Another Forgotten Child Read online

  ‘Very well,’ I said. ‘I had a chat with her about Jason and she has an understanding of the situation.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll be seeing her next week.’

  Lynn Burrows, the designated teacher, appeared in reception; she smiled and said hello to me, and introduced herself to Norman. We then went with her up a flight of stairs to her office, where the meeting was to take place. There would just be the three of us.

  Once we were seated around the table Lynn began by giving the results of some tests Aimee had taken, which showed her to be working at about the level of a four-year-old. Norman made notes on the PEP form as Lynn spoke. She said Aimee had missed so much school in the early years – when the building blocks of learning should have been put in place – that it would take some time for her to catch up with her peer group. At present she was four years behind. Lynn said that Heather, the teaching assistant, was helping Aimee, going back to the very basics and teaching her phonetic sounds, vowel and consonant blends, number sequencing, elementary adding and subtracting, etc., all of which Aimee would have done in year one had she been in school.

  ‘Aimee’s making steady progress,’ Lynn confirmed. ‘But she can become frustrated if she doesn’t understand something.’

  It appeared from what Lynn said that there were no big issues in respect of Aimee’s learning, such as dyslexia or learning difficulties; Aimee just had a lot of catching up to do from having missed so much early schooling. When Lynn had finished I thanked her for all she and the staff were doing for Aimee and confirmed I would obviously continue to give Aimee all the help I could at home, and that I was in daily touch with her TA, Heather.

  Lynn thanked me for all I was doing at home to help Aimee and then, looking at Norman, frowned and said, ‘Aimee has told Heather that she may be moving to live with her brother. Is that right?’

  ‘It’s a possibility,’ Norman said, and briefly explained the situation. ‘I’ll know more in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘And if she doesn’t go to live with Jason?’ Lynn asked.

  ‘I hope she’ll stay with me,’ I said.

  ‘Good.’ Lynn smiled, and looked relieved. ‘The poor kid needs stability after everything she’s been through. She’s a different child since she’s been with you, Cathy. We’ll miss her if she does go. You’ll miss her too, won’t you?’

  ‘Very much,’ I said.

  Norman noted Aimee’s schedule of learning for the next term, which Lynn showed him, and then finished the meeting by saying he’d enter the PEP on the computer system and would send us both a printed copy in the post. We said goodbye and I left ahead of Norman, who’d asked Lynn if he could use the staff toilet. The meeting was pretty much as I’d imagined and was really to confirm Aimee was progressing well and set learning targets for her.

  Outside I began down the path that ran alongside the playground and led to the road. It was morning break and the children were in the playground. As I walked I glanced through the gaps in the shrubbery but couldn’t see Aimee among the scores of running, shouting, excited children. I continued down the path, towards the main road, and as I did Hatchet suddenly appeared at the end of the path on a lead, followed by Susan. She was looking straight ahead as they crossed the path and therefore didn’t see me.

  As the path met the pavement I turned right. Susan was just ahead of me, peering through a gap in the hedge that ran along this side of the playground, presumably looking for Aimee. Hatchet was crouched beside her, straining to do his business on the pavement.

  I went up to her. ‘Hello, Susan,’ I said.

  She jumped and, turning, looked at me guiltily. ‘You scared me,’ she said, pinching out a half-smoked cigarette between her thumb and forefinger. ‘What are you doing here?’

  I could have asked her the same question, although we both knew why she was here. ‘I’ve been to a meeting in the school,’ I said. ‘To make sure Aimee is learning as she should.’

  Susan nodded and then shivered. She looked dreadful. It was cold and she only had on a thin grubby jacket, T-shirt, jeans and what looked like plimsolls on her feet. Her face was more gaunt and paler than the last time I’d seen her, three months previously, almost grey, and very heavily lined. She still didn’t have any false teeth and there was a large open cold sore on her lip. I didn’t know if she was shivering from the cold, lack of nutrition or drug withdrawal.

  ‘Susan, if you’d like to know how Aimee is doing at school and generally, why don’t you ask Norman to set up a meeting?’ I suggested, trying to establish a working relationship. ‘Then I can tell you all about Aimee’s progress. We haven’t seen each other for a while.’

  ‘Oh yeah, OK,’ Susan said, agitated and clearly eager to get away. ‘I’ll remember that. See ya, then.’ Turning, she headed back along the pavement, leaving Hatchet’s large poop in the centre of the path. I’d tried to talk to her but she hadn’t wanted to know. I looked at the steaming pile of dog’s mess and considered calling after her and asking if she was going to clear it up, but thought better of it. I wondered if her coming to the school was a regular occurrence; clearly Lynn Burrows wasn’t aware, or she would have mentioned it.

  I didn’t tell Aimee I’d seen her mother outside school, but that evening after dinner when she was helping me to clear the table I asked casually, ‘Do you often see your mum at playtime?’

  Aimee looked at me with the same guilty expression her mother had. ‘Sometimes,’ she said.

  ‘Does she talk to you?’

  ‘Until the playground supervisor sees her and then she goes.’

  ‘OK. I just wondered.’ And we continued with the dishes.

  I didn’t say anything more to Aimee on this matter; it was no good telling her not to go to the hedge when her mother was there. It was her mother’s responsibility, and incumbent on her not to initiate unsupervised contact. I’d have to make a note in my log that I’d seen Susan outside the school and of what Aimee had told me; I’d also have to inform the social worker and the school. For while a mother wanting to catch a glimpse of her daughter might seem innocent enough, who knew what Susan was telling Aimee before the playground supervisor spotted her? Susan could, for example, be telling Aimee not to talk about certain things – warning her off disclosing more abuse, perhaps. I’d looked after children who’d been threatened into silence by their parents at snatched impromptu meetings and even at supervised contact when the supervisor hadn’t been vigilant. Also it was confusing for Aimee to be told she wouldn’t be seeing her mother at the family centre and then see her outside school. A child in care has enough to cope with without such additional anxieties.

  * * *

  On Wednesday Jill visited me for one of her six-weekly supervisory meetings, when I updated her on Aimee’s progress at home and school, including details of the PEP. Jill then checked and signed my log notes, after which we discussed the agency’s forthcoming training programme, to which I contributed. Jill was happy that Aimee’s placement was going as planned and she passed me two copies of the report she’d written of her last supervisory visit. I read the top copy, signed and dated them both, and then handed one copy back to Jill. This would go on the agency’s file and the other copy I’d keep for my records. Jill then asked me if I wanted her to attend the permanency planning meeting, which was due to take place on Thursday. I said I didn’t think there was any need, as it would be straightforward. Lastly we arranged a date for Jill’s next visit – in six weeks’ time. ‘Assuming Aimee is still with you, of course,’ Jill said.

  ‘Oh, she will be,’ I said. ‘She can’t possibly be moved that quickly. Can she?’

  ‘It’s possible, but not likely,’ Jill said.

  The permanency planning meeting was held on Thursday at 2.00 p.m. at the council offices. I arrived ten minutes early, as I do for all meetings, although goodness knows why, for I couldn’t ever remember a meeting at the social services starting on time. Norman hadn’t previously notified me of which room the meeting would be
held in, so having signed in at reception, I used my mobile to phone him, assuming he was somewhere in the building. He wasn’t. He was outside in the smoking area having a fag and said he’d be with me as soon as he’d finished. Presently Norman arrived and said we needed to find Stacey. I didn’t know who Stacey was or why we needed to find her, but Norman explained.

  ‘Stacey’s leading and chairing the permanency planning meeting,’ he said. ‘She’s from the family finding team. But I don’t know which room we’re using.’

  ‘That makes two of us,’ I said with a smile.

  I fell into step beside him as we left reception and began up the stairs to the first floor. Stacey wasn’t where Norman thought she would be, so we hunted around until we found her – on the phone in an office that wasn’t her own. We respectfully waited outside the office door until she’d finished. When she came out she apologized for keeping us waiting and said we just had to collect Laura, who she said was a trainee social worker and wanted to sit in on our meeting. Five minutes later we found Laura in the main office, and then Stacey wondered out loud which room we should use for the meeting, as none of the interview rooms had been booked and most of them appeared to be in use. I knew better than to ask why no room had been booked, and tagged along, aware the meeting should have started over twenty minutes previously.

  As luck would have it, one of the rooms was suddenly vacated and we quickly went in before anyone else could, and the four of us arranged ourselves around the table. Stacey switched on her laptop and we waited expectantly. She apologized that it was taking some time for her to log in, as there were problems with the new wireless networking system. We waited some more while she stared at the screen, clicked the mouse and told us she was trying to find the folder she needed to open for the meeting. ‘Oh for good old-fashioned pen and paper,’ she said with a sigh.

  Norman and I agreed, while Laura, the trainee, smiled politely.

  Eventually we got started, thirty-five minutes late. We introduced ourselves, and I said I needed to leave in forty minutes to collect Aimee from school.

  ‘OK, we’ll speed up,’ Stacey said. ‘As this is the first permanency planning meeting for Aimee, I’ll need to enter her details first.’ She then asked Norman for Aimee’s full name, date of birth, ages of siblings, when she came into care and what type of care order had been granted, all of which I thought could and should have been entered before the meeting had begun to save time. But I’m used to having these thoughts in meetings at the social services and rarely voice them.

  Once Norman had given Stacey the information she needed and she’d typed it into her laptop, she asked for an update on the court proceedings. Norman explained that the care plan had been to apply for a full care order so that Aimee could be adopted, but as Susan was now cooperating and a member of the extended family (Jason) had offered Aimee a permanent home, there probably wouldn’t be any need to apply for a full care order. Stacey typed this into her laptop and then asked Norman a number of questions regarding the legal position, which again I’d have thought she should have been made aware of before the meeting.

  ‘So you won’t really be needing family finding, then?’ Stacey asked Norman.

  ‘No, I suppose not, because if Aimee doesn’t go to Jason then she’ll stay with Cathy. So we won’t have to look for a permanent family.’

  ‘But if Aimee is going to move, then we’ll need to meet again to plan the introductions and timescale of the move,’ Stacey pointed out.

  ‘Yes,’ Norman confirmed. ‘I’ll phone you when I know for definite what is happening.’

  Stacey typed this into her laptop and with ten minutes left before I had to leave to collect Aimee from school she asked me to give an update on Aimee, which I did, emphasizing how well she was doing.

  Stacey entered this into her laptop. Then I said, ‘Sorry, I really need to be going now.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Stacey said easily. ‘I think we’ve just about finished.’ She looked at Norman for confirmation.

  ‘Yes,’ Norman agreed. ‘I’ve got another meeting soon anyway.’

  Stacey thanked me for coming, closed her laptop and then closed the meeting. I said a hurried goodbye and left, wondering what Laura, the new trainee and doubtless an enthusiastic social worker, had made of the meeting. It was hardly the best example of efficiency, and I knew from experience it certainly wasn’t a ‘one-off’ in this respect. Like many meetings in social care, it would have flagged up on their computer system as due – another box to tick – while in effect the exchange of information could have easily taken place in a phone call and saved all those present a lot of time.

  Although the meeting hadn’t progressed Aimee’s case, the care plan continued to chug along at quite a speed. Later that day Norman phoned me to ask if he could change the date of his planned visit the following week from Tuesday to Thursday, as Tuesday was the only day Jason and his wife were free to see him. ‘I don’t want to leave seeing them until the following week,’ he said. ‘I want to get things moving.’

  ‘Thursday is fine with me,’ I said, always the accommodating foster carer. ‘We’ll be home from school by four o’clock.’

  ‘I’ll come at five past four, then,’ Norman said. ‘And I should have a lot to tell you and Aimee.’

  True to his word, Norman arrived at five past four and he stayed for over two hours, talking to Aimee and me about Jason and his family and the plans for Aimee to go to them.

  After he’d gone Aimee and I were exhausted and Aimee had gone very quiet. I knew instinctively something was wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A Chance Meeting

  ‘Are you all right, love?’ I asked.

  Aimee didn’t answer. We were sitting side by side on the sofa and I had my arm around her shoulder. She was snuggled into my side and in her hand, resting on her lap, was the photograph Norman had given to her of Jason and his family. It was a nice photograph, taken in the garden of their home last summer, showing Jason, his wife Jenny, their three-year-old daughter Emily, and a pet rabbit. But whereas Aimee had excitedly admired the photograph when Norman had first given it to her, it now lay face down in her lap.

  ‘There’s a lot to think about and take in, isn’t there?’ I said gently.

  Aimee gave a small nod. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What are you thinking about now?’ I asked softly. ‘I’m thinking Jason and his family sound very nice people.’

  ‘That’s what Norman said, so I guess I have to believe him.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have said that if he wasn’t sure,’ I said. ‘He wants what’s best for you. We all do.’

  Aimee fell silent and then asked, ‘And you’ll stay with me when I first meet them?’

  ‘Definitely. You remember Norman explained that Jason, Jenny and Emily will come here to meet us first? Then we’ll go to their house for a short visit. Then we’ll see each other more and more over two weeks, until everyone feels relaxed and happy with each other.’ Although Norman had explained this to Aimee it was a lot for her to remember and understand. ‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured her. ‘I’ve seen children to their permanent families many times before and it always works out fine.’

  ‘But what if they don’t like me when they meet me?’ Aimee blurted, raising her head to look at me. ‘They might change their minds and say they don’t want me.’

  ‘No, they won’t,’ I said firmly. ‘Norman will have made sure they’re sincere in wanting to look after you. And of course they’ll like you. I’m sure of it.’ For while I knew that occasionally couples who’d been approved to look after a child permanently did change their minds after meeting the child, which was devastating for the child, I was certain it wouldn’t happen here. Jason and his wife were already foster carers and would therefore have a realistic and sincere expectation of what it was like to look after a child who wasn’t their own. Added to which they were family.

  Aimee clearly had many worries about meeting Jason and eventu
ally going to live with him, and I knew her questions and comments would continue until she met him and his family. I’d found in the past that once the child had met their forever family and seen just how nice they were, they felt reassured and most of their worries vanished. The timetable of the introduction would be drawn up at the next permanency planning meeting, when I would get the chance to meet Jason and Jenny. In the meantime I’d have to answer Aimee’s questions and reassure her as best I could, basing my answers on what Norman had told us. I thought it was just as well that Susan had decided to stop the supervised contact: it would be less upsetting for Aimee. The way social care law is written at present, children can see their natural parents right up to the day before they meet their forever family, which is very confusing and upsetting for the child, who has to say goodbye to one set of parents and then hello to the new with no time to adjust.

  While I waited to hear when the next permanency planning meeting would be, life continued in its present routine. Without contact Aimee had time to watch television and play games after dinner, when she’d done her homework, which made for a far more relaxing evening. However, each day when I took Aimee to school or collected her in the afternoon I always kept a watchful eye out for Susan. Although I’d informed Norman and the school that Susan had been seeing Aimee at playtime, and I assumed Norman had spoken to Susan about this, I knew from experience that at times like this – when a parent was about to lose a child for good – emotion ran high. Susan had nothing to lose by making trouble or accosting me, and she knew I would be at school at 9 a.m. and 3.30 p.m. However, when Susan found me it wasn’t outside school but in a deserted cul-de-sac on the edge of town.

  It was the first day of March, a cold but bright day when the sun was thawing the snow of the week before and turning it to slush. I’d parked my car in a quiet cul-de-sac at the far end of the town to avoid the congestion of the multi-storey car park in the shopping centre. Having got out of the car, I stepped over the slush piled in the kerb, stood on the pavement and pointed the fob at the car. As the locks clicked into place I heard a voice say, ‘Cathy.’