I’d been putting off for some time: weeding and cleaning the bird feeder and patio furniture. But even though I was busy, my thoughts kept returning to Zeena and the statement she was having to make, detailing the abuse she’d suffered. As the afternoon wore on I also grew concerned that she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast and must be hungry.
No letter had arrived for Paula that day about work and at four o’clock she returned home from sixth form. She, too, had been thinking about Zeena, concerned as to how she was getting on. I said I didn’t think she would be too long now and that I was planning on eating outside. She liked the idea and helped me choose and then prepare suitable dishes: quiches, rice, salads and garlic bread.
At 4.45 we were both relieved when the doorbell rang.
‘That’ll be Zeena,’ I said, and I rushed down the hall to answer it.
Tara and Zeena both looked exhausted, and I could see that Zeena had been crying.
‘She’s done very well,’ Tara said. ‘Norma said she’s a very brave young lady.’
Zeena went down the hall to find Paula.
‘Are you coming in?’ I asked Tara.
‘No, I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’m seeing Zeena’s siblings at five o’clock. I’m late now.’ I nodded. ‘Norma hasn’t found a safe house yet for Zeena,’ Tara continued. ‘But she’s still looking and hopes to find something soon. She’ll phone you as soon as she has something suitable. In the meantime we’ve both agreed that Zeena shouldn’t go out at all.’
‘I understand,’ I said.
We said goodbye and I joined Paula and Zeena in the kitchen. Zeena didn’t want to talk about what had happened and immersed herself in helping with the evening meal. Paula and I didn’t mention it either. We waited until Lucy was home before we ate; unfortunately Adrian wouldn’t be home until much later. The girls and I took the dishes, plates and cutlery outside and set them on the patio table, together with a jug of water and glasses. The air was warm, with only the slightest breeze – Lucy commented that it felt as though we were on holiday. My family and I love eating outside, and I find food tastes so much better in the fresh air. Zeena was hungry, so was I, and I realized that I‘d been so preoccupied worrying about Zeena that I’d forgotten to have lunch. We chatted as we ate and also laughed; there was a light-heartedness in our conversation that hadn’t been there for some time. Once we’d finished we took the dinner things into the kitchen and then returned to the garden. Lucy, Paula and Zeena ran to the bottom of the garden and amid lots of squeals of delight began playing on the apparatus and swings. I’ve never known a teenager yet – regardless of how sophisticated they believe they are – who didn’t enjoy the children’s play equipment.
I fetched my camera from indoors and took some photographs of the three of them playing, a copy of which I’d give to Zeena. Usually I take lots of photographs of the children I foster, but with all the secrecy and security surrounding Zeena it hadn’t been appropriate. Nor had there been much opportunity for days out, when I would have normally taken photographs. When the girls tired of the apparatus they got the bats and balls out of the shed. It was lovely to see Zeena playing and having fun as a child should, and I took more photographs. Then Zeena said she’d like a photograph of Lucy, Paula and me, so we posed with the garden as the backdrop. We continued with a game of doubles badminton and at nine o’clock Adrian arrived home, called hello through the open patio doors and then brought his plate of food into the garden. I joined him on the patio and we chatted as he ate while the girls continued playing on the lawn. The sun began to set, so I fetched some tea lights, which I lit and arranged around the patio. The effect was enchanting and quite magical.
‘I’ve got Friday and the weekend off work,’ Adrian said as we continued talking. ‘I’m thinking of going away with Kirsty, my girlfriend, to the coast.’
‘Oh, very nice,’ I said. ‘Will I meet her soon?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll bring her here first before we leave.’
‘I look forward to meeting her. And Adrian –’ I began, my voice growing serious.
‘Yes, I know, Mum,’ he said, aware of the lecture that was to follow. ‘I’ll be careful.’
I didn’t have to say any more. Without a live-in dad to have those father–son talks, I had fulfilled that role. Adrian was a healthy young man, so it was naïve to pretend that at some point he wouldn’t be having a physical relationship with his partner. Whether it had reached that stage yet with Kirsty I didn’t know, and it was none of my business, but I knew Adrian would treat her with respect and consideration.
It was nearly 10.30 p.m. before we finally went indoors, all of us happy but tired. It had been a lovely ending to the day and I was pleased Zeena had been able to let go of her suffering for a while and enjoy herself. Adrian locked up while the girls and I went upstairs and took turns in the bathroom. When I went to Zeena’s room to say goodnight I found she was already asleep, so I came out and quietly closed her bedroom door. I said goodnight to Paula and Lucy, and then Adrian, who was on his way up. Pleased that the day had ended so well, I climbed into bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.
I woke naturally at 6.30, refreshed and as prepared as I could be to meet the new day. I showered and dressed and then as usual woke Paula and Lucy at 7 a.m. However, our morning routine came to an abrupt halt at eight o’clock when the landline rang. I’m always spooked by an unexpected early-morning call and worry it could be bad news. I was therefore almost relieved to hear Norma’s chirpy voice.
‘Good morning, Cathy. I hope I haven’t woken you.’
‘Not at all. I’m up, but Zeena is still in bed.’
‘No worries, you can tell her what I’m going to tell you. I’ve found her a safe house. There were no suitable foster placements available, so I’m putting her in a women’s refuge for the time being. The refuge doesn’t normally take girls this young, but they’ve agreed to until I can find something more appropriate. I know this refuge. I’ve placed a woman there before. Zeena will be well looked after.’
‘Oh, I see,’ I said. ‘When is this happening?’
‘Today. Sorry it’s short notice, but I only had confirmation last night that they were prepared to take her. I’m in court today so a colleague of mine – Ursula – will collect Zeena at twelve. I’ve briefed Ursula and she’ll arrive in an unmarked police car. She won’t be in uniform, so ask to see her ID. She has your telephone number and will phone if she’s held up. Is Zeena packed?’
‘No, but she will be,’ I said. ‘Where is this women’s refuge?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you. It’s one of the conditions of being a resident that its location is kept a secret. Most of the women staying there have fled violent partners. I can tell you it’s about seventy miles from you, but don’t tell Zeena that or she may refuse to go. Ursula will tell her en route, after she’s emphasized how important it is that she doesn’t give her contact details to anyone, not even her best friend at school. Tara will be sorting out some schooling once she’s settled in.’
‘Can we phone Zeena?’ I asked.
‘Yes. And she can phone you. But obviously don’t disclose the number of her mobile to anyone.’
‘And she’s to take all her belongings with her?’ I asked. ‘Even though the refuge is only a temporary arrangement.’
‘Yes. She may be there for some weeks, and the next place we find her could be even further away. So you’ll have to say goodbye.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ I said.
‘Ursula will see you at twelve, then,’ Norma confirmed, winding up the call.
I replaced the handset and hurried upstairs to where Lucy and Paula were getting ready. The calm I’d felt on waking had now gone.
‘You’ll have to say goodbye to Zeena before you go,’ I said to them both. ‘She’s leaving at twelve, so she won’t be here when you return.’
‘What? She’s going today?’ Lucy asked, shocked.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh,’ Paula said, looking equally shocked. Having fostered for many years we were used to saying goodbye to the children who’d stayed with us, but never this abruptly and with so little time.
‘Come with me and I’ll wake Zeena so you can say goodbye,’ I said to Lucy and Paula. ‘Adrian can say goodbye when he gets up,’ I added, thinking out loud.
I knocked on Zeena’s bedroom door. ‘I’m awake,’ she called. ‘Come in.’
I opened her door. As soon as she saw the three of us with serious expressions she knew something was wrong.
‘What is it?’ she asked, sitting bolt upright in bed.
‘Norma just telephoned,’ I said. ‘She’s found you a safe house and you’re being collected at twelve o’clock.’
‘Oh! That soon?’ she said, and immediately got out of bed.
‘I have to go to work now,’ Lucy said. ‘So I need to say goodbye.’ I saw Zeena’s expression fall as Lucy went over and, encircling her in her arms, gave her a big hug. ‘Look after yourself,’ Lucy said. ‘And text me often. Every minute, if you like,’ she added, with a small laugh.
‘I will,’ Zeena said. ‘Thank you for sharing your home with me and making me feel so welcome. I won’t ever forget you.’
‘Of course you won’t. We’re going to stay in touch.’
‘I’ll miss you,’ Zeena said, her voice breaking.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ Lucy said. ‘I hate saying goodbye.’
I couldn’t see anything positive in prolonging their goodbye – they were both close to tears, and Lucy had to go to work – so I gently said, ‘You need to leave now. We’ll stay in touch and visit Zeena, or meet up somewhere very soon.’
‘Yes, we’ll meet soon,’ Lucy said, slowly letting her go. ‘Bye, take care.’
‘And you,’ Zeena said.
With a final hug Lucy turned and went out of the bedroom and downstairs. We heard the front door open and close but without a slam, and the silence was deafening.