‘No. She was talking to her parents at home,’ Tess said. Then to Molly, ‘You can hear me, can’t you?’
She gave a small nod. It therefore seemed it must be the trauma of coming into care that was responsible, and possibly what had been going on at home. I’d seen it before in abused children – sometimes it was days before they were able to speak.
‘Let’s go downstairs and I’ll tell you what I know,’ Tess said to me. ‘I haven’t got the Essential Information Form, it’s being completed now. I’ll email it to you, and the placement agreement form.’ In a planned move, this paperwork arrived with the social worker when the child was placed and gave their background information and the reasons they were in care.
We returned downstairs to the living room where Kit was as we’d left him, sitting on Preeta’s lap. She had taken a toy fire engine with flashing lights and a siren from the toy box and was trying to interest him in it, but he wasn’t even touching it – another indication of how traumatized the children were. Molly sat on the sofa beside Preeta and Kit and put her hand on his arm. Tess sat next to her. I asked both social workers if they would like a drink, and they wanted coffee. I also asked Molly and Kit if they’d like a drink, but they just looked at me. ‘I’ll get you some water and you can have it if you want,’ I told the children with a reassuring smile.
In the kitchen I made two coffees and filled the trainer cup with water for Kit and a child’s plastic beaker for Molly. I put some biscuits on a plate and then carried everything on a tray into the living room where I set it on the occasional table. As Tess and Preeta took their coffees – keeping the hot liquid away from the children – I offered Molly and Kit their drinks, but they didn’t want them. ‘OK, maybe later,’ I said. ‘Would you like a biscuit?’ I showed them the plate but got the same response.
At that moment I heard a key go in the front door and the door open. Molly started. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘That will be my youngest daughter, Paula, returning from college.’
‘Who else lives here?’ Tess asked. Setting down her coffee, she took a pen and notepad from her bag. I guessed in all the rush she had as little information about me as I did about the children.
‘As well as Paula, there is Adrian, my son, and Lucy, my other daughter. And Sammy the cat,’ I added, smiling at Molly. ‘He must be in the garden. You’ll meet him later.’
‘And your children’s ages?’ Tess asked. I told her.
‘Do you like cats?’ Preeta asked Molly, but she didn’t reply.
‘They don’t have any animals at home,’ Tess said as she wrote.
Paula appeared at the living-room door and smiled a little self-consciously. ‘Oh they’re sweet,’ she said. The children shifted their gaze to her.
‘This is Molly and Kit,’ I said. ‘Can you join us? I think it might help them.’ So often, looked-after children take to the carer’s children before they feel relaxed enough to begin to form a relationship with the carer.
‘Sure,’ Paula said, coming further into the room. ‘Shall I play with them?’
‘Yes, please.’ I took some of the toys out of the box as Paula sat on the floor beside them.
‘Do you want to play with these farm animals?’ she asked the children. Molly stared at her, but Kit scrambled down from Preeta’s lap and sat near Paula.
‘Well done,’ I said to her.
‘You’ve hurt your arm,’ she said to Kit, referring to the plaster. Molly, wanting to stay close to her brother, now left the sofa and sat beside him.
I smiled, relieved. It was a start.
‘I’ll give you some background information, then perhaps we can go into another room for the rest?’ Tess suggested, so I knew that some of what she had to tell me she didn’t want the children to hear. While Kit at eighteen months would have a limited understanding of what he heard, Molly at three and a half would probably understand most of it. Bad enough to have witnessed whatever had happened at home without having to hear it discussed.
‘The parents are called Aneta and Filip,’ Tess began. ‘Filip is forty and fifteen years older than his wife. They have been married five years and these are their only children. They live in Eastwood.’ It was a new housing estate on the edge of town. ‘Aneta is a full-time mother and homemaker, and Filip is a warehouse manager who works very long hours. The family hadn’t come to the attention of the social services before the start of this week. Aneta took Kit to the hospital in a lot of pain, and he was found to have a fractured arm. The mother is claiming he fell down the stairs, but the doctor had doubts.’
I saw Molly look over. Tess and Preeta saw it too. ‘Why don’t I go somewhere private now to talk to Cathy,’ Tess suggested to Preeta, ‘while you stay here with the children?’
‘Yes, I think that’s best,’ Preeta replied.
‘Are you OK to stay here too?’ I asked Paula, aware that she would have college work to do.
‘Yes.’
‘We’ll be in the front room,’ I said.
Preeta joined Paula and the little ones on the floor with the toys as Tess quickly finished the last of her coffee and stood. I showed her into the front room where she closed the door so we couldn’t be overheard. Away from the little ones, her professional reserve and composure dropped and she sank into one of the armchairs. ‘Who’d be a social worker?’ she said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘It doesn’t get much worse than this.’
Chapter Two
‘The children’s mother, Aneta, was hysterical,’ Tess continued as we sat in the front room. ‘It was dreadful. She was clinging to the children, screaming and crying, trying to fight us off and stop us from taking them. The father – Filip – had to restrain her so we could leave with the children. Only he was in court; she stayed at home with the children. I’ve told him to call their doctor. I’ll phone him after we’ve left here. He managed to pack a case with a few things for the children. Aneta couldn’t. It’s in my car – don’t let me drive off with it.’
My heart ached from the scene Tess had just described. ‘So the parents had no idea the children would be coming into care?’ I asked.
‘They knew we were going to court this morning. We advised them to get legal representation, but they didn’t think it would be necessary. They will contact a solicitor now,’ Tess said, and I nodded. ‘Aneta insists Kit fell downstairs. Filip was at work and is standing by his wife and maintains she would never harm the children, that she loves them too much.’ She paused to check her phone, which was on silent. I knew there must be more to it than this, as the judge would never allow the social services to remove the children because of one accident. ‘That visit to the hospital’, Tess continued, returning the phone to her pocket, ‘was the sixtieth time she’d been with Kit.’
‘What?’ I gasped. ‘He’s only eighteen months old. That makes a visit nearly every week!’
Tess nodded sombrely. ‘Questions will be asked as to why the social services weren’t involved sooner. True, many of the previous visits were for ailments and minor injuries, but even so. Aneta was turning up regularly, saying the child had tripped and fallen, was sick, had ingested something they shouldn’t, had a cough, rash or high temperature. She was clearly anxious about her children’s health, but it was only on Monday when it was found that Kit had a broken arm that the history of her visits was thoroughly reviewed and the alarm raised. Now it seems similar had been going on at their doctor’s. I’m applying for the children’s medical records,