Where Has Mummy Gone?. Cathy Glass
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You’ll be able to take and collect her?’ Neave asked me. It’s expected that foster carers take children to and from contact, school and any appointments they may have.
‘Yes,’ I said, and made a note of the days and times in my diary.
‘I want to see my mum now!’ Melody demanded, having finished the biscuits.
‘You’ve just seen her,’ Neave said, ‘and you’ll see her again tomorrow – Wednesday.’
‘That’s not long,’ Jill said positively.
‘I want to see my mum at home!’
‘The Family Centre is like a home,’ I said. ‘It’s got sofas to sit on and lots of games to play with. I’ve taken children before and they always have a good time.’
Melody threw me a withering look and I returned my attention to the form, as did Jill.
‘Sibling contact with her half-brothers and sisters?’ Jill asked Neave.
‘No, there is no contact.’
‘And the care plan is long-term foster care then?’ Jill said.
‘Yes,’ Neave confirmed.
We had come to the end of the form and I placed my copy in my fostering folder.
‘I’ll need to arrange a LAC review,’ Neave now said. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I have the details.’ LAC stands for ‘Looked After Child’, and all children in care have regular reviews to make sure everything is being done as it should to help them. The first review is usually held within the first four weeks of a child coming into care.
Toscha, our very old, docile and lovable cat sauntered out from behind the sofa where she’d been sleeping next to the radiator.
‘A cat!’ Melody cried in horror.
‘Don’t you like cats?’ Jim asked her.
‘No, they’re horrible. They have fleas that bite you.’ She began scratching her legs and I saw she had a lot of old insect bites.
‘Toscha doesn’t have fleas,’ I said.
‘My mum says all cats have fleas.’
‘I treat Toscha with flea drops so she doesn’t ever get them,’ I explained.
‘Do you have cats at home?’ Jill asked.
‘They come in when we open the door.’
‘There’s always a lot of stray cats around the entrance to the house and inside the communal hallway,’ Neave said. ‘I don’t expect anyone treats them.’
‘Try not to scratch,’ I said. ‘You’ll make them worse. I’ll put some antiseptic ointment on after your bath tonight.’
‘I don’t have baths,’ Melody said firmly. ‘It’s too cold.’ I’d heard similar before from other children I’d fostered who’d come from homes where they couldn’t afford heating and hot water.
‘It’s warm here,’ I reassured her. ‘The central heating is always on in winter and there’s plenty of hot water.’
Melody looked bewildered.
‘It’s bound to seem a bit strange at first,’ Jill said, ‘but Cathy is here to look after you. If you need anything or have any questions, ask her or one of her children. You’ll meet them later.’ Jill knew, as I did, that despite Melody’s bravado, as an eight-year-old child away from her mother, she must be feeling pretty scared and anxious.
‘Shall we look round the house now?’ Neave said to Jim. ‘Then we need to get back to the office.’
It’s usual for the foster carer to show the social worker and child around when they first arrive, so we all stood. I began with the room we were in, which looked out over the garden. ‘As you can see, we have some swings at the bottom of the garden,’ I said to Melody. ‘And there are bikes and other outdoor play things in the shed. You can play out there when the weather is good.’
‘And there are parks close by,’ Jill told her. ‘Cathy takes all the children she fosters to the park and other nice places, like the zoo and activity centres.’
Melody looked at us blankly. Giving her a reassuring smile, I led the way out of the living room and into our kitchen-cum-dining room. ‘This is where we eat,’ I said, pointing to the table. Toscha had followed us out and I saw Melody eyeing her carefully as she wandered over to her empty food bowl in a recess of the kitchen. ‘It’s not her dinner time yet,’ I said to Melody, trying to put her at ease.
‘Cats are always hungry,’ Jim added.
Melody looked suspiciously at Toscha and gave her leg another good scratch. ‘Honestly, love, she hasn’t got fleas,’ I said. I then led the way down the hall and into the front room. ‘This is a quiet room, if anyone wants to be alone,’ I explained. It held the computer, sound system, shelves of books, a cabinet with a lockable drawer where I kept important documents, and a small table and four chairs. It was sometimes used for homework and studying, and if anyone wanted their own space.
‘Thank you,’ Neave said and we headed out.
We went upstairs, where I suggested we look at Melody’s room first. ‘It’s not my room,’ she said grumpily.
‘It’ll feel more comfortable once you have your things in here,’ I said as we entered. I told all the children this when I showed them round, for while the room was clean and tidy with a wardrobe, shelves, drawers and freshly laundered bed linen, it lacked any personalization that makes a room feel lived in and homely. Then I realized my mistake. Melody hadn’t come with any possessions. ‘Will her mother be sending some of her belongings?’ I now asked Neave and Jim.
‘There isn’t much,’ Neave replied. ‘They moved around so often that what they did have got ditched or left behind along the way. I’ll ask Amanda tomorrow.’
‘Have you got a special doll or teddy bear you would like from home?’ Jill asked Melody. A treasured item such as this helps a child to settle. Most children would have at least one favourite toy, but Melody just shrugged.
‘Perhaps one you sleep with?’ I suggested.
‘No, I sleep with my mum,’ she said. That Melody didn’t have one special toy was another indication of the very basic existence she’d lived with her mother. ‘I’ve got a ball,’ she added as an afterthought.
‘Would you like me to ask your mother for it?’ Neave asked her.
‘Don’t know where it is,’ she said disinterestedly, so I changed my approach.
‘You can choose some posters to put on the walls of your bedroom when we go shopping at the weekend,’ I said brightly. ‘And I’m sure I have a spare teddy bear here if you’d like one to keep you company.’ I always have a few handy.
‘Don’t mind,’ she said, which I took as a yes.
I showed them where the toilet and bathroom were, and then led them in and out of my children’s bedrooms, mentioning as we went that all our bedrooms, including Melody’s, were private, and that we didn’t go into each other’s rooms unless we were asked to, and we always knocked first.
‘That’s the same in a lot of homes,’ Jill told Melody, who was looking rather nonplussed. Having spent most of her life living in a single room with her mother in multi-occupancy houses, this was probably all very new to her.
Lastly, I opened the door to my bedroom so they could see in. ‘This is where I sleep,’ I told Melody. ‘If you need me during the night, call out and I’ll come to you.’
‘Do you leave a nightlight on in the landing?’ Neave asked.
‘Yes, and