by Susan Lewis
‘Sssh, sssh,’ Auntie Maggie soothes, pulling me into her arms, ‘all anyone wants to do is make you happy.’
I want to believe her, I really do, so I think I will.
It was three in the morning New Zealand time when Anthony took a call from Maggie. ‘I’m sorry to wake you at such an unearthly hour,’ she apologised, ‘and I promise there’s no emergency. I just need to speak to you about something while I’m in the house on my own.’
Giving himself a moment to come round, Anthony said, ‘Where are Charlotte and Chloe?’
‘Gone for their first joint visit to the psychologist. Chloe thinks she’s going to help solve another little girl’s problems, and you should have seen how pumped up she was about that.’
Relieved to think of Chloe feeling good about something, Anthony asked, ‘So what’s the problem?’
‘Well, I’m afraid Chloe’s got it into her head that she’s being sent away. I don’t know where she’s picked it up from, but she’s clearly frightened to death and the fact that she’s sensing something … I haven’t mentioned it to Charlotte yet. She’s under so much strain already, poor thing, and having to explain to Chloe what’s going on …’
Anthony turned on a bedside light as someone knocked on the door.
‘Is everything all right?’ Anna called. ‘I thought I heard the phone.’
Telling her to come in, Anthony said, ‘It’s Maggie. Don’t worry, Charlotte and Chloe are fine, but Maggie has a bit of a dilemma.’
‘Is it anything I can help with?’ Anna offered.
‘Can you put her on?’ Maggie asked.
Handing over the phone, Anthony went to check on the children, and returned in time to hear Anna saying, ‘… of course we want to be truthful with Chloe, but I’m not sure how helpful it will be, for her or for Charlotte, if Chloe were to know in advance that she’s not going to be a part of our family any more.’ She glanced awkwardly at Anthony as Maggie spoke and then said, ‘Actually, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since Charlotte left, and I’ve started to wonder about some things that I’d really like to run past Julia. Do you think it would be OK for me to ring her?’ Maggie apparently did, because Anna began rummaging for a pen.
Handing her one, Anthony waited for the call to end and watched his mother-in-law walk out of the room apparently so deep in thought she’d forgotten he was there.
Deciding if he was still awake in an hour, and he suspected he would be, he’d ring Charlotte, not to pass on what Maggie had told him about Chloe’s fears – his sister and mother-in-law apparently had that in hand – but to find out how Chloe had got on with Julia Minor.
It would be a distraction, albeit a harrowing one, from what was going on in his part of the world.
Dear Charlotte, I want you to know that I passed your message to Polly Greenborough and she’s asked me to forward her reply.
With best wishes
Emily Burrows
As she stared at the screen Charlotte was aware of so much apprehension, hope and dread building inside her that she was finding it hard to move.
This is only Polly’s story, she reminded herself forcefully. It won’t be a voice from the future telling me what’s in store; it’ll simply be another mother’s experience of a traumatised child who she had to let go … or whom she found a way to keep without losing her family.
Unless she read the message she wouldn’t find out.
Dear Charlotte,
First of all let me express how deeply sorry I am that you are facing the same agonising decision with your daughter as I faced with Roxanne. Since being in that position I have discovered that it happens to far more people than we realise, but not everyone makes the mistake of going public the way I did. I stopped when I did because I hadn’t realised until then just how judgemental people could be, especially about things they don’t understand or have never experienced. It’s astonished and torn me apart to discover just how unforgiving some of my blog followers were, and how ready to damn me and tell me what I should have done.
Coming to a decision about Roxanne’s future was, as I’m sure you can imagine, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to face. Even if I’d decided to let her stay, I don’t think it would have been any easier, because I know now that it would only have been delaying the inevitable. You see, in my heart I already knew I had to let her go, it was making myself accept it, and do it, that caused me so many problems. I should never have let it drag on for as long as it did; spending six months or more talking to social services, psychologists, the parents of other traumatised children, was only prolonging the agony, not only for me, but for the rest of the family, including Roxanne. She didn’t know what was happening, but of course she sensed something, and I never found the courage to explain it. I couldn’t when I still hadn’t accepted that I was really going to let her go.
In the end the decision was taken out of my hands when she stabbed my son in the face with a kitchen knife. The injury was quite serious, he came close to losing an eye, but it could have been so much worse, and to be honest I think she meant it to be. It’s my belief that fear and frustration got the better of her, and she lashed out without thinking about what she was doing. Of course, once they knew about it, social services took her away, and the investigation that followed was brutal, accusatory, as if the police believed that we were in some way to blame for what she’d done.
Maybe on some level we were. All the secrets, the uncertainty, the sensing of something being wrong was very likely what tipped her over the edge – and what might have resulted in us losing our son.
I haven’t seen Roxanne since the day they took her. Please know this isn’t my choice, because I’ve tried on many occasions, but she refuses to see me. She won’t engage in emails or texts either, or the letter-box communication that social services set up.
It’s only through the social workers that I know she has finally, after two years of being passed from one foster carer to another and yet another, settled into a home with a single woman of around my age. Apparently she’s doing well at school and her new guardian seems to have no problems with her at all. So I guess this leads me to conclude that the psychologist was right and Roxanne really is benefiting from being an only child.
As for me, I can’t help feeling a failure. I think about her every day and I long to see her, and to meet the woman who’s taking care of her now, but I realise that can’t happen unless she wants it too. There’s no doubt that our family life is calmer; we laugh a lot, have successful days out, and my birth children are blossoming in confidence now they no longer have anything to be afraid of. So you could say that letting her go – or having her taken away – seems to have worked out for everyone, but I still have nightmares about her and it can take me some time when I wake up to remind myself they aren’t real.
I truly believe if I hadn’t taken so long trying to make that painful decision she would never have attacked my son, so my advice to you, Charlotte, is if you really believe your daughter is in need of more attention, more support and care than you can give, if you are concerned at all for your other children, please don’t make the mistake I made. Let her go sooner rather than later, don’t drag it out and frighten her into doing something you’ll all end up regretting. It’ll be very hard for you, but in the long run it will be much kinder to her.
Charlotte didn’t sleep that night. She read Polly’s message over and over, went into Chloe’s room to lie down with her but had to leave before panic and tears overwhelmed her.
By morning she was calmer, at least she thought she was. She rang Wendy several times, but she was in meetings and in the end Charlotte had to accept that she wasn’t going to get back to her until the following day.
It wouldn’t be too late. The situation would still be the same, but now that Charlotte had made up her mind, she was anxious to the point of frantic to carry it through.
She was going to hand Chloe over on Friday. Exactly why she’d decided on that day she couldn�
�t say, and since then she’d hardly stopped shaking or thinking the worst in every possible way. It wasn’t helped by today’s news being full of the rapists from Rotherham who’d been sentenced for the insidious grooming of young girls in care. Chloe was going to be a young girl in care; she’d be as vulnerable and alone as it was possible for a child to be, and predators like that were all over. They prowled the streets and Internet meaning real harm to defenceless children who’d already suffered too much.
It was some small comfort for Charlotte to think of how well Chloe had connected with Julia Minor during their initial session. ‘I’m sure we’ll hit some hurdles from time to time,’ Julia had said on the phone later, ‘they’re inevitable, I’m afraid, but based on our first meeting I believe that behind all the angst and delusions she genuinely cares about others. Certainly that’s what’s coming through where our fictitious little girl is concerned. She doesn’t realise yet that I’m painting a picture of her at that age. Hopefully, by the time she does we’ll have moved on far enough for her to start caring about herself in the same way.’
Those sorts of miracles did happen, and there was no reason to think they wouldn’t for Chloe. In spite of being in care, she would receive the best possible support from Julia, and Wendy would definitely keep a close eye on her too. It would be Wendy’s aim, Charlotte was certain of it, to make sure Chloe was placed with the best of all foster carers with the hope of securing a special guardianship for her as soon as the system allowed. If there was someone who loved Chloe as much as Charlotte did, and felt able to cope in a way Charlotte couldn’t, she would know beyond doubt that she’d done the right thing.
Getting up too fast from the bed she staggered, and became aware of how wildly her heart was beating. Her breathing was ragged and so many thoughts were colliding in her head that she hardly even knew what they were. She needed to pull herself together before going downstairs or Chloe would sense something was wrong, and so would Maggie.
At last her mobile rang, and seeing it was Wendy she almost dropped it in her haste to click on.
‘Wendy,’ she gasped, ‘I need to …’
‘Listen to me,’ Wendy interrupted. ‘I swear I’ve no idea how this happened, but it seems someone has tipped off your old nemesis from the Kesterly Gazette.’
Charlotte froze.
‘If you haven’t already seen the online edition you need to,’ Wendy told her. ‘I’ve been trying to find out who leaked the information. I feel sure it must have come from this end, unless you can think of anyone who’d want to do it.’
‘What does it say?’ Charlotte asked hoarsely.
‘Go read it, then ring me back. I’ll be on my mobile.’
Running down the stairs, Charlotte found Maggie in the kitchen. ‘Where’s Chloe?’ she asked, looking around.
‘She went with Ron to pick up some things at the supermarket,’ Maggie replied. ‘What is it? Charlotte, you’re shaking.’
Explaining that they needed to turn on the computer, Charlotte followed Maggie into Ron’s study, waited impatiently for her to put in the password, then linked straight to the KG Online website.
The story was on the home page.
Charlotte and Chloe – No Happy Ending, by Heather Hancock
As regular readers of the KG will know, Charlotte and Chloe Goodman shot to fame almost five years ago when Charlotte, a social worker from the area, stood trial for the abduction of three-year-old Chloe (aka Ottilie Wade). Charlotte was dramatically cleared of the charge and allowed to adopt the child. A remarkable story in itself (link), and one that warmed the hearts of the nation. Who couldn’t be moved by the way Anthony Goodman QC (now Charlotte’s husband) managed to pull off a verdict that owed far more to sentiment than it did to justice? We all rejoiced; little Chloe was getting the mummy – and daddy – she deserved after the horrendous abuse she’d suffered at the hands of her birth father, now serving a life sentence for his crimes at HMP Long Lartin (link).
When this reporter heard that Charlotte and Chloe were visiting Kesterly for the first time since they emigrated to New Zealand, I was keen to find out how life was treating them down under. Apparently there are more children now, and it seems Anthony has stayed behind to take care of them and the family vineyard (link) while Charlotte and Chloe are away.
All sounds good so far. Chloe is now almost nine years old and Charlotte, who is lucky to be alive after most of her family was slain in the infamous Temple Fields Massacre some thirty years ago (link), is also the mother of Cooper aged four and Elodie not yet two.
Wanting to learn more about their idyllic-sounding lives on the other side of the world, I was about to embark upon some background research when a rumour reached me that all was not well in paradise.
‘Oh god,’ Charlotte groaned, not wanting to go on.
Maggie was still reading.
In fact, according to my source, Charlotte has brought Chloe back to England with the intention of relinquishing her into the care of social services. If true then I’m sure, like me, you will be shocked and deeply troubled by this. There we all were thinking that Chloe was living happily with the mummy she’d chosen, and who had chosen her, but it turns out we could be wrong.
Could it be that now Charlotte has children of her own she doesn’t want her perfect world upset by the problematic offspring of a paedophile?
‘What the …’ Maggie muttered incredulously. ‘Didn’t it occur to her that Chloe is old enough to read this and understand it?’
‘People have already started to comment,’ Charlotte pointed out.
Kylie from Exmouth: It’s disgusting thinking you can do this to a child. If you ask me Chloe will be better off without her.
Nigel from Taunton: If it was her birth child she wouldn’t be able to hand it back just like that.
Sandra from Minehead: Actually Nigel, you can hand your own children into care if you can’t cope. Not that I’m saying it’s right, or that anyone should do it. In this instance it’s a disgrace. Think how much more traumatised that poor little girl is going to be.
Mattie from Mulgrove: We don’t even know if the rumours are true, or who Heather Hancock’s source is. As she’s got things wrong in the past I don’t think it reflects well on anyone to start passing judgement on something they know nothing about.
‘Do you know Mattie from Mulgrove?’ Maggie asked.
Charlotte’s hands were pressed to her face. ‘I’ve known her for most of my life. We went to school together, and she was my co-producer in the am-dram group we ran in the village.’
‘Well at least she’s able to see through bloody Heather Hancock. Thank goodness she reminded people of how wrong that wretched reporter has been in the past.’
‘Indeed,’ Charlotte mumbled, ‘but she isn’t wrong this time.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Maggie asked.
Charlotte said, ‘Wendy thinks the leak came from her end.’
Maggie nodded. ‘I meant about Chloe,’ she said gently.
Feeling as though she was on a runaway train that just wouldn’t stop, Charlotte said, ‘I need to call Wendy back,’ and running upstairs she found her mobile and connected to Wendy.
‘I want to bring her in on Friday,’ she said brokenly. ‘I’ve thought of a way to do it, I just need you to help me make it happen.’
Having finished reading the article Charlotte had sent him, Anthony stood staring at the computer screen, incensed and racked with every bit as much guilt as she was. Though he was aware of his father-in-law watching him, and knew that Bob had read the piece too, neither of them spoke.
Unusually they were alone in the winery; with an easterly tropical low heading their way Will had gone to speed up the final stages of picking, and it seemed the cellar rats were busy elsewhere for the moment.
‘So,’ Bob finally broke the silence, ‘when are you going to wrestle that beast to the ground?’
Knowing how his father-in-law loved to speak in metaphors, or riddles, or wh
atever the heck was going on right now, Anthony turned to him, obligingly responding, ‘Beast? I guess that’s one way of describing Heather Hancock.’
‘I’m not talking about the article,’ Bob explained, ‘we can deal with that later. What I’m talking about now is that pride of yours. When the hell are you going to knock it out, step over it and start doing what’s necessary around here?’
Bristling, Anthony said, ‘And what exactly would that be?’
‘You know as well as I do that it’s time you asked for help. OK, I get that might be a problem for a guy like you, you want to make a go of this place on your own, sole owner, self-made man and all that, but it isn’t happening, Anthony. And it won’t if you can’t strike some sort of deal with Wineworks, or pay the workers, or meet all the other commitments you’ve got piling up around you.’
Admiring the frankness, if not the words, Anthony said, ‘I’m on it.’
Bob looked sceptical. ‘Is that so? Then tell me exactly what you’re doing to get yourself out of this mess, because from where I’m standing it really isn’t looking good.’
Tightly, Anthony said, ‘You’re right, it isn’t, but I’ve got a broker handling the sale who happens to have an interested buyer.’
Bob’s eyebrows arched. ‘So that’s your answer? To sell?’
‘It’s the only answer that makes sense. We can’t go on like this, Charlotte’s health has already suffered thanks to all the pressure we’re under, and it sure as hell won’t be improved by what she’s going through now.’
‘She’s getting it sorted …’
‘But how? And at what cost?’
Both men’s faces were pale as they failed to come up with any answers.
‘What I need to do now,’ Anthony said eventually, ‘is put my family first, and the best way I can do that is to sell up here and return to being a barrister.’
Bob frowned. ‘In London?’
‘In London.’
‘You want to bring your children up in London?’
