Chapter Thirty-Six
A New Year’s Wish
I telephoned the Guardian on Monday and left a message on her voicemail saying that I thought Mrs Jones could have misinterpreted the purpose of the parenting assessment and now believed Alice would be returned to her; could she explain when she saw her? Carole didn’t return my call, but I assumed she must have spoken to Mrs Jones and explained, for the following Saturday when we phoned Alice’s grandparents, Mrs Jones talked to Alice about the ‘wonderful Christmas’ she would have at ‘Cathy’s’. She didn’t ask to speak to me on this occasion, but she must have been very disappointed to have had her hopes raised and then dashed. I felt sorry for her, and yet again marvelled at her courage as she put aside her own feelings to be so brave and positive for Alice.
The week before Christmas was very busy. Apart from finishing the preparations for Christmas, friends dropped by, and Alice had extra contact at the family centre as it was Christmas. She saw her mother on Monday for an extended contact of two hours, when they exchanged gifts: Alice proudly presented her mother with a wrapped box of perfume we had chosen together and Leah handed me a large carrier bag of presents and asked me quietly if I could put them beside Alice’s bed so that she would wake up and find them on Christmas morning, which is what she would have done if Alice had been with her. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll put them with the “Father Christmas” presents from us.’
I knew that saying goodbye at this contact – the last before Christmas – was going to be particularly difficult, and when I returned to collect Alice, mother and daughter were already in tears. Eventually the contact supervisor gently lifted Alice from her mother’s arms and put her into mine, and I left the room to the sound of Alice crying and her mother calling ‘Merry Christmas’ through her tears.
‘Merry Christmas,’ I returned, although without Alice I doubted it would be very merry for Leah or Mr and Mrs Jones.
On Wednesday Alice had an extended two-hour contact with her grandparents and she once more proudly presented them with wrapped gifts. Mrs Jones told Alice they would put the presents away until Christmas, while Mr Jones said to me he had the ‘you know what’ (Alice’s bike) in the boot of the car and he would transfer it to my car at the end of contact. Mrs Jones had taken in some party food and a Christmas cracker each, and the three of them, plus the supervisor, had a little Christmas celebration with lemonade, sausage rolls and mince pies. Sadly this was the closest Alice’s grandparents would come to celebrating Christmas with Alice this year and yet again I marvelled at their courage to be able to go through with it.
At the end of contact Mr and Mrs Jones and the contact supervisor came with me into the car park, where I put Alice in her car seat and closed the car door so she couldn’t see. Mr Jones opened the boot of his car and I did the same with mine. He carried over the gaily wrapped bicycle, which was to be given to Alice on Christmas morning, and laid it carefully in the boot. ‘Hopefully we’ll see Alice ride it one day,’ Mrs Jones said sadly. ‘Have a good Christmas, Cathy, and thanks for everything.’
‘And you.’ We hugged, and as they waved goodbye to Alice I saw that Mrs Jones was finally in tears.
On Thursday, contact with Alice’s father remained at one hour; I assumed this was because they’d already seen Alice as usual for an hour on Tuesday. They didn’t mention Chris’s assault on Sharon – I hadn’t expected them to. Sharon bore no obvious bruises or marks; indeed they now seemed even more lovey-dovey, making a big show of holding hands and talking attentively to each other. I’d had to persuade Alice to buy her father and Sharon a present, and then persuade her further to wrap the gifts and take them into contact. Unlike when Alice had seen her grandparents and mother, Alice had been allowed to open her Christmas presents during contact with Chris and Sharon. When I collected her I immediately spotted the new doll’s pram which Alice was doing her best to ignore.
‘Don’t you like the present?’ Sharon said as we said goodbye and came away with me wheeling the pram. ‘I spent a long time choosing it.’
‘I think she’s just a bit overwhelmed,’ I said, excusing her. ‘You know how exciting the build-up to Christmas can be. It’s been quite a week.’ Sharon seemed to accept this, although I knew Alice’s coldness towards the gift was because it had come from Sharon, whom she still resented; had it come from her mother her reaction would have been very different.
On the Friday morning Jill and Kitty both popped in with a gift for Alice, and a Christmas card for us all. Jill also had a gift for me from the fostering agency, and we had a box of chocolates ready under the tree for each of them. Kitty was so touched and appreciative at being given a present that I guessed she didn’t often receive gifts or thanks – such is the nature of her job.
By Friday afternoon I had more or less finished the shopping, the presents were wrapped and there was no more contact until after Christmas. On Saturday Adrian and Paula went out with their father for the day and returned with their presents from him, which went under the tree. Unsurprisingly there wasn’t one for me.
That evening Lucy’s mother phoned, for the first time in three months, to wish Lucy a merry Christmas. Lucy hadn’t seen her mother for five months because her mother was now living ‘abroad’, although no one was quite sure where exactly. Lucy had never known her father and had never had a proper relationship with her mother. In effect we were the only real family she’d ever had. This was one of the reasons why she’d bonded with us so quickly, and occasionally called me Mum. Lucy was on the phone to her mother for only a few minutes as her mother was dashing off somewhere. Lucy seemed to take this rejection, as she had all the other rejections from her mother, in her stride; the only outward sign that she was hurting was her attitude to food and the cynical comments she sometimes made.
Christmas is always a difficult time for children in care. Everywhere you look there are pictures of adoring parents smiling at their perfect children to a backdrop of family harmony and domestic bliss. It is a stark reminder to children who are fostered that their own lives haven’t matched up to the ideal, and indeed they can’t even be with their families at Christmas. While foster carers do their best to give the children they look after a fantastic time at Christmas we are also painfully aware of the many conflicting emotions looked-after children must experience. More than once, in the build-up to Christmas, I’d found Alice in her bedroom quietly studying the photograph of her mother, taken the Christmas before when they had all been together.
‘I know Christmas will be a bit different this year,’ I said. ‘But I’ll make sure you have a lovely time with games, presents and lots to eat.’
‘Thanks, Cathy,’ Alice said wistfully. ‘But I’d give up all that if could just have my mummy.’
Yet like all young children Alice got caught up in the joy of Christmas and was awake early on Christmas morning, very excited at finding Father Christmas had been and she was surrounded by presents. I took lots of photographs as she tore off the wrapping paper and her little face lit up; and she was temporarily able to forget her loss as the magic of Christmas took over. Her mother had given her some beautifully illustrated story books, a huge compendium of paints, crayons and puzzles, a Barbie doll all dressed up for an evening out and some very pretty clothes. Alice loved them all, and also the Father Christmas presents I’d bought – a dolls’ house with furniture and little doll people. Adrian, Lucy and Paula were awake early too and I went into their bedrooms as they delved into their sacks and unwrapped their presents. I took plenty of photographs of them too, much to the consternation of Lucy, who said I should have waited until she’d put on her make-up! Downstairs there were more presents under the tree, including the bike from Alice’s nana and grandpa which, despite being well wrapped, was easily identifiable. ‘A bike of my own!’ Alice gasped as soon as she saw it.
As we’d done in previous years, my parents, my brother and his wife and their three-year-old son came to us on Christmas Day; then on Boxing Day
we continued the festivities at my brother’s house, where we had a chance to meet again with my sister-in-law’s family. There were thirty of us in all, including ten children, aged eighteen months to Adrian at fourteen. My sister-in-law produced a wonderful buffet and organized games where we won prizes off the Christmas tree. As I finally drove us home at 10.00 p.m. I was the only one in the car still awake.
The next day was Tuesday and contact resumed. Because Alice hadn’t seen her mother on Monday – Boxing Day – it was rescheduled for an hour on Tuesday morning; then she saw her father and Sharon for an hour in the afternoon. She wasn’t due to see her grandparents this Wednesday, and she saw her father and Sharon for an hour again, as usual, on Thursday. So what with contact, visiting friends and playing with Christmas gifts, the week between Christmas and New Year slipped by. Poor Adrian even had some homework to do!
On New Year’s Eve we were invited next door to my neighbour, Sue, as we had been in previous years. There were twenty of us with our children – all living in the road and knowing each other. It was a lovely atmosphere and we could have a drink and see in the New Year without the worry of finding a babysitter or driving home. As midnight approached everyone squeezed into the sitting room and, with the television on, we counted down to midnight. As midnight struck on Big Ben we cheered, kissed each other and sang a chorus of ‘Auld Lang Syne’. By 1.00 a.m. we were saying goodbye, wishing each other a happy New Year and steering very tired children home to their beds.
Alice was so tired she was nearly asleep on her feet, and Adrian carried her down Sue’s front path and then up ours. Alice didn’t wake as Adrian carried her upstairs and laid her on her bed. While he, Lucy and Paula got ready for bed I changed Alice into her pyjamas and tucked her in with Brian the Bear. She didn’t wake. Before I left I stood for a moment, gazing down at her little face – so similar to her mother’s and so peaceful in sleep. I wondered what the coming year would bring for her. I worried about Alice, more than I cared to admit. I feared for her future. If the wrong decision was made it could be disastrous, and I thought if I was to be granted one New Year wish it should be that everything turned out right for Alice, although how that could possibly happen I’d no idea.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ten Days
‘We’re going to reduce Alice’s contact with her father and Sharon,’ Kitty said. ‘I had a meeting with the Guardian a week before Christmas and we have decided it’s appropriate now.’
‘I see,’ I said, taken aback. It was Tuesday and I had just returned from taking Alice to school – it was the first day of the new term. I was in the hall with my coat still on. ‘Will she have contact with her father as usual tonight?’
‘No. From now on she will see her father for an hour every two weeks on a Thursday. Alice had contact with him last week, so there will be none this week. Contact with her mother will remain unchanged – every Monday. Contact with the grandparents will be increased from fortnightly to weekly – every Wednesday.’
‘I see,’ I said again, aware these changes were highly significant and hadn’t been made lightly, but without knowing the reason behind them. ‘Alice will be very pleased she is seeing her nana and grandpa more often,’ I said.
‘Yes. Cathy, as you know the Guardian and I have had doubts about the care plan for a while now. But the social services couldn’t simply take the decision to alter it and reduce contact with Alice’s father without very good reason. Now the Guardian has raised concerns we have a better chance of altering it. I have rewritten the care plan, reduced contact in line with it, and am taking Alice’s case back to court next week.’
‘So that Alice can be adopted?’ I asked, which seemed the most likely explanation for the reduction in contact with her father, but didn’t explain the increase in contact with her grandparents.
‘No. Not for adoption at this stage.’ Kitty paused, and as I waited my heart set up a queer little rhythm in expectation of what I might hear. ‘If the judge agrees,’ Kitty continued, ‘we are hoping to return Alice to live with her grandparents temporarily.’
‘Oh! Returned? Temporarily. When?’
‘Probably within the month – after a period of transition.’
‘Oh,’ I said again, trying to sort out my thoughts.
‘If the judge agrees to the new care plan, we will return Alice to live with her grandparents to allow Leah time to complete her recovery. If Leah doesn’t recover fully within a year then we will place Alice for adoption. Alice will remain on a care order while she is with her grandparents and we will monitor the situation carefully. Leah will continue to have supervised contact with Alice at the family centre and she knows she must keep to the arrangement and not try to see Alice at the grandparents’. I am meeting Mr and Mrs Jones, and Leah and her partner Mike, tomorrow morning to make sure they understand these contact arrangements, so there can be no misunderstanding as there appears to have been last time, which led to Alice coming into care. Obviously don’t say anything to Alice until it is definite. I’m in court a week on Thursday, so we should have a decision then.’
I was quiet for a moment as all manner of thoughts and feelings flashed through my mind. The good news was that Alice could be returning to live with her grandparents, where she belonged; the bad news was she might be removed again if Leah didn’t make a full recovery within the year. ‘Kitty, can I ask why you have taken this decision now?’
Kitty paused before answering. ‘I have read all the case notes in depth and my feeling is that a different social worker might have made a different decision and not brought Alice into care, but continued to monitor the situation instead. Although Mr and Mrs Jones are considered too old to give Alice long-term care, they are more than capable of giving Alice short-term care. Having said that, there were concerns that Mrs Jones was allowing Leah unsupervised contact with Alice. I think she now has a better understanding of why we make the decisions we do. Also, more evidence has come to light in respect of Chris – his violence and past record – and to be honest his and Sharon’s marriage is very shaky. Sharon has phoned me a number of times and said she’s seriously considering leaving Chris.’
‘And Chris and Sharon are aware of the changes you are asking for?’
‘Yes, although their barrister has advised them they still have a good chance of Alice going to live with them. He will be in court next Thursday to challenge our decision.’
‘So Alice could still go to them?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘And Mr and Mrs Jones understand this – that nothing is definite?’
‘I hope so. I have explained the process to them in depth, although Mrs Jones is sure the judge will “see sense”, as she puts it, and return Alice to them. I have warned her. I have also warned Leah that nothing is definite, and also that she mustn’t say anything to Alice at contact on Monday.’
‘Thanks, Kitty. It would be dreadful if Alice had her hopes built up only to have them dashed. And thanks for all you have done for Alice. You have been so thorough. I just hope the judge makes the right decision.’
‘So do I,’ Kitty said flatly. ‘So do I.’
I replaced the handset and finally took off my coat and hung it in the cupboard under the stairs. Deep in thought, I walked slowly down the hall and into the sitting room, where I sat on the sofa by the French windows and gazed out on to the wintery garden. Only a few nests of lilac crocuses suggested there was life in the barren soil, and the overhanging leafless branches were a stark reminder spring was still a long way off. It has been said that social workers are damned if they do and damned if they don’t, and this was certainly true of Alice’s case. When Kitty went to court next week if the judge decided to return Alice to live with her grandparents then presumably the decision to take Alice into care in the first place had been wrong. But conversely if Alice hadn’t been taken into care and something had happened to her, the finger of blame would have pointed directly at the social services. Alice was known to the
social services, and was being visited by a social worker, who would have been castigated for not having seen the warning signs and acting sooner.
Yet while I sympathized with the difficult decisions social workers have to make on a daily basis, I was troubled by the often frequent changes of social workers – as in Alice’s case – which meant there was little continuity. Had one social worker been involved right from the beginning, he or she would have been able get to know Alice’s family and would have been in a better position to judge the situation and whether or not Alice was at risk. I had seen so many cases where, for reasons I’d never understood, multiple social workers had been involved. Alice had had four social workers in three months and perhaps that had contributed to the ‘quick fix’ solution of deciding to send Alice to live with her father. Kitty had taken time to investigate and research Alice’s case, and as a result had drawn up a new care plan that the judge would, I hoped, approve. But even if the right decision was now made and Alice was returned to her grandparents, it was temporary and dependent on Leah’s full recovery within a year. Once again I worried for Alice’s future and the emotional damage Alice had suffered as a result of being separated from her loved ones.
There were ten days until the Thursday, when Kitty would be in court, but it seemed more like ten years, so slowly did the time pass. When I saw Alice’s grandparents at contact on Wednesday Mrs Jones handed me another jar of her home-made chutney ‘Just in case it’s needed,’ Mrs Jones said bravely, meaning she hoped Alice would be with her by the time our present jar was empty.
‘It would be nice if I was eating this one alone,’ I smiled, and Mrs Jones nodded.
Leah also put on a very brave face when I saw her at contact the following Monday. Indeed, she seemed to be coping very well with the additional pressure of knowing Kitty was going back to court and that so much rested on the judge’s decision. The only outward sign of her anxiety was a certain nervous restlessness and biting her fingernails, which I hadn’t seen her do before, and she quietly admitted to me she couldn’t settle to anything at home.