I Miss Mummy Read online

  She gave a little laugh, then said her name was Kitty and apologized for Alice having been left for so long without a social worker, which I thought was a good start.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ I said.

  ‘No, but I feel responsible. When I accepted this post I told the authority I wouldn’t be able to take up position for three months. They should have brought in an agency social worker to fill the gap.’ She was right, although I guessed the cost of providing an agency social worker from the authority’s hard-strapped budget had convinced them they could get by without. ‘I’ve familiarized myself with Alice’s file,’ Kitty continued. ‘I see there are a number of appointments outstanding. It seems Alice hasn’t had her medical yet.’

  ‘No, she hasn’t,’ I said. ‘Or a dental check-up.’ All children brought into care have these check-ups, but they have to be initiated by a social worker.

  ‘If you could arrange these appointments, I’ll prepare the form for the medical.’ This had to be signed by the social worker. ‘And Alice’s three-month review is due now,’ Kitty continued. I was impressed: Kitty had been in the post for only twenty-four hours and was already abreast of Alice’s case. The review Kitty referred to was a meeting where all parties connected with the child come together to make sure everything is being done as it should for the child’s benefit and assess what needs to be done. ‘I want to set up the review straightaway,’ Kitty said. ‘Are you able to attend tomorrow? I have found a room free here we can use, and a chairperson. I’ve booked them for ten o’clock.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, even more impressed. ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘And I’ll need to see Alice before the review. Can I come this evening at five? I know she sees her grandparents this afternoon, and I appreciate it’s rather short notice, but I need some understanding of Alice before I go into the review.’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine with me, although Alice may be a bit tired.’

  ‘I understand. I’ll keep it short on this occasion and see her for longer next time. I’d appreciate it if you could update me, now please, from the time Alice came into care.’

  I then spent twenty minutes bringing Kitty up to date: Alice’s routine, nursery, her general disposition, her likes and dislikes, the love she felt towards her mother and grandparents, how difficult she was finding it to bond with her father and Sharon, and that Alice’s greatest wish was to return home – to her mother or grandparents.

  Kitty thanked me and asked if there was anything I needed. ‘A copy of the care plan and the essential information form,’ I said.

  ‘You haven’t been given them yet?’ she asked, amazed.

  ‘No, there’s been no one there to send them. Everything was put on hold until you arrived.’

  Kitty tutted. ‘I’ll chase it up A.S.A.P.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I hesitated, unsure if I should voice my opinion, but decided to go ahead anyway. I would be working closely with Alice’s social worker and I thought she should know how I felt, although how much credence she gave my views was obviously up to her. ‘Alice’s grandparents are heartbroken at losing Alice,’ I said. ‘Mrs Jones often speaks to me on the phone after she has spoken to Alice and offloads. I appreciate what she tells me is likely to be prejudiced in favour of her daughter, Leah, but I do have concerns as to why Alice is in foster care instead of remaining with her grandparents, and also about the plans for Alice’s future. Alice hasn’t been abused, I’m sure of it; on the contrary, she was very well looked after. And if half of what Mr and Mrs Jones are saying about Alice’s father is true, then there is real cause for concern.’

  Without any hesitation Kitty said, ‘From my understanding of the case so far, I have concerns too. There are huge discrepancies in what the parties are saying and further investigation needs to be carried out. At present I’m not sure who is telling the truth, but if at all possible I shall find out.’

  Kitty didn’t say what exactly the discrepancies were, or what exactly needed to be investigated – I assumed it was confidential and not relevant to my looking after Alice – but I was considerably relieved. For three months I’d worried and angsted over Alice, feeling there was something badly wrong and that her case wasn’t as clear cut as the social services believed. Now, with the arrival of Kitty, I felt I had something of an ally, and that Kitty would re-examine Alice’s case and delve deeper into what members of Alice’s family were saying.

  Kitty finished our conversation as she had begun it, by apologizing for Alice not having a social worker for so long, then said she’d see us at 5.00 p.m., and would I tell Alice she was coming.

  I told Alice in the car when I’d collected her from nursery and was taking her to see her nana and grandpa at the family centre. ‘You’ve got a new social worker,’ I said. ‘She phoned me this morning and she sounds very nice. She’s coming to see us later and she’s called Kitty.’

  Alice laughed. ‘Kitty?’ she chirped from the back seat. ‘That’s a funny name. Paula calls the cat Kitty sometimes.’

  I smiled. ‘Yes, but you’d better not tell your new social worker that. She might not be impressed.’

  ‘No,’ Alice agreed. ‘I won’t have time with all the other things I have to tell her – like I miss Mummy and want to live with her or Nana.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘Just One Line’

  Alice hadn’t had a social worker for three months and now suddenly things were moving quickly. Kitty visited us as planned at 5.00 p.m. prompt and was as pleasant in person as she’d sounded on the phone. Alice, although tired, immediately warmed to her, as Kitty sat on the floor and joined in with the farmyard set Alice was playing with. I asked Kitty if she wanted some time alone with Alice, but she (sensitively) said that as this was her first visit, and Alice didn’t know her, she’d prefer it if I remained in the room. I sat unobtrusively at one end of the sofa while Kitty played with Alice, and Alice told her, in no uncertain terms, that she knew she couldn’t live with her mummy because she was ill, but why couldn’t she live with her nana and grandpa because they weren’t ill, and they loved her?

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to find out,’ Kitty said.

  ‘You don’t know?’ Alice demanded, looking up, a toy pig in one hand and a cow in the other.

  ‘Not all of it, not yet. I’ve only just come into the job. I’m still learning all about you.’

  ‘But that’s disgraceful!’ Alice reprimanded.

  Kitty smiled. ‘I completely agree and I promise to do better in future.’

  But Alice’s censure was nothing compared to what lay in store for Kitty the following day at the review. I’d never known a review to be arranged so quickly – usually it takes weeks to book a room and a chairperson, and send out invitations to the various parties. But at 10.00 the following morning I was seated, with six others, at a large rectangular table in one of the committee rooms at the social services’ offices. I saw straightaway that Leah wasn’t present but that Mr and Mrs Jones, who hadn’t felt able to attend the placement meeting, had come. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.

  The chairperson opened the meeting by introducing himself – Ray Sturgess – and then passed to Kitty, Sharon and Chris, Martin and Janice Jones, and me. The Guardian, health visitor and Jill had been invited but because of the short notice had prior appointments and sent their apologies.

  ‘And Alice’s mother?’ the chairperson asked. ‘Are we expecting her?’

  ‘No,’ Mrs Jones said tightly. I could see she was bursting with emotion.

  ‘I tried to invite her,’ Kitty said, ‘but she screamed at me down the phone.’

  Ray, who was also taking the minutes, made a note of those present and then explained he was an independent chairperson unconnected with the social services, and that this was the first review for Alice Jones. He then made the fatal mistake of asking who would like to speak first.

  ‘Me, please,’ Mrs Jones said, no longer able to keep a lid on her feelings. Folding her arms
on the table, she leant forward and glared at Sharon, who was directly opposite. ‘Why are you trying to take Alice away from her mother?’ she demanded. ‘What has Leah ever done to you? You should be ashamed of yourself! You hussy! And as for you,’ she said, now glaring at Chris, ‘you’re the nastiest, vilest scumbag I’ve ever come across. I bet you haven’t told your new wife what you did to my daughter! And if you think you are having my granddaughter, you can forget it! Over my dead body!’ And I thought it might be if she didn’t calm down – she’d gone scarlet and was shaking. When I’d seen Mrs Jones before and after contact, she’d always been so passive and gentle, but now, without Alice present and able to express herself freely, she was giving vent to her anger and frustration. Perspiration glistened on her forehead.

  But if I’d been taken aback by Mrs Jones’s uncharacteristic outburst, Chris and Sharon’s retaliation was even more vitriolic.

  ‘Witch!’ Chris shouted across the table. ‘You never liked me, you old bag! Like mother like daughter!’ It was the most I’d ever heard him say.

  ‘Too right we’ve never liked you!’ Mr Jones yelled back. ‘Because of the way you treated our daughter. I knew the first time I clapped eyes on you you were bad news and I was proved right! Leah was eighteen when you got her hooked on drugs and then got her pregnant! She was fine until she met you. She’d just done her Alevels and was going to university. Then you came into her life. You’re vermin! You should be exterminated!’

  Ray, chairing, raised his hand for quiet, but Mr Jones and Chris ignored him. ‘Your daughter’s a bleeding nutter,’ Chris shouted.

  ‘If she’s unbalanced it’s because of the crack cocaine you put her on! You little shit! There was nothing wrong with Leah’s mind before you got her on drugs. And she’d recovered once you’d gone and was doing all right with Alice, for four years! But you couldn’t let her be, could you? “Here, Leah, one little line won’t hurt. Just for old times’ sake,”’ Mr Jones mimicked. ‘But it did hurt. It combined with the tablets the doctor had given her and sent her over the edge. I knew as soon as she phoned me asking for help last August something was wrong. It was you! If I was ten years younger I’d take you outside now and teach you a lesson you wouldn’t forget!’

  ‘Stop!’ Ray said, loudly enough to be heard. ‘Finish. Or I’ll call a halt to this meeting now. This is not what a review is about.’

  No, I thought, but I was learning an awful lot.

  The room fell silent as Mr and Mrs Jones, Chris and Sharon quietly seethed. Mr Jones was now as red in the face as his wife, while Kitty was writing furiously. And while the chairperson was right – the purpose of the review wasn’t to use it as a slanging match – Mr Jones had just said something very revealing, if it was true. I wondered if Kitty was sufficiently familiar with Alice’s case to understand the significance of what he had said and make the same connection I had done.

  She had.

  Looking up from her notepad, she fixed her gaze on Chris. ‘So you had a relationship with Leah again last August?’ Kitty said.

  ‘And he gave her cocaine,’ Mr Jones put in, ‘which combined with the tablets the doctor had given her and made her very ill.’

  ‘Let Chris speak,’ the chairperson said.

  ‘I only saw her once,’ Chris admitted reluctantly.

  ‘He’s told me about that,’ Sharon put in. ‘We don’t have any secrets.’

  ‘You’re naïve, if you believe that,’ Mr Jones retaliated, addressing Sharon but talking about Chris. ‘He stayed at Leah’s flat for the whole of August. He even told Leah he was sorry and wanted them to get back together again so that he could be a father to Alice. I didn’t believe him, but Leah was taken in. And what with the cocaine he gave her, building up her hopes and then deserting her again, she was a broken woman. When he left she broke down completely, and the neighbours heard her screaming and called the police. She couldn’t cope and it’s your fault! Alice came to live with us a week later.’

  ‘I don’t know how you sleep at night,’ Mrs Jones added.

  Chris shrugged. Sharon looked so taken aback that I wondered how much of this she already knew.

  The room was quiet again. Kitty and the chairperson were both writing, for if what Mr and Mrs Jones had said about Chris was true it threw a new light on the circumstances leading to Alice being brought into care and also raised big concerns about Chris and his suitability to parent Alice. It certainly sounded plausible and would also explain how Leah had successfully parented Alice for four years before it had all fallen apart last August.

  ‘Is the department aware of all this?’ the chairperson asked Kitty.

  Kitty shook her head. ‘Not as far as I know. I only took over the case three days ago and I’m still getting to grips with it and talking to all the parties.’

  The chairperson nodded. ‘And where’s mum now? Why isn’t she here?’

  Mrs Jones answered: ‘Leah can’t be in the same room as him,’ she said, pointing to Chris. ‘She has lost Alice, the most important person in her life, because of him, and she isn’t coping. She can’t sleep or eat, and I’m desperately worried about her.’

  The chairperson nodded sympathetically and I glanced at Chris and Sharon, who were expressionless. The chairperson then turned to Kitty. ‘Can you tell us where the department is with Alice’s case?’

  Kitty explained the care plan, which was that Alice would remain in foster care (on an Interim Care Order) while Chris and Sharon’s parenting assessment was completed. She said that based on a recent psychiatric report the recommendation to the court would be that Leah couldn’t parent Alice.

  ‘So you have a psychiatrist’s report on Leah?’ the chairperson clarified.

  ‘Yes,’ Kitty said, but she didn’t give any details. With Chris, Sharon and Leah’s parents present it would have broken confidentiality.

  ‘And Alice’s father and his wife are the only people being assessed to parent Alice?’ the chairperson asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Kitty said.

  ‘What about us?’ Mr Jones asked. ‘Why aren’t we good enough to look after Alice any more?’

  Kitty looked at the chairperson as she spoke. ‘It was felt that because of Mr and Mrs Jones’s age, they would not be suitable long-term carers for Alice. However, this is one of the issues I shall be looking into and discussing with my manager. If it is felt that Mr and Mrs Jones’s age isn’t an issue here, then we will start a parenting assessment of them too.’

  I heard Mr Jones sigh with frustration, probably feeling that having raised their own children and also having helped look after Alice, it was a bit of a nonsense to ‘assess’ them as parents. But it is normal practice to assess those wishing to parent a child who is in care, and what Kitty had said was very positive. I hoped Mr and Mrs Jones realized that. Kitty wasn’t simply accepting everything that had been passed to her by the previous social workers but was looking into Alice’s case afresh, as she had promised to do.

  However, Kitty’s next statement, while necessary, wasn’t so optimistic, and contained very unwelcome news. ‘If, when the parenting assessments are complete,’ she continued, ‘it is felt that neither Mr and Mrs Jones nor Chris and Sharon are suitable, then the department will be looking for an adoptive home for Alice. Alice is young enough to be adopted and she deserves the stability an adoptive family would offer.’

  ‘What!’ Mr Jones and Sharon cried, united in their dismay. Chris said nothing while Mrs Jones looked close to tears.

  ‘This is normal procedure,’ the chairperson said. ‘After all, Alice has to live somewhere until she’s an adult.’ Then to Kitty: ‘What is the most likely outcome for Alice, from what you know of the case at present?’

  Concentrating on the chairperson, and carefully avoiding eye contact with Mr and Mrs Jones, Kitty said: ‘That Alice lives with her father and his new wife, Sharon.’

  Sharon smiled, relieved; Mrs Jones bit her bottom lip to stop herself from crying; and Mr Jones said angrily: ‘You’d sen
d my granddaughter to live with a man who is a violent drug dealer! I don’t believe I’m hearing this. It’s a travesty of justice!’ He was white now and his hands, clasped before him on the table, shook uncontrollably.

  ‘There is no proof of that,’ Kitty said, addressing the chairperson. ‘And Chris’s hair-strand test for drugs has come back negative.’

  Looking at Mr and Mrs Jones, the chairperson explained that a hair-strand test was a test recognized by the courts, where a strand of hair was tested for drugs, and which could identify substances in a person’s body as far back as six months.

  ‘Six months, you say?’ Mr Jones demanded of the chairperson. ‘When did he have this test?’

  ‘A month ago,’ Kitty confirmed to the chair.

  Mr Jones raised his eyes in disgust. ‘Well, you can’t test what’s not there. Look at the length of his hair: he had it cut for the test!’

  Kitty, the chairperson and I looked at Chris. It was true that his spiked hair had only about a four-to-six-weeks’ growth on it. ‘They said it was enough to do the test,’ Sharon put it in defensively. But that wasn’t the issue. If Chris had had his hair cut a couple of weeks before the test and had therefore given the bare minimum sample, it suggested he had something to hide. I remembered that at the placement meeting when the hair-strand test had first been mentioned Chris and Sharon had told Martha they hadn’t received the forms for the test, which Martha had thought had been sent out. Had Chris and Sharon purposely delayed the test so that Chris could have his hair cut and let it grow again, drug free? I tried to remember from seeing Chris at contact when he’d last had his hair cut, but it wasn’t something I’d paid much attention to.

  The chairperson was looking to Kitty for explanation.

  ‘I really don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’m the fourth social worker on this case and my predecessor requested the test. When I’m back in the office I can check in the file and see what sample was given and when.’