About an hour later I heard Molly crying again. I wasn’t asleep and managed to get to her before she woke Kit or anyone else. I stayed with her until she was asleep again and then returned to my own bed. I didn’t immediately go back to sleep but lay in the dark, listening out for them. I heard Kit’s plaster cast bang on the side of the cot as he turned over, then I must have dropped off, for I woke with a start at 2 a.m. Kit and Molly were both crying.
Light-headed from lack of sleep and getting out of bed too quickly, I rushed round the landing and into their bedroom. Molly was standing in the middle of the room. ‘I need a wee-wee,’ she wept.
‘This way, love,’ I said, and quickly guided her to the toilet. We got there just in time. Kit was still crying loudly and I heard Lucy’s bedroom door open.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said to her as I steered Molly back to her bed. Lucy was kneeling beside Kit’s cot with her hand between the slats, gently rubbing his back. She looked as shattered as I felt.
‘It’s OK, Mum,’ she said, yawning. ‘It’s their first night. They’re bound to be upset. I’m sure they’ll be better tomorrow.’ Which was the reassurance I needed and I was grateful.
It took about twenty minutes for us to settle the children again and then Lucy and I returned to our beds. The next time Molly woke I got to her in time (I don’t think I was properly asleep) and managed to resettle her before she woke Kit. I was starting to wonder if having them together was a good idea or whether I should move Kit’s cot into my bedroom. Foster carers are allowed to have babies and toddlers in their bedroom (but not their beds) up to the age of two. I’d find out from the children’s parents tomorrow if they were used to sleeping together. It’s information like this and the child’s routine that is invaluable to foster carers when helping a child to settle.
Both children woke around 5 a.m. and I managed to settle them by myself. I think they were so tired they didn’t put up much resistance. Ten minutes later I was in my bed again but I couldn’t sleep. I lay in the dark with my thoughts buzzing and at 6 a.m. I showered and dressed so I was ready to meet the day. Adrian, Lucy and Paula took turns in the bathroom from seven o’clock, which was usual on a week day. When I asked Paula if she’d heard the children in the night, she said she had but, aware that Lucy was helping, she had turned over and gone back to sleep. ‘We can take it in turns, Mum,’ she offered. ‘I’ll get up tonight.’
‘That’s kind of you. I’m hoping they’ll sleep a bit better tonight.’
‘But if not, I can help.’
‘Thanks, love.’
Incredibly, when I asked Adrian if he’d been woken by Molly and Kit, he hadn’t, although he slept in the room next to theirs.
‘Typical guy,’ Lucy teased him. ‘Only hears what he wants to.’
The children didn’t wake again until just before 8 a.m. I heard Molly talking to Kit and went straight to their bedroom. ‘Good morning,’ I said brightly, smiling. Molly was standing by Kit’s cot holding his hand through the slats. Although they weren’t crying, they were clearly sad and confused.
‘Where’s my mummy?’ Molly asked straight away, turning to me and dropping Kit’s hand.
‘She’s at home, love. You’ll see her before too long.’ I couldn’t give firm details until Tess told me the arrangements for contact.
‘Can I go home now?’ Molly asked imploringly. ‘I promise to be good.’ I could have wept.
‘You are good, love,’ I said, giving her a hug. ‘That’s not the reason you’re staying with me. Your mummy and daddy need a bit of help, so I’m looking after you for a while.’
She stared at me wide-eyed and uncomprehending. I thought it best to keep her occupied and concentrated on something else. ‘Can you show me what a big girl you are and dress yourself while I see to your brother?’ I asked her. ‘Here are your clothes.’ I pointed to them on the bed and then lifted Kit out of his cot.
‘I need to do a wee-wee,’ she said.
‘Good girl for telling me.’
I took Kit with us as I helped Molly in the toilet and then we returned to their bedroom. With a bit of encouragement, Molly began to dress herself and I dressed Kit. Paula, Lucy and Adrian either looked in to say goodbye or called from the hall as they left.
Many toddlers of Kit’s age are like wriggly worms when you try to change their nappies and dress them, seeing it as a game. Kit just lay there on the changing mat, unresponsive and staring at me, clearly wondering where his mummy and daddy were, what he was doing here and who the hell I was. I smiled at him and spoke gently as I worked, so hopefully he could see I was friendly and would do him no harm. At his age it would be impossible to give him any understanding of the situation. Molly would have some understanding and might start talking about the abuse in time, but Kit was unlikely to ever be able to verbalize what he’d seen and heard. Babies and toddlers intuit, feeling rather than reasoning – sensations, impressions and random images that might fade with time. Neither child spoke or made any noise as Molly dressed herself and I dressed Kit. I found their silence as upsetting as their crying.
Once they were ready, I took hold of their hands and we went carefully downstairs. Included in the equipment I’d brought down from the loft was a stair gate and I’d put it in place once Kit started exploring. There was no sign of him doing that yet. He was staying close and clinging to either Molly or me.
In the kitchen-diner I asked Molly what she and Kit usually had for breakfast and she said yoghurt.
‘What about some cereal and toast as well?’ I asked. I opened the cupboard door where the packets of cereals were kept to show her and she pointed to the hot oat cereal – a smooth porridge.
‘Good girl.’ I took it out. ‘Does Kit have this too?’ She nodded. ‘What about toast?’ She shook her head. ‘What would you like to drink?’
‘Juice,’ she replied. ‘Where’s my mummy?’
‘At home, love. I expect she’s having her breakfast too.’
Kit was standing where I’d put him by my leg and I now lifted him up and carried him to the table where I strapped him into the booster seat, then gave him his trainer cup. Molly slipped into the chair beside him. ‘Good girl. Can you watch your brother while I make your porridge?’ I said, although I could see them both from the kitchen.
I warmed the porridge in the microwave, took the yoghurt from the fridge and joined them at the table. I’d had my breakfast earlier. Molly fed herself and I fed Kit. He tried to pick up his spoon, but the plaster cast clunked heavily against the bowl, making it impossible to dip in the spoon. They ate most of the porridge and a little yoghurt, and drank their juice, so I was happy with that and praised them.
‘We’ve got a busy day,’ I said, lifting Kit out of the seat. ‘First, we’ll go into the living room where the toys are and you can play while I make a phone call.’ I needed to speak to Edith.
I took them by the hand and they came with me into the living room, silent and obedient, where I settled them with some toys on the floor. It was now just after 9 a.m. and I was hoping Edith would be at her desk. Taking the handset from the corner unit, I keyed in her number and she answered.
‘Hello. How are you?’ she asked.
