Where Has Mummy Gone?

by Cathy Glass

  ‘I reassured Melody as best I could,’ I said, touching her hand. ‘It’s a question that has come up before, usually after we’ve visited her mother. I try to explain to Melody that her mother is very ill, but it’s impossible to know when she will die. I’ve told her I don’t think it will be soon, but a man at the care home died in May and it seems to have stayed with Melody and played on her mind.’

  ‘Understandably,’ the IRO said. ‘Is it something that could be addressed by CAMHS?’

  ‘I don’t know if she’s spoken about it to the therapist,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll speak to Dr Short,’ Neave said, making a note.

  ‘I used to call him Mr Aeroplane Man,’ Melody said, ‘because every time anyone walked past his room he called out, “Quick, nurse! I have a plane to catch.” I never saw him, but I heard him. I was sad when he died and stopped calling out. Not many people there can talk and the corridor outside his room is too quiet now.’

  I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze as I looked at the expressions on the faces of those around me. Mr Wilson’s death had affected Melody. They were heartfelt words, and I could tell what Neave was going to say before she spoke. ‘It’s a lot for a child to cope with.’ It was indeed, and would add to the argument for reducing contact sooner rather than later – and maybe that was best for Melody.

  ‘Do you still want to visit Mummy in the care home?’ Jill asked, turning to Melody.

  ‘Yes,’ she said without hesitation.

  ‘Children don’t always know what’s best for them,’ Neave said, which of course was true.

  ‘Can I go now and finish my game?’ Melody asked.

  ‘Yes, unless there is anything else you want to tell your review?’ the IRO asked.

  Melody thought for a moment and then said, ‘Tell the doctors to try to make my mummy better.’ Standing, she quickly left the room.

  I went after her to check she was all right. She was on her way upstairs. ‘I’m going to find Lucy and Paula,’ she said, ‘so we can finish the game.’

  ‘OK, love. You did very well in there.’

  She seemed all right, so I returned to the living room and said that Melody was going to play with Paula and Lucy. The IRO thanked me and said he’d minute that Neave would ask Dr Short to do some work with Melody around bereavement and her mother’s illness. Then, with no other business, he set the date for the next review in three months’ time and, thanking us all for coming, closed the meeting.

  I was pleased that bereavement and Amanda’s illness were hopefully going to be addressed in Melody’s therapy. I felt I’d said all I could to try to reassure her, and the input of a skilled therapist should help, for as Neave said, Melody had a lot to cope with. I thought she was coping very well. I’m sure I wouldn’t have done so well if I’d been subjected to all the years of neglect, uncertainty and hardship Melody had, and then on top of that to see her mother’s dementia take away the person she knew. Melody’s half-brothers and sisters, all adopted as children many years ago, had been spared all of this. It was a great pity, I thought, that Melody hadn’t been taken into care much sooner. Whether she would ever fully recover from her experiences only time would tell. On the surface she seemed to be doing well, but it was impossible to know how she would be affected in the future. Some survivors of abuse (neglect is a form of abuse) manage to move on and lead successful lives, while others don’t, and have their adulthood blighted by their early years’ experiences.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Robbed of Dignity

  Adrian received his exam results on the 24th of August and thankfully achieved what he needed to continue studying in the sixth form. We celebrated with a meal out. A week later, the school holidays drew to a close and the new school term began. Melody was pleased to be seeing her friends again; Lizzie and her family had been away for most of the summer, staying with family in France. Miss May was in the playground on the first day to greet the children and Melody ran to her and gave her a big hug. Miss May looked very pleased. I asked her if she’d had a nice summer and she said she had, although it had been very quiet and she was pleased to be back.

  That afternoon, Melody came out of school smiling proudly with Miss May at her side.

  ‘I’ve put my name down to join the after-school sports club!’ Melody declared.

  ‘Fantastic! Well done!’ I said.

  I could see Miss May was pleased too. She knew it had been a target set by the review, and it was a sign of Melody’s ongoing improvement that she had finally found the confidence to achieve it. Miss May then gave me the details of the club with a permission slip to sign. It was held on Wednesdays, was open to all year groups and offered a variety of sports activities, including table tennis, indoor football, badminton, yoga, keep fit and dance.

  Play therapy continued on Tuesdays. I didn’t know if Neave had spoken to Marina about helping Melody come to terms with her mother’s illness and bereavement issues – Marina didn’t say. She came into the waiting room to collect the children at the start of the session and then returned them at the end, but gave no feedback. With school having resumed, I began visiting Amanda on alternate Fridays again. Her pacing had grown worse so that she wasn’t still for a minute. Not sure what to do for the best, but wanting to spend time with her, I followed her up and down the corridors and in and out of the rooms, some of which she wasn’t supposed to be in, like the men’s washrooms. She didn’t appear to be looking for anything but paced in an agitated manner – something I’d seen others there do. We weren’t in her room for long enough to sit and look at the photographs, but I did manage to replenish the fruit bowl and leave the box of cakes in her bedside cabinet before we continued our endless journey. If she stopped for a few seconds I tried to engage her attention, but it was hopeless. Because this and other such behaviours weren’t unusual in the care home, the care assistants accepted it and just smiled as we walked by yet again.

  Amanda was the same when I took Melody the following week and Melody and I both walked up and down with her, but the week after, when I visited alone, Amanda was much calmer. I wondered if she’d been given a sedative, although a care assistant told me that pacing was a phase dementia patients went through from time to time and it often settled of its own accord. Amanda was calm the next time, when I took Melody, and they sat at the table with the occupational therapist and filled lavender bags, and also spent time in Amanda’s room looking at photographs. However, I’m pretty sure that Amanda didn’t recognize Melody at all; the flashes of recognition seemed to have gone and her face was blank with a slightly downward turn, like most of the other residents there.

  At the end of September, Jill telephoned to say she needed to see me before our next scheduled meeting. I knew she had something important to say, otherwise she would have told me over the phone. Aware that Neave by now had visited the woman who wanted to adopt Melody, I guessed it was to do with her.

  ‘So has Neave decided this lady is a good match?’ I asked Jill over the phone.

  ‘Yes, but I’ll tell you more when I see you.’

  Two days later, Jill and I settled in my living room with a cup of coffee each and she began telling me what, as Melody’s foster carer, I needed to know about the woman who was hoping to adopt Melody. ‘She’s called Dana, she’s forty-one and is a social worker in child protection.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ I said. ‘In this area? Perhaps I know her.’

  ‘No. She doesn’t work here and I’ll come to that later. Neave is obviously aware of how demanding her job as a social worker is and the hours involved, and she had concerns that Dana wouldn’t be able to meet Melody’s needs, especially if Melody became unsettled after the move. However, when Neave visited Dana at her home with a member of the family-finding team, she was able to reassure her. She is proposing to take three months’ adoption leave to settle Melody in – more if necessary. She has a married sister who lives in the next street who will be her support carer so that if, for example, Dana
is delayed at work her sister will meet Melody from school and give her dinner and look after her until Dana is free. So there are no issues there.’

  I nodded. All foster carers and prospective adopters are expected to have a good support network.

  ‘Neave had another concern,’ Jill continued, taking a sip of her coffee. ‘In respect of Dana’s child.’

  ‘I thought Neave said Dana didn’t have any children.’

  ‘She doesn’t now,’ Jill said. ‘Sadly, twelve years ago she lost her only child, Katie, at the age of three from a rare genetic condition.’

  ‘Oh dear, I am sorry. How dreadful.’

  ‘Yes. Dana made the decision not to have any more children in case the same thing happened again. There is no screening yet for the condition she had and it can be passed on from parent to child. Her marriage folded as a result of their loss and Dana has been living alone for over eight years. Although time has passed, Neave was concerned that Dana might be trying to replace her daughter with an adopted child, which was never going to work. That concern was also raised during Dana’s adoption assessment. Neave discussed this with Dana and has been reassured. Dana appreciates that Melody will arrive with her own personality, and that the needs of a child Melody’s age with her early years’ experiences will be very different to those of Katie. One of the reasons she put herself forward to adopt Melody was because she is very different to the child she lost, not only in age and disposition, but physically they look very dissimilar. She has some photos of her daughter on display in the house and she had dark hair and brown eyes and was quite sturdy before her illness. Melody is fair haired with blue eyes and slightly built.’

  ‘So why does she want to adopt?’ I asked.

  ‘Dana always intended to have a family and would have applied to adopt with her husband had he not left her. She believes she has a lot to offer and with her experience as a social worker in child protection she won’t be under any illusions. Neave is satisfied her expectations are realistic and she appreciates Melody’s past cannot be undone and they will have to work with it.’

  ‘Good.’ I knew how important this was, for sometimes adoptions of older children fail because the parents have unrealistic expectations of the child – see Nobody’s Son.

  ‘Neave and the family-finding team believe it is a good match and that Dana is in an ideal position to meet Melody’s needs. And of course with Melody being an only child, Dana can devote all her spare time to her.’

  I nodded, but I felt sad. It was bittersweet, for while I clearly wanted what was best for Melody, it would mean that she was going to leave us after all. ‘So it’s definitely going ahead?’

  ‘Neave is planning to take it to the October panel, but obviously don’t say anything to Melody yet. Introductions won’t start until after it’s been to court, but Neave wants to reduce contact in preparation for a move in December. She would like you to start going to the care home every three weeks instead of two.’ Jill looked at me as if waiting for my objection, but I didn’t object.

  ‘It will be difficult for Melody, but I think that reducing contact is probably for the best. Not only to prepare her for meeting and bonding with her adoptive mother, but I am concerned the effect that seeing her mother’s deterioration is having on Melody.’

  Jill nodded and made a note. ‘I’ll pass this on to Neave.’

  ‘But, Jill, what will happen after the move? I think Melody should have some contact with her mother.’

  ‘Dana is aware of the situation and she has suggested she takes Melody to see Amanda once a month for as long as it is beneficial to Melody. She also wants to keep in touch with you.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I said, and I meant it, although time would tell if this happened. I knew that adopters often promised to keep in touch with the carer prior to the adoption, but once it had all gone through they didn’t maintain contact and there was no legal requirement to do so.

  ‘Dana is planning on combining the visits to Amanda with seeing you, as she lives over a hundred miles away.’

  ‘Does she? So Melody will have to change schools.’

  ‘Yes, but there are plenty of good schools in the area where she lives. Dana’s sister’s children go to a very good school a ten-minute walk away. Dana has already seen the headmistress and secured a place for Melody.’

  Clearly Dana had done all the right things. She would, I thought uncharitably, being a social worker; of course she’d know what was expected. But putting aside my selfish thoughts, I acknowledged that if Dana was right for Melody then that was all that mattered, and from the sound of it she was a good match. Jill’s next comment helped too.

  ‘Dana would like to meet you to learn more about Melody so the move runs smoothly. If you’re happy, Neave will pass on your contact details so you can arrange something.’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine with me,’ I said.

  That evening, once we’d had dinner, and there was just Melody and me, I gently broke the news to her that Neave had said we were to visit her mother every three weeks from now on.

  ‘Why? What’s it got to do with her?’ she demanded.

  ‘She’s your social worker and she can make these decisions if it’s best for you. Neave feels it’s upsetting for you to see your mother like she is now and I think she is right.’

  Melody looked taken aback. ‘But I don’t cry when I see Mummy,’ she protested.

  ‘I know, love, but there are different ways of feeling pain. I think that after we’ve seen her you think about her a lot and about some of the other residents there. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly.

  ‘That’s normal. I do too. But what I don’t want to happen – and neither does Neave – is that you remember your mummy like she is now. We want you to remember her as she was before she became ill.’ I appreciated that even then Amanda had struggled to cope and her parenting had been grossly lacking, but she and Melody had had a loving relationship. Better that Melody had that image of her mother – regardless of how inadequate she may have been – rather than the current one.

  ‘What, like when Mum and me used to do a runner in the middle of the night from the places we stayed, so we didn’t have to pay the rent?’ Melody suggested. ‘It was fun climbing out of the window.’

  ‘Yes, if you like,’ I said dubiously.

  ‘Or when Mummy and me used to cuddle up close in bed with our clothes on to keep warm? I liked to feel her arms around me.’

  ‘Yes, it’s nice to remember a cuddle.’

  ‘Or when we used to hide from the social worker and pretend we were out. I got the hiccups once so loudly Mummy had to put her hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t give us away. We were laughing so much. Or the time she pinched a pair of shoes for me so I could go to school. I never used them because we had to move again and they got left behind.’

  I smiled sadly. How different Melody’s recollections of her time with her mother were compared to those of the average child. But they were Melody’s memories, personal to her, and an improvement on how her mother was now. Back then she’d been feisty, able to communicate and make decisions for herself and Melody, even though they’d been the wrong ones. Now Amanda was a mere shadow of her former self, as though her personality had been hollowed out. Trapped in an expressionless existence and totally reliant on the care-home staff. It was much better that Melody remembered her mother laughing as they hid from their social worker.

  With Melody’s case going to the adoption panel next month and the final court hearing approaching, Nina French, the Guardian ad Litem, telephoned to say she needed to see Melody again. This time she gave me plenty of notice of her visit and appeared well informed and up to date. Sort of – for as I let her into the hall, she said, ‘So is Melody looking forward to meeting her new mummy?’

  ‘She’s not to be told yet,’ I said, glancing towards the living room and hoping Melody hadn’t heard.

  ‘Not the details, but I understand that Neave has talked
to her generally about adoption. She should have done by this stage.’

  ‘Yes, but that was months ago. It hasn’t been mentioned since and Neave asked me not to say anything just yet.’

  ‘OK, I’ll talk in general terms then, although at Melody’s age the judge will want to know what the child’s wishes are.’

  I showed Nina into the living room where Melody, used to having visits from professionals connected with her case, was now sitting on the sofa waiting patiently. Nina said hello and I asked her if she wanted me to stay in the room. She said I could, so I sat on the sofa next to Melody while Nina took one of the easy-chairs opposite us. She began by asking Melody about school, what she liked, her favourite subjects, her friends and so forth. Melody told her more or less what she’d told her review and Neave when she’d visited. Nina then talked to her about living with me and finally said she’d visited her mother in Oak Lane House.

  ‘When?’ Melody asked.

  ‘Two weeks ago.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I needed to see your mother so I could include her in my report to the judge for the final court hearing. Has Neave told you about that?’

  Melody looked at her carefully. ‘Did Mummy know who you were?’

  ‘I told her, but I don’t suppose she understood or remembered, do you?’

  ‘She doesn’t remember much any more,’ Melody admitted sadly.

  ‘I know. It must be very difficult for you to see her like that,’ Nina said. I knew where this was leading, although Melody didn’t reply.

  ‘I would find it difficult if she was my mother,’ Nina said.

  ‘Miss May’s dad was the same,’ Melody replied.

  Nina looked puzzled. ‘Miss May is the teaching assistant who helps Melody,’ I said. ‘Her father had dementia and was in the same care home. You met Miss May at Melody’s first review.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ She returned her gaze to Melody. ‘So you understand that your mummy has to stay in the care home where she can be looked after?’