Innocent

by Cathy Glass

I turned in my seat to look at her. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I was playing with him at the top of the stairs and I pushed him and he fell. I didn’t know he would fall all the way down and break his arm. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.’

  ‘And you can remember that?’ She nodded. ‘Where was Mummy?’

  ‘In the bathroom, brushing her teeth. She told me not to play on the stairs, but I did.’

  ‘OK, love. It was an accident. You didn’t mean to hurt him.’

  ‘He was crying and I was upset he was hurt.’

  ‘I know. It must have hurt him a lot. But you wouldn’t do anything like that again, would you?’

  ‘No. I was sorry. I love Kit.’

  ‘I know. Good girl. What made you tell me now?’

  She thought for a moment and then said, ‘Mummy is in hospital. It made me think about it.’ Which rang true. Children often remember traumatic events more acutely than happy ones. Kit’s broken arm was the last trauma she’d been through before coming into care and it had resulted in them all going to hospital. Of course, what Molly had said was highly significant as the injury had been considered non-accidental.

  I reassured Molly that Kit was fine now and his arm was completely healed, and once indoors I asked Paula to look after the children while I wrote up my log. I needed to do so while it was fresh in my mind and I used Molly’s exact words. Kit’s broken arm, suspected non-accidental injury caused by their mother, had been the deciding factor in bringing the children into care. I didn’t know what other injuries they had suffered prior to this that were thought to be non-accidental, but if what Molly had said was true – and I had no reason to doubt her – then Aneta wasn’t responsible for Kit’s broken arm. Some time ago Aneta had claimed she was innocent and it was Molly’s fault, and it seemed in this instance she was right. However, Molly, at her age, couldn’t be held responsible, as she wouldn’t have fully understood that pushing Kit could result in him being seriously injured. What bearing Molly’s disclosure would have on the child-protection case I didn’t know, but as soon as the children were in bed I emailed Tess, typing exactly what Molly had told me from my log notes.

  Saturday morning, the invitation to the children’s review on 17th December arrived with booklets for the children to complete. As before, I filled in Kit’s and then sat with Molly and wrote down her answers. She wanted to draw a picture in the space at the end of the form for further comments and I gave her crayons. She drew a box and filled it with lots of different-coloured lines and circles, which she told me was a house with Mummy, Daddy, Kit, her and all of us living in it. I wrote what she’d said beside it.

  On Sunday we went to see my mother, minus Adrian, who was going to Kirsty’s for lunch, and once again Molly and Kit enjoyed the special attention that a grandparent can give. All their questions, comments and needs, regardless of how trivial, were responded to immediately. My mother loved to spoil the children we looked after, and Molly and Kit took it in turns to sit on her lap for a cuddle and to be made a fuss of. Molly told Mum about nursery and also that she used to push Kit, but she didn’t any more because it was unkind and hurt. I guessed that pushing Kit downstairs was still very much on her mind. Mum told Molly that we have to be kind to those younger than us and look after them, reinforcing what I’d been telling her. Molly also told my mother that her mummy was in hospital, and she was only seeing her daddy.

  On Monday morning, Tess telephoned. She thanked me for my email and asked if I thought Molly was telling the truth about pushing Kit downstairs or if she was being loyal to her mother by taking the blame. I said I thought she was telling the truth, partly because of the childlike way she’d described it. Tess said she’d read the contact supervisor’s report for Friday and the incident on the stairs hadn’t been mentioned, so it wasn’t Filip who’d suggested she take the blame. Apparently, he’d told Molly her mother was in hospital and had answered her questions, but that was all. I know of instances at contact where a parent, desperate to have their child returned or to escape a criminal prosecution, told their child to lie to their foster carer and social workers and take the blame for events that led to them coming into care, not appreciating that what they were saying was being written down by the contact supervisor and would find its way to their social worker.

  On Monday afternoon the children saw their father again and I took in another batch of photographs of Molly and Kit for Filip to keep. I gave them to him at the start of contact and he was very grateful. He seemed a bit more relaxed than he had on Friday and asked if we’d had a nice weekend and what we’d done. He said he’d worked Saturday and Sunday mornings and had visited Aneta in the afternoon. At the end of contact he thanked me again for the photographs and asked about the soft-play centre and the various parks that were shown in them. ‘I’ll show them to Aneta,’ he said. ‘I’m going there now, straight after contact.’

  ‘Have a good evening,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you, and you. Will you be at the review on Thursday?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. I’ll see you there.’

  As I came away I wondered as to the wisdom of showing Aneta the photographs when she’d been so opposed to me taking the children out. However, foster carers are expected to give the parents photographs, sometimes video clips, as well as including photos in the child’s Life Story Book. I could hardly have told Filip not to show Aneta. It was his decision, he was in regular contact with his wife, knew how she was progressing and had clearly forgiven her for harming their children far more readily than I was doing. I was struggling to come to terms with what she’d done, and couldn’t help thinking of all the times she’d made little Molly and Kit sick while at home and after coming into care.

  On Thursday, the day of the review, Molly went to nursery as usual in the morning. When I collected her, I had to do a quick turnaround to be at the review for 1.30 p.m., so I had a sandwich lunch ready for them at home. I’d asked Maggie to babysit again and she arrived fifteen minutes early, but without Keelie.

  ‘She’s in school!’ Maggie declared triumphantly as she came in. ‘She’s finally woken up to the fact that she’ll need qualifications to have a career in childcare. In part, that’s thanks to you. Or rather these two little darlings …’ We’d gone through to the kitchen-diner where Molly and Kit were seated at the table, having their lunch. Maggie kissed the top of their heads. ‘Thanks to you two treasures Keelie wants to become a nanny.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ I said. ‘I’m sure she’ll be very good at it.’

  ‘Yes, although she only wants to be a nanny in a very rich family in Dubai where she’ll have her own flat, car and swimming pool, and be taken on holidays all over the world!’

  ‘Well, she’s aiming high,’ I laughed.

  ‘You can say that again!’

  I couldn’t stay to chat as I had to leave, so, saying goodbye to Molly and Kit, I left them to it. As I went down the hall I heard Molly ask Maggie when she would see Keelie again and Maggie replied, ‘This Saturday, at the fostering Christmas party.’

  ‘Great!’ I called, and let myself out of the front door.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Wonder of Christmas

  The Guardian ad Litem and Edith weren’t present at the review. There was no obligation for the Guardian to attend, as there was for the social worker and foster carer, and Edith was ill, I learnt. They would be sent copies of the minutes when they were circulated. Filip said he’d come straight from work and Tess arrived carrying a mug of coffee, saying she’d come straight from another meeting. The Independent Reviewing Officer (IRO) was the same one as last time – Mary Bridges. She opened her laptop, thanked us for coming, noted apologies for absence and then asked us to introduce ourselves. ‘Your wife won’t be joining us then?’ she asked Filip.

  ‘No. She’s still in hospital.’

  She nodded. ‘So this is the second review for Molly and Kit
and I see quite a lot has happened since the last one. Cathy, would you like to start by telling us how the children are now, please?’

  I had my notes ready on the table in front of me. The IRO was right when she said a lot had happened since the last review, but it wasn’t for me to cover it all, and I chose my words carefully. ‘Kit’s broken arm has healed,’ I began positively, ‘so he no longer has to wear a splint, and there are no more follow-up appointments.’ I paused to allow the IRO time to type. ‘Both children are well and up to date with their health checks,’ I continued. ‘Kit was hospitalized at the end of October when he was very sick and developed a rash and difficulty breathing. I called an ambulance and he was admitted overnight, but he recovered by the follow morning. It was at a time when both children were being sick – throughout September and October. They stopped being ill at the beginning of November when it was discovered what was causing them to be sick.’ I paused again to allow the IRO to catch up. I wouldn’t mention Aneta’s FDIA unless asked. Tess would cover that if she felt it appropriate, and the IRO would have been made aware of it prior to the review.

  ‘Molly and Kit are both doing very well,’ I continued. ‘Molly is attending nursery two mornings a week and is really enjoying it.’ The IRO smiled as she typed. ‘She’s learning how to share and is making friends. I take Kit to a playgroup one afternoon a week where I stay, and he likes playing with the other children.’

  ‘How are Molly and Kit getting along with each other?’ the IRO asked.

  ‘Molly sometimes has to be reminded that Kit is younger and smaller than she is, and she mustn’t push him, but generally she’s more aware of her actions. Apart from a little sibling rivalry, they get along like most brothers and sisters their age.’

  ‘Do they still sleep in separate rooms?’

  ‘Yes, Molly has her own room and Kit’s cot is in my bedroom. Both children eat well and generally sleep well,’ I continued. ‘They are healthy and happy.’

  ‘Do they have any allergies?’ the IRO asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do they take any regular medication?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And the food diary? Are you still keeping it?’

  ‘No. The police needed it.’ I kept my eyes away from Filip.

  ‘Any accidents or injuries?’ she asked. It was a standard question.

  ‘Only the usual falls from playing in the park or garden, so a few bruises on their knees but nothing serious. I make a note of all accidents in my log.’

  The IRO nodded. ‘What do the children like to do in their spare time? Can you give an example of a typical day?’

  I described an average day and talked a bit about the activities they liked to do at home and also the outings we went on.

  ‘Thank you. Contact has just been re-established; how is that going?’ she asked.

  ‘It was only resumed last Friday, but it’s going well so far. The children haven’t seen their mother. Contact is just with their father at the Family Centre.’

  She nodded as she typed. ‘And the children can stay with you until the final court hearing?’ It was another standard question.

  ‘Yes.’

  Filip shifted in his seat and made as if to say something but stopped.

  ‘Is there anything else you would like to add?’ the IRO asked me.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ I glanced at my notes. ‘Just that the children are doing well and are a delight to look after.’

  ‘Good,’ the IRO said, and then asked Tess to give her report.

  Tess began by confirming the care plan was up to date and that she was in regular contact with me and visited the children at least every four weeks. She said both Molly and Kit had continued to suffer bouts of sickness after they’d come into care, but that these had stopped with the diagnosis of Aneta’s FDIA, also known as Munchausen syndrome by proxy. She had to spell it for the IRO. She then said Aneta was receiving psychiatric care as a voluntary patient, and gave the name of the hospital and the date she was admitted.

  ‘Do we know when she is likely to be discharged?’ the IRO asked.

  ‘No,’ Tess said. ‘Not at present. I am hoping to speak to the psychiatrist next week.’ She then said that there were no plans for the children to see their mother at present or to increase contact with their father. ‘However, Filip has applied to have the children returned home,’ she said.

  ‘Really?’ the IRO asked, clearly as unaware of this as I was.

  I looked at Filip, who was concentrating on Tess, his expression serious.

  ‘Yesterday we heard from their solicitor,’ Tess said. ‘Filip is asking that the children be returned home, and he will put in place childcare until his wife is well enough to be discharged from hospital and look after them. It’s likely we will oppose the application.’

  ‘Has a court date been set for that hearing?’ the IRO asked as she typed.

  ‘No, not yet. We’ll need time to prepare for it: a psychiatric assessment for Aneta, general medicals, the police report, DBS checks and parenting assessments for both parents.’

  I glanced at Filip again, but his expression gave nothing away. I was surprised he’d applied to have the children returned to his care. I thought he didn’t have a chance. Apart from the practicalities of arranging childcare around the hours he worked, he’d had virtually no experience of bringing up his children before they’d come into care. Also, as far as I knew, Aneta still faced the possibility of police prosecution, and she was a voluntary patient at a psychiatric unit. Supposing she discharged herself before she was well and went home? Little wonder Tess had said the social services would oppose Filip’s application.

  There was some discussion between the IRO and Tess about the timing of the various court hearings and then the IRO asked her if there were any complaints that needed to be noted. Tess said there were and briefly outlined the complaints Aneta had made during September and October, some of which I was aware of. I saw Filip shift uncomfortably in his seat.

  The IRO thanked Tess for her report and then said to Filip, ‘Would you like to speak now?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ He drew himself up and took a breath. I guessed then that whatever he was about to say he’d given a lot of thought to – he didn’t have any notes. ‘I don’t sleep at night for thinking about what my wife did to our children,’ he began, his voice tight. ‘I blame myself for not noticing the harm she was causing them or that she was mentally ill. At the time I thought I was doing the right thing, working seven days a week to give my family a reasonable standard of living, but clearly I was wrong. Had I been at home more I might have seen what was going on. It crucifies me to think how Molly and Kit suffered – constantly being sick and having to undergo all those needless tests at the hospital. I let my children down badly, more so than Aneta, who was mentally unwell.’ He paused and took a deep breath, trying to contain his emotion.

  ‘It’s all right. Take your time,’ the IRO said.

  He nodded. ‘Thank you. My wife hasn’t always been like this. She can be loving and caring. We both wanted a family and she was overjoyed when she found out she was expecting. But she was very anxious and being a mother brought back many dark memories of her own childhood. I am not making excuses for what she did, but you should know she was badly abused as a child by her mother. She hasn’t seen her since she left home at the age of sixteen. She didn’t ever want to talk about what happened, but she probably should have done. She’s talking about it now to the psychologist at the hospital. Aneta is not a bad person. She’s ill and the doctors are making her better.’ He paused again to compose himself.

  ‘I have spoken to the doctor and I’ve also attended a therapy session with my wife. She is being helped to identify the feelings from her past that caused her to act as she did. She is also learning to change her behaviour and to see that healthy relationships don’t rely on someone be
ing ill. I believe she is recovering and that in time she will be able to look after our children again, or rather we both will. I intend to do more. The doctor is positive and has treated other people with FDIA. I see Aneta every day and she always wants to know what Molly and Kit are doing. She is pleased they are well and happy, and bears no grudges, but, like me, she believes the children should be at home. I waited a long time to marry and have children, and I love Molly and Kit just as Aneta does. I couldn’t bear it if I never saw them again. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring my children home.’ His voice broke and his eyes filled. ‘Sorry,’ he said, embarrassed. ‘Can you give me a minute?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ the IRO said sensitively. ‘It’s a very emotional time.’

  There was silence as Filip took a cotton handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes. I was choked up. He came across as a good, kind man, and what he’d said had been heartfelt and sincere. I thought that Aneta was very lucky to have him as a husband and the children to have him as a father. But I doubted how much of what he’d said would sway the social services or a judge. Their priority was to keep the children safe and make sure they were well looked after. They would need to be certain that if the children were returned home they wouldn’t be in any danger. The evidence for that would come largely from the reports Tess had mentioned, and they would take many months to complete.

  ‘Is there anything else you’d like to add?’ the IRO gently asked Filip after a few moments, when he was more composed.

  ‘Only that I have every faith my wife will make a complete recovery, and I would ask the social services to do the same. We love our children and need to be together again as a family as soon as possible.’

  ‘Thank you,’ the IRO said. ‘We wish your wife well.’

  The IRO then asked Tess a few questions about the legal aspects of Filip’s application and the timing, and drew the meeting to a close by setting the date for the next review in June – in six months’ time. When children first come into care they have a review within the first twenty days, then three months after that, then every six months unless something happens in the interim.