‘Yes,’ Ellie said. ‘My dad is away, so I can’t see him now. But when he comes home on leave I will.’
‘Good,’ I said, for I had formed the impression from what Ellie said that her father and grandmother were a positive factor in Ellie’s life.
When we arrived at the family centre I found that the small car park at the front of the building was full, so I had to park in the road. I wasn’t going to leave Adrian, Paula and Harrison in the car and out of sight, even for a couple of minutes, so I told Adrian and Paula they would come in with me, which they had done before and didn’t mind. It was 3.55 and I hoped Ellie’s mother would be inside the family centre by now, or arrive after we’d entered. I’d been in situations before when the child’s parent(s) had arrived at the same time as us and it was always difficult. The child, pleased to see the parent, rushes over, oblivious to the traffic or the fact that the contact that follows is unsupervised until they are all safely in the centre. I was even more concerned now that I had Adrian and Paula with me, for while I knew Shane couldn’t go into the family centre – the contact was for Ellie and her mother only – there was nothing to stop him waiting outside, and I really didn’t want to meet him. However, we entered the building without incident and as I said hello to the receptionist, who knew me from previous visits, the security door closed protectively behind us. The receptionist said ‘Hi’ to the children, and then to Ellie: ‘Your mum’s in the waiting room.’
As Ellie turned to look in the direction of the waiting room a young woman, fashionably dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and with long fair hair, appeared, together with the contact supervisor, who would stay with Ellie and her mother throughout the two hours’ contact. Ellie rushed over to her mother and they hugged.
‘See you later,’ I called, ready to leave. ‘Have a nice time.’
‘Thank you, we will,’ Ellie’s mother said. ‘And thanks for looking after Ellie while Ava’s away.’
I looked over to Ellie’s mother and smiled at her. ‘You’re very welcome,’ I said. ‘Ellie’s been fine.’
Once outside Paula summed up exactly what I (and probably Adrian) had been thinking: ‘Ellie’s mum doesn’t look horrid,’ Paula said. ‘She looks normal, like a mummy.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed sadly. ‘She does.’ And I wondered whatever had gone wrong in that poor woman’s life to keep her in an abusive relationship that had ultimately led to her having her child taken away.
We went home for an hour and then it was time to return and collect Ellie from contact. When we arrived at the family centre I was able to park in the car park at the front of the building but I decided not to leave the children in the car. I don’t know why: it wasn’t dark, I’d only be in the centre for a minute and I could see the car from reception, but something told me it was better not to leave them unattended.
With Harrison in my arms and Adrian and Paula either side of me we went up the path and the security door clicked open. Ellie was waiting in reception, having said goodbye to her mother in the contact room, as was normal practice. We said goodbye to the staff and left. In the car park it took me a few minutes to strap Harrison into his seat and for the children to climb into the rear seat and fasten their belts. I then checked that everyone had their belts on, closed the rear door and went round the back of the car to get into the driver’s seat. As I did Ellie’s mother came out of the family centre and walked down the path to where a man was now waiting on the pavement. As she approached him I heard her say, ‘That’s the one that’s looking after Ellie this week.’
I glanced over and met the gaze not of Ellie’s mother but of the man. He was short, thickly set, with a shaven head and tattoos on his neck and both arms, and his stance emanated pure aggression. I instinctively knew it was Shane. I quickly got into the car, closed the door and clicked the internal locking system. Ellie’s mother and Shane were now walking along the pavement, side by side and talking. Ellie hadn’t seen them and I wondered how she would react when I drove past them. I reversed out of the parking bay and began down the road.
‘There’s your mummy,’ Paula said innocently.
I glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw Ellie sink low in her seat so that she couldn’t be seen from outside, and then bury her head in Adrian’s shoulder. Such was her fear of Shane.
Chapter Fifteen
No Wiser
On Thursday I planned another day out and, armed with bottles and nappies, I took the children to an animal sanctuary, which was about half an hour’s drive away. Adrian and Paula had been to the sanctuary before on a school outing but were happy to go again. The sanctuary was home to all types of animals that had been abandoned or maltreated. A rather eccentric elderly lady owned and ran the sanctuary and could be seen wandering around the paddocks in wellington boots and an old waxed jacket, talking to the animals. She used all her own money and then relied on public donations to fund the sanctuary, whose residents included turtles that had outgrown their tanks, birds that couldn’t fly, a sheep with three legs and an albino pig that couldn’t go out in the sun without sunscreen.
Beside each enclosure was a plaque that gave the name of the animal; information about the breed of animal; the date the animal had arrived; and the reason the animal was in the sanctuary. Adrian, aged nine and able to read well, appointed himself our tour leader and read aloud from each plaque as we grouped around him; Ellie, at six, could read some sentences, and Paula, five, could read some of the words. There were other families in the sanctuary who were doing something similar; it was an educational and fun day out, and the children (and I) learnt a lot about animals without actually realizing it. There was a small café, where we had a sandwich lunch and I gave Harrison his bottle. Then when the children had had enough of looking at the animals they played in the activity corner with rope ladders and swings, while Harrison slept in the sling. The sky was overcast but it didn’t rain, so we had an enjoyable day, and unlike our previous day out – to the castle – when we returned home Ellie didn’t disclose any further abuse.
Friday was Ellie’s last full day with us and Ava was due to collect her the following morning. Having had the outing to the sanctuary the day before, I planned for the children to play at home today, but first I needed to go to the local shops for some groceries. The weather was fine, so rather than use the car we walked to the local supermarket, with Paula and Ellie taking turns to push Harrison in his pram (I was right beside them), and Adrian on his scooter. In the supermarket I told the children they could choose something for dinner and they were soon peering through the door of the chiller cabinet containing chips, pizzas, burgers, pies and other processed food, which I only allowed occasionally.
‘Cathy, you eat lots of food, don’t you?’ Ellie said, standing between Adrian and Paula and peering in the chiller.
‘We do,’ I said, guessing Ellie meant our family rather than me personally.
‘Ava has lots of food in her house too,’ Ellie said. ‘I like Ava’s food and I like yours.’
‘Good,’ I said.
Adrian and Paula had now opened the chiller door and were trying to decide between potato waffles, chips or alphabet potato shapes to go with the pizza they’d chosen.
‘What do you want, Ellie?’ I asked. ‘You help choose.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Ellie said with a small smile. ‘I like any food. We didn’t have much at my house.’
‘The house where you lived with your mother?’ I clarified.
Ellie nodded. ‘Mum never had any money to buy food,’ she said. ‘We had one cupboard in the kitchen but it only had cans of beer in it.’
‘Didn’t you have a fridge?’ Paula asked, unable to comprehend a house without limitless food and therefore assuming the food must have been kept in the fridge.
‘There was beer in the fridge too,’ Ellie said. ‘Then the fridge broke and Shane got angry because his beer wasn’t cold.’
‘So what did you eat?’ Adrian asked, his attention now diverted from
the chiller cabinet to Ellie.
‘Sometimes bread and sometimes cat food, but I had a school dinner as well.’
‘Cat food!’ Adrian said, turning his back on the chiller to give Ellie his full attention. ‘You can’t eat cat food!’
Ellie nodded. ‘At the weekend when I didn’t go to school and have a school dinner I did. You can’t go to sleep if you’re very hungry. It hurts your tummy. So I waited until Shane was asleep and went into the kitchen and ate the cat’s food.’
‘What! From the bowl?’ Adrian asked, unable to believe his ears. Paula stared at Ellie in disbelief.
‘No, I used a spoon, silly!’ Ellie said. ‘I’m not a cat – I don’t eat from a cat bowl!’ And she laughed. Despite all she’d been through she was still able to laugh at Adrian’s suggestion that she ate from the cat bowl.
Adrian and Paula didn’t laugh or smile, though; neither did I.
‘That’s horrid,’ Paula said, pulling a face.
‘Didn’t it make you sick?’ Adrian asked.
‘Yes, and then I didn’t eat it any more. Shane was angry about the smell I made.’
Adrian and Paula both had their backs to the chiller, all interest in what they were going to eat gone. My appetite had disappeared too.
‘That’s dreadful,’ I said. ‘Absolutely dreadful.’ I pulled a bag of chips from the chiller and dumped it in the basket.
That evening Ellie told Paula that she’d also eaten the remains of Shane’s takeaways, which she’d pulled out of the dustbin, and sometimes her mother sent her next door to ask the neighbour for food. Jill had been right when she’d told Ava that now Ellie was starting to talk about her life at home there’d be more to come out, and what that poor child had been through sickened me to the core.
Once the children were in bed that night I typed up my log notes and printed out copies for Ava and Jill. If I had to add anything before Ava collected Ellie the following morning I’d do so in pen at the foot of the paper. When I’d finished I shut down the computer and put Toscha out for her run; then I went upstairs and gave Harrison his late-night feed. As I sat on my bed by the light of the lamp, with Harrison in my arms sucking contentedly, I breathed a small sigh of relief: very soon normality would return and I’d just have Adrian, Paula and Harrison again. For while Ellie was a darling child and I felt dreadfully sorry for her, I also felt weighed down by her suffering and all the abuse she’d told us about. I was very grateful that Harrison didn’t know what it was to suffer and would eventually leave us for a loving adoptive family. How different his life would be to Ellie’s!
The following morning when we opened the door to Ava I could see how pleased Ellie was to see her and to be returning home, which was how it should be. Ava stepped into the hall for a few minutes but said she wouldn’t stay for a coffee, as her boys were waiting at home, having also missed her. I’d already packed Ellie’s case and had brought it down to the hall, and I now handed Ava a copy of the notes I’d printed out the night before and had put in an envelope. She thanked me and, not wishing to discuss what I’d written in front of Ellie, Adrian and Paula, I said I’d phone her later in the evening. The children and I said goodbye to Ava and Ellie and we waved them off at the door.
‘I’ll miss Ellie,’ Paula said wistfully, as I closed the door.
‘Yes, you two played very nicely together,’ I said. ‘But Ellie is very happy with Ava,’ which Paula appreciated.
However, although Ellie had returned to live with Ava the legacy of Ellie’s suffering would stay with us for some time to come. Every so often for the rest of that day and in the following weeks, Adrian or Paula would suddenly break from what they were doing and ask me: ‘Do you really think Ellie was …’ and then repeat something she had told us – shut in a dark cupboard, ate cat food, etc. – finding the abuse too awful to believe; and I would answer: ‘Sadly, yes, I do.’
That Saturday evening when Adrian, Paula and Harrison were in bed I telephoned Ava, as I’d said I would. She’d had time to read my notes and was horrified by the disclosures Ellie had made, but not wholly surprised. She believed, as did Jill, that Ellie had suffered a lot more than the social services had realized. I then asked Ava if she’d ever seen Shane waiting outside the family centre after contact as I had and which I’d mentioned in my notes.
‘Yes,’ Ava said. ‘Sorry, I should have warned you. He’s not there often but when he is, it scares Ellie. I told the social services he waits outside the family centre sometimes but there’s nothing they can do. If he tries to go into the centre or approaches or threatens Ellie, then they can call the police or take out an injunction, but they can’t stop him standing in the street.’
‘No,’ I agreed. ‘They can’t. But Ellie clearly feels threatened just seeing him.’
‘I know,’ Ava said. ‘That man gives me the creeps. I dread to think of the effect he has on Ellie.’
I then confirmed with Ava that I would give a copy of my notes to Jill, who’d pass them to Ellie’s social worker. She thanked me and we said goodbye, adding that we’d probably see each other at one of the fostering training course or social events Homefinders organized.
The children and I went to my parents for the day on Sunday. On Monday, Adrian and Paula had friends in to play and on Tuesday they were invited to friends’ houses, which worked out very well, as it meant I didn’t have to find a sitter for them while I attended the planning meeting for Harrison which Jill had previously informed me of. It was the first week in August and Harrison had been with us for just over a month, although it seemed much longer, so easily had he fitted into our family and we’d all bonded.
The meeting was scheduled to begin at 11.30 a.m. and was at the council offices. So at eleven o’clock, armed with the ‘baby bag’, as it had become known, which contained all I might need for Harrison, including sterilized bottles, a carton of milk, nappies, baby wipes and nappy bags, I dropped off Adrian and Paula at their respective friends’ houses and continued to the council offices.
I hadn’t been to an adoption planning meeting before, as none of the children I’d previously fostered had left me to go to adoptive parents, although some had subsequently been adopted after they’d left me. Others had returned home or gone to live with a relative in their extended family. I therefore wasn’t sure exactly what to expect at the meeting, although I’d attended other planning meetings before and I guessed they all followed a similar format. But any format or formality disappeared as soon as I walked into the room with Harrison in my arms.
‘Oh! You’ve brought him with you! Fantastic!’ Cheryl, Harrison’s social worker, exclaimed.
‘Let’s have a look,’ one of the two women there I didn’t know cried in delight.
The four of them – Jill, Cheryl and the two women I didn’t know – immediately rose and, coming over, began making a big fuss of Harrison, baby-talking and touching his little hands and feet. Harrison didn’t mind – far from it. He grinned, gurgled, wrinkled his nose and then reached out one little hand as if trying to hold their hands. I felt sure he was playing to the audience.
‘He’s the cutest baby I’ve ever seen,’ the first woman exclaimed.
‘He’s simply gorgeous,’ the other woman said.
‘He’s grown,’ Jill said, and Cheryl agreed.
‘Can I hold him?’ the first woman asked, holding out her arms to receive him. ‘We haven’t met before. I’m Viera from the adoption team.’
‘Hello,’ I said as I placed Harrison in Viera’s outstretched arms.
‘And I’m Jessica, acting team manager,’ the other woman said, offering her hand for shaking.
‘I’m Cathy. Pleased to meet you.’
Jessica, Jill and Cheryl now regrouped around Harrison in Viera’s arms and continued admiring and baby-talking to Harrison as he grinned and wrinkled his nose endearingly. I was clearly superfluous to needs but I didn’t mind; I felt very proud, as any mother does when her baby is admired.
Eventually, Jessica,
as acting team manager, glanced at the wall clock, which was now showing 11.45. ‘Ladies,’ she said, ‘I think we need to start this meeting. I have another meeting straight afterwards.’
‘Oh, must we?’ Viera joked, giving Harrison one last hug before returning him to me.
We eventually settled around the table and I tucked the baby bag on the floor beside my feet so that I could easily reach in for a bottle if Harrison became restless during the meeting.
‘Welcome, everyone,’ Jessica began, picking up a pen and opening a large notepad. Jill also opened a notepad, while Viera and Cheryl had folders on the table in front of them. ‘This meeting is to plan for Harrison’s future, and review our progress in finding suitable adopters for him,’ Jessica said. ‘I shall be chairing and minuting the meeting. Although we have already introduced ourselves, could we do so again, please, for the sake of the minutes? I’ll begin: I’m Jessica Laming, acting team manager.’
Introductions, a chairperson and minuting are usual practice at any social services meeting, and we now went round the table stating our name and role: Viera, social worker from the adoption team; Cheryl, Harrison’s and Rihanna’s social worker; Jill, support social worker from Homefinders fostering agency; Cathy Glass, Harrison’s foster carer. Then after a short pause I added: ‘And this is Harrison, my foster child.’
‘Yes, we mustn’t forget to minute that he’s present,’ Jessica said with a smile. ‘Although I guess you’ll be speaking for him on this occasion?’ I laughed and nodded.
Following the format of previous planning meetings I’d attended I would now have expected Jessica, as acting team manager, to give a brief résumé of Harrison’s case: a little bit about his family history, the circumstances that had brought him into care, as well as the care plan for his future, which I knew to be adoption. Given the secrecy surrounding Harrison’s case I was intrigued to hear what Jessica would have to say about Harrison’s background and family history, and I thought I might learn something – possibly why his mother had had to give him up. I guessed Jill felt the same, for as Jessica began to speak Jill glanced at me and then sat forward in anticipation, pen poised over her pad. However, we were both quickly disappointed.