Casey Watson - A Last Kiss for Mummy - A teenage mum, a tiny infant, a desperate decision

The atmosphere in the room changed. That was all part of the process; going from asking all about a new child who needed us, to the sober contemplation of just how that state of affairs had come about. The baby, for the moment, was forgotten, as my heart went out to his mother – this poor fourteen-year-old girl who I didn’t yet know. I took a moment, even though I knew we would have to take her in. I mustn’t let Mike and John think I was jumping in too quickly and not taking time to assess the situation properly. I tried to hide my growing excitement (and it was excitement, no question) as I turned and spoke to John.

‘So what’s the situation?’ I asked. ‘Any boy in the background who is willing to take responsibility?’

John reached into his briefcase and took out a by now familiar buff-coloured file. Popping on his reading glasses he then flicked through some pages. ‘Yes and no,’ he said. ‘It’s complicated. What happened,’ he glanced up, ‘well, according to the mother, anyway, is that Emma had started running a bit wild and next thing was that she found herself pregnant. She’d been back living at home again for almost a year by this time – a pretty longish stretch, given the history. Anyway, when the mother found out about the pregnancy she insisted Emma have an abortion, but Emma apparently refused. At that point the mother washed her hands of her completely, and threw her out, apparently thinking that in doing so she might make Emma come to her senses.’

Mike frowned. ‘So not out of character at all, then,’ he muttered drily. And I tended to agree with him. Could I ever imagine throwing my teenage pregnant daughter out on the street just to make her ‘come to her senses’? Not in a million years. I couldn’t think of a more perfectly designed recipe for disaster. But then, I wasn’t her, was I? And drink, drugs and depression affected a person in all sorts of dangerous ways.

‘Well, exactly,’ John agreed. ‘And of course, the abortion didn’t happen, and since that time Emma’s been staying with various friends, mostly with another girl – a friend who lives on the same estate, with her single mum. That’s where she is now. But since the baby was born just over three weeks ago, the girl’s mum’s apparently said she can’t afford to keep both Emma and Roman, and that’s the point when Emma’s mum finally got in touch with social services.’

‘To put her straight back into care again,’ I said. It wasn’t a question. Just a sad, all too familiar statement of fact: she obviously didn’t want either daughter or grandchild back at home with her, presumably as the lesson hadn’t been learned. ‘What about the boyfriend, then?’ I went on, thinking what a desperate situation it was for a baby to be born into. ‘There’d be some police involvement, wouldn’t there, given that she’s under age?’

John paused to sip some coffee. ‘As I say, it’s complicated. And here’s the stinger; we and just about everyone else, apparently, believe the father is a nineteen-year-old drug dealer, name of Tarim. Emma had been seeing him for some time, it seems, though she has always denied that he’s the father.’

‘As I suppose she would,’ Mike said, ‘if she didn’t want to get him into trouble.’

John smiled wryly. ‘Which he already is. He’s in prison right now, doing time for dealing. Went down while she was still pregnant. He has previous form, apparently – so has not been on the scene at all. And though Emma’s adamant he’s not the father, the woman she’s been staying with is absolutely convinced he is. The baby is the spit of him, apparently. Though of course they want the relationship discouraged, just as much as Emma’s mother does, saying he’s no good for her –’

I shook my head. ‘Really?’ I said wryly. ‘Whatever makes her think that?’

John nodded and closed the file. ‘Quite, Casey. So that’s where we’re at. And it’s a lot to think about so I do want you both to have a think.’

So no plunging in feet first, as I usually liked to do, then. And John was right to tell us to think because it was a great deal to take on. A newborn baby on its own would be a big physical challenge – babies were exhausting, full stop, for anyone. But to take on a newborn and a teen mum – one barely even into her teens in this case – would add a whole other layer of complication. She’d have her issues – how could she not, given her upbringing and current circumstances? – not to mention the ever-present spectre of having her baby taken away from her if she couldn’t prove she was able to look after it. And what about this mum of hers? What might happen there? Much as I couldn’t personally get my head round the idea of throwing out my own daughter and grandson, I wasn’t naïve either. This was a woman with a long history of substance abuse and mental illness, which meant all bets were off as far as good parenting manuals were concerned. The poor girl. What a mess to bring a new life into. She must be reeling and terrified, the little mite.

I glanced at Mike, who was deep in thought as well. I could tell. I met his eye, wondering if he was thinking what I was – that we had to find a way to make this work.

‘Look,’ said John, ‘don’t rush into this. It’s a huge undertaking and I would absolutely understand if you didn’t feel it was for you. After all, most mother and baby carers go through a specific course of training …’

‘I’ve had two children,’ I chipped in, ‘both fully grown now, not to mention two grandchildren, not to mention eight foster kids and counting … it is eight, isn’t it, Mike?’ I started pretending to count on my fingers.

John smiled at me. ‘I’m serious , Casey. This is a complicated placement. With a great deal of potential for getting even more complicated, as I’m sure you realise all too well. Look, you know why I’m putting this to you. It’s because I think the two of you could handle it. Of course I do. But I still have to talk it through with Emma’s social worker anyway. Plus the baby’s – he’ll obviously be allocated his own social worker, if he hasn’t been already. Which’ll give you two time to discuss it –’ he pushed the buff folder across the table to us. ‘To read up properly, to consider the implications and think it through before committing. A new baby affects everything, as you both know all too well. Means changing plans, not booking holidays, having your whole routine thrown into disarray …’

‘Well,’ said Mike, his positive tone of voice making my heart leap. ‘It certainly does sound like something we should consider. But as you say,’ he said, looking pointedly at me, ‘we do need to weigh it up properly. Can you give us a day or so?’

John nodded as he rose from the table. ‘Absolutely. As I say, I have to talk things through with the social workers anyway. And no doubt you’ll want to have a chat with the rest of the clan, too.’

Which we would. The clan in question mainly being our daughter Riley and her partner David. If we were talking baby stuff, I doubted we’d be able to keep Riley away. She loved babies as much as I did, loved to immerse herself in children generally, and was also keen to help out whenever she could when we were fostering, because she and David had just finished the training to become foster carers themselves. We’d obviously also need to speak to our son Kieron. Though he no longer lived at home – he shared a flat with his long-term girlfriend Lauren – we never did anything that would impact on any member of the family without consulting them first. It wouldn’t have been fair. Because John was right, having a new baby in the mix would change everything. Which would obviously affect everyone else.

But I was champing at the bit. And it must have been obvious because as soon as we’d waved John off Mike held his hand out. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘hand it over.’