Another Forgotten Child Read online

  ‘I was sent a copy of your notes in respect of what Aimee told you about Craig and I read them carefully. Our problem is that Aimee couldn’t substantiate in the interview what she’d told you. We tried for over an hour, but she was very confused. We can’t make a case strong enough to take to court if Aimee won’t give evidence and repeat what she told you. Also Aimee’s made similar allegations before about her father, so her evidence can’t be considered reliable.’

  ‘Perhaps her father abused her as well?’ I suggested, not understanding the logic.

  ‘It’s possible, but again we don’t have the evidence to take it to court. Although Aimee is eight, she’s well behind in her language development, so it’s very difficult to interview her. I’m sorry, but unless new evidence comes to light, in respect of Craig or her father, I’m afraid we can’t proceed.’

  ‘I understand,’ I said, disappointed but having to accept the police’s decision.

  ‘Will Aimee be visiting her father in prison?’ DC Vicki Davies now asked.

  ‘I didn’t even know he was in prison,’ I said. ‘How long has he been in there?’

  ‘A couple of months, I think.’

  ‘What’s he been convicted for, or can’t you tell me?’

  ‘I can tell you. It’s not a secret. He received a custodial sentence for possession of class A drugs with intent to supply, and resisting arrest. He got five years.’

  ‘I see. Well, hopefully the social services won’t decide Aimee needs to see him. I once had to take a child to visit a parent in prison and it was an awful experience for everyone.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think they will,’ DC Nicki Davies said. ‘Aimee doesn’t have much of a relationship with him, and as I said, she’s accused him of abuse before. I really don’t understand why Aimee wasn’t removed from home sooner. The older children were, years ago. I’ve been involved with that family since I first started working in child protection, over ten years ago, and it was obvious back then that it was never going to get any better in that home. Aimee should have been removed at birth.’

  ‘That’s what everyone says,’ I agreed.

  DC Nicki Davies thanked me for my time and promised to let me know if there were any new developments in the case against Craig; then she wound up the conversation and we said goodbye. While Nicki Davies was clearly a pleasant lady who I assumed was good at her job, the fact remained that Craig would not be prosecuted for assaulting Aimee, and neither would her father, if he too had abused her. I telephoned Jill and told her what I’d just learnt, and we agreed that unless Aimee specifically asked about Craig I wouldn’t tell her he wasn’t going to be prosecuted, and neither would I tell her that her father was in prison.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Flashback

  Aimee had a dental appointment for a check-up that afternoon straight from school and I wasn’t expecting good news. I’d seen inside Aimee’s mouth when I helped her brush her teeth and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

  The check-up didn’t get off to the best start as Aimee bit the dentist – hard.

  ‘Ouch! That hurt!’ Mike, the dentist, exclaimed, glaring at me as if I was to blame.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, moving a little closer to the chair. ‘Aimee, please try to keep your mouth open.’ The dental nurse had asked me to stand at the foot of the examining chair and although I couldn’t see what Mike the dentist could, his expression as he examined Aimee’s mouth confirmed my worst fears.

  ‘I’m sure she did it on purpose,’ Mike said, still smarting over the bite, and now examining the tip of his index finger rather than Aimee’s mouth.

  ‘It was an accident,’ I confirmed. ‘Aimee’s not used to visiting the dentist.’

  ‘No. I can see that,’ he said a little unkindly, and exchanged a meaningful glance with his nurse.

  Satisfied that the tip of his finger wasn’t severed, or even bleeding, Mike returned – with some trepidation – to the inner caverns of Aimee’s mouth. This time he sensibly used the metal probe and kept his fingers well away from her teeth, while Aimee, bless her, now concentrated so hard on keeping her mouth wide open that her face contorted into a gargoyle-like grimace, which made her look rather odd and a little frightening.

  ‘Try and relax,’ the nurse suggested.

  ‘Good girl,’ I encouraged.

  I already knew Aimee’s mouth wasn’t the best Mike had seen in his dental career and his findings, which he now read out to his nurse, confirmed this. Mike looked about seventeen but clearly had to be in his late twenties to be a qualified dentist. He was well tanned and had a strong Australian accent, and was a temporary replacement for our usual dentist, who was on maternity leave. The word ‘cavity’ featured often in Mike’s dialogue with his nurse as he went round Aimee’s mouth with his probe. And it didn’t take great insight to know that meant a lot of decay and therefore fillings. ‘Thirteen has a cavity, fourteen has cavity …’ he continued. ‘And finally the last one, twenty, has a deep cavity too,’ he said.

  The examination complete, Mike sat back in his swivel dentist’s chair, sighed and glared at me. ‘The child’s diet has been appalling. Does she eat a lot of sweets and biscuits?’

  ‘She did but I’m changing that.’

  ‘Does she ever brush her teeth?’ he asked.

  ‘She didn’t, but she does now. I make sure of it.’

  He sighed again. ‘Her teeth are in a dreadful state for a child of her age – the worst I’ve ever seen. Every tooth needs filling but that would be far too traumatic, so unless they cause her pain I shall leave the primary teeth untreated – they’ll come out soon. But I do need to fill the two second teeth, as otherwise she’ll lose those. You really must make big changes to her diet and make sure she brushes her teeth properly. The nurse will give you a leaflet on dental hygiene before you leave.’

  It was then I realized that Mike might be thinking Aimee was my child and I was responsible for the appalling state of her teeth. I’d written ‘foster carer’ on the form when I’d registered Aimee, and had filled in what I knew of her medical history, but it was quite possible he hadn’t read the form and, not knowing me personally, didn’t realize.

  ‘Aimee is a looked-after child,’ I said. ‘I am her foster carer and she has only been with me a month.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said.

  ‘She’s on a good diet now, and I always make sure she brushes her teeth, but the damage has already been done.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ he said again, now reassured that I knew how to look after a child’s teeth. ‘Well, that’s nice of you – to foster. Come up here and I’ll show you what I mean.’

  I moved carefully around the instrument panel and up to the top end of the couch where Aimee’s head rested. I stood next to where Mike sat, his previous hostile attitude now replaced by something approaching admiration. Using his probe he went round Aimee’s teeth, pointing out the cavities. I knew from helping her brush her teeth they were in a bad way but now with her mouth wide open I could see the full extent of the damage. Some teeth were missing and nearly all of those that remained had some decay in them; the back teeth were brown and crumbling. How any mother could let her child’s teeth get into that state I’d no idea. NHS dental treatment is free for children in the UK.

  ‘It’s a form of child abuse,’ Mike said, voicing my thoughts. ‘Just as well she came to you when she did or she’d have lost her second teeth as well.’

  ‘Like me mum and dad,’ Aimee put in, her mouth closing awkwardly around the probe.

  ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘And you don’t want false teeth, do you? So we need to make sure you brush your teeth well.’

  Aimee nodded.

  Mike finished by pointing out Aimee’s two second teeth, both of which already had small cavities in them and which he would fill. He then reinforced to Aimee that she must look after her second teeth, as they had to last a lifetime. He raised the dentist’s chair and praised Aimee for being a good girl and the nurse gave Aimee a sticker in the
shape of a large gleaming white molar with a smiling face.

  ‘I’ll give her teeth a polish when she comes for her fillings,’ Mike said to me as Aimee climbed out of the chair.

  ‘I’ll need to have the consent form signed by her social worker,’ I said. ‘As her foster carer I can’t give permission for the treatment. I’ll make the appointment as soon as I have the form signed.’

  ‘As soon as possible, please,’ Mike said. ‘And Aimee, you make sure you don’t eat too many sweet things, and brush those teeth well. All right?’

  ‘I will,’ Aimee said. ‘Cathy makes me.’

  ‘Well done, Cathy,’ Mike said, and I wished Susan had been present to hear this.

  We said goodbye and on the way out I collected the consent form I needed for her treatment from the reception desk. Once outside I took the opportunity to reinforce again to Aimee just how important it was to brush her teeth and not to eat too many sugary foods.

  ‘I hope you now understand why I don’t let you eat lots of biscuits and sweets,’ I said. ‘And why I make you brush your teeth.’

  Aimee, subdued by the prospect of having fillings, gave a small nod, and then said, ‘I think my mum should have done the same.’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed quietly. I hoped Aimee was starting to appreciate that the guidance I gave her was for her benefit. ‘And Aimee,’ I said lightly, with a small smile, ‘the next time we see the dentist, please try not to bite him. He’s only doing his job and you hurt him.’

  ‘But I don’t like having things shoved in me mouth,’ she said. ‘That’s why I bit him.’

  ‘I know it’s not very pleasant but it doesn’t last for long.’

  ‘I didn’t like it at me mum’s either,’ she added, frowning.

  ‘But you didn’t go to the dentist while you were living with your mother, did you? That was some of the problem.’

  ‘No. I mean I didn’t like having things shoved in me mouth at me mum’s.’

  ‘What sort of things?’ I asked naively.

  ‘You know,’ Aimee said, elbowing me conspiratorially in the side. ‘Man’s things.’

  I looked at her carefully and hoped I’d misheard. ‘No, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Can you explain?’

  ‘Man’s thingies!’ she said louder, frustrated by my ignorance. ‘You know, dinglies.’ And she pointed to her crotch.

  I hadn’t misheard. There was no doubt. It was a cold winter’s day but that wasn’t the reason I shivered. I slowed my pace. Aimee, walking in step beside me, slowed too. ‘Aimee, love, I need you to explain exactly what you mean so I can tell your social worker.’

  Aimee gave a little sigh at my apparent lack of understanding but didn’t appear outwardly distressed by what she’d just divulged. ‘When the dentist put his fingers in my mouth,’ she began, ‘it made me think of when I was at me mum’s. It felt like when the man put his thingy in my mouth. That’s why I bit him.’

  Reeling from the new disclosures, I was silent for a moment. I wasn’t sure if I should question Aimee and try to find out more about the abuse or leave it to the child protection police officer, for it would certainly be a police matter. But what I was sure of was that before I reported what appeared to be gross sexual abuse, I needed to clarify what I was reporting. ‘Aimee,’ I said carefully. ‘Are you telling me that while you were at your mother’s a man put his penis – his willy – in your mouth?’

  ‘Yes. His thingy,’ she said. ‘Like they do in the films.’

  ‘What films?’ I asked, wondering if this was something Aimee had seen in an adult DVD.

  ‘The film I watched with the man,’ Aimee said. ‘He showed me a video of a man putting his thingy in a girl’s mouth. He said it was a game kids played with him and I had to do it. He said other kids liked his game but I didn’t, so I bit him like I did the dentist.’ Which sounded like the classic paedophile using pornographic material to groom the child he was about to sexually abuse.

  ‘What happened after you bit him?’ I asked, looking at Aimee, as we continued walking along the pavement in the direction of the car.

  ‘He shouted I was a fucking bitch, and then slapped my face. I screamed and Mum woke up. He took his video and left.’

  ‘Did you tell your mum what had happened?’

  ‘Yeah, but she didn’t believe me.’

  ‘Do you know the man’s name?’ I asked.

  ‘No, he was just one of mum’s friends,’ Aimee said matter-of-factly. ‘I think he gave her Big H sometimes.’

  ‘I understand,’ I said, apparently more shaken by what Aimee had described than she was. ‘Well done for telling me. You did right. Aimee, it was very wrong of that man to try and make you do that. It wasn’t a game, it was abuse. I’m going to contact Nicki Davies. You remember her?’ Aimee gave a small nod. ‘I shall tell her what you’ve told me and she’ll probably want to speak to you again. All right, love?’

  ‘I guess so, but I ain’t telling her what I told you.’

  ‘You must,’ I said. ‘It’s important. I can tell her but she will want to hear it from you too.’

  ‘No,’ Aimee said adamantly. ‘I’ll get into trouble.’

  ‘With who?’

  ‘That man I told you about.’

  ‘No you won’t. You’re safe with me. You won’t ever have to see him again.’

  ‘Already have,’ Aimee said smartly.

  ‘When?’

  ‘When we were shopping last week, we passed him in the street. He was with a woman and he winked at me. He’s still around and I ain’t telling, so you best forget what I told you.’

  I stopped and drew Aimee to one side. ‘Aimee,’ I said, bending a little towards her to make eye contact. ‘I can’t just forget what you’ve told me – not as a mother or a foster carer. What the man did was very wrong and the police have to know so they can stop him doing it again.’

  ‘No,’ Aimee stated categorically, and I knew she wasn’t about to change her mind.

  We continued on our way home, with Aimee talking about school and her friends and me fretting over the new disclosures. Was there nothing this poor child hadn’t been subjected to?

  Once home I began dinner while Aimee watched some television. When Paula and Lucy arrived home Aimee told them she’d been to the dentist. Then, non-stop, she said that she’d got to have two fillings in her secondary teeth, but Mike wasn’t filling her first teeth, although they had cavities, because it would be too traumatic, and she had to look after her second teeth, as they had to last a lifetime. Clearly while Aimee had been lying in the dentist’s chair she’d been taking in everything that had been said and had remembered it, which was good. I’d noticed before that Aimee could pick up and retain information she’d heard very accurately, and I was using this to help her learn – repeating spellings and times table etc. out loud, rather than relying on the printed sheet. The downside of Aimee’s good auditory perception was that she could repeat back to me, word perfect, conversations I’d had, including girly telephone conversations with my friends. So that if I had to discuss Aimee’s case with one of the professionals involved I always made sure I was well out of earshot.

  I knew there was no point in phoning Jill that evening about the sexual abuse Aimee had disclosed, for although there would be a member of staff in the Homefinders office in the evening, the social services offices would be closed. I also knew that Jill, the social services and child protection would ask me to put what Aimee had said in writing. So once Aimee was in bed watching a Walt Disney DVD, I typed up my log notes, using Aimee’s own words as much as possible. I detailed the abuse, that Aimee didn’t want to speak to Nicki Davies, and that she had seen her abuser while out shopping with me. I also included the outcome of Aimee’s dental check. Jill would read the email in the morning and then forward it to the social services. Foster carers who work for independent fostering agencies as I do usually funnel information through their support social worker at the agency, who passes it on to the child’s social worker.<
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  That night when I went up to say goodnight to Aimee and switch off her television I asked her, as I always did, if she would like a kiss and hug goodnight.

  ‘Not yet,’ she replied with a cheeky grin. ‘But I’m getting close. So keep asking!’

  I smiled, blew her a kiss and came out. But I was troubled. Only a few hours previously Aimee had remembered a dreadful incident of sexual abuse, yet she’d been able to continue as normal, apparently unperturbed, while the image of what she’d told me had tormented me all evening. Children who have been badly abused often compartmentalize their memories, hiving off the bad thoughts and ‘forgetting’ them until something happens – like the dentist putting his finger into Aimee’s mouth – when they get a flashback. The fact that she was doing this made me wonder about the true extent of her abuse while she’d been living at home. Her dreadful neglect had been well documented but what else was there? What other memories lay hidden in Aimee’s subconscious, waiting to resurface? Which brought me back to the question on everyone’s lips: why had she been left at home for so long? The Guardian ad Litem was visiting on Friday and I hoped she would have the answer. The Guardian is appointed by the court to represent the child and give an overview of what is in the child’s best interest. He or she has access to all the files.

  It was only when I was climbing into bed that night that I realized we hadn’t phoned Aimee’s mother as we were supposed to. I’d been so preoccupied with Aimee’s disclosures about sexual abuse, the state of her teeth and getting dinner on the table that I’d completely forgotten. Aimee hadn’t remembered either. It was nearly eleven o’clock, so far too late to do anything about it now. All I could do was admit my oversight and apologize the following day, but I knew this would spark another complaint from Susan and this one would be justified. I could have kicked myself and I made a mental note that tomorrow I would write ‘phone Susan’ in my diary on every Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday until the end of the year so I didn’t forget again.

  The following morning Aimee had a medical scheduled for 9.30, and I’d told the school I’d take her in afterwards. All children coming into care in England have a medical, in addition to any emergency treatment they might need. I’d already explained to Aimee why she was having a medical – to make sure she was fit and healthy – and what to expect.