Cathy Glass - Another Forgotten Child

‘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 to have Jodie’s problems, which had resulted from horrendous sexual abuse. Yet while I now thought Aimee had little in common with Jodie, beyond hair and eye colouring, I still felt there was something that reminded me of Jodie, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. That was until I stopped outside my bedroom and pushed open the door, so Aimee could see where I slept if she needed me in the night.

‘Do you have a man?’ she asked, peering in.

‘No, I’m divorced,’ I said.

‘So who gives you one?’ she asked with a knowing grin. It was then I knew that Aimee, like Jodie, had a sexual awareness well beyond her years: a knowledge she should not have had, and which could only have come from watching adult films or sexual abuse.

Chapter Four Chapter Four: ‘I Want Biscuits’ Chapter Five: Severe Neglect 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 Want Biscuits’ Chapter Four: ‘I Want Biscuits’ Chapter Five: Severe Neglect 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 ignored Aimee’s remark, as did Kristen and Laura, and we made our way downstairs, but Aimee’s words worried me deeply, as I knew they would the social workers. Kristen and Laura returned briefly to the sitting room for their bags, and then unhooked their coats from the hall stand and slipped on their shoes. Aimee was by my side, watching them. I knew it would be difficult for her as the social workers said goodbye and left. Then reality would hit her: that she was now in foster care and living with me, not with her mother or father. For no matter how bad things are at home children usually do not want to be parted from their parents, whom they have known all their lives and love despite everything that has happened.

‘Well, goodbye then,’ Kristen said to us both.

‘Goodbye,’ Laura said, then added ‘Thank you’ to me.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ Kristen said.

‘Where you going?’ Aimee asked.

‘To our office,’ Kristen said. ‘Then home.’

‘Am I seeing me mum tonight?’

‘No, you saw her after school,’ Kristen said. ‘It’s evening now. You’ll see your mum again tomorrow after school.’

‘What’s tomorrow?’ Aimee asked, confused.

‘After one sleep,’ Laura said, using an explanation one would normally use with a much younger child.

Aimee looked blank.

‘You’ll sleep here for one night,’ Laura explained. ‘That is tonight. Then in the morning you’ll go to school and after school you will see your mum.’

Aimee nodded, although I wasn’t sure she understood. I’d explain again later. Clearly she had a poor grasp of time, well behind the understanding an average eight-year-old should have.

As the social workers left I reached for Aimee’s hand to offer comfort but she snatched it away. I noticed the social workers hadn’t tried to hug her as they’d said goodbye, as social workers often did, and I could understand why. Aimee wasn’t a child who seemed to want to be hugged, held or even touched. There was a sense of ‘keep away’ in her body language, as though an imaginary line had been drawn around her, over which you wouldn’t dare step.

As the social workers left, Lucy appeared.

‘Hi,’ I called as she came down the front garden path. ‘This is Aimee.’ Then to Aimee: ‘This is my eldest daughter, Lucy.’

‘Hello, how are you?’ Lucy asked Aimee as she came in and kissed my cheek.

Aimee shrugged. ‘Dunno.’

‘Welcome to the world of foster care,’ Lucy said brightly. ‘Your life just got so much better.’

I smiled, grateful for Lucy’s positive approach. Having come to me as a foster child herself, she knew what it felt like to be in care. But Lucy’s welcome didn’t touch Aimee and she just stared blankly at Lucy.

‘We’ll be eating a bit later tonight,’ I said to Lucy. ‘I need to get the lotion on Aimee’s hair first.’

Lucy knew what I was referring to, as she too had been plagued by head lice before coming into care, as had many of the children we’d fostered. There seems to be an ongoing epidemic of head lice in England, with many school-age children affected. And while not life-threatening they’re very unpleasant.