‘And you were able to put new boundaries in place, which Beth accepted?’
‘Yes. She did. I felt I needed to do something to keep everyone safe. For example, John stopped going into Beth’s bedroom to say goodnight, but did so downstairs.’
Derek was now clearly itching to say something and Dr Jones turned to him. ‘Yes, Derek? Go ahead.’
‘I’m pleased Cathy is looking after Beth so well,’ Derek blurted, agitated. ‘But it makes me feel so inadequate.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘That certainly wasn’t my intention.’
‘Of course it wasn’t,’ Dr Jones said, then to Derek: ‘Would you like to expand on your comment?’
Derek looked at me and I met his gaze, uncomfortable though it was. I felt as though I was in a group therapy session as I’d seen in plays on the television.
‘Please don’t think I’m blaming you, Cathy,’ he began, ‘but when Beth tells me about all the fun things she does with you and your family, I feel awful, completely inadequate.’
‘What sort of things?’ Dr Jones asked Derek.
‘The lovely meals Cathy makes, the games she organizes and the family outings she takes all the children on. I feel like I’ve done nothing for Beth, and she’s my daughter. You have a lovely family,’ he said, now addressing me, ‘with a son and daughter and grandparents. I can’t offer Beth anything like that. It’s just her and me. I love her, but I’ve failed her miserably. She must hate me.’ I could see tears glistening in his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A New Friend
The room was silent for a moment as Dr Jones wrote.
‘Beth doesn’t hate you,’ I said gently to Derek.
‘She has every right to,’ Derek said, struggling to regain his composure.
I didn’t reply.
Dr Jones gave Derek a few moments to recover and then looked at me. ‘It’s been a very valuable experience for Beth, living with you, for a number of reasons. She’s been able to see what it’s like living in another family – a two-parent family. It’s set her thinking about her own family and she’s made some comparisons. I understand Beth mentioned her mother during the telephone conversation on Friday?’
‘Yes, she did,’ I said. ‘But it wasn’t in a positive way. What she said was designed to hurt her father and make him feel bad about the way he’s allowed her to dress.’
‘It’s significant, though,’ Dr Jones said, glancing at Derek. ‘Beth has never been allowed to mention her mother at home. Staying with you has allowed her to do that – by telephone.’
I didn’t fully appreciate the significance of Dr Jones’s comment, but Derek appeared to. ‘I know I’ve got to start talking to Beth about her mother,’ he said. ‘And show her some photographs.’
‘Has Beth ever seen a photograph of her mother?’ I asked.
Derek shook his head. ‘No. Never.’
‘Has Beth ever talked to you about her mother?’ Dr Jones now asked me.
I thought for a moment. ‘Not as far as I can remember. I don’t think she’s ever mentioned her.’
Dr Jones nodded and made a note. ‘Children need to grow up with a realistic image of their parents,’ he said, addressing us both. ‘If an absent parent is demonized by the parent left behind, or their existence ignored, the child can create all sorts of fanciful notions about the missing parent. If they believe they are bad, it is only a small step for the child to believe they are bad too, or that they were responsible for the parent leaving. It’s a huge burden for the child to carry, and very unhealthy.’
‘I know I need to talk to Beth about why her mother left,’ Derek said, revisiting something he’d previously discussed with Dr Jones. ‘I will, if I’m given the chance.’
Dr Jones gave a small nod. ‘Beth’s negative view of her mother also had an impact on her relationship with Marianne,’ he said, again looking at me. ‘It was one of the reasons Beth couldn’t form an attachment to Marianne; that, and viewing her as a rival. Living with you has shown Beth what a mother can be – a role she refused to let Marianne have.’ Again, I felt this was something Derek and Dr Jones had covered in a previous therapy session, for Derek nodded knowledgeably.
‘Beth has led quite an isolated life,’ I now felt confident enough to say. ‘By her age, children often have close friends who they see outside of school. They spend time in their friends’ homes, play outside or have their friends over. Beth would love to do this.’
Dr Jones looked to Derek for his response.
‘I know, and it’s something I need to address,’ he said.
‘Derek,’ I said tentatively. ‘How would you feel if I invited a friend of Beth’s to my house to play and maybe stay for some tea?’
I saw him tense. ‘Would Beth be invited back to that child’s house?’ he asked, as though this was a worry for him.
‘Possibly, although of course she doesn’t have to go.’
Dr Jones again looked to Derek for his reply.
Derek rubbed his hand over his forehead. ‘I know I’ve been over-protective, but I wanted to keep Beth safe. I also now realize I wanted to keep her just for me.’ He paused, then sat upright in his chair. ‘Yes,’ he said decisively. ‘Please invite a friend for Beth, and if she’s invited back she can go. As long as it’s not Jenni,’ he added. ‘Her mother hates me.’
‘It won’t be her,’ I said with a small smile.
Dr Jones looked at me questioningly. ‘Jenni’s mother can be rather outspoken and prejudiced about some things,’ I said. ‘Including a father bringing up his daughter alone.’ I decided there was no point in mentioning all the other issues Jenni’s mother had with Derek, like his mental health, as it wouldn’t have been helpful. ‘I don’t think Beth is particularly friendly with Jenni any more,’ I added, for Derek’s benefit.
‘That’s a relief,’ he said. At that moment I felt the atmosphere in the room lift slightly, as though Derek was at last beginning to trust me and view me as an ally, rather than a threat to his parenting.
The session continued with Dr Jones returning to the importance of setting boundaries for children, and also establishing routines. He asked me for my opinion and to give some practical examples of how this could be achieved, which I assumed was for Derek’s benefit. At eleven o’clock Dr Jones drew the session to a close and thanked me very much for my input. ‘We may ask you to join us again,’ he said.
‘Yes, of course.’
I said goodbye to Derek, and Dr Jones showed me to the door. I left the hospital with my thoughts racing over all the issues we’d talked about. Some of my impressions of Derek had been confirmed during the therapy session; he was needy, isolated and desperate to hold on to Beth. But he’d also come across as wanting to protect her. However, in so doing he’d fulfilled his own needs at the expense of hers. Derek had appeared sincere in his commitment to change, but whether that made him any less guilty or increased his chances of having Beth returned to him I’d no idea. What complicated and troubled lives some people lead, I thought as I drove home, and sometimes through no fault of their own. Again I was very grateful for the uncomplicated and rewarding life I had, with two loving parents, a devoted husband and two adorable children.
Kay offered me a cup of coffee when I arrived to collect Paula, which I readily accepted. I stayed for about half an hour and then I returned home and made Paula and myself some lunch. In the afternoon we went to the mother and toddler group, and from there we went straight to school to collect Adrian and Beth. Both children came out looking forward to the weekend, and also the county swimming competition the following day. Many of the other parents had bought tickets so that they and their children could see the event and support the school team.
‘I hope our school wins at least one trophy,’ Adrian said.
‘They will with you swimming,’ Beth said, which was kind of her.
Beth’s telephone contact that evening was the best so far. Perhaps because Derek had met me and aired some of t
he issues that had been bothering him, or had simply been reassured by meeting me, I didn’t know. He sounded far more relaxed and, I thought, more self-assured when he talked to Beth. Even when Beth asked him if Marianne was still there, he replied confidently that she was, and that she was helping him, so there was no need for Beth to worry.
‘But I should be there looking after you,’ Beth said, her face setting.
‘No, you shouldn’t,’ Derek said. ‘You should be playing. That’s what children do. Has Cathy asked that friend back to tea yet?’
I hadn’t – with all that had been going through my thoughts since I’d left the hospital it had slipped to the back of my mind. ‘I haven’t yet, Derek,’ I said, loud enough for him to hear over the speakerphone. ‘But I will soon.’
Beth looked at me incredulously, and then disbelief set in. ‘Can I really have a friend to tea?’ she asked her father.
‘Yes. If Cathy says it’s all right,’ Derek said.
Beth looked at me again and I nodded.
‘Thanks, Dad!’ she cried.
‘You’re welcome, precious,’ Derek said, and I could hear the emotion in his voice.
Beth wound up their conversation pretty quickly after that, as she was eager to start making the arrangements to invite a friend home, nearly forgetting to say goodbye to her father, she was so excited. And who could blame her? It wasn’t just that Beth’s father had finally agreed to her inviting a friend home to tea – exciting for children anyway – but that in so doing Derek had taken a big step towards normalizing Beth’s childhood, and Beth knew that.
‘I’ll be just like all my friends!’ she declared. She threw her arms around me and gave me the biggest hug ever.
‘So all you have to do now is to decide which friend to ask,’ I said.
Did I say ‘all you have to do’? This turned out to be rather a lengthy business, and Beth deliberated most of the evening, deciding on one friend and then a few minutes later changing her mind and deciding on someone else. I think she named most of her class at some point – girls and boys – even suggesting Jenni, although she changed her mind. Finally, at bedtime, Beth announced, ‘Cathy, I know who I’m going to ask to tea, and I won’t change my mind this time.’
‘Yes?’ I asked, a little wearily.
‘April. I’d like April to come to tea.’
‘Oh. That’s fine,’ I said, slightly surprised. Beth had mentioned April in the past, but they didn’t seem especially close friends. April was a sweet child whose parents were from Japan. I understood they’d settled here after arriving on a work contract. I didn’t know the family – I was on nodding terms with April’s mother, but I’d never actually spoken to her. ‘Is there any particular reason for choosing April?’ I asked as Beth climbed into bed.
‘April’s nice,’ she said. ‘She’s always nice to everyone. But no one invites her to play or to their birthday parties. I think it’s because she’s different. She eats different food.’
‘No worries,’ I said. ‘I’ll see April’s mother at school on Monday and we’ll arrange a date. I’ll also ask her what April likes to eat. It’s not a problem.’
Beth was so excited that night that she needed Mr Sleep Bear to get her off to sleep. ‘Thanks, Cathy,’ she said as I finally kissed her goodnight and came out of her room. ‘Thanks for making my dreams come true.’
My eyes immediately filled. This was just a child coming to play and have some tea – something my own children had done since they were toddlers – but it meant so much to Beth. ‘You’re very welcome,’ I said. ‘Sweet dreams.’ And I drew her door to.
When I went into Adrian’s room I found him sitting up in bed and looking worried. ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked, perching on his bed.
‘Suppose I’m rubbish at swimming tomorrow?’ he said, fretfully. ‘Suppose I come last and let the school down?’
‘I’m sure you won’t come last,’ I said. ‘But someone has to. And if it is you, you’ll have done your best. Remember, it’s the fun of being involved in the competition that counts, not the winning.’
He gave a small nod, but didn’t look any less worried. ‘Suppose Dad doesn’t arrive on time?’ he now asked.
I could see that Adrian – over-tired – was starting to worry about everything.
‘He will,’ I said. ‘Now stop worrying and go off to sleep. Everything will be all right in the morning.’
He finally snuggled down, and I read to him until he dropped off to sleep.
The following morning we were all up and dressed earlier than usual for a Saturday – in plenty of time for what had become known as Adrian’s Big Day. I cooked breakfast and then suggested to the children that they went into the garden to play as it was warm and sunny, but that they should try not to get messy as we would be going out in a couple of hours. I got the bikes, tricycles, bats and balls out of the shed, but I left the sand pit covered. They played in the garden while I cleared up the breakfast things, but Adrian kept popping in to see if his father had arrived yet.
‘I’ll tell you when he’s here,’ I said. ‘I’m sure he won’t be long.’
However, I must admit I was relieved when at 11.15 – an hour before we needed to leave – I heard the front door open and John call, ‘I’m home! Where is everyone?’
I went into the hall and hugged him. ‘The children are in the garden,’ I said. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’
As I filled the kettle John went into the garden. I glanced out of the kitchen window and saw Adrian spot him first. ‘You’re here! Daddy’s here!’ he shouted. He ran up the garden path and into his arms.
‘Of course I’m here,’ John said. ‘You surely didn’t think your dad would let you down?’
‘No, of course not!’ Adrian said, and neither had I.
I made John coffee and then the egg on toast he wanted. At 12.15 we all piled into his car and headed for the county swimming baths where the competition was to be held. The car park was already filling with parents from schools all over the county bringing their children to compete. I took Adrian into reception, where his swimming teacher signed him in and other members of the team were waiting. I wished them luck and then returned outside, as spectators weren’t allowed in for another half an hour. The county baths were surrounded by shrubs and occasionally mown grass. John and I sat on the lawn and chatted while the girls ran around picking daisies and dandelions, and looking for four-leafed clovers. John talked about his work and I told him about my week, including the therapy session I’d attended with Derek and Dr Jones. None of what we said was earth-shattering news, just the stuff that makes up our daily lives and that partners like to share with each other.
Presently the doors to the baths opened and, brushing off the grass, we joined the queue filing in. Inside the baths the air was hot and humid. We sat, third row back, in the tiered seating around the pool. The noise level grew as the seats filled and spectators chatted excitedly until it was time for the competition to start. The organizer blew his whistle and asked for quiet. The girls sat forward in their seats, looking for Adrian, and I explained he would be waiting with his team somewhere out of sight until it was time for his races. The organizer introduced the Major, who was guest of honour, and passed the microphone to him. He welcomed us and thanked us all for coming and then declared the competition should begin. The younger children’s races were first – three- and four-year-olds. They were so cute as they walked in and appeared very tiny as they swam their widths in the shallow end. Adrian’s first heat was the 50-metre freestyle, and that came after about twenty minutes. We cheered when he and his competitors walked in, as did the rest of the audience. The swimmers took up their positions along the edge of the pool, and the organizer called for silence. He blew his whistle and the swimmers dived into the water and swam for all they were worth. We shouted encouragement and cheered at the tops of our voices. They completed one length, turned and swam back again to finish the race. Adrian came a respectabl
e third and we all clapped and cheered again as he climbed out of the water and then disappeared into the waiting area. I didn’t know if Adrian had seen us; there were so many people in the audience, we must have appeared a sea of faces from the pool.
Adrian swam again in the mixed-stroke relay and his team came second, which was a fantastic achievement for the school. Other heats followed, finishing with the older children – fourteen- to sixteen-year-olds – in a 200-metre freestyle. At the end of the competition the Major gave a congratulatory speech and then presented the trophies, medals and ribbons. Our school won a trophy and six medals, one of which went to Adrian for coming third. Each child participating was given a royal-blue ribbon to commemorate the day, so no child left empty-handed.
We met up with Adrian outside. ‘Well done,’ I said, giving him a big kiss. For once he didn’t rub it off.
‘Well done, son,’ John said, clearly proud and ruffling his hair.
Adrian beamed as he showed us his medal and ribbon. Then he said he was starving hungry and rubbed his growling stomach. ‘Burger and chips, please, Mum,’ he said.
On the way home we stopped off at a fast-food restaurant, and that night Adrian didn’t have any problem going to sleep – he was exhausted and also very happy with his achievement. John had to leave again on Sunday evening, but I was pleased he’d made it home in good time for Adrian’s swimming competition and consoled myself that he wouldn’t be working away forever. ‘No more than a year,’ John said.
On Monday morning – from when I woke Beth, to leaving the house for school – she reminded me every five minutes that I needed to ask April’s mother if April could come to tea. I could see that Adrian and Paula didn’t know what to make of Beth’s continual fussing, so I took them aside, and out of earshot of Beth, I explained that she was very excited because she’d never had a friend home before.