I Miss Mummy: The true story of a frightened young girl who is desperate to go home. Cathy Glass
which you were. I think the duty social worker is trying to cover up for his mistake. He didn’t see your mobile number and now he is blaming you.’ I didn’t say anything. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll put what you have told me in my report,’ Jill said. ‘I’m sure it will be fine.’
I mumbled my agreement, but I was far from reassured. Jill apologized again for having to question me, and said that as soon as she’d spoken to the social services manager, she’d phone Martha and find out when she was planning to visit.
We said goodbye and, replacing the receiver, I remained on the sofa for some moments, deep in thought. I loved fostering, even with all the meetings, training and paperwork, but I really didn’t need the worry of being investigated. I knew how long these investigations could take, and how ‘mud could stick’ once thrown. And while the allegation levelled against me was comparatively minor, and I knew it was in Jill’s capable hands, I still felt pretty bad. It had undermined my professionalism as a foster carer, which I take very seriously, as well as bringing into doubt my own personal integrity.
But I also knew that what I was being accused of, while hurtful and damaging to my reputation, was minor compared to the allegations made against some carers. During their careers approximately 35 per cent of foster carers will be accused of some misdemeanour, and if a child is angry, or a parent is angry that their child is in care, they can make up the most appalling allegations, which can sometimes result in a police investigation.
Leaving the sofa, I joined Alice at the coffee table and, putting aside my own worries, praised her. She had just completed a complicated jigsaw, aimed at ages five to eight, without any help whatsoever.
‘Who taught you to do jigsaw puzzles?’ I asked, impressed.
‘My mummy and grandpa,’ she said. ‘They played with me lots. And my nana. Will you let me see them soon, please?’
‘Oh, love,’ I said, taking one of her little hands in mine. ‘It’s not my decision when you see your family. Let me try to explain.’ Although I had touched on my role when Alice had first arrived, I thought that now she was more relaxed it might be easier for her to understand. ‘I am a foster carer,’ I said, gently. ‘I look after children when they can’t live with their own mummies, daddies or grandparents. I look after children but I don’t make the decisions about where they live or when they can see their families. The social worker and judge make those decisions and I am sure they will say you can see your family soon.’ I smiled. ‘Do you know what a judge is?’
Surprisingly, Alice nodded. ‘The judge tells people what to do,’ she said, ‘and he made my nana cry. I didn’t see him, not like the social worker – I saw her. But the judge and social worker made my nana cry because they said I had to leave Nana and come here.’
I nodded thoughtfully. Alice’s explanation might not be politically correct but it was honest – a child’s-eye view of being brought into care.
‘Why did they do that, Cathy?’ Alice asked, her eyes widening in disbelief. ‘Why did the judge and Martha make me go away from my nana and grandpa? Why are they being horrid to my mummy?’
I looked at her and my heart twisted. This was going to be difficult to explain. ‘They aren’t being horrid, darling,’ I said, gently rubbing her hand between mine, ‘although it might seem like it. The judge and social worker are doing what they think is best for you at present. And they think it is best for you to come and stay with me for a while.’ Had Alice been abused or neglected it would have been easier to explain: I would have had concrete examples as to why she’d been brought into care, and indeed some children who have suffered badly at home are relieved to be in care. As it was, all I had was the original referral, which said Alice’s mother, Leah, had mental health problems exacerbated by using illegal substances, and Alice’s grandparents had been looking after Alice. There was no suggestion that her mother or (heaven forbid) her grandparents had abused Alice.
‘I’ll find out more when I speak to your social worker today,’ I said, trying to reassure Alice as best I could. ‘You’re being very brave.’ I patted her hand and then gave her a hug. ‘Would you like to do another puzzle or play something different?’
‘Another jigsaw, please,’ she said. ‘I like jigsaw puzzles. Mummy used to play with me lots.’ I fetched another couple of puzzles from the toy cupboard and sat with Alice while she completed them. As she worked she talked easily of her mummy, nana and grandpa, mainly describing happy memories of their time together but also expressing anxious thoughts as to where they were now, and if they were upset. I continued to reassure her as best I could, telling her that Nana, Grandpa and Mummy would all be looking after each other. I noticed Alice hadn’t mentioned her dad. The referral contained the name, but no other details, of Alice’s father, Chris, so I assumed Alice had been brought up by her mother and maternal grandparents. Alice didn’t say any more about the four days and three nights she had been missing with her mother and I didn’t ask her. She would tell me in time, as she felt more relaxed.
As I played with Alice I was waiting, hoping, for the social worker to phone with, among other things, the arrangements for Alice to see her family. When a child first comes into care, contact is usually set up immediately – often the same day or certainly the next day, so that the bond between the child and the parents (or whoever the main carer has been) doesn’t suffer. But when Martha phoned an hour later, I was shocked, and at a complete loss to understand the reasoning behind what she told me.
‘There will be no contact with mum,’ she said. ‘And none is planned for the future. Contact with the grandparents will be for one hour every two weeks, supervised at the family centre. Contact with Alice’s father will be twice a week, increasing to include overnights, until Alice goes to live with him next month.’
‘The first contact with dad and his new wife, Sharon, will be tomorrow,’ Martha, Alice’s social worker, continued. ‘At the family centre, from two to four p.m. Contact is being supervised at present, but only for the time being. Alice will be at nursery, so you will need to collect her early on the days she has contact. I’ll give you the other details when I see you later today. I’ll also try to get some of Alice’s clothes and toys from the grandparents. I assume you’re in all afternoon?’
‘I can be. I thought I might take Alice to the park for a while, as it’s a nice day. Do you know roughly what time you’ll be coming?’
‘No,’ Martha said. ‘I’ve got a lot to deal with here first. This case has taken over, with the abduction and the police being involved. Your link worker told me what Alice said about sleeping at the quarry. Thank God Leah didn’t do anything silly. Although any chance she might have had of having Alice returned to her has now gone.’
‘Has it really?’ I asked. ‘Alice seems to have a very strong bond with her mother. She has lots of happy memories. And Leah seems to have done a good job of parenting Alice in the past. How did it all go so badly wrong?’
‘I don’t know,’ Martha said. ‘I’ve only been on the case two weeks, but I know enough to know that the sooner Alice is settled with her father the better. I’ll see you later. I expect it will be after four.’
‘Could you bring the essential information forms with you, please?’ I asked quickly before she finished. ‘And a copy of the care plan.’
‘Unfortunately not. I told your link worker that our computer is down. I’ll tell you what you need to know when I see you, and the rest will follow. How is Alice after her ordeal?’
‘Coping very well, considering…’
‘Good. Say hello to her from me. See you later. Bye.’
I replaced the receiver and went down the hall. I had