Read Online Please Don't Take My Baby by Cathy Glass - Free Book Online
Authors: Cathy Glass
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Perhaps I should have heard alarm bells ringing, telling me that Jade was a little too eager to obtain a front-door key, but I didn’t. I agreed we’d get a key cut after we’d been to her house, and I reversed the car off the driveway with Jade taking a call from Tyler, which continued throughout the thirty-minute journey and only stopped when we arrived on her estate and I asked her where I should park.
Jade carried the holdall and I carried the suitcase, as I followed her down the series of short walkways that linked the estate. It was a modern estate of low-rise social housing with pedestrian-only access to the fronts of the houses and flats. Jade’s house was in the middle of a terrace. There was a large communal green and the front door was like most of the others on the estate: the same style and painted a similar blue. I waited to one side as Jade unlocked the door and then I followed her into a small square hall, which was full of children’s outdoor toys. This led into the living room, the one main room downstairs, and it contained more toys, a long low sofa, a glass-topped coffee table, some bean bags and a large plasma-screen television. Although the room was full of children’s things, it was clean and as tidy as you were likely to make it with four young children. I felt a bit uncomfortable being in Jade’s home when her mother was out, as though I was snooping.
‘Come up with me,’ Jade said, crossing the room to the open-plan carpeted staircase that led off the far side. ‘You can help me get my things.’
I went over and began up the stairs behind her. We were about halfway up when Jade suddenly stopped and exclaimed: ‘Mum! What are you doing here?’
I looked up at the woman now standing at the top of the stairs, who was fastening her dressing-gown cord.
‘I could ask you the same,’ she said, beginning down the stairs.
‘I’ve come to get me things,’ Jade said tersely.
The stairs weren’t wide enough for us to pass, especially with the holdall and suitcase Jade and I were carrying, so I turned and went downstairs. Jade did the same and her mother followed us into the sitting room, where there was an awkward silence.
‘I’m Cathy, Jade’s foster carer,’ I said after a moment, smiling at Jackie.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Jackie. Jade’s mother.’
I knew from the placement forms that Jackie was in her mid-thirties; she was about five feet six inches tall with highlighted hair. She was an attractive woman even without make-up and I could see a strong family likeness to Jade.
‘Why aren’t you at work?’ Jade asked, quite rudely.
‘I had a migraine,’ Jackie said, touching her forehead.
‘Are you all right now?’ I asked, concerned, for she looked pale.
‘Not too bad,’ she said; then she added pointedly, looking at Jade: ‘Thanks for asking.’
‘Who took the kids to school?’ Jade asked, or rather demanded.
‘Me. Who else?’ Jackie retorted.
‘Are you alone?’ Jade said, glancing up the stairs. From which I assumed Jackie’s boyfriend stayed sometimes and Jade didn’t approve.
‘I said I was ill, didn’t I?’ Jackie snapped back.
‘It hasn’t stopped you before,’ Jade said, scathingly.
‘You little cow!’ Jackie flared. ‘How dare you criticize me! Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? At least your father married me!’
Jade flinched at this remark, which seemed to have continued from a previous argument. I had the feeling that Jade and Jackie viewed each other as equals rather than mother and daughter; there was an undercurrent of unhealthy rivalry in their exchange.
‘I’m going to get me things,’ Jade said. Grabbing both cases, she stormed off towards the stairs. ‘You coming?’ she demanded of me.
‘You go ahead,’ I said. ‘And make a start with the packing while I speak to your mother.’ Jade huffed and stomped off upstairs.
I wanted to try to establish a relationship with Jackie; and also going with
Perhaps I should have heard alarm bells ringing, telling me that Jade was a little too eager to obtain a front-door key, but I didn’t. I agreed we’d get a key cut after we’d been to her house, and I reversed the car off the driveway with Jade taking a call from Tyler, which continued throughout the thirty-minute journey and only stopped when we arrived on her estate and I asked her where I should park.
Jade carried the holdall and I carried the suitcase, as I followed her down the series of short walkways that linked the estate. It was a modern estate of low-rise social housing with pedestrian-only access to the fronts of the houses and flats. Jade’s house was in the middle of a terrace. There was a large communal green and the front door was like most of the others on the estate: the same style and painted a similar blue. I waited to one side as Jade unlocked the door and then I followed her into a small square hall, which was full of children’s outdoor toys. This led into the living room, the one main room downstairs, and it contained more toys, a long low sofa, a glass-topped coffee table, some bean bags and a large plasma-screen television. Although the room was full of children’s things, it was clean and as tidy as you were likely to make it with four young children. I felt a bit uncomfortable being in Jade’s home when her mother was out, as though I was snooping.
‘Come up with me,’ Jade said, crossing the room to the open-plan carpeted staircase that led off the far side. ‘You can help me get my things.’
I went over and began up the stairs behind her. We were about halfway up when Jade suddenly stopped and exclaimed: ‘Mum! What are you doing here?’
I looked up at the woman now standing at the top of the stairs, who was fastening her dressing-gown cord.
‘I could ask you the same,’ she said, beginning down the stairs.
‘I’ve come to get me things,’ Jade said tersely.
The stairs weren’t wide enough for us to pass, especially with the holdall and suitcase Jade and I were carrying, so I turned and went downstairs. Jade did the same and her mother followed us into the sitting room, where there was an awkward silence.
‘I’m Cathy, Jade’s foster carer,’ I said after a moment, smiling at Jackie.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Jackie. Jade’s mother.’
I knew from the placement forms that Jackie was in her mid-thirties; she was about five feet six inches tall with highlighted hair. She was an attractive woman even without make-up and I could see a strong family likeness to Jade.
‘Why aren’t you at work?’ Jade asked, quite rudely.
‘I had a migraine,’ Jackie said, touching her forehead.
‘Are you all right now?’ I asked, concerned, for she looked pale.
‘Not too bad,’ she said; then she added pointedly, looking at Jade: ‘Thanks for asking.’
‘Who took the kids to school?’ Jade asked, or rather demanded.
‘Me. Who else?’ Jackie retorted.
‘Are you alone?’ Jade said, glancing up the stairs. From which I assumed Jackie’s boyfriend stayed sometimes and Jade didn’t approve.
‘I said I was ill, didn’t I?’ Jackie snapped back.
‘It hasn’t stopped you before,’ Jade said, scathingly.
‘You little cow!’ Jackie flared. ‘How dare you criticize me! Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? At least your father married me!’
Jade flinched at this remark, which seemed to have continued from a previous argument. I had the feeling that Jade and Jackie viewed each other as equals rather than mother and daughter; there was an undercurrent of unhealthy rivalry in their exchange.
‘I’m going to get me things,’ Jade said. Grabbing both cases, she stormed off towards the stairs. ‘You coming?’ she demanded of me.
‘You go ahead,’ I said. ‘And make a start with the packing while I speak to your mother.’ Jade huffed and stomped off upstairs.
I wanted to try to establish a relationship with Jackie; and also going with
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