Innocent

by Cathy Glass

  ‘So you saw Mummy and Daddy yesterday,’ Tamara, the Guardian, said to Molly and Kit a little after 2 p.m. as she settled into an armchair in the living room. ‘How did that go?’

  Molly stared at her, while Kit said ‘Mummy ’n’ Daddy’ and then picked up his toy fire engine and dumped it in her lap.

  ‘That’s a lovely fire engine,’ Tamara said. ‘Was it a Christmas present?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kit, although he replied yes to most questions.

  Molly continued to sit by the toy boxes, looking warily at the Guardian, and I threw her a reassuring smile.

  ‘Did you have a nice time yesterday when you saw your mummy and daddy?’ she tried again.

  Molly nodded, while Kit took back his fire engine as she wasn’t playing with it and brought it to me.

  ‘What did you do when you saw Mummy and Daddy?’ the Guardian asked Molly.

  She shrugged.

  ‘How do you think it went?’ the Guardian now asked me. ‘I’ll be speaking to Tess tomorrow for an update.’

  ‘I think it went quite well considering they hadn’t seen each other for a while,’ I said. ‘Molly had some questions afterwards, which I did my best to answer. Kit didn’t really understand and seemed a bit confused.’

  ‘That’s understandable,’ she said, and made a note on a pad she took from her bag. ‘What questions do you have?’ she asked Molly.

  Molly shrugged again.

  ‘Mainly about their home, if Mummy is better and whether they will be living with her and Daddy again,’ I said.

  ‘We don’t know that yet,’ she told Molly.

  Tamara continued by asking Molly about her feelings towards her parents, if she was happy with me and why she thought her mummy had been in hospital. Molly nodded and shrugged her responses, while Kit sat on my lap and looked around hopefully every time he heard the words ‘mummy’ or ‘daddy’. It was sad.

  Tamara made some notes and was with us about an hour. By the time she’d finished I was no closer to knowing what her recommendation to the court would be on the long-term plans for the children. Sometimes the Guardian tells the foster carer and sometimes it’s possible to pick up the way it’s likely to go from what they say, but that wasn’t so here. I supposed she might not have yet decided, although she’d need to soon, as her report would be due in court well ahead of the hearing.

  On Friday morning I spent time preparing the children for seeing their mother again, as I didn’t want a repeat of their first meeting when Aneta had looked upset and rejected. We sat at the table and drew pictures of Blue Room with their parents and them in it, and of course the contact supervisor was there sitting at the table. ‘She does a lot of writing,’ Molly remarked.

  ‘She does,’ I agreed.

  ‘Mummy said it was about us.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s nothing for you to worry about. Just enjoy your time with your parents. How do you think your mummy might be feeling?’

  ‘Happy and sad with a funny tummy, like when I first went to nursery,’ Molly said.

  ‘That’s a good description.’

  Molly wanted to make another card for her mummy and daddy and I helped her, while Kit sat beside me enthusiastically scribbling with jumbo crayons on a separate sheet of paper. ‘Mummy ’n’ Daddy,’ he said.

  I smiled. ‘Yes, good boy. You’ll be seeing them later.’

  Contact that afternoon was less awkward right from the start. Aneta seemed more relaxed and said ‘Hello’ and smiled as we entered the room. It was Blue Room again, but no one seemed to mind. Molly only showed a little hesitation in going to her mother and then ran over and gave her the card.

  ‘For me?’ Aneta exclaimed, pleased. ‘It’s lovely. Thank you, darling. I was thinking we could do some drawing together today. Would you like that?’

  ‘Yes,’ Molly said. Kit had gone straight to his father again and gave him the picture he’d made, which Filip admired.

  I wished them a nice time, said goodbye and left.

  When I returned to collect the children from contact Molly presented me with a picture. ‘Mummy helped me,’ she said.

  ‘Fantastic. Thank you.’ It was of a beautiful picturesque country scene with a cottage, a river, and cows and horses grazing in the meadow. ‘I’ll put it in our living room so we can all enjoy it,’ I said.

  Aneta picked up the children’s coats, gave Kit’s to Filip to help him put it on and then went to Molly. She allowed her mother to help her into her coat. ‘You have to keep warm, it’s cold out there,’ Aneta said. ‘Have a nice weekend and I’ll see you on Monday.’

  Both parents kissed the children goodbye and we left.

  ‘Mummy! Daddy!’ Kit suddenly cried as we went down the corridor and began agitating to go back into the room, which wasn’t a good idea.

  ‘You’ll see Mummy and Daddy again soon,’ I said. ‘Three more sleeps.’ He tugged on my arm to return, so I picked him up and carried him out of the building and to the car.

  ‘Mummy, Daddy,’ he said, straining to look out of the window as I drove away.

  ‘Three more sleeps,’ Molly told him and held his hand.

  ‘Good girl.’

  On Saturday Adrian helped me move Kit’s cot into Molly’s room and that evening the children took a long time to get off to sleep. I didn’t mind. They were very excited to be sharing and there was a lot of laughing and giggling, and Molly kept getting out of bed. While I didn’t think she would intentionally harm Kit, I was concerned there might be an accident, and I checked on them regularly until they were both asleep a little after 10 p.m. At 6.30 a.m. I woke to the sound of them laughing and squealing again and Kit jumping up and down in his cot. I went in and found him trying to climb out. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he needed a proper bed.

  We saw my mother on Sunday and then the week flew by with contact on three afternoons and Molly at nursery for two mornings. I was also planning a birthday party for Molly and Kit. Their birthdays were in February and only a week apart: Molly would be four and Kit two. I decided on a joint party and we gave out invitations to Molly’s friends at nursery. I also invited someone I’d been chatting to at the playgroup Kit had gone to, who had a similar-aged boy. My mother, Paula, Lucy, Adrian and possibly Kirsty would be coming too. Molly asked if her mummy and daddy could come, and I had to say that wasn’t possible, but they’d have another birthday party at contact, which she accepted. I knew that parents usually made a little party for their children during normal contact hours, when they also gave them their presents.

  A colleague of Edith’s telephoned and said that Edith was off sick, having had an appendectomy, and I should contact her if I needed anything urgently. I emailed Edith wishing her a speedy recovery and then copied her into emails I sent to her colleague and Tess, so she was kept up to date for when she returned. Molly would start school in September and I provisionally reserved a place for her at the school on the same site as the nursery, where my children had gone.

  Molly’s and Kit’s birthdays obligingly fell on days when they had contact – Molly’s on Monday and Kit’s the following Wednesday – and Aneta told me she was planning party teas. I dressed the children in some of the new clothes Filip had bought, and they were excited. Aneta and Filip had set out party food on paper plates and there were balloons and a birthday cake on both days. They gave them presents: Molly a bike with a basket and bell and Kit a tricycle that had a loud horn on the front. They were lovely presents, and at the end of contact Filip and Aneta came out to my car to help put the bikes in the boot, and then waved us off from the car park.

  The party I threw for Molly and Kit was on the Saturday between their birthdays, 2–5 p.m., so they had three parties in all. I made a birthday tea with little sandwiches, cocktail sausages, thinly sliced carrots and cucumber, crisps, jelly and ice cream. Mum made cupcakes and I’d also bought a birthday cake for eac
h of them. The parents of the children from nursery and playgroup stayed and had a glass of wine, so we had a house full. I think the adults enjoyed themselves as much as the children. I know I did. I arranged party games, which we all played, the parents shouting and laughing and just as competitive as the little ones. The party ran on and it was 7 p.m. before all our guests had gone. Mum and Kirsty played with Molly and Kit while the rest of us cleared up.

  Later that evening, when the house was tidy and the children were in bed, Mum and I sat in the living room talking over a cup of tea and another cupcake. She was staying the night. Adrian was taking Kirsty home and the girls were relaxing in their bedrooms.

  ‘Molly and Kit have come on so much,’ Mum said. ‘When I think back to how they were when they first arrived – pasty and withdrawn – they’re different children now. You’ve done a good job.’

  ‘Thank you. It wasn’t difficult. They are little treasures.’

  ‘You’ll miss them if they have to leave,’ she said.

  ‘We all will,’ I agreed. ‘But I’m almost certain that’s not going to happen. The social services are opposing the parents’ application to have them returned and I think the Guardian’s recommendation will support that.’

  ‘Will they stay with you permanently then?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Judge’s Decision

  The rest of February was bitterly cold, with a heavy frost each night but no snow. The children loved their new bikes and we took them to the park each weekend. I took lots of photographs and gave a set to their parents at contact. February gave way to March, the evenings drew out and daffodils bloomed, suggesting spring wasn’t far away. I was assuming Molly and Kit would be with us long term, so I measured their bedroom and started looking at beds. It wasn’t a big room, and the present bed was rather large, so I thought I would buy two small single beds rather than a bunk bed, which would be safer. I could imagine Kit climbing up and jumping off a bunk bed, and we certainly didn’t want an accident and another visit to A&E!

  The court case loomed. Scheduled for three days at the end of March, it wasn’t mentioned by Aneta and Filip when I took the children to contact or collected them, although it must have been playing on their minds. Indeed, I doubted they thought about much else. This was their chance – possibly their only chance – to win back their children, and my heart went out to them. Clearly the children’s welfare was paramount, but for any parent to lose their children is horrendous. Although they didn’t say anything, I could see the strain taking its toll as they tried to put on brave faces for the sake of Molly and Kit.

  The week before the court hearing Tess visited us and said she’d asked Filip and Aneta not to discuss the proceedings in front of the children. She also said there would be no contact on Wednesday and Friday the following week as Filip and Aneta would be in court. She was with us for about an hour, talked to and played with the children, with and without me present. She looked around the house and when we went into the children’s bedroom I told her my plans for replacing the beds and she agreed it was a good idea. Molly and Kit were with us and Molly was excited that Kit was going to have a ‘big bed’ as she put it. ‘Mummy’s getting one too,’ she said, which was the first I’d heard of it. I looked at Tess and she nodded.

  ‘I advised them to wait until after the hearing,’ Tess said quietly to me.

  Was buying a bed wishful thinking on the part of the parents or did they have a reasonable chance of winning the court case and having the children returned? Clearly Tess didn’t think so, and from what I knew, neither did I.

  When I took the children to contact on Monday – the last one before the court hearing – Aneta and Filip were very subdued, unsurprisingly. The next time we saw them the decision on their children’s future would have been made. If the judge decided the children should remain in care then contact would be swiftly and drastically reduced down to once or twice a year to allow Molly and Kit to bond with their permanent family. Did I think they would be allowed to stay with me? Yes, I thought there was a strong possibility, as the children were settled with us. Against me was my age. Children as young as Molly and Kit were usually adopted by young childless couples in their thirties. I already had three children and was in my fifties. I would be in my seventies before Molly and Kit were young adults and could reasonably be expected to live independently if I died. This would be a factor, but I could change my will and appoint Adrian, Lucy and Paula as Molly and Kit’s guardians should I die while they were minors. Another factor was the number of bedrooms in the house. Molly and Kit could only share for another year and then, when Molly was five, she would need a bedroom of her own. There was a chance Adrian might be living with Kirsty by then – I felt it was only a matter of time – and if not, perhaps Paula and Lucy could share or I could extend the house. I had it all worked out.

  When I collected Molly and Kit at the end of contact on Monday Aneta and Filip held them close and gave them lots of extra kisses. ‘Wish us luck,’ Filip said as we left.

  ‘Luck,’ Kit repeated.

  Although the children weren’t aware – as far as I knew – of the enormity of what their parents were facing, Molly, at least, had picked up on their anxiety. As we got into the car she suddenly cried, ‘I feel sick!’ And just for a moment I wondered if Aneta had tampered with their food and drink at contact, but then I realized that it was more likely nerves.

  ‘Take a few deep breaths,’ I told Molly. ‘There is nothing to worry about. Mummy and Daddy are fine and you’ll see them next week.’ She did as I said and the feeling of nausea passed.

  The weeks usually fly by, but that week seemed very long. I thought a lot about the court proceedings that would seal Molly and Kit’s fate. I could picture Aneta and Filip in court, dressed smartly but very nervous, their solicitor and barrister with caseloads of paperwork, the Guardian ad Litem, Tess, the social services’ solicitor and barrister with their paperwork – all taking turns to present their evidence to the judge. Tess had said the case had been allocated three days, so I was assuming the earliest I would hear from her would be the following Monday. However, it was possible a decision might not be made and the judge would adjourn the proceedings and ask for further reports. It was a nail-biting wait.

  With no contact for the rest of the week, on Friday after lunch I took the children with their bikes to our local park. We made slow progress on the way there with them pedalling and me steadying the bikes and keeping them away from the kerb. Usually we took the bikes to the park at weekends when I had the help of the girls. It was just after two o’clock when we entered the park and my mobile began to ring. To my surprise it was Tess. ‘Where are you?’ she asked, her voice tight.

  ‘In the park.’

  ‘You need to get the children to contact for three o’clock.’

  ‘Do I?’ I asked, panic setting in. ‘I thought contact had been cancelled and you were in court.’

  ‘We were. I’ve just come out. The judge has made his decision. The children will be returning home.’

  ‘What?’ I asked, shocked.

  ‘I know. I’ll phone you on Monday with the details, but the judge wants contact to take place this afternoon. It won’t be supervised, but take the children to the Family Centre anyway and they can go out from there.’

  ‘Not supervised?’

  ‘That’s right. Contact is in the community. The parents can take the children out. I would have liked more time to prepare them, but that’s not going to happen. Their barrister pushed for contact today and the judge agreed. I’ll phone you on Monday, but I need to go now. Make sure they are there for three o’clock,’ she said.

  ‘I will.’

  My mouth went dry and my legs felt like jelly. I continued walking in a daze a little behind the children. Unsupervised contact, the children were going home – I was as shocked as Tess had sou
nded. No, I was more than shocked, I was stunned. But the judge had made the decision and it needed to be acted on.

  ‘Molly! Kit!’ I cried, catching up with them. ‘We have to go back straight away. You’re seeing your mummy and daddy this afternoon.’

  They stopped pedalling. Molly looked at me, confused, while Kit repeated, ‘Mummy ’n’ Daddy.’

  ‘Yes, come on. We have to go to the Family Centre.’ I turned their bikes around and we headed back towards the house, my heart drumming loudly as I struggled to come to terms with the judge’s decision. While I’d been involved in other cases where the judge had ruled against the social services, I couldn’t ever remember it happening when they’d been so convinced the judge would uphold their view. I assumed the Guardian’s report had recommended the children were returned home, as the judge usually accepted their recommendation. But the judge must have been convinced it was the correct guidance and the children wouldn’t be in any danger.

  Did I feel any bitterness or resentment towards the parents? No, but I was devastated at the prospect of losing Molly and Kit. As a family that fosters, we’d had to say goodbye to many children in the past, but never had it been so unexpected and abrupt. I didn’t know the timescale of Molly and Kit moving home – Tess would tell me on Monday – but given that we’d gone straight to unsupervised contact I knew it wouldn’t be long.

  I left the bikes in the hall to put away later, hurried the children into the car and drove straight to the Family Centre. Aneta and Filip must have been waiting in reception, for as I parked they rushed out and down the path.