by Cathy Glass
Lucy and Paula, in their pyjamas, appeared at the bedroom door and hesitated, uncertain if they should disturb us.
‘Come in and say hello to Alice,’ I said quietly.
They crept in, to the side of the bed, and gazed down at her. Their gasps said it all. ‘Oh! Oh, look at her. She’s so sweet.’
Alice’s big eyes moved from my face to theirs.
‘This is Lucy and Paula,’ I said. ‘They live here too.’
‘Hi, Alice,’ the girls whispered. They knelt beside her bed.
I heard the front door close as the duty social worker returned from his car. ‘Could you stay with Alice for a moment while I speak to the social worker?’ I asked the girls. ‘I shouldn’t be too long.’
It wasn’t a question that needed answering. Lucy and Paula immediately took over, Lucy soothing Alice’s forehead as I had been doing, while Paula took hold of her little hand, which still lay against her chin.
‘I’m just going downstairs to speak to the man who brought you here,’ I said to Alice. ‘Lucy and Paula will stay with you.’ While it might have been obvious to us and an older foster child what was happening, it wouldn’t necessarily have been obvious to a traumatized four-year-old, who might have thought I was disappearing for good and that Lucy and Paula would follow me, leaving her alone in a strange room.
Alice’s gaze briefly flickered to me as I stood, and then returned to Lucy and Paula.
Downstairs I found the duty social worker already in the sitting room, seated in the armchair and using his briefcase to rest on as he completed a form.
‘What’s your full name, and postcode?’ he asked as I entered, his terseness returning. I told him. ‘And I placed Alice at ten twenty-five p.m. on 25 March,’ he said, glancing at his watch.
I nodded and sat on the sofa.
‘Who else is in the house?’
‘Just my children and me,’ I said, surprised.
‘I need their names for this form.’
‘Adrian, Lucy and Paula. Lucy is my foster daughter.’
‘And their ages?’
‘Fourteen, twelve and ten.’
He wrote, and then asked: ‘No husband or partner?’
‘No.’ Had Alice been placed during the day, all this information should have been available, supplied by Jill or the social services, but without access to the file I assumed he was completing a placement form for his agency.
He wrote some more, I didn’t know what, and then put the form in his briefcase and snapped the lid shut. ‘Alice’s social worker will contact you on Monday,’ he said and stood, ready to go.
‘Do you not have any other information about Alice?’ I asked quickly.
‘No. Don’t you?’
‘All I have is the original referral, which doesn’t say much. Do you know if Alice has an allergies or special needs?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said with a shrug, ‘so we’ll have to assume she doesn’t, although I should go easy on the peanut butter.’ I didn’t appreciate his stab at humour. Even if a child arrives in the middle of the night as an emergency I’m usually told of anything that could affect the child’s health like allergies or asthma. And given that Alice’s move to me hadn’t been an emergency but had been planned (although it had gone badly wrong at the end, with Alice being snatched), I’d have thought Martha would have had time to print out the essential information and leave it with the duty social worker – or was that expecting too much?
‘I’ve got to go,’ the duty social worker said, heading towards the sitting room door. ‘A runaway teenager has been found on the other side of the county. I’m the only one on call to collect him.’
I nodded, but while I sympathized with his obviously very heavy workload, my concerns were with Alice, and I persisted in trying to find out more about her background that might help me to look after her. ‘Who took Alice to the police station?’ I asked, following him down the hall.
‘Mum’s boyfriend, I think,’ he returned over his shoulder; then, hand on the doorknob, he let himself out.
‘Goodnight,’ I called after him as he went down the front path, but he didn’t reply. He was already taking his mobile from his jacket pocket and answering the next call.
‘Yes, I’m on my way,’ he snapped. ‘But I can’t be in two places at the same time.’ I thought that if I ever won the jackpot on the lottery I’d use some of the money to fund more social workers so they could do their jobs properly and didn’t have to be in two places at the same time.
Chapter Four
Normal?
Upstairs again, I joined Lucy and Paula at Alice’s bedside. I stood for a few moments gazing down at Alice as Lucy stroked her forehead and Paula held her hand. Alice’s expression still held the same wide-eyed bewilderment and amazement, but I thought she looked slightly less anxious, and at least she wasn’t crying. The girls were talking to her gently, telling her their names again and that she would be staying with us for a while, and reassuring her it was a nice house and she would be happy. Alice stared at them with her big brown eyes, occasionally shifting her gaze from one to the other, as she had to me when I’d come into the room, but she didn’t speak.
Nestled beneath the duvet and pink blanket, with only her little face peering out, she reminded me of a little babushka doll, swaddled, with her cheeks red against her pale skin. I was going to leave the pink blanket on her bed, for although it wasn’t needed for warmth (she had the duvet), I assumed the blanket was familiar to her and would therefore be a source of comfort now everything else was unfamiliar. But I wondered where the blanket had come from, for Alice had been staying with her grandparents when she’d been snatched, and according to the duty social worker, she’d been taken to the police station by her mother’s boyfriend. I’d no idea where he lived or how he fitted into Alice’s life.
Adrian’s bedroom door opened and he appeared in the doorway of Alice’s room in his pyjamas and dressing-gown. ‘Mum, do you know it’s nearly eleven o’clock?’
I nodded. ‘Come and say hello to Alice. Then we’d all better try and get some sleep.’
At fourteen years of age I’m sure Adrian would have preferred it if a boy his own age had come to stay, but when he saw Alice his face melted. ‘Hi, Alice,’ he said with a little wave. ‘I’m Adrian.’
Alice’s eyes flickered from the girls to him and the briefest of smiles crossed her lips.
‘She likes you,’ Paula exclaimed, and I wondered if Alice’s extended family had included a boy of Adrian’s age with whom she’d had a close bond, so she now felt comfortable with Adrian. I knew from the referral that Alice didn’t have any siblings; perhaps there’d been a cousin, or perhaps her mother’s boyfriend had helped in her care?
‘Adrian is my son,’ I explained to Alice. ‘He lives here too.’
Alice’s eyes darted to me and then returned to Adrian. He smiled and waved again and she smiled back. The four of us then stood for a moment, grouped around the bed, gazing down at Alice. The poor child was the star attraction but she didn’t seem to mind.
‘I think we need to get some sleep soon,’ I said presently, as reluctant as the children were to leave.
Adrian made a move first and, giving Alice another little wave, said, ‘Goodnight, Alice.’ Alice’s gaze followed him out of the room.
‘And you two,’ I said to Lucy and Paula, who I’m sure would have happily spent all night with Alice, petting and reassuring her.
‘Goodnight,’ they said at last, and took it in turns to kiss her forehead.
Alice’s big round eyes blinked, her long dark lashes dusting her cheek like a butterfly’s wing. ‘They’re going to their bedrooms to sleep now,’ I explained to Alice. ‘You’ll see them in the morning.’
Lucy and Paula kissed Alice again and, with more goodnights, finally moved away from her bed. Alice’s gaze followed them until they were out of her line of vision and they left her room.
‘OK, love,’ I said gently to Alice, leaning over th
e bed. ‘I want you to try and get some sleep. You must be very tired. I’ll leave your bedroom door open a little so I can hear you if you wake in the night. Do you usually sleep with your light on or off?’ Although I didn’t expect a reply – Alice was too overwhelmed to make a decision about lighting – I always ask the children I foster this on their first night, for so many are afraid of the dark. ‘I’ll leave the light on low,’ I said. ‘Is that all right?’
Her big eyes blinked, but she didn’t say anything.
‘All right, pet, I’ll see you in the morning. I’m going to my bed now.’ I kissed her forehead, tucked her in and moved away from the bed.
She watched me as I walked slowly to the door and I smiled. ‘Night, love. See you in the morning.’
Dimming the light to a level that allowed her to see but wouldn’t keep her awake, I said a final goodnight and came out, leaving the door half open. I waited on the landing, expecting her to cry out now she was alone, but she didn’t. She was very quiet and didn’t make a sound. From where I stood on the landing, with her door half open, I could see her, although she couldn’t see me unless she turned her head. She lay on her back, very still, and as I watched, her long eyelashes flickered and then closed in sleep. She was utterly exhausted, which was hardly surprising considering what she had been through.
I now crept along the landing and into Paula’s room to kiss her goodnight.
‘I feel so sorry for Alice,’ Paula said as I perched on the bed, her face clouding. ‘She’s so little to be without her mummy.’
‘I know, love, but we’ll look after her and make sure she’s all right.’
Paula’s face immediately brightened. ‘Yes, we will. And I’ll get up tonight if she’s upset and look after her. You can stay in bed.’
I smiled. My family were used to disturbed nights when a child first arrived, but they didn’t always offer to get up. ‘That’s very kind of you, love,’ I said. ‘But it’s important you get your sleep, with school in the morning. There’ll be plenty of opportunity for you to help look after Alice – after school and at the weekends.’ I paused. ‘But Paula, you do realize that I don’t know how long Alice will be with us? It could only be a few weeks.’ For already I could see that my family were going to get very attached to Alice, and very quickly.
Paula nodded. ‘I know, Mum, but I hope she stays a long time.’ Then she yawned.
‘OK, love, off to sleep now.’ I kissed her goodnight, tucked her in, and then came out and went into Lucy’s room.
Lucy was propped in bed, listening to her Discman. ‘Lucy, it’s far too late to be listening to that,’ I said. ‘You’ve got to get up for school in the morning.’
She immediately switched off her music and took out her earpieces – a vast improvement from when she’d first arrived, nearly a year before, when she’d bucked against authority and argued and debated about absolutely everything I (or her teachers) had asked her to do. Now she placed the Discman and headphones on her bedside cabinet and snuggled down, ready for me to tuck her in and say goodnight.
‘I wonder why Alice has come into care.’ Lucy said as I kissed her forehead.
‘I’m not sure exactly. Her mother couldn’t look after her, so she’s been staying with her grandparents.’
‘‘Well, they’ve done a good job. She looks normal.’
‘What do you mean “normal”?’ I asked, smiling.
‘You know, like someone has looked after her. Not like I was. My aunts didn’t care a toss. They didn’t do anything about my nits, even when the school nurse sent me home with a letter. It was awful going to school and scratching my head the whole time. All the other kids laughed. I remember sitting in lessons and trying not to scratch, but in the end I had to ‘cos it itched so much. And I stank. I knew I did. My clothes were filthy. I tried to wash them at home but I was only allowed to use cold water.’
I took Lucy’s hand between mine, as I had done so many times during the past year, when she’d wanted to talk about the sad memories of her deprived childhood – the severe neglect she’d suffered for as long as she could remember. ‘I can only guess how awful that time must have been for you,’ I said quietly. ‘But thankfully it is past now, and will never return. You did so well coping with all of that. I’m sure I wouldn’t have coped so well.’
‘You would if you had to,’ Lucy said thoughtfully. ‘You just get on with it and take each day as it comes. I always made sure I found one good thing in each day. It didn’t matter how small it was as long as it was good and made me happy. One day a girl at school gave me a crisp from her packed lunch – that was a really good thing. And another time I was chosen by the teacher to collect the brushes at the end of the art lesson – that was a very big good thing. But sometimes it was the small things that were good, and maybe you wouldn’t notice them if you weren’t looking for something to make you happy. Like the bud of a flower just about to open in spring, or a bird flying off with a twig in its beak to make a nest, or writing a poem you’re really pleased with. There are so many good things in the world to make us happy, but sometimes you have to look very hard to find them.’
I pressed Lucy’s hand between mine and swallowed the lump rising in my throat. Lucy had such a beautiful way of putting things, I wondered if it was as a result of her suffering, if it had sharpened her senses, for I doubted the average twelve-year-old would have such insight. ‘Nevertheless, Lucy,’ I said, ‘you had a lot to cope with, and you coped very well. I’m just so pleased that that time is past and you found your way to me.’
‘So am I,’ she said. Throwing her arms around me, she gave me an extra big hug.
Having said goodnight to Lucy and come out of her room, I hovered on the landing again, outside Alice’s door. It was quiet but I wanted to check on her so, easing the door open, I crept in. She was still on her back, fast asleep, with one little hand pressed to her chin. Relaxed in sleep, her lips were slightly parted, and I could hear the faintest whisper of her breath. What memories of her past would Alice have, I wondered; not only of the days when she was missing but from the four years before that? – her short life to date. Would her memories be like Lucy’s, which were similar to those of many of the children I’d looked after? – memories of severe neglect and abuse. I doubted it. Something told me Alice’s story would be very different, although I doubted it would be any less upsetting.
Chapter Five
‘Mummy Things’
Convinced I’d have a disturbed night, after checking on Alice I went straight to bed, hoping for a couple of hours’ sleep before she woke, distressed at finding herself in a strange room. I woke at 1.30 a.m. and, although I couldn’t hear Alice crying, I wondered if she’d called out and I’d subconsciously heard her. But when I went round to her room she was fast asleep, now curled on to her side, but still with one little hand pressed against her chin. I returned to bed and woke again just after 4.00. I immediately checked on her, but she was still asleep. At 6.00, when my alarm clock went off, Alice remained asleep, having slept far better than I had.
It was Monday, a school day, so I needed to get going – showering and dressing, and then making the two packed lunches before I woke Adrian, Paula and Lucy. However, I also wanted to be with Alice when she woke so that I could reassure her, for I could imagine how frightening it would be at her age to wake from a deep sleep, alone in a strange room. She probably wouldn’t even remember how she got there the night before. I continued my normal weekday morning routine but interrupted it every ten minutes or so to check on her. Quickly showering, and with a towel wrapped round me, I checked on Alice. I hurriedly dressed in my bedroom and then checked on Alice. I went downstairs, fed Toscha and put the kettle on; then I returned upstairs to check on Alice. I made the packed lunches and checked on Alice. Then at 6.45, as I again peered into her room, I was rewarded by seeing her eyes flicker open, followed by a big yawn.
I had been right to be concerned. The second Alice woke and saw unfamiliar surroundings s
he sat bolt upright in bed and cried, ‘Nana!’, her voice tiny with fright.
I was immediately by her bed. ‘Hello, love,’ I smiled. ‘It’s all right. You’re safe. I’m Cathy. You came to my house late last night.’
Alice looked at me with the same wide-eyed amazement she had the night before. She was completely overwhelmed, and probably wondering why and how I’d been summoned into her life like a genie from a lamp.
‘There’s nothing for you to worry about,’ I continued, kneeling by the bed and taking one of her little hands in mine. ‘You are staying with me for a while. I’m a foster carer. Do you remember seeing Adrian, Lucy and Paula last night? They are in their beds, still asleep.’
She looked at me and blinked. ‘Nana?’ she asked in the same small voice, her eyes widening further. ‘Where’s my nana and grandpa?’
‘They’re fine, love, they’ll be at home in their house. I expect they are waking up, just like you.’ I’d obviously no idea where her grandparents were or what they were doing, but this seemed the most likely option and would, I hoped, reassure Alice. ‘Nana and Grandpa know you’re here,’ I added, feeling she should know this and that it might help.
Alice blinked again and then her face began to crumple. ‘I want Nana and Grandpa,’ she cried, tears springing from her eyes.
‘Oh, love, don’t be upset,’ I soothed, putting my arm around her and holding her close. ‘You’ll see Nana and Grandpa soon.’ Again, I had to assume this would be so for, given that Alice’s grandparents had been her main carers for the last six months, I expected the social services to arrange contact so that Alice could see them within the next day or so. My reassurance seemed to help. The tears stopped and Alice’s face brightened a little. ‘That’s better, love,’ I said, and I cuddled her.
Aware we would be having a very busy day, as soon as I’d woken the rest of the family, I would get Alice dressed and ready. When a child arrives, the first few days are always hectic. Apart from settling the child into our home, all the professionals connected with the case would phone or visit; clothes and toys would need to be collected from home if at all possible, or I would go out and buy new clothes; school and contact arrangements would be clarified; and if there was any reason to believe the child had been physically harmed or was in bad health then an emergency medical would be arranged.
