by Cathy Glass
‘Why?’ I asked, shocked.
‘Mum believes it’s her fault all this has happened, although I keep telling her it’s not. The social worker asked a lot of questions around why we hadn’t sought medical help for Laura sooner. We tried to explain that we thought Laura would get better like she had last time, after having Kim, but the social worker said her symptoms were less severe then, and even so her recovery had taken almost a year. She said she had concerns that if Liam and Laura came home and Laura needed help we would “cover it up again”. That was the term she used. Mum took it personally. Granted, she didn’t want people to know, but she thought she was doing what was best. And the way the social worker was talking it sounded as though Laura and Liam might not come home – well, not in the short term at least. She has to complete an assessment first.’
‘An assessment is normal practice,’ I offered, trying to reassure Andy, for although he was calm he was clearly very worried.
‘That’s what the social worker said,’ Andy replied, digging his hands into his pockets. ‘She asked who would be the main caregiver when Laura and Liam came home, as Gina would have to return home to go to work. Mum said she would be, so the social worker questioned her again about seeking appropriate help for Laura if it was needed. She implied that as Mum had hidden the seriousness of Laura’s condition before, even from me, she couldn’t be trusted to get help if Laura needed it in the future. That made Mum cry.’
‘Poor Geraldine. It sounds as though it wasn’t put very well at all.’
‘The social worker did apologize. She said she hadn’t meant to upset Mum, but she had to be certain Laura would receive appropriate help and support from professionals in the future if it was necessary.’ I nodded. ‘Then she started talking about concerns around Liam. She said that Laura’s medical condition had included hallucinating about the baby and this had placed him at risk. I told her Liam hadn’t ever been at risk as Mum had slept downstairs with him when things got really bad. I don’t think that helped. She wrote it down, and then she asked about the impact Laura’s illness was having on Kim, and we said Kim had been protected as much as possible.’
‘Yes, that’s very true,’ I said.
‘But as she pointed out, Kim must have seen at least some of what was going on, living in the same house. She then started talking about bonding. She said some mothers with severe postnatal depression or psychosis fail to bond properly with their children, especially if treatment is delayed. Mum was close to tears again, blaming herself, but I said Laura and Kim were very close, and she wrote that down. Then she said she wanted to see Kim this afternoon, but I said we had to do a quick turn-around to go and see Laura and Liam. So she’s going to see her on Friday after school. It seems she’s going to be talking to the school too.’
‘That’s usual,’ I said. ‘And the school will confirm what you’ve said – that Kim is a happy and well-adjusted child.’
‘I guess,’ Andy said, no less worried. ‘But the social worker said they might consider applying to the court for a supervision order, which would include Kim. If they got it, we would be monitored by the social services for up to two years. Gina had a right go at her then and said she’d be better off leaving us alone and spending her time working with families who were abusing their children instead.’
‘It sounds as though the social worker has put it all very badly,’ I said, my reassurance now sounding less effective.
Andy sighed. ‘I asked her how long she thought it would be until Laura and Liam could come home and she said she didn’t know. It would be a decision made by the mental healthcare team – of which she is a part. Gina was fuming by then and said that if it went on too long she’d bring Laura and Liam home anyway. The social worker said that although Laura was in hospital voluntarily, if she tried to discharge herself and Liam before she was considered well, the social services could apply for an order under the Mental Health Act to keep Laura in hospital and even take Liam into care. Mum was in tears again.’ He stopped.
The Klaxon had sounded while he’d been talking and now the children were streaming out. ‘Here comes Kim,’ he said. ‘Mum or Gina will tell you what I’ve forgotten.’ He set his face to a smile, ready to greet Kim, and she ran into his arms. ‘You won’t mind if we dash off,’ he said. ‘We’re going straight over to see Laura.’
‘No, of course not, you go on ahead,’ I said. ‘Give my love to Laura and try not to worry.’
He nodded stiffly, a little like his mother did, but I could see the pain behind his eyes. His family was under threat and he was very worried. So was I, from what he’d said. After I’d hugged Adrian we began home, and I thought of what Andy had said and how different his family’s experience in dealing with the social services had been compared to Shelley’s when she’d been suffering from postnatal depression. From what she’d told me her social worker had been highly sensitive, non-threatening and very supportive in getting her the help she needed. I knew Shelley’s condition had been less serious than Laura’s, but even so I felt that Laura’s social worker had been heavy-handed. Families are very fragile at times of crisis and can easily misinterpret what they’re being told, seeing a threat where there is none intended. Social workers don’t always realize the power they hold, and as a result can unintentionally scare the family, causing a lot of unnecessary worry.
Having said that, what Laura’s social worker had told them was true. By not seeking medical help for Laura sooner Andy and Geraldine had unwittingly placed Liam in danger, and of course the social worker had to be certain that if Laura and Liam came home it couldn’t happen again. The word if haunted me, as I was sure it did Andy, Gina and Geraldine. Here was a loving family who now faced the possibility of having their children taken into care and their mother sectioned under the Mental Health Act. If only they’d sought help sooner, I was sure none of this would have happened.
The following morning Gina was still seething, although she didn’t say anything until the children were in school. ‘Did you know the social services hold meetings about families without any family member being there?’ she asked, her eyes blazing.
‘Yes.’
‘It’s shocking. How do you know that what they’re saying isn’t a pack of lies? It shouldn’t be allowed.’
‘There does need to be more transparency in the system,’ I agreed.
‘Andy’s going to get some legal advice. Meetings about us that we’re not invited to! And now that bloody social worker – excuse my language – says she has to talk to Kim without us being there. We’ve tried to protect her as much as possible. How dare she?’
‘It’s normal practice, Gina,’ I said tentatively. ‘All the children in the family are usually seen by the social worker. When I’m fostering the child’s social worker always spends time alone with the child in case they want to say something they might not feel comfortable saying in front of the carer.’
‘But those are foster children who’ve been abused!’ Gina said indignantly. ‘Not one of your own who’s loved and cared for.’
‘As part of my annual review Adrian is asked what he thinks about fostering, without me being in the room,’ I said. ‘Paula will be asked, too, when she’s old enough.’
‘Little wonder they’re short of foster carers!’ Gina snapped.
‘Did she look around the house?’ I asked, on a lighter note.
‘No. She didn’t have time. She’s going to do that on Friday, after she’s seen Kim.’
‘And how was Laura when you saw her last night?’
‘All right,’ Gina said, calming down. ‘Obviously we didn’t tell her what the social worker had said, and we hid how worried we are. She asked when you and Fran could visit, so she must be feeling a bit better. I said I wasn’t sure, as you had the kids and your husband works away. It’s an hour in the car. Visiting is any time after one.’
‘Could I take Paula?’ I asked.
‘I don’t see why not.’
‘Adrian has
been invited to a friend’s for tea tomorrow,’ I said. ‘I wonder if I could visit her then. I don’t have to be back to collect Adrian until six o’clock.’
‘Give the unit a ring and check it’s OK,’ Gina said. ‘Come into the house and I’ll write down their details for you. I’ll make us a coffee as well.’
‘Thank you.’
We’d arrived outside number 53 and I explained to Paula that although we were going into baby Liam’s house he wouldn’t be there.
‘Bay-bee Lee-am, Bay-bee Lee-am,’ she said, a little disappointed.
Indoors, Gina showed us through to the living room and produced some toys for Paula to play with and then went into the kitchen to make coffee. It was strange being in Laura’s home without her and Liam. I thought how difficult it must be for Kim when she came home from school not to have her mother or brother here. She was being taken to visit them each evening, but it wasn’t the same as having your mum at home. The framed family photographs on the walls that had been there on my previous visits now seemed to underline that the family was separated. There were some smaller photographs of Laura cradling Liam propped on the mantelpiece, taken, I guessed, when Liam was a few days old – lovely pictures, but another stark reminder that they weren’t here. Through the patio windows I could see the garden, which had been Laura’s domain when she’d been well but was now starting to look unkempt. I guessed none of them had the time or inclination to tend it as Laura had done.
Gina told me a bit about Everley, the specialist mother-and-baby unit, as we talked and drank our coffee and Paula played. When I’d finished my coffee I said I needed to go as I had things to do. She wrote down the contact details of Everley and also the telephone number of their house, which I hadn’t been given before. I think Gina would have liked me to stay longer, as she admitted she worried more when she was alone in the house and often walked into the High Street just to get out. I appreciated what she meant. With Laura and Liam not there the house felt like a mausoleum, with the images of loved ones displayed but no longer present.
At home I telephoned Everley and explained to the lady who answered that I was a friend of Laura’s and would like to visit her the following afternoon, but that I would have to bring my fifteen-month-old daughter with me. She said that should be fine, but she’d need to check with Laura first. She took my name, address and telephone number and said that if I didn’t hear anything further from her to assume it was all right to go. That afternoon in the playground I told Fran I was going to visit Laura the following day and I asked if she’d like to come, but it was too short notice for her to arrange childcare for her daughter after school, so she said she’d visit another day and to send Laura her best wishes.
No one from Everley called back, so by Friday morning I assumed my visit was going ahead. I saw the mother of the friend Adrian was going to have tea with in the playground and confirmed I would collect him from her house at six o’clock. On the way home I stopped off at our local supermarket to buy a bunch of flowers for Laura. I didn’t put Paula down for her nap that morning in the hope that she would sleep in the car. An hour’s journey can be tedious for a young child and I needed to concentrate on driving and finding my way there. I made us an early lunch and explained to Paula that we were going in the car to see Liam, and she clasped her hands together in delight. ‘Bay-bee Lee-am, Bay-bee Lee-am.’ Then she ‘helped’ me pack a bag of things she would need, including a change of nappy, her trainer cup, a small snack and some of her toys. Just after twelve-thirty we set off with my notes on the route and the flowers on the passenger seat beside me. I tuned the radio to a station playing soft classical music, guaranteed to send most children off to sleep, and five minutes later Paula’s eyes had closed. She didn’t wake until I pulled into the car park at the front of Everley.
It had been an easy journey. I’d known my way to the neighbouring town and from there the hospital, in the grounds of which Everley stood, had been clearly signposted. It was a two-storey 1950s brick building, which I guessed had originally served a different purpose. Now modernized, it was surrounded by a small fenced landscaped garden.
‘We’re here,’ I said to Paula as she blinked and rubbed her eyes, still heavy with sleep.
‘Bay-bee Lee-am,’ she said, puzzled and peering out of her side window.
‘Yes, we’ve come to see baby Liam but in a different home.’
I went round and opened her car door, undid the safety harness and helped her to clamber out. I’d put the stroller in the car but we didn’t need it, as the main door was only a short walk away. With the bag looped over my shoulder, the flowers in one hand and holding Paula’s hand with the other, we went to the wooden gate where I slid the bolt. A short, paved path led to the security-locked main door and I pressed the buzzer. No one answered, so I pressed it again, and then a female voice came through: ‘Yes, can I help you?’
‘I telephoned yesterday, Cathy Glass. I’ve come to see Laura –’
‘Come in. I’ll open the door.’
The security lock released and we went in. A nurse in a uniform of a white top and navy trousers greeted us. ‘Could you sign the visitor’s book, please? Laura is in the lounge, down that corridor on the left.’
‘Thank you.’ I could smell food, so I guessed someone was cooking their lunch.
With Paula toddling beside me we went down the corridor and I knocked on the door marked LOUNGE before opening it. Laura was sitting on the sofa with Liam in a bouncing cradle at her feet. She was alone and immediately stood and came over, smiling. ‘Hello, Cathy. Thanks for coming.’ She kissed my cheek and hugged me.
‘You’re looking very well. A few flowers,’ I said, passing her the bunch. ‘They match your blouse.’
She laughed, for the deep cerise of some of the flowers in the bouquet was the same shade as her top. ‘Thank you so much. I’ll put them in my room later.’
‘This is a lovely place,’ I said, glancing round. The lounge was spacious, bright and airy, and furnished with two sofas, bean bags, scatter cushions, bookshelves and a television and sound system, which stood on a cabinet. The gaily patterned curtains matched the cushions on the sofas.
‘It’s OK,’ she said with a shrug. ‘But it’s not home. The other residents are in their rooms. I can show you my room later if you want.’
‘Yes, I’d like that.’
Paula had toddled over to where Liam sat in his bouncing cradle and was kneeling beside him, peering at him intently. He looked a bit startled.
‘Nice and gently,’ I said to her, going over.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Laura asked. ‘And I’ll find a vase for the flowers.’
‘Yes, please, if you’re making one.’
‘I need a drink. The tablets make me thirsty. Tea or coffee?’
‘I don’t mind. Whatever you’re making.’ I tensed and could have kicked myself as my thoughts flashed back to a similar scene at Laura’s home when I’d given the same reply. Then, unable to cope with making a choice between tea or coffee, Laura had gone to pieces.
But it was different now. ‘Tea then,’ she said easily. ‘Can you watch Liam while I’m in the kitchen?’
‘Yes, of course. Could Paula have some water as well, please?’ I took the trainer cup from my bag and handed it to her.
I joined Paula on the floor beside Liam where we made some weird and wonderful coochie-cooing noises. He was a gorgeous baby, round-faced with big blue eyes. He grinned and gurgled contentedly, oblivious to the rocky start he’d had in life. At his age he wouldn’t be missing home as Laura was; as long as he was warm, well fed and cared for he didn’t mind where he was.
Laura returned with two mugs of tea and Paula’s cup of water on a tray, which she placed on one of the small occasional tables. ‘I’ve put the flowers in a vase,’ she said. ‘I’ll take them up to my room later. Thanks again. Everyone is being so kind to me.’
I smiled. ‘You’re welcome.’
Paula drank some of her wat
er and then squatted down beside Liam again as I sat next to Laura on the sofa. ‘You don’t take sugar, do you?’ she said, passing me one of the mugs of tea.
‘No. That’s perfect, thanks.’
There was then an awkward silence as we both sipped our tea and occupied our gazes by watching the children.
‘Liam’s grown since the last time I saw him,’ I said.
‘Yes. He’s doing well. They’re very pleased with him here.’
There was another silence and then I commented on the weather and what a lovely view there was through the lounge window. Laura agreed. She didn’t attempt to initiate conversation and if I’m honest it was a bit difficult, as I didn’t know which subjects were safe and what I should avoid, which was silly really, I suppose. So I asked about Liam – if he slept well and so on, and I told Laura that Fran sent her best wishes and was hoping to visit soon. ‘That’s nice of her,’ she said.
I mentioned that Adrian, Paula and I often walked to and from school with her mum (Gina) and Kim, and that Kim always told us what she’d been doing the evening before when she visited. ‘It sounds as though she’s a big help here,’ I said as I finished the last of my tea.
‘Yes. Kim’s made friends with the other mothers. They all like her.’
I then said again how comfortable the lounge was, how easy the journey here had been and a bit about Kim and Adrian’s school.
‘The schools break up soon,’ Laura said. ‘I’ve told my doctor I want to be out of here and home in time for the summer holidays.’
I nodded. I didn’t know how realistic this was – the end of term was only two weeks away. Laura seemed well enough in many respects; there was no sign of the gnawing anxiety and debilitating depression that had plagued her before coming here, yet there was still something. Her conversation was slow and faltering, and she’d lost spontaneity, which I guessed could be another side effect of the medication – slowing her thought processes as it calmed them. She seemed to be aware of this; a couple of times when she was trying to think of a word and it just wouldn’t come she said, ‘Sorry, my brain’s stopped functioning.’ She gave a small laugh.
