I’m not letting them go again!’ Aneta suddenly shrieked, and clasped both children to her. She took Kit on her lap and had her other arm tightly around Molly. Indeed, she was holding them so tightly I thought they must be uncomfortable, but they didn’t squirm or try to pull away. ‘I’m not letting them go!’ Aneta cried again, her face contorted in panic and fear. She clung desperately to her children. It was pitiful and I knew it would be upsetting for Molly and Kit. The sooner we left the better, but it wasn’t for me to take the initiative. I looked at the supervisor.
‘It’s after five-thirty,’ she said, glancing up from writing. Perhaps she was inexperienced – some of them are – for I would have thought her priority ought to have been to end contact as positively as possible, and then finish writing her notes after.
‘Go away! You’re not having my children!’ Aneta shrieked hysterically, jerking the children closer. They both began to cry.
‘I think they have to go,’ Filip said ineffectually.
‘No, never! You’ll have to tear them off me.’ I’m sure Aneta didn’t appreciate that her behaviour was upsetting the children. Most parents don’t want to say goodbye at the end of contact, but they put on a brave face for the sake of their children. Sometimes I’ve looked back as I’ve left contact and seen parents crying, having waited until their children couldn’t see them. But Aneta appeared to be so wound up in her own grief that she was blind to the effect it was having on Molly and Kit, who were now sobbing uncontrollably.
‘Tell her to go away!’ she cried, meaning me. I could see my presence was antagonizing her.
‘Shall I wait outside?’ I asked the contact supervisor.
She just looked at me, not sure what to do for the best. ‘It’s the end of contact,’ she said to Aneta and Filip.
‘Don’t care!’ Aneta cried. ‘She’s not having my children!’
‘I’ll wait outside,’ I said, and, going out, I closed the door behind me. I could hear Aneta shouting and crying and the children sobbing – so could others in the building. It was very disturbing.
A few minutes later the door opened and the contact supervisor came out, flustered. ‘I’m going to get the manager,’ she said, and closed the door behind her, effectively leaving the children with their parents unsupervised.
As I waited, other children leaving with their carers looked over, worried and able to identify with this family’s distress. It was upsetting for everyone. Aneta’s hysterical shouting and crying continued, but I couldn’t hear Filip say anything. Presently the contact supervisor returned with the manager. Both looked anxious and disappeared into the room without comment, closing the door behind them.
I waited. I could hear the low tone of the manger’s voice as she talked steadily and calmly to Aneta. The centre emptied and gradually Aneta’s hysteria eased. The children stopped crying too. Fifteen minutes or so later the door opened and the contact supervisor appeared with Molly and Kit. ‘Take them now and leave,’ she said, urgency in her voice. I could see past her to where Aneta was sitting on the sofa, Filip on one side and the manager on the other, leaning into her.
‘This is for you,’ the contact supervisor said, handing me a carrier bag. ‘It’s the children’s medicines. In case they’re ill. There’s a lot.’
‘Oh,’ I said, surprised. ‘Does anything have to be taken now?’ It hadn’t been mentioned.
‘I don’t think so. Aneta said to follow the instructions on the packet.’
I hung the bag over my arm and took the children by the hand. At that moment Aneta seemed to realize what was happening and with a shriek of sheer distress like a wounded animal she made a dash for the door. Filip shot after her and grabbed her. The last image the children had of their parents was of their mother, her face twisted in anguish, being restrained by their father. It was an image that would stay with them for a very long time.
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