Innocent: Part 2 of 3

Chapter Eleven

Exasperated and Worried

‘It’s only happening after contact,’ I told Tess on the phone. Very worried, I’d telephoned her straight away, and thankfully she was still at her desk at 5.30 p.m. Lucy and Paula were taking care of Kit and Molly. ‘Either the children are getting very upset at contact and they’re reacting by being sick or it’s something they’re eating there. I can’t think what else it can be.’

‘They weren’t ill on Wednesday, were they?’ Tess pointed out.

‘No. So what was different? I’ll keep a close watch on Kit’s rash and take him to the hospital if necessary. They haven’t got any other symptoms and I’ve given them nothing new to eat. We’re having lasagne for dinner, which they haven’t had before, but we haven’t had dinner yet.’

‘How did they seem when they came out of contact?’ Tess asked.

‘Quiet, but not obviously upset.’ Tess would know that most children took time to adjust to seeing their parents at contact, not because they didn’t want to see them, but because they were anxious at being in care and only seeing them occasionally.

‘I’ve read the contact supervisor’s reports for Monday and Wednesday,’ Tess said. ‘Nothing stands out. I won’t get today’s report until Monday. I think I should observe contact on Monday. Will you tell Molly and Kit I’ll be there, please?’

‘Yes, and Tess, I’m still waiting for the details of any food they’ve had at contact.’

‘I’ll chase it up. Is it all right if I give the contact supervisor your email address and ask her to email you the details direct?’

‘Yes, please,’ I said. ‘I find it difficult to believe it is anything they’re eating there, as Aneta will be monitoring what they have closely, but I need to include it in the diary so we can eliminate it. Aneta sent some biscuits and juice home with them today, so I can cross those off.’ Parents often take food and drink into contact for their children. If it’s not consumed, they usually send it back with the children so it doesn’t go to waste. The children love the food and snacks from their parents, they are very special and a tie with home. Sometimes parents prepare meals for the child to bring home and have at their carer’s.

Having informed Tess that Kit and Molly had been ill again, there wasn’t much else I could do but watch them closely. Neither of them was especially upset at being sick. I think because they’d been ill so often it had sadly become the norm for them. The rash on Kit’s chest hadn’t spread and both of them were breathing easily, although Molly did say she had a tummy ache. I told her I thought it would pass but to tell me if it didn’t.

Paula, Lucy and I dressed the children in their pyjamas and we went downstairs. I served dinner around 6.30 p.m. Molly and Kit both ate a reasonable amount, so I didn’t think it was a tummy bug they’d both picked up. After dinner we adopted our usual routine of Paula and Lucy looking after Molly while I took Kit up to bed. The children were more settled and didn’t cry so often. The bruises and swelling on Kit’s face were hardly visible now. As I settled him in his cot that night I checked the rash on his chest. It was fading fast. It appeared to be as Aneta had said – that the allergic reactions came and went very quickly. But what was causing them? I still hadn’t a clue.

When I took Molly to bed she asked when she would be seeing Mummy and Daddy again. I explained it was the weekend and pointed to the calendar showing Saturday and Sunday, and then Monday when she next had contact. ‘But on Sunday we are all going to see my mummy,’ I said with a smile. ‘She is Adrian, Lucy and Paula’s nana.’

Molly looked a bit puzzled and I explained what a nana and grandpa were. As far as I knew she didn’t have experience of grandparents. Filip’s parents were dead and Aneta’s mother lived abroad and they didn’t see her. ‘You’ll like Nana,’ I said. ‘All the children I look after do.’

Molly snuggled down with her soft toy, I tucked her in and then sat with her for a while. After a few minutes I said, ‘Goodnight, sleep tight, I’ll see you in the morning.’ I came out and left her to go to sleep. Now the children were more familiar with their surroundings, my family and me, it was reasonable they could go to sleep without one of us being there, though I would of course check on them, answer their cries and settle them as necessary. I waited on the landing for a few minutes, but Molly was soon asleep.

During the evening I checked Kit’s rash a couple of times, tiptoeing to his cot and gently lifting his top. By the time I went to bed it had completely disappeared. I supposed that whatever had caused it was no longer in his system or he was no longer in contact with it. Aneta had said that it wasn’t always food that caused a reaction, but it could be something in the air or that they brushed past, like pollen or germs or washing powder. It was a minefield and as far as I knew the tests done so far had failed to identify a cause.

That night both children slept through till morning and I praised them. Up until then one or other of them had woken and needed resettling. I felt on top of the world after seven hours sleep, and the children looked more refreshed too. Paula, Lucy and Adrian played with them first thing in the morning and then I took them supermarket shopping, which gave my family some time to themselves. Little ones are lovely, but they are full on and need to be watched and kept amused the whole time. In the supermarket I put Kit in the trolley seat and Molly walked beside me, helping to take the items we needed from the shelves. If she couldn’t reach, I lifted her up. The shopping took twice as long as normal, but it kept the children amused. They were very well behaved. Kit sat contentedly in the trolley, watching everything going on around him, and Molly didn’t demand sweets as some children do. I sensed that going to the supermarket was as much a novelty for them as it was for me shopping with two little ones. I loved it.

Once home, Adrian unpacked the car and helped put away the groceries, and then after lunch he went to see Kirsty. Lucy went out too later, and once Paula had finished her college work she came downstairs and joined me to play with Molly and Kit. I saw her looking at them a little sadly, clearly deep in thought.

‘It must be awful for their parents at the weekend,’ she said. ‘Having all that time to fill without their children.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘And for Aneta it’s during the week too. Her husband worked long hours so for most of the day and evening there was just her and Molly and Kit.’ I hardly dared think about it: to be a full-time mother, when your life revolved around your children – your reason for living – and then to suddenly have them taken away was the stuff of nightmares. Little wonder Aneta had needed a sedative.

‘Do you think she did hurt them?’ Paula presently asked. I’d told my family what they needed to know about the reasons the children were in care.

‘I honestly don’t know, but clearly the social services think so. Ultimately, the judge will decide.’

‘I hope they get it right,’ Paula said, worried.

‘So do I.’

Usually, in respect of the children I fostered I felt the right decision had been made to bring them into care, but with Molly and Kit I harboured doubts. However, as the foster carer, I didn’t have all the information the social services had, and my job was to look after the children, log anything relevant and basically do as I was told, not question decisions.

That night both children slept well again and I felt we had turned a corner, in their sleeping at least. Yes, they would have restless nights from time to time as all children do, but we had established a bedtime routine that was working. I think sleeping apart was helping too, as they didn’t wake each other.

I took the food diary with us to my mother’s on Sunday so I could add to it during the day. I’d booked a table at a pub restaurant not far from where she lived. We drove in convoy to her house, the children, Lucy and me in my car – the smell of disinfectant still lingering – and Adrian, Kirsty and Paula in his car. Mum lives about an hour’s drive away and Lucy fed CDs of children’s songs into the player to keep them amused.

Mum was overjoyed to see us all and completely taken by Molly and Kit, as I knew she would be. They took to her too. She’s everybody’s idea of what a grandmother should be: kind, caring, gentle, loving, attentive and with plenty of time for everyone. Molly was a little quiet to begin with but soon thawed out and from then on monopolized Mum. It wasn’t long before Kit had scrambled onto her lap, where he stayed while she tried to talk to us.

I made us coffee and cold drinks for the children, and then just before one o’clock we drove to the restaurant. It was very popular for Sunday lunch and was buzzing with conversation. Adrian lifted Kit into the high chair provided and he and Kirsty sat either side of him. We sat Molly on a booster seat opposite Kit and between Lucy and Paula. I sat next to Mum so we could have a chat. On the floor by my chair was what had become known as The Bag. It contained Kit’s nappies and changing paraphernalia, drinks and a change of clothes for both children, a few books and small toys to keep them amused, and of course the food diary. I explained to Mum about the food diary and that I noted everything they ate. They both had the children’s Sunday roast, which contained plenty of food neither of them had eaten before with me – like stuffing and mashed parsnips. For dessert they had the children’s trifle, which seemed to be mainly fruit set in orange jelly and topped with whipped cream. I noted it all down, and the blackcurrant drink that came with their meals.

We returned to Mum’s for the afternoon and I watched both children carefully for any signs of illness. I tried to do it surreptitiously, as I didn’t want to worry Mum, but certainly my family were aware it was possible that one or both children could fall ill at any time. It was very worrying. However, the afternoon passed without any sign of them being sick and when we said goodbye at six o’clock they were still well. By bedtime I was certain that all those new foods could be eliminated from causing their allergic reactions.

On Monday, when I took Molly and Kit to the Family Centre, Tess was already in Blue Room to observe contact. Filip, Aneta and the contact supervisor were there too, so I said a general hello and, having seen the children in, I left. When I returned at the end I sensed an atmosphere and as soon as Aneta saw me she grabbed the children and held them tightly to her. I knew we were going to have a scene and I immediately felt anxious. The contact supervisor was writing, and Tess was watching Aneta. Filip was tidying away the last of the toys.

‘Time to go,’ Tess said eventually, but Aneta clung tightly to Molly and Kit.

‘They’re mine,’ she said to me. ‘You can’t have them. Go away and leave us alone.’

I remained where I was, just inside the door, unsure whether to wait or step outside. Then Tess said to me so everyone could hear, ‘Aneta has been a bit upset because you’ve taken the children out. Molly has been talking about the park and going to Nana’s. I’ve explained that while children are in care it is expected that the foster carer takes them on family outings.’

I was sorry that Aneta was upset, but what Tess had told her was true – while Molly and Kit were with me they were part of my family and would join in all family activities, including days out and holidays.

Aneta was still clinging to her children and it was clearly upsetting them. Molly began to cry. ‘I don’t want to go!’ Which of course upset Kit.

‘Perhaps you could take them to Cathy,’ Tess said to Filip.

He went over to the sofa where Aneta was huddled with the children. ‘Time to go,’ he said firmly. ‘We’ll see you both on Wednesday.’ Scooping them up, he brought them to me and set them down, more confident in his role as father now.

‘Don’t forget this,’ the contact supervisor called, and brought over a small carrier bag containing their unfinished drinks and biscuits.

‘Thank you.’

Filip kissed Molly and Kit goodbye. ‘Love you both,’ he said. Aneta stayed on the sofa, looking miserable and wiping her eyes. I felt sorry for her, but Molly and Kit had to go.

‘See you Wednesday,’ I said, and we left.

Molly began to cry loudly for her mother and I thought that if being upset was causing the children to be sick then it was going to happen now. Outside I calmed them both down before we got into the car, and then drove home, every so often glancing at them in the rear-view mirror. They weren’t sick, and by the time we arrived home they were both happy to see Paula. However, the next day, Tuesday, when there was no contact, half an hour after lunch both children were sick. I had a feeling I knew what had caused it.

Once I’d cleaned them up, I looked at the food diary and, as I thought, the only new food they’d had for lunch was the shop-bought fish cakes. I took the packet from the freezer and examined the list of ingredients. In addition to the white fish, they were covered in a breadcrumb coating, which in this brand contained additives: flavour enhancers, food colouring and preservatives. I knew that some of these could trigger allergic reactions in some children. I noted them all down and in future would check on food labels for these. A very small number of children are allergic to a whole range of additives that have been passed by the Food Standards Agency and cause no problems for most of us. I didn’t think that was so for Molly and Kit, and I felt it was only a matter of time before I identified which additives affected them.

My optimism was short-lived, for later that afternoon both children were sick again, and all they’d had was a drink of juice, which they’d had before. I supposed it could have been a continuation of their earlier sickness, but they’d been fine in between. Exasperated and worried, I updated the food diary, and then emailed Tess, adding that I thought the children should be tested further. Clearly they couldn’t keep being sick, and whatever it was that was causing the problem needed to be identified quickly. While I was at my computer an email came through from the contact supervisor, listing what the children had had to eat and drink during contact. I added those to the food diary.

Molly and Kit weren’t sick again that week and on Friday Aneta was less hostile towards me at contact. At the end, when I collected the children, she – not Filip – brought them to me and asked how they’d been. I said that overall they’d had a good week, although they had both been sick earlier in the week and I had no idea what could have caused it, but I was logging everything they’d had to eat and drink in the food diary as Tess had asked me to.

‘Perhaps they’ll believe me now,’ she said, an edge to her voice. ‘Either I’m innocent or you are as guilty as me.’ She smiled humourlessly.

When children first come into care there is a lot of activity with meetings, medicals, phone calls, updates and so forth. Then it tends to settle down until the final court hearing approaches, when a decision will be made on where the children will live permanently and tension runs high. The final court hearing for Molly and Kit wouldn’t be until the following year to allow time for enquiries to be made, assessments to be completed and reports filed. The next day Tess emailed with the date of the children’s first review and said the booklets I needed to complete were in the post. All children in care have regular reviews. The children’s parents, social worker, teacher (if they are of school age), foster carer, the foster carer’s support social worker and any other professionals and adults closely connected with the children meet to ensure that everything is being done to help the child, and that the care plan (drawn up by the social services) is up to date. Very young children don’t attend their reviews, while older children are expected to.

Molly and Kit’s first review was the following Thursday at 2 p.m. at the council offices. Sometimes reviews are held at the foster carer’s home, if the children have been placed in care voluntarily, the parents are cooperating and there are no safeguarding issues. Kit and Molly, however, were the subject of a court order and their parents hadn’t been given my contact details. I emailed Edith, my supervising social worker, and asked if Maggie could babysit again while I attended the review. She replied by telephone and said she’d ask Maggie, and also that she needed to visit me, preferably the day after tomorrow at ten o’clock. As my supervising social worker, she visited every four to six weeks to check I was fostering to the required standard, give support and advice as necessary, discuss my training needs and sign off my log notes.

Just after her phone call the landline rang again and a woman introduced herself as Tamara Hastings, the Guardian ad Litem for Molly and Kit. The Guardian, as they are known for short, is appointed by the court in child-care proceedings for the duration of the case. He or she is a social worker but independent of the social services and has access to all the files. They see all parties involved in the case, including the children, their parents and social services, and report to the judge on what is in the best interest of the child. The judge usually follows their recommendation. I’d worked with many Guardians before and they are normally thorough and objective in their appraisal and report. I thought that if anyone could discover the truth of what had happened at Molly and Kit’s home then she would.

Chapter Twelve

Play Nicely

The review forms sent by Tess arrived – one for me as the foster carer to fill in and one for each child. Given that, at their ages, Molly and Kit couldn’t read or write, I would complete their forms for them. They were standard review forms, brightly illustrated to encourage the children to give their views on being in care. At eighteen months old, Kit was more interested in playing than the form, but Molly looked at it as I pointed to the questions and read them out. The first question asked if they knew why they were in care. Not really, only eighteen months old, I wrote on Kit’s. Molly said, ‘Because we kept going to the hospital.’ Which was interesting.

I wrote down exactly what she said but then reassured her that it wasn’t wrong to go to the hospital and she was in care to help her mummy and daddy. The next question asked what the child liked about living with their foster carer and what they didn’t like. On Kit’s form I’d written: Likes playing and going to the park, although he misses his mother. Unable to verbalize his feelings as only eighteen months old. Molly said she liked playing with the big girls (Lucy and Paula) and didn’t like not seeing her mummy. I wrote it down exactly. There were ten questions in all – some included emoji faces with various expressions, ranging from happy to sad to angry. I asked Molly to point to the ones that showed how she was feeling and I circled them. On the back of the booklets was space where the child had to sign their name and I helped Molly write her name and she looked very pleased with herself. I put the biro into Kit’s fist and helped him make a mark.

‘Mine’s better,’ Molly said.

‘Of course, you’re older,’ I smiled.

Beneath their ‘signatures’ was another space where the name of any person who had helped the child complete the form had to be entered and I wrote my name and role – foster carer. I would complete my form later when I had more time and then post them all to the reviewing officer in the envelope provided, so they arrived ahead of the review. The Independent Reviewing Officer (IRO) would run and chair the meeting.

Edith visited as planned and met Molly and Kit for the first time. She confirmed Maggie could babysit while I attended the review and that I should phone her to make the arrangements. We sat in the living room and as the children played she made notes on how the children were settling in – both from her observations and what I said. We discussed some of the issues that affected them, especially their illnesses. She read and signed my log notes and then produced a printed list of foster-carer training that was scheduled for the coming months. All foster carers are required to attend a minimum number of training sessions each year, and as an experienced carer I was expected to lead training too. So far this year I’d completed far more than the minimum, but I told Edith that while I’d fulfil my training obligations, I wouldn’t be taking on extra as I’d have to find a babysitter each time for Molly and Kit, which she noted. When I’d worked for Homefinders, an independent fostering agency, they’d provided a crèche for carers who were looking after babies and pre-school children so the carer could attend training. The local authority didn’t, and carers who foster infants sometimes struggle to meet their training requirements.