Cathy Glass - Innocent - Part 3 of 3 - The True Story of Siblings Struggling to Survive

‘Tess confirmed that the allegations against you were unfounded,’ Edith said. ‘I don’t think I need to take a statement from you, but I’ll check with my manager when I get back to the office.’

I nodded. Whether Edith had to take a statement or not was the last thing on my mind. ‘Have you ever come across FDIA before?’ I asked, still reeling from the shock of it.

‘Yes. When I worked in child protection – before I became a supervising social worker – we had something similar. A mother made her child ill by crushing up her antidepressant tablets and putting them into the child’s food. The child nearly died.’

‘That’s awful,’ I said, horrified.

‘I believe there are about two hundred cases of FDIA or Munchausen syndrome by proxy a year in this country alone, as well as more cases of just Munchausen’s syndrome, when the person pretends they are ill or makes themselves ill. And that’s only the ones that are detected. You remember the case of Nurse Beverley Allitt? She was convicted of murdering infants in the hospital where she worked as a trainee nurse.’

‘Yes, it was horrendous,’ I said. Most people would remember the case. It had been widely reported in the news and had shocked the whole country.

‘She was diagnosed with suffering from Munchausen syndrome by proxy – or FDIA as it’s now called,’ Edith said.

I shuddered. Dear little Molly and Kit could have easily died.

‘Tess has suspended contact,’ I said. ‘She’s asked me to tell the children, but not the reason. She is going to see them next week. It’s difficult to know what to say to them, they’re so young.’

‘Do you want to do it while I’m here?’

‘Yes, we may as well.’

We returned to the kitchen-diner where Molly and Kit were finishing their snacks and drinks. ‘You are doing well,’ I said, sitting at the table and setting down my mug of coffee. Edith sat next to me, opposite the children. There was no easy way to tell them that they wouldn’t be seeing their parents. ‘Your social worker, Tess, telephoned,’ I began. ‘She’s decided it is best for now if we don’t go to the Family Centre.’

‘Why?’ Molly asked.

‘Because Tess needs to sort out some things to make sure you are safe. She has told your mummy and daddy, so they won’t be going to the Family Centre either.’ I didn’t expect Kit to understand, but clearly Molly would.

‘What things?’ she said.

Edith replied. ‘Sometimes social workers have to make difficult decisions. Your social worker has decided that it’s better for you and Kit if you don’t go to the Family Centre to see your parents for a while.’

‘When do we see them?’ Molly asked.

‘We’re not sure yet,’ Edith said.

‘Tess will tell us more next week,’ I added.

Molly seemed to accept this, although I knew she was bound to return to the matter later with more questions. I would answer them as best I could without telling her the real reason contact had been suspended. Having finished eating, Kit began agitating to be out of his chair so I undid his harness and helped him down. We all went into the living room where the children played, while Edith continued with the standard part of her supervisory visit, much as she usually did. She asked how the children were generally, if there’d been any changes in my household – a standard question at each visit – and made some notes. She advised me on further training, checked my log notes and then looked around the house. Before leaving, she set the date for her next supervisory visit but said she would be in touch after she’d spoken to her manager.

Once she’d gone, I felt in dire need of a change of scenery and told the children that as there was no contact we would go out. It was raining, so the park wasn’t an option.

‘Can we go to the ball pond?’ Molly asked.

‘Where we went yesterday?’ I said.

‘Yes.’

‘OK.’

She was delighted and went to find her shoes. Kit followed her. Going to the soft-play centre would help take their minds off not seeing their parents and we could have some lunch there too. While the children tried to put on their shoes, I sent a WhatsApp message to the Glass group: Molly and Kit staying for the foreseeable future. Will explain when I see you. Love Mum xxx.

Chapter Twenty-One

‘So the witch tried to poison me!’ Lucy exclaimed, shocked.

‘It wasn’t intended for you,’ I said. ‘But yes, I’m certain drinking Molly and Kit’s juice is what made you sick.’

I was telling my family about Aneta making the children ill and FDIA as they came home, always making sure that Molly and Kit couldn’t hear. Paula had visibly paled when I’d told her. Now Lucy was upset and angry.

‘Evil or what! I might have died!’ Lucy cried dramatically.

‘I doubt it from one dose, but lots of the poison in small children could have killed them.’

‘It’s shocking. We covered Munchausen syndrome briefly in my nursery training, but I don’t think there’s ever been a case at the nursery, certainly not while I’ve been there.’

‘Lucy, did you notice if the juice tasted odd when you drank it?’ I asked.

‘Now you come to mention it, yes. I thought at the time it tasted a bit different – sharper – than the one you usually bought, but I put it down to it being a different brand. I still can’t believe what she’s been doing. We could have all been poisoned!’

‘Although in a way it’s probably just as well you did have some of that juice, as it helped me to make the connection.’

‘Glad I was of use,’ Lucy said tartly. ‘Well, at least Molly and Kit are safe and can stay with us.’

‘Yes, absolutely, for now at least.’

Lucy went off to play with them and I continued to make dinner. When Adrian came home – just before dinner – I quietly told him too, and of course he was as shaken as the rest of us.

‘All those times the little ones were ill and they needn’t have been,’ he said, greatly saddened. ‘Those poor children, and the worry it caused you.’

‘Caused all of us,’ I said. For to be honest, since Molly and Kit had arrived and been constantly sick, it had been one long worry for us all. Only once they’d stopped being ill had it become easier and we could enjoy looking after them, and then we’d had the worry of them being moved.

We ate together and then Adrian went to see Kirsty, saying he’d be back late as he didn’t have to be up for work in the morning and I shouldn’t wait up for him. Once Molly and Kit were in bed, I telephoned my mother. I told her that Molly and Kit were no longer being sick, as the cause had been identified.

‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I thought the doctors would eventually find out what they were allergic to.’

I left it like that and didn’t explain further. Mum didn’t need to know about FDIA and the horror of a mother intentionally making her children ill – not at her age. It would upset her and play on her mind. Bad enough to know that a parent had repeatedly lashed out and hit a child in anger, or neglected them through drug or alcohol abuse, as had happened to many of the children I’d fostered. But how much worse to learn that a mother had systematically made her children ill over months, if not years? I had to remind myself that it was a mental illness and I shouldn’t judge Aneta.

I was still puzzled by the linctus Tess had referred to, which Aneta had bought online to induce vomiting. I’d never heard of such a thing, and with Molly and Kit asleep, Adrian out, Lucy getting ready to go out with her friends and Paula relaxing in her bedroom, I went into the front room and sat at my computer. I typed how to induce vomiting into a search engine and a list of websites appeared. I found what I was looking for very quickly. It wasn’t called linctus but syrup, and yes, it could be bought easily online. Its original purpose, I read, was for the emergency treatment of certain kinds of poisoning by making the patient vomit. It came with the warning that it should not be used to cause weight loss, and if used regularly it could lead to serious health problems, including rashes, breathing difficulties, seizures and even death. I failed to understand why such an item would be available for the public to buy at all, but then of course you can buy virtually anything on the Internet now. There was a picture of a bottle of the syrup, just like the one Aneta would have bought to make her children sick. I reminded myself again that FDIA was a mental illness and I shouldn’t demonize Aneta.