Читать книгу Taken - Rosie Lewis - Страница 13

As it was, I didn’t have to bring the children along. Emily and Jamie were both out with their dad for the day and my mother was more than happy for me to drop Megan and Zadie over to her while I went. The LAC review was to be held in one of the interview rooms at the local authority municipal buildings and Peggy was waiting in reception when I arrived. Solidly built, with steely grey hair and heavy-framed glasses, she angled her chin when she saw me, a greeting I had come to accept as friendly, though until I drew closer and she smiled, it looked anything but.

Des, my supervising social worker from Bright Heights Fostering Agency, usually accompanied me to LAC reviews but plans were in place for him to transfer to the US to conduct research into a youth scheme that was working well there. With a mountain of paperwork to catch up on before he left, he had sent me a text to say that he wasn’t sure whether he’d make it to the meeting. Apart from the statutory visit each month that he was obliged to make, I had heard very little from him in the past weeks, although he had paid us a flying visit in the week, to meet Megan. Having developed a close friendship with him since becoming a foster carer, I missed his impromptu visits and calls.

Angie, the midwife who had overseen Megan’s care in hospital, was standing at Peggy’s side. She held her arms out when she saw me and after giving me a hug the first thing she wanted to know was how Megan was doing. I was about to tell her when Peggy said, ‘Shall we get on, ladies?’ She rammed the thick file she was holding under her arm and turned, marching wheezily in the direction of the lifts. Angie raised an eyebrow and we exchanged smirks, like chastised schoolgirls, before falling into step behind. ‘Christina’s not here yet but we’ll go ahead without her,’ Peggy said as the lift moved towards the second floor. I had been feeling a bit nervous about meeting Megan’s birth mum after witnessing her volatility at the hospital and so was quite relieved to hear that. ‘The morning’ll run away with us otherwise and I’ve got far too much to do.’

The interview room was tiny, so small that it was a struggle to open the door wide enough to get inside. A long table took up the entire width of the space, leaving no gap at either end to access the mismatched chairs on the opposite side. The chairperson, a thin man in his early forties with a well-manicured beard and coppery, thinning hair, was already seated in one of the nearest chairs. Standing awkwardly in the cramped quarters, he shook our hands and introduced himself as John Noble.

‘It was the only room free, sorry, everyone,’ Peggy said, her voice booming off the walls. ‘Now, I would climb over there, but I’m not sure I’d ever make it out again. At least, not without a hoist.’

‘It’s all right, I’ll go,’ I offered, pleased that I was wearing trousers. I perched on the desk and swung my legs over the other side, taking a seat on one of the unforgiving wooden chairs. Angie followed my lead and sat beside me. Peggy thanked us, taking one of the seats opposite with a loud humph. John retook the seat beside Peggy and glanced at his watch. It was almost ten o’clock, the time the meeting was scheduled to begin.

‘Christina’s not here,’ Peggy told John. ‘I received a call from the legal team earlier, which I’ll tell you about in a moment. I suggest we start on time and if she turns up we’ll have to recap. Agreed?’

Peggy’s tone invited compliance and we all nodded our agreement. John went on to tell us that he was present to mediate between the different parties and ensure the correct procedures were followed, but without Christina present it was unlikely that any disagreements would arise. After introducing ourselves, Angie was invited to give a summary of Megan’s health-care needs and I was surprised to hear that there were some concerns about her hearing as well as her low weight.

Apparently, a test conducted in the hospital soon after Megan was born had suggested that there might be some loss of hearing, and the details had been recorded in her red book. While I had skimmed through the log, in truth I had been so focused on dealing with her symptoms of withdrawal that I hadn’t taken much notice of anything else. I knew that children with neonatal abstinence syndrome could suffer a range of health, behavioural and learning difficulties, and my heart squeezed at the possibility of little Megan having so much to contend with. I felt a sudden stab of fury towards her birth mother.

Angie must have noticed the unease on my face because she was looking at me when she said: ‘Just because we failed to get a clear response from the first hearing test doesn’t mean we won’t at the next one. It’s difficult to test hearing in a baby as young as Megan and the results are certainly not conclusive. We find that, for most, their hearing improves when their cleft is corrected.’

I nodded my thanks to Angie and at John’s invitation I summarised Megan’s first week at home. I told them that she had been prescribed an antacid and that her sickness had eased a little. ‘She’s coping well, bless her. I’m beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel.’

Angie tilted her head to one side and gave me a warm smile. After updating them on Megan’s routines and general well-being it was Peggy’s turn to address the meeting, and what she had to say took us all by surprise. ‘Christina was arrested yesterday for shoplifting,’ she said, looking at each of us in turn. ‘Her probation officer has been in touch with our legal team to say that she’s been bailed and was released this morning. Heaven knows where she is now.’ The social worker sighed and then looked at Angie. ‘I have to say, any suggestion of disability isn’t going to help us in tying things up quickly this end. Most adopters run a mile at the mention of health problems.’

Angie held up her hands. ‘It’s a consideration at this stage, that’s all. Megan’s head circumference is on the small side but we’d expect that with NAS babies and, as I said, newborn hearing tests aren’t conclusive. Megan will need a repeat test in a few weeks to see if the results are the same. If they are, she’ll be referred to an audiologist.’

Peggy nodded decisively and then moved on to discuss Megan’s care plan. Usually, when a baby is removed from its mother, an assessment is undertaken to establish their ability to parent, but since Christina’s drug-dependence problems were so severe, Peggy was almost certain that she would relinquish her parental rights of her own accord.

It was unusual for parents to give up their rights to their children without a fight, in my experience, although it sometimes happened, particularly when they knew in their hearts that they weren’t able to care for them. If Christina contested the local authority’s plans to permanently remove Megan from her care though, a lengthy legal process would follow, with lots of toing and froing between Christina’s representation and the local authority legal team. It wasn’t unusual for cases to take anything up to two years or more to resolve, so I was happy to hear Peggy reiterating that she was confident of a speedy resolution.

‘We’re making efforts to trace Megan’s birth father at the moment, which is proving to be more complex than you might think,’ Peggy said with a coded glance. ‘Christina is insistent that’ – she glanced down, consulting her notes – ‘Briz Clark, her most recent partner, the one she fled from, isn’t Megan’s father, although as you probably know, we need to demonstrate to the court that we’ve exhausted all avenues of enquiry in finding him, whoever he may be, before we rule the option out. Of course, if he’s found he may want to be considered to care for Megan, but my guess is that Christina is simply plucking names out of the air and hoping she’ll come up trumps. She isn’t at all sure who he is.’

Angie inclined her eyebrows meaningfully and blew out some air. After establishing that no one had anything further to add, John proposed a date for the next review and closed the meeting. Angie gathered her belongings and gave me a quick hug. Peggy inclined her head. ‘Thank you, Angie,’ she said, as the midwife shuffled herself back over the table. ‘You too, John.’ The chairman shook our hands. I grabbed my bag ready to follow them out but Peggy lifted her hand. ‘Rosie, would you stay a moment? I’d like a word if I may –’

John held the door open for Angie and when it was just the two of us left, Peggy asked how Zadie was coping after the shock confirmation of her pregnancy. I had just finished updating her when the door swung open and crashed into the back of Peggy’s chair. The social worker’s jaw dropped, one of her habitual habits, and she turned around.

Both of us stared at the young woman standing in the doorway.