Where Has Mummy Gone?: A young girl and a mother who no longer knows her. Cathy Glass
habit, and they are regularly found abused and beaten.
Once Melody was asleep I spent time with Paula, Lucy and Adrian and then I wrote up my log notes, including the conversation I’d had with Melody. After that I printed Melody’s name and class in indelible ink in all her school uniform items as the school requested, and at eleven o’clock I fell into bed. I slept well, as did Melody, and the following morning we continued the routine that would see us through the school weeks for however long Melody was with us. I woke everyone, made breakfast for Melody, Paula and myself while Adrian and Lucy – that much older – prepared whatever they fancied. Then, once ready, Melody and I left first, calling goodbye as we went.
When I returned home after taking Melody to school I telephoned Jill to update her. As my supervising social worker she was my first point of contact and we were on the phone for nearly an hour. I told her about the complaints Amanda had made about me at contact and she agreed they were irrational and felt they wouldn’t go any further. I told her what Melody had said about her mother being very forgetful and gave her examples of how she relied heavily on Melody. I said that according to Melody her mother had never brought her clients home and it seemed she hadn’t been sexually abused. Jill said she’d pass all this on to Neave. I said Melody was eating and sleeping well, was in a full school uniform (which is considered important) and was generally settling in well, apart from worrying about her mother.
‘That’s only to be expected,’ Jill said.
‘Yes, except having now met Amanda I can see why Melody is so anxious. Amanda is very needy and appears to have relied on Melody far more than I’ve seen in a parent before. She’s very forgetful and I noticed a vagueness about her, like she zones out.’
‘Drugs?’
‘I don’t know. Melody says she’s stopped using, but perhaps she’s started again.’
‘I’ll tell Neave. She can run a drugs test if necessary,’ Jill said, and winding up the conversation, we said goodbye.
I made a coffee and then returned to the phone and made appointments for Melody to have a check-up at the dentist and optician. I knew from experience that when a child first comes into care this was required. Neave would arrange for Melody to have a medical too.
At the end of school I met Miss May, the teaching assistant who was helping Melody. She accompanied Melody into the playground and to begin with she couldn’t get a word in. Melody had so much to tell me. ‘We did PE and I wore my new PE kit like everyone else,’ Melody enthused excitedly. ‘I’m good at PE, Miss May said. This is Miss May who helps me. She sits with me and the other two boys and we’ve done lots of good work today.’
Miss May laughed. ‘We have indeed. Hello, you must be Cathy.’
‘Yes, nice to meet you. Thank you for all you’re doing to help Melody.’
‘You’re welcome. She’s a delight to work with and works hard, although she has been worrying an awful lot about her mother.’
‘I know, her social worker is aware, and I’ve tried to reassure Melody that her mother can look after herself.’
‘Did you speak to my social worker?’ Melody now asked, her previous excitement replaced by concern.
‘I spoke to Jill and she’s going to talk to Neave, so don’t you worry.’
‘It’s such a shame,’ Miss May said. ‘It’s difficult for me to know what to tell her for the best.’
‘I think time will help. I’ve found before that once a child sees their parents doing all right, they let go of some of the responsibility they feel for them. Also, her social worker will talk to her mother about what she can do to reassure Melody at contact.’
‘That’s good.’ She smiled at Melody. ‘You see? There’s no need for you to keep worrying about Mummy.’
Melody gave a small nod.
I usually work closely with the teaching assistant (TA) of the child I’m fostering. Not only do TAs help the child to learn, but they often give a level of pastoral support, and help the child develop their self-confidence and self-esteem. If a child is struggling at school it can have a knock-on effect on other aspects of their life. I’d taken an immediate liking to Miss May. Short, a little chubby, with a round, open, smiling face, you felt you wanted to hug her. I guessed she was approaching retirement age, but I doubted she would retire. She clearly loved her job, just as the children clearly loved her. As we stood talking I lost count of the number of children who’d gone out of their way to call and wave to her – ‘Goodbye, Miss May!’ ‘See you tomorrow, Miss May!’ and so forth.
As Melody and I went to the car she said, ‘Don’t tell anyone, but Miss May likes sweets. She keeps a packet in her handbag. She gave me one, and the boys she helps, but no one else in the class.’
‘Lucky you,’ I said. I was pleased Melody was starting to enjoy school – some children don’t.
That evening passed as most school nights do, with dinner, homework, bath and bed. The following day was Friday and Melody had contact again. She woke up worrying about her mother. ‘I hope Mum’s not late again,’ she said anxiously. ‘I hope she remembers to come. She might not remember how to get there. I hope she has something to eat.’
‘I’ve got some dinner for her,’ I said. ‘I saved some of the cottage pie we had on Wednesday. I’ll defrost it and bring it with me.’ The look of gratitude on Melody’s face was heartbreaking. Then it was replaced with yet more anxiety. ‘It’s Saturday tomorrow, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mum and me go shopping on Saturday to buy food for the weekend. I won’t see her again until Monday, so she won’t have anything to eat all weekend.’
‘Melody, I am sure your mother will buy herself something to eat over the weekend. She’s an adult. Please don’t worry about her. Now come on, time to get dressed ready for school.’
I was about to leave her room when she said, ‘Cathy, you said you give us pocket money on Saturday. Can I have mine early?’
‘What for?’
‘To buy food for my mum.’ She wasn’t the first child I’d fostered who’d wanted to use their pocket money to help out their parents.
‘Love, that money is for you, but as you’re so worried I’ve got a couple of ready meals in the freezer, which your mum can have. I’ll bring them with me at the end of school and she can have them at the weekend.’
‘Thank you,’ Melody said, and threw her arms around me, which made me tear up. Clearly I wouldn’t be providing Amanda with all her meals – this was a short-term measure to stop Melody from worrying and to get them both through their first weekend apart. Amanda had her benefit money, and if she really had stopped using drugs she should have enough to buy food.
Later, before I left to collect Melody from school, I added some fruit, crisps and biscuits to the bag I was taking.
Melody needn’t have worried about her mother being late for contact, for when we arrived she was already there, and had been for two hours! The receptionist said it wasn’t clear why Amanda had arrived so early, but she’d insisted on staying in the waiting room for the whole two hours so she didn’t miss Melody. She was now in Yellow Room with the contact supervisor for the start of contact. Melody was of course delighted that her mother was already there. She was sitting on the sofa, looking at a children’s book, and the contact supervisor was at a small table at one end, writing.
‘Hello, Mummy!’ Melody cried, running to her, the bag of food dangling at her side.
Amanda looked up and for a second seemed startled, as if she hadn’t been expecting to see Melody or didn’t recognize her, but then she stood and hugged her. I said hello to Amanda and then left. I walked to a small local café where I did some paperwork over a cup of tea