Cathy Glass - Another Forgotten Child

‘Not from you,’ she said defiantly. ‘You ain’t me mum.’

‘I understand. Let me know when you’d like a hug.’

‘Never!’ Aimee scowled.

Mindful that the evening was quickly passing and I would need to get Aimee up early for school the following morning, I continued with the bedtime routine. Now she was clean and in her pyjamas I gave her a new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste and told her to squeeze a little paste on to her brush and clean her teeth well. It soon became obvious that Aimee didn’t know how to take the top off the toothpaste, let alone squirt some paste on to the brush, so I did it, showing her what to do so that she’d know for next time. ‘Now give your teeth a very good clean,’ I said, handing her the toothbrush.

She put the toothbrush into her mouth, sucked off the paste and swallowed it. ‘Ahhh!’ she cried, spitting the rest into the bowl. ‘You’re trying to kill me!’

‘Aimee, love,’ I said stifling a smile, ‘you’re not supposed to eat it. Just brush it over your teeth and then spit it out. Didn’t you have toothpaste at home?’

Aimee shook her head.

‘Didn’t your mum and dad brush their teeth?’

‘Mum ain’t got many teeth,’ Aimee said. ‘And Dad takes his out and puts them in a jar.’ From which I gathered that both her parents had lost most of their teeth and her father had false teeth. Her parents were only in their mid-forties but one of the side effects of years of drug abuse is gum disease and tooth loss.

‘Do you know how to brush your teeth?’ I asked Aimee. ‘Did you brush them at home?’

Aimee shook her head.

Horrified that a child could reach the age of eight without regularly brushing their teeth, I took the toothbrush and said, ‘Open your mouth, good girl, and I’ll show you what to do.’

There was a moment’s hesitation when Aimee kept her mouth firmly and defiantly closed; then, thinking better of it – perhaps remembering her parents’ lack of teeth – she opened her mouth wide. ‘Good girl,’ I said, and I began gently brushing. Many of her back teeth were in advanced states of decay or missing. As I gently brushed Aimee’s remaining teeth, showing her how to brush, her gums bled – a sign of gum disease.

‘Did you ever see a dentist?’ I asked as I finished brushing and Aimee rinsed and then spat out.

‘Yeah. And I ain’t going back. He put a needle in me mouth so he could pull me teeth out. I’ll end up like me mum if he keeps that up.’ So that I thought at least some of Aimee’s missing teeth had been extracted by the dentist because of advanced tooth decay. The poor kid had really suffered and my anger flared at parents who could so badly neglect their daughter; but then drug-addicted parents would be more concerned with obtaining their next fix than making sure their daughter brushed her teeth.

Before we left the bathroom I told Aimee I wanted to fine-tooth comb her hair and I asked her to lean over the sink while I did it. She didn’t object and ten minutes later the white porcelain basin was covered with hundreds of dead head lice. The lotion would stay on overnight so that it could complete its job and I would wash it off in the morning. When we’d finished I praised Aimee for keeping still.

‘Will I have friends at school now?’ Aimee asked.

‘I’m sure you will. Why? Has there been a problem with your friends?’

‘I ain’t got none,’ Aimee said bluntly. ‘The other kids call me “nit head” and “smelly pants”. When I try and play with them they run away.’

‘Well, not any more,’ I said, my heart going out to her. ‘Now you’re in foster care you will always be clean and have lots of friends.’

‘Promise?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you never break a promise?’

‘Never.’

‘Cor, I’m looking forward to going to school.’

Chapter Six Chapter Six: ‘I’ll Tell Me Mum!’ Chapter Seven: Should Have Done More Chapter Eight: Meeting Susan Chapter Nine: ‘He’s Horrible’ Chapter Ten: Poor Role Models Chapter Eleven: The Phone Call Chapter Twelve: Craig Chapter Thirteen: More Trouble Chapter Fourteen: Keep Asking Chapter Fifteen: Quiet and Withdrawn Chapter Sixteen: Serious Allegation Chapter Seventeen: Problem Family Chapter Eighteen: Flashback Chapter Nineteen: Hatchet Chapter Twenty: ‘Father Christmas Didn’t Come to My House’ Chapter Twenty-One: Going for Gold Chapter Twenty-Two: Perfect Christmas Chapter Twenty-Three: A New Year Chapter Twenty-Four: Jason Chapter Twenty-Five: A Winner Now Chapter Twenty-Six: Progress Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Chance Meeting Chapter Twenty-Eight: Peter Rabbit Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Visit Chapter Thirty: An Incredible Family Epilogue Acknowledgements Exclusive sample chapter Cathy Glass About the Publisher

‘I’ll Tell Me Mum!’ Chapter Six: ‘I’ll Tell Me Mum!’ Chapter Seven: Should Have Done More Chapter Eight: Meeting Susan Chapter Nine: ‘He’s Horrible’ Chapter Ten: Poor Role Models Chapter Eleven: The Phone Call Chapter Twelve: Craig Chapter Thirteen: More Trouble Chapter Fourteen: Keep Asking Chapter Fifteen: Quiet and Withdrawn Chapter Sixteen: Serious Allegation Chapter Seventeen: Problem Family Chapter Eighteen: Flashback Chapter Nineteen: Hatchet Chapter Twenty: ‘Father Christmas Didn’t Come to My House’ Chapter Twenty-One: Going for Gold Chapter Twenty-Two: Perfect Christmas Chapter Twenty-Three: A New Year Chapter Twenty-Four: Jason Chapter Twenty-Five: A Winner Now Chapter Twenty-Six: Progress Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Chance Meeting Chapter Twenty-Eight: Peter Rabbit Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Visit Chapter Thirty: An Incredible Family Epilogue Acknowledgements Exclusive sample chapter Cathy Glass About the Publisher

Aimee settled easily that first night. She was so pleased to be sleeping in a bed and in a room of her own that she forgot her anger at being in care. She sighed as she snuggled beneath the duvet and felt the caress of the soft clean pillow against her head.

‘This is nice,’ she said. ‘I like me bed.’

‘Good. I’m pleased. You’ll be fine in care, here with me until everything is sorted out,’ I said, and she didn’t disagree.

I had read her a bedtime story downstairs and I now tucked her into bed and reminded her I would need to wake her early in the morning so that I could wash her hair before school. I asked her if she’d like a goodnight kiss but she said she wouldn’t, so I told her to call me if she woke in the night and needed anything. Then I said goodnight and came out, closing her bedroom door as she’d asked.

When I checked on her ten minutes later she was sound asleep, lying flat on her back with her mouth slightly open and holding her teddy bear close to her chest. With her features relaxed in sleep and her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow she looked angelic, and I dearly wished I could have waved a magic wand and taken away all the bad that had happened to her and make everything all right. But realistically I knew, from what I’d seen of Aimee so far and from the referral, that it was going to be a long uphill climb to undo the harm that had been done to her before she could come close to leading a happy and fulfilling life.

Once Aimee was asleep I went downstairs, tidied the kitchen, wrote up my log notes and then watched a bit of television with Paula, while Lucy was on the computer MSNing her friends. When I asked the girls how they felt the evening had gone they agreed with me that Aimee’s behaviour hadn’t been as bad as we’d anticipated, although of course it was only the first night. Paula and I were in bed at ten o’clock and Lucy followed a little while afterwards.

I was expecting Aimee to wake in the night – her first night in a strange room – but she slept soundly and was still asleep when I went into her room to wake her for school the following morning. I’d also been expecting her to wet the bed, as the referral had stated and the social worker had confirmed she did, but she was dry.