Family Reunion

Beth had been sent an invitation by mistake. Should she go?

What’s this then?’ I asked Clover, as I pulled the card from the envelope.

Dear Beth, You’re invited to a family reunion at the bandstand in Victoria Park, Little Mallow, at 2pm on Saturday 28 January. PS: It’s a great dog-walking spot!

Clover wagged her stubby tail and looked hopefully at her lead. She can’t read, obviously — that’s her response to pretty much everything. She can’t really answer my questions either, at least not in any detail, but she understands me.

The invitation wasn’t signed, which seemed peculiar. The timing made sense — the run-up to Christmas makes people wish they had others to be with, and think of those they previously shared the festival with.

At least, that’s true in my case. But why would a family need to reunite? That seemed an odd concept.

If you had family, didn’t you stick together and keep in touch?

I’d thought that was the point — unconditional love, forgive and forget.

I’d attempted to push my various foster carers into proving they were more loving, caring and supportive than my idealised version of a real family.

Of course, that hadn’t gone well and I’d returned time and time again to the children’s home.

I’d been wrong. You can build a family without blood ties, but it takes time and effort on both sides.

It was getting Clover that made me see that how someone comes into your life, doesn’t affect how much you love them.

‘And I do love you, girl,’ I said, scratching between her floppy brown ears.

Clover isn’t a person, but she has as much personality as any human. To be frank, she’s more important to me than any actual person, but then I don’t have many people in my life. Nobody special. That’s my fault, I know that now.

It wasn’t my fault I was born to people unwilling to accept the responsibilities of parenthood. It wasn’t really my fault that as a child I found that difficult to cope with — although I could have made life easier for those who tried to help me.

It’s definitely my fault that since becoming an adult, I’ve pushed people away before they have the chance to reject me.

‘Oh, Clover, when will I ever learn?’

She tilted her head to one side, inviting me to explain.

‘Well, there was Martin, from the shelter where I adopted you. I could tell he was nice and kind, not just from his job, but the way the dogs in his care responded to him. But I wasn’t nice and kind back.’

To start with, it had been OK. I’d volunteered for a few hours each week, walking dogs and cleaning their pens. I wanted to prove to myself that I didn’t just like the idea of having a cute ball of fluff to give me an enthusiastic welcome when I came home, but was prepared for the realities of owning one.

Martin had been the one to show me what to do when I started. As time passed, he clearly welcomed my regular arrivals and usually arranged things so

‘To be frank, Clover is more important to me than any actual person’

we worked together.

I’d thought we were becoming friends — thought that I would let that happen.

Occasionally, I even fantasised about becoming more than friends.

Partly with that in mind I decided to continue volunteering after I got a dog of my own.

I didn’t tell Martin any of that, of course. I just asked for the forms I needed to start the process of adopting a puppy.

That last word was a slip of the tongue as I’d been willing to take on an adult dog. But when I tried to correct that and say I knew about the benefits of owning older dogs, it came out wrong and gave the impression I didn’t want to bother with all the training.

‘Beth, are you sure?’

Martin asked. ‘If you keep volunteering here, then you can walk a dog whenever you like…’

I cut him off by yelling: ‘Of course I’m sure! I know what it’s like to be abandoned and I won’t do that to the poor creature.’

‘OK, right… I’ll get you those forms.’

Someone better at reading other people’s emotions, someone like Clover, might have wondered if one of the things I’d prevented him from saying was that he’d really like me to keep volunteering — and not just because I was useful.

They might have guessed his reaction, once it seemed as if I didn’t want to keep coming back, was one of disappointment.

But me being me, I took it as proof I shouldn’t have hoped for any kind of relationship with him, and did nothing to try to repair our friendship.

I didn’t give him a chance to try either, in case he didn’t grasp the opportunity.

When I arrived for my volunteer stints, I tried to avoid him.

As that proved impossible, I was polite but cool. He always said hello, asked if I was well and mentioned the tasks to be done.

My reply was always: ‘I’m fine. Can I work with Carly today?’

Or John, or Ishana — or alone.

A simple: ‘Can I give you a hand?’ when he said what he’d be doing might have been enough. Almost certainly would have been, but I didn’t take the tiny risk that friendly, polite Martin might rebuff me so harshly, it would put a dent in my defensive barrier.

‘Beth, you know there has to be a home visit before you can be approved to adopt?’ he asked one day.

‘Absolutely,’ I said brightly. ‘I’m looking forward to proving I can provide a good home. My flat is small, but the landlady is happy for me to use the garden, and has even promised to let my dog out for a while each day. I work close by, so can come home every lunchtime, so she wouldn’t be shut in alone all day.’ ‘That sounds perfect.’ I almost said: ‘Come and see,’ but assumed he’d be doing that as part of his job.

What I did do was pop down the bakery on the morning arranged for the visit and buy a few cookies and doughnuts.

I thought that was a friendly thing to do and might prolong the visit — make it more of a social situation.

I was right. Carly, Martin’s colleague, was very happy to accept some refreshments and stayed chatting for quite a while.

‘Is everything OK then?’ I asked. ‘You’ll let me have a dog?’

I’d requested a small female with a gentle temperament. The size of my flat meant a large or boisterous breed wouldn’t be ideal, and my landlady said she’d prefer one that didn’t cock his leg on her hydrangeas.

‘The next suitable one is yours,’ Carly promised.

In case that happened sooner rather than later, I warned my boss at work that I’d be wanting time off to help my new pet settle in.

She agreed and brought forward a training course I was due to go on, so I didn’t have to worry about kennels.

I was away when Carly rang to say she had a puppy which might suit me.

‘She’s six months old and house-trained, but hasn’t been taught anything beyond that. The previous owners already had a dog that got pregnant. They wanted to keep all the pups, but simply couldn’t cope. Thankfully they realised before things reached a crisis.’

‘She sounds perfect.’ ‘When can you come and take a look?’

After I explained about the course, Carly agreed to keep the pup until my return in three days’ time.

One look at Clover was all it took for me to fall in love. ‘We’ll all miss you at the shelter,’ Carly said, once the formalities were completed.

Thankfully I realised that wasn’t a hint I was no longer welcome.

She knew that when I’d first volunteered, it was only to be until I had a dog of my own. Her words meant she really would miss me. And she had said ‘all’.

‘You have my number and know the hours I work,’ I said. ‘So if you’re ever stuck for someone to come in outside those times, give me a call.’

‘Really? That would be fantastic,’ said Carly.

‘I know what it’s like to be abandoned and I won’t do that to the poor creature’

A sympathetic licking of my fingers made me see things in a slightly more positive light…

‘You’re right, Clover, I have learnt my lesson.’

I’d missed my possible chance of forming a deeper and long-lasting relationship with Martin, but I was determined not to repeat that mistake.

Now, I returned my attention to the invitation

I’d received. Refusing a kindly-meant invite might be a mistake. Most likely me receiving

it was also a mistake, but I couldn’t be sure.

Some of my foster parents would have sent birthday and Christmas cards if I’d kept in touch. They might even have invited me to a wedding or other party, but I hadn’t given any of them my new address or any reason to think I ever gave them a kind thought.

I promised myself I’d try to put that right. A pretty card with a few words of thanks for giving me a safe home and saying I was doing OK might be appreciated. And if I didn’t invite a response, I needn’t feel rejected if none were forthcoming.

It did cross my mind for a moment that my birth family were trying to make contact, but it seemed very unlikely. My social worker had explained all the procedures, and none of them involved giving my address out so someone could send me an anonymous invitation.

There was only one way I could learn who’d sent it. ‘Shall we go?’ I asked Clover.

The meeting was to be in a public place, so I was sure it would be safe. And the PS made it clear I could take Clover, who I’d be walking then anyway.

Clover must have picked up from my tone of voice that an outing was on offer, so resumed her tail wagging.

‘OK then, that’s settled.’

I wouldn’t be going as a guest — I was almost certain I wasn’t the intended recipient of the invitation.

I just wanted to take a look and satisfy my curiosity.

On the 28th I was unable to spot a family group waiting to be joined by others. I was sure they’d stand out if they were there. It was a beautifully bright day and mild for January, but breezy so nobody would linger without reason.

I did recognise a lady walking her own dog. We’d exchanged a few words now and then, on account of our dogs being the same breed and age. When I say breed, I mean about the same size and shape and a similar colour. They’re not pedigree or anything.

Hello!’ I called and headed in the lady’s direction. In part that was so I could hang around and look for the reuniting family without seeming like a weirdo.

Also it was because the lady seemed nice when we’d spoken before. Although she was about three decades older than me, I thought maybe we could become friends.

We walked as we talked, and I soon discovered her name was Yvonne.

Previously only Clover and Toffee had been introduced.

I learnt she was as nice as the initial impression suggested, and that because she was a widow, she’d got Toffee so she wasn’t too lonely.

‘It’s nice to have someone to talk to, even if they do pretend to think every other comment is an invitation to go for a W.A.L.K. or an offer of a T.R.E.A.T., isn’t it?’

I completely agreed, and grasped the opportunity offered to me. ‘Maybe we could W.A.L.K. them together sometimes? Clover is a brilliant listener, but not very chatty.’

‘Oh, that would be nice! When would be convenient for you?’

We decided on about the same time, same place as we’d met that day. We exchanged phone numbers and promises there was no pressure if either of us was busy or didn’t feel like it.

‘Excuse me, am I in the right place?’ asked a man of around my own age. ‘The invitation said to meet at the bandstand, but there’s nobody there.’

‘We were,’ Yvonne said. ‘But it was cold standing still.’

‘You’re here for the family reunion too?’ I asked them both.

Then I think we all noticed each others’ dogs at the same time. His looked even more like Clover than Yvonne’s Toffee did.

As Bob introduced himself and Jasper, an older couple, with another matching dog, joined us.

‘We’re Ted and May Jackson,’ the man said. ‘And this is Oscar.’

‘This reunion thing is making sense now,’ Yvonne said. ‘It’s for our dogs. They must be from the same litter, don’t you think?’

We agreed they must. We

‘The invitation said to meet at the bandstand, but there’s nobody there’

established that Carly had carried out the shelter’s home visit for all of us. It seemed entirely possible she’d sent the invitations.

Allowing the litter to meet up was a lovely idea and surely good for the dogs and their owners.

Her method of arranging it was a bit peculiar, but maybe she liked to act in unconventional ways.

‘Shall we walk across to the bandstand?’ May Jackson suggested. ‘It does give a bit of shelter from the wind and we put a bag of treats in there.’

As we walked, Bob remarked that anyone seeing us might think we were as much a family as our dogs. ‘Ted and May could be our parents, couldn’t they Beth?’

‘Grandparents more like!’ May said.

‘You know, I do feel a kind of connection with you all. Especially Yvonne, as

I’ve met her before and we’re going to meet to W.A.L.K. our dogs together. That’s going to be such a treat. Whoops!’

The ‘treat’ word had sent Toffee into another mini frenzy, which set Jasper off and the pair of them almost knocked Bob off his feet.

‘Is it too cheeky to ask if I can join you sometimes? I can give Jasper plenty of wal… um, W.A.L.K.S. But it’s not the same as scampering around like this, and they’re having a lot of fun.’

‘I don’t mind a bit of cheek,’ Yvonne said. ‘How about you, Beth?’

‘I think it would be lovely for the dogs to get together.’

Bob seemed pleasant and I guessed he was thinking a group walk would be a nice change, but I was sure Yvonne was reading more into his request than he meant.

‘Us too?’ May asked. ‘Like Bob here, we take Oscar out regularly, but our pace is sedate. Seeing them playing together like this makes me realise he’d benefit from more energetic exercise.’

I explained the arrangement Yvonne and I had made and we all exchanged numbers.

Despite the chill in the air I felt a warm glow. In truth, I hardly knew these people, yet I had no doubt that if I ever felt low or in need of company, I could call any of them and say: ‘Do you fancy a walk?’

And even if they didn’t want to go out, they wouldn’t mind that I’d asked and would chat for a bit. I’d be the same if one of them phoned me.

That’s how I think of family — someone you can call for no reason at all and who can contact you without explanation or making you wonder what they want.

As Ted distributed the kind of chews Clover and her siblings adored, May did an excellent impression of a doting Gran.

She supplied us all with wedges of Victoria sandwich cake: ‘Because we’re in Victoria Park’, and beakers of hot chocolate: ‘Because it’s January and everyone likes chocolate’.

None of us could fault her logic.

‘You’re extremely well prepared,’ Yvonne remarked.

‘An unbreakable habit. We used to be emergency foster carers,’ Ted said.

I knew they hadn’t fostered me, as all the families I’d stayed with were younger, but I still felt there was something I needed to say.

‘Thank you, both of you. I grew up in foster care, so I owe a lot to people like you.’

Then I explained my regret about not staying in touch and about the notes I intended to send. I’ve never opened up quite like that before, but even with Yvonne and Bob listening in, I didn’t feel awkward.

‘That’s a lovely idea, Beth,’ May said. ‘It means a great deal to us when we hear from any of our kids. We fostered for over 40 years, and although it was sensible to stop while we’re still reasonably fit, we miss being the centre of a family.’

‘So, go on, adopt Beth and I as part-time grandkids!’ Bob said.

‘No, No!’ Yvonne said.

‘Oh, sorry, I don’t mean about forming an unofficial family — I hope I can be a cousin. What I mean is, that Ted and May brought enough treats for everyone, as though they knew who would be here and that we’d have our dogs.’

‘Tell them,’ said May.

‘We did know,’ said Ted. ‘Martin discussed the idea with us before sending the invitations.’

‘Martin!’ My voice was probably quite high and loud. ‘Is Martin coming too?’

Ted waved his phone. ‘He is if you’d like him to.’

‘I’m sure none of us will object to that,’ Yvonne said.

‘You’re right, Cousin Yvonne, nobody will object, but that’s not the issue. Martin will be here like a shot, but only if that’s what our Beth really wants.’

‘I do,’ I confirmed. ‘I want that very much.’

As Ted made the call, Bob pretended to punch me on the arm. ‘Did you hear that, Auntie Yvonne? My little sis is in L.O.V.E.’

Yvonne blushed and I’m pretty sure I did too. She recovered more quickly. ‘Which am I, cousin or aunt?’

‘Both?’ Bob suggested.

‘You can be Ted and May’s cousin and aunt to me and Beth.’

‘I think that works,’ Ted said. ‘And me and May are Granny and Gramps.’

‘And Martin? Will he be part of this family?’ Yvonne asked.

‘That’s up to him and Beth, but I have him down as Bob’s future brother-in-law.’

‘Oh, I do love a wedding! I’m going to start looking at hats!’

‘Who’s getting married?’ asked Martin, as he stepped up into the bandstand.

Gramps ignored the question and mentioned our weekly walks. As he managed to get the words ‘walk’ and ‘treat’ in at least three times, everyone was distracted and the conversation moved on.

Maybe one day Martin and I will resume it on our own. I very much hope so, but whatever happens, Clover and I have many family reunions to look forward to.

‘Martin will be here like a shot, but only if that’s what our Beth really wants’