Another Forgotten Child (27 page)

As soon as I pulled into our road I saw Adrian’s car (financed by his student work), parked on the driveway. Pleased he’d made good time and hadn’t been stuck in traffic, I let myself in the front door and found him in the hall, surrounded by his bags and admiring the Christmas decorations, having only just arrived.

‘Hi, Mum!’ he said with a huge grin. He immediately came over and hugged me, slightly lifting me off the floor as he did.

‘I’m sure you’ve grown again!’ I said.

‘No, Mum, you’re shrinking,’ he joked, and set me down.

‘Great to see you,’ I said, giving him another hug. ‘Come into the kitchen and tell me all your news while I make us some lunch.’

‘Yes, I’ll leave the unpacking. I’m starving.’

So while Adrian filled the kettle and made us coffee and I made us some lunch we talked, catching up on all the news. He was in his last year at university and was thinking that when his course ended he would take a year out to go travelling before applying for a permanent job, which I thought was a good idea. He hadn’t taken a gap year before going to university, so once he’d finished his degree seemed a good time. We took our lunch to the table and continued chatting there. Adrian mentioned he’d spoken to his father on the phone earlier in the week and would arrange to see him, with Paula, over the Christmas holiday, which was what had happened in the past.

Once we’d finished catching up on our news and had finished eating I decided I couldn’t put off any longer what I needed to say about Aimee. I didn’t want to upset Adrian but I knew I had to make him aware of Susan’s allegations; for while I’d been told the matter wouldn’t be taken any further, I wanted to make sure there was no chance of similar allegations being made over Christmas, when we would all be together for two weeks. Adrian always played with the children we fostered, treating them like younger siblings, but sadly that wouldn’t be possible with Aimee.

‘Adrian, you’re going to have to be very careful when you are around Aimee,’ I began, going straight to the point. ‘Her mother has made a number of allegations by twisting things Aimee told her and it’s caused quite a lot of trouble.’

‘Like what?’ Adrian said, immediately concerned.

‘All sorts of things. Some are really silly, like I’m making her have a bath and eat vegetables, and I limit her sweets and television, but others are more serious. You remember when you and your friends stopped by on the way back from the Lakes?’

‘Yes,’ he said, frowning.

‘Aimee told her mother that I’d let “big boys” kiss her here. Not a kiss on the cheek but a full opened-mouth kiss on the lips.’

‘You’re joking!’ Adrian exclaimed, looking horrified, as I knew he would.

‘Don’t worry. It’s been dealt with, but I want you to be careful when you are around Aimee, for your own protection. You know the sort of thing: keep some distance between you; don’t be left alone in a room with her; and don’t go into her bedroom even to reach something down for her – call me.’

Adrian nodded. We’d had to take similar precautions with some of the other children we’d fostered. ‘But she’s only eight,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Why’s she been saying things like that?’

‘She’s been sexually abused,’ I said. There was no point in avoiding the subject; Adrian needed to be aware. ‘We don’t know the full extent of the abuse, and Aimee’s not saying much at present. But what she has said is bad enough. She has a sexual awareness well beyond her years.’

‘Like Jodie?’ he said.

‘I don’t think she’s been as badly abused as Jodie,’ I said. ‘And she doesn’t have the same psychological problems Jodie had, but there are similarities.’

Adrian gave a heartfelt sigh and pushed his chair slightly away from the table. ‘I wish you’d tell me when there’s a problem, Mum,’ he said. ‘You insist on dealing with all these things alone. When I’m away I worry about what’s going on here.’

‘Don’t!’ I said forcefully. ‘I’ve told you before we’re fine. I’d phone you if I needed help.’

‘I’d like to think you would,’ Adrian said pointedly. ‘But I’m not convinced.’

I met his gaze. It was true I still tried to protect my children, even though they were grown up. Since their father had left us many years before I’d purposely been careful not to heap too much responsibility on to Adrian, as the eldest child and only male. Now as I looked at him across the table, my heart swelled with pride as I recognized, not for the first time, what a fine young man he’d grown into – responsible, kind, caring and wanting to help me.

‘All right,’ I said, with a smile. ‘I’ll try to confide in you more. Now let’s forget all about that. Christmas is coming and we’re going to have a great time.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ he said.

* * *

Our Christmas was just as Lucy had promised Aimee it would be. We all went to church on Christmas Eve for a lovely candlelit carol service, where we saw many of our old and dear friends. We returned home and with mounting excitement Paula helped Aimee arrange a mince pie and carrot on a plate, which they left in the porch for Father Christmas and his reindeer. Then the ‘children’ hung pillowcases on the front door, ready for Father Christmas’s visit that night. Aimee was hugely overexcited, which was how it should be for a child of eight: not a care in the world and just looking forward to Christmas. She took a long while to go to sleep and of course was awake early on Christmas morning.

‘Cathy! Come quick! Father Christmas has been!’ she called out at 6.00 a.m.

Grabbing my camera from where I’d left it ready on top of the chest of drawers, I went round to her bedroom. She was sitting in bed and staring in amazement at the pillowcase by her bed, now overflowing with presents.

‘Come on, start unwrapping them,’ I encouraged, for it seemed Aimee was so overawed she might simply look at them.

Gradually, one at a time, she carefully took the presents from the pillowcase and unwrapped them as I took photographs. ‘How did Father Christmas know I wanted that?’ she exclaimed time and time again.

‘It’s all part of the magic of Christmas,’ I said. And the look on Aimee’s face made all the hard work and planning that goes into Christmas completely worthwhile.

Adrian, Paula and Lucy woke later and unwrapped their Father Christmas presents, and then we all had breakfast together. My parents and my brother and his family arrived mid-morning to join us for Christmas Day, and we settled with drinks and mince pies in the sitting room, where we exchanged more presents. Aimee was a bit hyperactive but it didn’t matter, for so too were my niece and nephew, Fiona and Ewan, and the adults were pretty loud too! I saw that Adrian, in line with our discussion, was keeping some distance between him and Aimee, so that if, for example, she sat on the same sofa as him he made sure someone else was sitting between them. It was a pity that this and similar measures were necessary, but given what Aimee had previously told her mother, any physical contact could be turned into an allegation: ‘I sat on the sofa next to Adrian.’ Accompanied by one of Aimee’s giggles and a flutter of her eyelashes, such an accusation could easily lead to more troublemaking from Susan. I also had to keep an eye on Aimee when she was around my brother and my father to make sure they weren’t compromised either.

The dining table looked lovely with its festive tablecloth, matching napkins and holly centrepiece. I set out the food and we helped ourselves: a choice of soup or prawn cocktail for starters, and then turkey with all the trimmings for the main course. We decided to have a break from eating after the main course and before the Christmas pudding, as we were all full, added to which Aimee, Ewan and Fiona had grown restless sitting at the table. We all trooped into the sitting room, where Paula and Lucy organized some games to win prizes from the tree. Aimee behaved well and joined in all the games nicely.

Shortly after six o’clock I quietly told Aimee that we needed to leave the room to phone her mother. She pulled a face but came with me down the hall, where I used the phone on the hall table to make the call, but Susan didn’t answer. I tried three times, as I’d been told to do, but each time an automated message said
It has not been possible to connect the call
. Aimee wasn’t worried; indeed she was more interested in returning to the sitting room to play more games.

It was nearly midnight when my parents and my brother and his family began to leave, thanking us for the lovely time they’d had. We always have a nice Christmas, and each Christmas seems even better than the last. I was especially pleased that we’d been able to give Aimee a really good Christmas – one that she’d remember. That night as her head lay on the pillow and I kissed her goodnight she said: ‘I’m so happy. Our Christmas was just like the ones you see on television. Perfect.’

Chapter Twenty-Three

A New Year

Aimee had seen her mother on the Friday before Christmas, when they’d exchanged gifts, and they’d spoken to each other on the phone on Saturday (Christmas Eve); then we’d tried to phone on Sunday (Christmas Day), but Susan hadn’t answered. Monday, Boxing Day, was a bank holiday and there’d been no contact, as the family centre had been closed. It was now Tuesday and Aimee and I were sitting on the sofa with the phone between us, ready to make the scheduled call to her mother. Aimee would see her mother again as usual on Wednesday. I pressed ‘hands-free’ to put the phone on speaker and keyed in the numbers, wondering what sort of Christmas Susan had had, and if she would complain we hadn’t phoned on Sunday, although we’d tried.

Her mobile was answered almost immediately, but not by Susan. A male voice said, ‘Hello.’ Which made Aimee jump.

I thought I must have misdialled and was about to apologize and cut the call when Aimee, recognizing the voice, said a subdued, ‘Hello.’

‘Do you know him?’ I asked her quietly. She nodded.

‘Hello, Aimee, how are you?’ the man asked with a London East End accent.

‘All right,’ she said quietly. I noticed she had gone quite pale.

‘Who is he?’ I whispered to her.

She shrugged, either not knowing his name or not wanting to tell me.

‘What have you been doing with yourself?’ he asked familiarly. ‘It’s a long time since I saw you.’

‘I’ve been doing Christmas,’ Aimee said.

The man laughed. I didn’t know who he was or how he fitted into Aimee’s life, but there was something in his tone I didn’t like. I couldn’t simply cut him off because I didn’t like the sound of his voice, but I was supposed to be monitoring the call. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ I said. ‘I’m Aimee’s foster carer. Can I ask who you are, please?’

‘You can ask, but I ain’t telling you,’ he said with another throaty laugh.

It went quiet at the other end of the phone and the next voice we heard was Susan’s. ‘Aimee, it’s Mum here,’ she said.

‘Hello, Mum,’ Aimee said, clearly relieved to hear her mother’s voice. ‘Where are you?’

‘At JJ’s.’

‘What! I’ve told you not to go there,’ Aimee fumed, jutting her face towards the phone, and taking responsibility for her mother. ‘What do you want to go there for?’

Susan gave a small laugh. ‘I came here over Christmas to have a good time. I can do that if I want.’

‘You’re stupid!’ Aimee said.

No one had mentioned JJ before, but clearly he was well known to Susan and Aimee.

‘When are you going home?’ Aimee demanded of her mother, very worried that her mother was at JJ’s.

‘After the New Year, I guess,’ she said. ‘I’ll be at contact.’

‘When’s New Year?’ Aimee asked me with a frown.

‘Next weekend,’ I said.

‘You’re stupid,’ Aimee said again to her mother. ‘You’ll never get me back if you keep going to JJ’s!’

Susan went quiet and then said in a small voice, ‘I won’t be getting you back anyway. So it doesn’t really matter where I go or what I do.’ Aimee looked as though she was about to cry.

The reason foster carers are asked to monitor phone calls is to safeguard the child and intervene if the content of the call is inappropriate or upsetting for the child. I now decided it was time to step in. ‘Susan, I think it might be best to change the subject. Don’t you?’

‘I agree,’ she said easily, and without the angry outburst I’d anticipated. ‘Aimee, did you have a lovely Christmas at Cathy’s?’ she asked. ‘I bet you did.’ Which was a nice thing to say. Aimee began telling her mother all about Christmas, and Susan ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ in appreciation and seemed genuinely pleased Aimee had had a nice time. My thoughts went back to what the Guardian had told me about the abuse Susan had suffered that had led to drugs and resulted in all her children being taken into care, and again I felt sorry for her.

Because Aimee and her mother hadn’t spoken or seen each other for a few days they had a lot to talk about and their call ran on, but it didn’t matter as long as it stayed positive. Aimee told her mother about the presents she’d received – from Father Christmas and my family; the games we’d all played on Christmas Day; my family; what she’d eaten – ‘lots of chocolate, oh yes and some turkey’; and that she wanted another Christmas very soon. She and her mother were on the phone for over half an hour and I noticed that Susan didn’t once mention her Christmas and Aimee didn’t ask her. I guess the fact that she’d spent it at JJ’s probably said it all.

Once they’d finished and had said goodbye and hung up I asked Aimee if the man who’d answered her mother’s phone and she’d spoken to was JJ.

‘No,’ Aimee replied. ‘He’s one of Mum’s friends. Can’t remember his name. He goes to JJ’s house.’

‘Who is JJ?’ I asked.

‘Another of Mum’s friends,’ Aimee said.

‘Do you know where he lives?’

‘Sort of. It’s in an old house on the other side of town. Mum gets Big H there sometimes when the other guys get busted. It’s like the other houses we went to. Lots of people sleep there and we did a few times. It’s smelly and dark and there’s thick smoke that makes you feel sick. Horrible.’ She shivered. Aimee was clearly talking about one of the drug dens and crack houses that had supplied her mother with drugs and that she’d mentioned before. That Aimee has stayed in those houses and had breathed in that smoke was shocking.