I Miss Mummy (9 page)

T
he first thing Alice said when she woke on Wednesday morning was: ‘Am I seeing Nana and Grandpa today?’

‘Yes, you are, love,’ I was finally able to say. ‘This afternoon.’

I knew how long her wait had been – twelve days since she’d come into care, plus the three days before that when Alice had been missing with her mother. And the waiting, the gap in Alice’s life, seemed to have been highlighted by the regular contact she’d been having with her father and Sharon. When I’d taken Alice to the family centre the day before to see her father, Alice had asked: ‘Why do I have to keep seeing him, and not Mummy or Nana?’

I’d explained to Alice that Mummy wasn’t well enough at present, and then I’d had to rely on ‘You’ll see Nana and Grandpa tomorrow,’ for I didn’t know
why
Alice hadn’t been allowed to see her grandparents sooner. There was still no sign of the new social worker, and Jill was still chasing up the paperwork.

Now, as I arrived in the playground at 1.30 p.m. to collect Alice from nursery and take her to contact, her face was pure joy. She was looking out for me and as soon as she spotted me she ran over.

‘She’s talked about nothing else all morning,’ the playground supervisor said, also coming over. ‘Please give Mr and Mrs Jones my best wishes. They’re a lovely couple.’

‘You know them?’ I asked, slightly surprised, as Alice tugged on my arm, eager to go.

‘Only from them bringing Alice to nursery. They must be devastated by all this. They adore Alice.’

I nodded. ‘I’ll pass on your best wishes,’ I said with a smile, and came away.

In the car, during the twenty-minute journey to the family centre, Alice talked excitedly, non-stop, of all the things she was going to tell her nana and grandpa when she saw them: about her nursery, friends, teacher, me, her bedroom, Adrian, Lucy and Paula, and our cat, Toscha. But as I parked outside the family centre and cut the engine she suddenly fell silent.

‘Don’t worry, love,’ I said, guessing that nerves had got the better of her. ‘Nana and Grandpa will be feeling a bit strange too. It will be fine once we’re inside and you’ve all met again.’

‘That’s Grandpa’s car,’ Alice said, pointing to a grey Ford Fiesta, as we walked across the car park, so I knew Mr and Mrs Jones were already inside waiting for us.

I’m often nervous meeting a child’s parents or relatives for the first time, wondering if they will be friendly or
hostile, critical or appreciative, and if they will take to me, but now I felt unusually calm. Having spoken to Alice’s grandparents on the phone and having heard Alice talk about them so lovingly, I had no concerns about meeting them; I just felt utter relief that Alice was finally seeing them, and they her.

Alice slipped her hand into mine as I opened the gate, and we walked up the short path to the door, where I pressed the bell and the security lock released. As soon as the door sprang open and we were inside we saw them, standing side by side watching the door, waiting for us to arrive. Alice immediately dropped my hand and rushed into their waiting arms, hugging them for all she was worth. First her nana, then her grandpa, then her nana again as Mr Jones, overcome with emotion, moved to one side to wipe his eyes. Mrs Jones clutched Alice to her as though she would never let her go and allowed her tears to fall freely.

‘Oh, Alice,’ she said over and over again, in her warm Yorkshire accent. ‘Oh, Alice, my love. Grandpa and I have missed you so much.’

‘I’ve missed you,’ Alice said in a muffled voice, her head buried in her nana’s shoulder.

After a while Mrs Jones moved Alice slightly away from her. ‘Here, let me have a look at you. I’m sure you’ve grown a good inch, lass. You’re a fine strong girl.’

I smiled and remained where I was – standing to one side. I doubted Alice could have noticeably grown since Mrs Jones had last seen her, but clearly Alice’s growing was something her nana and she talked about, as many grandparents do.

Alice grinned. ‘I’ve been eating all my meals, so I grow into a big strong girl,’ she said proudly.

‘I can see that,’ Mrs Jones said, and I saw her face crumple again.

Alice then slipped one hand into her nana’s and the other into her grandpa’s, and just stood looking at them, as though she daren’t believe they were actually real, and thought that they might at any moment disappear. The contact supervisor had appeared from the office and was hovering by my side, ready to accompany Alice and her grandparents to the room they would use for the hour’s contact.

‘I’ll just say hello, and then I’ll come back and collect Alice later,’ I said to the supervisor.

Mr Jones looked over and stepped forward to greet me. ‘Martin Jones,’ he said, taking my hand warmly between both of his. ‘You must be Cathy.’

I smiled. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘This is my wife, Janice,’ he said, transferring my hand to hers. She shook my hand warmly and I felt her love and security as Alice had.

‘Hello, Cathy,’ she said, her cheeks moist. ‘God bless you, dear.’

They appeared a lovely couple, just as they had seemed on the phone, and I immediately took to them. They had open, honest faces, and I suspected in other circumstances laughed a lot. Mr Jones was about four inches taller than his wife, and his grey hair was streaked with white. They were everyone’s idea of the perfect grandparents – warm, loving, embracing of others and completely unassuming. If they’d had my
sympathy before we’d met, my heart now ached for them. They had only one hour with their cherished granddaughter, and then a two-week wait for the next hour.

Aware their contact time was ticking away, I said: ‘I won’t keep you now. Spend your time with Alice, and I’ll see you again when I collect her.’

The contact supervisor stepped forward and, smiling, led the way along the corridor as I called goodbye to Alice, but she was so engrossed in telling her dear nana and grandpa all her news, unsurprisingly she didn’t hear me.

Having met Alice’s grandparents, albeit briefly, all my worries and doubts as to why Alice had been uprooted and brought into care, instead of being allowed to stay with them, resurfaced. It’s none of your business, I told myself sternly as I opened the car door and left reception. You are the foster carer, you look after the child; the rest need not concern you. But without any real background information – apart from what Martha had said, which hadn’t been much – it was very difficult for me to see that Alice had been in danger of significant harm from her grandparents or that their parenting had fallen below an acceptable standard, which criteria are needed to bring a child into care.

Yes, I appreciated that Alice couldn’t live with her mother, but for the life of me I couldn’t see why she hadn’t been allowed to stay with her grandparents, which was surely the next best option. I remembered Martha had said that the social services had thought the
grandparents were in ‘cahoots’ with Leah, as they hadn’t been entirely honest. I now guessed, from what Mrs Jones had told me on the phone, that this had resulted from Mr and Mrs Jones allowing Leah to see Alice and spending Christmas together. But that was hardly a good-enough reason for bringing a child into care. Sharon had said that Mr and Mrs Jones had poisoned Alice against her father, but I struggled with that too. Perhaps I was being naïve, but I just couldn’t see how Alice’s nana and grandpa could have intentionally ‘poisoned’ or misled anyone: they just didn’t seem the type.

There wasn’t enough time for me to return home before I had to collect Alice again at the end of contact so, leaving the car outside the family centre, I walked to the local shops to buy a couple of items we needed. I then returned to the car and sat inside with the radio on, gazing absently through the windscreen. If one hour went quickly for me, how much quicker it must have passed for Alice and her grandparents. Very soon the clock on the dashboard clicked up the last few minutes and the radio presenter began the three o’clock news. I switched off the radio, got out and returned into the family centre.

As I entered, the receptionist looked up and smiled at me. Opening the glass partition she said, ‘They’re in Yellow Room. It’s time. You can go straight in.’

Crossing reception I pushed open the swing doors and went along the short corridor to the yellow-painted door, where a large sign decorated with sunflowers announced ‘Yellow Room’. Aware how painful it was
going to be for Alice and her grandparents to say goodbye, I steeled myself before knocking on the door and slowly easing it open. Alice was sitting on the sofa between her grandparents, a book open on her lap as her grandpa read the story. They all looked up and towards me as I entered.

I smiled and the supervisor said gently, ‘It’s time to go, Alice.’

It was impossible to say who looked more shocked and upset as the supervisor’s words slowly registered and the three of them realized that their hour together had ended. Alice stared wide eyed at her nana and grandpa, hoping against hope that it wasn’t true, while Janice and Martin Jones, too engrossed in Alice to notice time ticking by on the clock on the wall, looked horrified.

Mr Jones came to first and, clearing his throat, said in a small voice: ‘I guess we’d better be saving the rest of this story for next time, Alice.’

Alice looked at him. ‘Why?’ she asked innocently.

‘Because it’s time for you to go with Cathy,’ Mr Jones said gently, closing the book.

Although Alice had had the experience of contact ending at a set time with her father and Sharon, she clearly hadn’t realized the same would happen with her grandparents, although I’d explained. Or possibly, and more likely, Alice had simply blanked it from her mind, the thought of having to say goodbye being too painful.

‘But I want to go home with you,’ she said to her grandpa, desperation creeping into her voice and her face puckering. ‘I want to stay with you and Nana.’ She snuggled closer into his side.

‘I know you do, love,’ he said gently. ‘But it’s not possible at present. I want you to be a big girl and go home with Cathy.’ He took the book from Alice’s lap as Mrs Jones sat motionless on the other side of Alice, too upset to say or do anything.

‘Come on, Alice,’ the supervisor said gently, going over to the sofa. ‘You’ll see Nana and Grandpa again next week.’

‘The week after next,’ I corrected. ‘Alice is seeing her grandparents every other week.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ the supervisor said, flustered. I could tell from her expression that she thought, as I did, that an hour every two weeks wasn’t enough, which was why she’d assumed contact was weekly.

‘We’ll phone on Saturday,’ I said encouragingly to Alice, trying to sound as positive as I could. But I knew this was small recompense for Alice having to leave her cherished nana and grandpa and then not see them again for another two weeks.

‘No,’ Alice said bluntly, her face setting. ‘I want to stay with them.’ She grabbed hold of her grandpa’s arm and clung to him for dear life.

The contact supervisor knelt in front of the sofa so that she was at Alice’s height and, resting a hand on Alice’s knee, began talking to her gently. ‘Come on, Alice, Nana and Grandpa have to go now. Cathy is here. It will be your dinnertime soon. What are you having for dinner?’ and so on. She continued for a good five minutes, trying to persuade Alice to let go of her grandpa, say goodbye and come away with me. Mr and Mrs Jones sat either side of Alice, offering little reassurances and persuasions of their own, while all the time fighting back their tears.
Eventually the supervisor stood and looked at me. ‘I think you’re just going to have to take her,’ she said.

I nodded and felt my stomach churn. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to take a child screaming from contact, but it didn’t make it any easier. ‘I’m sorry, love,’ I said to Alice, ‘we really do have to go now. Can you be a big brave girl and say goodbye to Nana and Grandpa?’

Alice shook her head and buried herself deeper into her grandpa’s side. I knew the longer I left it the worse it would be for everyone. I leant forward and reached between her grandparents; then, putting my arms around Alice’s waist, I began to draw her to me. She clung tighter to her grandpa’s arm and screamed. Mrs Jones stood up from the sofa and moved away, unable to watch Alice’s distress.

‘It’s all right, love,’ I tried to reassure Alice. ‘We’ll phone on Saturday.’ I slowly eased open her fingers to release her grip from around her grandpa’s shirt. Then I continued bringing her towards me, sliding her off the sofa.

Although Alice was only slight there was a lot of strength in her as, desperate to stay, she began thrashing her arms and legs. As I held her firmly to my chest the supervisor helped me to straighten. I quickly turned and carried Alice towards the door as her grandparents called tearful goodbyes behind me.

I was just through the door when I heard Mrs Jones’s voice again. ‘Cathy, wait a minute! I nearly forgot.’

I paused, wondering what Mrs Jones wanted, and concerned that delaying our departure was only going to upset Alice even further. She was still struggling in
my arms, trying to break free and sobbing her heart out. I held on to Alice as Mrs Jones came over carrying a small carrier bag, which she hooked over my arm. ‘It’s the chutney,’ she said, through her tears. ‘Alice wanted my home-made chutney. She mustn’t go without that.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. Then to Alice: ‘Look! We’ve got some of your nana’s chutney.’ But Alice was in a very sad and dark place and not even the promise of Nana’s home-made chutney could lighten her mood. ‘She’ll be fine once we’re home,’ I reassured Mrs Jones over Alice’s sobs, but I could see Mrs Jones was unconvinced.

There was nothing to be gained by prolonging the agony so, saying a quick goodbye, I came away, with Alice still struggling in my arms and her screams ringing in the air. I settled her into her seat in the car and sat beside her until she was calm enough for me to drive home. Alice was quiet but the tears had stopped and I periodically glanced in the interior mirror to check on her as I drove.

Adrian, Lucy and Paula had just returned home from school when we arrived, so there was a lot going on and plenty to occupy and distract Alice. By dinnertime she had more or less recovered, although she was still quieter than usual. However, I knew that while Alice had recovered, Mr and Mrs Jones, alone again, were likely to still be devastated and plagued by the last sight of Alice being carried screaming from the family centre. I wanted to reassure them, but our next telephone contact wasn’t until Saturday – four days away.