Another Forgotten Child

by Cathy Glass

  I smiled. Despite my anger at her mother’s lies, I was happy for Aimee. This was what fostering was all about – seeing a child’s delight at some achievement you have helped them with.

  ‘Fantastic,’ I said. ‘That’s wonderful. Well done. I want you to tell me all about your new friends in the car on the way to contact.’

  ‘I will,’ Aimee said. And as we crossed the playground she slipped her hand into mine. It was the first display of affection she’d ever shown towards me, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Problem Family

  I thought Susan would be pleased to hear Aimee’s news – that she’d made friends at school. I thought it might put her in a good mood, so that at the end of contact she might be a bit more pleasant and, if she didn’t want to talk to me civilly, she might at least ignore me. But no, when I collected Aimee at 5.30 p.m. and Susan came with Aimee into reception she was as angry and aggressive as she always was.

  ‘Look at the state of her top,’ she began as soon as she saw me, pointing to Aimee’s school sweatshirt. I could see the sweatshirt had a generous smearing of what looked like chocolate all down the front, some of which was also on Aimee’s face. ‘If I’d sent her to school like that,’ Susan continued, ‘I’d have had the social services on to me. So don’t think you’re getting away with it. I’ll report you first thing tomorrow!’

  Aimee hadn’t gone to school in a dirty sweatshirt and indeed she hadn’t gone into contact with one either, so the mess must have resulted from the chocolate Susan had given Aimee at contact. But I knew there was nothing to be gained from pointing this out to Susan so, trying to pacify her, I said lightly, ‘Don’t worry. It will wash out.’ While the contact supervisor as usual said nothing.

  ‘And what about those bruises on her legs?’ Susan now demanded. ‘How did she get those?’ Aimee was wearing school trousers and Susan rolled up the right leg to reveal a small bruise on Aimee’s shin, just like the bruises many children have from playing.

  ‘I expect she fell while she was in the playground,’ I said. ‘Did Aimee tell you she’d made some friends?’

  ‘She always had friends,’ Susan snapped, and I wondered if it was this that had riled her. Perhaps Susan was jealous that Aimee had achieved something with me that she hadn’t achieved with her mother. But I thought it was best to let this comment go, as I did her other negative comments, and not react. Susan continued with her list of what was wrong with Aimee’s appearance, diet, and how I looked after her, most of which I’d heard before, while I stood patiently by and told myself Susan probably couldn’t help it, and I should feel sorry for her, until she got to her last comment, when I finally blew.

  ‘And tell your son and his mates to keep their hands off Aimee,’ she said.

  My pulse soared as my anger rose. ‘I beg your pardon?’ I demanded. ‘How dare you!’

  ‘Letting your boys smooch my little girl,’ Susan continued. ‘I’ve told the social services and they’ll have you.’

  I was so furious I didn’t know whether to cry or hit her. ‘I really don’t understand you!’ I blazed. ‘I’ve tried working with you but you’re impossible. Little wonder you’ve lost all your kids into care! I’m not having anything more to do with you, or your malicious lies. I’ll be waiting in the car,’ I said to the contact supervisor.

  Trembling and with my cheeks hot and red I turned and, yanking open the outer door, let myself out. I went quickly down the path and to my car, where I got in and slammed the door. I stared, unseeing, through the front windscreen, my heart racing and my hands clenched in my lap. I was fuming. How dare she! How dare she say that about Adrian and his friends! I could and would have said a lot more to her had Aimee not been present. I’d dealt with difficult parents before but Susan was the extreme. As I sat there, seething and upset, a decision formed itself in my thoughts and was made. My family and I were in danger from Susan’s lies, I’d had enough, and I wouldn’t take any more. I didn’t want to repeat what the carers of Susan’s older children had done and give notice and have the child moved, but I would if necessary. I decided I would tell the social services that they’d have to find another foster carer to look after Aimee unless two assurances were made: one, that Susan retracted all her comments about Adrian and his friends, and two, that I never had to meet Susan again.

  Having reached that decision I started to calm down. I felt sorry for Aimee but I had to think of my own family. I continued to wait in the car, playing through the various scenarios that might result from my decision. About ten minutes passed before the contact supervisor appeared from the centre with Aimee. Susan must have stayed inside. I got out, opened the rear door so that Aimee could climb in and then closed it again after her.

  ‘I’ll have to make a note of your comments in my report,’ the contact supervisor said, as though I was the guilty party.

  ‘Fine,’ I said curtly. ‘I’ll be including what happened in my report too.’

  Irritated by the contact supervisor’s lack of support and attitude, I said an equally curt goodbye and climbed into the car. The contact supervisor returned into the centre and presumably to Susan. It had almost become a ‘them and us’ situation, with Susan and the supervisor on one side and me on the other.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked, turning to look at Aimee. Having fastened her seatbelt she was sitting very quiet and still – unusually quiet for after contact.

  She nodded. ‘Are you all right?’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen you angry before.’

  ‘No, well, it takes a lot, but I’m very protective of all my children, including you. I won’t have malicious lies made up about any of them.’

  ‘I didn’t say anything to Mum about Adrian,’ Aimee said defensively.

  ‘Good.’ And I left it at that. Whether or not Aimee had fuelled her mother’s anger during contact I didn’t know, but there was nothing to be gained by pursuing it. Aimee was a confused and vulnerable eight-year-old while her mother was an adult and should have known better.

  I drove home deep in thought while Aimee quickly regained her usual composure and told me all about the friends she’d made at school and the games they’d played in the playground. I was pleased for her, although my pleasure was tempered by what I knew I had to say to Jill and the social services.

  That evening, once I had read Aimee a bedtime story and she was in bed, I went downstairs and turned on the computer. Opening a fresh email, I began compiling what I needed to say to Jill. I’d been thinking about it all evening yet the words didn’t come easily. It was nearly 9.30 before I was satisfied with what I’d written and pressed ‘send’.

  Dear Jill

  As you know Susan has made serious allegations against Adrian and his two friends, which of course are lies. Susan repeated the allegations tonight at the end of contact in front of Aimee, which made me angry. I said things to Susan I shouldn’t have done but I’ve tried to work with her and it’s impossible. I now have to think of my family. While I do not want to give up on Aimee I can see no alternative but to terminate Aimee’s placement unless Susan retracts her allegations immediately. If she does and Aimee stays with me I want an undertaking that I will not have to come into contact with Susan again until she can speak to me civilly. As you will appreciate, I’ve put a lot of thought into this decision. I think this is reasonable. Thank you.

  Kind regards

  Cathy

  I went to bed with thoughts of Susan and her evil manipulative ways going through my head. I knew Jill would phone me as soon as she read my email in the morning, and I hoped she knew me well enough to appreciate that I hadn’t taken these steps lightly. I’d been pushed into this position by Susan, and I guessed this was how the foster carers of her older children must have felt when their children had to be moved. It was a pity that with Susan’s history of disrupting placements, more hadn’t been done to protect me from the start, especially at contact. But I had the feeling that the conta
ct supervisors were afraid of Susan and went out of their way to keep on the right side of her, which was why her angry outbursts and insulting behaviour had been left unchecked.

  The following morning Aimee was in a bad mood and took a long while to get out of bed and dress. Once downstairs she demanded biscuits for breakfast and when I told her she could have one biscuit after she’d eaten her proper breakfast she stamped her foot, folded her arms angrily across her chest and glared at me spitefully, saying, ‘If you don’t give me biscuits, I’ll tell me mum!’

  I paused from rinsing out a cup. ‘And what good do you think that will do, Aimee?’

  ‘I’ll be moved from here.’

  ‘And that’s what you want, is it? You want to live with other carers – strangers – and have to get to know someone new? Because if so I’ll see if it can be arranged.’ I was calling Aimee’s bluff. I guessed she was caught up in her mother’s games and was repeating what she believed her mother wanted to hear, without considering the effects a move would have on her.

  ‘My brothers and sisters were moved,’ Aimee said with less certainty.

  ‘Yes. And that made them happy, did it? To keep having to move to strangers?’

  Aimee looked at me and gave a little shrug. ‘I dunno.’

  ‘Think about it, Aimee. Think about when you tell your mother things that you know will make her angry, and think about having to keep moving. If you really want to live somewhere else, I won’t force you to stay. It would be a pity if you left us, because we like having you here, and I think underneath you are happy here with us. When I stop you from eating lots of biscuits or make you have a bath and wash you hair, or go to bed at a reasonable time, it’s because I care about you. It would be a lot easier for me to give in to your demands, but I care and I want what’s best for you.’

  Aimee was silent and appeared to be thinking about what I’d said. After a moment she unfolded her arms and, with less anger in her movements, sat at the table and began eating her wheat flakes. I went to the cupboard, took one biscuit from the tin and, going over, set it on the table beside the grapes that I’d already put there on a plate. I didn’t like giving a child a biscuit as part of breakfast but looking after Aimee was all about compromise.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said politely, without looking up. Then: ‘I don’t think I really want to leave you.’

  Immediately I felt emotion rise and would have dearly liked to reach out and hug her, but I knew she wasn’t ready for that yet. Instead I said, ‘Good, because I don’t want you to leave. Neither do Lucy or Paula.’

  ‘What about Adrian?’ Aimee asked.

  I purposely hadn’t included Adrian, as I thought the less he was mentioned at present the better.

  ‘I’m sure he would want you to stay as well,’ I said a little stiffly.

  ‘And what about his friends? Do they still like me?’

  From which I guessed Aimee knew that what she’d said to her mother had caused trouble. ‘They have no reason to dislike you,’ I said carefully.

  ‘I’m glad we’re all friends again. I’ll tell me mum,’ Aimee said, and finished the last of her cereal. But I thought that anything Aimee told her mother – regardless of how positive it was – was likely to be purposely misinterpreted by Susan and used against me.

  Each time I took Aimee to school or collected her I was on the lookout for Susan and her threatening dog, Hatchet. Although I hadn’t seen her since she’d been warned not to approach me in the street I wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t reappear, so this morning as on the previous ones I scanned the area as I parked the car and was then watchful as I took Aimee into school. As usual I waited with Aimee in the playground until the bell sounded and then I said goodbye, and was vigilant again as I returned to my car. It was nearly 9.00 as I climbed in and closed the car door, but before I’d had time to start the engine my mobile rang. Jill’s number showed on the display.

  ‘Morning, Cathy,’ she said as soon as I answered. Then, coming straight to the point: ‘I’ve read your email and I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all this. I’m going to phone the social services now, but first I wanted to find out what exactly happened last night at contact and what you said to Susan that you shouldn’t have done? Best I know beforehand.’

  I told Jill what Susan had said about Adrian and his friends. ‘Then I told Susan she was impossible to work with,’ I admitted. ‘And it was little wonder she’d lost all her kids into care. I said I wasn’t having anything more to do with her or her malicious lies, and I left the centre and waited in the car until the supervisor brought Aimee out to me.’

  ‘And that’s everything?’

  ‘Yes. Jill, I’ve had enough of her complaints, threats and anger. Accusing Adrian and his friends is the last straw.’

  ‘I understand,’ Jill said compassionately. ‘I’ll speak to the social services straightaway and get back to you. Hopefully, they’ll have appointed a new social worker to take over Aimee’s case. It will be easier than dealing with the duty social worker.’

  ‘Jill, I don’t want to give up on Aimee but I can’t continue like this.’

  ‘No, and neither should you,’ Jill said supportively.

  We said goodbye and I drove home feeling that at least Jill was on my side, but aware there shouldn’t have been ‘sides’. I knew I couldn’t continue to look after Aimee unless the situation drastically changed.

  When Jill phoned two hours later it was clear she’d been very busy.

  ‘Do you want the good or the bad news first?’ she said, trying to inject some humour into my gravity.

  ‘Good, I guess,’ I said, not sharing her enthusiasm.

  ‘You won’t be seeing Susan again before or after contact.’

  ‘Well, that’s something,’ I said, and my spirits lifted slightly.

  ‘There is an agency social worker, Beth, dealing with the case temporarily,’ Jill continued. ‘Until the authority appoints a permanent member of staff. I’ve spoken to her at some length. Although Beth doesn’t know Aimee’s case she agreed with me that you shouldn’t be put in the position you have been, and we’ve agreed these new arrangements: Susan will be in the contact room at the start of contact when you take Aimee, as I believe she has been recently, and at the end of contact you will stay in your car and the supervisor will bring Aimee out to you, while Susan remains inside the building. Beth has phoned Susan and the family centre and has explained the new arrangements. Susan wasn’t pleased but she’s been told she needs to abide by the new arrangements or else contact will be reviewed.’

  ‘Thank you, Jill,’ I said. ‘That should help. And the bad news?’

  ‘It’s not so bad really – no more than I expected. You will still have to make the telephone contact, but if Susan becomes angry and threatening on the phone, or tries to manipulate Aimee, you can end the phone call. Beth has explained to Susan what she can and cannot say to Aimee.’

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  ‘And on the matter of the allegations against Adrian and his friends,’ Jill continued, ‘Susan is refusing to retract her comments but the social services won’t be taking it any further. Beth agrees that with Susan’s history of falsifying allegations against carers this is simply troublemaking and the allegation is unfounded.’

  ‘And that will be enough to clear Adrian’s name?’ I asked. ‘I don’t want something on file that could have repercussions later.’

  ‘When a permanent social worker is appointed I’ll speak to them and make sure the information on file is correct.’

  ‘Thank you, Jill,’ I said again. ‘I feel a lot happier now.’

  ‘Good. But there is something else, which I don’t think is going to please you.’

  ‘Oh no. What?’

  ‘While I was talking to Beth I asked if she could look on the file and see if there was any news about the interview Aimee gave to DC Nicki Davies and the investigation into Craig.’

  ‘Yes? I hope he’s going to be prosecuted for child a
buse,’ I said.

  ‘Unfortunately not. It seems Aimee wasn’t at all clear when she was interviewed. There wasn’t enough evidence to make a case against Craig.’

  ‘Oh no! What about my evidence?’ I said. ‘I saw the bruises and I wrote down exactly what Aimee told me. Surely that must count?’

  ‘Has anyone from child protection phoned you?’

  ‘No.’

  Jill paused. ‘And you’re convinced Aimee was telling the truth? I mean, she’s not adverse to making up things if it suits her, is she?’

  ‘There is no doubt in my mind that Aimee was telling the truth about Craig.’

  ‘And you’d be willing to give evidence if necessary?’

  ‘Absolutely. I don’t understand why I wasn’t asked.’

  ‘OK. Let me give the social services another ring and I’ll get back to you.’

  ‘Thanks, Jill. You know I’ll do whatever it takes to bring Craig to justice. Aimee was brave enough to tell me what he’d done and she needs to see her abuser brought to justice. Otherwise it gives her the message that adults can treat children how they wish.’

  ‘I know. I’ll get back to you.’

  As I put the phone down I wondered why no one had asked me for my evidence and also if Aimee would have given a better – clearer – interview if I’d been present. Although I appreciated DC Nicki Davies was trained in child interview techniques, perhaps having me in the room, or waiting outside the room, might have given Aimee that extra confidence to detail Craig’s abuse coherently. Children often find situations intimidating that adults would have little problem with.

  When the landline rang an hour later I was expecting Jill but was surprised to hear a female say: ‘This is DC Nicki Davies. Is that Cathy Glass?’

  ‘Yes. Hello.’

  ‘I’ve just had a phone call from the social services about the allegations Aimee made against Craig. You’re Aimee’s foster carer?’

  ‘Yes.’