Once I got to Andrew and Shaun’s, they tried to think of ways in which they might help. Andrew offered to try and speak to R and to persuade him to drop the charges against me for child abduction and let M come back to me. R, however, now completely in the driving seat, refused point blank.
Shaun suggested I speak to a mutual friend that I hadn't seen for years who had been in an amateur dramatics group with me. He was a criminal lawyer and he kindly agreed to meet with me for coffee so that I could run the case past him. I had come to the end of the road with John, but I needed someone to liaise with the authorities and police on my behalf and he offered to do this.
I found a psychiatrist at last to give me an assessment at the local hospital and I arranged to see him as soon as possible. He wanted a letter of instruction from a lawyer and as I could not formally engage my Drama Group friend because the case was being held in the Island's Courts and he was not licensed to represent me there, he advised I let John do this one last thing for me. John was still on record and I did what was necessary in the way of communicating with him until this one last thing was done.
When I was in America, the press coverage in the tabloids about our case, had resulted in me being in touch with a UK Liberal Democrat MP who was very much in the forefront of taking up causes such as ours relating to injustice and secrecy in the Family Courts. I contacted him and decided to hire a car and drive to see him in Birmingham, which was his constituency. I was determined that no stone should be left unturned in fighting to get M back with me.
The following Saturday I drove from Cambridge to Birmingham and went to see John Hemming at his office. He was an impressive, authoritative figure, a very successful businessman, not a lawyer himself, but with a great deal of knowledge. He advised that I should get rid of my lawyer, self-litigate and stay in the UK as long as possible and wait for the case to come back when M was eventually placed with his father on the Mainland. I was finding it increasingly hard not to go back, but I agreed to try and stick it out a bit longer. If they were going to follow the Care Plan that had been drawn up for M, then this should happen fairly soon. However, M was still refusing to see his father and he remained adamant and unmovable about that, so the weeks dragged on and I could see that nothing was likely to change in a hurry. M was also getting increasingly distressed that I had not come back and I felt that once I had the necessary reports done, I must go. I couldn't risk him thinking that I had abandoned him, which he was likely being told already.
I saw the psychiatrist the following week and was put through a rigorous psychiatric evaluation. Whilst it was a gruelling experience, I ended up with a very positive report that found no trace of mental illness. I also saw a psychologist and gained the same result. I instructed John to file these two reports with the Court during the next hearing which was set for the beginning of the following week. He refused to do so. The morning of the Court I emailed John Hemming whose advice was to fire him for refusing to take my instructions and so I released him asking him to go into Court and take himself off record and then send me an account of what happened. I then wrote direct to the Court clerk and advised the Court that I was releasing him and filed the report with them myself by email.
It was a liberating feeling getting rid of John as I could not stand him and felt he had done nothing to help us whatsoever. However, it meant I now had the problem of being a litigant in person for the very first time and whilst I had a Masters in English and could write a coherent letter, I was far from a lawyer and knew little of the legal complexities.
My Drama Group friend began to liaise with the police on my behalf who gave assurances to us that if I came voluntarily and made a statement, I would likely be bailed and be able to see M. Offers to make the statement in the UK at a local police station were turned down.
Meanwhile, I decided it was time to leave the safety of Andrew and Shaun’s. Despite our very close friendship, I could see that my being there was starting to create tension. They both worked from home and I was in a very emotional state and did not want to encroach any longer. I would stay close enough to see them, but even the best of friendships can only withstand so much and Andrew had no children of his own and possibly found it harder than Shaun, who had children, to relate to my suffering. I cannot stress enough though how kind they both were to me and how tolerant and patient they had been, but it was time to move on and to find a place of my own and I found an apartment not too far away and moved in.
I was encouraged by old friends and new that I had made since my return, to stay put in the UK and fly back and forth to the Island for contact, rather than return immediately. I had also consulted with a lawyer friend of John Hemming's and his advice was that I could not, he thought be extradited. The Department were still refusing to grant me any contact and I was stuck in a deadlock situation with them. They said if I came back we could discuss my seeing M, but would not assure me that I would not be arrested on return, so had I gone back without the assurance of a firm contact day, I would likely have gone straight into custody without seeing my son.
The situation was agony and M’s distress at each phone call was a tug at my heart. The only good thing about having my own place, was that I could vent my tears, anger and frustration without disturbing anyone. I spent so much of my time just breaking my heart, but I knew I had to keep going for M’s sake and for now it seemed sensible to stay, whilst I continued to try to strike some kind of deal with the Department and the Police.
I was lonely, but mainly I was grieving for M and no amount of company could have made up for that. There was nothing that would fill the void left by my son – I had had the most important part of me amputated and no artificial limb would help me stand.
I reached out for comfort wherever I could find it and had reconnected with an old boyfriend quite by chance. One evening when Shaun and Andrew had gone out to rehearse for a play they were both involved in, I had rung his number as he lived in the same village. I needed some company and I didn't know anyone else. I was not looking for a romantic relationship, but I needed a friend and much to my amazement he answered the phone. I had heard he was spending most of the year in Florida, so I was surprised. We met for a drink and caught up. He had been the longest relationship I had had with a man and we had lived together for about eight years and nearly married. However, it had not worked out then for lots of reasons, but that story is not important now and I only mention this because he was someone who helped and listened through my anguish. I think he felt it could be more and I guess I tried to think it could be too, but he was right when he voiced the fact that there was no room in my life for a relationship and no room in my heart which was filled with my love for M and my loss.
Whilst I had grieved for others in my life. My beloved middle sister and my mother and whilst both of these had devastated me, I had held my grief deep inside then, the former because I could not face losing someone so vital and young and in my mother's case, her stroke had come when I was so close to losing M, that I simply had no time to grieve. However, in time with death, one learns to accept and move on; whilst a part of your life is gone forever, you have no choice.
With my mother’s death, was very sudden and unexpected, it was the lack of talking to her that hit me most. We had always been close and we had no secrets. Nothing could have prepared me for how much I would miss our daily chats by phone or her words of maternal comfort, especially now when the loss of M was all-consuming.
This was another aspect of what we were going through - the lack of space for anything else at all – no room for a relationship, little room for friends and no room for any other grief than the loss of my child. The situation was overwhelming in its iniquitous devastation and the ripples spread far and wide. How I longed to hear my mother's voice say “everything will be okay” with her usual, sometimes annoying, optimism in the face of adversity. This grief contained no closure, it was living grief, daily grinding and more powerful than any other feeling; The need
to do something, the feeling that there must be something you could do – someone who held the key to all this? Someone who knew the answer as to why this had happened to us – a good, decent family – a mother who was devoted to her child and cared for his every need – why us? I couldn’t fathom it and remained in a state of disbelief, despair and driven by a need to find the answer.
Days of sobbing for M, were replaced with frantic activity – emails written endlessly to the police, Social Worker and the Department’s hierarchy – mostly ignored – frantically going through court papers - talking endlessly to friends on the phone who may know something of M’s whereabouts. I knew the day was fast approaching where I must go back. The day had long since passed where I could tolerate another minute of this cruel separation, at least in America I had had contact - those few precious hours were gold to me now.
Now, I had my reports and the police were beginning to put the pressure on, threatening to come and get me and bring me back – so whether Mike, the lawyer's view was right or not, in regards to extradition, I felt they would ensure I was brought back one way or another and I was in so much pain at being apart from M, that even the prospect of jail seemed a worthwhile risk. In fact, fear of jail was never an issue, it was only my fear of how my being in jail would affect M and also the fact that I didn't know if my losing liberty would mean I would see him.
I had taken the apartment on a monthly basis. As things turned out, it would have been cheaper to have gone back into a hotel as I was only in it for ten days. The Detective Inspector was now seriously putting the pressure on and I knew it was only a matter of time before there was yet another knock on the door by police. I decided I must go back and face the music. I needed to see M as soon as possible, even with no guarantee of contact with my son. I knew the day to return, had come.
Social Services agreed that if I returned I could see M, but they would not fix a date or time. I thought I'd pinned them down eventually and the police had also agreed that they wouldn't arrest me if I came to the station voluntarily and gave a statement.
I called a taxi to take me to the airport. I'd returned the hire car I had been using and spent the fifty mile journey in a high state of anxiety. In the meantime my Drama Club friend had drafted a statement for me to take with me and I was armed with this. However, once I'd checked in, he called me on my mobile to say that the Department had reneged on their agreement and his advice was to stay put until we had a definite arrangement. I was devastated but have to admit a little relieved, as I didn't trust them and this latest turn of events, confirmed my fears.
I headed back to my flat feeling dismal and having wasted a great deal of money on taxis and plane fares. I waited again to hear from the authorities and at last a week later they agreed to a time for contact with M. This time they confirmed in writing and the D.I. warned me that if I didn’t come back on that date I would be picked up in the UK and brought back. I agreed to their conditions and this time Andrew drove me to the airport for moral support. I was very fortunate in my friendship with these two wonderful men who had become almost family to me.
I spent an anxious time in the Departure lounge when Andrew and I eventually said our goodbyes. I had the pre-written statement in my hand luggage, prepared by my lawyer friend but was not entirely comfortable with its content. It had been drafted it in such a way as to suggest I had run as a knee- jerk reaction and taken M for a holiday and to have some time with him before he was taken, that I had intended to come back to the Island before long and had been making preparations to do so when he was taken. He hoped, in this way they would be lenient with me, but my gut feeling was that it would have been better to come clean and say I had run, after all, I had cause to do so.
It was not the first time that I had taken advice with which I was not comfortable and went against my nature to always be entirely honest and straight. It was another hard lesson I was about to learn that trusting your gut feeling and your intuition is always the best thing to do. Even if others are well-intentioned, it is your inner voice and conscience that steer you along the right path or at least the one you can live with and I wished at that moment I had listened to mine. It was too late to do anything about it now and he persuaded me this was my best hope. I was to pay heavily for this mistake later on.
I still hoped to come back to the UK after I had seen M and given my statement and so I had left most of my possessions in the apartment. It was to be a pivotal date and one that will stay with me forever. On the 29th October 2009, I flew back to the Island that had destroyed me and my son, my heart in my mouth, unsure what lay ahead.
Chapter 8
At the point of landing, my heart was pounding so loudly, I wondered if those around me could hear it. I had dressed smartly in a suit as I wanted the police to see that I was a sensible, respectable person and hoped that that would create the right impression. I also knew would feel more confident if I presented myself well.
I had arranged for my friend Jan to meet me at the airport and had been keeping in close contact with her via mobile and email. She had agreed to come with me to do the police interview and for the second time I breathed a sigh of relief to see a friend rather than police officer on arrival.
Jan and I drove to a pub in the south of the Island to meet with my father and have lunch. My appointment at the main HQ was not scheduled to take place until 3pm so we tried to have a relaxed lunch, which of course was an impossibility. I could barely eat one mouthful and the Island already felt oppressive and terrifying. I downed stiff drink to calm my nerves, but I was so frightened, nothing could have taken the edge off.
At just after 2pm, we left the pub and I hugged my father who still believed that I would be released later that afternoon and had made a cottage pie for supper. From his position of total integrity, honesty and unwavering belief that justice would prevail , he could not perceive the danger that lay ahead and was still confident that the nightmare would eventually end. I did not share his optimism and fully expected the police to go back on their word. History told me that none of the authorities were to be trusted and were a law unto themselves. I could not have envisaged what lay ahead though even in my wildest dreams.
When we got to the station, I checked in at reception and told them who I was. I was told I was late and had been due at 1pm. This was the first sign that things were not going to go smoothly. I told them that I had had an email from the D.I. which clearly stated that I should arrive at 3pm. The woman behind the desk didn't believe me and I didn't have it with me, but she told us to wait in reception whilst she contacted him.
It seemed like hours until he and another female officer arrived. In reality it was probably no more than twenty minutes. The female officer was already familiar to me as she had taken a statement from me in regards to the initial allegations of abuse. I had not felt she was sympathetic then. She was heavily made up, young, sporting a sun-bed tan with sunglasses perched on top of her head, despite it being Autumn. She was not someone who gave you confidence in taking matters such as these seriously, but like many young officers who climb the ladder quickly, she had an air of great self-importance and seemed to be enjoying my clear discomfort. She was patronising towards me and called me by my first name in very much the same tone as a school teacher might speak to a wayward pupil, it made my blood boil. I must have had at least fifteen years on her. I tried not to look at her and inwardly prayed that the interview would be over quickly.
I had been advised by my Drama Club friend to stick to the statement and not elaborate. I read it through whilst I was waiting, still uneasy at the suggestion we had gone on holiday, but it was all I had to rely on now and I knew I would just have to proceed with it as it stood and hope for the best.
Jan asked if she could accompany me to the interview room, but this was refused. I began to feel panic rising, as they closed the door behind her and took me through to the custody suite. I had no idea what to expect. I had never been in trouble with the police in m
y life and was completely daunted by what ahead.
The D.I. was tall, solidly built, bald and resembled Grant Mitchell from the soap, Eastenders. He would not have looked out of place as a bouncer outside a London Club. His face registered no emotion and he had an air of boredom and grim-faced determination. I knew the police were unlikely to go easy on me, especially as they had looked extremely incompetent for letting me get away in front of them. They now had an axe to grind and they were going to grind it hard.
I was first taken into the reception area of the custody suite whilst I had all of my belongings taken from me. I was asked to remove all jewellery, even a chain that held the locket with a picture of M and I in that I had not removed since I had bought it in America. On the same chain I wore a sapphire pendant that M had bought for me on our last holiday together in Mexico and I begged to be allowed to keep them, but was told I couldn't.
I knew it was important to be cooperative and I told myself that this would soon be over. I would give my statement and be at my Dad’s within a couple of hours and able to relax and enjoy a home-cooked meal and look forward to seeing M first thing in the morning which was scheduled for ten a.m. at a contact centre. I held onto this thought hard as I handed over my chain, my earrings, my watch and finally my shoes. My details were then read out to me and the contents of my handbag, including my asthma inhalers, money, passport, cheque book and mobile phone were put into small plastic bags. I then signed a piece of paper to say that the contents had been recorded correctly.
Mummy Where Are You? (Revised Edition, new) Page 10