Mummy's Still Here

by Jeanne D'Olivier

  I did not always agree with him and my gut instinct would gnaw away at me - was I really right to place this much trust in someone I had not yet even met and knew so little about? Looking back - perhaps not. I will never now know.

  The case passed through three different Judges in the preliminary hearings. The first Judge dealt with the Jurisdiction issue but not the issue of contact. The second Judge did address Contact and appointed a Cafcass Officer to our case. I believe this man did more damage to our case than pretty well anyone else in the UK proceedings. He had already been in contact with the former Guardian Ad Litem and Social Services who had coached him how to view me.

  I was a threat to the system because I did not accept the Fact Find Judgment and if I could get a UK Judge to question this, then all those who had supported R getting custody faced serious consequences and the risk of being sued. The Island's former Court Officers and Social Services could not take the chance of this and knowing that Cafcass would be appointed to the case as they routinely were in the Family Court, they had to ensure that my credibility was put in serious question, before we even began. I thus began the weary task of fighting for Contact, already on the back foot.

  Judges place a great deal of weight on Cafcass Officer's reports and they have huge power and influence. If you fail to get them onside for any reason, they can do untold damage and I had not even met this man yet. I knew from him demeanour and his reticence towards me and immediate acceptance of R, that I was already doomed. Hands had stretched across the water - I was fighting a losing battle from the start.

  It had also come to light at this time that the lawyer who had represented the former Guardian ad Litem had tried to get the proceedings in the UK halted. He had written to the Court insisting that the Island still held jurisdiction in this matter and done all in his power to keep control of the case. Whilst he did not succeed in getting his wish, this only confirmed further the lengths that those who had backed the former Judge in his decision to find for "no abuse", would go to, to protect what we saw as a hugely unjust and unsafe Judgement by a Judge who was as inexperienced, as he was reckless.

  Christopher was less pessimistic than I was about our position. He still felt with so much evidence that M wanted to sustain our relationship, that I had to end up with regular contact at the very least. I would sincerely like to have shared his optimism but having seen the system close ranks once before, I had a terrifying and nagging fear that I could lose contact forever. I quickly pushed this thought away as I followed the Cafcass Officer and R into a side room where we had been ordered to come to an agreement over contact.

  I remember this day very clearly - it was my birthday - the only gift I wanted was to see my son.

  Giles, the Cafcass Officer, looked like a tall version of Phil Mitchell from Eastenders. We had had some unpleasant people on our case, but this one was worse in many respects. He made no bones about his bias towards R from the get go, but did it in such a way as to make me look like the unreasonable one for wanting to see my son and taunted me with allegations of the abduction, coaching - every piece of poison that had been poured into his ear by the former Social Worker and Guardian. From someone who was supposed to be coming to the case with a fresh and untarnished perspective, this came as another unwelcome and unexpected shock. I protested I had been cleared of the abduction charge and had never been found by any Judge to have coached my son either, but it didn't make a scrap of difference. He just bullied me until I lost my cool and asked what was the point of us being there if no-one was going to agree to anything. In my frustration, I asked R - "What do you want me to do - walk away?"

  "You clearly don't care if you see him then." He bit back, grinning at Giles, who virtually laughed out loud as if to say "got you." Of course, I could never have walked away from M but they would not give an inch.

  Every offer I made for contact, including the fatal offer for R himself to supervise - was turned down flat. Neither he nor R were going to give me anything and the whole thing was a charade. I wished the Judge could have witnessed what went on in that room that day because for once we seemed to have a fair Judge.

  We went back into Court with nothing agreed. Giles then offered R supervising contact as he knew that he had to offer something. I protested to the Judge that when R was so openly hostile to me, to have him in my home and reporting on contact, would place me in a very vulnerable situation but she accepted the recommendation without question. It was that or back to a Contact Centre which in some ways may have been safer, but I felt that M would be happier coming to my home where we could play in the garden and where he still had some of his things from our cottage back on the Island, so for his sake, I agreed. The Judge attached a Penal Notice to the Contact Order which meant that R had no choice but to bring him, regardless of his wishes. Unlike on the Island where even this would not have thwarted R from his plans, he could not be so sure of his footing with this new Court and for the time being at least, he would have to comply or face serious consequences.

  Phillip was proven right. Allowing R to supervise me in my home would prove to be a serious mistake. He rightly anticipated that R would mis-report events and that M would be "prepared" for each contact, likely scripted and may not behave towards me in any genuine way for fear of going against his father's wishes when he had to live with him. But it was too late. The Order was made and we were to be stuck with this arrangement until we next went to Court which would not now be until after Christmas.

  Those next few contacts which were each scheduled for two hours after school were some of the worst moments I have had ever shared with M. Philip's prediction was accurate. Whilst M was clearly pleased to see me, he was now being encouraged to call me by my first name, rather than Mummy and R told me that this was his choice. I could not believe it but it hurt, especially as he then told me that M now considered his new wife his mother and wanted to call her Mum. Fortunately M only referred to me in this way on one occasion and only when he was leaving - but it was a knife through my heart and R had left my house giggling.

  We struggled through each of the contacts. I was overjoyed to see him but could never be sure how he would be. He seemed to be playing a part - a role that his father had cast him for. He was sometimes rude to me, which he had never been before and I could see in his eyes that it pained him to do so. He squirmed as he turned down every suggested activity that I came up with. I started trying harder and harder to come up with special activities that he would not be able to resist.

  On Guy Fawkes Night, I produced a Firework Party especially for him and spent all day making a bonfire cake and decorating the house with homemade fireworks and a mobile hanging from the ceiling. I put candles everywhere and arranged for a newly made friend Terry to come and set off the fireworks and Chinese lanterns in the garden.

  I had met Terry at the hearing of another mum who was in the same boat as me. We had both attended Court to offer her support and whilst he was a member of Fathers for Justice, we shared the view that both parents should have contact, unless there were very serious grounds for denying it. Whilst we met in London, I discovered he lived within five miles of me and he and his wife became very close friends. They were dog lovers themselves and looked after Coco on occasions when I had to go to Court.

  Terry arrived at the beginning of contact. R was clearly not happy to see him there. He knew he was a potential witness but the reality was that whilst I was aware that having another person there provided some protection from R's lies, Robert's contact notes had held no sway with the Guardian, so I was unconvinced that anyone associated with me would be listened to.

  I was determined to give M a contact that he would never forget and to R's annoyance, M couldn't resist showing his delight and he forgot to follow his father's instructions and engaged fully with me on this occasion - thanking me profusely for going to all this trouble, enjoying the food, marvelling at the decorations and enjoying the activities I had planned.

  Terr
y and I played a game of indoor cricket with M in the hall-way and whilst we asked his father to join in, he refused, sitting in the corner of my living room looking grim faced with fury and texting endlessly on his phone.

  It was a very happy occasion with lots of laughter. Finally we walked to a grassy area on the estate where I now lived to let off the Chinese lanterns. R immediately grabbed M's hand and marched ahead of us in such a way as to claim ownership and to prevent him from being able to talk to me.

  Terry and I walked behind and he commented on the artificiality of this gesture, especially as M was now 9 years old and children of that age do not normally want to walk hand in hand with their father - especially boys.

  We had some difficulty setting off the lanterns due to it being rather windy. In the end R couldn't resist one-upping Terry who was struggling to get them lit and offered to do it. The moment his back was turned, M ran over to me and threw his arms round my waist hugging me. "I love you Mummy." He whispered before his father turned round again. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Any doubts I might have had about his recent strange behaviour were now confirmed. He had been acting - he still loved me and this was all I needed to hear to keep me strong.

  The next few contacts were less successful. M had clearly been told not to engage with me again and protested to having a headache on arrival at the following contact. He asked to leave early, though I was convinced that this was no more his genuine wish, than the headache. After just half an hour, they left and fairly predictably R began saying that M did not want to come.

  The newly appointed Cafcass officer Giles had been instructed to supervise one contact for the Court. I felt this would be no better a scenario than R himself supervising because he had so firmly nailed his flag to R's mast from the offset.

  I was only told that the contact was proceeding, exactly two hours before they planned to turn up. This was clearly deliberate to give me virtually no time to prepare any activities for M. No consideration was given as to whether or not this was convenient, but I was used to never being considered and naturally M came before anything else in my life. I was just relieved that I had checked my email or I might not have known they were coming at all.

  I hurriedly put together a box of photos so that we could do some scrapbooking which M had enjoyed doing both during the US contacts and back on the Island. We had two scrapbooks we had been working on and I felt he might like to continue with these. I had been commended by the Social Workers in both former countries in coming up with this idea as they had said that it was very important for M to have mementos of his former life and to still feel connected to his past experiences. We had included all sorts of things in our scrapbooks and he had done one for me and I for him. He would put drawings, messages to Mummy and stickers I bought for him into his book and I would write poems and put photos and messages into his.

  Once again M showed momentary reticence on arrival but within literally seconds, he pulled free of his father's grip and whilst the Guardian clearly did not approve of the scrapbook idea - no doubt because he was working towards severing ties with M's past on R's behalf, I quickly came up with the idea of Table Tennis on my dining table and to my relief this met with approval from both the Guardian and M himself.

  I was surprised and angry that Giles did not ask R to at least wait in the car. Surely he had to see M and I alone together without his father's sinister presence to get a true and accurate picture of our relationship. I politely suggested that his father be asked to let us have this time with just Giles supervising. After all, it surely didn't need them both to be there. Giles said his father was to stay and that was the end of it. He knew I couldn't complain and certainly wouldn't have had any dispute in front of M but it seemed grossly unfair and I suspected that there was a reason why he let his father stay that had little to do with M's wishes or well-being. Unfortunately I would be proven right on this later.

  We had had a game of football in the garden and Giles insisted that R be included in every activity, despite the contact session being for him to see my interaction with M.

  M chose to be on my team against his father and Giles but one glance of disapproval from his father and he quickly switched sides. This was the way that the next two hours would pass.

  One thing that happened that I felt clearly demonstrated to Giles that M had no fear of me and was happy and relaxed in my company, was that when the ball went over the fence, M volunteered to come with me to ask the neighbour to throw it back. We left the house and had five precious minutes together, holding hands and chatting happily about the game. Surely now, whatever Giles had been led to believe, he would realise that M felt completely safe with me. I should have realised that under oath, Giles would conveniently not only protest to forget this incident, but even go so far as to deny it had happened.

  The Table Tennis had been a roaring success. We had played "Round the Table" and there had been much laughter - even from Giles himself. He stated on leaving that it had been a very enjoyable and happy contact. I was given a false sense of security at this time and dared to hope that Giles would now moderate his stance. I couldn't have been more wrong.

  When the two hours were over, M hugged me and told me he loved me despite his father's obvious disapproval and I convinced myself that no matter how biased Giles appeared, he must at least report this contact accurately or perjure himself in Court.

  I was thus even more shocked and incredulous to receive an email two days later which advised that on Gile's recommendation there would be no further contact and that M did not want to see me.

  We were approaching Christmas and I had no contact now either by phone or directly. I received one text message from M stating he wanted his presents. I could not even be sure he had sent it. It would have been easy for R, who had access to his phone and email, to totally misrepresent his son. I had no way of knowing what was really coming from M and what was coming from his father, but I knew in my heart that the whispered "I love you" from M on Bonfire night was the truth and I clung to this in hope that come the hearing, it would be enough to carry us through this darkness and into the light.

  Chapter 8

  The Monkeys Are Running The Zoo

  I only saw M once more that year. It was Christmas Eve 2011 and not long before his tenth birthday which fell in the New Year.

  I was cycling home from the supermarket, laden with shopping dangling from my handlebars and in my haversack. As I neared the house, I saw R's big black car parked outside and a little smiling M in the front seat waving madly. They had come to collect his Christmas presents.

  My heart leapt with joy as throwing down the shopping bags, I ran to embrace him as he stepped from the car. We walked hand in hand into the house, closely followed by his father. I had not seen M for well over a month and I was not going to allow his father to spoil this moment. I insisted he wait at the door, after all, it was my home.

  His father stood in the doorway, a looming dark presence as M and I hugged each other tightly. His father's voice urged him to "hurry up" as I quickly gathered his gifts together.

  "I can't stay but I love you Mummy", M's voice said trembling as he clung hard to me.

  "I know Sweetheart. I love you with all my heart. Never forget that." I was close to tears, but dare not let him see the pain that was tearing me in two.

  We had all of five minutes together before his father insisted they leave. M was gone in a moment - a moment I would never forget - for I knew then the greatest agony that any mother can know. The pain when she realises that she may never see her son again.

  We spoke on Christmas Day morning but it was difficult. M was being monitored and was clearly very guarded. I too, knew that one word that R did not like could end the call. We opened our respective gifts together whilst we talked and he marvelled at each one as if it were pure gold. He had always been a child to show enormous appreciation for things and had never been materialistic. I had recently seen a change in him though in this
respect, as in earlier calls he often referred to grand presents and outings his father had provided and was glad that at least with me, he was still the sweet loving boy he had always been - but for how long? There had been the difficult contacts a few months earlier and there was a gaping stretch now before we would be back in Court. During this time, M was clearly being taught to blame Mummy for the proceedings.

  I had never wanted to go into Court. I had not begun the Court process and this was the one and only application I had made and was my only choice at this point. I had no other remedy if I wanted any chance of seeing M in the future - but I knew that was not the way it was being presented to M. His father was clearly laying blame for everything squarely on my shoulders. No child wants to be put through the endless scrutiny that is forced on them when matters go into a Court arena - endless interviews with strangers asking them how they think and feel - often leading them to say things they don't want to say. How long would it be before M, without any other influence in his life, would succumb to the pressure of learning to hate those who loved him most?

  The call came to an end all too soon. We had been on the phone for an hour. He had done all in his power to keep the call going, as had I. Even with so many subjects off-limits and the lack of knowledge we now had of each other's lives, we had still spoken easily to each other. He had kept repeating the words, "what else can I tell you Mummy?" desperately searching for words to keep the connection between us. Neither of us wanted to end the call, but it was terminated by R and I faced the rest of Christmas Day in a dark well of despair so great I thought I might never pull myself out.