Another Forgotten Child (28 page)

‘I can understand why you are worried about your mum staying at JJ’s,’ I said. ‘But she is an adult and as an adult she makes her own decisions. Some of those decisions will be wrong, but that is not for you to worry about.’ I’d said similar things before, for Aimee, like other children I’d fostered, assumed responsibility for her mother, which was inappropriate and would make her anxious.

Aimee couldn’t tell me any more about JJ, his house or the man who’d answered the phone, so while she went off to play I wrote up the main points from the call in my fostering log. There wasn’t enough information as to where JJ lived to alert the police so that they could raid the house and close down the drug den, but the reference to JJ might be useful in future if more evidence came to light. And of course it was another indication of the dreadful life Aimee had led before coming in care, all of which I would pass on to her new social worker when we had one.

Aimee saw her mother at contact the following day and then again on Friday. As usual I took her into the centre at the start of contact and then waited in the car at the end of contact for the supervisor to bring her out to me. Aimee was grumpy and unsettled after each contact and it wasn’t obvious why. The contact supervisor hadn’t given me any feedback and when I asked her if contact had gone well she said ‘Yes’ and hurried back to the centre, presumably wanting to see Susan off the premises so she could go home. When I asked Aimee if she’d had a nice time with her mother she shrugged and said, ‘Suppose so.’ Seeing her mother must have stirred up many painful memoires and must have been difficult for her and Susan. Given that Aimee definitely wouldn’t be returned to live with her mother I again wondered if seeing her mother three times a week plus telephone contact was in her or her mother’s best interest. But contact had been set by the judge in accordance with family law, and until the law is changed nothing can be done for cases like Aimee’s.

Saturday was New Year’s Eve and I explained its significance to Aimee. Lucy and Paula had been invited to friends’ parties and were sleeping at their friends’ houses, so I didn’t have to worry about getting them home. Adrian was going out with a few of his mates to a nightclub in town which was holding a ticketed event, and they’d booked a cab at an extortionate fee to drop them off at their respective houses afterwards.

That left Aimee and me to see in the New Year together, and Aimee was soon caught up in the excitement. We cooked popcorn, made some chocolate crispy cakes, opened a bottle of fizzy drink and then settled on the sofa with our drinks and nibbles. We played with some of the games she’d had for Christmas and then watched a children’s film on television, but by eleven o’clock Aimee was fast asleep with her head resting on my shoulder, and I was starting to doze too. Then suddenly my eyes shot open as a loud cheer rose from the television, together with a male voice starting the countdown to midnight.

‘Come on, wake up, Aimee,’ I said, gently shaking her shoulder. ‘It’s nearly midnight. Soon it will be a new year.’

Aimee lifted her head from my shoulder and stared, bleary-eyed, at the screen as the revellers in central London continued the countdown. Big Ben began to strike midnight and the crowd shouted, whooped and jumped for joy; fireworks began exploding into the night sky, both on the television and outside.

‘Happy New Year,’ I said to Aimee and gave her a big hug.

‘Happy New Year,’ she returned sleepily, her eyes already starting to close.

Switching off the television, I then helped one very tired child off the sofa and upstairs. We stopped off in the bathroom for her to go to the toilet and have a quick wash and brush her teeth; then I helped her into bed. As soon as her head touched the pillow her eyes closed again. ‘Hug,’ she said dreamily without opening her eyes. I gave her a goodnight hug and kissed her forehead.

‘Night, love,’ I whispered, but there was no reply, Aimee was fast asleep.

I gave her forehead another kiss and then crept from the room. Would she be with us this time next year? I dearly hoped so, and every year.

Adrian was returning to university on Wednesday, and Paula and I helped him load the car and then kissed him goodbye in the hall. Lucy was at work – he’d said goodbye to her that morning – and at my suggestion he’d already said goodbye to Aimee. I’d then settled her at the table in the kitchen with paints and paper while we helped Adrian load the car and say goodbye, thereby avoiding any chance of her wanting to kiss Adrian goodbye and inviting another allegation from Susan. It was sad that I had to take this and similar precautions but they were necessary for Adrian’s protection, as he understood. As we waved goodbye I felt pretty confident that nothing had happened over Christmas and the New Year that if Aimee told her mother could be misinterpreted by her and result in another allegation. But it was impossible to be 100 per cent certain.

The following day Paula returned to the sixth form to continue studying for her A-level exams, and Aimee’s school returned for the spring term. It was a wrench getting back in the routine after the lovely Christmas break, made worse by the grey skies, short days and long winter nights. But once we were in the routine the weeks flew by and it was only when we reached the end of January that I realized a whole month had passed without any contact from the social services, presumably because there was no social worker assigned to Aimee’s case. Jill had phoned me for regular updates and had also visited – one of her six-weekly supervisory visits, which all support social workers should make.

During the month Aimee also had her second dental appointment to complete her treatment. The dentist still looked a bit wary when he saw her, remembering the first time when she’d bitten him, but she was good and kept her mouth open for what was an unpleasant but necessary procedure. When he’d finished he told Aimee that as long as she brushed her teeth thoroughly and didn’t eat too many sweet foods she shouldn’t need any more fillings, which I repeated to Aimee outside the surgery, and later at bedtime.

Aimee continued to make progress at school in January. I saw her TA, Heather, in the playground at the end of school and she kept me informed. Aimee also made another new friend, who lived closer to us than some of her other friends, and we invited her to tea. Contact at the family centre continued, with no feedback from the supervisor, and the phone calls to Susan were problematic – as to whether she answered or not. There were no complaints from Susan (through the duty social worker) and while Susan didn’t speak to me on the phone, neither did she go out of her way to criticize me or make nasty remarks as she had done previously. I thought that perhaps she was finally losing her anger and accepting that her child was in care. I’d seen parents of other children I’d fostered adjust and then work with the social services and the carer. Not that it would change the outcome for Aimee – Susan wouldn’t be allowed to keep Aimee, as there was too much history of drug addiction, abuse and neglect – but at least it could make life more pleasant for all those involved, especially Aimee, who would gradually become less anxious about her mother’s welfare.

Then at the beginning of February there was a sudden burst of activity. A team manager from the social services phoned and, having apologized that Aimee had been left without a social worker for so long, said a new permanent social worker was being appointed and would be in place the following week. Then the day after, Eva, the Guardian, phoned and said she’d like to visit me at the end of the week. I was looking forward to seeing her again, as I hoped by now she’d have read the files and have the answer to the question everyone was asking: why had Aimee been left to suffer at home for so long?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jason

As soon as we’d settled with coffee in the sitting room Eva looked at me gravely and took a moment before speaking. I’d formed the impression from when I’d met her before that she was very conscientious in her role as a Guardian Ad Litem. This was confirmed by what she now said.

‘As a society I believe we have a collective responsibility to protect our children and keep them safe, but we have failed miserably with Aimee. She was left unprotected to suffer when all the warning signs were there. Not only did her parents let her down but so too has the social care system; we are individually and collectively to blame. Just before Christmas I was given access to the social services’ files, and I took them home and read them over Christmas and the New Year. Six very thick files – one for each of Susan’s children. I was shocked and deeply saddened by what I read. There will be an inquiry into what has gone wrong; lessons need to be learned.’

Eva paused to sip her coffee and I waited, tense with anticipation yet almost dreading what I was about to hear.

‘Aimee was on the “at risk” register at birth,’ Eva continued, setting her cup slowly in the saucer. ‘Having read the files, it is my opinion Aimee should have been removed at birth. Nothing had changed in Susan’s life since her older children were taken into care, and it’s not clear why the decision to remove Aimee wasn’t taken when she was born. Susan was still using drugs and her flat was filthy. The social worker at the time noted that Susan appeared agitated and confused. Susan claimed she was receiving help from a woman she referred to as Nana Jane. There is no indication who this woman was, and no one seems to have met her. But it is possible that Susan’s claim she was receiving this support persuaded the social services that Susan could care for Aimee with this woman’s help. Also at that time, Susan said Aimee’s father was helping her to parent Aimee, although my research shows he was in prison for most of that period.’ Eva sighed and paused to take a breath.

‘Aimee was kept on the “at risk” register and monitored for two years,’ Eva said, looking directly at me. ‘Then for reasons I don’t understand she was taken off the register, as she was considered to be no longer at risk. Susan then disappeared with Aimee and they went “under the radar” for the next year. There is no indication of where they were living, on what or with whom, but I can guess it was pretty dreadful. They briefly reappeared when Aimee was three, when Susan took her to hospital with a cut to her leg, claiming Aimee had fallen off a swing. She needed four stitches. The doctor had concerns about Aimee’s general condition and alerted the social services. Susan didn’t return to the hospital to have the stitches removed, and mother and daughter disappeared again for another six months. Then they reappeared in a neighbouring county, where Susan put Aimee into nursery. Concerns were immediately raised by the head teacher of the nursery: Aimee always arrived late, was grubby, hungry, and appeared to be developmentally delayed. When the staff tried to talk to Susan about their concerns she became very agitated and aggressive.’

I nodded, aware just how intimidating Susan could be when angry.

‘The school alerted the social services and after a case conference Aimee was put on the “at risk” register again, and there was some talk about her being brought into care. But Susan disappeared with Aimee before any further action could be taken. What steps were made to trace her and Aimee isn’t clear. There were a number of social workers involved and the notes are inconclusive. A few months later when Aimee was four Susan reappeared in the area she now lives in and registered Aimee at the nursery at Hayward Primary School – her present school.

‘When you say “disappeared”, what exactly do you mean?’ I asked. ‘I thought there was a central register to stop this type of thing happening, and that all the agencies – health, education and so on – worked together?’

Eva gave a small cynical smile. ‘That was the government’s plan, but we’re a long way from that yet. And remember, this was eight years ago. Many families who came to the notice of the social services kept moving to avoid detection. It took time for the social services to catch up – it still does sometimes – and by then the family had moved again.’

I shook my head in disbelief: that with all the modern communication systems and databases it was still possible for families at risk to simply disappear. ‘But Aimee’s school raised concerns right from the beginning,’ I said. ‘When I met Lynn Burrows, when Aimee first came to me, Lynn told me she’d been phoning the social services ever since Aimee joined the school – four years ago.’

‘That’s right,’ Eva said. ‘Aimee was still on the “at risk” register and was being monitored. But Susan is very good at telling professionals what they want to hear. She’s had a lot of practice with her older children. And possibly the case was given to an inexperienced social worker who wanted to see the best in people, or a social worker with a huge caseload. Whatever the case, the outcome was that Aimee was taken off the “at risk” register two years later when she was six.’

‘To continue living in squalor, sleeping at crack houses and being abused!’ I said scathingly.

Eva nodded solemnly. ‘Although the social services clearly didn’t know all that at the time,’ she said, offering a small defence. ‘Fortunately, Lynn Burrows kept raising concerns. The records show Aimee’s attendance at school was very poor and when she did appear she was filthy with head lice, sores around her mouth and bruises on her arms and legs. Lynn also reported that Susan was impossible to deal with and was often angry and verbally abusive. In fact all the concerns that had been raised before. Aimee was put back on the “at risk” register and then one day Aimee told Lynn that her father had hit her and showed her fresh bruises. A social worker made an unannounced visit to the flat and found it, quote, “unfit for human habitation”. It was filthy, there were no carpets, curtains or bed for Aimee, no food, heating or lighting, and dog excrement on the floor. An unnamed male was sitting on the sofa smoking an illegal substance and watching an adult movie while Aimee sat next to him. An emergency child protection case conference was convened, but even then it took three months to bring Aimee into care.’

‘Why?’ I gasped in amazement. ‘Why did it take so long?’

‘In court, through her barrister and solicitor, Susan told the judge what he wanted to hear: that she needed help and promised to cooperate and work with the social services. Susan vowed to do all that was necessary to keep Aimee, including attending a drug rehabilitation programme. I understand it was a very emotional plea and it clearly worked, for the judge agreed to give Susan one last chance. One chance too many, in my view. The rest you know. Despite all the help that was put in, nothing changed and Aimee was finally removed and came to you.’