I Miss Mummy (19 page)

Alice had phoned her grandparents the evening before and wasn’t due to phone them again until the following Saturday; she wouldn’t be seeing them until the week after. I remained seated on the sofa with a growing need to reassure myself and make sure Leah was all right. I didn’t want to leave it until Kitty was in the office the following day. Realizing I was probably over-reacting and about to make a complete fool of myself, but at the same time feeling that if I didn’t say anything and something dreadful happened I’d never forgive myself, at nearly 9.00 p.m. I phoned Alice’s grandparents.

‘Is Alice all right?’ Mrs Jones immediately asked, anxious on hearing my voice.

‘Yes, she’s fine. She’s had a lovely birthday and is now asleep.’

‘Thank God. I thought for a moment something was wrong.’

‘No, Alice is fine. I’m sorry to phone you like this but I just wanted to make sure Leah was all right. I know it’s probably nothing, but Leah wrote some words in Alice’s birthday card that made me think she might be considering doing something silly – desperate.’

There was silence before Mrs Jones spoke and in that silence I knew I had been right to be worried. ‘Leah tried to commit suicide last night,’ Mrs Jones said. ‘Thankfully Mike came home and found her in time.’

‘
I
should have realized Alice’s birthday was more than Leah could cope with,’ Mrs Jones continued in a subdued voice. ‘Leah was doing so well, and now this. She had returned to her flat and Mike had moved in. He’s blaming himself for not spotting the warning signs.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘Where is Leah now?’

‘At home, with Mike. They pumped out her stomach at the hospital and she returned home early this morning. Mike is taking time off work to look after her. His manager at the garage is being very understanding. Mike is badly shaken up too. He got in late last night, after working the evening shift, and found Leah on the sofa with a bottle of tablets beside her. She left a note saying that life wasn’t worth living without Alice. The poor girl misses her daughter so much – she desperately needs to see her.’

‘And Alice needs to see her mother,’ I said. ‘Even though she can’t live with her, they should be seeing each other, at contact.’

‘I know,’ Mrs Jones said quietly.

I hesitated, aware that having been reassured Leah was safe, I should now say goodnight and that I would phone with Alice as usual the following Saturday, but I didn’t.

‘Janice,’ I said, using her first name. ‘I think you and I have worked very well together since Alice came into care. I hope you trust me enough to know I always have Alice’s best interest at heart.’

‘Oh yes, of course, Cathy. Martin and I can’t thank you enough.’

‘There is no need to thank me – Alice is a treasure to look after – but I would like to speak plainly to you, if I may. How much of what I say you pass on to Leah is obviously up to you, but I think the present situation, with Alice not seeing her mother, has gone on far too long. It is very bad for both of them.’

‘Well, yes,’ Mrs Jones said hesitantly. ‘Go ahead.’

‘I appreciate that when Alice first came into care Leah wasn’t well enough to see her daughter, but from what I understand from Kitty now, Leah has improved in recent months, apart from the setback last night.’

‘Yes, she has,’ Mrs Jones confirmed.

‘I think the reason Leah won’t engage with Kitty and talk to her about the possibility of contact being set up is now more to do with Leah’s anger, and her fears, rather than her present mental health.’

Mrs Jones was quiet for a moment. ‘What do you mean, exactly?’

‘Did you know that Kitty phoned Leah three times last month, inviting her to go to her office to discuss setting up contact so she can see Alice?’

‘No, I didn’t. When was this?’

‘I don’t know the exact dates. But I do know that each time Kitty phoned Leah, Leah became so angry that Kitty eventually had to end the call. Leah wouldn’t listen to what Kitty was saying but shouted down the phone that she would never agree to supervised contact, and then called Kitty a lot of names, which didn’t help. I think Leah’s anger and fear are getting in the way of her seeing Alice. She is angry with herself for Alice going into care, and it is stopping her from moving forward. In the birthday card she sent to Alice she says she should have been stronger and blames herself for losing Alice. Leah needs to stop blaming herself, and accusing Kitty, and concentrate on trying to see Alice. I know Leah isn’t well enough to look after Alice and might never be, but I think if she could let go of her pain and anger and stop wallowing in her own misery, she might be well enough to start seeing Alice again at contact. She has the support of Mike, and I know Kitty suggested that Mike accompany Leah to any meetings.’

‘Did she?’ Mrs Jones asked, surprised.

‘Yes, but Leah wouldn’t listen and screamed that Kitty had taken Alice from her. Kitty is one of the best social workers I have come across and she is doing all she can to help Leah, so that mother and daughter can see each other. Janice, if you have any influence over Leah I think you need to talk to her and tell her it is essential she put her own hurt and anger to one side for the sake of her daughter, before it’s too late.

Mrs Jones was quiet on the other end of the phone and I wondered if I had said too much and she’d taken
offence. No one likes to be told what to do, particularly when it comes from some know-it-all trying to give a mother unasked-for advice about her daughter. I would have been most put out if I’d been in the same situation, although I hope I would have been able to swallow my pride and listen to what I was being told. ‘Anyway,’ I said after a moment. ‘I’ve said what I wanted to. Please take my advice in the spirit in which it is given. I only want what is best for Alice. I’m relieved Leah is safe and being looked after; please give her my best wishes. I’ll phone you again, as usual, with Alice next Saturday.’

‘Goodnight,’ Mrs Jones said quietly. The line went dead.

Before I went to bed that night I wrote up my log notes, including Alice’s party and the unscheduled phone call I’d made to Mrs Jones. Although I thought it was unlikely, I couldn’t be sure that Mrs Jones wouldn’t report me to the social services for phoning her and making a nuisance of myself. If a complaint was made by Mrs Jones (and I seemed to be attracting complaints since I’d been looking after Alice), I could produce my log notes and justify my action in the context of my concerns for Leah. Detailed log notes are not only for the child’s and social services’ benefit but can also be used as evidence to support what a foster carer is saying.

The following day, Monday, we fell into our school routine, with Alice still chattering happily about her birthday and party, and the wonderful time she’d had. She wanted to take her birthday cards into school to show her class, as they were allowed to do, and
I gathered up the cards from the mantelpiece in the sitting room, all except the one from her mother, which Alice said was ‘private’ and only for her.

Jill phoned just after lunch and for a moment I thought Mrs Jones had reported me but Jill asked how Alice’s party had gone and also wanted to update me. She said she’d spoken to Kitty that morning, who’d told her of Leah’s attempted suicide and also that the criminal proceedings against Chris hadn’t yet been given a court date, so the childcare proceedings were still on hold.

‘Kitty phoned the CPS,’ Jill said, referring to the Crown Prosecution Service, ‘and they have promised to set a date for the case against Chris soon. It’s unfair to keep Alice in foster care indefinitely without a decision on her future. Alice will certainly be with you for this Christmas, and possibly the following Christmas too at this rate!’ And while I wouldn’t have minded one little bit if Alice had been with me for all the following Christmases, I too recognized it was unfair to keep her in care and she should be settled with her forever family as soon as possible.

The week continued as usual: Alice went to school, played with the toys she’d had for her birthday in the evenings and saw her father and Sharon for an hour on Tuesday and Thursday. I heard nothing more about my unscheduled phone call to Mrs Jones, so I assumed it hadn’t been reported and Mrs Jones had taken my advice in the spirit in which I’d given it. Then on Friday, as I was looking forward to a reasonably
relaxing weekend after all the excitement of the previous one, with Alice’s birthday and party, a little miracle happened, for which I was truly grateful.

It was just after 11.00 a.m. and I’d not been in long from shopping – stocking up the fridge for the weekend – when the phone rang. Leaving the unpacked carrier bags in the kitchen, I answered the phone in the sitting room. It was Kitty and as usual she asked after my family and me before coming to the reason for her phone call.

‘A step forward,’ Kitty began, her tone optimistic. ‘I’ve finally had a meeting with Leah and Mike. Yesterday afternoon they came into the office and as a result I’m setting up contact for Alice to see her mother this Monday.’

‘Alice is seeing her mother on Monday!’ I repeated, unable to believe my ears. ‘Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.’

‘Yes, it is, but I don’t want you to tell Alice yet, not until Monday, when Leah has arrived at the family centre and I know she is able to go through with the contact. Cathy, this is what I would like you to do. On Monday collect Alice from school as usual in the afternoon. Then start a slow drive to the family centre. I will phone you when mum arrives, and at that point pull over and tell Alice she is seeing her mother. But when you tell Alice, please make sure she understands she is only seeing her mother and it certainly doesn’t mean she will be living with her.’

‘Yes, I will.’

‘If Leah doesn’t arrive at the family centre I will phone you and you’ll have to think of an excuse as to why you
haven’t gone straight home with Alice after school. I don’t want you to say anything to Alice. I don’t want her hopes raised and then dashed. I’m really not sure if Leah will be able to go through with it, but if she does, and contact is good, then we will continue every Monday.’

‘Fantastic!’ I said again.

‘I’ve asked Leah to meet me just before the start of contact so that I can make sure she is in a fit state to see Alice. If she’s too upset, I’ll have to cancel it. Mike will be bringing Leah to the family centre, but he understands he won’t be part of the contact, not for the first few sessions at least. These will be between Alice and her mother, so they can get to know each other again after all this time. Although of course if Alice is going to be adopted,’ Kitty added, ‘the contact will be stopped, but at this stage Leah is entitled to see her daughter, and Alice should be seeing her mother.’

‘Yes,’ I replied, thoughtfully. ‘In some ways this has come too late.’

‘We’ll see,’ Kitty said. ‘I liked Leah. I was expecting an ogre but she’s actually very pleasant. She can talk sensibly, although she can become agitated very quickly. It’s something I’ve warned her to be careful of at contact. Leah understands that contact will be supervised by one of the staff at the family centre, and I too will be there for the first session. I’ve explained that the supervisor and I will intervene if we feel it isn’t going well or it is too much for Alice to cope with. I know it puts Leah under pressure but I’m safeguarding Alice.’

Kitty paused as though she was considering whether to tell me something.

‘Cathy,’ she continued after a moment, ‘Leah said something at the meeting which made me wonder about the true level of violence Chris inflicted on her. She said if there was no chance of her looking after Alice again, and her parents were considered too old, then she would rather Alice was adopted than go to Chris, although she understands this would mean she would never see Alice again. Leah said she was sure it was only a matter of time before Chris’s violence resurfaced and he hit Sharon, and possibly Alice. I’ve found a note on the file where Leah had said something similar to the social worker who was first involved in the case, but that social worker felt Leah was being vindictive towards Chris. Given what has happened since – with him breaking into her flat and assaulting her – and what Alice has told us of last summer, I think Leah and her parents have been telling the truth. I’m pleased Alice didn’t go straight to Chris and Sharon’s as was first intended, when his behaviour wasn’t an issue.’

‘It has always been an issue for the grandparents,’ I said cautiously.

‘I know. Mr and Mrs Jones should have been listened to more closely. They played a big part in Alice’s life but their views seem to have been dismissed.’ Kitty paused again, perhaps reflecting on how Alice’s case could have been handled differently at the beginning, for it did seem that not enough time had been spent listening to, and taking into account, what Leah and her parents had been saying instead of ‘fast-tracking’ Alice to Chris and Sharon, who I suppose offered the best (and easiest) solution at the time. ‘Anyway,’ Kitty said, ‘fingers
crossed that it all goes well on Monday. Thank goodness Mrs Jones was able to make Leah see sense. Leah told me her mother gave her a good talking to and it seems to have worked.’

‘Thank goodness,’ I agreed.

A
lthough I was acutely aware that if Alice was adopted, seeing her mother would quickly come to an end, it didn’t dampen my enthusiasm for Alice seeing her on Monday. It would have been very negative and harmful for both of them if their last memory of each other had been as fugitives, hiding at the quarry, with Alice being taken to the police station in the dead of night. At least now, if everything went according to plan, mother and daughter would have the chance to spend some time together each week before eventually having to say goodbye (if Alice was adopted), painful though that would be. Parting forever was in the future – months, possibly a year ahead; for now I was elated that Alice and Leah would finally be seeing each other again after a separation of eight months.

It was 3.25 p.m. as, hand in hand, Alice and I left the school playground and walked along the pavement, towards the car. Alice was telling me what she’d had for school dinner: fish fingers, mashed potatoes and peas, followed by sticky-toffee pudding and custard;
her dinner often seemed to be the highlight of the school day. According to Kitty’s instructions I should now take a slow drive in the direction of the family centre, twenty minutes away, during which time Kitty would phone to advise me if contact was going ahead, when I would tell Alice. I took my time settling Alice into the car and adjusting her seatbelt before I climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door. It was now 3.31. I started the engine and slowly pulled out. As I did I said a silent prayer that Leah would find the strength to go to the family centre, meet Kitty and then wait for Alice to arrive.

The route to the family centre is the same as that from school to home for the first ten minutes, and then the two routes divide. I knew that Alice, intelligent and alert, would spot straightaway when we turned off and were no longer following the route home. I’d already decided that if Kitty hadn’t phoned by then I would have to tell Alice a little fib and say we were going to the retail park for something I needed to buy. Likewise if Kitty phoned to say contact wasn’t going ahead I would use the same excuse for not having gone straight home, and then stop off at the retail park. I’d no idea what I was going to buy, but doubtless I would think of something.

Sure enough at 3.43 as I turned off the route home, Alice’s little voice came from the rear of the car: ‘Cathy, this isn’t the right way. It’s Monday, and I don’t have contact on Monday.’

‘It is Monday…’ I said slowly and was preparing to tell her we were going to the retail park when, with
perfect timing, my phone started ringing from its perch on the dashboard. Leaving the sentence unfinished, I pulled over and answered the phone.

It was Kitty. ‘We’re going ahead,’ she said. My heart lurched. ‘Leah is here. We’ve had a chat and although she’s quite emotional, I’m sure she’ll be fine to see Alice.’

‘Thank God,’ I said, and I meant it. ‘I’ll tell Alice now.’

‘Yes, but please make sure she understands it’s only a meeting and she isn’t going home with mum.’

‘I will. Thanks. See you soon.’ I cut the phone, switched off the engine and turned in my seat to face Alice.

‘That was Kitty,’ I said, with a small smile. ‘We’re going to the family centre to see your mother. Just for an hour, like you see your Dad and Sharon, and Nana and Grandpa. Then I will come and collect you.’

Alice stared at me, her eyes growing rounder and larger by the second, as her lips parted in wonder. ‘Mummy?’ she asked quietly, not daring to believe. ‘I’m going to see my mummy?’

‘Yes, love, just for an hour. Then I’ll come and collect you,’ I emphasized.

‘Mummy?’ she asked again in the same, small, incredulous voice. ‘Why am I seeing my mummy?’

Reaching over the seat I took her hand and patted it reassuringly. I would have liked to have had time to prepare Alice for seeing her mother, but that hadn’t been possible, so I would talk to her more in the evening. ‘Mummy is well enough to see you for a little while now,’ I said. ‘She is looking forward to seeing you again.’

Alice nodded; then she turned her head and looked out of her side window. She didn’t smile, she didn’t say anything; she just sat staring out, completely overwhelmed. I turned to the front, started the engine and rejoined the traffic.

‘All right, love?’ I asked after a moment. Alice nodded.

After a few minutes her little voice came from the back. ‘Are we going to see my mummy?’ she asked, still not fully believing.

‘Yes, love, at the family centre. We’ll be there soon.’

She was silent again. For the rest of the journey she stared out of the side window, overawed and doubtless at a loss to know what she should be thinking, feeling or saying. Even when I pulled up and parked outside the family centre, she still didn’t say anything. I got out and opened the rear door; then I waited as Alice slowly climbed out. I could see her reticence, sense her anxiety at meeting her mother again after all this time and having parted in such traumatic circumstances. It was understandable. Eight months is a long time, especially in a child’s life.

‘Is Mummy better?’ Alice asked as we walked hand in hand up the path to the security door.

‘She’s getting better,’ I said. ‘Kitty and a contact supervisor will be there to help Mummy if she needs it. But from what Kitty told me Mummy is doing very well.’

I pressed the security buzzer. As we waited for the door to release Alice said: ‘I love my mummy. I hope she still loves me.’

‘She does, pet. I’m sure of it.’

We went in and my heart thumped with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, which were compounded by finding the reception empty.

‘Where is she?’ Alice asked, gripping my hand tighter as panic set in. ‘Where’s my mummy? She’s not here.’

‘I’ll find out,’ I said. I tapped on the sliding-glass partition to the office and fervently hoped that Leah was still here and hadn’t been overcome and fled since Kitty had phoned. One of the family centre workers slid open the window. ‘Alice is here to see her mother,’ I said. ‘Kitty should be here somewhere with Leah.’

She consulted a chart on her desk. ‘They’re in Red Room,’ she said. I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Are you all right to take Alice through or shall I go with you?’

‘I’ll take her,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’ With Alice gripping my hand even tighter we went along the corridor, through the double doors and over to the door with pictures of red roses and marked ‘Red Room’.

The door was closed and through the glass panel in the door I could see Kitty and the contact supervisor sitting on the sofa facing the door. On the other sofa, facing away from me, was another woman, Leah, her slight frame and ponytail suggesting someone younger than the twenty-three I knew her to be. Alice wasn’t tall enough to see through the glass panel, so she didn’t see Kitty wave for us to go in; nor did she see her mother leap from the sofa and turn to the door, her expression an indescribable mixture of expectation, pain and joy. I opened the door and Leah dropped to her knees so that she was Alice’s height, and spread her arms wide, ready to hug her daughter.

‘Mummy?’ Alice said quietly, not leaving my side. ‘Where have you been?’

‘I’m here, love. I’m sorry. I’m here now, Alice. Please forgive me.’ I looked at her and could have wept.

On hearing her mother’s voice Alice let go of my hand and rushed into her mother’s waiting arms. Leah buried her head in her daughter’s shoulder and cried openly. Alice hugged her mother as though she would never let go. I looked at Kitty and the contact supervisor, who were both dewy eyed, and I felt my own eyes mist.

‘I’ll say hello to Leah at the end,’ I mouthed to Kitty. She nodded, and I came out, leaving Alice where she should have been a long time ago: in the arms of her mother.

I drove home, sombre and deep in thought. When I went in I found Lucy and Paula waiting expectantly in the hall, having heard my car draw up. I’d told them all that morning I might not be coming straight home after collecting Alice from school, as there was a chance she would be seeing her mother; now the girls were waiting for any news.

‘Well?’ Lucy asked. ‘Did contact go ahead?’

I nodded.

‘You don’t seem very happy about it,’ Paula said.

I shrugged and took off my coat and shoes.

‘Don’t you like Alice’s mother?’ Lucy asked.

‘I didn’t speak to her, but I’m sure she’s lovely. It’s not that.’ I sighed and looked at the girls. ‘I really can’t see where all this is going to lead. It’s good that Alice is seeing her mother, but she can’t live with her. Alice’s
grandparents are likely to be considered too old to look after her long term. Alice’s father has the prosecution hanging over him, and if I’m honest I’ve never felt living with him and Sharon was right for Alice. There are no other relatives who can look after Alice, so the most likely outcome is that she will be adopted, but in my heart of hearts I can’t believe that is right for her either. The bond Alice has with her mother and grandparents is so strong I can’t see how she would ever love her adoptive parents. And if she doesn’t, the adoption will fail. I really can’t see what is best for Alice,’ I ended despondently as I had begun.

I went down the hall towards the kitchen, to make a quick cup of tea before I had to return to the family centre. Lucy and Paula followed, and then hovered, watching me carefully as I filled the kettle and set it to boil. ‘I know it’s not my decision,’ I continued, ‘but obviously we want what is best for Alice. We want her to be happy. I was asked my opinion at the family-finding meeting and I told them Alice had a strong bond with her mother and grandparents. I’ll say it again at the next family-finding meeting, which will be after the prosecution. It’s all I can do.’

The girls were quiet, understanding the dilemma. With the vast majority of the children we’d looked after, the decision as to where they eventually lived – with parents, relatives, long-term foster carers or adoptive parents – seemed right, but not here. Now, there seemed no ideal solution.

‘I feel sorry for Alice,’ Paula said at last. ‘It’s not like her family were horrible to her.’

‘No,’ Lucy agreed. ‘They were very kind to her but she can’t live with them.’

I looked at Lucy and Paula, whose faces I had made glum by sharing my concerns. ‘Don’t you two worry about it,’ I said with a brave smile. ‘I’m sure it will all turn out for the best in the end.’ Although for the life of me I couldn’t see how it would.

After a quick cup of tea I returned to the family centre to collect Alice, my thoughts now concentrating on meeting Leah and comforting Alice after she’d had to leave her mother. I waited in reception until it was exactly five o’clock; then I went to Red Room and knocked on the door before going in. Kitty and the contact supervisor were more or less as I’d left them – on the sofa facing the door – while Alice now sat beside her mother on the other sofa, listening to a story. They all looked up as I entered and Alice’s face puckered, aware what my arrival meant. I felt like a wicked witch coming to take her away.

‘It’s time to go now,’ Kitty said gently.

I smiled at Leah as I crossed to shake her hand. ‘I’m very pleased to see you.’

Leah returned my smile and, keeping one arm around Alice and the book open on her lap, shook my hand. ‘I can’t thank you enough for looking after Alice,’ she said in a small gentle voice. ‘You’ve been so kind to us.’

My heart went out to her. ‘Alice is a pleasure to look after,’ I said. ‘She’s a lovely child, and a real credit to you.’

I realized immediately it was the wrong thing to say. In Leah’s fragile and sensitive state my well-intentioned
comment touched a raw nerve. Leah’s face crumpled and she began to cry. Taking her arm from around Alice, she rummaged in her handbag for a tissue.

Kitty stood and came over. ‘Time to go now, Alice,’ she said again. ‘Say goodbye to Mummy.’

I knew saying goodbye was going to be painful but I also knew, as did Kitty and the contact supervisor, that prolonging it was only going to make it worse. Alice remained where she was, seated on the sofa and now holding on to her mother’s arm. ‘Say goodbye, Alice. Good girl,’ Kitty said as Leah wiped her eyes.

Alice shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, and began to cry.

Leah turned to her daughter and, lightly placing her hands on her shoulders, turned to her so she could look into her eyes. ‘We have to say goodbye now, love,’ she said, being incredibly brave, ‘but we’ll see each other again next week.’

Alice shook her head and clung tighter to her mother’s arm. ‘No,’ she cried. ‘I want to stay with you. Don’t make me go, Mummy. Please don’t make me go.’

Leah started crying again as she tried to open Alice’s fingers from around her arm. ‘Come on, love, give me a kiss, and say goodbye,’ she said. Alice wouldn’t. Leah kissed her daughter’s forehead. ‘Please, Alice, you have to go.’

‘No!’ Alice shrieked.

‘Come on, Alice,’ Kitty encouraged, going closer. ‘Say goodbye to your mummy.’

‘No!’ Alice shrieked again and clung on to her mother all the more.

Crying openly now, Leah looked up at Kitty and pleaded: ‘Just take her, please. I can’t bear to see her like this.’

Kitty leant forward and, opening Alice’s fingers from around her mother’s arm, quickly lifted Alice from the sofa and put her into my arms.

‘Goodbye, Alice,’ Leah called through tears. ‘See you next week. Be a good girl.’

Alice shrieked. ‘No! I want to stay!’

I carried Alice from the room, down the corridor and out of the family centre with her sobbing and thrashing her arms and legs. It was just as well Alice was slight, but even so I struggled to hold her and not drop her. I managed to open the rear door of the car and lift her into her seat. ‘I hate you,’ she shouted at me through her tears. ‘I don’t want to go home with you. I want my mummy.’

‘I know you do, love. I understand.’

I climbed into the back of the car and sat next to Alice, where I held her and tried to reassure her, as she sobbed that she wanted her mummy and hated me. After about ten minutes she was calm enough for me to wipe her face with a tissue and then fasten her seatbelt, ready for the drive home. Alice didn’t speak during the twenty-minute journey and I didn’t say anything either – I recognized she needed time to come to terms with seeing her mother and having to say goodbye.