Daddy’s Little Princess and Will You Love Me 2-in-1 Collection. Cathy Glass

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      On Monday morning I was standing in the playground with Paula waiting for school to start when Jenni’s mother approached me. I hadn’t got back to her about Beth going to her house for tea and I was rather hoping that the invitation had been forgotten. Beth hadn’t been asking to go – indeed, she hadn’t mentioned it at all – and given the upset I’d already caused Derek I was reluctant to ask him for permission and risk upsetting him further.

      ‘Hi. You remember me?’ Jenni’s mother asked with a smile.

      ‘Yes, of course,’ I said, returning her smile. ‘Beth often talks about Jenni and the games they’ve played during their lunch break.’ However, Beth also talked of other children, so I’d formed the impression that perhaps Jenni wasn’t the special friend her mother thought her to be, but more one of a group of friends. I was now anticipating another invitation for Beth to go to tea, but instead Jenni’s mother asked quite brusquely, ‘Is he still in hospital, then?’

      ‘Derek? Yes, he is at present. But he should be home soon.’

      ‘Aren’t they keeping him in?’ she now asked. I was starting to feel uncomfortable with the bluntness of her questions. Thankfully Beth and Jenni were standing to one side and talking to Paula, so I doubted they could hear.

      ‘He should be discharged soon,’ I confirmed, not wanting to get drawn into a discussion about Derek.

      She raised her eyes upwards in exasperation. ‘It’s not right, is it?’ she said. ‘I mean, a man like him bringing up a girl alone. Bad enough before he went loopy, but now! Don’t you think something should be done about it? I do!’

      As a foster carer I was used to deflecting personal questions about the children I fostered. I was also used to hearing derogatory comments, but never before had I heard something so blatantly prejudiced and cruel.

      ‘Done about it?’ I queried, trying to kerb the hostility in my tone. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

      ‘Well, he’s not all there, is he?’ Jenni’s mother said. ‘That’s why he’s been locked up. He shouldn’t be in charge of a child. It’s not right.’

      I was quietly seething. ‘Derek certainly is “all there”,’ I said. ‘And by all accounts he’s done a very good job of raising his daughter alone. I doubt I would have coped as well.’

      ‘So why is he in the funny farm, then?’ Jenni’s mother persisted.

      I thought there was nothing to be gained by continuing this conversation with someone expressing such bigoted views, and it wouldn’t be long before Beth and Jenni overheard. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said tightly. ‘I really can’t discuss Derek with you, but I think some sympathy wouldn’t go amiss. The poor man is in hospital.’

      ‘Exactly,’ Jenni’s mother said. ‘A mental hospital!’

      I turned away and pretended to adjust the zipper on Paula’s coat as a displacement for what I really wanted to say. For a moment I thought she was going to say something else about Derek or mental illness – something probably just as disparaging as her previous comments – but instead she said to her daughter, ‘Come along, Jenni.’

      ‘But I want to stay and talk to Beth,’ Jenni moaned.

      I kept my head down and concentrated on Paula’s zipper.

      ‘Do as you’re told,’ Jenni’s mother said firmly, and taking her daughter by the hand she led her away.

      I straightened and watched her cross the playground to stand with another mother and her child. She immediately began talking animatedly to the other woman, gesticulating with her hands. I could tell from her body language she was annoyed and I could easily guess with whom. Shortly, both women looked over at me and I knew I was the subject of playground gossip just as Derek had been.

      The klaxon sounded for the start of school and I said goodbye to Adrian and Beth. ‘Have a good day,’ I called after them.

      They waved as they ran to join their classes.

      I drove home, angry with Jenni’s mother and her heartless attitude. There is so much ignorance and prejudice surrounding mental illness; I hoped she didn’t express her venomous thoughts to her daughter, as it could affect her friendship with Beth.

      My hope was short-lived.

      That afternoon, when Beth came out of school, she was quieter than usual. I asked her a few times during the rest of the day if she was all right and she nodded and said she was. She perked up a bit to speak to her father but at seven o’clock, it was only at bedtime, when I asked Beth again if she was worrying about anything, that she said, ‘I don’t think I’m going to be friends with Jenni any more.’

      ‘Oh? Why is that?’ I asked.

      ‘She said some nasty things about my daddy. They upset me and I wanted to cry, but I didn’t.’

      ‘What sort of things?’ I asked gently. ‘Can you tell me?’

      Beth was sitting up in bed and I perched on the edge, facing her, and took her hand.

      ‘Jenni said my daddy has something wrong in his head and he has been locked up,’ Beth said, her little face very sad. ‘Jenni said he shouldn’t be allowed to look after me because he’s a nutter.’

      I knew where that had come from. You couldn’t blame Jenni. At her age she was just repeating what she’d heard at home. Beth’s eyes had filled and she was now looking at me for reassurance.

      ‘What Jenni said was very rude and also utter rubbish,’ I said forcefully. ‘You visited your daddy last Friday. You saw he was in a hospital, being made better. He wasn’t locked up, was he?’

      Beth shook her head. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I should have told Jenni that, but I was too upset. I just walked away.’

      ‘Sometimes children say things they don’t understand,’ I said. ‘I think that’s what Jenni did. But it was probably best you didn’t get into an argument and just walked away. That’s what I would have done.’

      ‘My daddy tells me not to argue,’ Beth said sadly.

      ‘He’s right,’ I said.

      ‘Will I be allowed to live with my daddy again?’ Beth now asked.

      ‘Yes, of course, love. As soon as he is well and has left hospital.’

      Beth paused thoughtfully and then asked, ‘What is the matter with my daddy? I know he’s ill, but how is he ill? What’s the matter with him?’

      Beth had asked her father this question on the telephone when she’d first arrived, and he’d told her that things had been getting on top of him, and then he’d burst into tears and had had to cut short the call. Jessie had never told me exactly what was wrong with Derek, but from what I knew I’d assumed he’d had a mental breakdown.

      ‘Sometimes adults can become very unhappy,’ I said to Beth. ‘It’s called depression. Things start to get on top of them, sometimes little things upset them, and they keep crying. So they go to the doctors or the hospital СКАЧАТЬ