at Aimee, who was doing neither. ‘Shall we leave your shoes and coat here?’ I said encouragingly.
‘No. Not taking ’em off,’ Aimee said, jutting out her chin in defiance. ‘And you can’t make me.’ My fault, I thought, for giving her a choice. What I should have said was: ‘Would you like to take off your coat first or your shoes?’ It’s a technique called ‘the closed choice’ and would have resulted in action rather than refusal.
‘No problem,’ I said easily. ‘You can do it later.’
‘Not taking ’em off at all,’ Aimee said challengingly. The two social workers looked at me and then raised their eyes.
‘You can keep your shoes and coat on for now,’ I said, aware I needed to be seen to be in charge. ‘And we’ll take them off later. Come on through.’ Before Aimee could give me another refusal I turned and led the way down the hall and into the sitting room. My thoughts went again to Jodie. Although Aimee was the same age as Jodie, with similar blonde hair and grey-blue eyes, she wasn’t so badly overweight and also seemed more astute. I knew I would need my wits about me in order to gain her cooperation.
In the sitting room Aimee plonked herself in the middle of the sofa, which left the two social workers to squeeze themselves in either side of her. ‘This is nice,’ Aimee said, running her eyes around the room. ‘It ain’t like this at my house. My ’ouse is a pigsty.’ I smiled sadly at her heartfelt and innocent comparison – she was simply stating it as she saw it.
‘No,’ Kristen agreed, seizing the chance to demonstrate what an improvement coming into care was. ‘Cathy’s house is clean and warm and has lots of nice furniture. You’ll have your own room here – we’ll see it soon. And there’ll always be plenty of food and hot water.’ All of which I assumed had been missing from Aimee’s house.
‘It’s nice, but it ain’t me home,’ Aimee said.
‘It will be for now,’ Laura put in.
‘No it won’t,’ Aimee said, louder, turning to Laura and jutting out her chin. ‘Me home’s with me mother and neither you nor your bleeding lawyers can change that.’
Kristen and Laura both looked at me. ‘I can guess where that’s come from,’ Kristen said. I nodded. It was a phrase an adult would have used, not an eight-year-old child, so I assumed Aimee was repeating something her mother had said.
‘Cathy will be taking you to school and collecting you,’ Kristen continued, unperturbed. ‘And tomorrow you’ll be able to see your mother after school.’ Then, looking at me, Kristen said: ‘I’ll speak to you later about contact arrangements.’
‘OK,’ I said. Then I offered them a drink, as I hadn’t done so before.
‘No, I’m fine, thanks,’ Kristen said. ‘We’ll settle Aimee and then get back to the office.’ Laura agreed.
‘What about you, Aimee?’ I said. ‘Would you like a drink?’
She shook her head, more interested in the objects in the room, which she was gazing at in awe, like a child in a toyshop. My sitting room was nothing special, but it clearly was to Aimee, who seemed mesmerized by the framed photographs on the walls, the potted plants, ornaments, etc. like those that adorn most sitting rooms.
‘Aimee has one bag with her,’ Kristen said. ‘It’s in the hall.’ I nodded. ‘We’ll try to get some more of her things when Mum has calmed down, but I’m not sure how much use they’ll be.’ I nodded again, as I understood what she meant. If the clothes Aimee wore now were representative of the rest of her clothes, the others were likely to be suitable for the ragbag. The jacket she’d refused to take off was far too small, dirty and badly worn; the faded black jogging bottoms were too short and badly stained; and her plastic trainers had split at both toes, so that her socks poked through. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a child so poorly dressed.
‘Is she in her school uniform?’ I asked, mindful that Aimee had come to me straight from school.
‘What there is of it,’ Kristen said. ‘You’ll need to buy her a whole new uniform. I’ll arrange for you to have the initial clothing allowance.’ This allowance – approximately £80 – is a payment made to foster carers when a child arrives with nothing and needs a whole new wardrobe. It is often weeks before the money is paid and it only goes some way towards the clothes a child needs, but at least it is something.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘Is there somewhere private where we can go to talk?’ Kristen said to me. ‘Laura could stay here with Aimee.’
‘Of course,’ I said, standing. ‘We can go in the front room. There are some games over there,’ I said to Aimee and Laura, pointing to the boxes of games I’d brought in.
Laura stood and went over to select a game while Aimee remained on the sofa, studying its fabric as though she’d never seen anything like it before. Then she began struggling out of her jacket. ‘It’s bleeding hot in ’ere,’ she said. ‘I’m gonna take me coat off.’
‘Good choice,’ I said, throwing her a smile.
Kristen took some papers from her briefcase and as we left the room we heard Laura suggest to Aimee they do a jigsaw together and Aimee ask what a jigsaw was.
‘Aimee is eight,’ I said quietly to Kristen in the hall. ‘And she doesn’t know what a jigsaw is?’
‘It doesn’t surprise me,’ Kristen said. ‘She’s been so neglected. There were never any toys at her mother’s flat, so Aimee watched television all day and night. Susan said the toys were at Aimee’s father’s flat but he wouldn’t let me in, so I could never substantiate that. I doubt there were toys there, though. All their money went on drugs.’
Once we were in the front room with the door closed Kristen confided that Aimee’s was one of the worse cases of neglect she’d ever come across, and repeated that she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t been removed from home sooner. Then she said again that Aimee had very bad head lice, so my family and I should be careful not to catch them.
‘I’ll treat her hair tonight,’ I said. ‘I have a bottle of lotion.’
‘Good,’ Kristen said. ‘She needs a bath as well. She smells something awful.’
I nodded, for I had noticed as she’d walked in. ‘I’ll do that as well before she goes to bed.’
‘You know Aimee used to kick and bite her mother when she tried to wash her?’ Kristen reminded me.
‘Yes, I know. I read it in the referral.’
‘There’s a high level of contact with her mother,’ Kristen said, moving on. ‘Face-to-face contact will be supervised at the family centre and it will take place after school on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. There will be telephone contact every night they don’t see each other, including weekends. Can you monitor the phone contact, please, on speakerphone?’
‘Yes,’ I said. This was something I was often asked to do. ‘So is the care plan eventually to return Aimee home?’ I asked. That was the most likely explanation for the very high level of contact – so that the bond between Aimee and her mother would be maintained for when Aimee was eventually rehabilitated at home.
‘Good
