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

‘Wow,’ I said quietly, as it sank in how much this period mattered. How much my input or otherwise might affect things. ‘Does this happen with all underage mums or just those in care?’

‘In theory, all of them,’ Maggie explained. ‘When a young girl like Emma becomes pregnant, it doesn’t matter what her background is. The midwives are obliged to inform social services. They also have to record how responsible the teen is; whether she attends appointments, takes advice, eats healthily, plans properly for when the child is born … And, because of this, social services are alerted where it appears help may be required – and that’s whether the child’s in care or otherwise.’

I nodded my understanding. ‘So,’ John said, picking up his pen, ‘do we know who the baby’s social worker is?’

Maggie rustled through her paperwork. ‘Hannah Greenwood. She’s visiting three times a week at present, but if Casey and Mike take Emma on we’d probably cut that down to two, then after a while, if things are going okay, one.’

‘And how long is all this for?’ Mike asked.

Maggie shrugged. ‘How long is a piece of string?’ Then she grimaced. ‘Sorry – that’s not very helpful of me, is it? But, in truth, it’s impossible to say. In some cases it’s evident in a matter of a few weeks that the mother’s capable and has a strong attachment to her baby, whereas in others – well, sometimes, it takes longer to tell.’

I looked at Mike. It was really sinking in now that this was a lot to take on. We weren’t just providing a place of safety, a warm and loving home. We would be part of the process. There was also the small matter – no, the huge matter – of our own attachments. It wouldn’t just be Emma who’d be forming a bond with her baby. We would be too. We’d be fools to think otherwise.

And I knew how I was around babies. It would be impossible for me to see this as just a job, and Mike knew that. But at the same time I knew that I wanted to accept this placement, even knowing that the end of it would probably break my heart. ‘What happens at the end?’ I asked Maggie.

She glanced at John before answering. ‘It depends on the outcome, Casey. If all goes well, Emma and Roman will move on to a sort of halfway house; in a unit with maybe one or two other young mums and their babies until she’s legally old enough to live on her own. We’d assist her then, obviously, with getting a place to live. But if things don’t go to plan, then we’ll have to think again, obviously. But let’s not dwell on the bleak side just yet, eh? Hopefully we’ll get a happy ending out of this.’

Happy endings. You didn’t hear of them so often in this game. Sometimes, yes, and we’d had our share of them, even if ‘happy’ was always qualified – those damaged pasts couldn’t just be spirited away that easily. But if we could have a happy ending for this child-mum and her baby, that would be fantastic.

I was still musing on just how fantastic it would be when Mike did something entirely out of character. Coughing slightly, to get my attention, he looked pointedly at me. ‘I think we’re of a mind about this,’ he said. ‘Aren’t we, Casey?’ He then looked at John and Maggie. ‘We’d like to give it a shot,’ he said, before I’d even opened my mouth to answer. ‘That is, if you two think we’re up for it.’

Well, I thought, having to haul my jaw back into position. Now, that was a turn-up for the books.

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