by Cathy Glass
To my surprise Martha then divulged what I thought should have been confidential information. ‘We’ve asked Leah to do a hair-strand test,’ she said, ‘but she’s refusing at present.’ Jill and I exchanged a pointed glance. Testing a strand of hair is now a reliable and widely used method of determining (among other things) if a person has taken illegal drugs in the last six months and it can identify what those drugs were. It is often used in childcare proceedings, for sadly many children come into care as a result of their parent(s) being drug addicted, and one of the issues is often whether the parent is now clean of drugs as they are claiming.
‘I know why Leah’s refusing to be tested,’ Sharon said smugly. ‘It’s obvious. She knows she’ll be caught out and test positive.’
‘Will you be testing Chris and Sharon?’ Jill sensibly asked Martha.
Sharon looked horrified while Chris said nothing, as he had been doing for most of the meeting.
‘I thought your two tests had already been requested?’ Martha said, looking at Sharon.
‘No! Why?’ Sharon said, her voice rising.
‘Hasn’t your solicitor asked you to go to the clinic for a hair-strand test?’ Martha asked. ‘I’m sure I read somewhere on the file that the forms requesting the drug tests had gone out.’
‘No!’ Sharon cried; then, turning to Chris, ‘We haven’t heard anything, have we?’ Chris shook his head.
‘I’ll leave a note on the file for it to be chased up,’ Martha said calmly, writing on her pad. ‘Sorry, it must have been overlooked. I’m the third social worker on this case and things are getting lost.’ She shook head. ‘You will both need to have the hair-strand test because of Leah’s allegation that Chris got her into drugs.’
‘Bitch,’ Sharon cursed under her breath.
‘Don’t worry,’ Martha said. ‘I didn’t believe her, but the judge will ask for the test. Now, is there anything else?’
‘Paperwork,’ Jill said as Sharon seethed. ‘We still haven’t had the essential information forms, or a copy of the care plan.’
‘I’ll put a note on the file for the new social worker,’ Martha said. I didn’t say anything but Martha had already said she was putting a note on the file to that effect, and I thought the new social worker was going to be reading a lot of notes when he or she finally took up the position.
Before winding up Martha confirmed the contact arrangements: Alice was to see her father and Sharon on Tuesday and Thursday, and her grandparents on alternate Wednesdays, beginning the following week; and she was to have phone contact with the grandparents on Saturdays, beginning the following day. Martha closed the meeting, thanking us for coming, and we all stood. Sharon and Chris hung back to talk to Martha as Jill came away with me.
‘Sharon is certainly a woman with purpose,’ Jill remarked dryly as we walked down the stairs towards reception.
I nodded. ‘I just hope the novelty of being a mother doesn’t wear off once Alice is living with them,’ I said. ‘I mean Sharon’s got fourteen years of parenting before Alice is an adult and I don’t think Chris is going to be contributing much.’
‘No, I got that impression. But then again, if what Sharon is saying is true, and Chris never got the chance to be a father, he might shine and come into his own once he’s in that role.’
‘Yes, he might,’ I agreed. I paused at the bottom of the stairs and turned to Jill. ‘But you know, I can’t help feeling there’s something wrong here. If Leah is as dreadful as we’ve been told, why don’t I see something in Alice? She was living with her mother for the best part of four years. You’d have thought it would have had some effect on her. Alice loves her mother; she hasn’t been neglected and I’m convinced she hasn’t been abused either.’
‘We’ll know more when the new social worker is in place,’ Jill said as we left the building. ‘And having the essential information forms will help.’ Before we said goodbye in the car park and went to our cars Jill said: ‘Oh, yes, and Cathy, about the complaint the duty social worker made against you: I’ve sent in my report, and we should hear in a couple of weeks. But don’t worry, I’m sure it will be fine.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Although to be honest, I haven’t had time to worry about that. I’ve been more concerned about Alice. I hope living with her father and Sharon is the right thing. Alice is such a little treasure, I feel very protective and want what’s best for her.’
‘Fortunately it’s not your decision,’ Jill said, which was her way of gently telling me to concentrate on looking after Alice and stop worrying about things over which I had no control.
And I tried to do as Jill had said, until Saturday evening, when I phoned Alice’s grandmother for Alice’s telephone contact and heard her breakdown and sob.
Chapter Fourteen
A Beam of Love
‘I’m so sorry,’ Alice’s grandmother said, between sobs. ‘Alice can’t hear me, can she?’
‘No, don’t worry,’ I reassured her. ‘Alice is in another room. I’ll fetch her when you’re ready, and we’ve finished talking.’ As I usually did, I’d made the first contact phone call out of earshot of the child so that I could answer any questions about the child without them hearing. But as soon as I’d introduced myself to Mrs Jones, she’d broken down in tears.
‘Take your time,’ I said. ‘There’s no rush. Alice is playing. I’ll call her only when you’re ready. I appreciate how upsetting all this is.’
‘Oh, do you?’ Mrs Jones said gratefully. ‘Bless you, dear. How kind you must be. This is tearing us apart. Grandpa and I really aren’t coping with losing Alice, not at all.’ I heard her take a deep breath as she tried to control her tears; I really felt for her. Mrs Jones had a warm and gentle voice with a very slight Yorkshire accent. It was the voice of a doting grandmother, kind and caring.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again, after a moment, her voice slightly more even. ‘I’m all right now. I promise I won’t cry when I speak to Alice. The social worker told me not to, and what I can and can’t say.’
Tactfully, I hoped. ‘Please don’t worry,’ I reassured her. ‘I’m sure you know what to say. Would you like me to put Alice on now and we can have a chat after you’ve spoken to her? She’s been looking forward to speaking to you and Grandpa all week.’
‘Has she?’ Mrs Jones said. ‘Bless her.’ I heard her voice catch again. ‘Yes please, put her on. I’ll be fine. Thank you so much.’
I laid the receiver beside the phone and went into the breakfast room, where Paula had been keeping Alice amused with a puzzle. I’d already explained to Alice that I would be speaking to her nana first, and I’d also given Alice a demonstration of how we’d use the phone when it was set to speaker. I now took Alice into the sitting room and she scrambled on to the sofa. I sat beside her and, pressing the ‘handsfree’ button to engage the speaker, I replaced the receiver.
‘Say hello to your nana,’ I said, which Mrs Jones could now hear.
‘Hello, Nana,’ Alice said in a little voice, leaning towards the phone as she spoke, although it wasn’t necessary.
‘Hello, Alice,’ her nana said, putting on a very brave voice. ‘How are you, love?’
‘I want to come home,’ Alice said. ‘I love you, Nana.’
‘We love you too, pet. Very much. Are you being a big brave girl?’
Alice nodded, although of course Nana couldn’t see that. ‘I only cried on the first night,’ Alice said.
‘And you’re all right now, pet?’
Alice gave a very small, ‘Yes.’ My heart went out to her.
‘Good girl. Have you got your clothes and toys? I sent them with the social worker.’
‘Yes,’ Alice said quietly. ‘I helped Cathy put them in my bedroom.’
‘That’s good. And you’ve got Brian the Bear to watch over you at night?’
‘Yes,’ Alice said again. Then she drew a deep breath.
‘Yes?’ Nana prompted. ‘What were you going to say, love?’
&nbs
p; ‘Nana, why can’t I live with you and Grandpa any more? Don’t you want me?’
I heard Mrs Jones’s silence and knew she was fighting back her tears as indeed I was. Dear little Alice, so very innocent, asking her nana if she no longer wanted her: it was heartbreaking. I also guessed Mrs Jones would be struggling with what to tell Alice, given that the social worker would have warned her to keep off the subject of why Alice was in care, so I stepped in and offered some help.
‘It’s natural that Alice will need a lot of reassurance,’ I said. ‘When Alice asked me the same question earlier in the week I told her that you, Grandpa and her mum love her very much but it’s not possible for you to look after her at present. I’ve explained to Alice that I look after children who can’t live with their own parents or grandparents until everything is sorted out.’
‘Yes, that’s right, Alice,’ Mrs Jones agreed; then she added, ‘It wasn’t our decision, love.’
‘Nana, Martha told me it was because you were too old to look after me,’ Alice said.
‘Grandpa and I don’t think we’re too old, but perhaps Martha meant that nanas and grandpas usually have their grandchildren come and visit, not live with them all the time.’ Which I thought was very well put. Mrs Jones then changed the subject, steering it away from Alice being in care, and asked Alice about nursery and her friends and teacher.
I felt so sad, sitting beside Alice and listening to their conversation, as her nana struggled to keep their talk on safe ground and they both fought to control their emotions. I looked at Alice, her eyes round with innocence and not really understanding why she couldn’t be with her beloved nana instead of having to make do with talking on the phone – their first contact since she’d come into care. I listened to Mrs Jones, having to deny her own feelings because the social worker had told her not to cry and upset Alice. I felt it was intrusive and demeaning for her to know I was listening to everything she said and I wondered if my monitoring the phone call was really necessary. The social worker had told me to use the speaker phone, so I had to, yet I struggled with the notion that Alice’s doting nana could say anything remotely detrimental to the well-being of her cherished granddaughter.
After about ten minutes of chatting with her nana Alice looked up at me and said: ‘Am I allowed to speak to my Grandpa?’
‘Of course you’re allowed to,’ I said, concerned that Alice should think otherwise.
‘I’ll fetch him now,’ Mrs Jones said, and we heard a small clunk as she set down the receiver.
I put my arm around Alice and gave her a hug. ‘You’re doing very well,’ I said. ‘You’ll be seeing Nana and Grandpa next Wednesday, which isn’t long now.’
Alice just looked at me with those big brown eyes. I knew my reassurance was of no consolation – she was yearning to be with her grandparents now. We heard another small clunk as the receiver was picked up, and then Grandpa’s voice came on.
‘So how’s my Alice?’ he said with forced brightness. ‘And how’s Brian the Bear? Has he won any matches lately?’
‘I don’t play with him now,’ Alice said quietly.
‘But you’ve got him with you?’
‘He’s in my bedroom.’
‘Well, that’s good. He’ll be keeping you safe at night. Have you told Cathy he sits with you when you watch the football?’
‘I don’t watch the football here,’ Alice said.
‘But you’ve got a television there?’ Mr Jones asked. ‘Can’t you ask to have it on?’
Alice nodded, which obviously Mr Jones couldn’t see, so I thought I should say something. ‘Hello, Mr Jones,’ I said. ‘Cathy here, Alice’s carer.’
‘Hello, Cathy, pleased to meet you.’
‘And you. We can talk more later, when you’ve finished speaking to Alice, but if you could tell me a bit more about the football Alice watches, I can make sure she doesn’t miss it in future.’
‘That’s kind of you, Cathy,’ Mr Jones said. ‘Thank you for looking after Alice.’ I didn’t say anything. I always feel uncomfortable when someone thanks me. ‘I hope we’ll have the chance to meet you soon.’
‘Next Wednesday,’ I confirmed. ‘I shall be bringing Alice to contact at the family centre.’
‘That’s good. Now, about the football and Brian the Bear. Alice might have told you I am a football fan and I used to support Nottingham Forest. I don’t go to the matches any more, but Alice and I always watch the football on television on a Saturday afternoon. And we always have Brian the Bear, our lucky mascot, with us. We’ve been doing this since Alice was a toddler, even before she came to live with us. Alice’s mum, Leah, used to visit every Saturday afternoon and while she was talking to Nana, Alice and I would watch the football. I’ve always watched it with Alice, always.’ He paused and took a breath. ‘I couldn’t put the television on this afternoon,’ he said. ‘Not alone. I couldn’t watch the football without Alice.’ His voice broke and I heard a sob; Alice heard it too.
‘Don’t cry, Grandpa,’ she said, her own voice quivering. ‘I’ll watch the football with you again soon, I promise.’
There was a moment’s silence as Mr Jones fought to regain control. Then in a broken voice he said: ‘Sorry, love, I’ll put Nana back on.’ He left the phone in tears.
I hugged Alice, who was close to tears herself. She rested her head against me as I swallowed the lump in my throat. It’s never easy when a child first starts having to speak to their loved ones on the phone, especially for a young child who isn’t used to using a phone, but this was one of the most upsetting phone contacts I’d ever been party to, and I’d monitored plenty during my years of fostering.
After a few moments we heard Nana pick up the phone. ‘Hello, Alice,’ she said, her own emotion carefully under control. ‘Grandpa’s a bit tired. He’s gone for a lie-down. He sends his love and he’ll see you on Wednesday.’
Alice nodded.
Mrs Jones then talked about subjects that were neutral and not likely to upset them – nursery, what Alice was wearing and what she’d had to eat. Mrs Jones asked Alice if there was anything she would like her to bring with her on Wednesday. Alice shook her head sadly; then suddenly she brightened and said: ‘Chutney. I have cheese and chutney sandwiches here, but there’s something wrong with the chutney.’
‘You shouldn’t say that,’ her nana cautioned. ‘It’s not polite.’
‘Ask Nana which brand it is,’ I whispered to Alice, ‘and I’ll buy some the same.’
Alice did. ‘It’s home-made,’ her nana said proudly. My spirits fell, but then rose again as Nana added, ‘I’ve a pot left. I’ll bring it with me on Wednesday and you can have it at Cathy’s.’
‘Thank you very much,’ I said, loudly enough for Mrs Jones to hear.
‘You’re very welcome. Alice loves that chutney. I’ll have to make some more. That’s the last pot. Is there anything else you need?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I said, ‘but when you’ve finished speaking to Alice perhaps we could have a chat and you can tell me about Alice’s likes and dislikes?’
‘Yes, love, that would help put my mind at rest.’
Mrs Jones talked to Alice for another five minutes or so, again searching for safe, non-emotive topics, which wasn’t easy: they were missing each other so much that all topics seemed to lead back to their separation and loss. Mrs Jones asked Alice if she’d like her doll’s pram with her but Alice said, no, she wanted to leave it at her nana’s house so she could play with it there again. Presently her nana wound up. ‘Well, love, I expect it’s getting near your bath and bedtime. We’ll see you on Wednesday. I can’t kiss you goodnight, so shall I send a big kiss down the phone?’
‘Yes please, Nana,’ Alice said.
‘Be ready to catch it, then.’
‘I will,’ Alice said. She moved to the edge of the sofa and, leaning forward, towards the phone, cupped her little hands in front of her, ready to catch the kiss.
‘Are you ready?’ her nana said. �
��Here it comes. Don’t miss it.’
We heard Nana blow a kiss and we waited as it flew down the phone, transported on a beam of love, and landed into Alice’s little outstretched hands. Closing her hands around the kiss, Alice carefully drew it to her face before letting it go on her cheek.
‘I’ve caught it, Nana. I’ve got your kiss.’
‘Good girl. Have you got a kiss for me, love?’
‘I have,’ Alice said. Again she leant towards the phone, then said: ‘Are you ready, Nana? Are you ready to catch my kiss?’
‘Yes, I’m ready, love. I’m here.’
Alice pursed her lips and, drawing a deep breath, blew a big kiss down the phone. We saw it disappear. Borne on the same beam of love that had carried Nana’s kiss to her, Alice’s kiss winged its way down the telephone line to her beloved grandmother, who was waiting to catch it at the other end. ‘Did you catch it, Nana?’ Alice asked after a moment, having given it time to arrive. ‘Did you catch my kiss, Nana?’
‘I did, love, I did. I’ll share it with Grandpa. Night, love, see you on Wednesday.’
‘Night, Nana.’
Chapter Fifteen
A Dreadful Mistake?
I took Alice into the breakfast room to continue playing with Paula and returned to the sitting room, where I closed the door so I couldn’t be overheard. When I picked up the receiver, the speaker phone automatically switched off. ‘Alice is with my daughter in another room,’ I assured Mrs Jones.
I’d intended that we’d spend some time talking about Alice, when I would reassure Mrs Jones as best I could and she would tell me of Alice’s routine and her likes and dislikes, so that I could make Alice’s time with me more comfortable; but Mrs Jones needed to unburden herself and all I could do was listen. She began immediately, with the day Leah had snatched Alice.
‘I told Leah it was the wrong thing to do,’ Mrs Jones said. ‘But she wouldn’t listen. She was so desperate that they’d take Alice away and give her to Chris, and she’d never see her again. I told her she should let Alice go into care and then get her solicitor to sort it out, but she wouldn’t listen.’
