Innocent

by Cathy Glass

  ‘Yes, with the contact supervisor. You know where Yellow Room is?’

  ‘I do, thank you.’ I knew the layout of the building from having brought many children here in the past.

  I took Molly and Kit by the hand and said positively, ‘You’re seeing Mummy and Daddy in a different room today – Yellow Room. It’s got lots of toys just like Blue Room, but it’s painted yellow. I wonder what pictures will be on the door? Can you guess?’ I was trying to make it sound exciting so they wouldn’t worry, and it worked. As we turned the corner and the door to Yellow Room came into view, Molly ran to it and began pointing and naming the yellow pictures on the door. ‘A sunflower! A big yellow sun!’ she cried, and so on.

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. Kit began copying her, pointing to the pictures as his sister was and trying to repeat the words. Although this was fun and could have continued, I appreciated that this was supposed to be time with their parents.

  ‘Come on, let’s go in,’ I said, my hand on the doorknob. ‘Mummy and Daddy are waiting for you.’

  I opened the door and the children ran in and then stopped. I could see there was a problem. Aneta was standing, hands on hips, beside the table where the contact supervisor was, clearly very angry. Her features were twisted, hard and unyielding.

  ‘We’re not staying here!’ she said, now glaring at me. ‘This room’s too small! I’ve told them to find us a fucking bigger room.’

  I was taken aback. The contact supervisor was in conversation on her mobile, I assumed with the manager. Filip was standing on the other side of the room, looking embarrassed. The children went to him. There was an awkward silence as the contact supervisor listened to what she was being told on the phone, while Aneta shook her head, suggesting she wouldn’t accept any compromise – whatever it was.

  I looked at Molly and Kit, who were now hiding behind their father’s legs. I wondered how often their mother had lost her temper like this at home. It’s frightening for children to see a parent angry, as it shows a loss of control, and children need to see that the adults responsible for them are in control. It feels safe.

  The contact supervisor ended the call. ‘We can use Red Room or stay here,’ she said to Aneta. ‘The manager is on her way to explain.’

  ‘Is Red Room bigger?’ Aneta demanded.

  I knew the answer, it wasn’t, but then none of the rooms were small and they were all well equipped and comfortable.

  ‘The manager will explain,’ the contact supervisor said evenly.

  ‘There’s no need to bother her,’ Filip suddenly said, finally stepping up to the mark. ‘This room is fine for us.’

  ‘No, it’s not!’ Aneta retorted, eyes blazing.

  ‘Aneta, please, not in front of the children,’ Filip said wearily, as though he’d said it many times before.

  ‘I’m not being given a fucking second-class room!’ Aneta fired back. The children flinched. ‘They can go and take a running jump. I’d rather go home.’

  At that point the manager arrived and nodded for me to go. I’d never witnessed Aneta that angry before and I assumed it was probably due to stress. It was a complete over-reaction, but I’d seen parents of other children I’d fostered react disproportionately to quite minor issues and I appreciated why. Apart from the grief and worry of losing their child into care, they’d been stripped of most of the responsibility for their child and could only have a say in relatively minor matters. So, for example, they’d complain endlessly about the room being too hot or cold, or that it didn’t have a television, or the way the foster carer had styled their child’s hair, or the clothes and trainers they’d bought for them. It was the only control they had left, but the manager should be well equipped to deal with it.

  When I returned to collect Molly and Kit, the receptionist told me they were still in Yellow Room. At exactly five o’clock I knocked on the door and went in. The four of them were sitting together on the sofa. Filip had Molly on his lap and was reading her a story. Kit was snuggled between him and Aneta. Filip looked up at me. ‘Time to go,’ he said gently and, closing the book, he eased Molly from his lap.

  The children didn’t want to leave, which was only to be expected. They loved their parents and they seemed to have had a nice time. But as before, Filip told them to kiss their mother goodbye and then brought them to me. Aneta stayed on the sofa looking grumpy – not overtly angry, but not happy either. I guessed she didn’t like not getting her own way.

  ‘See you Friday,’ Filip said to me as he handed over the children.

  ‘I hope so,’ I replied. We said goodbye and left.

  Filip seemed to have assumed the children would still be with me on Friday afternoon, but I wasn’t so sure. Tess had said she would make a decision by the end of the week, but that decision could be to remove the children from me and send them to another carer as they’d planned. Unless, of course, Filip knew something I didn’t – but what? It was a question I returned to repeatedly for the rest of the day.

  On Thursday, with no contact, I took Molly and Kit out, this time to the soft-play centre I’d taken them to before. Molly was very excited, and Kit mirrored her enthusiasm while not really understanding where we were going until we arrived. As I watched them play, I checked my mobile regularly for any calls from Tess or Edith. With music playing throughout the centre, together with the excited shouts coming from the children, I wouldn’t hear my phone ring. However, by the time we left in the late afternoon I’d had a missed call from a friend and a few text messages, but nothing from Tess or Edith. Tomorrow was Friday and the end of the week, when Tess had said she’d make her decision. It also marked the end of another week without Molly or Kit being sick. In that respect I was delighted.

  I had gradually begun to reintroduce foods that I’d stopped giving the children as I’d thought they might cause an allergic reaction. Now they were having them without any ill effect, and were generally less anxious about their health and trying new foods. The colour had returned to their cheeks and they’d lost that sickly pallor. I also thought they were more active, so I told myself that even if they were taken from me the following day, at least I’d helped them in this. I’d identified what had been causing them to be sick, for I was more convinced than ever that it had been food from home that had been stored incorrectly and gone off.

  That evening, as we all sat down to dinner, my family and I did so in the knowledge that it could be our last evening meal together. Had I known for certain Molly and Kit were leaving the next day, I’d have given them a little leaving party as I’d done with other children I’d fostered. I would have invited my mother and some friends with their children and made a special party tea. When school-age children left I usually invited their close friends and sometimes their teacher and teaching assistant. Good endings are important and allow the child to move on with a positive frame of mind.

  Although we weren’t able to give Molly and Kit a leaving party, the delay had given me time to buy them a leaving card and gift each – children’s toy mobile phones. When the buttons were pressed, they played little tunes and taught the alphabet, counting, nursery rhymes and so on. Molly’s was more sophisticated than Kit’s, as she was that bit older, and included simple sums and word recognition. I was sure they were going to be delighted with them, as they were both fascinated by my mobile phone. Lucy, Adrian and Paula kept their phones with them, but if I left mine unattended and within reach of Molly or Kit, one of them was sure to appear with it before long. Molly tended to press the keys, while Kit often made us laugh as he held the phone to his ear and, with a very earnest expression, walked around the house babbling, presumably mimicking me when I took a call.

  Once the children were in bed that evening, I wrapped their gifts and we all signed the card. I put them out of sight under my bed with their half-packed suitcases. I then wrote up my log notes, aware there was a very good chance I’d be writing the final ent
ry tomorrow after they’d gone.

  Both children slept well but were awake very early, as if sensing change might be in the air. I managed to persuade Kit to play in his cot, and Molly to stay in her bedroom, while I had a quick shower and dressed. By 7.15 a.m. the three of us were downstairs, an hour earlier than usual. We were having breakfast as Adrian, Paula and Lucy appeared. It was a weekday, so they didn’t have time to talk or play with the children as they did at weekends; however, they all made a point of saying goodbye and giving them a big hug and kiss before they left. I assured them I’d text as soon as I heard from Tess. It was all very unsettling, and as 9 a.m. approached and the social services’ offices opened I felt my anxiety levels step up another notch. Edith was due to arrive at eleven o’clock and I wondered if perhaps she’d bring the news I was waiting for.

  I sat with the children in the living room and played various games and activities with them as I waited. While I was partly resigned to them leaving – it wouldn’t be the shock it had been when Tess had first told me – I would need time to explain to them what was happening and pack the rest of their belongings. Given that they had contact in the afternoon, I was assuming the move would take place in the morning, but we were running out of time.

  Just after 10 a.m. the house phone rang and I snatched up the handset in the living room. ‘Cathy, it’s Tess.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘How are Molly and Kit?’ she asked sombrely.

  ‘OK, they’re here in the living room with me, playing.’

  ‘Can you move away so they can’t hear you?’

  ‘Just a minute.’ I took the handset into the hall, wondering what on earth Tess had to tell me. ‘I’m out of earshot.’

  ‘Good.’ She paused as if summoning herself for what she had to say. My mouth went dry and my heart beat loudly. ‘I have the test results we’ve been waiting for and I’m afraid to say it appears we have a case of FDIA. Are you familiar with that term?’

  ‘Didn’t it used to be called Munchausen syndrome by proxy?’

  ‘That’s right. FDIA – Factitious Disorder Imposed on Another – or Munchausen syndrome by proxy. It’s when a person pretends that someone they look after is ill when they are not. In extreme cases they make the person ill. It would appear that is what Aneta has been doing.’

  ‘What?’ I gasped.

  ‘Yes, I know, shocking. But there’s little doubt, Aneta has intentionally been making her children sick.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Beyond Belief

  It took a moment for what Tess had told me to sink in. ‘Aneta has been making her children sick?’ I said numbly. ‘But how? They’ve been ill here too.’

  ‘That’s one of the reasons we didn’t make the connection. When Filip came to see me, he brought in a bottle of fluid that we’ve now had tested. It contained linctus, which induces vomiting.’

  ‘What?’ I gasped again, in utter disbelief. ‘What sort of linctus?’ I’d never heard of anything like that.

  ‘It’s usually used for medicinal purposes to make someone sick if they’ve ingested a poison. It appears that Aneta was using it regularly to make her children sick. She was able to buy it on the Internet.’

  ‘But they were sick here too. How did it get into my home?’ I asked, struggling to understand.

  ‘It was in the drink Molly and Kit brought home from contact, including the pineapple juice we took from the Family Centre to be tested.’

  ‘Oh.’ My head spun.

  ‘The police have been informed and will be interviewing the parents later today.’

  ‘Both parents?’

  ‘Yes. Although, from what we know, it’s likely Aneta was solely responsible. But that’s for the police to decide. In the meantime I’m suspending contact from today. I’ve informed the parents and the Family Centre. Can you tell the children, please?’

  ‘Yes, but what shall I say?’

  ‘Blame it on me,’ Tess said decisively. ‘Say I have made the decision to suspend contact for now. I’ll leave the exact wording to you. But don’t tell them one or both of their parents has been making them sick.’

  ‘No, I won’t.’ I was still struggling to take it all in.

  ‘I’ll need to come and see them next week. I’m not sure which day yet. I’ll let you know. You haven’t got any other food or drink from contact still there? The police asked.’

  ‘No. I threw it all away when I thought it could be responsible for making the children ill. I was thinking it must have gone off, never in a million years …’ My voice trailed away. ‘So Aneta added this linctus to the juice?’ I asked, still unable to believe it.

  ‘Yes. I’ve given the food diary to the police. They may want to speak to you about it.’

  ‘They don’t think I had anything to do with making the children sick?’ I asked, horrified.

  ‘No, but they may need to clarify some of your entries. Your writing isn’t that clear in places and the diary may be used in evidence.’

  ‘Sorry, I scribbled down notes as I went, never thinking it would lead to this.’

  ‘Also, can you confirm that Molly and Kit haven’t been ill since food and drink was banned from contact.’

  ‘That’s right, they haven’t,’ I said. ‘But the rash and breathing difficulties that Kit developed – when I had to take him to hospital – how does that fit in?’

  ‘It’s likely to have been caused by repeated doses of the linctus she was giving them. It gradually poisons the system. It could have killed them both.’

  I went cold as I remembered how I’d given Kit the juice drink the day he’d been very ill, lots of it. He’d wanted juice and, unaware it contained the poison, I’d given him as much as he wanted, unwittingly making him worse. My anger flared. Aneta had been using me as a tool to continue her evil actions, but why had she done it at all?

  ‘Why would anyone want to make their children ill?’ I asked. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘FDIA is a mental illness,’ Tess said. ‘The care-giver exaggerates the child’s illness or intentionally makes them sick in order to gain attention and sympathy. The victim is usually a child. FDIA is relatively rare but difficult to identify, so cases can easily be missed. It is most commonly found in parents of small children. One in ten victims dies as a result.’

  I shuddered. ‘Good grief. It could have killed Molly and Kit.’ I felt weak at the knees. Then my thoughts turned to the miserable childhoods they’d endured – always being sick. ‘Those poor children,’ I said. ‘They’ve been ill for most of their lives and needn’t have been. I can’t believe this.’

  ‘I know. We’re struggling here too. Kit and Molly will be staying with you for now.’

  ‘You’ve decided that?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve spoken to my manager. In view of what’s come to light, the probability is that Aneta made up the allegations about you to deflect attention away from herself. The police are of the same opinion.’

  ‘That’s a relief. My family and I were very upset at the suggestion we could have intentionally harmed the children.’

  ‘Filip has apologized. He has asked that the children remain with you for now, as they are settled. I’ll notify Edith so she can inform the other carers.’

  ‘She’s due here soon,’ I said. ‘Shall I tell her?’

  ‘Yes, please. She can phone me if she has any questions. But I can only tell her what I’ve told you. I’ll know more once both parents have been interviewed by the police. Thank you, Cathy.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Keeping a very detailed food diary and making the connection.’

  ‘It was you who suggested the food diary,’ I pointed out. ‘I was logging everything, thinking I was going to be able to identify a food allergy. It would never have occurred to me it could be this.’

  ‘No. The doctors might have ev
entually made a connection, but by then it might have been too late. The social services became involved because of Kit’s broken arm and other suspected non-accidental injuries. None of us considered FDIA, although personally I thought there was more going on with Aneta than met the eye. But that was a hunch, no more. Thankfully, Filip brought in the bottle of linctus.’

  ‘How did he know what it was? Did he just find it?’

  ‘He told us that Aneta was always giving the children medicine, so he didn’t think anything of it. He worked long hours and left the childcare to Aneta. When he saw her adding the linctus to the juice to take to contact, he queried it. Aneta told him you weren’t giving the children their medicine and that was why they were sick, so she wanted to make sure they had it. Sometimes she gave them juice at contact – which I’m guessing is when they were sick soon after – and the rest was sent home to you. The contact supervisor didn’t notice the packets were already open. There was no reason for her to check. Filip has told us that Aneta kept the medicines in a locked cabinet in their bathroom and she had the key. He only became suspicious when you made the link between the children being sick and the food and drink they were having at contact. When we took the juice and biscuits from the Family Centre to be analysed, he confronted Aneta and demanded the key to the medicine cabinet, where he found the bottle of linctus. He said he was horrified when he read on the label that the medicine was used to induce vomiting.’

  ‘So you don’t think he was involved?’

  ‘It’s unlikely. He was very upset and remorseful when he came in, and is blaming himself for not spotting sooner that something was wrong. But that’s for the police investigation to determine. I’ll be in touch with a date to visit you and the children next week.’