Innocent. Cathy Glass
breaths,’ I told her. She did, and then slowly straightened. ‘Do you feel a bit better?’
She nodded. ‘Good girl.’ I took a wipe from the bag and cleaned her face and hands. I had one eye on the door to the Family Centre, hoping the parents wouldn’t leave until the children were safely in the car. Kit was looking very anxious too.
‘It’s all right, love,’ I reassured him. ‘Molly’s better now.’
‘I am better,’ she told him.
‘Big girl,’ I praised her. She was being so brave; most children her age would panic if they were sick, but she seemed to be coping very well.
‘Can I have some water?’ she asked.
‘Yes, of course.’ I took the water bottle from the bag and handed it to her.
She took a few sips and passed it back. ‘Mummy gives me water when I’m sick.’
‘Do you feel well enough to get in the car now?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ came her small reply.
I helped them both into their seats and fastened their harnesses. ‘OK?’ I asked her again.
‘Yes.’ She managed a small smile. It was the first time I’d seen her smile and I kissed her cheek.
‘It’s like being at home,’ she said. I guessed she meant my kiss.
‘Does Mummy kiss your cheek?’
‘Yes. After I’ve been sick she gives me lots of kisses.’
‘To make you feel better.’ I smiled. ‘Are you often sick?’
She nodded. ‘Lots.’
‘Don’t worry. We’re going to try to find out what’s making you sick and stop it.’ I kissed them both and then closed their car door and got into the driver’s seat. Just in time, for as I pulled away Filip and Aneta came out of the Family Centre, heads down and looking dejected. I felt sorry for them, I really did, but if they were all going to enjoy contact Aneta would need to make a big effort to contain her emotions – as Filip had done – for the sake of their children. Making a child leave contact so distraught that she had vomited was unkind and couldn’t be repeated. It was of course possible that it wasn’t distress that had caused Molly to be sick, but at that point it seemed the most likely cause. She wasn’t showing any signs of an allergic reaction and the sickness had passed quickly. She’d wet herself twice yesterday from distress and now she’d been sick. Young children can’t verbalize or deal with their distress in the same way adults can, so it comes out in physical ways or through challenging behaviour. When I got home I’d enter everything I’d given the children to eat and drink in the food diary, although I was pretty sure that Molly vomiting now was from upset.
As I drove, I kept glancing at the children in the rear-view mirror. The colour had returned to Molly’s face and, while not laughing, they had both calmed down. They were pale-skinned anyway, but Molly had gone as white as a sheet earlier when she’d been sick. About five minutes from home they both fell sleep – exhausted from a disturbed night and the distress at contact. I felt bad waking them, but they needed dinner before they went to bed, so, once parked on the drive, I gently woke them, then helped them out of the car. I let us in to the welcoming smell of spaghetti bolognese. Lucy and Paula appeared in the hall. ‘Dinner’s ready,’ Paula said.
‘Thank you so much.’
Both girls took over and I was so pleased to have their help. They slipped off the children’s jackets and shoes and carried them to their chairs at the dining table. Five minutes later we were all eating. A large plate of spag bol was in front of me, topped with parmesan and garnished with salad, together with a mug of tea. I was truly grateful.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said again.
When we fostered older children or teenagers there was a limit to how much help my children could give, but now, with two little ones, they came into their own. Lucy fed Kit and Paula helped Molly, who seemed none the worse for her ordeal and ate.
‘This is delicious,’ I said, and made a mental note to include the ingredients in the children’s food diary.
‘I’m collecting a car tomorrow,’ Adrian announced as we ate.
‘Are you?’ I knew he’d been saving for a car for a while, but I didn’t know he’d been looking for one. The old banger he’d had at university had given up some time ago.
‘It belongs to a guy at work,’ he said. ‘It was his elderly mother’s, but she died and he wants to get rid of it quickly. It’s only done a few miles. It’s a bargain.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said.
‘As long as her ghost doesn’t haunt it,’ Lucy put in.
Adrian paused from eating to look at her. ‘How does a ghost stay safe in a car?’ he asked. I’d heard this joke before but couldn’t remember the punchline. Neither apparently could Lucy or Paula.
‘Go on, tell us,’ Lucy said.
‘Puts on its sheet belt!’ Adrian said. We all laughed.
‘What’s a ghost’s favourite dessert?’ Paula asked.
‘I scream,’ Adrian replied. ‘What kind of roads do ghosts haunt?’
There was silence as we thought. ‘Dead ends,’ he said, and we groaned.
‘What did the polite ghost say to her child?’ Lucy asked.
I knew this one. ‘Don’t spook until your spooken to!’ I said. We laughed again and little Kit chuckled. He obviously didn’t know what he was laughing at as he was too young to understand the jokes, but it was lovely to hear him chuckle and see his little face light up. However, when I looked at Molly I saw she was anxious. ‘Are you all right, love?’ I asked, wondering if she was feeling ill again.
‘We’re not allowed to laugh when we eat,’ she said seriously. ‘Mummy says it makes us sick.’
‘That’s sensible,’ I said. Although it seemed a bit harsh to me – never laughing at the meal table. I guessed Aneta worried more than the average mother about her children because they’d been ill so often. When I’d fostered a child with severe asthma, I was very watchful and overprotective. It was only natural as a parent or carer.
The children looked exhausted, so once we’d finished eating I said it was time for their bath and bed. Lucy and Paula were keen to help and came upstairs with me, while Adrian said he’d see to the dishes and was going out later. In the bathroom it soon became clear that I was superfluous, as Lucy and Paula took over. I hung around as they bathed the children, dressed them in their pyjamas and brushed their teeth. Once in their bedroom, Paula sat on Molly’s bed to read her a story while Lucy settled Kit in his cot.
‘You go down and get on with what you need to do,’ Lucy said. ‘We’re OK here.’
‘Yes, go on, Mum,’ Paula encouraged. ‘We can manage. We’ll call you if we need you.’
‘OK, thanks.’ I kissed Molly and Kit goodnight and came out, leaving their bedroom door open. I had a long list of things I needed to do so was grateful for the opportunity.
Downstairs, Adrian was in the hall about to go out and I thanked him for his help.
‘See you tomorrow,’ he said, kissing my cheek. ‘I expect you’ll be in bed before I’m back.’ It was Friday and he and Kirsty usually went out somewhere.
I wished him a good evening and told him to say hi to Kirsty for me, and then I went into the kitchen. First, I wanted to sort through the bag of medicines I’d been given for Molly and Kit. The contact supervisor had said she didn’t think any of it was needed now, so I’d put the bag