The Child Bride Read Free Page B

phone me and I’ll try to get it when I visit,’ Tara said.
    ‘Thank you,’ Zeena said, and wiped her eyes. She appeared so vulnerable and sad, my heart went out to her.
    Tara put away her notepad and pen and then gave Zeena a hug. ‘We’ll go and have a look at your room now before I leave.’
    We stood and I led the way upstairs and into Zeena’s bedroom. It was usual practice for the social worker to see the child’s bedroom.
    ‘This is nice,’ Tara said, while Zeena looked around, clearly amazed.
    ‘Is this room just for me?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes. You have your own room here,’ I said
    ‘Do you share a bedroom at home?’ Tara asked her.
    ‘Yes.’ Her gaze went to the door. ‘Can I lock the door?’ she asked me.
    ‘We don’t have locks on any of the bedroom doors,’ I said. ‘But no one will come into your room. We always knock on each other’s bedroom doors if we want the person.’ Foster carers are advised not to fit locks on children’s bedroom doors in case they lock themselves in when they are upset. ‘You will be safe, I promise you,’ I added.
    Zeena gave a small nod.
    Tara was satisfied the room was suitable and we went downstairs and into the living room where Tara collected her bag.
    ‘Tell Cathy or phone me if you need anything or are worried,’ she said to Zeena. I could see she felt as protective of Zeena as I did.
    ‘I will,’ Zeena said.
    ‘Good girl. Take care, and try not to worry.’
    Zeena gave a small, unconvincing nod and perched on the sofa while I went with Tara to the front door.
    ‘Keep a close eye on her,’ she said quietly to me so Zeena couldn’t hear. ‘I’m very worried about her.’
    ‘I will,’ I said. ‘She’s very frightened and anxious. I’ll phone you when I’ve made the doctor’s appointment.’
    ‘Thank you. I’ll be in touch.’
    I closed the front door and returned to the living room where Zeena was on the sofa, bent slightly forward and staring at the floor. It was nearly five o’clock and Lucy would be home soon, so I thought I should warn Zeena so she wasn’t startled again when the front door opened.
    ‘You’ve met my daughter Paula,’ I said, sitting next to her. ‘Soon my other daughter, Lucy, will be home from work. Don’t worry if you hear a key in the front door; it will be her. Adrian won’t be home until about eight o’clock; he’s working a late shift today.’
    ‘Do all your children have front-door keys?’ Zeena asked, turning slightly to look at me.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I’m not allowed to have a key to my house,’ she said.
    I nodded. Different families have different policies on this type of responsibility; however, by Zeena’s age most of the teenagers I knew had their own front-door key, as had my children.
    ‘What age will you have a key?’ I asked out of interest, and trying to make conversation to put her at ease.
    ‘Never,’ she said stoically. ‘The girls in my family don’t have keys to the house. The boys are given keys when they are old enough, but the girls have to wait until they are married. Then they may have a key to their husband’s house, if their husband wishes.’
    Zeena had said this without criticism, having accepted her parents’ rules. I appreciated that hers was a different culture with slightly different customs. I had little background information on Zeena, so as she’d mentioned her siblings I thought I’d ask about them.
    ‘How many brothers and sisters do you have?’
    ‘Four,’ she said. ‘Two brothers and two sisters.’
    ‘How lovely. I think Tara told me they’re all younger than you?’
    ‘Yes, I am the eldest. The boys are aged ten and eight, and my sisters are five and three. They’ll miss me. I’m like a mother to them.’ Her eyes filled again and I gently touched her arm.
    ‘Tara said she’d speak to your parents about you seeing your brothers and sisters,’ I reassured her. ‘Do you have any photographs of them?’
    ‘Not with me; they’re at