by Cathy Glass
Exhausted from no sleep the night before, I went to bed early on Saturday and slept like a log. I woke on Sunday morning to see Kit smiling happily at me from his cot. We were back to normal.
We all had breakfast together and then Adrian went out to spend the day with Kirsty. It was raining hard and forecast to continue for most of the day. Kit was full of energy, which needed to be burnt off, so I put on some music for him to dance to, as I’d done before. Most children like to dance and they seem to have a natural rhythm, but Kit’s dancing was very enthusiastic and athletic. He jumped up and down on the spot with his hands in the air as if he was suspended on elastic. We laughed and clapped. I held his hands so he could jump even higher, while Lucy and Paula danced with Molly. It was great fun and we played the old favourites like ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA and ‘One Love’ by Bob Marley. Presently Lucy popped into the kitchen to get a drink and then re-joined us. We carried on dancing but she suddenly dropped Molly’s hand and cried, ‘I’m going to be sick, Mum!’ And fled the room.
I left Paula to look after Molly and Kit and went after Lucy. She was in the kitchen bent over the sink and retching. I held her hair away from her face until she was sick – a clear orange liquid. I reassured her and passed her a tissue. Straightening, she wiped her mouth.
‘It was that juice, Mum,’ she said. ‘That’s what I had just now.’
‘The apple juice?’ I asked, surprised.
‘No, the orange juice.’
‘I didn’t think we had any.’ It was on my list to buy. I turned to the fridge and opened the door. ‘This one?’ I asked, taking out the open litre packet of orange juice. She nodded. ‘It’s Molly and Kit’s.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t know.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said.
Food and drink that was sent from contact I kept specifically for the children. It was important, as food is not just about eating but nurturing and love, and it’s one of the ways parents can maintain a bond with their children while they’re not living with them. It didn’t really matter that Lucy had inadvertently drunk some of their juice on this occasion, apart from the fact that it had made her sick.
‘I had some yesterday as well before I was sick,’ she said, splashing cold water on her face.
‘The same juice?’
‘Yes. I thought it was ours.’
I looked at the packet for the use-by date and found it still had six months to go. I checked the ingredients. It was a different brand to the juice I usually bought, but it contained only water and orange juice from concentrate. That meant the oranges had been compressed to remove excess water before being packaged and transported, and had then had water added in the destination country before being sent to the shops. There were no additives listed.
‘Perhaps it’s been open a long time,’ Lucy suggested, wiping her face and coming to stand beside me. She knew, as I did, that most products had to be consumed within a certain time after opening. Next to the use-by date were the words: Store in a cool, dry place and consume within five days of opening.
‘I suppose it’s possible it’s been open a long time prior to Aneta taking it to contact,’ I said. I wouldn’t know, as most of the food and drink the children brought home from contact was open or half-eaten. ‘Do you still feel sick?’
‘No.’
I poured her a glass of water and she went to sit quietly for a while. I wasn’t convinced the juice drink was responsible – it smelt fine to me – but to be on the safe side I tipped the last of it down the sink and threw the packet in the bin. I thought, as I had when Lucy had been sick the day before, that it was likely she had picked up a bug from work and it was still in her system. An hour later she was fully recovered and well enough to meet her friends and go to the cinema as she’d arranged.
On Monday our weekday routine began again and in the afternoon I took Kit and Molly to contact. I saw them into the room, said a general hello to Aneta, Filip and the contact supervisor, and left. Molly must have mentioned that Lucy had been ill, for when I collected the children at the end of contact Aneta called over, ‘I hear your daughter was sick.’
‘Yes, she was,’ I said. ‘But she seems fine now.’ Aneta was busy buttoning up her coat.
‘Do you know what caused it?’ she asked, concentrating on her coat.
‘No, not really.’
Then, as cold as ice, she looked up and said, ‘Good, because now you know how I feel.’
I was taken aback and I saw the contact supervisor look at her. Aneta’s comment was harsh and suggested I hadn’t shown any empathy in respect of her children’s illnesses, which I had. I was doing all I could to find out what was causing their sickness, and I had said on many occasions how worrying it was. Regardless of whether Aneta or Filip had intentionally harmed the children as the social services had suspected, I certainly appreciated how worried they must be in respect of their children’s health.
I didn’t reply. Aneta had turned away and Filip brought Molly and Kit to me with a carrier bag of snacks and drinks. ‘I’m sorry your daughter was ill,’ he said quietly. ‘I hope she is fully recovered now.’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
I called goodbye and we left. Molly must have heard her mother’s animosity towards me, for as I helped her and Kit into the car she threw her arms around me and said, ‘I like you, even if Mummy doesn’t. So does Kit.’
I was really touched and a lump rose in my throat. ‘Thank you, love, that is kind. I like you and Kit too, lots and lots.’
I cooked fish, mashed potatoes and peas for dinner that evening, all of which Molly and Kit had had before. I made a parsley sauce to go with the fish but didn’t give it to the children. I doubted they would like it anyway, but I was keeping their food simple until we knew what was causing them to be ill. We all ate together and Sammy, smelling the fish, sat beside Kit’s chair, aware there could be bits dropping. Kit was good at feeding himself now and wanted to do it, but at his age he hadn’t yet developed the hand–eye coordination that Molly had, so bits dropped off his spoon. If they fell into his bib, which had a scoop, he retrieved them, but if they fell to the floor I cleared them up after the meal and threw them away. However, if we had fish, Sammy always appeared. As we ate I saw Kit looking down at Sammy from his chair, fascinated, then he intentionally dropped some food for him.
‘That’s for you,’ I said, ‘not Sammy.’
He grinned mischievously and, when he thought I wasn’t looking, dropped some more. Typical toddler doing as he wanted.
‘That’s your dinner, not Sammy’s,’ I said again. I could tell from Kit’s expression he was going to do it again. Time for a little positive reinforcement, I thought – also known as a bribe. ‘Eat your dinner and then you can help me give Sammy his dinner,’ I told Kit. It worked. Apart from a few peas, which genuinely rolled off his spoon and onto the floor, he finished the lot.
Kit was generally a good eater. Molly tended to be fussy, as she worried about being sick, which was hardly surprising given the number of times she had been sick after eating or drinking something. I’d yet to speak to Tess about Kit’s overnight stay in hospital last Friday and the referral to the allergy clinic. I’d updated her by email and I assumed she’d be in touch at some point when she had the chance.
For dessert we had homemade rice pudding, which we’d all had before. Adrian, Paula, Lucy and I had a blob of jam on it, but I didn’t put any on Molly’s and Kit’s. Shop-bought jam was one of the suspect foods on my list and I hadn’t yet worked out which ingredient could be causing the children a problem. Once we’d finished dinner, both Kit and Molly helped me feed Sammy, and then around 7.30 p.m. I began Kit’s bath and bedtime routine while Paula looked after Molly downstairs, playing with her and reading her stories. I ran Kit’s bath and he played in it for a while, then, once he was in his pyjamas, I sat on the edge of my bed and read him some stories, bef
ore laying him in his cot. Sometimes he didn’t settle the first time and stood up, so I waited on the landing, ready to go in and resettle him if necessary. Once he was asleep, he usually slept through till morning. As I waited I could hear Paula’s voice coming from the living room as she read Molly a story. Adrian was in his room working on his laptop, and Lucy was in her room talking on her phone. Suddenly the calm of the evening was shattered when Paula cried, ‘Mum! Come quickly! Molly’s been sick.’
I rushed downstairs and into the living room. Molly and Paula were on the sofa, a book between them and a puddle on the carpet in front of them.
‘Sorry, I couldn’t get the bucket in time,’ Paula said, standing and grimacing.
‘Don’t worry. Just be careful you don’t step in it,’ I said to her, then to Molly, ‘Are you going to be sick again?’ She shook her head and I helped her from the sofa and around the mess on the carpet.
‘Could you give her a drink of water while I clean the carpet, please?’ I asked Paula.
‘She isn’t going to be sick again, is she?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
I filled a bucket with hot water and disinfectant and set about cleaning the carpet, wondering what on earth had caused Molly to be sick this time. It had to be something I’d given her for dinner, but what? She and Kit had had it all before, and this time – to be on the safe side – I’d left out the vanilla extract and cinnamon I usually put in rice pudding. Kit had eaten exactly the same as Molly, but only she had been sick. It was ridiculous and very, very worrying, I thought, as I scrubbed the carpet. I just couldn’t work it out. Again, I felt sorry for the parents who’d struggled with this for so long. I decided that first thing in the morning I would phone Tess and push the referral to the allergy clinic the doctor had mentioned, even it if meant going against the parents. This couldn’t be allowed to continue.
Paula reappeared with Molly. ‘Shall I take her up to bed now?’
‘Yes, please, love. Can you run her bath and I’ll be up as soon as I’ve finished here? Molly hasn’t had anything to eat since dinner, has she?’ I asked.
‘No, only a drink. She wanted some of her chocolate milkshake.’
‘OK, and that’s all?’
‘Yes.’
On their way upstairs I heard Paula reassuring Molly that she wouldn’t be sick again and I continued to clean the carpet. The chocolate milkshake Molly had drunk had come from contact and I now began to wonder if that – like the juice – had been opened some time ago, been stored incorrectly and had gone off. Could it really be something that simple was causing the children to be sick? It was possible, I supposed. I knew Aneta and Filip were on a tight budget and perhaps they kept food and drink longer than was safe. Perhaps they didn’t own a fridge or freezer? I didn’t know, but it seemed incredible that they hadn’t considered this possibility before when the children had been so ill at home, although sometimes the obvious is overlooked. However, at present, I just had the two drinks to go on and that wasn’t enough. Before I raised this with Tess I’d have to have more evidence.
I fetched clean cloths and patted the carpet dry and then went upstairs to see to Molly. She was in the bath and I thanked Paula, who went off to do some college work.
Once I’d settled Molly in bed I returned downstairs and sat at the table in the kitchen-diner with the food diary. I began going through it, looking at all the times when Molly and/or Kit had been sick and what they’d had to eat or drink. I hadn’t been noting where the food had come from – contact or if I’d bought it – as there’d been no reason to until now. If I was correct about the way the food and drink had been stored, then the children would only have been sick after consuming something from contact. Some of the instances where food had come from contact I remembered, but others I wasn’t sure. Some were obvious because the food that had made them ill wasn’t something I ever bought; for example, ready-made milkshakes and Pot Noodles. I could also include the times the children had been ill straight after contact – before I’d given them anything, and I knew from the contact supervisor what they’d had to eat and drink. As well as marking the examples in the food diary, I copied the details onto a separate sheet of paper, ready for when I told Tess.
It was time-consuming, but after an hour and a half I had twenty-two definites – instances of when the children’s sickness was directly linked to something they’d either consumed at contact or had brought home and had. I set my pen down and allowed myself a small moment of congratulation. I was excited, there was no other word for it. At last we were getting somewhere and I’d phone Tess with what I’d discovered first thing in the morning. The children were being made ill from food and drink that was being stored incorrectly at home.
Chapter Sixteen
My Fault
I lay awake that night running through what I was going to say to Tess the following morning. I worried how Aneta would take the news. I thought she’d feel even more resentful towards me than she did already. No mother would thank you for suggesting she could be responsible – even inadvertently – for making her children ill. But if I was right (I was certain I was) and I’d identified the reason Molly and Kit were ill so often, then I assumed that once she and Filip had got over the shock they would be relieved and even grateful. Whether the children would be allowed to return home to live, I didn’t know. There was still the outstanding matter of suspected non-accidental injuries, but that would be for the judge to decide based on the evidence presented at the final court hearing.
The following morning, once Adrian, Lucy and Paula had left, and the children were up and had had their breakfast, I settled them in the living room with lots of toys. I told Molly I had to make an important phone call and to play nicely with Kit. Taking the handset, I stood just outside the living-room door, where I could keep an eye on them but they couldn’t easily overhear me. Molly, like most children her age, didn’t miss much and I didn’t want her hearing what I had to say to Tess. It was 9.15 a.m. and Tess was at her desk.
‘I was going to phone you later,’ she said apologetically. ‘Sorry I haven’t replied to your email. How is Kit?’
‘All right now. He was kept in hospital overnight as a precaution, but he recovered quickly. I called an ambulance because he had difficulty breathing after being sick. The doctor has made a referral to the allergy clinic.’
‘Yes, I saw that in your email. I’ll have to talk to the parents again.’
‘There’s been a development since I sent that email,’ I said, and felt my heart start to race as the adrenaline kicked in. ‘Tess, I’m sure I’ve found what is causing Molly and Kit to be so sick.’
‘Really? What?’
‘I appreciate this is a bit sensitive, but I think it’s the food and drink the parents are taking into contact that’s gone off. I’ve been through the food diary and have found twenty-two instances where I can link food or drink consumed at contact to one or both of the children being sick.’
‘Really?’ she said again.
‘Yes, they’ve either eaten it there or brought it back to finish here.’ I then gave examples from the list I’d transcribed from the food diary and had copied onto a separate sheet. ‘I became suspicious this weekend when my daughter, Lucy, twice had some of Kit and Molly’s orange juice by mistake, and was violently sick soon both times. Then yesterday Molly was sick after finishing a milkshake that had come from contact. It’s too much of a coincidence.’
There was a long silence before Tess asked, ‘Have you kept any of the food and drink you think is responsible?’
‘No. I threw it away. I didn’t want to risk anyone having it.’
‘Pity. We could have had it tested.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I wasn’t thinking.’ I waited for something further to come from Tess, but when it didn’t I added, ‘I’m sure this is the answer, and if I’m right it would explain why it was hap
pening at their home too before they came into care.’
‘It could,’ Tess said hesitantly. There was another pause, during which time I began to think she had doubts, as clearly she wasn’t sharing my enthusiasm. ‘The juice and milkshake were already open?’ she asked at length.
‘Yes. What they don’t finish at contact Aneta sends back with them. They were in date, I checked, but I think they may have been open for too long prior to being taken to contact and perhaps not kept in a fridge. They didn’t smell off, but that’s not to say they weren’t off. Presumably the contact supervisor will know if the packets and bottles were already open at the start of contact?’
‘It’s possible,’ Tess said. ‘But would food poisoning have caused Kit’s breathing difficulty and a rash?’
‘I don’t know.’
Another pause and then Tess said, ‘I’m going to have to discuss this with my line manager and get back to you.’
‘OK.’
She said a quick goodbye, and I returned to the living room, my previous euphoria at having discovered the cause of the children’s sickness largely gone. I could tell from Tess’s voice that she had doubts and I felt a bit foolish. Perhaps I wasn’t right. Yet there were issues that needed addressing quite quickly. The children had contact again tomorrow. Were they going to consume food and drink brought from home that could potentially make them ill again? Shouldn’t Tess at least warn Aneta and Filip it could be a possibility? I would raise this with her when she telephoned back.
With no contact today we needed an outing, so I wrapped the children up warm, and with Kit in the stroller and Molly walking beside me we went to the High Street. I needed to buy groceries and also 5th November, Bonfire Night, was the day after tomorrow, and I wanted to buy some fireworks to left off in our garden. Molly and Kit were too young to be taken to a large organized display, they’d be frightened of the loud bangs and flashes of light, but a few pretty fireworks in our garden would be fine. We’d done this before; indeed, when my children had been younger we’d invited my parents, some friends and neighbours in for a little bonfire party with hotdogs and jacket potatoes. Now Lucy, Adrian and Paula tended to go to organized displays with their friends, usually on the following weekend.
