I kept my head down, focussing only on the sound of my fingers on the keyboard tapping out the fate of yet another family. The light flickered above my head, the bulb threatening to blow at any point.
“Shouldn’t you be going home now, Suzanne?” said Hilary, looking up briefly from her own screen.
I glanced at the clock; it was seven-thirty, although it felt much later to me. I was mentally and physically exhausted after the events of the day. The TV Today interview had been a complete disaster. Annie was pissed. I was humiliated. All in all, not a success.
“I need to get this pre-birth for the O’Connells finished, and I’m nearly there.” I continued to touch type as my eyes followed the words on the screen.
In conclusion, it is the recommendation of the Local Authority that Baby O’Connell is placed under an Interim Care Order, in order to safeguard his or her welfare, while further assessments into the capabilities of Mr and Mrs O’Connell are undertaken.
That was it; one damning sentence that would see their baby removed from them within hours of the birth.
“What are we going with as the long-term plan?” asked Hilary, as she sipped on what must by then have been a pretty cold coffee.
I cleared my throat as I read the next sentence out loud.
Should Mr and Mrs O’Connell fail to make the necessary changes within appropriate timescales for Baby O’Connell, the Local Authority will seek to acquire a full care order and present the case to panel to put forward Baby O’Connell for the adoption process.
“Good. Make sure you add in about parallel planning, that we will start looking at adoption as an option as soon as possible so as not to cause delay for the child.”
I grimaced. I hated adding that bit. It was as if we were saying to parents, “Hey, we’re giving you a chance to turn it around, but not really, because we’re already planning to have your baby adopted.”
I finished the report and emailed it over to the solicitor, copying Hilary in so that she knew it was done.
“Well done, Suzanne. Now, go on home to your daughter. It’s getting late, and it’s been a long day.”
My heart sank … Teigan. On top of the nasty row that morning, which felt like a lifetime ago following the shitty events of the rest of the day, I had left her on her own for several hours after school. She was only fourteen, after all, although she was approaching fifteen quicker than I liked to believe. I reassured myself that Teigan wouldn’t have wanted to spend the evening with me, anyway. She was probably relishing the time alone to moan to her friends about her horrible mother. Even so, it was time to get home.
I walked in the door at 8:00 on the dot, feeling emotionally drained. It had been a hard day and an even harder week. I trudged through to the kitchen, my body feeling as heavy as my heart. I noticed straight away that Teigan’s washing was still on the clotheshorse. I sighed.
Nothing had been touched in the kitchen; everything was as it was that morning. She’d probably had McDonald’s in the city with her friends again. My own stomach started to rumble at the thought of food. I realised that I hadn’t gotten around to eating my lunch, again. I rummaged through the fridge and found a salmon fishcake that was going out of date. That’d do. I shoved it in the oven.
I peeled the Norfolk & Norwich festival leaflets off the fridge and took them upstairs with me. It was my best bet of getting back on track with Teigan. As I reached the top of the stairs, I could see the light from her lamp shining through the gap under her door.
“Teigan?”
I knocked softly on the door. There was no sound from the room, apart from the annoyingly catchy melody of Justin Bieber. She would hit the shuffle and repeat button on her Bieber Spotify playlist, and his songs would play constantly until she shut the laptop down. It was enough to drive anyone mad.
“Teig?”
I could picture her, lying on her bed, scrolling through her phone making a point of ignoring me. There was no point trying to walk in, as the door would be locked, as usual. I had gone back and forth with the decision to allow Teigan a lock on her bedroom door. Most parents of teenagers would balk at the idea. “But they could be doing anything in there!” They had a point, but they hadn’t had my childhood. I knew better than most the importance of feeling safe and secure, knowing without doubt that no unwanted person was going to invade your space without your consent. Plus, it showed Teigan that I trusted her, something teenagers deeply appreciate.
“Teig?” I called and knocked one more time, wondering if she was smirking away in there at the power she was wielding. She knew I’d be anxious about how she was and desperate to make up for the morning. “Look, I’m really sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to lose my temper like that.”
I thought I heard the squeak of the bed, but it may have been my imagination playing games with me, hoping that she was about to come and unlock the door and give me a big hug. “I tried to text you earlier, but the damn thing wouldn’t send. Did it come through in the end?”
Nothing. I tried the next tactic.
“Do you want to fill the Norfolk & Norwich leaflets in now? I’ll get them booked tomorrow. We’ll definitely get to that 1920s garden party one this year, yeah? Sound good?”
Still, nothing. I sighed. We’d been here before. She was a master at the silent treatment game. If I barged in now, it would just start another argument. Best to leave her in the company of her Bieber playlist and let her sleep it off. I pushed the leaflets under the bottom of her door instead.
“I’ll leave them there for you, Teig. See you in the morning.”
I turned right into my own bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. I curled up into a ball and put my head in my hands, trying to force out the memories of the day. Emma. The Dannot brothers. Teigan. The familiar drowning sensation swept over me, my breathing becoming quick and shallow. I made myself sit up, cross-legged, and place my hands on my knees. I needed to regain control.
I took a deep breath in slowly and let the air escape my mouth, making sure I was using my stomach and not my chest. I tried my best to clear my head, but my plans for the next day started to creep in. I knew I needed to leave the house at six the next morning to get to a kinship care visit in Leeds. The case was easy enough; after removing her from her mother’s care three months ago, little Ellie was now living under a kinship care arrangement with her auntie. The problem was that until it was all signed off, I had to continue to see her weekly — a right pain when her auntie lived in Leeds.
I took a yogic breath and directed myself to the positives. There had to be something … Yes. Getting up and out early tomorrow meant I wouldn’t catch Teigan again until after school Friday, and by then the argument would have blown over. I hoped. I filled my mind with hopeful fantasies of spending the evening together, maybe even watching a girly film together. Perhaps I’d get a takeaway too — that would be a good peace offering. I nodded to myself, confident that Teigan and I would move past the argument and that the bad week would be over. Things couldn’t get much worse, could they?