The meeting was unexpected, unarranged and completely illegal given that he was no longer on the case. With the impending hearing, it would have been even more dangerous to proceed with any such meeting. I told him firmly that I was not available and to please leave. He remained in the car outside my house for a good two hours - clearly hoping I would either back down and let him in or would at the very least be intimidated by his presence. In the end I walked over to the car and knocked on the window and told him firmly but politely that if he didn't go away, I would call the police and have him removed for harassment. Only then, did he drive off but the whole thing left me badly shaken and after speaking to Brian, somewhat reluctantly, I documented events as usual and sent them over. He did at least agree, that this was out of order. The relationship between us was strained now to say the least, but at that moment, for the sake of the hearing, we had to remain in touch.
I waited anxiously for the day of the hearing and hoped to God that Brian and the QC would at least fight hard for contact to be re-instated. Should there been any justice whatsoever, R should have been in serious trouble for breaching the Contact Order and been facing a Contempt charge himself, but he appeared to be able to break any order and act in any way without fear of repercussion for his actions. He had everyone in the palm of his hand - all supporting him in his quest to bring me to my knees.
It was on the afternoon before the hearing that I received a second email from the Court. Contrary to what had been said initially, I was informed that the lawyers had now been taken off record. I had no representation and no way of getting there myself, even if I had wanted to. I would be voiceless at the hearing and all I could do was to file my evidence and Position Statement by email and wait nervously to see what the outcome could be - with a growing sense of dread.
The hearing came and went and I had no feedback given that no-one was there on my behalf. All I could do now was wait for any Judgment or Order to reach me and request a recording of the hearing. I needed to know what had been said and by whom.
My future relationship with M now seriously hung in the balance - this hearing was critical in the way things would pan out from now on and I could not even bank on the Judge having read anything I had filed.
I was chastised by the man in France for not going. He had now agreed to help me take matters forward into the English Court. I knew little about him, other than he had a high profile and an ego to match. We had never met. He came across as rather bullying, very insensitive but appeared, at least on the surface to want to help and I had no other options at that time - other than to try and go it alone. I had no legal experience and I felt that any advice must be better than none. I put up with the criticism and decided he could do no worse than the lawyers had done. I was grateful for any assistance, even if it came at the price of being regularly put down.
Another shock was to come to light. I was sent a copy of a transcript of an interview between M and the Island's police force that had allegedly taken place only days before the hearing. The information was sent as an insecure word document, no Court or police stamp, unlike the original ABE interview in which M had disclosed the Sexual Abuse. It was sent to me by the advocate representing the Department of Social Care. One had to question its authenticity and wonder why the necessity to carry this out back on the Island when it would have been usual to use local authorities. Furthermore it made mockery of the Appeal Court's reasoning that M should not be further interviewed in regard to refusing us permission to appeal the Fact Find, in their recent Judgment - a Judgment that had been circulated to all parties, including the Department of Social Care and R himself.
It seemed that if one took this document at face value - my son had been asked questions to try and get an admission of coaching by myself or my father or both. He had denied the allegation repeatedly and had continued to do so even in this Mickey Mouse document. He had however, been asked to retract his original allegations. M had remained steadfast in saying that what happened in the bath - (the abuse), had happened but that he could no longer be sure that his father had harmed him and that he had made it up to help Mummy and Grandad.
This was ludicrous. How on earth would making up child abuse help anyone? What was more, he was only six at the time he was interviewed and would have had no idea how to make up a sexual abuse allegation. Furthermore he had allegedly been interviewed by the same Police Officer and Social Worker who had disbelieved him - he was living with his abuser who taken him out of school, flown him to the Island and arranged for the interview. He clearly stated in the interview that R had said that doing this would help his father. This was much closer to the truth but legally I should have been informed of any interview between my son and the authorities - as usual I had no say, my Parental Rights were violated completely and the law did not seem to apply.
I was powerless against any of this. I sent the document to Christopher, the man who was now assisting me from afar. He said that M's responses were more helpful to me than to R and felt that this would be useful evidence for when we applied for contact in a UK Court, if the Island's Order that was due any day, went against me. He again said that I should have gone to the hearing, but on this point, like so many others to come, I was not of the same mind - yes I had needed a voice at this hearing - but had mine ever been heard? Had M's true wishes and feelings ever been really taken into account? The many times he had pleaded to come home to his Mummy - the wealth of evidence of a happy, well-cared for child by way of photographs, contact notes and testimonials and M's own letters stating "Mummy I love you, please get me back?" Had all fallen on the deaf ears of Court Officers and Judges who appeared to be devoid of any humanity or feeling. Had I attended without a lawyer, I almost certainly would have been jailed for either or both of the Contempt applications and then I would not have been in any position to help by son at all.
Waiting for the Order to arrive was a painful process and it was hard to think of anything else.
I had begun teaching a few students from home, to supplement my meagre income from writing educational materials for EFL, teaching and my little known books.
As a writer, I struggled to make a name for myself against the competition of well-known authors with huge marketing and publicity resources behind them - but writing was second nature to me. I did not write because I wanted recognition - although obviously everyone wants that to some extent - I wrote because I had no choice. I wrote because it was like breathing to me. I had written since I was six years old and wrote my first childish poems and short stories secreted in my room, whilst other children played with dolls and told their stories through make-believe games. I wrote because I simply couldn't not write and I believe to this day that it helped me through my toughest moments. Externalising what threatens to eat you from inside out does at least help you to process what seems beyond the reach of comprehension and logic.
I had managed to secure a few adult clients and taught a few hours a week from home. It did not replace the longing I still held to teach in a school, as I had done in the past and work with the bright young inquisitive minds of youth but it did go a small way to supporting myself - for the rest I was still dependent very much on my poor father who had been as badly affected by this terrible injustice as I, but had borne the incredible financial strain with fortitude and loyalty.
Finally the Order and Judgment arrived, along with a recording of the hearing itself on a disk. The last I listened to with horror as I heard the vitriol spout from R's mouth as he railed against my father and I and asked the Judge to jail me once more and set a date for the Contempt hearing. Each Court Officer backed him up on his decision to stop Contact. It was all predictable and grossly unfair to M and myself but it confirmed to me that my decision not to attend was the right one - I would likely have ended up detained on the Island and at least whilst I had some semblance of liberty, I could fight for Contact in the UK Court.
The Judge had no power to make a fresh Order on the Island,
now that we all resided in the UK. He was a stickler for the rules, if not for morality or integrity and he acknowledged that all he could do was vary his existing Order. This variance would be the beginning of the end for us.
He had decided to make Contact as "agreed between parties" - knowing full well that R would now not need to comply or ever agree - it gave R total control as I had anticipated and all my worst fears were realised. My only hope now was to take matters into the UK Court and make the only application I had made to date and this time with no lawyer. It was a daunting prospect and one I felt seriously unequipped to handle, but I vowed to learn everything I could. I began the painstaking and difficult task of studying Family Law, scrutinizing precedents, reading Judgments, trying to make sense of legalise and preparing to take matters into a Court that Brian had said would be fairer and more sympathetic.
The contempt issue was still very much live on the Island, as was my Appeal against the change of residency, but no date had yet been scheduled for the former and the latter had been set down for a year after R had first got custody. I felt that the delay was deliberate. The longer M remained with R, the weaker my chances of a return to the former status quo. It would be extremely unlikely now that M would ever live with me again in childhood but for the moment I had to focus on getting contact re-established.
Fortunately the whole issue of the Judgment being put on the internet did not come up as I had feared. It would raise its ugly head at a later date, but for now, that was one worry, at least, that seemed to have come to nothing. Whether this was because the Island's Judge had no power to do anything about it or whether they simply chose to ignore it, I will never know, but I was relieved.
I barely heard from M anymore and attempts to contact him were met with an answer-phone that was now full. Sometimes the phone would just ring and ring and my mounting frustration, anger and despair increased daily. I made every attempt to reason with his father by email, offering contact on any terms - including him supervising, his wife, a member of his family and any location he wished. He insisted it was a Contact Centre or nothing and in the end, even though I knew M hated going to these cold unfeeling places, I agreed to this.
R placed every obstacle possible in arranging it, much as I had experienced before. He was determined to cut all ties between myself and my son and I knew he was brainwashing him hard against myself and my father but there was simply nothing I could do. My only hope was to get into the London High Court and have the UK jurisdiction officially declared and proceed with an application there.
During the few calls I did get over the long months it then took to get a date for a listing in the UK, M was subdued, increasingly desperate and behind the so-obviously scripted requests to see me at a Contact Centre - his voice belied a resignation that he himself had given up all hope - It was this that scared me most. I could not tell him I was in the process of filing an application in the UK to give him something to hold onto - R would have stopped any further communication then and there. I could not tell him that I was pleading with R to agree a date for contact at the nearest Contact Centre. I could only reassure him that I loved him and was doing all I could to see him and hope that this would keep him going.
There was only one contact at the local Contact Centre. R had eventually conceded after weeks of my offering every possible scenario to achieve this. As I no longer drove, I had to cycle the five miles from my home with a haversack on my back containing a football and some art materials to provide some amusement for M.
When I arrived at the centre, R was not yet there and I waited anxiously in the reception area. His large imposing black car eventually pulled in and it was some moments before M got out. He walked towards me nervously as if he was scared to engage with me in front of his father, but once inside he put his little arms around me and we hugged each other tightly.
He seemed so small and fragile - a shadow of the child he had once been - the happy confident 7 year old I remembered - the boy who had sung at his grandmother's funeral by his own choice in front of a throng of people - the smiling bubbly cheeky soul who had been a bundle of pure joy. He was now a frightened damaged and confused soul who was trying to make sense of things that would never make sense. He was trying to live within a world that had turned upside down in a moment and where he had lost all those he loved most and who loved him most. It tore my soul to shreds to see him this way, but all I could do was hold him and respond to the quiet polite little voice that came from his sad little heart.
He wanted to stay in the room but there was little we could do inside and neither of us felt like drawing pictures. I pulled the football out of the haversack and suggested we go into the car park and kick it. I assumed R would have left by now and we could run around a little and try to forget the artificiality of the situation. He followed me out with reticence. Unlike me, he clearly knew that his father had intended to stay for the whole hour. The only hour we had spent together now for several months. He sat watching our every move through the window, with a menacing expression and exuding hatred from the short distance between us.
I tried to ignore R's presence and focus only on M. We kicked the ball back and forth without enthusiasm. M was clearly badly affected by his father watching him and kept looking nervously over at the car. I tried my best to be upbeat and distract him. All too soon the time came to an end and his father got out of the car and grabbed M's hand pulling him back to the vehicle barely allowing us a brief goodbye. I called "I love you the world and back" to M's disappearing little form and he yelled the same back to me. In an instant he was gone.
I was left bereft and clutching an envelope with the word "Mummy" scrawled in childish hand on the front, which he had thrust in my hand at the last minute. I opened it to find a lovely card with the words I miss you. I love you the world and back Mummy and many kisses inside. I placed it carefully in my haversack and began the ride home - I would treasure the words forever.
R's version of the contact was wildly different to my own and was sent to the Guardian. It bore no semblance to the reality of what had taken place but was merely a device to say that M no longer wished to see me. As usual and despite the fact that he was no longer officially on our case, he supported R and wrote to me to say there would be no further contact. It was all predictable but it was now even more important to move fast in getting into the UK Court to try and get a new Contact Order. Unfortunately we had to first jump through the legal hoops of getting the jurisdiction change made and it was not until September 2011 that we at last managed to secure a date.
One of the cruel realities of the Family Court is the long delays between hearings on which parents are relying to see their children. Several months for applications to be heard is the norm and in that time untold damage is done to children who are also subject to the long wait and uncertainty of whether they will ever see their parents again.
As I write this, there is so much wrong with this system it beggars belief. Change is afoot but only since the appointment of a new President in the Family Court in the RCJ - The Royal Courts of Justice. Sir James Munby is currently advocating massive changes to the processes and to the way in which decisions are made. He is also against the gagging of innocent and wronged parents, such as myself but he is only one voice and without the support of the government, his recommendations will fail to be implemented. To date, there has been very little change, although cases being heard at this time, as opposed to those that started some years ago as ours did, have a slightly better chance of gaining a fair result but like any radical change to a long established system - it happens painfully slowly and for many will come far too late.
The first hearing we had in London took place in the Family Division of the RCJ at Holborn. I was unrepresented by counsel and R had taken the unusual step of also representing himself. We were at two sides of a room and a decent distance apart, but as always I felt his menacing presence and kept my gaze focused elsewhere.
I shuddered th
at this man who held so much hostility and hatred in his heart was raising my precious little boy. What could he teach him? Other than to hate and destroy all that is good. I could only hope that the seven years I had raised my son would sustain him - that he would keep the values my father and I had taught him of love, truth, honesty and kindness - and not be influenced by living in the pressure cooker environment of R's hostility.
I kept myself focused on the job in hand. I was terribly nervous. I had only represented myself in the Family Court on the Island for a very short time out of necessity when I was waiting for UK counsel to be agreed when mine ended his life, but this time I was fighting for a chance to even see my son, for the rest of his childhood. The stakes were high and I was alone with this task - I felt hugely inadequate and unprepared.
We had to hang about for ages before our case was eventually called and the whole matter was over in minutes. It was decided that Holborn was not the place to hear this, but it must go before a High Court Judge in the main Family Court on the Strand. This meant further delay whilst we waited for another date. It would now be November before we could proceed any further and meanwhile I had lost all contact with M, both direct and indirect. I was faced with an abyss of silence and longing and could only endure this as best I could.
Chapter 7
A Bridge too Far
At last jurisdiction was officially changed and we could now begin to proceed with the most important matter of re-establishing contact between myself and M.
Christopher was now assisting me every step of the way. I found him hard to relate to and very domineering but I valued his staunch support. I bowed to his greater experience of the system and tried to follow his guidance to the letter. He was very much an all or nothing person and it was either do it his way or do it alone. I decided that I was better off with some support in navigating these wildly unchartered and murky waters. He did not come to the initial hearings due to living abroad, but I consulted him on every move I made and ran every statement and email past him.
Mummy's Still Here Page 8
