by Angela Hart
‘Or maybe she just resents us,’ I suggested, ‘because Christine sees us as part of the establishment, lumped together with the social workers?’
Jonathan nodded sagely. ‘Or it could just be that Christine wants Maria back so that she’ll get the money that was cut from her family allowance when she was taken into care.’
Jonathan pulled a rueful face and added, ‘I know that sounds like a harsh thing to say, but from what we heard about why she wanted Colin back, for his keep, it’s not beyond the realms of possibility, is it?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Sadly, I’ve learned that when it comes to fostering, nothing is beyond the realms of possibility.’
11
‘It’s unusual for a girl so young . . .’
One day, when Maria and the boys were at school and we were in the flower shop, Jonathan laid an armful of dahlias on the counter and said, ‘We can’t take her with us, can we?’
I had been filling the tall, conical vases that ran the length of one wall of the shop with the flowers Jonathan was bringing in from the van, after a trip to one of our suppliers. I sighed and wiped the back of my hand across my forehead as I said, ‘I’ve been thinking the same thing. It breaks my heart to have to admit it, but we just can’t take the risk. I’m afraid of losing her every time we go out here. But what if it happened in another country?’
Maria’s stay had extended into its second month and the holiday we had planned with the boys, to Portugal, was imminent. Unfortunately, Maria had continued to dart off from us, seemingly at any opportunity. Often it happened when we said no to a demand for Coke, crisps, sweets or whatever it was she’d decided she couldn’t live without at that particular moment. We could be anywhere – out shopping, walking to town or just relaxing in the house – when Maria would suddenly turn on her heel and run off. I was constantly on my guard and, if I read the signs correctly, I’d grab hold of the back of her T-shirt just as she was about to bolt. I think some of my neighbours and customers must have wondered what on earth was going on, because whenever Maria was with me I was on high alert, only half listening to what other people were saying. Most of my attention was on Maria and what she might be planning, because the consequences of her running away and getting lost or injured didn’t bear thinking about.
‘Having Maria run away in Portugal is simply not a risk we can take, Angela,’ Jonathan said regretfully. ‘I didn’t want to say anything to you until I’d examined the possibilities from every angle, to see if there was some way round it. But I haven’t come up with anything yet. Will you speak to Claire and try to work something out?’
‘I’ll call her later,’ I told him. ‘Let’s hope she can find somewhere for Maria to stay while we’re away.’
This was an awful dilemma. We could not let the boys down and cancel the holiday, but we desperately didn’t want to upset Maria either. I found myself wondering if there was any way Babs could have her granddaughter for the fortnight, but then again she had told me time and time again that she already had enough to cope with as Stanley needed so much care.
Claire was very understanding when I explained the situation to her on the phone later that morning. ‘Don’t worry, Angela,’ she told me. ‘I’m sure I can find somewhere for Maria to stay while you’re away. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.’
‘Thanks. Will the promise Social Services made to pay for a holiday for her still stand if she does end up staying with us, so we can arrange to take her somewhere else in the future?’ I asked. ‘Only I’d really like to be able to explain this to Maria, to soften the blow.’
‘It sounds like a reasonable request,’ Claire replied. ‘I’ll check and let you know about that too.’
‘OK. Just one more thing. I don’t want to interfere, but have you ever considered asking Maria’s grandmother to provide respite care? I think that could be less disruptive for her, and of course we know it is definitely only for the fortnight we’re away, so Babs would not have to worry about it being extended.’
There was a sharp intake of breath.
‘No,’ Claire said. ‘There is a good reason for this, Angela, but it is not possible for Maria to live at her grandmother’s house. We have looked into it and, well, the requirements aren’t there, shall we say.’
My heart sank. What other secrets did Maria’s family hold? And did this have something to do with Maria’s puzzling refusal to speak to her nanny? I didn’t quiz Claire as there was no point and it was not my place, and besides I had already mentioned to my social worker that Maria was refusing to speak to Babs. However, I found it infuriating not to be given more information, particularly as Maria was freely allowed to visit Babs, Stanley and her brother Colin, if she wanted to. Surely if there was an ‘issue’ with any member of the family, Maria should not be allowed to visit at all? I also thought about Babs’s explanation about why she could not look after Maria, and I inevitably questioned her honesty. If she had not been entirely truthful with me about this, what else had she lied about? It seemed that Babs and Christine thought little of telling untruths and keeping secrets, and I thought it was no wonder Maria had the behaviour problems she did. In order to thrive, children need to be brought up with a strong moral code; they need to be taught the difference between right and wrong and they need to know the importance of behaving with honesty and integrity. Maria’s family didn’t seem to provide any of those things, which was such a pity, and so very difficult to put right.
As it turned out, Maria’s previous foster carers agreed to have her while we were away. I was relieved that at least she wouldn’t be going somewhere completely new, with people she didn’t know at all. And once that had been agreed, it was just a case of telling Maria herself, which I did one evening just before we ate our meal.
I was not looking forward to this. I didn’t want to disappoint Maria, but nor did I want to take any risks with her safety. Similarly, I didn’t want to compromise the enjoyment of the holiday for the boys, and so I took the bull by the horns and told myself it was for the best, and I really did not have a choice.
Maria listened quietly. The words stuck in my throat, if I’m honest. Maria had never been on a holiday or seen the sea or a beach. In fact, before the family moved out of the area, she had never travelled more than a few miles from the town we lived in, which is where she was born. As I was explaining the situation I wanted to pull the words back into my mouth. I wished I could stay with her and Jonathan could take the boys to Portugal, but that wasn’t the solution we wanted. It wouldn’t be the same. Jonathan and I always worked in partnership and we didn’t want to change that.
‘It’s OK, I didn’t think it would happen anyhow,’ Maria said with a shrug. ‘I’m not bothered. If I stay with you longer, can I go on another holiday one day?’
Maria knew that Social Services had offered to pay for her trip because Christine had been cock-a-hoop about this, and so it was a reasonable question.
‘Yes, of course you can,’ I replied. ‘As long as Jonathan and I are happy that you’re going to be safe.’
‘Do you promise?’ she asked, looking at me intently, with her head on one side.
‘Yes, I promise,’ I said.
A couple of days later, Claire phoned to tell me that Social Services would keep their promise too, and that they would pay for Maria to go on holiday with us if the opportunity arose again, and of course if Maria’s habit of running off had stopped.
We enjoyed a good holiday with the boys and Maria went off to the other foster carer’s without a hitch. During this period, however, Maria’s mother had been busy making complaints about us to Social Services over all sorts of things. She went mad about us not taking Maria on holiday, accusing us of being selfish and uncaring and making Maria feel unwanted, which was very unkind and hurtful. It seemed that Christine was not consulted about Maria going into respite care while we were away, but unfortunately it was not down to Jonathan and me to consult her. This was the job of Social Services, and we had no inf
luence over how they chose to operate, but that didn’t stop Christine blaming us for the situation. She didn’t seem to care how she hurt us or made us feel, because she would openly criticise us when she was on the phone to Maria and knew we had it on loudspeaker and could hear every word.
Christine also complained about us dropping Maria at church and not staying for the service, despite the fact it had been agreed that we would take her to the door, make sure she was handed over to a vetted church official and collect her each time. Christine had accepted this in the beginning, but again this didn’t stop her criticising us and trying to undermine us. When these complaints didn’t make Social Services dance to Christine’s tune, she fished around for anything she could find and she variously accused us of not giving Maria drinks when she asked (this meant we didn’t give her the Coke and other fizzy drinks she wanted), not getting her to school on time (her taxi was occasionally late or held up in traffic), not taking care of her hair properly (even though Christine refused to let Maria have it cut shorter as she wished and had requested) and – incredibly – ‘not allowing her to watch TV like the others’. When I questioned this last complaint, it emerged that Maria had mentioned to her grandmother the fact she was not allowed to watch the fifteen certificate film the boys had watched.
Not long after the holiday we had a placement meeting with Maria’s social worker, plus Christine, Gerry, our support social worker and the head teacher from Maria’s school, Mr Benson. Normally, that sort of meeting would have been held at the Social Services’ office – the previous one had taken place there, minus Gerry – but for some reason this one took place at Maria’s house. Jonathan and I had to travel there while Maria was at school. We weren’t looking forward to it and I had no desire to meet Gerry properly in person, but of course we agreed to do as we were asked.
When I mentioned the meeting to Maria she gave me a wide grin, but I can’t say her face lit up.
‘That’s good!’ she said, somewhat unconvincingly, holding her fixed smile. ‘It’s good that you are seeing Mummy and Gerry!’
I felt a pang of pain when I saw Maria go through what appeared to be an act. What exactly had happened to her at home, and why did she feel the need to pretend everything was fine when she really didn’t need to in front of me?
‘It’s unusual for a girl so young to behave like Maria,’ I commented to Jonathan.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, children of her age are normally easier to read. Remember little Kim? She hated her stepdad with a passion and, because she was only eight years old, her feelings were very obvious.’
‘Yes, I see what you mean. Maria’s not such an open book, is she? It’s hard to tell what she really thinks and feels. That’s a bit of a worry, isn’t it?’
Maria maintained her apparently happy act when she got ready for school the next day.
‘It’ll be great for you to see Mummy,’ she repeated, ‘and Gerry! I wonder if Frank and Casey will be in. I hope so!’
Her supposed enthusiasm just didn’t seem to ring true, and I must admit I was becoming increasingly nervous about how this meeting would go. Clearly, with an investigation taking place, her whole family could very well be on the defensive, and we already knew how Christine felt about Social Services and the ‘lies’ they supposedly told.
Unfortunately, when Social Services have intervened and removed a child from their parents, foster carers like us are often viewed as the ‘enemy’, colluding with the authorities. Of course, we have nothing to do with the decision to put a child in care, and we are only here to provide the care a child needs, but many parents can’t or won’t view it that way and, as I’d already started to work out, it seemed that Christine viewed Jonathan and I as part of the ‘establishment’ she despised.
12
‘He made my skin crawl’
When we pulled up at Christine and Gerry’s house I was pleased to see it was in a smart part of town and looked fairly well kept. It was a hot day, and the small front lawn was neatly cut and pansies and marigolds were blooming in hanging baskets either side of the front door.
Christine appeared, wearing a short sundress and large mirrored sunglasses so you couldn’t see her eyes at all. She seemed friendly enough at first though, nodding and saying hello to us and telling us to come into the house, before unexpectedly making a pointed remark about Maria’s hair.
‘Have you been brushing it?’ she asked me accusingly.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Although it isn’t easy to brush through as she does have a lot of tangles. We’re coping though!’
Maria still had trouble sleeping and often tossed and turned in her bed, but I didn’t mention this as I was sure it would only have antagonised Christine. Instead I tried to be as bright and breezy as possible, but Christine seemed hell-bent on scoring points against me.
‘I’m the only one who’s ever been able to do her hair properly,’ she said.
I shared a discreet look with Jonathan. We’d seen this kind of behaviour many times before, with parents trying to prove their competence and reclaim their authority over their child. We never rose to it, of course, and in fact I always felt some sympathy for a parent in Christine’s position. It must be very difficult to have your child taken into care, and in many cases the parents have been dealt a bad hand in life themselves and are not always to blame for their circumstances or their behaviour, which is very sad.
Christine led us through the house to the garden, where there was a table, some chairs and a small striped parasol, which she sat underneath. Sweltering in the sun were the two social workers and Mr Benson, the head teacher. Christine indicated that we should sit down on the chairs beside them.
Once the pleasantries and introductions were over, Christine called through to the house, asking Gerry to come outside. It was hard to read Christine on this particular day because of her sunglasses, but we had no such problem with Gerry as he made his feelings towards us very clear.
‘Waste of time,’ he muttered as he stalked out of the house in a dirty vest and tracksuit bottoms. ‘Interfering busybodies.’
One of the social workers invited Gerry to sit down with us, but he said he’d prefer to stand and positioned himself on the other end of the patio, arms folded and staring at us.
Maria’s social worker, Claire, led the meeting, spelling out that Social Services were still looking into Maria’s case and that therefore they wanted her to stay with us for a little longer than originally anticipated. Jonathan and I readily agreed to this, and I told the group, ‘Maria seems to have settled in well, and we’re very happy to have her stay with us a little longer.’
As I finished talking I heard Gerry snort. ‘Settled in well,’ he said, mimicking my voice. ‘Oh we’re so happy to have her!’
It was embarrassing to be mocked like this, but I bit my tongue and shook my head gently, indicating to Claire that I didn’t want to confront it.
Mr Benson offered his support and ran through the problems Maria was having at school.
‘We’re accommodating her as much as we possibly can,’ he said at one point.
‘How very accommodating!’ Gerry muttered, tut-tutting and shaking his head. ‘We’re all so happy and accommodating, we all want to do the best for Maria. My arse!’
‘All right, Gerry,’ Christine said, but he completely ignored her and continued to stare at us, which was making me feel increasingly uncomfortable.
Eventually, he strode across the garden and started pacing up and down beside us. You didn’t have to have a degree in body language to be able to tell that he was incredibly hostile towards us, but just to make sure no one missed the point he continued to interject very rudely. At one point he fired a belligerent question at Jess, which she attempted to answer quietly and politely, despite Gerry’s increasingly aggressive tone. He wasn’t happy with the response and he then proceeded to ask Mr Benson, ‘Which interfering cow of a teacher told you about Maria’s bruises in the first p
lace, anyhow? If it weren’t for her, none of this would have happened. Some people need to learn when to keep their nose out. It was an accident. Read my lips – ac-ci-dent.’
The head teacher tried to contain the situation by explaining that the teacher in question was following guidelines and doing their job properly, to which Gerry replied, ‘Only doing their job, only doing their job, only doing their job.’ Even when we resumed our conversation and tried to move on, Gerry continued to repeat this phrase, like a stuck record.
Then he began to circle our chairs, repeating in an angry imitation of the head teacher’s voice, ‘Only doing their job, only doing their job.’
Claire asked Gerry if he would like to sit down and take part in the conversation we were trying to have, but instead of answering her he walked back across the grass to the other end of the garden, raised one arm in an imitation of a Nazi salute and shouted, ‘Jawohl mein Führer,’ which he kept repeating over and over again, becoming more agitated each time he said it. Finally he spat, ‘Only following orders – yes my leader! Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir!’
Christine lit a cigarette and took a long drag, and then she started examining her deep pink nail polish, as if that were far more important than anything that was happening in her garden.
It was a frightening and deeply unpleasant experience. My heart was pounding and I could sense Jonathan tensing in his chair beside me. I was relieved when one of the social workers finally took the initiative and suggested we should continue the meeting at the nearest Social Services offices. Christine and Gerry both refused to come with us so we left without them, much to everyone’s relief, I think.
The meeting at Social Services – held in a tiny waiting room as that was the only space available – concluded quickly. Both social workers, the head teacher, Jonathan and I were in agreement that we would maintain the current status quo as investigations continued. It was made clear to us, without going into details, that Maria’s case may take a little longer to be dealt with than first anticipated, but Jonathan and I readily agreed that we would carry on as we were in the meantime, and that Maria was welcome to stay with us for as long as necessary.