by Cathy Glass
‘Good point,’ Tess said. ‘I’ll tell her.’
‘Thank you.’ We said goodbye.
When I returned to collect the children, parting was easier. I waited just inside the door while Aneta kissed them goodbye, then Filip brought them to me. As he handed them over he thanked me for looking after them, which was thoughtful. He also said he’d taken compassionate leave from work and was seeing more of his children now than he ever had.
However, while parting had been calmer, halfway home in the car both children were violently sick.
Chapter Ten
Bonding
I pulled into a side road where I cleaned up Molly and Kit as best I could with wipes, reassured them, and then continued to drive home with the windows down. Paula was already home and, while not overjoyed at the prospect of dealing with sick, helped me strip the children and bath them. Once they were clean and we’d washed their hair, we dressed them in their pyjamas and took them downstairs to play. They were able to play more now, which was a good sign and showed they were starting to accept their new surroundings. Lucy returned home from work. ‘Mum, do you know you’ve left the windows down on your car?’ she called, coming into the living room.
‘Yes, love, there’s a reason for that,’ I said, and told her the children had been sick in the car. I left her with Paula to entertain Kit and Molly while I filled a bucket with hot water and disinfectant and went out to clean up the car.
As anyone who has ever had to clean vomit from a car knows, it goes everywhere – into the material, door pockets, seams and crevices – and the smell is overpowering and lingers for weeks. It had happened to me a couple of times before and eventually I’d paid to have the car valeted to get rid of the smell, and might do so again. But more worrying was what had made Kit and Molly so sick. They appeared to have no other symptoms, although I’d be keeping a close eye on them. Their sickness had been violent and sudden. Later, when I had the chance, I’d go through the food diary looking for a possible culprit. I felt dreadful that something I’d given them might have caused them both to be sick. Yet at the same time it could help identify what had caused the reaction. I wondered why Aneta hadn’t kept a food diary if it was going to help identify their allergies.
After half an hour of scrubbing, the back of the car was clean but now reeked of disinfectant – marginally preferable to vomit. I closed the car doors but left all the windows down a little, and returned indoors. The children were still being entertained by Paula and Lucy in the living room and, having checked on them, I set about preparing dinner, although I didn’t have much of an appetite after cleaning the car. I thought the children should probably have something plain, so I made a pasta bake and added a side of chicken pieces for those who wanted it.
Adrian arrived home as I was cooking and, coming into the kitchen, said helpfully, ‘Mum, you’ve forgotten to close your car windows. If you give me your keys, I’ll close them.’
‘It’s OK, love, I didn’t forget.’ I told him that Molly and Kit had been sick in the car and I was airing it.
‘Glad I’ve got my own car,’ he quipped.
‘Yes, and I might be using it if I can’t get rid of the smell,’ I returned, and then asked him if he could help me move Kit’s cot into my bedroom, and explained why.
‘You really think Molly is capable of harming her brother?’ he asked, astounded.
‘No, I don’t, but their social worker wants them separated, although they share a bedroom at home.’
He shrugged non-committally, then came with me upstairs to help me move the cot while the dinner cooked in the oven. ‘Adrian, if you do see Molly hurting her brother in any way, you’d let me know, wouldn’t you? I’ll mention it to Lucy and Paula too.’
‘Yes.’ But I could see from his expression he doubted Molly would harm her brother.
It was 6.45 by the time we all sat down to dinner. Molly and Kit were still not showing any signs of an allergic reaction and, having recovered from being sick, ate a reasonable amount, but they were tired. By the end of the meal they were both yawning. I had yet to tell Molly of the change in sleeping arrangements.
‘Time for bed,’ I said. ‘Now you’re a big girl you can have a bedroom all to yourself. Kit will sleep in his cot in my room.’ I told Paula and Lucy I’d explain the reason to them later.
It had occurred to me that having Kit and Molly sleeping in different rooms also meant that they were unlikely to wake each other and I could put them to bed at different times. I usually take the youngest up first. ‘So now you’re a big girl,’ I continued positively, ‘you can stay up a bit later and play for longer, while I put Kit to bed.’
She liked this. I picked up Kit and everyone kissed him goodnight. He giggled. Lucy and Paula took Molly into the living room to play and read her some stories, while I put Kit to bed. Adrian went to his room as he had some work to do on his laptop. I brushed Kit’s teeth and then settled him in his cot in my room. To begin with he kept standing up and looking around, intrigued. Clearly it was another change for him, but eventually he stayed lying down and, with me stroking his forehead, he drifted off to sleep. I crept out, reminding myself that I’d have to be careful not to disturb him when I came to bed. No more listening to the radio or reading by the light of the lamp.
It was now Molly’s bedtime. Lucy and Paula kissed her goodnight and I took her up to the bathroom and helped her brush her teeth. It was only when we went into her bedroom that she fully appreciated Kit wasn’t there.
‘Where’s Kit?’ she asked anxiously.
‘He’s sleeping in my bedroom. Remember, I told you downstairs?’
‘Why?’
‘Because your social worker feels it’s better for you both. As you’re a big girl you can have your own bedroom like Paula, Lucy and Adrian have.’
‘I don’t want my own bedroom. I want Kit.’ Her face crumbled and she began to cry.
‘Oh, love, don’t upset yourself.’ I put my arm around her, trying to comfort her. ‘You’ll see Kit in the morning.’
‘I want to see him now,’ she said. ‘I want Kit. I want Mummy, I want to go home.’
Unsurprisingly the change in arrangements had unsettled her and she got very upset and then angry, demanding I bring Kit back. Adrian looked in to see what was the matter and I signalled to him that it was OK, so he left us to it. Eventually I asked Molly, ‘Would you like to see where Kit is sleeping?’ She nodded. I probably should have shown her before. ‘OK, let’s dry your tears and I’ll show you. You’ll have to be very quiet, we don’t want to wake him.’
I wiped her face with a tissue and then, holding her hand, I led her round the landing to my room. I’d left the door slightly ajar so I could hear him if he woke. ‘Very quietly,’ I whispered, and put my finger to my lips to emphasize this. ‘We mustn’t wake him.’
I eased the door open and we crept across the room to Kit’s cot. It was against the opposite wall so I could see him from my bed. He was fast asleep, lying flat on his back, mouth relaxed open, and his arms flung out, the picture of peacefulness and cherubic innocence. I was about to take Molly out again now she’d seen him, when she suddenly grabbed the side of the cot and shook it violently. ‘Wake up!’ she shouted at the top of her voice. Kit’s eyes shot open and he began to cry.
‘That was naughty,’ I told Molly as I picked up Kit.
‘I don’t want him in here,’ she cried angrily.
Taking Molly’s hand, I took her back to her room. ‘Stay there while I see to Kit,’ I told her firmly. ‘That was naughty to wake him after I asked you to be quiet.’
Bad as I felt for telling her off, she needed to learn, and I left her for a few minutes to reflect on what she’d done wrong, while I retuned Kit to his cot. I had no idea why she’d purposely woken him. Perhaps it was jealousy or simply a wish to have her own way. As I resettled Kit, I heard Adrian come out of hi
s room and ask Molly, ‘What’s the matter?’
She stopped crying.
Then I heard Lucy go into Molly’s room.
Five minutes later Kit was asleep again and I went to Molly. I thanked Adrian and Lucy for their help and they returned to their rooms. Molly was in bed and calm now – the incident had passed and we could move on. ‘Off to sleep now, good girl. It’s getting late.’
She closed her eyes and was soon asleep.
I went to Paula and Lucy and explained why Kit and Molly had to sleep apart. I asked them to tell me of any incidents they witnessed of Molly hurting Kit, as I would need to log them and tell their social worker. At some point the case would go back to court and if there was evidence that Molly was harming Kit it could support some of what Aneta was claiming and cast doubt on whether she was abusing her children. It was important I noted every incident accurately. Paula, like Adrian, doubted that Molly could intentionally hurt Kit, but Lucy, with childcare qualifications and working in a nursery, said, ‘Children can be quite cruel to each other, even little ones. We have a boy at the nursery who is just three and he tries to harm others. He hits them, sometimes with objects, pinches them, pulls their hair and pushes them over. We have to watch him the whole time. His mother says it started when his younger sister was born, so she thinks it’s jealousy.’
I nodded. It was plausible that Molly was harming Kit out of jealousy, but why had Aneta let them share a bedroom? If she believed Molly was capable of hurting Kit, surely she would have separated them? It still didn’t make sense.
That evening I wrote up my log notes, and then carefully went through the food diary for the day. Virtually everything I’d given Kit and Molly to eat they’d had in some form before and it hadn’t caused a reaction – milk, eggs, pasta, bread, fruit, yoghurt and so on. The only new item was the cream cheese I’d put in their sandwiches, which I’d given to them as a snack after their medical and they’d eaten in the car. I doubted that had made them sick, but I made a note and would leave it out of their diet for now, maybe try it again in a few weeks. Before I went to bed I emailed Tess so she would read it in the morning. I said contact seemed to end well but both children had been sick in the car on the way home. I wrote that they had no other symptoms and the only new food I’d introduced that day was cheese spread, which I wouldn’t give them again. I reminded her to let me know what food they’d had at contact.
It was nearly midnight by the time I was ready for bed and crept into my bedroom, careful not to disturb Kit. I’m a light sleeper and am used to sleeping by myself, so I heard Kit’s every movement that night: his snuffles, smacking his lips and of course his plaster cast banging against the side of the cot, which woke me but not him. I didn’t mind. It was a long time since I’d had a little one in my bedroom and it brought back many happy memories of my own children and those I’d fostered. After a while you don’t remember the sleepless nights and exhaustion of looking after little ones, just the good bits. However, shortly after 2 a.m. I got the shock of my life. I was half asleep, lying on my side, facing Kit’s cot, when I heard my bedroom door open behind me. I turned and sat bolt upright, my heart pounding. There stood Molly, framed in the small light coming from the landing. ‘I want Kit,’ she said.
I was out of bed in a second. ‘Sshh, love, quietly.’ I took her hand and led her back to her room. ‘You need to stay in your own bed. Kit’s asleep and you’ll see him in the morning.’
‘I want him now,’ she demanded.
‘In the morning,’ I said gently but firmly. I put her back to bed and tucked her in. The poor child had had so many changes to cope with, doubtless she’d taken comfort from having Kit in her room. I settled her with her soft toy, said goodnight, came out and returned to my bed. Kit was still asleep. Ten minutes later Molly reappeared at my door. ‘I want Kit,’ she said loudly.
Again, I was straight out of bed. ‘You’ll see him in the morning,’ I said more firmly and took her back to bed.
I waited on the landing and in a few minutes she came out of her room again. I took her back, and she repeated this another four times, before eventually staying in bed and going back to sleep. She was persistent to say the least, as many children her age are, but it didn’t mean she was capable of harming her brother, she just wanted to be near him.
The next time I woke it was after 6 a.m. and as I opened my eyes I saw Kit standing in his cot and looking at me, grinning. I smiled back, got straight out of bed and picked him up to give him a hug. He was such a dear little chap and was taking all the changes really well. His nappy needed changing and I realized the clean nappies and wipes were still in what was now Molly’s room. I returned Kit to his cot, gave him his soft toy and went round to Molly’s room. She was still asleep. I quietly collected together the items I needed, plus a few toys to keep Kit amused, and returned to my bedroom. He grinned at me as I changed him and then, pointing to me, said, ‘Mummy.’ My heart clenched.
‘No, love, I’m Cathy. You’ll see Mummy and Daddy again tomorrow.’ But how confusing it must be for a child of his age.
I returned him to his cot with his toys so that I could quickly shower. I needed to be ready before the children were up, otherwise I wouldn’t get another opportunity. Having showered, I dressed in my bedroom so I could keep an eye on Kit, who was still amusing himself. ‘Good boy.’
I’d just finished dressing when I heard a sound outside my bedroom door. Opening it, I found Molly, clutching her soft toy and looking a bit sheepish.
‘Good morning, love,’ I said brightly. ‘You can come in now and see Kit. Well done for staying in your bed.’
She went over and, reaching through the slats of the cot, hugged him. ‘I love you, Kit,’ she said. I could easily have said, ‘So do I,’ for I knew I was quickly bonding with both children and it was going to be agony if and when I eventually had to say goodbye.
We spent most of Tuesday morning at the hospital having Kit’s plaster cast removed and the splint fitted. The nurse was lovely and gave Kit and Molly noise-reducing headphones to wear as she cut through the plaster with an electronic cutter. I could have done with a pair. The cutter made a high-pitched grating noise, which would be quite alarming to young children. After the plaster was cut off the nurse fitted the correct-size splint, showed me how tight it should be and then gave me an instruction sheet on the care of the splinted arm. We had an appointment in four weeks’ time, but she said to go back earlier if I had any concerns. We left with Kit waving his arm in the air and chuckling. It must have felt so much lighter now the plaster cast was off. He was lighter to pick up too.
We returned home for lunch and I noted what I’d given the children to eat in the food diary. As we ate, Molly remarked with a child’s honesty that she liked my juice better than her mummy’s, so I thought at least I’d done something right! With no contact that afternoon and the sun out I took them to our local park – the same park we’d been to with Lucy and Paula. It was early September and the air was starting to chill, especially in the evenings, so we had to make the most of fine days. The park was relatively empty as the schools and nurseries had returned for the autumn term. It was usual for a child of Molly’s age to be attending playgroup or nursery for at least a few half-days a week so they could learn to socialize. It was something I would raise with Tess. The children seemed to have led very insular lives, and once they were more settled I felt it would do them both good to play with their peers. Social interaction is important for young children as it develops their sense of self, what others expect from them and skills that will set them up for life. As Kit was still very young I could take him to a toddler group where the parent or carer stayed, as I had done with my own children and others I’d fostered at his age.
We spent an hour in the park and Kit and Molly enjoyed themselves. While they were occupied, they didn’t dwell so much on missing their parents; it was in the evening when they were tired that Molly in
particular became upset and wanted Mummy. When Paula, Lucy and Adrian came home they made a fuss of the children and admired Kit’s splint. We all had dinner together at 6.30. Afterwards, when I bathed the children, I was able to remove Kit’s splint and it was so much easier to wash him. I put the splint back on once I’d dried him. He didn’t mind at all. Lucy then read Molly a bedtime story downstairs while I put Kit to bed. We didn’t see much of Paula and Adrian that evening as they both had work to do – Paula for college and Adrian for the firm of accountants he worked for. He was five months into a trainee position and wanted to do well.
When I took Molly to bed she asked me, ‘Am I seeing Mummy tomorrow?’
‘Yes, love. You see Mummy and Daddy on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.’ I pointed to the children’s poster calendar I’d put on the wall. I didn’t expect her to remember, but the calendar gave her a sense of the days and time passing. There was also a children’s clock.
‘I hope I’m not sick when I see Mummy,’ she said as she climbed into bed.
‘No, you won’t be,’ I replied, maintaining my positive attitude.
Molly wasn’t sick after contact on Wednesday, neither of them were. But on Friday, as we arrived home, they were both sick and Kit had a rash on his chest.
Chapter Eleven
Exasperated and Worried
‘It’s only happening after contact,’ I told Tess on the phone. Very worried, I’d telephoned her straight away, and thankfully she was still at her desk at 5.30 p.m. Lucy and Paula were taking care of Kit and Molly. ‘Either the children are getting very upset at contact and they’re reacting by being sick or it’s something they’re eating there. I can’t think what else it can be.’