Читать книгу I Miss Mummy: The true story of a frightened young girl who is desperate to go home - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 9

Convinced I’d have a disturbed night, after checking on Alice I went straight to bed, hoping for a couple of hours’ sleep before she woke, distressed at finding herself in a strange room. I woke at 1.30 a.m. and, although I couldn’t hear Alice crying, I wondered if she’d called out and I’d subconsciously heard her. But when I went round to her room she was fast asleep, now curled on to her side, but still with one little hand pressed against her chin. I returned to bed and woke again just after 4.00. I immediately checked on her, but she was still asleep. At 6.00, when my alarm clock went off, Alice remained asleep, having slept far better than I had.

It was Monday, a school day, so I needed to get going – showering and dressing, and then making the two packed lunches before I woke Adrian, Paula and Lucy. However, I also wanted to be with Alice when she woke so that I could reassure her, for I could imagine how frightening it would be at her age to wake from a deep sleep, alone in a strange room. She probably wouldn’t even remember how she got there the night before. I continued my normal weekday morning routine but interrupted it every ten minutes or so to check on her. Quickly showering, and with a towel wrapped round me, I checked on Alice. I hurriedly dressed in my bedroom and then checked on Alice. I went downstairs, fed Toscha and put the kettle on; then I returned upstairs to check on Alice. I made the packed lunches and checked on Alice. Then at 6.45, as I again peered into her room, I was rewarded by seeing her eyes flicker open, followed by a big yawn.

I had been right to be concerned. The second Alice woke and saw unfamiliar surroundings she sat bolt upright in bed and cried, ‘Nana!’, her voice tiny with fright.

I was immediately by her bed. ‘Hello, love,’ I smiled. ‘It’s all right. You’re safe. I’m Cathy. You came to my house late last night.’

Alice looked at me with the same wide-eyed amazement she had the night before. She was completely overwhelmed, and probably wondering why and how I’d been summoned into her life like a genie from a lamp.

‘There’s nothing for you to worry about,’ I continued, kneeling by the bed and taking one of her little hands in mine. ‘You are staying with me for a while. I’m a foster carer. Do you remember seeing Adrian, Lucy and Paula last night? They are in their beds, still asleep.’

She looked at me and blinked. ‘Nana?’ she asked in the same small voice, her eyes widening further. ‘Where’s my nana and grandpa?’

‘They’re fine, love, they’ll be at home in their house. I expect they are waking up, just like you.’ I’d obviously no idea where her grandparents were or what they were doing, but this seemed the most likely option and would, I hoped, reassure Alice. ‘Nana and Grandpa know you’re here,’ I added, feeling she should know this and that it might help.

Alice blinked again and then her face began to crumple. ‘I want Nana and Grandpa,’ she cried, tears springing from her eyes.

‘Oh, love, don’t be upset,’ I soothed, putting my arm around her and holding her close. ‘You’ll see Nana and Grandpa soon.’ Again, I had to assume this would be so for, given that Alice’s grandparents had been her main carers for the last six months, I expected the social services to arrange contact so that Alice could see them within the next day or so. My reassurance seemed to help. The tears stopped and Alice’s face brightened a little. ‘That’s better, love,’ I said, and I cuddled her.

Aware we would be having a very busy day, as soon as I’d woken the rest of the family, I would get Alice dressed and ready. When a child arrives, the first few days are always hectic. Apart from settling the child into our home, all the professionals connected with the case would phone or visit; clothes and toys would need to be collected from home if at all possible, or I would go out and buy new clothes; school and contact arrangements would be clarified; and if there was any reason to believe the child had been physically harmed or was in bad health then an emergency medical would be arranged.

Alice had arrived with only the clothes she had on and I’d already sorted out a tracksuit and underwear from my emergency supply, which I kept in an ottoman in my bedroom. But now, seeing Alice properly for the first time, I realized that the tracksuit I’d selected was far too big. Although Alice was four she was so dainty I guessed she was probably wearing three-year-old clothes. ‘Just wait here a moment, love,’ I said, standing, ‘and I’ll find you something to wear until we can get your own clothes.’

She looked up at me, wide eyed and incredulous, and, not for the first time since I’d begun fostering, I wondered how on earth these children coped with all the turmoil and upheaval in their short lives; I doubt I would have coped so well. Before I left the room I took one of the cuddly toys I’d arranged on the chair in Alice’s bedroom and tucked it beside her on the bed. ‘Ben will keep you company,’ I said. ‘I won’t be a minute.’ Alice slowly blinked, her long black eyelashes fluttering gracefully; she really was a beautiful child, and despite everything that had happened to her she seemed to have a natural inner peace.

Going round the landing en route to my bedroom to change the clothes for Alice, I knocked on each of the children’s bedroom doors and then poked my head round. ‘It’s seven o’clock, time to wake up,’ I called, adding, ‘Alice is awake,’ which I hoped might provide the incentive for them to leap out of bed.

In my bedroom, I rummaged in the large ottoman, where I found another tracksuit, pale blue, which looked more like Alice’s size. I also took out some smaller-sized socks and pants. Closing the lid, I returned round the landing, again poking my head into the children’s bedrooms. ‘It’s seven o’clock,’ I repeated. ‘Time to get up. Alice is awake.’ And whereas before I’d been met with silence, I now heard murmurs and groans suggesting they were awake and might even get up.

Alice was exactly as I’d left her, sitting up in bed and staring at her surroundings, with the cuddly toy at her side. ‘All right, love,’ I said, ‘let’s get you dressed. You can have a bath later, tonight.’ Had she arrived dirty, as some children do, I would have bathed her straightaway, but Alice looked clean and it was preferable she got to know me a little before I started bathing her. ‘You can wear these today,’ I said, showing her the tracksuit. ‘I’ll wash the clothes you have on and you can wear them again tomorrow.’ For in the new and unfamiliar world in which Alice now found herself, she might have thought I was taking away her own clothes for good.

Alice remained sitting up in the bed, just looking at me, and I gently eased back the duvet. ‘If you get out of bed, I’ll show you where the toilet is,’ I said. ‘I expect you want to go.’

She continued to look at me in wonder but didn’t move. I gently eased her legs out of bed and helped her to stand. ‘This way,’ I said cheerily, taking her hand. ‘The toilet is round here.’ I led her from the bedroom and round the landing to the toilet, where I opened the door.

She stood looking in, making no attempt to use the toilet. ‘Can you manage by yourself?’ I asked. ‘Or do you need some help?’ At her age she should have been able to manage the toilet alone, although I’d looked after many children who couldn’t. ‘Do you want some help?’ I asked again.

Alice slowly shook her head and began to raise her dress. I held the door to, giving her some privacy, and waited for her to finish. Hearing it flush, I went in, ran some water in the sink and helped her to wash her hands. I guessed Alice probably had these self-care skills but was so overwhelmed at present she needed help. I dried her hands on the towel and then led her back along the landing towards her room.

Paula appeared from her room. ‘Hi, Alice,’ she called, smiling and giving a little wave.

Alice started, unblinking and overawed.

‘This is Paula, my daughter,’ I reminded her. ‘You remember you saw her last night?’ A little smile crossed Alice’s face. ‘She remembers,’ I said to Paula. ‘She’s just very shy at present.’

‘See you at breakfast,’ Paula said. ‘I’m going to shower and dress.’

She gave another little wave and Alice very cautiously raised one hand and gave a little wave back.

At the age of four a child should normally be able to dress him or herself, apart from tricky bits like doing up buttons and shoelaces. But as Alice had come into care with so little information, I’d no idea what she was capable of doing. And given that she was clearly overwhelmed, if not traumatized, I told her I would help her dress. She cooperated by raising her hands so that I could easily draw her dress up and over her head. As I changed her into the clean clothes I also, unfortunately, had to keep a lookout for any marks or bruises which might have suggested she’d been physically abused, and which I’d have to tell the social worker about as soon as their offices opened. Alice, like all children coming into care, would have a medical but it might not be arranged for another two to three weeks.

I’ll never forget the time, in my early years of fostering, when I stripped an eighteen-month-old toddler ready for his bath only find his torso covered in angry bruises and red weals, which turned out to be cigarette burns. It was late in the evening on the day he’d arrived and I was completely shocked. I quickly wrapped him in his clothes again and, leaving the bath, fled to Accident and Emergency at our local hospital. They examined and X-rayed him and kept him in overnight (I stayed with him). The paediatrician’s report showed that the toddler had eighteen recent bruises, thirteen cigarette burns and two (old) fractures to his ribs. I’d been so shocked and horrified that anyone, let alone a parent, could inflict such cruelty on a small child that the memory of that night had stayed vivid. But as I now changed Alice thankfully there were no marks of any description and she looked very clean and well cared for.

Once I’d helped her into the new tracksuit I sat her on the bed and, kneeling at her feet, began putting the socks on her. As I worked I could feel her large eyes looking at me, probably wondering who on earth this strange woman was, who was nothing like her nana. I could hear the rest of the family getting ready: Lucy’s music was on, Paula had finished in the bathroom and was now in her bedroom getting dressed, and Adrian was in the shower.

‘OK, love,’ I said. ‘Ready.’ I lifted Alice off the bed. ‘Let’s go downstairs for some breakfast and you can tell me what you’d like to eat. We’ve got lots of different cereals, or you can have toast, or egg, or whatever you like.’ (Within reason, I thought.)

Alice looked up at me, her little mouth slightly open in wonder; then she slipped her hand into mine. I smiled, and we went out of her bedroom and towards the top of the stairs. Before we began downstairs she drew me to a halt, and I looked down into her big brown eyes.

‘Cathy?’ she asked quietly, and innocently. ‘Are you going to be my mummy now?’

I could have wept. ‘Oh, love,’ I said, bending down so I was at her height. ‘I’m not your mummy, but I will be doing mummy things for you. While you are with me I’ll look after you – make your meals, take you to nursery, play with you and take you to the park. Is that OK?’

Alice considered this for a moment and then said, ‘Is that what mummies do?’

‘Yes, love, usually, or perhaps it was your nana and grandpa who did those things for you?’

She gave a small nod. ‘Yes, my nana and grandpa did mummy things, while my mummy was ill. I miss my nana and grandpa. Can I see them soon?’

‘Yes, I hope so, love.’ And again I wondered why Alice hadn’t been allowed to stay with her grandparents, who seemed to have done a good job of looking after her and were obviously much loved.