Mummy's Still Here

by Jeanne D'Olivier

  Brian took me for a well-needed drink following the meeting at a local pub. Another mother who was going through a similar situation herself and who had contacted me via the internet, met us at the pub. She had come to see me on one occasion when I was having contact with M in Luton and whilst her case did not involve sexual abuse, it had left her without residency of her two young daughters. One of the girls was now with her mother and the other with her ex-partner. She was looking for some free advice and I guess Brian was looking for a potential client. Nonetheless, at this time I was glad to celebrate the news that Barry would take the case and fight and with newfound hope, we spent a pleasant few hours sharing a bottle of wine and discussing her case and mine with Brian.

  I had a strange experience whilst we were at the pub. I had gone outside to have a smoke and had got chatting to an older grey haired gentleman who was smoking a cigar. He had teased me that I wasn't really inhaling and wasn't a "serious" smoker - probably a good thing. We were quite near the Courts, so I asked him if he was a lawyer - he had the air of someone in the legal world and I had learned to recognise the signs.

  The stranger then confessed that he was in fact, a Judge. I felt very uneasy as I had just, at his request, given him a brief outline of our case. He told me that it seemed to him that we had suffered a huge injustice on the Island and that this would likely be rectified if the case moved to a UK Court. This information served to raise my hopes further, but I knew that before we could set foot in an English Court, we had first to appeal the Fact Finding at source, back on the Scottish Island that had stolen our life. The Judgment had been made there and must be appealed there but if we won the appeal, we would be in a very strong position to go to the UK Courts and ask for the return of M to my care.

  All in all it had been a successful day and I headed back later, a little more hopeful that at last we had a new plan of action that held some promise.

  Jim and Margaret were delighted that I had had such a positive outcome to the day and we sat up for hours talking. The strain of it all and exhaustion eventually got the better of me though and the tears I had been holding back all week, suddenly burst forth as I shared my endless grief at losing M with my friends. I felt there was hope, but I knew that it would take considerable time to even get into Court and meanwhile I worried about M constantly.

  I flew back to the Island the next day and Dad picked me up from the airport and we went for lunch so that I could feed back to him, in more detail, Barry's plan.

  I noticed how much he had aged through this horrific process. He had always looked younger than his years, despite being in his eighties. He played golf four times a week and took long walks. Despite having a history of heart attacks, he kept himself fit and active but he barely slept now and like me the heavy burden of stress and worry had taken their toll.

  We both clung to the latest flicker of hope, as we had done so many times before. There had to be a solution to something that was so blatantly as wrong as this. The final outcome could not be that M remained with his father, a child abuser for the rest of his childhood. Neither of us could or would accept that.

  Dad had sold almost all of his assets to keep fuelling the fire of legal expense. The bills had got higher, as the stakes had risen. This would be the last legal action he could afford, so it had to work.

  The biggest problem we now faced was that it was now over two years since the original Judgment had been given and that would go strongly against us. The fact that none of the former barristers would appeal, would be held against me, not them. The Court would ask the question as to why we had not appealed sooner. It mattered not that the legal team would not take my repeated instruction to do so.

  Barry had indentified nine possible appeal points, so we were not without a strong case. The strongest point in our favour was the testimony of the Independent Clinical Psychologist who had told the Judge his finding was wrong and to whom M had disclosed in foster care only a few weeks before he was placed in the care of his father. This could be considered new evidence and it was something that Barry intended to rely on most heavily. We were also intending to appeal the Judgment that gave residency to R but if we could first win the appeal against the Fact Find, this would put us in a very strong position in any application to overturn the Residency Order. It was critical that Barry got leave to appeal.

  Another point in our favour was that the Judge who had found for "no abuse" had not heard from a single expert at the Fact Finding hearing but had acted as his own expert. This was particularly poignant because we had been one of his first cases as a Family Law Judge and his background had been in Contract Law, not Family Law. He was no more qualified to Judge child abuse than any man on the street.

  Barry was confident on these two points and the others he had identified, along with strong precedents to support his arguments. He was sure that we would be able to at least get the case relooked at, even if we didn't get permission for a Full Appeal. He was hoping to persuade the Appeal Court Judges to agree to let another expert, one whose speciality was Child Sexual Abuse, to view M's evidence. He believed that he could argue the point that if this person decided he had been abused, then we would get a Full Appeal, but if they did not, then I would have to accept that decision as final which should appeal strongly to the Court and R.

  Barry's strategy was not without risk because we could not rely on the decision of the expert and of course, even if they agreed with the Family Court Judge and proclaimed R's innocence, I would never believe that my son made up abuse at the tender age of five when he first disclosed to me. He had had no points of reference at that time. No child of five can describe child abuse as clearly as M had done and in child's language, without it being true, nor had he ever deviated from his initial allegations, despite the fact that they had flown him back to the Island to re-interview him only months after moving to live with R and at R's request.

  M had modified his stance slightly on the second interview, unsurprisingly as he now lived with R and R had organized the interview with the help of Miss Whiplash, the first Social Worker on the case. M was hardly likely to anger his father by strengthening his allegations against him, whilst he was in his care. That was common sense to anyone, but apparently not the Court on the Island who were quite prepared to accept the second interview as valid.

  Strangely, but again unsurprisingly, I had not been notified that M was to be taken for a second interview and the transcript sent to me following when it had allegedly taken place was not stamped by a Court, dated or signed by the police officer who had interviewed M. This made the whole thing very questionable but even if it was entirely legitimate, M had not withdrawn his allegations entirely. He still claimed that was his father had done in the bath was true and that no-one had coached him. Given that his initial disclosures predominantly related to things that went on in the bath with his father, one can only say that he confirmed that this had happened, even four years after his first disclosure and had not deviated from this position despite the change of residency.

  At this time, I had another, less important, but stressful Court appearance to get through. I had been charged with Failure to Provide by the police who had picked me up one night when I had had only one glass of wine with a meal and accused me of drink-driving. The whole thing had clearly been a set-up because they were parked just around the corner from my father's house which is in a remote part of the Island and on a Friday night at a time when the pubs would have been emptying - a busy time for them. Yet they were located on a slipway close to my father's home apparently waiting for us to return from a meal out.

  When I had been taken in they could not get a reading that placed me over the limit. The police officers had bullied, harassed and threatened me to the point where I had had an asthma attack from the panic. As a result I had not been able to blow into the breathalyser despite my best efforts and when I had agreed to blood being taken, they had told me I had not said the right words. They had then held me
in custody for a night and made sport of the whole event. It was yet another injustice and I felt that they had done it as an act of revenge because we had driven off the Island in broad daylight in front of them and made them look foolish - for which they had been criticised by the Judge.

  This case had yet to come to trial but we had secured a local lawyer who was confident in winning and felt there was little chance I would lose my license, especially as after the first hearing, he had persuaded the Judge to allow me to continue to drive whilst waiting for the trial which had taken a year to come to Court. He had insisted at that time, that I needed my car to travel backwards and forwards to contact to see my son.

  Whilst the whole thing was ludicrous, it was yet another expense for Dad and a severe source of stress for me. If they took my license, it would make it much harder for me in the UK, especially as the house I had found to rent, was not well serviced by buses. I had a strong hunch they were trying to limit my movements as they feared I would try to run with M again. Obviously being without transport would make this more difficult. I had no intention of trying to run. It had had disastrous consequences and anyway we now had two very definite plans of action that could bring M home to me. Why would I put either of these in jeopardy?

  Preliminary hearings on the Failure to Provide charge went reasonably well but the case was not yet decided and would not be before I moved to the UK which I eventually did at the end of March 2011.

  Whilst I was sad to leave our little seaside cottage, I was also relieved to leave the constant reminders of M and to go somewhere far away from the terribly unjust treatment we had received in the Island's courts. I was keen to have a fresh start and I wanted to be near to M and to take up the six hours of regular unsupervised contact as soon as possible.

  I had to have the first of the unsupervised contacts whilst remaining on the Island, due to one of the preliminary hearings and the time it took to get packed and moved.

  For the initial contact, I had flown over and stayed in a hotel. As usual R had made it as difficult as possible to set this up and put endless obstacles in our way. He clearly wanted to wean M off me and hoped that the longer apart we were, the easier it would be. He clearly underestimated the close bond M and I shared and the lengths to which I would go to see him.

  I had suggested flying over to Luton once again and staying in a hotel that had a pool. M loved swimming and without a car, it would be difficult for us to go anywhere to spend the few hours together. This was not a cheap option but without transport, it was the best I could do. I was sure that M would be happy whatever we did and I knew I would. I could not wait to see him alone. I booked a Holiday Inn and a flight over as soon as R agreed to the arrangement. I was to see him on a Sunday half way through March.

  As usual R withdrew his agreement to this arrangement only days before it was due to take place. He suggested they had plans and then insisted he did not want to drive to Luton - a mere forty minute drive for him, as he would have to hang about waiting for M. Suggestions that he go for a meal or a walk whilst waiting for us, were met with contempt. I was after all flying over, staying in a hotel and would be killing time for the rest of the day until I could fly back but as usual Brian told me to go along with whatever R wanted and he insisted I get a taxi to a hotel that was much more expensive but only a few miles from him and stay there. For the sake of seeing M, I agreed. I forfeited the cost of the first hotel and flew over and checked in to R's chosen venue.

  I waited anxiously in the lobby for M to be brought to me for 12. we would eat together, have a swim and maybe go for a walk. R would pick M up at 6pm and we would share our first unsupervised contact together for nearly three years. It would be bliss and I knew from M's recent calls, that he was overjoyed at the prospect and counting the days.

  It was nearly three weeks now since I had last seen him, due to R messing about over the arrangements and his lawyer being conveniently unavailable.

  M ran from his father and straight into my arms and we hugged each other tightly. R then told me he would pick him up at 5pm, giving me only five of my agreed six hours.

  "But I have six hours contact." I protested.

  "It will be too late when he has school the next day." R said coldly. "Please." I begged. "I haven't seen him for three weeks. It will only take a short time for him to get home and he can still be in bed by 8pm. I'll give him his supper here."

  "I'll collect him at 5." R repeated and walked from the building before I could object further. There was nothing to be done. It was Sunday. Even if I could have contacted Brian and got him to speak to R's lawyer, I was not going to waste any of my precious time with M in doing so. R knew that I was powerless and that he was in total control. He had acted out of spite alone. He cared nothing for how M felt who pleading with R, "Please Daddy, can't I stay with Mummy still six?" R remained cold and emotionless and I had to bite back my anger as I had done so many times before. Then it had been because of the Social Worker's callous treatment of us. They, at least, were duty bound to give us our allotted contact time, even when they made it as difficult as possible. R was under a Court Order to do so, but he had no intention of complying. He was protected by all and had no fear of consequences. He was merely biding his time until he could cut me out completely.

  Determined to make the most of the time we had, M and I went to my room so that we could chat freely for the first time in years. We were both excited but he was also very tearful. He told me that he still wanted to come home to me and whilst he gave little away about his life with R, clearly having been told not to, possibly even under threat, he made no bones about telling me how much he loved and missed me and wished he could live with me. I have to say that whilst I was distraught that he was clearly so unhappy and I hated that, I was relieved that despite the alienating tactics that I knew R would already be employing to brainwash my son against me, he remained as loving towards me as he had always been. I knew many parents who had lost residency to their former partners were not so fortunate.

  I was keen that M enjoyed every second of our time together and after we had eaten the food I had bought nearby on arrival, knowing the kind of picnic lunch M would want - the usual Sushi, fruit and other snacks that were his favourites and not wanting to waste time waiting for restaurant food, we ate in my room. After opening the gifts I had brought him and chatting a while longer, we went to the small hotel pool to swim. It was nothing like as suitable a pool as the one in the Holiday Inn would have been, as this hotel, being very upmarket was designed more for older guests without children and the hotel had only a small spa pool.

  This was a minor problem though. We were together, alone and could talk freely, hug each other as much as we liked and simply spend time together. Even though it was only five hours, it was the longest I had been with my son for three years. There are no words for the joy I felt, but I was shocked to see such a dramatic change in his appearance when he emerged from the changing rooms in his swimming trunks.

  I notice how much thinner than he had become. He had always been a slim and athletic child, but now his ribs stuck out through his little frame. He was pale and looked tired and seemed to have lost the joie de vivre that he had always had in my care. He had withstood so much pain and loss and it showed. He was damaged, physically and mentally, by a brutal system and a cruel Judge who had made a terrifyingly bad decision. As his mother it cut me to the core.

  It was also very apparent from things M was asking me, that he had been given a series of questions that R wanted answers to. He quizzed me repeatedly about my plans - especially whether I was going to appeal. He was apologetic and embarrassed by asking as if he did not want to. I told him that I could not discuss adult matters with him but that he must know that if he wanted to be with me, I would do all in my power to make that happen.

  M reeled off questions in quick succession, clearly wanting to get them out of the way so that he could tell his father he had done as asked and still enjoy his time with
Mummy. Again I felt anger that R was using him this way, but I changed the subject as fast as I could and M accepted that I was not prepared to discuss anything to do with the legal process with him. He looked relieved that now he had satisfied his father's requests, he could enjoy the limited time we had together.

  The hours passed like seconds, ticking away our precious time together. We went down to the lobby and played games on his I-pad after swimming and momentarily forgot where we were in our excitement at having these golden moments for which he had longed since our cruel separation.

  R arrived early, predictably, at 4.45pm. He led a weeping M away. I could do nothing. I hugged my son as tightly as I could, told him I would soon be living in England and would see him every week. We said our "I love yous" and he was gone.

  I was left bereft as always. I headed back to my room and went through the motions of writing up the notes that Brian insisted I wrote following each and every contact. I hated doing it, but I always got it done immediately whilst everything was fresh in my mind and to get it over with. Why should seeing my son involve writing these endless reports? Unfortunately though, it was the only way possible of having any defence against any further lies R may tell.

  I flew back to the Island the following day and began the process of packing up our little cottage, arranging my possessions into boxes ready to move and saying goodbye to the life we had once had.

  As I packed up M's teddy bears, toys, favourite dressing up outfits, what was left of his clothes and life before into boxes to be stored above my father's garage, I remembered with sadness and longing what each and every object had meant to us.

  I could still see him wearing the Harry Potter glasses that he refused to take off whenever we left the house, carrying a large imitation broomstick and playing Quiditch in the car park with his best friend - whose mother had been like a sister to me. Sadly she was another a casualty of what had happened to us. She had been pressurised by Social Services and encouraged to break all ties with us or face the consequences of intervention into her life or her chosen career as a children's nurse.