I Miss Mummy

by Cathy Glass

  Alice knew the centre from having seen her father and Sharon there a few times while she’d been staying with her grandparents. I parked in the small car park at the side of the building and then got out and opened Alice’s car door which, as always, was child locked. Alice slipped her hand into mine and we went up the short path to the front door, where I pressed the security buzzer. The CCTV camera overhead allowed the office staff to see who was at the door and a moment later the lock released and we went into reception.

  Before I had a chance to sign in the visitors’ register or say hello to the office staff, a very fashionably dressed woman in her late twenties, with jeans tucked into red knee-length boots and long flowing hair, appeared from the waiting area.

  ‘Hi, precious!’ she cried at the top of her voice to Alice and, rushing over, scooped Alice into her arms. ‘I’ve missed you so much! How are you, my precious?’ In a flurry of hair and perfume she began planting kisses all over Alice’s head, face and neck while Alice just lay in her arms, expressionless. Then as quickly as she’d picked up Alice she set her down again. Alice staggered for a second before she got her balance. Turning to me, the woman smiled and offered her hand.

  ‘I’m Sharon, Chris’s wife and Alice’s new mother.’

  I glanced at Alice and her look said it all: this woman isn’t my mother and won’t ever be.

  Chapter Twelve

  A New Mummy

  Embarrassment, confusion and something close to resentment flickered across little Alice’s face. Then she looked past Sharon to a man who was coming into reception from the direction of the waiting room. Alice didn’t run to him but remained where she was, beside me.

  He came up to her and, without any display of emotion, said, ‘Alice. How are you?’

  ‘This is my husband, Chris,’ Sharon said. ‘Alice’s daddy.’

  I smiled and shook his hand. Alice hadn’t said anything but remained by my side, silently watching her father and Sharon.

  ‘We really wanted Alice to come straight to us,’ Sharon said in a rush. ‘But the social services said she had to go into care first while our assessment was being completed.’

  ‘That’s usual,’ I confirmed.

  ‘Seems a waste of time to me,’ Sharon continued. ‘I mean we’re in our house now. Before, when we just had one bedroom, I could understand it. But Alice has got her own room. It’s all ready for her. So how’s she been since she came to you?’

  It’s usual to give parents or relatives a brief update before or after contact, to reassure them the child is well and happy, but I didn’t want to do so in the main reception area where other parents could pass and overhear, and neither did I want to talk about Alice in front of her if it could be avoided.

  ‘Just a minute,’ I said to Sharon. ‘I’ll see if the contact supervisor is free to look after Alice for a moment.’

  I put my head round the office door and, having exchanged hellos with the two staff who were in there, I asked who the contact supervisor would be for Alice.

  ‘Lyn,’ the receptionist-cum-secretary said. ‘She’ll be here soon. Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes. I just need someone to look after Alice for a few minutes while I update her dad and Sharon.’

  ‘Bring her in here. I’ll look after her and keep her amused.’

  ‘Thanks. You’re a gem.’

  I showed Alice into the office and said we wouldn’t be long. Then I went with Sharon and Chris to the waiting room, which was empty.

  ‘We were so worried,’ Sharon said as soon as we sat down. ‘We weren’t told a thing. All that time Alice was missing we didn’t know what was happening. She could have been dead for all we knew. No one kept us informed. I kept phoning the police and the duty social worker, but they said they didn’t know anything. It was only when I phoned the social services on Monday morning that I was told she’d been found on Sunday! I’ve told Chris we should put in a complaint.’

  I glanced at Chris, who nodded but didn’t say anything. ‘I wasn’t kept informed either,’ I said. ‘So I can understand how worried you must have been.’

  ‘I didn’t sleep all weekend. It was awful,’ Sharon continued. ‘I’m so angry, I’m going to speak to my solicitor about suing them. We should have been told; we had a right to know.’ I noticed Sharon did all the talking while Alice’s father sat beside her, occasionally nodding in agreement but not adding anything. They were both the same height, about 5 feet 8 inches and fashionably dressed – Chris in designer sportswear. His spiky haircut was gelled in place, and I knew from the referral that he was twenty-five and Sharon was a few years older. Clearly Sharon was the more assertive of the two, and from what she was saying she appeared to have shouldered most of the responsibility (and possibly worry) during the time Alice had been missing.

  ‘That woman’s got a lot to answer for,’ Sharon said, referring to Alice’s mother. ‘She was always a bit odd but now she’s off her trolley.’

  ‘You know Leah?’ I asked, surprised.

  ‘Sort of. She used to live in the same road. The social worker, Martha, said when they find Leah she’ll be prosecuted and put inside. Do you know if she’s been caught yet? I hope she has for what she did to Alice.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. I wasn’t going to be drawn into discussing or condemning Leah. While snatching Alice had been completely unacceptable and had caused everyone, including Alice, untold anxiety, part of me felt sorry for Leah. From what I had seen so far of Alice, Leah – with the support of her parents – had done a good job of parenting Alice, and I couldn’t help but view her act of snatching her daughter as that of a mother desperate to keep her child.

  ‘Now, I expect you will want to spend your time with Alice,’ I said. ‘So let me quickly tell you how she’s been. Alice came to me late on Sunday and although she was overwhelmed by everything that had happened, she settled remarkably well.’ They both nodded. I continued to tell them that Alice had been eating and sleeping well, that she had been to nursery, and that there would be a placement meeting before the end of the week when the social worker would be present to answer any queries they might have.

  ‘She’s not fit to be a mother,’ Sharon said as soon as I finished. ‘And those grandparents are no better. They’ve poisoned Alice against me and Chris. Alice hardly knows her father.’

  I’d noticed in reception there was a coolness between Alice and her father, but whether this was a result of Alice being ‘poisoned’ against her father or whether it was simply distance – from him not being involved in Alice’s life – I’d no idea.

  ‘Thankfully, Alice is safe now,’ I smiled, ‘and I understand she will be seeing quite a lot of you both. Have you any questions about her care? Or is there anything you can tell me that will help me to look after Alice – for example, her likes and dislikes?’

  They both thought for a moment; then Chris shook his head, and Sharon said: ‘Alice calls me Mummy now. I told her to. I can’t have children, so Alice can be my daughter, which is nearly as good.’

  I looked at Sharon. Apart from ‘nearly as good’ settling uncomfortably with me, I thought how confusing it must be for Alice to be calling Sharon Mummy when she had a strong bond with her own mother. One of the reasons foster carers don’t encourage foster children to call them Mummy or Mum is to avoid such confusion, and divided loyalties. If the child is with the carer permanently and has little or no attachment to his or her own mother, then over a period of time the child might naturally start referring to the carer as Mum, which is very different from being told to do so.

  ‘How long have you known Alice?’ I asked Sharon.

  ‘Nearly five weeks,’ she said. ‘But I knew Chris had a child right from the beginning. He told me straightaway. We don’t have any secrets. It’s all happened so quickly. We met six months ago, got married three months ago, and now I’m in a new house and will soon have a daughter of my own! I think the reason Alice has loved me so quickly is because her own mother is crap
. Ooops, sorry.’ She turned to Chris and grinned girlishly. ‘I shouldn’t swear now I’m a mother.’

  I looked at Chris, who smiled indulgently, while I kept my own thoughts to myself. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else,’ I said, ‘I’ll just say goodbye to Alice and leave you to enjoy your time together.’ I turned and led the way from the waiting room and into reception, where Alice and Lyn, the contact supervisor, were just coming out of the office. I said goodbye to Alice and told her I would come back in two hours to collect her. She pursed her lips, wanting to kiss me goodbye as she had done at nursery that morning. I bent down so she could reach my cheek, but before Alice had the chance to kiss me Sharon intercepted.

  ‘Come and give your mummy a kiss instead,’ she said. Kneeling down, she turned Alice towards her.

  I straightened as Alice reluctantly kissed her cheek. ‘Goodbye, love,’ I said, and came away.

  In the car I sat for a moment staring through the windscreen, deep in thought. Dear Alice: she seemed so vulnerable and in need of protection that I could see why Sharon was all over her. Yet Sharon came across as dominating, a force to be reckoned with, and if I had felt overwhelmed by her, goodness knew what little Alice felt. I was sure Sharon had the best intentions, but from what I’d seen she was going about becoming Alice’s stepmother the wrong way. She needed to stand back and let Alice take the initiative on how fast she wanted their relationship to build. Sharon was trying too hard – being the classic over-zealous step-parent – and I knew Alice was resenting it.

  The same certainly couldn’t be said of Alice’s father, Chris, who had hardly said a word to her. When a child comes into care and can’t be returned home, as in Alice’s case, another suitable relative willing to parent the child is usually considered the next best option. But from what I’d just seen, Alice’s father had no relationship with Alice, and didn’t seem to know how to make one, while Sharon, who had only known Alice five weeks, was the other extreme – obsessed with making Alice her daughter. And what no one seemed to be taking into account were Alice’s feelings and wishes. She loved her mother and grandparents, and if she wasn’t going to be able to live with them again, as Martha has said, then someone needed to explain exactly why to Alice; I didn’t know enough to do this. As soon as the new social worker took over I would ask him or her to clearly explain to Alice the reasons for their decision. Alice was old enough to understand and had a right to know.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Placement Meeting

  ‘There is no way Alice can see her mother at present,’ Martha said with a sigh. ‘When I phone Leah she screams at me down the phone – the whole office can hear. If she can’t talk sensibly I can’t help her, which means Alice doesn’t get to see her mother.’

  It was Friday morning and, having taken Alice to nursery, I was in the placement meeting at the social services’ offices. Although Martha had officially left the case, as the new social worker wasn’t in place yet she had stepped in just for this meeting. A placement meeting – the meeting that has to be held within five days of a child being placed with a foster carer – is usually informal, without a chairperson. It allows those connected with the child to meet and share information so that everything that can be done is done to help the child settle. Apart from Jill, me and Martha, the only other people present were Sharon and Chris. Alice’s mother and grandparents had been invited but had sent their apologies, saying they didn’t feel able to attend if Chris and Sharon were present – such was their mutual animosity. The health visitor and Guardian ad Litem had also been invited, but because of the short notice – Martha had phoned us at four o’clock the previous afternoon – they hadn’t been able to attend and sent their apologies. This was reasonable and their attendance at the placement meeting wasn’t as essential as it would be at some of the meetings to be held in the future – Alice’s review, for example.

  Given that I had already met Sharon and Chris twice – at contact on Tuesday and Thursday, when I had updated them – and with them knowing so little about Alice we didn’t really have much information to share. If Alice’s mother and grandparents had been present, the meeting would have been far more productive and worthwhile. They could have told me of Alice’s routine, her likes and dislikes, and anything I could do to help Alice settle; in turn I could have reassured them. As it was, the meeting quickly became a platform for Sharon to criticize Leah and extol her own virtues as a mother, which of course had yet to be proved. ‘Did you know she…!’ prefaced many of Sharon’s derogatory comments about Leah. Or ‘How could she! I don’t believe it!’

  ‘The sooner Alice is with me,’ Sharon concluded, ‘the sooner she can forget Leah and we can all get on with our lives.’

  I saw Jill flinch at this last comment and I knew she couldn’t let it pass without saying something. ‘Children of Alice’s age don’t forget a parent they’ve had a close relationship with,’ Jill said gently but firmly. ‘Indeed it is important, for Alice’s sake, that she doesn’t forget her mother. Her mother’s memory needs to be kept alive, and in a positive way, especially if she isn’t seeing her.’

  ‘But I’ll be her mother soon,’ Sharon put in quickly.

  ‘You will be her stepmother,’ Jill corrected, ‘which is a very important role, and one that will complement the role of Alice’s natural mother.’ Jill had a very diplomatic way of phrasing things that diffused a situation when feelings were running high.

  ‘But I understand what Sharon is saying,’ Martha said, leaping to her defence (not for the first time). ‘Alice desperately needs the security Chris and Sharon can offer so she can move on with her life. The department is very grateful that Chris and Sharon are prepared to give Alice a home; she is a very lucky little girl.’ Martha and Sharon smiled at each other. ‘Alice has had so much upset in her short life,’ Martha added.

  ‘But has she?’ I asked, finally voicing my concerns. ‘I appreciate being snatched by her mother was shocking and should never have happened, but apart from that Alice seems to have been very happy living with her mother when she was well, and then her grandparents. It’s a long time since I’ve looked after a child who appears to have come from such a loving and, for want of a better word, normal home. She’s showing no signs of the disturbed behaviour you’d expect from the type of childhood that has been described here.’

  Between Martha and Sharon I’d heard that Leah had been a drug addict since the age of sixteen, had supplemented her benefit money with earnings from prostitution, had neglected Alice and was often incoherent and irrational; and that the screaming and crying coming from Leah’s house when Alice had been living there were so dreadful that the neighbours had called the police. Where all this information had come from wasn’t clear. Martha had been on the case for only two weeks prior to Alice coming into care, and admitted she hadn’t familiarized herself with ‘the file’ and that it wasn’t worth her doing so now because she was ‘off the case’. Sharon’s information seemed to be titbits of gossip she’d picked up from the estate where, prior to being re-housed, she had lived in the same road as Leah. I thought there was a grave danger of fact and hearsay becoming confused.

  ‘Alice’s disturbed behaviour may come out later,’ Martha said. ‘She’s probably internalizing her pain or maybe she’s in a state of shock,’ which I couldn’t disagree with.

  ‘I appreciate that,’ I said. ‘I’ve looked after children in the past who kept their emotions under wraps and then suddenly exploded into anger or depression. But usually there is some indication in the child of the trauma they’ve suffered, even if it’s utter silence. Alice speaks freely of her mother and grandparents. She has happy memories of their time together, as you would expect from a normal loving family, not an abusing one.’

  ‘Alice has been brainwashed,’ Sharon said, ‘by Leah and those grandparents. They hate us.’

  ‘Why do you think they hate you?’ Jill asked.

  ‘No idea,’ Sharon said. Chris shrugged.

  ‘A
lice has probably made up these “happy” memories,’ Martha said. ‘She won’t be the first child to fantasize about the idyllic childhood she has been denied.’ Which again was certainly possible.

  Changing the subject, Jill asked Sharon and Chris if there was anything they could tell me about Alice that could help me care for her, but there wasn’t, simply because they didn’t know Alice. Sharon took the opportunity to say that the reason Chris didn’t know anything about Alice’s routine or her likes and dislikes was that Leah had stopped him from seeing Alice and from being a father to her. Martha didn’t confirm or deny this – she probably didn’t know. Then Sharon continued with her diatribe against Leah, who, according to Sharon, had wanted nothing to do with Chris once Alice had been born, and had turned violent to Chris when he’d asked to see Alice. Chris nodded in agreement. What I wanted to ask, but couldn’t, because it was none of my business, was why it had taken Chris four years to do anything about trying to see his daughter. Why hadn’t he applied for contact? I half suspected the answer: that he hadn’t really been bothered about seeing Alice until Sharon, desperate to have a child, had arrived on the scene and taken the initiative. It had been their ‘luck’ that at the same time as Sharon had come into Chris’s life Leah’s life had fallen apart to the point where she could no longer parent Alice.

  Martha asked Sharon and Chris if they had any questions. Sharon wanted to know when Alice could start staying with them at weekends with a view to moving in within the month. Martha said that as soon as the new social worker was in place a timetable for the move would be drawn up. Sharon then said that she’d heard Leah was back on the drugs and also on the game to fund it, which added nothing to the meeting and was clearly designed to further smear Leah’s character.