‘Hello, Mrs Glass, I am Mr Ondura, Tayo’s father.’
Tears leapt to my eyes again and I tripped over the words I was trying to get out. ‘Oh … hello! Oh, hello. I’m so pleased you’ve called. So pleased. Really. Tayo is sitting next to me. I’ll put him on now.’
I passed the phone to Tayo and watched his expression. If I’d ever had doubts about the joys of fostering, they were dispelled in that instant. His face shone and his eyes glistened as he spoke the words neither of us had ever thought he’d say.
‘Hello, Dad, my daddy,’ he said evenly. ‘Thank you for phoning me.’
Adrian, Lucy and Paula appeared at the lounge door. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as we watched Tayo. We couldn’t hear what his father said but could guess from the replies. Tayo sat proud and upright with the phone to his ear and answered his father’s questions, then relaxed a little and made conversation.
Strictly speaking, I should have supervised the phone call but after five minutes, as there were no issues with his speaking with his father, I left the lounge door open and came out to give them some privacy. Adrian, Paula and Lucy left too. For the next hour, as Tayo spoke on the phone, I wandered in and out of the lounge occasionally, just to make sure Tayo was all right and coping with all the emotion.
Tayo and his father clearly had a lot of catching up to do and from what I could hear, Mr Ondura was playing it just right. Their talk had started off light as he asked Tayo about his school, hobbies, the food he liked, and his life with us. Tayo then listened as his father told him of his life at home and the search that had led to him finding him. I heard Tayo ask if he was married with ‘kids’ and from his reply I guessed the answer was no.
‘So there’s just me then?’ Tayo said. And I was pleased because Tayo needed spoiling, he deserved it, and I felt sure his father would more than make up the lost five years.
An hour passed and I dreaded to think how much the call was costing Mr Ondura, but from what I’d heard so far from Sandra and Tayo, his father sounded well off by any standard, so I was sure he could afford it.
Tayo’s voice dropped and became more subdued as he talked about some of the things that had happened to him since he’d disappeared from school in Nigeria on that fateful afternoon. His father must have asked him if he knew where his mother was because Tayo said, ‘I don’t know. She hasn’t got an address. No one knows.’ I also noticed how respectful Tayo had become in his tone and language as he spoke to his father; at one point he even called him sir.
After almost an hour and a half on the phone, Tayo called me. ‘Cathy, Dad would like to talk you if it’s convenient.’ It was the old Tayo, polite and formal, even though I knew he was repeating his father’s words.
I went into the lounge and took the receiver while Tayo hovered. ‘Good evening, Mr Ondura,’ I said, with a bit more composure than the last time I’d spoken to him.
‘Good evening, Mrs Glass. It is a real pleasure to make your acquaintance. Let me begin by thanking you from the bottom of my heart for looking after my son. It is an enormous relief to know he is safe and well at last. You can’t begin to imagine what I have gone through in the years since he was taken. I was coming to the conclusion that he must be dead, then he was found, thanks to your Social Services.’
It was the first time I’d ever heard a parent praising the Social Services for taking their child into care, but of course Mr Ondura was seeing it from an entirely different viewpoint. Not only had the care system been Tayo’s salvation, it had also made Tayo ‘visible’, allowing his father to find him.
‘I understand from Miss Braxley, Tayo’s social worker,’ he continued, ‘that my son can be quite strong willed. He always was but I have made it clear to Tayo that while you are looking after him he will do as you say.’ I glanced at Tayo who was looking slightly apprehensive, and I smiled.
‘He’s a good boy,’ I said. ‘And to be honest, I’m amazed at how well he’s coped, considering everything.’
‘That makes me very proud, thank you, Mrs Glass.’ I heard his voice break with emotion before he quickly recovered. ‘I have spoken to Miss Braxley a number of times today,’ he continued. ‘There is much to address in respect of the legal situation. I have said I want my son home to live with me where he belongs as soon as possible. I will not stop until I have achieved that goal. I know my son wants to return.’
‘He does. Very much,’ I confirmed. ‘But I have explained to Tayo that it will take some months, possibly six or more before everything is complete.’
‘That is what Miss Braxley said, but I have told her we must do everything to try and speed things up. Tayo has had uncertainty for long enough. Miss Braxley was talking about postponing the final court hearing in October but I have asked her to leave it as it is for now – perhaps we can still make that date. I am in business and have little understanding of child care proceedings but I am learning fast, and I believe that if everyone pulls their fingers out, it is possible.’
It was strange hearing that English colloquialism from a well educated, perfectly enunciated, slightly accented voice, but I wondered if he was being over optimistic. Even if everyone connected with Tayo’s case did, as he said, pull their fingers out there was still a lot to do, not least of which was the Social Services visit to Nigeria to assess Mr Ondura and his mother.
‘To this end,’ he continued, ‘my lawyer is already speaking with the Social Services legal department, and I shall see them next week when I visit.’
‘You’re coming next week?’ I looked at Tayo who was nodding furiously.
‘Yes, I am booked on a flight for this Sunday. I have told Tayo. I shall arrive in the evening at nine o’clock and I have asked Miss Braxley to arrange for me to see my son on Monday. On this one occasion I should like Tayo to be taken out of school for the day. I assure you I shall not be making a habit of it but I think in this instance I can be forgiven.’
‘Undoubtedly,’ I said. ‘Tayo wouldn’t be able to concentrate anyway, knowing you are in the country.’
‘Precisely. I can see we are of the same mind. There is a Hilton hotel about twenty minutes from your town, I believe. I have reserved a room there and will use the taxis to get around.’
Struth, I thought, impressed. He really hasn’t wasted any time! But then, he’s been waiting for five years for this. He probably knew exactly what he’d do when Tayo was found.
Mr Ondura said, ‘Now, if I could say goodnight to my son I won’t keep you any longer. It is getting late and I think it must be past his bed time.’
‘Of course.’
‘And, Mrs Glass, let me finish as I started by thanking you. I am looking forward to meeting you, you are doing an incredible job and my mother sends her warmest wishes too. She will speak to Tayo on the phone when I am there. It has all been a bit much for her and she is resting at present.’
‘I understand, thank you, Mr Ondura. I’ll pass you to Tayo now.’
Tayo sat on the sofa again and I handed him the phone. ‘Goodnight, Dad,’ he said, then there was a pause and his face opened to a huge smile as he added, ‘and don’t let the bed bugs bite.’ The phrase that had begun all those years ago with his gran tucking him into bed had gone full circle and found its way home again.
He replaced the receiver and snuggled into my side. I put my arm round him and he buried his head in my shoulder and sobbed again. ‘I’m sorry, Cathy,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry for being so horrible to you and your family.’
‘It’s OK,’ I said, reaching for a tissue. ‘You’ve been through a lot. We understand, and I know you’ll be fine now.’
‘Yes, I will,’ he said, raising his head to blow his nose. ‘Fine, really really fine.’
‘Tayo, I think the best thing now is bed. You must be exhausted and I know I am.’
I eased him from the sofa and led him upstairs. I waited on the landing while he quickly washed and changed and then got into bed. A warm summer breeze wafted through the open window and
a nearly full moon shone between the parted curtains.
‘It’s funny to think my dad is seeing the same moon,’ he said. ‘All those miles away. I used to think about that a lot.’
‘Did you, love?’ I sat on the bed and stroked his hair.
‘All the time I’ve been away from him I thought he was out there somewhere looking up at that moon and thinking of me.’
‘Well, you were right weren’t you?’ He smiled and yawned. ‘Now, off to sleep. You haven’t got school again tomorrow so you can have a lie in. Sandra is coming at some point, and you’re seeing your mother in the evening.’
He suddenly looked concerned. ‘What do you think she’ll say about my dad?’
‘I don’t know, why? Are you worried?’
‘Sort of. I think she’ll be angry.’
‘Possibly, but not with you. And Sandra will know how to handle it. Don’t you worry, just be happy, OK.’
‘Will you say sorry to Adrian, Lucy and Paula for me? Sorry I was so horrible.’
‘I will.’ I stood up and kissed his forehead, his eyes were already closing. ‘Night night, sleep tight.’
‘And don’t let the bed bugs bite,’ he said sleepily, then added, ‘my gran will say that to me again soon.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Arrangements
Far from having a lie in the next morning, Tayo was up before the girls left for school and college. ‘Sorry for being such a pig,’ he said as they collected their bags from the hall and prepared to leave.
‘You’re forgiven,’ they said in turn and gave him a hug.
‘You guys coming to visit me in Nigeria?’ he asked.
‘Yeah!’ Lucy and Paula readily agreed.
‘We’ll see,’ I said, not wishing to dampen anyone’s enthusiasm but being realistic. ‘It’s a nice thought though.’ And it was.
I kept Tayo occupied with little jobs in the garden for the rest of the morning. He liked helping and doing what he called ‘man’s work’. He pruned a couple of bushes for me, sawed up a small log and then swept the patio. None of the jobs was urgent but it gave him something to do. We had a sandwich lunch with Adrian, who’d come down to find a letter from Tesco confirming they would be employing him again for the summer. He was pleased, as student jobs seemed to be increasingly difficult to secure; many of his friends hadn’t been able to find anything this year.
Sandra arrived shortly after one, and Tayo came in from the garden as soon as he heard her voice through the open French windows. She didn’t have to ask him how the phone call from his father had gone, because he began telling her without pausing for breath. She listened patiently, her face mirroring Tayo’s in delight and enthusiasm. He finally ran out of breath with, ‘That’s right, isn’t it? He is coming on Sunday?’
Sandra said, ‘Yes, and you will see him at twelve-thirty on Monday. At Headline.’
‘Oh,’ Tayo moaned. ‘Can’t he take me out? He wants to play football with me, and go to the cinema, and the castle.’ The castle was a ruin about half an hour’s drive from the town and I’d taken Tayo to see it the month before, but clearly it would be a whole new experience to have his father there.
‘Your dad will be able to take you out later in the week,’ Sandra said. ‘But Monday’s contact will be at Headline, and I shall be there as well. He’ll come to my office first, because we have lots of thing to discuss, and papers and forms to exchange and complete, then I’ll bring him to Headline and you’ll see him for two hours. If it all goes well, which I’m sure it will, he can take you out during the week. You don’t mind missing some school, do you?’
Does a duck mind water? Tayo shook his head vigorously.
‘As you know,’ Sandra continued, smiling, ‘he’s staying for the week and I’ve left a message with the secretary at your school to say you won’t be in Monday, Wednesday or Thursday, because you’re seeing your father. You will also see your dad for the whole of next Saturday and Sunday.’
‘Why not Tuesday and Friday?’ Tayo asked, frowning.
I knew the answer.
Sandra said, ‘Because that’s when you see your mother and my manager has agreed with me that it would be too much for you to see your father all day and your mum in the evening.’
Tayo opened his mouth to protest but he didn’t say anything. I could see him thinking it through and while he would have liked to see his father every day, he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to abandon his mother for the week. Despite all her failings, she was his mother and until the court decided otherwise, Minty was entitled to see her son as set down in the Care Order.
‘He can phone you on the Tuesday and Friday,’ Sandra added.
‘Will he be allowed to come here to collect me?’ Tayo asked. ‘I want to show him my bedroom and all my things.’
‘As long as Cathy agrees,’ Sandra said, looking at me.
‘Yes. There aren’t any concerns, are there?’
‘No. We’ve run a police check and it’s clear.’
‘Police check?’ Tayo picked this up immediately, ever astute.
‘It’s a formality,’ Sandra said. ‘We do it with everyone who comes into contact with children. Now, Tayo, you must be patient. I’m sure you’ve thought about this already, but when your dad returns to Nigeria, it’s going to be a bit sad for you. You won’t be seeing him again until the court case, although you’ll speak on the phone of course.’
‘October!’ Tayo cried. ‘That’s only three months to go!’ It was nearer four but I didn’t correct him. ‘And then I’ll go home with him?’
‘I hope so. We’ll do our very best, I promise,’ Sandra said. She gave Tayo a hug and stood ready to leave. ‘I’m sorry I must go, I’ve so much to do and I want to see Minty before contact tonight at Headline. I’ve left a message on her phone asking her to get there half an hour early. See you later Tayo.’
I walked with her down the hall with Tayo hopping and skipping beside us. Before I opened the door Sandra paused and looked again at Tayo. ‘There is one thing I wanted to ask you. You know your surname, Mezer? When did you start using it?’
Tayo stopped bouncing up and down and was suddenly still and on guard, his old protective instinct kicking in. ‘Why?’ he said.
‘I’m curious. Because your real surname is Ondura, that’s what’s on your birth certificate. It’s not a problem, I just wondered why you didn’t tell me or Cathy.’
His face clouded. ‘My mum said it wasn’t Ondura. I asked her when we came to this country because at my school in Nigeria I was always Ondura. Mum said I’d made it up and got very angry. I believed her because there were lots of other things I thought I’d remembered about my life before but she said it was all lies and I wasn’t to say it again.’ He paused, and looked carefully at Sandra. ‘If I’d told you, it would have helped find my dad sooner, wouldn’t it?’
‘No,’ Sandra lied. ‘I doubt it.’
Though in truth, we would never know.
‘Who the fuck does he think he is! Wait till I get my hands on him! I’ll fucking kill him!’
Minty’s voice could be heard raging through the centre. That answered any questions we’d had about how she would take the news that Tayo’s father had been found.
Tayo stood close to me, subdued. Who did his mother want to kill this time? His father or Tayo himself? We stayed where we were in reception, and I kept the door open behind me in case we had to make a quick escape.
Aisha appeared from the corridor. ‘Wait there a moment,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘I’ll tell them you’re here. James and Sandra are trying to calm Minty down.’
She went back down the corridor and I looked at Tayo who had visibly paled.
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured him. ‘We won’t stay if Mum doesn’t calm down.’
‘I don’t want to stay,’ he said. ‘She’s been drinking, I can hear it in her voice.’
I didn’t doubt what Tayo said, as he’d lived with her long enough to know the signs, even if Sandra
and James didn’t. We waited, the shouting stopped, five minutes passed and then Aisha reappeared.
‘We’re not going ahead with contact tonight,’ she said. ‘Your mother is all right now, Tayo, but Sandra thinks it’s best to leave it until Tuesday. You can phone her as usual tomorrow.’
‘She’s drunk,’ Tayo said.
Aisha looked at me and didn’t know what to say.
‘You can tell him,’ I said. ‘Tayo thought he heard something in her voice.’
‘It’s possible,’ Aisha said. ‘She’s had some water now and we’re going to pay for a taxi to take her home.’
Tayo shrugged dismissively and turned ready to leave. ‘See you next Tuesday,’ I said to Aisha. Tayo and I left. He said nothing until we were in the car again returning home.
‘What do you think will happen to her when I go for good?’ he asked, concerned.
I caught his gaze in the rear-view mirror. ‘I know you love your mum, but please try not to worry. Your mother is an adult and adults can take care of themselves. It’s not a child’s responsibility.’
My reassurance sounded hollow to my ears, as I’m sure it did to Tayo’s. The clear evidence was that Minty wasn’t functioning as a responsible adult and she had needed Tayo to take care of her when he was with her.
But he had to grasp his own chance of happiness – Minty had had her own chances, whatever they had been. Tayo was the important one now.
Saturday morning football provided a good two-hour diversion for Tayo, and afterwards he was more than happy to share his triumphs with me. When we phoned Minty’s mobile that evening she didn’t answer, so Tayo left a message.
‘Hello, Mum. I hope you’re feeling better. You know I worry about you. When I see you on Tuesday, please be OK. I love my dad and I want to live with him, but I love you too. Bye.’
I could have wept.
We went to my parents’ house for Sunday dinner. They’d built up quite a relationship with Tayo and were fond of him and were delighted to hear his news. That visit took care of most of the day, so that by the time we arrived home, stuffed full of homemade puddings and cake, it was bath and bed time for Tayo. It had been another lovely summer’s day and the sky was still light at nearly nine when I tucked Tayo into bed. He wanted his curtains left open so he could see the moon.