A Baby’s Cry

by Cathy Glass

  ‘Ava would like to bring Ellie for a brief visit first,’ Jill said, ‘and then bring her to stay on Saturday morning, if that’s all right with you. She’ll collect her again the following Saturday.’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine.’

  ‘I’ll give Ava your telephone number, then, so she can phone you and arrange the visit. Thanks again.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Jill.’

  I’d looked after children before on respite, so I didn’t think there’d be a problem.

  The rain had stopped and the sun had come out by the time I had to leave to collect Adrian and Paula from school. As I drove the strong summer sun, now shining from a clear blue sky, was causing the moisture from the garden fences and walls to evaporate and steam was spiralling into the air. I had the car window down a little and the air smelt fresh and vibrant. I parked in a side road and pushed Harrison in the pram into the playground.

  Adrian and Paula were very excited when they came out of school. Adrian had spent the afternoon in a dress rehearsal for The Jungle Book, which they’d performed in front of an audience from the infant school, including Paula’s class. Adrian was high on adrenalin and his performance continued in the playground with a rendition of ‘The Vulture Song’: We’re your friends, We’re your friends, We’re your friends to the bitter end …

  ‘Are you singing that in the school play?’ I asked, impressed, for I hadn’t realized Adrian could sing.

  ‘Maybe,’ he replied shyly.

  ‘He is,’ Paula confirmed.

  Then they both handed me a copy of the school newsletter and pointed to the line which stated: School will finish early – at one o’clock – on Friday, the last day of term.

  ‘Noted,’ I said.

  On the way home I mentioned to Adrian and Paula that I had agreed to look after little Ellie the following week for a week’s respite and they just nodded. Having grown up with fostering they were used to children coming and going, staying sometimes only for a few days, although usually for a lot longer. Adrian’s only comment was: ‘It’s a pity it’s not a boy.’ Which he said most times we fostered a girl.

  ‘You had a boy last time,’ Paula pointed out, making it sound as though I had a choice, which I didn’t. Foster carers usually accept any child who needs a home within the age range for which they are approved; we were approved for the widest age range – birth to sixteen.

  In the car I also reminded the children that they were going out with their father on Sunday, although they hadn’t forgotten. Since John, my husband, had left he visited the children once a month, when he took them out for the day. He also telephoned a couple of times during the month. Adrian and Paula always had a nice time when they went out with their father, although Paula always asked, as she did now, ‘Mum, can you come with us?’

  As always her question tore at my heart and I had to put on a brave face when I replied: ‘No, love, it’s yours and Adrian’s special time with your father. Don’t worry about me: I’ll have plenty to do and I’ve got Harrison for company.’ For Paula had once told me that she worried I would be lonely while they were out.

  The weather that evening was beautiful, as though making up for the heavy rain of the morning, and after dinner we all went in the garden. Adrian and Paula played on their bikes and then played bat and ball as Harrison sat contentedly in his bouncing cradle on the lawn watching them, and I did some gardening.

  ‘It won’t be long before you can join in,’ I said to him, smiling, for he looked as if he would have liked to join in the fun Adrian and Paula were having.

  At 8.45 the children were in bed; Harrison had had his bath and bottle and was in his cot. I was downstairs, tidying up the sitting room, when the phone rang. It was Ava, Ellie’s carer. She thanked me for agreeing to look after Ellie and then explained that her brother was receiving chemotherapy and his wife and young family were finding it very difficult to cope, so she was going to stay with them for a week to help out. Her husband couldn’t take the time off work to look after the children, which was the reason her own two boys were going to stay with her sister and she’d asked for respite for Ellie. I said I was sorry to hear of her brother’s illness and we arranged for her and Ellie to visit us on Friday. As Ellie’s and her boys’ schools also broke up early on Friday we made it three o’clock. Ava asked if she could bring her sons for the visit too and I said that was fine. Ava then told me a bit about Ellie so that I would be better able to cater for her needs when she stayed.

  ‘Ellie’s been with us for just over four months,’ Ava said. ‘She’s a very sweet child but far too quiet. She came into care when her teacher saw what looked like burn marks on her back when she was changing for PE. She asked Ellie how she had got them and Ellie said her mother’s boyfriend had made the marks with a cigarette. Then Ellie showed her some more burn marks on her bottom.’

  ‘How awful!’ I said, shocked.

  ‘It was a real eye-opener for my husband and me,’ Ava said. ‘I mean you read about these things in the newspaper but it’s not until you look after a child who’s been badly abused that it really hits home. My sons are six and eight and I haven’t told them the details. I’ve just said Ellie’s family were not kind to her.’

  ‘Yes, I protect Adrian and Paula as much as I can,’ I said.

  ‘When Ellie first arrived,’ Ava continued, ‘she hardly spoke at all, but now she’s starting to trust me she’s telling me some awful things. Last week she told me her mother’s boyfriend used to hit her with a belt, and that her mother shut her in a cupboard. I told Jill and she told Ellie’s social worker. They think there is probably more to come out. Unsurprisingly, Ellie is afraid of the dark and always sleeps with the light on.’

  ‘I’ll make sure that happens here too,’ I said. ‘And I always leave a night light on on the landing. Don’t worry: I’ll make sure Ellie’s well looked after – day and night.’

  ‘Thank you so much. I wish I didn’t have to leave her but there’s no choice.’

  ‘Is there any contact while you’re away?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. Ellie sees her mother once a week. It’s supervised at the family centre. I usually take and collect Ellie. Will you be doing that?’

  ‘I expect so.’

  Ava hesitated. ‘You’re a more experienced foster carer than I am, so perhaps you don’t mind, but to be honest I find it really difficult meeting Ellie’s mother and being polite to her when I know what she’s done to her daughter.’

  ‘It doesn’t get any easier,’ I said. ‘I have to bite my tongue and put my own feelings to one side for the sake of the child when I meet parents who have abused their children. I take it Ellie still wants to see her mother?’

  ‘Yes. That’s the other thing I don’t understand. Ellie still loves her mother and is so loyal to her despite all the abuse.’

  ‘That’s normal,’ I said. ‘It’s very rare for a child, no matter how badly abused they’ve been, to reject their mother. There seems to be an underlying bond that continues, regardless. I suppose every child wants to believe that deep down their mother loves and cares for them.’

  ‘I guess you’re right,’ Ava said thoughtfully.

  I then reminded Ava to bring Ellie’s favourite toys with her when she came to stay so that she would feel more settled and secure. We finished our conversation as we had begun with Ava thanking me for looking after Ellie. I put down the phone, but my thoughts stayed with little Ellie, whom I’d met briefly on the Homefinders spring outing. Another child abused by the very people who should have been loving and protecting her, I thought. It was sickening. Foster carers never get used to hearing about such atrocities, regardless of how long they have been fostering.

  On Tuesday I took Harrison to the clinic for his weekly weigh-in and he’d put on another four ounces, which was good. The health visitor commented on how smartly dressed he always was and while I thanked her, I silently acknowledged that it wasn’t to my credit but that of Harrison’s mother, who’d so carefully
chosen and packed all the clothes he needed for his first year. I received a small allowance from the social services towards the cost of Harrison’s clothing and as I wasn’t spending this money I was saving it so that he could take it with him when he was eventually adopted.

  On Wednesday it was Adrian and Paula’s school play and I sat in the audience, a very proud mother. Adrian didn’t usually say much about his achievements and he wasn’t an extrovert child, but he came into his own as the playful cheeky vulture in The Jungle Book. The vulture costumes the four boys had made in their art lessons at school were fantastic, with wings and feathers cut out of grey and black cardboard, and a cardboard vulture head with a large beak that protruded over their foreheads. The audience (of parents) laughed as the four vultures went through their spoken routine of: What do you want to do? Don’t know. What do you want to do? etc.; but when they sang ‘The Vulture Song’, there was absolute silence. I hadn’t really taken much notice of the words of the song before, but as the four boys sang We’re your friends … in harmony a lump rose in my throat. Adrian seemed to be looking straight at me as he sang: When you’re alone, Who comes around, To pluck you up, When you are down? And, when you’re outside lookin’ in, Who’s there to open the door? That’s what friends are for.

  I’d had doubts about taking Harrison with me to watch the show in case he became restless but, mindful that he might fret if I left him with another foster carer, I’d decided to take him with me and I’d chosen a chair at the end of a row so that I could slip out easily if he cried. However, he slept in my arms for most of the show despite the music, laughing and applause. When he did wake, fifteen minutes before the end of the show, I gave him some of his bottle and then he was content to lie in my arms, looking and listening at the new sights and sounds until the show finished.

  When I met Paula and Adrian in the playground after the show I congratulated Adrian. ‘You were fantastic!’ I said. ‘I didn’t know you could sing and act. Have you thought about joining our local amateur dramatic society?’

  ‘No.’ Then looking at Paula he said with his dry humour: ‘There’s plenty of amateur dramatics at home.’

  On Thursday both children took lemonade and snacks into school for their end-of-year class parties, and on Friday I was in the playground at one o’clock for the school’s early finish. I was nearly as excited as the children by the arrival of the last day of term and the prospect of being out of the school routine for six whole weeks. I was planning activities and days out as well as simply allowing us time to relax at home and in the garden.

  However, first we needed to welcome Ellie when she visited at three o’clock. I had already cleared the baby equipment from the spare room and I’d put a girly Minnie Mouse duvet cover on the bed and some cuddly toys on the chair. Aware that Ellie had suffered a lot in her six years and that she was probably going to miss Ava, I was expecting there might be occasions during the week when she would be upset, although I’d obviously try to make sure this didn’t happen by keeping her occupied and keeping an eye on her. But nothing could have prepared me for the child who stood on my doorstep at three o’clock: with large brown eyes and tears streaming down her cheeks, she clung desperately to her carer’s skirt and refused to come in.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ellie

  ‘It’s all right, Ellie,’ I said gently. ‘Take your time.’ I smiled at Ava and then at Ellie, who took one look at me and buried her head in her carer’s skirt.

  ‘This is Cathy,’ Ava reminded Ellie, lightly stroking her hair. ‘You met her when we went on the coach to the zoo at Easter. She’s a foster carer like me and has two children of her own.’

  Adrian and Paula were standing behind me in the hall. ‘Paula is five,’ I said to Ellie. ‘Nearly the same age as you.’ I turned and looked at Paula, who nodded but didn’t say anything, clearly worried by Ellie’s crying. ‘And Adrian is nine,’ I added.

  ‘Hi, Ellie,’ Adrian said.

  ‘Hello,’ Ava replied. Ellie kept her head buried firmly in Ava’s skirt and didn’t say anything.

  ‘And we’re also looking after a little baby,’ I said. ‘He’s called Harrison and is only a few weeks old. Would you like to see him, Ellie?’ I tried.

  Ellie shook her head.

  ‘Don’t forget our cat, Toscha,’ Adrian added.

  Ava smiled. ‘We’ve got a cat as well, haven’t we, Ellie?’ she said encouragingly. Slipping one arm around Ellie’s shoulder Ava tried to ease her forward over the doorstep, but Ellie stood firm. She kept her head buried in Ava’s skirt and cried louder. I could see the whites of Ellie’s knuckles as her little fists clung desperately to the material of Ava’s skirt. ‘Ellie, we’ve just come for a short visit,’ Ava tried more firmly, but without effect. I knew that if we couldn’t persuade Ellie to come in for a visit today it would be more difficult tomorrow when Ava had to leave her. Once before I’d had to take a sobbing child from her carer and it was heartbreaking, although she’d soon settled once the carer had left.

  ‘We don’t bite,’ I said, trying a light-hearted approach, but only Ava smiled.

  ‘I’m sorry, Cathy,’ Ava said, now embarrassed and clearly made anxious by Ellie’s behaviour. ‘Come on, Ellie, we’ve got to go in.’ But Ellie still didn’t move. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ Ava said desperately to me.

  I thought this was the last thing Ava needed on top of all the worry of her brother’s illness. I turned again to Paula and Adrian, who were still in the hall behind me, both of them looking at Ellie and Ava and also looking concerned. ‘Paula,’ I said. ‘You’re nearly the same age as Ellie. Do you think you could try? She might feel more comfortable with you.’

  Although Paula was clearly unsettled by Ellie’s crying, she slowly came forward and, stepping into the porch, put her hand on Ellie’s arm. ‘Hello,’ she said bravely. ‘I’m Paula, Cathy’s daughter. I’d like you to come in. I have a doll’s house but no one to play with. Will you come and play with me?’

  Bless her, I thought. She’d said it so sweetly and sensitively, and used a touch of psychology too.

  Ava smiled appreciatively at Paula. ‘A doll’s house!’ she said. ‘That’s sounds fantastic. It’s a pity Paula has no one to play with, isn’t it, Ellie?’

  It worked. Ellie slowly raised her head from Ava’s skirt and, reaching out, took hold of Paula’s hand. Then, concentrating on the ground, she allowed Paula to lead her over the doorstep and into the hall. Ava breathed a sigh of relief as I silently and quickly closed the front door.

  ‘The doll’s house is in my bedroom,’ Paula said, holding Ellie’s hand and leading her up the stairs.

  ‘Why don’t you go up too for a minute?’ I said to Ava. ‘Paula won’t mind and it will help reassure Ellie.’

  Ava followed Paula and Ellie up the stairs as Adrian said to me: ‘Can I go and play in the garden?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He’d met Ava and Ellie and wouldn’t want to play doll’s houses with the two girls. Like many boys his age Adrian always found something to amuse himself within the garden even if he didn’t have anyone to play with.

  Adrian let himself out of the back door as I checked on Harrison, who was dozing in his bouncing cradle in the sitting room. Then I went into the kitchen, where I filled the kettle, guessing Ava would appreciate a drink. She appeared downstairs a few minutes later just as the kettle was boiling.

  ‘Well timed,’ I said. ‘Would you like a tea or a coffee?’

  ‘Tea would be lovely. Thanks.’ Ava sighed gratefully. ‘Paula’s doing a good job. Ellie has stopped crying and is playing. Sorry about all that.’

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s only natural that Ellie will have some worries about coming here and leaving you.’ Then I suddenly realized that Ava didn’t have her sons with her. ‘You didn’t bring your boys?’

  ‘No, they had a last-minute invitation to play at a friend’s house. I’ll collect them later.’

  I made the tea and carried it through to the sitt
ing room, where Ava fussed over Harrison, who was now awake, before sitting down.

  ‘What am I going to do tomorrow if Ellie is like she was earlier?’ Ava asked, worried again. ‘I can’t take her with me and I have to go to my brother’s family. They desperately need some help.’

  ‘I think Ellie will be far less worried tomorrow now she’s seen our house and has met us. Before you go today we’ll show her around so that she can see her bedroom and ask any questions she might have. And tomorrow when she stays she’ll have her own things with her, which will help.’

  ‘But supposing she’s still very upset?’ Ava persisted anxiously.

  ‘Then I’ll cuddle her until she recovers,’ I said. ‘Try not to worry. I’ve looked after lots of children, short and long term. She’ll be fine. Has Jill suggested you phone mid-week to speak to her?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’

  ‘Good. I’ll keep Ellie busy and the week will fly by.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Ava said gratefully, and finally sipped her tea. ‘We’ve had rather a rough time recently,’ she confided. ‘My brother was diagnosed with cancer in March and then Ellie arrived a week later, having been abused by her mother and her boyfriend. She didn’t say much to begin with but now the flood-gates have opened she keeps telling me new things. It’s dreadful. Driving here she suddenly asked me if you had any kitchen knives. I said I thought you would have, but as at my house they would be kept safely.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘The kitchen knives can’t be reached by children. Why did Ellie ask you that?’

  ‘That’s what I asked her. She went quiet, as she does when she’s about to tell me something bad. Then she said her mum had a big kitchen knife and Shane – that’s the mother’s boyfriend – used to hold it to her mother’s throat and then cut her mother’s arm with it. I mean, I ask you! What sort of people are they? I don’t know why Ellie should suddenly think of that now.’