by Cathy Glass
‘Do you like cats?’ Preeta asked Molly, but she didn’t reply.
‘They don’t have any animals at home,’ Tess said as she wrote.
Paula appeared at the living-room door and smiled a little self-consciously. ‘Oh they’re sweet,’ she said. The children shifted their gaze to her.
‘This is Molly and Kit,’ I said. ‘Can you join us? I think it might help them.’ So often, looked-after children take to the carer’s children before they feel relaxed enough to begin to form a relationship with the carer.
‘Sure,’ Paula said, coming further into the room. ‘Shall I play with them?’
‘Yes, please.’ I took some of the toys out of the box as Paula sat on the floor beside them.
‘Do you want to play with these farm animals?’ she asked the children. Molly stared at her, but Kit scrambled down from Preeta’s lap and sat near Paula.
‘Well done,’ I said to her.
‘You’ve hurt your arm,’ she said to Kit, referring to the plaster. Molly, wanting to stay close to her brother, now left the sofa and sat beside him.
I smiled, relieved. It was a start.
‘I’ll give you some background information, then perhaps we can go into another room for the rest?’ Tess suggested, so I knew that some of what she had to tell me she didn’t want the children to hear. While Kit at eighteen months would have a limited understanding of what he heard, Molly at three and a half would probably understand most of it. Bad enough to have witnessed whatever had happened at home without having to hear it discussed.
‘The parents are called Aneta and Filip,’ Tess began. ‘Filip is forty and fifteen years older than his wife. They have been married five years and these are their only children. They live in Eastwood.’ It was a new housing estate on the edge of town. ‘Aneta is a full-time mother and homemaker, and Filip is a warehouse manager who works very long hours. The family hadn’t come to the attention of the social services before the start of this week. Aneta took Kit to the hospital in a lot of pain, and he was found to have a fractured arm. The mother is claiming he fell down the stairs, but the doctor had doubts.’
I saw Molly look over. Tess and Preeta saw it too. ‘Why don’t I go somewhere private now to talk to Cathy,’ Tess suggested to Preeta, ‘while you stay here with the children?’
‘Yes, I think that’s best,’ Preeta replied.
‘Are you OK to stay here too?’ I asked Paula, aware that she would have college work to do.
‘Yes.’
‘We’ll be in the front room,’ I said.
Preeta joined Paula and the little ones on the floor with the toys as Tess quickly finished the last of her coffee and stood. I showed her into the front room where she closed the door so we couldn’t be overheard. Away from the little ones, her professional reserve and composure dropped and she sank into one of the armchairs. ‘Who’d be a social worker?’ she said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘It doesn’t get much worse than this.’
Chapter Two
Chaos
‘The children’s mother, Aneta, was hysterical,’ Tess continued as we sat in the front room. ‘It was dreadful. She was clinging to the children, screaming and crying, trying to fight us off and stop us from taking them. The father – Filip – had to restrain her so we could leave with the children. Only he was in court; she stayed at home with the children. I’ve told him to call their doctor. I’ll phone him after we’ve left here. He managed to pack a case with a few things for the children. Aneta couldn’t. It’s in my car – don’t let me drive off with it.’
My heart ached from the scene Tess had just described. ‘So the parents had no idea the children would be coming into care?’ I asked.
‘They knew we were going to court this morning. We advised them to get legal representation, but they didn’t think it would be necessary. They will contact a solicitor now,’ Tess said, and I nodded. ‘Aneta insists Kit fell downstairs. Filip was at work and is standing by his wife and maintains she would never harm the children, that she loves them too much.’ She paused to check her phone, which was on silent. I knew there must be more to it than this, as the judge would never allow the social services to remove the children because of one accident. ‘That visit to the hospital’, Tess continued, returning the phone to her pocket, ‘was the sixtieth time she’d been with Kit.’
‘What?’ I gasped. ‘He’s only eighteen months old. That makes a visit nearly every week!’
Tess nodded sombrely. ‘Questions will be asked as to why the social services weren’t involved sooner. True, many of the previous visits were for ailments and minor injuries, but even so. Aneta was turning up regularly, saying the child had tripped and fallen, was sick, had ingested something they shouldn’t, had a cough, rash or high temperature. She was clearly anxious about her children’s health, but it was only on Monday when it was found that Kit had a broken arm that the history of her visits was thoroughly reviewed and the alarm raised. Now it seems similar had been going on at their doctor’s. I’m applying for the children’s medical records, but the doctor I spoke to said that Aneta was there most weeks – first with Molly and then with Kit. Her visits with Molly were initially put down to new-mother anxiety. It’s not unusual for first-time mothers to be anxious about their baby’s health and to keep seeking medical advice about minor ailments. But it continued with Kit and then the term “accident prone” started to be used. However, the children always appeared clean and Aneta was very attentive towards them. They were quiet while in the doctor’s and well behaved.’ She let out another heart-felt sigh. ‘Kit’s injury on Monday, plus the record of accidents for both children, crossed the threshold, so we felt they were at risk of significant harm and applied for the care order.’
‘And it’s a hundred per cent certain the injuries the children sustained were non-accidental?’ I asked.
‘You can never be a hundred per cent sure, but it is the most likely explanation and the judge agreed with us.’
I gave a small nod and sincerely hoped they were right, for the alternative – that the parents had been wrongly accused and had lost their children – was too awful to bear. ‘And contact?’ I asked. ‘Kit and Molly will be seeing their parents?’
‘Yes. I’ll set up supervised contact, probably three times a week to begin with.’
‘And the long-term care plan?’
‘A full care order. I can’t see them returning home.’
When Tess had finished telling me what she knew about the family we returned to the living room where Paula, Preeta and the children were still on the floor by the toy box. Kit now had a toy shaker in his hand, but neither child was playing. Molly had her thumb in her mouth and was snuggled close to her brother. The room was unnaturally quiet considering two children were there, but at least they weren’t crying.
‘We’ll just have a look around and go,’ Tess said to Preeta. Then to me, ‘Do you have everything you need for tonight?’ She crossed to the patio window and looked out.
‘Yes, I think so,’ I said.
‘Nice garden,’ she remarked, then went over to Molly and Kit. ‘We’re going to look at the other rooms now. Would you like to come and see where you are going to sleep?’
Kit kept his eyes on Paula, carefully watching her to see what she was going to do, while Molly had her head down, quiet, withdrawn and expressionless.
‘Would you like to come with us to see your bedroom?’ I tried, offering my hand to Molly. She shook her head, which was at least some response. ‘OK, stay here, you’ll see it later,’ I said positively. While it was usual for the children to look around the house with their social worker when they first arrived – or before, if it was a planned move and they had a chance to visit – it wasn’t essential, as it was for the social worker.
‘I’ll stay with them while you go,’ Preeta said to Tess.
Tess nodded.
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��This is the living room,’ I said to everyone. ‘It’s where we spend most of our time in the evenings and weekends.’ Tess then came with me into the kitchen-diner where I’d already put the children’s seats ready at the table. ‘Do you know if either of the children has any special dietary requirements?’ I asked her as she looked around.
‘No, I don’t. I’ll ask their father when I speak to him later and phone you.’
‘Can you also ask him if they have any allergies?’ It was worrying how little I still knew about the children, and I was responsible for them now.
‘Will do,’ Tess said. ‘Apparently their mother often told the doctor she thought the children were suffering from allergies, but they changed on each visit, so if the child had a slight rash, upset tummy or cough, Aneta put it down to an allergy.’
‘The doctor didn’t agree?’
‘I don’t think so, but I’ll check with the father.’
‘I’ve made a cottage pie for dinner. I hope that’s all right,’ I said. ‘I assume Kit is on solid food?’
‘I would think so at his age,’ Tess said. She sniffed the air. ‘I thought I could smell something good. I’ll ask about food when I phone Filip. He wasn’t in any state to talk about that this afternoon.’
‘Please also ask him about any likes and dislikes the children may have, and their routine,’ I added. While Molly was old enough to tell me what she liked or didn’t like – when she finally began to talk – Kit wasn’t, so it was important Tess found out as much as she could from the parents. I couldn’t do anything about the children actually being in care, but I could at least make their lives as comfortable as possible while they were with me.
‘Do you want to see down the garden?’ I asked Tess. She was looking through the window at the far end of the kitchen, which overlooked the back garden.
‘No, I can see it from here. Let’s have a quick look at the children’s bedrooms and then we’ll need to get going.’
I looked at her, concerned. ‘Bedroom,’ I said. ‘I hope Edith told you I only have one spare room. I’ve put a cot in there so the children will be sleeping together.’
‘Yes, that’ll be fine,’ she said, and we headed out of the kitchen-diner and down the hall. It was still very quiet in the living room. No sound of the children talking or playing. I didn’t show Tess the front room as we’d just been there, so we went upstairs to the children’s bedroom. ‘There’s not much space, but they can play downstairs,’ she said, voicing her thoughts. ‘It’s nice and light. How long have you been fostering?’
‘Twenty-five years.’
She nodded and headed out. I quickly showed her the other bedrooms and bathroom. ‘You’ll need to cover Kit’s plaster to keep it dry when you bath him,’ she said.
‘Yes, is there a follow-up appointment at the hospital?’
‘I would think so. I’ll ask Filip.’
We returned downstairs. Sammy, our cat, must have let himself in through the cat flap, for he was now sitting in the hall, trying to decide if it was advisable to go into the living room with strangers there.
‘Hopefully, the children aren’t allergic to cat fur,’ Tess remarked as we passed him.
‘I hope so too!’ For if they were, there was little I could do beyond what I did already: keep Sammy out of the bedrooms, comb him each day and regularly hoover. I couldn’t make him disappear.
‘You’ve got a nice bedroom,’ Tess told Molly and Kit as we entered the living room.
Molly looked at her, worried and confused. Suddenly she jumped up from where she was sitting on the floor and cried, ‘I need a wee!’ But it was too late. A puddle formed at her feet. She burst into tears.
‘It’s OK, don’t worry,’ I said, immediately going to her. ‘I’ll mop it up and we’ll find you some more clean clothes.’
‘We’ll leave you to it,’ Tess said. ‘I’ll phone you as soon as I’ve spoken to their father.’
She and Preeta said goodbye to the children and headed out.
‘Don’t forget the suitcase in your car!’ I called after them.
‘I’ll leave it in the hall,’ Tess replied.
Seeing his sister upset, Kit now began to cry loudly. They both needed comforting, Molly needed changing again, and I had to mop up the wet before it soaked into the carpet. I heard Tess and Preeta open the front door and then my daughter Lucy’s voice. She must have been about to let herself in. ‘Hi,’ she said, surprised. Then, ‘What a noise!’
‘In here, Lucy, please!’ I called. ‘We could do with your help.’
She came into the living room and, surveying the chaotic scene, threw her jacket onto a chair. ‘And I thought I’d left work!’ she exclaimed with a smile. She was a qualified nursery nurse.
‘Meet Molly and Kit,’ I said over their cries. ‘Can you help Paula calm them down while I get a bucket and cloth?’
‘Come on, it’s OK,’ she said, taking Molly’s hand. Paula was holding Kit. I went quickly into the kitchen where I ran hot water into a bucket and added disinfectant. I took a cleaning cloth from the cupboard under the kitchen sink and returned to the living room.
‘I’m leaving the case here!’ Tess called from the hall. ‘Everything OK?’
‘Yes,’ I replied. I knew they needed to go. The front door closed behind them.
I knelt down and set to work on the carpet. ‘Shall I change Molly?’ Lucy offered.
‘Yes, please. Hopefully there is a change of clothes in the case in the hall.’
‘I’ll take the case upstairs with me.’
‘Thanks, love.’
Having seen his sister disappear, Kit began to cry more loudly and point towards the door. ‘Best go with them,’ I told Paula. She carried Kit out of the living room and joined Lucy and Molly in the hall as I continued to clean the carpet.
At the same time I heard the front door open and my son, Adrian, call, ‘Hi, Mum!’
Then Paula’s voice, ‘Hi, how are you, Kirsty?’
Oh no, I thought. We were hardly prepared for visitors. Kirsty was Adrian’s long-term girlfriend and I really liked her, but she’d walked into chaos. He usually let me know when he was bringing her home for dinner. ‘Hi, Mum. Kirsty’s here. Did you get my text?’ he called from the hall.
‘I expect so,’ I said, still on my knees. ‘I haven’t had a chance to check my phone. Come through.’
He appeared in the living room with Kirsty just behind him. ‘A little accident,’ I said, glancing up and smiling grimly. ‘Nearly done. Nice to see you, Kirsty. How was school?’ She was a teacher.
‘They had to switch off the water to repair a burst pipe so we were given the afternoon off.’
‘Very nice,’ I said. I patted the patch dry and stood. The crying upstairs had stopped.
‘Kirsty and I can eat out, Mum,’ Adrian offered.
‘No, It’s fine. I’ve done plenty. We’ll eat soon. As you saw we’ve got two little ones come to stay.’
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Kirsty kindly offered.
‘No. Make yourselves a drink. I’ll check on Kit and Molly and then we’ll have dinner.’
Adrian took the bucket into the kitchen to tip away the water and put the cloths in the washing machine, while I went upstairs to see how Lucy and Paula were getting on. My daughters were my nominated carers. Foster carers are encouraged to nominate one or two family members or close friends to help them out and babysit when necessary. They are assessed by the carer’s supervising social worker for suitability, and police-checked (now called a DBS check – Disclosure and Barring Service). Lucy had the added advantage of being a nursery nurse and the experience of being in care herself. She’d come to me as a foster child, stayed, and I’d adopted her. It was as if she’d always been my daughter.
‘How’s it going?’ I asked as I went into Kit and Molly’s bedroom. It w
as cramped now with Lucy, Paula, Kit and Molly all in there and the case open on the floor. The girls had found a dress for Molly, and Lucy was now helping her out of her wet clothes. There appeared to be a change of clothes in there for Kit too, pyjamas, some socks and a soft toy each, but nothing much else. The soft toys would be useful. Kit had spotted his and was now trying to get to it.
I smiled and took the toy from the case and gave it to him. He snuggled his face against its soft velvety fabric. I took out the other soft toy, which I assumed was Molly’s, and placed it on her bed. Similarly styled, it had big loving eyes and soft fur. Hopefully, having these would bring comfort to the children when they had to sleep in a strange room tonight.
‘We’re doing OK here, Mum,’ Lucy said as she changed Molly’s clothes.
‘Thanks. I’ll go and see to dinner. Come down when you’re ready, please.’
I gathered up Molly’s wet clothes and went downstairs, where I put them in the washing machine with her other soiled clothes and the floor cloths, and set it on a wash-and-dry program. Kirsty came into the kitchen. ‘Adrian’s gone to change out of his suit. Can I help you?’
‘You could lay the table, love. You know where everything is. There’s a child’s cutlery set for Molly in that drawer, and a toddler spoon for Kit. I don’t know if he can feed himself, but he’ll struggle anyway with the plaster on his arm.’
‘I didn’t know they were coming,’ Kirsty said as she opened the cutlery draw. ‘Are you sure it’s OK for me to stay?’
‘Yes, of course.’ I smiled. ‘I didn’t know they were coming either until this morning. It’s an emergency placement.’
‘What happened to Kit’s arm? And he’s got bruises on his face.’
‘He took a tumble down the stairs,’ I said.
‘Oh dear.’ She knew I couldn’t say much more because of confidentiality.
As she laid the table she told me about a boy in her class whose family was having help from the social services. While Kirsty and I would never break confidentiality by divulging names or discussing the details of cases like this, as a young teacher she sometimes shared her worries with me. If a child kept arriving at school dirty, late and hungry, or had unexplained injuries, she sometimes mentioned it as well as informing her head teacher. Teaching is now so much more than simply imparting knowledge; it involves a large pastoral role too.