I Miss Mummy (11 page)

N
ot only had the health visitor never met Alice’s father but Leah had never mentioned him during any of Glenys’s visits. Glenys’s understanding was that Leah had become pregnant by accident, and was parenting alone with the support of her own parents, Janice and Martin Jones, but with no input from Alice’s father. And while Glenys had realized the previous summer, when Leah’s mental health had deteriorated, that Leah needed help, and had been relieved when Alice had gone to stay with her grandparents, she couldn’t understand why Alice had been brought into foster care. She’d assumed, as I would have done, that Alice would have stayed with her grandparents for as long as necessary.

‘I feel dreadful,’ Glenys said, her face creasing with anxiety. ‘I was one of the professionals who raised concerns about Alice, and was therefore responsible for her coming into care. But what could I do? Leah obviously wasn’t coping. I never dreamt Alice would be taken away for good.’ Blaming herself, she looked close to tears.

‘You weren’t the only one who had concerns,’ I said. ‘The doctor also contacted the social services.’

Glenys nodded. She went on to say that Leah had been a very good parent to Alice (which I’d guessed), and that although Leah had had mental health problems the medication had allowed her to function normally, which was what Mrs Jones had told me. Glenys also said that Leah was an intelligent girl who had put her own life on hold to raise Alice. ‘Once Alice was settled at school, Leah was going to continue her education,’ Glenys said. ‘She hated being on benefits and wanted to get a good job. She wanted to do the best for Alice, and always put Alice first.’

I nodded. ‘Did you know the neighbours had reported Leah for screaming at Alice?’

‘No,’ she said, surprised. ‘I certainly never heard Leah raise her voice to Alice when I was there – far from it. She was always very loving and protective. I wonder how the neighbours could be certain it was Alice Leah was screaming at? There might have been someone else there.’ She paused in thought. ‘Leah suddenly started behaving oddly last August. Perhaps she did start screaming at Alice; I suppose it’s possible. But what I don’t understand is why Alice couldn’t have stayed with her grandparents?’

‘I really don’t know,’ I said again. ‘Was Leah on drugs, or drinking to excess? Martha said these had been issues.’

‘Not as far as I know. There was never any evidence of illegal drugs or alcohol abuse when I visited, or I would have said.’

I nodded.

Glenys was clearly a kind and caring person, conscientious in her role as health visitor and very upset at the outcome for Alice. She had acted correctly in alerting the social services and doctor when she’d had concerns for Alice’s safety, but it didn’t stop her feeling she’d been the instigator in the break-up of Alice’s family. ‘I feel so responsible,’ she said again. ‘And there’s no chance of Alice going back to her grandparents?’

‘I don’t think so.’ I couldn’t allay Glenys’s concerns for Alice’s future and neither could she relieve my worries about whether it had been the right decision to bring Alice into care.

Once we’d finished talking I called Alice into the room and Glenys weighed her, measured her height and asked her how she was doing. Alice told Glenys she was now in foster care and I was looking after her, which obviously Glenys knew. ‘But when I stop living with Cathy,’ Alice continued, perhaps seeing salvation in Glenys, ‘I have to go and live with a new mummy. She’s called Sharon. But I don’t want a new mummy, I want my old one. Can you get my old mummy, please?’

Tears welled in Glenys’s eyes at Alice’s naïve request. She looked at Alice and then at me, clearly not knowing what to say to reassure Alice. There was nothing I could say beyond what I’d already said, so I told Alice she was staying with me while ‘everything’ was being sorted out. Then I changed the subject and pointed to the jigsaw Alice had been doing.

‘It’s for a six-year-old,’ I said proudly. ‘Alice has nearly completed it. All by herself!’

‘Well done!’ Glenys said to Alice. ‘That’s very clever. You’re going to be as bright as your mum.’ She stopped and looked as though she could have bitten off her tongue.

‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘We talk about Alice’s mother. It helps keep the memory alive, that and her photograph.’

Glenys nodded, relieved, and, reaching out, gave Alice a big hug before going over and admiring the jigsaw.

Glenys was with us for over an hour, talking to Alice and then again to me – lamenting the break-up of Alice’s family, for which she held herself responsible. Before she left Glenys said she would visit us again in six weeks if Alice was still with me, but if I had any worries in the meantime about Alice’s health or development I should phone her at the clinic. Alice and I saw her to the door, and when she’d gone Alice told me she was a nice lady and her mummy had liked her.

I thought about what Glenys had said – that Leah was an intelligent woman and a good mother, who had wanted to give her daughter the best. I thought about Glenys’s shock when I’d told her that Alice wouldn’t be returning to her grandparents or her mother, but was going to her father and Sharon. I thought about it, and my doubts and misgivings increased. Something hadn’t felt right at the start, when I’d first met Alice and realized she’d been loved and well looked after. Alice’s nursery teacher and now her health visitor had confirmed this and clearly felt as I did that taking Alice from her grandparents and giving her to the father she’d never known didn’t make sense. Either the grandparents were not the people they appeared to be
and the social services had good reason to take Alice away, or a dreadful mistake had occurred and the family had been wrenched apart unnecessarily, causing untold pain and emotional damage. Was it possible, I wondered, that with all the changes of social worker (Martha had been the third) errors of judgement had occurred and a ‘quick-fix’ solution of sending Alice to her father had resulted?

When the Guardian Ad Litem phoned the next day to say she would like to visit us the following week I was very pleased. The Guardian ad Litem – appointed by the judge in childcare proceedings – has an in-depth knowledge of the case, having read the files and been in close contact with all parties. She (or he) advises the judge on what is best for the child. I knew the Guardian would be able to answer my questions and, I hoped, reassure me that the correct decision had been made. Her name was Carole and she made an appointment to visit us at 4.30 p.m. the following Wednesday, but when she came, far from allaying my concerns, she added to them.

I
told Alice that Carole would be coming to see us. Alice had some understanding of the Guardian’s role in deciding her future, and had met Carole once before when she’d been living with her grandparents. But as usual after seeing her nana and grandpa, Alice was very subdued and clingy, and needed lots of cuddles and reassurance that it wouldn’t be long until Saturday when she could speak to them on the phone. When the Guardian came, not realizing this, or forgetting that Alice had just had contact with her grandparents, she tried to chat to Alice, who was on the sofa, snuggled close into my side.

‘How was nursery today?’ Carole asked brightly, as one would normally, talking to a child. ‘What did you do?’

Alice nodded glumly but didn’t say anything.

‘Don’t you like nursery?’ Carole asked. ‘You used to. I remember you told me.’

‘Alice is just a bit sad from having said goodbye to her nana and grandpa,’ I explained. ‘She saw them this afternoon,’ I reminded her.

‘Ah, right,’ Carole said. ‘Yes, of course.’ Then to Alice: ‘How are Nana and Grandpa? Did you play some games?’

Alice gave a small nod, but still wouldn’t be drawn. Carole’s well-meaning, jolly conversation wasn’t really appropriate for the loss and sadness Alice was feeling, having parted from her dear grandparents an hour before. Then Alice lifted her head from where it had been resting against my arm and, looking at the Guardian, said defiantly: ‘My nana and grandpa still love me. And they won’t stop loving me!’

Carole was clearly taken aback. ‘Of course they won’t stop loving you,’ she said uncomfortably.

‘And my mum still loves me,’ Alice added, with the same challenge to Carole to prove differently. ‘Even though you won’t let me see her!’

The Guardian looked even more uncomfortable, for it was clear Alice was holding her responsible for her loss. ‘Can we talk privately?’ Carole said to me.

I nodded and, taking Alice from the sitting room, called upstairs to the girls, who were in their bedrooms, relaxing after school. Lucy appeared on the landing and I asked her to look after Alice until I’d finished speaking to Carole. Alice scampered upstairs, pleased to be in Lucy’s company rather than that of the Guardian.

In the sitting room, with the door closed so we couldn’t be overheard, Carole said, ‘I don’t think Alice has a very good understanding of what is happening in her life.’

‘No,’ I agreed. ‘And with so little information, and no social worker to ask, it’s very difficult for me to explain to her. Indeed I’m not sure I understand myself. Why
was Alice taken from her grandparents and brought into care? And why is she being sent to live with her father, whom she doesn’t know? I’ve been a foster carer a very long time, and until now I have always been able to see the reasons for the decisions that have been made, but not with Alice.’ I stopped and felt my cheeks flush with emotion.

The Guardian looked at me, puzzled. ‘But I thought contact with dad and step-mum was going all right?’

‘It’s all right,’ I said, feeling the Guardian was missing the point. ‘But why is Alice going to live with them? From what I understand her father didn’t have any involvement in her life until all this happened.’

‘But he wants her now,’ Carole said, almost with tunnel vision. ‘And it’s encouraging that Sharon is so enthusiastic in her new role as a parent.’

‘Too enthusiastic,’ I heard myself say. Carole looked at me. ‘Sharon is all over Alice like a rash. But no one seems to mind that there is not the same enthusiasm coming from Chris.’ By ‘no one’ I meant the decision makers – i.e. the Guardian, the social services and ultimately the judge, which I knew Carole would realize.

Carole remained calm and composed, to the point of being distant. ‘I think it is generally accepted that Chris would never have sought custody of Alice had it not been for Sharon. So it’s very lucky for Alice that Sharon wants her.’ Which was what Martha had said.

‘Alice is very resentful of Sharon trying to be her mother. I know Sharon probably means well, but she is going about it the wrong way. Sharon needs to back off, stop telling Alice to call her Mum and let Alice warm to
her in her own time.’ I was putting it bluntly, but I’d had two months of having to defend Sharon to Alice every Tuesday and Thursday before and after contact.

‘I’ll mention it to Sharon when I visit them,’ Carole said. ‘Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Obviously we want the transition to Dad and Sharon to go smoothly.’

Clearly the Guardian and I were viewing the situation from very different perspectives. I wasn’t sure if she was being deliberately evasive or hadn’t realized the depth of Alice’s feelings. ‘You know Alice has a very strong bond with her own mother,’ I said. ‘She desperately needs to see her.’

‘It’s not possible at present,’ Carole said. ‘Leah’s not well. She wouldn’t be able to hold it together for contact. She hasn’t the self-control.’

‘What about telephone contact?’

‘The same applies.’

‘So I assume as soon as Leah is well enough, contact will be set up so Alice can see or at least speak to her mother?’ I said, championing what Alice needed.

Carole nodded, took a notepad from her bag and wrote what I assumed was a reminder.

‘What I don’t understand.’ I persisted, ‘is why Alice couldn’t have stayed with her grandparents. She’s very close to them and they appear to have done a very good job looking after Alice. She misses them greatly.’

Carole looked up, and her reply left me absolutely astounded. ‘I wasn’t sure about that either,’ she said. I stared at her open-mouthed as she continued. ‘The first social worker involved in Alice’s case felt that Janice
and Martin Jones were too old to offer long-term care to Alice. They’re in their sixties now, which means they’ll be in their seventies by the time Alice is a teenager.’

‘And that was the reason for Alice being taken from them?’ I asked, amazed. ‘Their age in ten years’ time?’

‘Mainly.’

‘But Alice won’t need long-term care from her grandparents. Surely once Leah is better she’ll be able to look after Alice again, as she has done in the past?’

‘I did raise that at the time, but the social worker felt going to dad was the best option. Then of course there was the issue of Mr and Mrs Jones failing to cooperate with the social services.’

‘How did they fail to cooperate?’ I asked – or rather nearly demanded. ‘By allowing Alice to see her mother at Christmas?’ I could feel my pulse rising and I knew I had to calm down.

‘It wasn’t just Christmas,’ Carole said evenly. ‘They allowed Leah into their house to see Alice at other times.’

‘But Leah is their daughter, for goodness’ sake! Alice is their granddaughter. How could they not allow them to see each other?’

‘Precisely. That’s what the social services said – another reason for sending Alice to live with father. He and Sharon won’t have the same problem.’

‘That’s for sure. There’s so much animosity between Chris and Mr and Mrs Jones that when Alice goes to live with her father I doubt she’ll ever see her mother or grandparents again!’ I took a breath and lowered my tone. ‘Leah’s not an ogre,’ I said. ‘By all accounts she was
a good mother until she became ill last August. What support was put in to help her?’

‘I don’t think it was much,’ Carole replied. ‘Chris and Sharon were very eager to have Alice, and the social services thought it was the best solution. But to be honest the final nail in the coffin for Alice ever being returned to her grandparents was their role in Alice’s abduction.’

‘They didn’t have a role in her abduction, did they?’ I asked, amazed. ‘I thought they were at home looking after Alice when Leah snatched her.’

‘Yes, they were. That’s the point. They didn’t stop Leah from taking Alice.’

‘What were they supposed to do? Fight off their daughter?’

Carole looked at me and was silent for a moment. I thought I had probably said too much. ‘I appreciate your concerns,’ she said after a while, in the same even tone. ‘When we have a new social worker or team manager in place, I’ll meet them and review some aspects of Alice’s case. Would that put your mind at rest?’

‘Yes, it would. Thank you. I only have Alice’s best interest at heart.’

Carol nodded and made another note on her pad, perhaps reminding herself to meet the social services, or perhaps that I was becoming too involved, or above my station – who knew? But at least I had had my say and voiced my doubts, for I would never have forgiven myself if the wrong decision had been made, Alice’s life had been ruined and I’d said nothing.

Carole then asked about Alice’s health, her routine, her general disposition and if she’d ever mentioned an ‘Uncle Mike’. I had to think for a minute, for the name rang a bell. I fetched my log notes and flipped back to when Alice had first arrived.

‘Yes, I thought so,’ I said, running my finger down the page. ‘Alice said it was Uncle Mike who collected her and her mother from the hide at the quarry, where they’d been sleeping. She said Uncle Mike was Mummy’s friend.’

Carole nodded and made another note. ‘That’s correct. He is Leah’s partner and he played a vital role in finding Alice after Leah had snatched her. He acted as go-between, the intermediary, passing text and phone messages between the police and Leah as they negotiated for Alice to be returned. He is a positive influence on Leah and has stood by her.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Are they are still together?’

‘As far as I know.’

Before Carole left, she said she would be in touch again as soon as the new social worker was in post and she’d had a chance to speak to him or her, which she hoped wouldn’t be too long. I hoped so too, for although clearly Alice wasn’t in any danger, as a child in an abusive home would have been, it was unfair and emotionally damaging to Alice to leave her in limbo – in foster care. If she was going to live with her father, as seemed likely, then the social services needed to get her settled there as soon as possible so that she could get on with the rest of her life. At present her life was on hold, and if I wasn’t very careful all the good parenting that
her mother and grandparents had done would be undone by the uncertainty. Alice was old enough and intelligent enough to worry about what was going to happen to her.