Cathy Glass - I Miss Mummy - The true story of a frightened young girl who is desperate to go home

‘You can’t,’ he snapped. ‘It needs an SW’ – social worker – ‘to place a child who’s on an Interim Care Order.’ It was a technicality, but I realized he was probably right. As a foster carer I couldn’t simply go to the police station and collect Alice; procedure dictated a social worker or police officer should bring her to me.

‘Is Alice all right?’ I asked anxiously. ‘Where’s she been?’

‘No idea. Mum snatched her, and then disappeared, that’s all I know. I’ll get to you as soon as I can, but I’m the only one on duty.’

‘How long do you think you’ll be?’ I asked, mindful that little Alice, after three days missing and goodness knows what else, was now waiting at the police station instead of snuggled in her bed upstairs and being comforted by me.

‘As soon as I can,’ he snapped. ‘Why? You’re not going out again, are you?’

That was the final straw. I’d had enough of his rudeness and intimidating manner. ‘No, of course I’m not going out,’ I snapped back. ‘It’s nearly ten o’clock. But I’d have thought, given Alice’s age and what has happened to her, it should be a priority for you to get her to me.’

It went quiet for a moment, then he said stiffly: ‘I’ll be with you as soon as I can, Mrs Glass. You do your job and I’ll do mine.’ And he hung up.

I remained where I was by the phone for a second and then replaced the receiver with more force than was necessary. ‘Ignorant pig,’ I muttered. Overworked he might be, but that was no reason to be rude. I glanced up the stairs and saw Lucy and Paula watching me from the landing, looking very worried.

‘It’s all right,’ I reassured them. ‘That was the duty social worker. He’s bringing Alice to us as soon as he can.’

‘Terrific. Is she OK?’ Paula said.

‘I think so, although the social worker didn’t know much.’

‘Do they ever?’ Lucy said disparagingly.

‘Now, now,’ I cautioned lightly. ‘They’re understaffed.’ Lucy took every opportunity to criticize social workers and I knew she had to start letting go of the anger from her past and look to the future. ‘Alice is safe at the police station,’ I said, ‘but I don’t know what time she will be here. I want the two of you to get ready for bed, and if you’re still awake when Alice arrives you can see her. Otherwise you’ll see her in the morning.’

Lucy and Paula disappeared into their bedrooms to get changed, ready for bed, and I went upstairs to draw the curtains in what would soon be Alice’s room. The room was ready, as it had been since I was first told to expect Alice. There was a brightly coloured Cinderella duvet cover on the bed with a matching pillowcase, cuddly toys propped on the chair and posters of rabbits and kittens on the walls. I knew virtually nothing about Alice – only that she was small for her age and of average intelligence. More details would follow in the essential information forms, which Martha should bring when she visited Alice – presumably on Monday. What trauma Alice had suffered since going missing I couldn’t begin to guess, but clearly she was going to be very distressed, and I anticipated being up most of the night comforting her. For when all was said and done Alice was being brought to the house of a stranger (albeit a well-meaning one), in the middle of the night, by a man she didn’t know, having somehow got to the police station after going missing for three days. I thought she had a right to be upset.

Perhaps the duty social worker had heeded my comment about prioritizing his workload, for he must have left his office straight after we’d spoken. Thirty minutes later the doorbell rang and, with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation, I ran to answer it.

Standing in the porch was a very tall man, over six feet, cradling a small bundle in a pink blanket.

‘Oh my,’ I said, peering into the bundle, and holding the door wider so that he could come in. ‘Oh, bless her, poor little mite.’

I looked closer at the child the duty social worker held as he stepped into the hall. With only her little face showing, Alice looked just like a sleeping doll. A few strands of light brown hair wisped around her delicate features, and one little hand lay pressed against her chin.

‘She fell asleep in the car,’ he said amicably.

For a moment I couldn’t say anything; I just gazed at Alice, nestled deep in the blanket, so peaceful and vulnerable in sleep, and so, so beautiful – she looked just like an angel. My heart went out to her in a rush of love and pity.

‘We’ll put her straight to bed,’ I said, coming to my senses. I closed the front door and led the way upstairs and into what was now Alice’s room. The duty social worker’s previous animosity towards me appeared to have gone now and he carried Alice into her room, where I helped ease her from his arms and on to the bed. She didn’t wake. ‘I’ll just remove her coat for tonight,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll leave her to sleep in her clothes – save disturbing her.’

‘She hasn’t come with a change of clothes,’ he said quietly.

‘It’s all right. I have spares.’

While the duty social worker supported Alice’s back, floppy in sleep, I carefully slipped her arms out of her coat. I noticed that although her coat had dried mud on it, it was of very good quality and also new, as was her little dress and cardigan. My first impression was that Alice wasn’t undernourished, and her face and hands were clean; her chin-length hair looked well groomed. In fact, apart from the mud on her coat, she appeared clean and well cared for.

Having taken off Alice’s coat, I gently eased her head on to the pillow. As I did, her long black eyelashes fluttered and her eyes opened. Huge brown eyes looked at me in surprise and fear. ‘It’s all right, love,’ I soothed, stroking her little forehead. ‘My name is Cathy. I’m going to look after you for a while. You are in bed in my house and you are safe. There is nothing to worry about.’ Her eyes remained wide, staring at me: she was so innocent, so overwhelmed and so worried, I could have wept. ‘It’s all right,’ I soothed again.

‘I’ll get the paperwork from my briefcase in the car,’ the duty social worker said, clearly pressed for time.

I nodded. ‘I’ll ask one of my children so stay with Alice and I’ll come down.’

He left the room and I sat on the edge of the bed, stroking Alice’s forehead. She looked at me with big wondering eyes. ‘It’s OK,’ I continued to reassure her. ‘My name is Cathy, I am a foster carer and I look after children. You are safe now.’

I half expected her to burst into tears and sob hysterically, but I think she was so tired and traumatized she didn’t have the energy. She lay on her back under the duvet with her pink blanket loosely draped on top, her huge eyes still staring at me. Then she licked her lips. ‘Do you want a drink?’ I asked softly, but she didn’t answer, her eyes not daring to move from my face. ‘Oh pet,’ I said. ‘Please don’t worry. Everything will be all right now.’

Lucy and Paula, in their pyjamas, appeared at the bedroom door and hesitated, uncertain if they should disturb us.

‘Come in and say hello to Alice,’ I said quietly.

They crept in, to the side of the bed, and gazed down at her. Their gasps said it all. ‘Oh! Oh, look at her. She’s so sweet.’

Alice’s big eyes moved from my face to theirs.

‘This is Lucy and Paula,’ I said. ‘They live here too.’

‘Hi, Alice,’ the girls whispered. They knelt beside her bed.

I heard the front door close as the duty social worker returned from his car. ‘Could you stay with Alice for a moment while I speak to the social worker?’ I asked the girls. ‘I shouldn’t be too long.’