Cathy Glass - Innocent

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.

‘OK. Molly and Kit were placed yesterday late afternoon.’

‘Yes, Preeta left a message.’

‘I need some cover. Tess has arranged a meeting at one o’clock with the children’s parents, but I haven’t got anyone to look after the children.’

‘Who are your nominated support carers?’ she asked.

‘Lucy and Paula, but they are at work and college and it’s too short notice for them to take half a day off.’

‘Don’t the children go to nursery?’ she asked.

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘I don’t think we have anyone free. Can’t you take them with you?’

‘No.’ I kept my patience. ‘Can I suggest you try another foster carer – Maggie Taylor? We’ve helped each other out in the past.’

‘I can try, but if she can’t do it, can you change the day of the meeting?’

‘I doubt it. You’d have to ask Tess.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she said with a small sigh. She clearly didn’t need this first thing on a Friday morning and neither did I, but part of her role was to support foster carers.

I then had a nail-biting wait. Foster carers are expected to provide their own support, and usually I did, but sometimes we need help and we shouldn’t have to jump through hoops or be made to feel guilty for asking. I’d found before that Edith wasn’t the most proactive of supervising social workers compared to Jill, who’d been my supervising social worker at Homefinders, the independent agency I used to foster for. She was a gem, but when their local office had closed and Jill had left, I’d transferred to the local authority. It didn’t make any difference to the children I fostered, but it was at times like this I missed the high level of support and understanding the agency gave its carers twenty-four hours a day, every day of the year.

Thankfully when Edith returned my call an hour later she said Maggie could help and she’d phone me to arrange the details. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Chapter Four

Maggie telephoned ten minutes after Edith, bright and bubbly, and very willing to help. ‘I hear you’ve got two little ones. That’ll make a nice change,’ she said.

‘Yes, although they’re missing their parents dreadfully and we’ve been up all night.’

‘Join the club. Anyway, happy to help. As the children have only just been placed with you, I suggest I come to you to look after them, rather than you bringing them here, so they don’t have another change of house.’

‘Yes, please. That would be perfect.’ I had thought similar myself.

‘I’ll have to bring Keelie with me,’ Maggie said. ‘She’s been excluded from school again. But she’s good with kids and can help me. What time do you want us?’

‘The meeting is at one o’clock so twelve-thirty would be good.’

‘Fine. We’ll see you then.’

‘Thank you so much.’

‘You’re welcome.’

I knew Keelie. She was thirteen and Maggie and her husband had been fostering her for four years. She’d always shown some challenging behaviour, as it’s called, but since she’d hit puberty it had got a lot worse – staying out at night, drinking, smoking and generally getting into trouble at home, school and with the police. I guessed she was the reason Maggie had been up all night. Thankfully she and her husband were highly experienced foster carers and were taking it in their stride. Keelie was with them long term so was a permanent member of their family.

I explained to Molly and Kit what was going to happen – that my friend, Maggie, and a ‘big girl’ called Keelie were coming to look after them while I went to a meeting, and I would come back later. I didn’t tell them I was going to meet their parents, as it would have been confusing and upsetting for them. Both children just looked at me. I didn’t expect Kit to understand, but Molly should have some understanding of what I’d said.

The morning disappeared. I stayed in the living room for most of it, trying to engage the children in play. I had some success, although I wouldn’t call it playing. They looked at and held the toys, games and puzzles as I showed them, but didn’t actually play. Sammy came to investigate and to begin with was as nervous of them as they were of him. I showed them how to stroke his fur smoothly – running their hands down from his head to his tail. Neither of the children had shown any signs of a fur allergy, and coupled with their father telling Tess he didn’t think they had any allergies I was reasonably confident they weren’t allergic to cat fur at least.

At twelve noon I made us a sandwich lunch, followed by fruit, which they ate. Some children won’t eat fruit and vegetables when they first come into care, as these foods have never been part of their diet. But Molly and Kit ate the sliced banana, tangerine segments and halved grapes I arranged in little pots. Because the fruit could be eaten using fingers, Kit fed himself. They ate slowly and unenthusiastically, but at least they ate. I smiled and praised them. ‘Do you have food like this at home?’ I asked without thinking, and I could have kicked myself.

‘I want to go home,’ Molly said, rubbing her eyes as if about to cry at the reminder of home. ‘I want my mummy.’

‘Mummy, Mummy,’ Kit said, his bottom lip trembling.

‘It’s OK. You’ll see her soon.’ I gave them a hug and took out some more toys to distract them.

Maggie and Keelie arrived just before 12.30 and the children came with me to the front door.

‘Hello, baby!’ Keelie squealed excitedly as soon as she saw Kit. She rushed in and picked him up.

‘Steady,’ Maggie warned her. ‘He’s already got one broken arm, he doesn’t want another one.’

I smiled while Keelie scowled at her, and Kit just looked bemused.

‘How are you, Keelie?’ I asked her as we went through to the living room. I hadn’t seen her for a few months.