The Girl and the Ghosts

by Angela Hart

  ‘I’ve come to tell you not to worry, Maria. We’ll get you back. Don’t you worry about it. They won’t keep you in care. There’s no reason for it. You’ll be going home soon, don’t you worry.’

  Maria looked very uncomfortable, and as soon as Cherie had said her piece Maria looked back at the game she’d been playing and didn’t say anything.

  ‘Do you understand, Maria?’

  Maria continued to look at her computer game and clearly had no intention of engaging in this conversation. I could see that, but Cherie seemed convinced that Maria simply hadn’t understood, and so she became even more determined to get her message across.

  ‘You’ll be out of here soon,’ Cherie said, raising her voice. Glancing at Jonathan and me, she went on, ‘No disrespect, but you don’t belong here, Maria. You should be at home, there’s no reason to keep you away. We’re fixing it. It’ll all be better soon. Don’t worry!’

  I’d walked over to the kettle but decided not to make a pot of tea after all, despite having offered. This was unacceptable behaviour in my book, and I had to do my best to get Cherie and her husband out of our house as quickly and diplomatically as possible.

  ‘Goodness me, I hadn’t realised the time, Cherie. I hope you don’t mind but I’ll have to get on with the dinner now, we’ve a lot to do this evening and I need to help Maria with her homework.’

  Cherie barely acknowledged me, but then made another, rather bizarre, attempt at getting through to Maria. Even Clive looked a bit nonplussed, as Cherie appeared to have a lightbulb moment and announced triumphantly, ‘Just think of yourself as being like the boy in that film . . . Oh, what’s the name of that film?’ She turned to her husband as she asked the question, but he just shrugged, and a moment later she answered it herself. ‘Goodnight Mister Tom, that was it!’ She sounded jubilant. ‘Do you remember, Maria? He gets sent away from London during the war and then he goes back to live with his mum.’

  ‘Well, maybe that’s not the best . . .’ I interjected, my memory of the film being that the child had some very traumatic experiences, which I didn’t want Maria to think might have some bearing on her situation. Now that she had warmed to her theme, however, Maria’s step-grandmother wasn’t about to let the subject drop.

  ‘That’s it!’ she said again. ‘You’re just like one of those refugees. So you don’t need to be scared, because we’ll definitely get you back.’

  Fortunately, however, Maria was no longer paying any attention at all to what Cherie was saying and was completely engrossed in catching characters in her computer game. At least that was the impression she gave.

  I decided to tentatively ask Cherie if Social Services had agreed to this visit, as I suspected they hadn’t and I thought that might be a subtle way of getting Cherie to leave sooner rather than later.

  In a tone of voice that conveyed very clearly the fact that she didn’t care what might or might not be ‘allowed’, she replied, ‘We are Maria’s grandparents. We have a right to see our grandchild.’

  Fortunately, after then begrudgingly making a little bit of small talk with us, Cherie took the hint and left, with Clive following behind. I was very relieved when they had gone. I got the sense that Cherie’s behaviour might be almost as erratic and unpredictable as her son’s, and although Jonathan was incredibly polite to them, I knew without asking that he had the same feeling.

  I left Maria and Jonathan busy together in the kitchen while I went upstairs to the living room to phone Social Services and report what had happened, as we were bound to do. It turned out that Cherie and her husband should not have had any contact with Maria while her case was being investigated, which I had suspected. I reassured the duty social worker that the visit had been brief, we did not leave Maria alone with her step-grandparents and that we had felt, in the circumstances, it was best not to cause a scene that might have upset Maria.

  Social Services offered us complete support, thank goodness, although I was not told specifically why the step-grandparents were denied access. Following this visit Cherie and her husband were reminded that one of the conditions of the voluntary care order was that all contact with Maria had to be prearranged and supervised and that any visits that were agreed upon were not, under any circumstances, to take place at our house.

  The most important thing in any situation like that is always the safety of the child. We would have asked the step-grandparents to leave if Maria had been at all upset, and we also would have phoned the police if they hadn’t done so without arguing. Fortunately, as things turned out, Maria didn’t seem unduly bothered by the visit, and I’m very glad to say the incident wasn’t ever repeated.

  Learning to deal with the families of children has been an ongoing learning curve for us, ever since we started fostering. Jonathan and I sometimes talk about our early days almost thirty years ago, when I first decided I wanted to do fostering and he agreed to give it a try.

  One of the things we look back on with amazement now is how naive we both were and how straightforward we thought it would be. What we assumed would happen would be that we would take a child into our loving home and they would be as happy to live with us as we were to have them. Then, when whatever problem had precipitated their stay in care was solved, they’d go home again, and we’d repeat the process with another child. It didn’t ever work like that, of course, for a whole multitude of reasons, which seem so obvious to us now, but which we hadn’t taken into account at all when we started fostering all those years ago.

  Something else we hadn’t even considered was the fact that children’s families can sometimes cause far more problems than the children themselves. In those early days, we didn’t think about the parents and grandparents who don’t want to look after their children, the ones who aren’t allowed to, or the ones who don’t know how to and consequently feel bad about themselves if someone else succeeds where they believe they’ve failed.

  It didn’t even cross our minds that when some parents see their children’s lives being turned around by someone else, their instinct might be to manipulate everyone involved – telling the social worker one thing, the child another and the foster carers something else – in the hope that the placement will break down, thereby proving that whatever problems the child was experiencing weren’t the parents’ fault after all. It’s an aspect of fostering that’s often very relevant, however.

  ‘At least Cherie wasn’t as bad as some of the family members we’ve encountered,’ Jonathan reflected afterwards.

  ‘Quite,’ I said, immediately thinking about one of the most upsetting scenes we’d ever had with a parent.

  Jonathan knew precisely what I was thinking about.

  ‘That awful father,’ he said. ‘Now that was a bad situation.’

  The incident we were both thinking about happened a few years before Maria first stayed with us. Jonathan and I were at a meeting with a social worker, a young lad called Jimmy and his highly volatile father.

  ‘Are you happy living with Angela and Jonathan?’ the social worker asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Jimmy replied with some trepidation.

  With that his father leapt up and almost flew across the table before punching his young son in the chest. The poor boy didn’t know what to do. He was embarrassed and hurt and completely confused. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, tell him it was all right and give him a big cuddle, but of course that would have enraged the father even more. Instead, Jonathan and I had to sit there silently while the social worker dealt with the situation, and we were both so shaken up it took us some time to regain our composure. That is why we say that, although we’ve fostered some children whose behaviour has been extremely challenging, unfortunately some of the most difficult people we’ve had to deal with over the years have probably been some of the parents.

  It’s important as a foster carer to believe in yourself, trust that what you are doing is for the benefit of the child and try to ignore, as best you can, any unjustified negative reaction
and input from families. It’s not always easy to do this because even though we are highly trained, and are taught how to deal with the most difficult situations, at the end of the day we are human beings too. Our feelings get hurt, we sometimes doubt ourselves and at times it is incredibly difficult for Jonathan and me not to follow our gut reactions when we witness inappropriate contact or communication from a parent or a member of the child’s extended family.

  Happily, as I said earlier, the many professionals we deal with are, on the whole, very supportive of our role, and this helps to counterbalance the bad press we sometimes get from families. For instance, not long after the visit from Cherie, I had to take Maria for one of her regular medical check-ups. She was required to have a medical assessment prior to the impending court hearing that would decide whether she could return to her family, and it was my job to take her to the GP.

  ‘Hello Maria and hello Mrs Hart!’ the doctor exclaimed chirpily. He was the same GP we’d seen when Maria first arrived several months earlier, when I took her for a routine check-up required by Social Services, and he was clearly pleased to see us.

  ‘You’re looking very well, Maria,’ he smiled, before running through all he needed to do, such as checking her weight and height and asking some questions about medication, diet, possible allergies and so on.

  When he’d finished the GP remarked, ‘Well, I must say Mrs Hart, I’m astounded by the progress Maria has made since I last saw her. Her eyes are clearer, her skin’s a better colour, and she’s obviously far less anxious than she was even just a couple of months ago. Whatever it is you’re doing, it’s working!’

  It’s nice, on a personal level, to feel that someone like that understands what you’re trying to do and is aware of at least some of what’s involved in trying to do it. What’s even more important for Jonathan and me, though, is knowing that we’ve made a difference to a child’s health and wellbeing. I was thrilled Maria was making such good physical progress, and that helped me stay positive whenever I heard another barbed comment down the phone from Christine.

  ‘We’ll get you away from there, don’t you worry,’ Christine said during a subsequent phone call to Maria.

  During another call, Gerry came on the line.

  ‘Are you looking forward to coming home?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Maria said uncertainly.

  ‘Are you telling the truth?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s good, because you know that I know when you are lying, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Gerry. I would never lie to you!’

  I indicated to Maria that she needed to ask for her mum to come back on the phone, as she was only meant to speak to Christine, not Gerry, but Maria seemed very eager to please Gerry and tell him what he wanted to hear. I could sense she was afraid to rush him off the phone. Afterwards, I gently asked her how she was feeling.

  ‘Brilliant!’ she said, giving me one of her false-looking smiles. ‘I can’t wait to go home!’

  I found it painful to watch her and listen to her when she behaved like that. It was as if she was scared Gerry was going to appear at any second and would catch her out if she said the wrong thing, but he lived miles away, so how come he had such a hold on her like this? Needless to say, I was also cross that Christine and Gerry, like Cherie, were making statements and promises they had no right to, as Maria’s fate was out of their hands.

  The imminent court hearing was taking far longer than anticipated, but I was in no rush for it to happen. As well as being healthier than when she first came back to stay with us, Maria was doing better with her schoolwork and her behaviour in school had improved too. Jonathan and I were happy to have her for as long as it took, and it made us quite sad to think that, whatever the courts and Social Services decided next, Maria would be leaving us – either to go home or to go and live with a permanent mainstream foster carer.

  ‘I’ll miss her,’ I told Jonathan.

  ‘Don’t think about that yet,’ he said, wisely. ‘Just focus on how you are helping her. Think what the doctor said: Maria’s making good progress. You should give yourself a pat on the back, because this is not an easy scenario at all.’

  I knew Jonathan was right, and I told him so, adding that it was also a good thing that Maria was making progress at school. Still, I couldn’t help worrying about Maria’s future. The fact I would miss her was a minor concern compared to the much more important issue. Would Maria continue to thrive when she entered the next chapter of her life?

  17

  ‘He can see me’

  Over the next few weeks, Maria continued to go to church every Saturday and to do her Bible-reading sessions. Everyone at the church did what he or she could to ensure that it all fitted seamlessly into her life, and ours, and Maria never once complained.

  ‘Are you looking forward to going to church this morning?’ I asked her one Saturday as we were driving there.

  ‘Yes, of course!’ she gushed, somewhat unnaturally.

  ‘That’s good. But you know, Maria, you are allowed to say if there is anything you don’t enjoy, and I don’t just mean with church.’

  I said this because Maria’s tendency to pull a fake smile had been more noticeable lately. When my mum asked her about school she said it was ‘brilliant’ even though I knew this wasn’t entirely true. Despite the fact Maria’s academic work had improved, I continued to get the odd call from the head teacher about temper tantrums and reports that Maria had run out of a classroom. Plus, if I asked Maria how she felt her phone call with her mum had gone, for instance, she’d say it was ‘fantastic’. One time she even added, very unconvincingly, ‘And it was even better than normal because I got to say hello to Gerry!’

  Maria’s eyes narrowed when I told her she was allowed to say if there was anything she wasn’t enjoying.

  ‘I won’t be cross with you,’ I smiled. ‘You can tell me if there is anything at all you want to say about church, or school, or anything else.’

  ‘He can see me,’ she said very seriously, gazing at the church, which had just come into view as I turned a corner.

  ‘God? Do you mean the presence of God is all around?’

  Maria blanked me as I parked the car, and she went into the church without saying another word.

  Christmas was coming and I received a phone call from Babs.

  ‘Christine and Gerry don’t want Maria to have any presents,’ she said. ‘But I’m just going to get her something, Angela. I’ll just tell Maria to keep it a secret. I mean, I ask you – how can you refuse a child presents at Christmas?’

  ‘I see, thanks, Babs,’ I said, thinking that I was going to have to run this past Social Services. I didn’t want to have this conversation with Babs, as she was talking in the conspiratorial way she often did, and I could tell she wanted to recruit me to her way of thinking. I didn’t want to get caught up in a situation that could cause trouble in the family, and I didn’t want to ask Maria to keep secrets from her family, so I tried to change the subject. However, Babs would not drop it.

  ‘Between you and me, Angela, Gerry does celebrate Christmas. He gets presents for his lads and he and Christine have all the trimmings and the tinsel. I saw it for myself last year. I don’t think it’s fair that only Maria has to stick to the rules.’

  I was horrified to hear this, but not entirely surprised. It seemed that Maria always got the raw end of the deal within her family, with Gerry being the person laying down the unfair rules. Why Christine didn’t challenge him I could not imagine.

  Before I spoke to my social worker I decided to ask at the church about Christmas celebrations, or the lack of them, and one of the ladies who did the Bible classes explained to me that there was nothing in the Bible to suggest 25 December was a special day. ‘But now that it has become so commercialised,’ she went on, ‘some people prefer to focus only on God on that day, so that they don’t get involved in the materialism of it all.’

  ‘In other words, it’s a
choice, not a rule that is set in stone?’

  ‘Exactly, Angela. Some members of our church do celebrate Christmas in some way, but others don’t. Everybody is individual.’

  I imagined most families supported each other in this choice and didn’t set different rules for different people, as Gerry had. I didn’t mention this, of course, because I knew there was already hostility towards Gerry within the church, and what was the point in creating more? I felt very cross, though, on behalf of Maria.

  I called Social Services and discussed this issue with our support social worker, Jess. I explained that one of the problems was that Tom and Dillon, and indeed Jonathan and I, and my mother, would all be celebrating Christmas together, complete with presents and all the usual treats and festivities. As Jess considered this, Christine put in a request to Social Services for Maria to spend the day with different foster carers, who wouldn’t be celebrating in any way.

  ‘I’m sorry, Angela,’ Jess told me. ‘I’m going to have to try to fix this up; there is no way round it. Maria is on a voluntary care order and Christine’s views have to be catered for as best we can.’

  I understood, though I wasn’t happy with the situation. It wasn’t the fact Maria wouldn’t get presents, but the thought that she would be spending Christmas Day with strangers while the rest of us – including Gerry, Christine and her stepbrothers, not to mention her brother, Colin, Babs and Stanley – all enjoyed the festivities that made my heart bleed.

  Thankfully, when it came to the crunch, Jess failed to find a suitable foster family who shared the same religious beliefs and could take Maria in. Several of the families from the church offered to have her, as I think Maria must have told them what had happened, but that wasn’t possible either because none of them were approved foster carers.

  Anyone looking after a child, whether as a parent, guardian, foster carer, teacher or childminder, constantly has to make decisions. For people who are employed in some capacity as child carers, there are innumerable laws and regulations that govern what they can and can’t do. However, there are still some decisions that have to be made on the basis of common sense and life experience, and it seemed to me that this was a case where common sense needed to prevail.