why is there so much contact?’ I asked, puzzled. ‘It seems cruel if there’s no chance of her going home.’
‘Susan’s barrister pushed for it in court and there was a good chance that if we hadn’t agreed the judge wouldn’t have granted us the care order.’
‘What?’ I asked, amazed. ‘With this level of neglect?’
‘I know, it’s ludicrous.’ Kristen sighed. ‘But the threshold for granting care orders is so high now that children are being left at home for longer than they should.’
Not for the first time I thought how badly the whole child protection and care system needed reviewing and revising. While no one wants to see a family split, early intervention can give a child another chance at life. By the age of eight most of the damage is done and it is very difficult to undo.
‘As mentioned in the referral,’ Kristen continued, checking the essential information forms she’d taken from her briefcase, ‘Aimee wets the bed.’
‘I’ve put a protective cover on the mattress,’ I said. ‘It’s not a problem.’
‘Good. It was at home. The mattress Aimee and her mother slept on in the lounge stank of urine. It was disgusting and you could smell it as soon as you walked into the flat. Now, as you know, Aimee needs firm boundaries and routine,’ Kristen continued. ‘There were none at home. And as I mentioned on the phone Susan is very good at making allegations and complaints against foster carers, so be careful. She seems to think that if she gets her children moved enough times they will eventually be returned to her, but of course it doesn’t work like that.’
‘Susan has contact with her other children?’ I asked.
‘Some. A lot of it is informal. Once kids become teenagers you can’t stop them getting on a bus and going to see their natural parents, and many of them seem to gravitate home.’ Kristen sighed again, and then, turning to the back page of the set of forms, said: ‘Can you sign this, please, and then we’ll show Aimee her room and I’ll be off.’
We both signed the relevant form which gave me the legal right to look after Aimee, and then we returned to the sitting room. Laura and Aimee were on the floor poring over a large-piece jigsaw. It was obvious Aimee hadn’t got a clue what to do and had been relying on Laura to do the puzzle for her – a puzzle for pre-school children aged two to four years.
‘Aimee,’ Kristen said brightly, ‘Cathy is going to show us your room now. Won’t that be nice?’
Aimee seemed to agree that it would be nice and hauled herself to her feet. I noticed she hadn’t got Jodie’s hyperactivity; if anything Aimee’s movements were very slow, lumbering almost. Laura stood and I led the way out of the sitting room, down the hall and upstairs. As we passed the bedrooms I said, ‘This is my daughter Paula’s bedroom. She’s seventeen. You’ll meet her later. And this is Lucy’s. She’s at work now.’
‘That’ll be nice, won’t it, Aimee?’ Lauren enthused. ‘Two grown-up girls to play with.’ I wondered if Paula had overhead this comment and what she thought of it!
Aimee didn’t say anything until we got to her room, when her face lit up. ‘Cor, this is nice. Is it all for me?’ she said with touching sincerity.
‘Yes. This is your room. Just for you,’ I said.
‘Can me mum come and stay with me? She’d like it ’ere,’ Aimee said, running her hands over the duvet on the bed.
‘No,’ Kristen said. ‘You’ll see your mum at the family centre. She won’t be able to come here.’
‘I know that,’ Aimee snapped. ‘You told me already. I ain’t thick.’
Kristen let it go but I could see how easily Aimee could change from being polite and engaging to confrontational and aggressive.
‘This is where you keep your clothes,’ I said, opening the wardrobe door, and then the drawers, to show her.
‘I won’t be needing all that,’ Aimee said. ‘I ain’t got many clothes.’
‘I’ll be buying you some,’ I said positively, with a smile.
‘No you won’t,’ Aimee said sharply. ‘That’s me mother’s job.’
‘Aimee,’ Laura said evenly, ‘while you are living here with Cathy she will buy your clothes and cook your meals, like your mother did at your house.’
‘But she didn’t,’ Aimee said, quick as a flash. ‘That why I’m in bleeding foster care. She didn’t buy me clothes. They were given to us. She didn’t take me to school, and she didn’t give me any boundaries, whatever they are. And she gave me too many biscuits, so me teeth got bad. That’s why I’m in foster care and not wiv me mum. You know that!’
I turned to stifle a smile as Aimee finished her lecture. Clearly Aimee didn’t miss much and she had such a quaint way of putting things – a mixture of child-like honesty and middle-aged weariness. I didn’t know if Aimee’s explanation of why she was in care was something that had been said to her, possibly by a social worker, or if it was a deduction Aimee had made, but it was accurate. Laura and Kristen were smiling too.
‘Is that telly mine?’ Aimee said, pointing to the small portable television on top of the chest of drawers.
‘Yes, it’s yours to use while you’re here,’ I confirmed. ‘But I limit its use. If you’ve had a good day you can watch it for a little while in bed before you go to sleep, but it’s a treat.’
‘And what if I ain’t had a good day?’ Aimee asked, turning to meet my gaze.
‘Then you won’t be watching it,’ I said clearly.
‘How you gonna stop me?’ Aimee challenged. Her eyes flashed in defiance and I saw the social workers looking at me, waiting for my reaction.
‘Very simple,’ I said. ‘I don’t turn on the television, or I remove it from the room.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Aimee said, her voice rising. ‘It ain’t allowed. I’ll tell me mum and she’ll have me moved from ’ere.’
Kristen and Laura exchanged another meaningful glance, for very likely Susan, employing tactics she’d used to disrupt the foster placements of her older children, had put this idea into her daughter’s head. I relied on my usual strategy of trying to defuse confrontation by focusing on the positive. ‘But I’m sure you won’t be losing your television time, Aimee,’ I said brightly. ‘I’ve heard you’re a good girl.’
I half expected her to say ‘No, I ain’t,’ but she didn’t. Indeed she looked quite taken aback that I’d suggested she could be good.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘That’s kind of ya.’
‘You’re welcome,’ I said.
I was warming to Aimee. I liked her spunky repartee when she stated her thoughts simply and directly. I liked the fact that she could look me in the eyes. So my first impression was that all was not lost and I hoped I could work with her and eventually make a difference. I was relieved and grateful that Aimee didn’t appear
