by Cathy Glass
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ I reassured them. ‘Honestly. I’ll mention it to Jill, but she’ll say the same, and the woman’s gone now.’
‘Is it Harrison’s mother?’ Adrian suddenly asked.
‘What makes you say that?’ I asked surprised.
‘She looks like Harrison,’ Adrian said. ‘I saw her face when I first opened the door, when she didn’t know I was watching, and their faces are similar.’
‘I’m not sure,’ I said, which was true. For while Adrian might have had a good look at her face to see a likeness, I hadn’t, and I wasn’t going to fuel Adrian’s imagination by making links where there might be none. Also, I wasn’t concerned for our safety at that time; the woman hadn’t shown us any aggression – indeed she’d always fled when she saw us. So I reassured the children that there was nothing to worry about and we continued into the car and to the supermarket.
I didn’t consider this third sighting of the woman in our street to be an emergency or even urgent, so I didn’t phone the out-of-hours cover at the fostering agency over the weekend. I waited until Monday to phone the office and then I was surprised by Jill’s reaction.
‘Not again!’ she said. ‘I’ll phone Cheryl straightaway and find out what’s going on. We’ll also raise the matter at the LAC review. This is not acceptable.’
‘There wasn’t a problem,’ I said, a little bemused. ‘The woman ran off as soon as she saw me. I just thought you should know.’
‘You did right. It’s not fair on you or the kids. Who knows what frame of mind Rihanna is in? If Cheryl hasn’t had a reply from Rihanna’s solicitor about this then she needs to be chasing it up. I’ll phone Cheryl now and get back to you.’
‘All right. Thank you, Jill,’ I said, but I was now worried by the seriousness with which she was taking this sighting.
Jill phoned back later on Monday afternoon, having spoken twice to Cheryl. In between Cheryl had phoned Rihanna’s solicitor, who’d said Rihanna hadn’t been in touch with her for nearly three weeks. The solicitor said she had left two messages on Rihanna’s voicemail but as Rihanna hadn’t returned the calls she had assumed she must be away. The solicitor said she’d phone Cheryl as soon as she’d spoken to Rihanna and had ascertained if it was her client we had seen in the vicinity of my house.
‘Sorry,’ Jill said as she finished. ‘I’ve done what I can but it’s not satisfactory. Cheryl said she’d phone me as soon as she heard from the solicitor, and I said we’ll also raise it at the LAC review on Wednesday.’
‘Thanks, Jill,’ I said again. ‘See you Wednesday.’
We said goodbye and hung up, and I continued with Monday, still feeling that Jill might have over-reacted, but aware that as my support social worker she had my family and my best interests at heart. However, the following morning – Tuesday – something happened which forced me to acknowledge that Jill had been right to be concerned. At 7.45 a.m., before the children were up, I opened the front door to bring in the milk and had the shock of my life. As I glanced up I saw the woman on the pavement right outside my front gate. I started and she did, presumably not expecting the door to open so early; then she turned and fled up the road.
I ran the few steps up the garden path and on to the pavement, but the woman was already halfway up the street and disappearing fast. It crossed my mind to run after her, but I couldn’t leave the children alone in the house, and was it really the wise thing to do? Although I’d previously felt she meant me no harm, now I couldn’t be certain. She’d been close enough for me to see the likeness Adrian had seen, and I now knew for certain it was Harrison’s mother. And if she wasn’t away, as her solicitor had said, why wasn’t she returning her solicitor’s phone calls?
With my heart racing I returned inside the house and shut the front door. Adrian and Paula were still asleep, fortunately, and I wouldn’t be telling them I’d seen her. It would unnerve them, as it had me. I went through to the kitchen and continued as best I could with my normal early morning routine: I fed Toscha; I filled the kettle for coffee; I loaded the washing machine; and then when the children came downstairs I made them breakfast as usual.
As soon as Homefinders’ office opened, at nine o’clock, I left the children finishing their breakfasts and went into the sitting room and phoned. A colleague of Jill’s answered.
‘Could I speak to Jill, please?’ I said, keeping my voice even.
‘I’ll put you straight through.’
‘Is everything all right?’ Jill asked, as soon as she answered.
‘No. Not really.’ I paused and lowered my voice so that the children couldn’t hear me. ‘The woman was outside my house again – right outside, by the gate, at seven forty-five this morning. I’m sure it was Harrison’s mother.’
‘How can you be certain? I thought she was away.’
‘Harrison is the image of his mother. He has the same nose and eyes. I’m positive it was her.’
‘Did she approach you? Or say anything?’ Jill asked, concerned.
‘No. As soon as she saw me she ran off. She looked scared but not half as scared as I was. It gave me a dreadful shock.’
Jill paused in thought and then said, ‘Cathy, let me speak to Cheryl and then I’ll get back to you. Are you in today or shall I phone your mobile?’
‘I’ll be in this morning. Then I thought we’d go out this afternoon.’
‘OK, I’ll try to get back to you this morning; otherwise I’ll phone your mobile later. And Cathy, if she appears again today call the police. Explain you’re a foster carer and there’s a woman loitering in the street outside your house, and let them deal with it.’
‘All right, but hopefully it won’t come to that.’
‘Hopefully, but don’t take any chances. We don’t know what’s going on here.’
I was on edge all morning. I kept going into the front room and peering out from behind the net curtains to check the street, but there was no sign of her. I was pleased; I didn’t want Adrian and Paula upset, or to involve the police unless it was absolutely necessary. In the afternoon when we left the house to walk to the park I was vigilant; likewise when we returned to the house later in the afternoon I kept a lookout, but the street was clear. Jill hadn’t phoned back, although I’d repeatedly checked my mobile while we’d been in the park. It wasn’t until the children and I were having dinner at six o’clock that the phone rang.
‘You two stay at the table and finish your meal,’ I said to Adrian and Paula as I stood. ‘And keep an eye on Harrison for me, please.’
I went into the sitting room and picked up the handset.
‘Sorry I didn’t phone sooner,’ Jill said. ‘I’ve been waiting for Cheryl to get back to me.’ Jill paused and took a deep breath, as though she had a lot to tell me and was slightly stressed. ‘Rihanna’s solicitor has finally managed to speak to Rihanna,’ Jill began. ‘It was Rihanna who was outside your house. And not just the few times you’ve seen her; she’s been there at other times as well – over a number of weeks. I don’t know how many exactly, but it was certainly her.’
‘She admitted it?’ I asked, immediately concerned.
‘Yes. However, Rihanna has told her solicitor that she promises she won’t do it again. She just wanted a glimpse of Harrison to make sure he was being well looked after. She asked her solicitor to tell you that she was sorry she scared you this morning. She hopes you understand she didn’t mean any harm but it’s been difficult for her. She thought that seeing Harrison and the people who were looking after him might help her. Cheryl did remind her solicitor that Rihanna could have contact with Harrison until he’s adopted but Rihanna is still saying she couldn’t cope. She also asked her solicitor to thank you for looking after Harrison, and for dressing him in the clothes she bought. She said it means a lot to her.’
‘Oh, Jill!’ I exclaimed, a lump rising in my throat. ‘This is so upsetting. Why ever is Rihanna having to give up her son? She seems a lovely person and obviously cares a lot
for Harrison. I just don’t understand it.’
‘Neither do I,’ Jill said. ‘You have all the information I have. I’m not holding anything back.’
‘I know you’re not,’ I said with a sigh.
‘I’m afraid we just have to accept what we’re told, and I hope that once the adoption is finalized Rihanna will be able to move on with her life. Cheryl suggested again to Rihanna’s solicitor that it might help Rihanna if she had some photographs of Harrison and Rihanna has now agreed to this.’
‘Good,’ I said.
‘Cathy, I know you’ve got to give Viera some photos for the adoption profile, but have you a few more you could give to Cheryl at the review tomorrow so she can pass them on?’
‘Yes, I’ve got plenty. I’ll sort out some ready.’
‘Thanks. Well, at least we have an explanation for the woman in the street, and hopefully that will be the end of it.’
‘Yes,’ I said, subdued.
That evening while the house was quiet and the children slept I sat on the sofa, surrounded by all the photographs I’d taken of Harrison, and tried to decide which ones to give to Cheryl to pass to his mother. It was proving very difficult, as Harrison looked lovely in all of them and there were over thirty photographs. The pictures showed Harrison in his pram, bouncing cradle and cot (the cuddly toys Rihanna had packed for him visible at the foot of the cot), at home, in the garden, in the park, on the beach, on my lap, on the sofa – in fact I’d captured Harrison on camera everywhere he’d been. The photos also showed him awake, asleep, laughing, waving his arms, wrinkling his nose, having his bottle; and always dressed smartly in the clothes his mother had sent. As well as being for myself to keep and for Harrison’s Life Story book, so that he and his adoptive family would be able to share the first year of his life when they hadn’t been together, the pictures would now also give Harrison’s mother a window into Harrison’s first year. And they would probably be the only photographs she would have of him for very rarely do adoptive parents send photographs of the child to the natural mother.
I continued to look through the photographs and, still unable to decide which ones to select for Rihanna, I decided to send the whole set. I’d already taken out some for Viera for the adoption profile and I could have another set printed for me and to go in his Life Story book. Yet as I tucked the photographs into the envelope ready to give to Cheryl at the review meeting I wondered how Rihanna would feel when she saw the pictures of Harrison. Would it really help her to come to terms with losing her baby, as Cheryl had said? Or would looking at pictures of her darling little boy keep the wound open for longer? I tried to imagine how I would feel in her position but the thought of having to give up Adrian or Paula and rely on photographs was beyond my comprehension.
Chapter Seventeen
Information Sharing
The following morning I prepared for the LAC review, which was to be held in my house. After I’d cleared away the breakfast dishes and cleaned and tidied the kitchen, I vacuumed and tidied the rest of the downstairs of the house; gave the toilet an extra clean; took my fostering folder and pen from the front room into the sitting room; laid out activities for Adrian and Paula to do at the kitchen table; filled the kettle; arranged biscuits on a plate; gave Harrison his bottle; and then settled him in his bouncing cradle in the sitting room. I was now ready.
Jill arrived first at 10.50 and was in very good spirits. ‘Hi! How’s my favourite foster carer?’ she said, greeting me with a big smile at the door.
‘Very good,’ I said, aware that Jill called all her foster carers ‘my favourite’. ‘Come in. You look happy.’
‘I am. I’ve just been promoted. I’m a senior practitioner now.’
‘Well done,’ I said. ‘Congratulations. You deserve it.’ Jill was an excellent support social worker who did far more than her contract required.
‘Thanks, Cathy. I’m pleased.’
Jill knew the layout of my house (from all her previous visits) and she also knew that if there was a meeting scheduled and the children were not at school then they would be settled at the kitchen table with plenty of activities. She went down the hall and into the kitchen. ‘Hi, kids!’ she said, entering. ‘How are you? Enjoying the school holidays?’
‘Yep!’ Adrian said.
‘I like school,’ Paula said, ‘but I like being home better.’
‘That’s how it should be,’ Jill said, and I agreed.
‘Coffee?’ I asked Jill.
‘Please. Where’s the little fellow?’
‘Waiting for you in the sitting room,’ I said.
Jill immediately disappeared and a moment later we heard weird and wonderful baby-talk noises coming from the sitting room: ‘Coochicoo. Who’s Jill’s cutikams? Who’s a clever little smookams? Harry’s not ready for sleepbize yet, are you?’ The last of which we understood. Adrian sniggered and Paula laughed out loud.
I took Jill’s coffee and a plate of biscuits into the sitting room, where Jill was kneeling in front of Harrison in his bouncing cradle, ticking his little feet through his socks, while baby-talking to him. Harrison was enjoying the attention and when Jill stopped to take a sip of her coffee he looked as though he was going to cry.
The doorbell rang, so leaving Jill entertaining Harrison I went to answer it. Cheryl was with a man I hadn’t met before. ‘I’m Tom Gray, the reviewing officer,’ he said, offering his hand for shaking. The independent chairperson is also known as the reviewing officer at a LAC review.
I showed Cheryl and Tom through to the sitting room and offered them coffee, which they both accepted. Leaving Tom Gray introducing himself to Jill, I went into the kitchen and made coffee for them and for me. I also poured a glass of juice each for Adrian and Paula, which I placed on the table at which they were working, together with the biscuit tin. ‘No more than two biscuits each,’ I reminded them. Then added: ‘I’m going to close the sitting-room door but if you need me call or knock on the door.’ Adrian and Paula knew the importance of the meetings we had at home and they knew they weren’t to interrupt unless it was urgent.
In the sitting room Tom and Cheryl were seated on the sofa. I passed them their coffees and then offered the sugar, which they both refused.
‘Are we expecting anyone else?’ Tom asked, taking a sip of his coffee and then opening a large black notebook on his lap.
‘No,’ Cheryl said. ‘Viera from the adoption team sends her apologies. She’s on annual leave so I will give her report. The health visitor was invited but she’s on holiday too. Cathy will be able to update us on Harrison’s health and development.’
Tom made a note of the apologies for absence, and Jill finally rose from the floor and sat on the chair nearest to Harrison’s bouncing cradle where she tucked her foot under the rim so that she could still rock him. I sat in the remaining chair.
‘And Mother?’ Tom asked, glancing sideways at Cheryl. ‘Is Harrison’s mother coming?’
‘No,’ Cheryl said. ‘An invitation was sent to her through her solicitor but Rihanna won’t be coming.’
The reviewing officer made a note of this and then opened the meeting with introductions, and said this was the first review for Harrison Smith. I was wondering what Cheryl would say about Harrison’s background when she was asked to give her report, for the first LAC review would normally cover the reasons the child had been brought into care. Following the format of the previous reviews I’d attended, I, as the child’s foster carer, was asked to speak first, and I gave an update on Harrison, very similar to the one I’d given at the planning meeting the week before, covering his arrival from hospital, routine, health and development. This took about ten minutes and I then handed the red book to Tom so that he could verify what I’d said and make a note of Harrison’s weight. Tom then asked Jill to give her report and she stated her title and role – support social worker to me – and then confirmed what I’d said about Harrison’s health and development, and that he was doing well. Tom thanked her and
then looked at Cheryl.
‘Would you like to give your report and then the report from the adoption team?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Cheryl began, and I listened hard. She also had Jill’s complete attention too. ‘Harrison is in care under a Section 20. His mother, Rihanna, is single and cannot look after him. She made the decision to place her baby for adoption early on in her pregnancy, and she has been working with the department to allow us to facilitate this. We have her complete cooperation, although since the birth of Harrison all communication has been through her solicitor.’
‘Why is all communication through her solicitor?’ Tom asked, glancing up from writing. The reviewing officer is independent of the social services and relies on the social services for his information.
‘It’s at the mother’s request,’ Cheryl said.
Tom nodded and wrote as Cheryl continued: ‘Although I haven’t seen Rihanna since just before the birth, our legal department is in contact with her solicitor. I spoke to the solicitor personally yesterday – on another matter – and Rihanna is happy with the way the department is handling her case, and the progress we are making in finding a suitable adoptive family for Harrison.’
‘I can’t imagine the mother is “happy” at giving up her child,’ Tom said dryly without looking up from writing. ‘Perhaps “satisfied” with the department’s progress would be a better word.’
‘Yes,’ Cheryl agreed quickly, slightly embarrassed by the reviewing officer’s criticism.
‘We’ll hear about the progress of the adoption in a minute,’ Tom said. ‘I need to know more about the mother first. How old is she?’
I saw Cheryl hesitate before answering. ‘Thirty-five,’ Cheryl said. Which was new information for Jill and me and I caught Jill’s gaze.
‘So she’s not a teenage mother, then?’ Tom said to Cheryl, having assumed as I had initially that this was the most likely reason.
