I said.
‘No, you won’t,’ Maggie replied. ‘We will all help.’
Maggie and I joined Keelie on the floor and began packing away as Molly and Kit continued to watch Keelie, probably having never seen a teenager playing so enthusiastically before.
‘I’ve got to start a food diary to try to identify if the children are allergic to anything,’ I told Maggie as we tidied away. ‘Have Molly and Kit had anything to eat and drink this afternoon? I’ll make a note.’
‘Just apple juice. They didn’t want a snack.’
‘OK, thanks.’
Before long most of the toys were in their boxes, although I left some out for Molly and Kit to play with while I saw Maggie and Keelie out. I gave Maggie a box of chocolates as a thank-you gift.
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ she said.
‘Yes, she should,’ Keelie said, taking them from her. ‘If you don’t want them, I’ll have them – I did all the work.’
‘You can have a couple and we’ll save the rest for later,’ Maggie told her, and Keelie pulled a face. Opening the front door, she began down the path eating the chocolates as she went. Maggie turned to me thoughtfully. ‘Molly and Kit were fine, they didn’t cry, but there’s something about them, isn’t there?’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘I know they’ve just come into care so they’re bound to be quiet, but they wouldn’t talk, not even to Keelie, and there’s a haunted look in their eyes. I’m sure they’ve got secrets. Anyway, let me know if you need any help again.’
‘Yes, I will, thank you.’
I watched her go and then slowly closed the door. A haunted look … yes, that summed up Molly and Kit perfectly, I thought. Even when they weren’t upset there was something in their eyes, a burden they carried, which at their age they found impossible to understand or communicate. If they couldn’t verbalize their suffering, it might come out in play, but not yet. They were where I’d left them in the living room, sitting on the floor by the toy box, and Molly had her arm around Kit.
‘Did you have a nice time with Keelie?’ I asked.
Both children stared at me, and then Molly managed a small nod.
‘Good. You’re going to see your mummy and daddy soon, so let’s get you ready.’
‘Mummy?’ Molly asked.
‘Yes, we are going in my car so you can see Mummy and Daddy at what’s called a Family Centre.’
Holding a hand each, I took the children upstairs where I washed their hands and faces and then changed Kit’s top and nappy. Molly’s clothes were still clean. I always liked the children I cared for to look smart for contact, as it helped to reassure the parents and gave their meeting a sense of occasion, although of course Molly and Kit were too young to appreciate that.
‘Mummy?’ Molly asked again as we returned downstairs.
‘Yes, you’re going to see Mummy and Daddy very soon.’
‘At my home?’
‘No, love, at the Family Centre. It’s like a home, with toys, books, games and chairs to sit on. You will see them for an hour or so and then I’ll bring you back here.’ I wasn’t sure how long contact would be, as Tess hadn’t told me, but it’s usually an hour and a half, sometimes two.
Before I left the house, I sent a message to Paula, Lucy and Adrian on our WhatsApp group to let them know I was taking Molly and Kit to contact and wasn’t sure what time I’d be back.
I was glad I’d already fixed the car seats in place the day before, because I’d forgotten how long it took to leave the house with two little ones. I’d also packed a bag with nappies, wipes and a drink of water for both children. The clothes the children were wearing were suitable for early September, but if no warmer clothes arrived from home then I’d buy winter clothes soon before the weather turned cold.
‘Where’s Mummy?’ Molly asked from the back seat as I drove.
‘At the Family Centre. You’re going to see Mummy and Daddy there soon.’ The children only ever asked for Mummy, not Daddy, which made more sense now I knew Filip worked very long hours. Aneta had been the children’s main care-giver, so it was natural that they would ask for her.
I’d taken many children I’d fostered in the past to the Family Centre to see their parents, and I knew that to begin with it could be difficult for everyone. Feelings run high, the children are upset, and the parents are angry that their children are in care and the only way they can see them is in supervised contact at the Family Centre for a few hours a week. Children usually adapt more quickly than their parents. The Family Centre has six contact rooms, which are attractively decorated and furnished to look like living rooms, all well stocked with games and toys. There’s a communal kitchen, bathroom and separate WCs, but the parents are continually observed with their children by a contact supervisor who also takes notes. The parents are aware that their report will go to the social worker who will incorporate it into their report to the judge, so ultimately what the contact supervisor writes will form part of the judge’s decision on whether the child is allowed home. The supervisor’s report includes comments on the parents’ relationship with their child – positive and negative. I think it’s an awful position for a parent to be in, but there is little alternative if contact needs to be supervised.
‘Is Mummy here?’ Molly asked as I parked outside the Family Centre.
‘Yes, Mummy and Daddy should be waiting inside,’ I replied. Molly was looking out of her side window at the building, while Kit was cautiously watching me. I met his gaze and smiled. The poor child looked scared and confused. I hoped that seeing their parents would reassure the children.
I undid their harnesses and helped them out of their car seats. Taking them by the hand, I walked with them slowly up the path to the security-locked main door where I pressed the buzzer. The closed-circuit television camera above us was monitored in the office, and a few moments later the door clicked open and we went in. Tess was waiting in reception. ‘Hello,’ she said brightly to us all.
Sometimes the social worker is present at the first contact, then after that they observe contact every few months, although they are sent the supervisor’s reports after each session. The parents would have been shown around the building and had the house rules explained to them. They would also have signed a written agreement that outlined the arrangements and expectations for contact.
‘The parents are in Blue Room,’ Tess said. Each of the rooms is known by the colour it is decorated. ‘I’ll take the children through. Filip has brought in some more of the children’s belongings.’ She nodded to a suitcase standing to one side. ‘He said he’s put the appointment card for the fracture clinic in there with the notes they were given on the care of the plaster.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Also, I’ve arranged a medical for the children on Monday afternoon,’ Tess continued as the children stood quietly beside me. ‘I’ve emailed the details to you.’
‘OK, thanks. I haven’t
