by Cathy Glass
Eva paused to sip her coffee and I waited, tense with anticipation yet almost dreading what I was about to hear.
‘Aimee was on the “at risk” register at birth,’ Eva continued, setting her cup slowly in the saucer. ‘Having read the files, it is my opinion Aimee should have been removed at birth. Nothing had changed in Susan’s life since her older children were taken into care, and it’s not clear why the decision to remove Aimee wasn’t taken when she was born. Susan was still using drugs and her flat was filthy. The social worker at the time noted that Susan appeared agitated and confused. Susan claimed she was receiving help from a woman she referred to as Nana Jane. There is no indication who this woman was, and no one seems to have met her. But it is possible that Susan’s claim she was receiving this support persuaded the social services that Susan could care for Aimee with this woman’s help. Also at that time, Susan said Aimee’s father was helping her to parent Aimee, although my research shows he was in prison for most of that period.’ Eva sighed and paused to take a breath.
‘Aimee was kept on the “at risk” register and monitored for two years,’ Eva said, looking directly at me. ‘Then for reasons I don’t understand she was taken off the register, as she was considered to be no longer at risk. Susan then disappeared with Aimee and they went “under the radar” for the next year. There is no indication of where they were living, on what or with whom, but I can guess it was pretty dreadful. They briefly reappeared when Aimee was three, when Susan took her to hospital with a cut to her leg, claiming Aimee had fallen off a swing. She needed four stitches. The doctor had concerns about Aimee’s general condition and alerted the social services. Susan didn’t return to the hospital to have the stitches removed, and mother and daughter disappeared again for another six months. Then they reappeared in a neighbouring county, where Susan put Aimee into nursery. Concerns were immediately raised by the head teacher of the nursery: Aimee always arrived late, was grubby, hungry, and appeared to be developmentally delayed. When the staff tried to talk to Susan about their concerns she became very agitated and aggressive.’
I nodded, aware just how intimidating Susan could be when angry.
‘The school alerted the social services and after a case conference Aimee was put on the “at risk” register again, and there was some talk about her being brought into care. But Susan disappeared with Aimee before any further action could be taken. What steps were made to trace her and Aimee isn’t clear. There were a number of social workers involved and the notes are inconclusive. A few months later when Aimee was four Susan reappeared in the area she now lives in and registered Aimee at the nursery at Hayward Primary School – her present school.
‘When you say “disappeared”, what exactly do you mean?’ I asked. ‘I thought there was a central register to stop this type of thing happening, and that all the agencies – health, education and so on – worked together?’
Eva gave a small cynical smile. ‘That was the government’s plan, but we’re a long way from that yet. And remember, this was eight years ago. Many families who came to the notice of the social services kept moving to avoid detection. It took time for the social services to catch up – it still does sometimes – and by then the family had moved again.’
I shook my head in disbelief: that with all the modern communication systems and databases it was still possible for families at risk to simply disappear. ‘But Aimee’s school raised concerns right from the beginning,’ I said. ‘When I met Lynn Burrows, when Aimee first came to me, Lynn told me she’d been phoning the social services ever since Aimee joined the school – four years ago.’
‘That’s right,’ Eva said. ‘Aimee was still on the “at risk” register and was being monitored. But Susan is very good at telling professionals what they want to hear. She’s had a lot of practice with her older children. And possibly the case was given to an inexperienced social worker who wanted to see the best in people, or a social worker with a huge caseload. Whatever the case, the outcome was that Aimee was taken off the “at risk” register two years later when she was six.’
‘To continue living in squalor, sleeping at crack houses and being abused!’ I said scathingly.
Eva nodded solemnly. ‘Although the social services clearly didn’t know all that at the time,’ she said, offering a small defence. ‘Fortunately, Lynn Burrows kept raising concerns. The records show Aimee’s attendance at school was very poor and when she did appear she was filthy with head lice, sores around her mouth and bruises on her arms and legs. Lynn also reported that Susan was impossible to deal with and was often angry and verbally abusive. In fact all the concerns that had been raised before. Aimee was put back on the “at risk” register and then one day Aimee told Lynn that her father had hit her and showed her fresh bruises. A social worker made an unannounced visit to the flat and found it, quote, “unfit for human habitation”. It was filthy, there were no carpets, curtains or bed for Aimee, no food, heating or lighting, and dog excrement on the floor. An unnamed male was sitting on the sofa smoking an illegal substance and watching an adult movie while Aimee sat next to him. An emergency child protection case conference was convened, but even then it took three months to bring Aimee into care.’
‘Why?’ I gasped in amazement. ‘Why did it take so long?’
‘In court, through her barrister and solicitor, Susan told the judge what he wanted to hear: that she needed help and promised to cooperate and work with the social services. Susan vowed to do all that was necessary to keep Aimee, including attending a drug rehabilitation programme. I understand it was a very emotional plea and it clearly worked, for the judge agreed to give Susan one last chance. One chance too many, in my view. The rest you know. Despite all the help that was put in, nothing changed and Aimee was finally removed and came to you.’
It was heavy stuff and we were both silent for a moment. Then Eva added: ‘I wish I could say it was the only case like this I’ve come across but it’s not – not by a long way. It happens too often: lots of changes in social worker, with no one person responsible for any length of time, and a catalogue of errors and oversights that leave a vulnerable young child to suffer.’
I knew Eva was right. I’d looked after children before who’d ‘fallen through the net’ of social care; some of them I’d fostered years before. I wondered how long it would be before the system was finally improved. In an ideal world no child would need to be removed from his or her parents, but this isn’t an ideal world. There are vulnerable children who need an effective social care system to protect them and there probably always will be.
‘How many social workers were involved in Aimee’s case?’ I asked, out of interest. ‘She’s had five since coming to me,’ I added.
‘I don’t know exactly,’ Eva said. ‘It’s difficult to tell from the records. I’d guess twelve or more before she came to you and that’s just for Aimee. There were many other social workers involved with the older children, but decisions appear to have been made sooner for them. I had a look through their files and it was obvious Susan had never been able to look after any of her children. The evidence was so clear that by the time Aimee was born the decision to bring her into care and have her adopted should have been made within months, not eight years. As far as I can see from the files, and having spoken to the social services, the older children are doing well. And isn’t it lovely that Jason has applied to look after Aimee permanently?’
‘Permanently? Jason?’ I queried, completely thrown. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’
‘You don’t know?’ Eva asked.
‘No.’ I shook my head.
‘Oh dear. How insensitive of me! I expect the information hasn’t got through to you yet because of the lack of a social worker. Jason is the eldest of Aimee’s half-siblings. He’s twenty-seven and married with one child. He and his family live in Norfolk, and last week he put himself forward to look after Aimee permanently. Once the new social worker is in place they’ll look into his suitabili
ty. Sorry, I didn’t realize you hadn’t been told.’
‘I see,’ I said, trying to recover from the shock of what I’d just heard. ‘No, I’d no idea. The last I’d heard was when you asked me if I’d be prepared to look after Aimee long-term.’
‘And you kindly agreed,’ Eva said with a small reassuring smile. ‘And that is still an option for Aimee. Jason and his family will be assessed once a new social worker is in place. Nothing is certain yet.’
‘I see,’ I said again. ‘Thank goodness I haven’t discussed Aimee staying with Adrian, Paula and Lucy. I haven’t had a chance – with Christmas and everything – but I’ll wait now until we know more. I don’t want to build up their hopes and then have them dashed. Paula and Lucy especially have grown close to Aimee.’
Eva looked at me kindly. ‘It must be very difficult for you to keep having to say goodbye to the children you look after. I’m sure I couldn’t do it.’
‘It is difficult,’ I said. ‘It’s hard even when you know the child is going to a kind and loving home. Some of the children keep in contact, which is nice, and sometimes you don’t hear from them for years and then they suddenly phone or arrive on your doorstep, which is fantastic.’
Eva smiled kindly again. ‘Well, as I said, nothing is settled yet and there’s a lot to take into account. Apart from assessing Jason and his family to see if they can successfully parent Aimee and offer her a suitable home, I will want to know if Jason is in contact with Susan. And if he is, how often he sees her. I’m now of the opinion that in order for Aimee to have the best chance in life the less she sees of her mother the better. Sad though it is, I will be recommending contact between Aimee and her mother to be no more than twice a year; otherwise Susan’s influence will prevail and she’ll try to disrupt Aimee’s life just as she did with the other half-siblings.’
I knew Eva was right. Aimee deserved a fresh start, away from her mother’s influence, and then hopefully she wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes her mother had made. Eva then asked me for an update on Aimee, which I gave, and after that she confirmed that a new permanent social worker should be in place the following week. She said she’d tried to see Susan but she wasn’t returning her calls, which would do nothing for her case in court.
‘Do you think Susan has given up the fight for Aimee?’ I asked. ‘Does she know Jason has applied to have her?’
‘She knows and she’s opposed to Jason looking after Aimee.’
‘Why? I’d have thought she’d find it reassuring to know her son was looking after her daughter.’
‘Susan says because Jason was adopted he’s not family, and therefore has no right to look after her. I know it doesn’t make sense, but a lot of what Susan says doesn’t make sense. Her solicitor told me that some days she’s barely functioning and can’t put a sentence together.’
‘And all those years she was looking after Aimee!’ I said. ‘It’s a wonder Aimee isn’t more disturbed.’
Eva nodded. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about. Let’s hope that with therapy Aimee can put the past behind her and move on with her life.’
I agreed. Eva thanked me for all I was doing for Aimee and said that the school had commented on how happy Aimee was, and what excellent progress she was making in her learning. She promised to keep me updated. We said goodbye and I saw her out.
Eva had left me with a lot to think about, not least of which was what Aimee would say if she knew her half-brother, whom she’d never met, had applied to look after her permanently. I wouldn’t be telling Aimee yet – not until Jason and his family had been assessed, approved, and the court had made its decision; only then would the social worker or I explain to Aimee what was going to happen. At her age such decisions are made for the child, while an older child is usually part of the decision-making process. However, there was nothing to stop me from preparing Aimee for the possibility that she might not be staying with us forever; indeed it was important I did. For while I hadn’t actually told Aimee I’d agree to her staying and becoming a permanent member of our family, she was so settled that there was a feeling on all our parts – an assumption – that she would be staying and this was her permanent home. I also thought I needed to start preparing Lucy and Paula for all eventualities.
The opportunity to do this presented itself that evening when Aimee was in bed and three of us were in the sitting room waiting for a television programme to start.
‘The Guardian visited today,’ I said. ‘There is a possibility that Aimee might go and live with one of her half-brothers. Don’t say anything to her yet, as nothing is decided, but I thought you should know.’
‘If she doesn’t go to him, then she’ll stay with us,’ Paula said matter-of-factly. ‘I’d like her to.’
‘Yes, that would be my hope too,’ I said, reassured by the firmness of Paula’s offer. ‘What do you think, Lucy?’
‘As long as Aimee’s happy, that’s all that counts,’ she said.
And that was that. I’d tell them more when I knew more.
Then at the weekend Aimee was looking through some of my photograph albums, which included many pictures of the children I’d fostered. She began pointing to the children and asking me who they were and where they were now. This was a golden opportunity to say what I needed to, so I joined her on the sofa and we continued looking through the album together.
‘That’s Donna,’ I said. ‘She stayed with us for over a year and then went to live with a forever family, not far from here. And that little girl is Alice. Her mummy loved her but she couldn’t look after her, so she went to live with her gran.’
‘Why couldn’t she look after her?’ Aimee asked, pausing from looking at the page to look at me.
‘Unfortunately she had problems with drugs, a bit like your mummy,’ I said, while omitting to mention that Alice’s mother had recovered from drug addiction, so that her daughter had been returned to her, an opportunity Susan had wasted.
‘And that smart young man is Tayo,’ I said, as Aimee pointed to his photograph. ‘He stayed with me for nearly a year and then went to live in a different country with his gran. And that’s Reece. He lives with his aunt and uncle on a farm.’
‘So all these kids lived here, and when the judge made his decision they went to live with a forever family?’ Aimee said. We’d already talked about the judge and forever families, so Aimee had an understanding of these terms.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said. ‘And they’re all very happy.’
‘Did the kids have to go?’ Aimee now asked, closing this album and opening the next.
‘Yes, and they wanted to,’ I said. ‘The judge is very wise and knows what’s best for children, and what will make them happy.’
‘I see,’ Aimee said, turning another page. ‘I guess the judge will say I can’t go back to live with my mum?’
‘I think that will be his decision, yes,’ I said gently. ‘Your mother loves you but she can’t look after you, can she?’
Aimee shook her head. ‘No. I had to look after my mum. She didn’t look after me, and it was very hard.’
‘I know. That was too much responsibility for a child. It can make you sad and very worried. Parents need to look after their children, not the other way round.’ I’d said similar things before, but Aimee’s life for eight years had been exactly that, and it did no harm to confirm from time to time what should have been.
Aimee came to the end of the album and, having had enough of looking at photographs, slipped from the sofa and went off to play. The notion that children left me to live happily with forever families had been seeded in Aimee’s mind, so that if the judge decided to send her to live with Jason it wouldn’t come as such a shock. I always try to prepare the children I foster for all eventualities, and if Aimee stayed with us, well, no harm had been done. I’d no idea of the timescale or when the final court hearing would be, but once the permanent social worker was in place the following week I hoped it would all become clearer. Such uncertainty is
not only unsettling for the child, who doesn’t know where they will be living in the future, but also for the foster carer and their family too. I couldn’t, for example, plan ahead and book a summer holiday, as I didn’t know if Aimee would be with us.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A Winner Now
It was the end of the following week before the new social worker phoned and when he did it was clear he’d been very busy. Introducing himself as Norman, he told me he’d arranged two meetings for the following week, which he hoped I would be able to attend: the long-overdue PEP (personal education plan) and a permanency planning meeting. I reached for my diary and, confirming I could attend, wrote in the dates, times and venues for the meetings.
‘I also need to visit Aimee,’ Norman said. ‘Can I come on Tuesday of the week after? After school – say four fifteen?’
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ I said, and turning the page in my diary made another note.
Norman had a warm but authoritative voice with a slight trace of a north of England accent. I guessed he was an experienced social worker from the way he’d quickly grasped Aimee’s case and prioritized what needed doing. He asked how Aimee was and I gave him an update. Then he asked if I had any issues that needed addressing.
‘Nothing new,’ I said, ‘although telephone contact between Aimee and her mother remains problematic and unsatisfactory. Aimee gets annoyed if her mother doesn’t answer and when she does they don’t seem to have much to say to each other. I’m wondering if Susan finds the phone contact difficult too. I mentioned this to the Guardian and she was going to look into it.’
‘I haven’t heard anything from Eva. I’ll phone Susan and see if she will agree to a reduction in phone contact,’ Norman said.
‘Have you spoken to Susan?’ I asked, mindful that past experience suggested Susan wasn’t agreeable to much.