Innocent: Part 3 of 3: The True Story of Siblings Struggling to Survive. Cathy Glass

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      ‘Although in a way it’s probably just as well you did have some of that juice, as it helped me to make the connection.’

‘Glad I was of use,’ Lucy said tartly. ‘Well, at least Molly and Kit are safe and can stay with us.’

      ‘Yes, absolutely, for now at least.’

      Lucy went off to play with them and I continued to make dinner. When Adrian came home – just before dinner – I quietly told him too, and of course he was as shaken as the rest of us.

      ‘All those times the little ones were ill and they needn’t have been,’ he said, greatly saddened. ‘Those poor children, and the worry it caused you.’

      ‘Caused all of us,’ I said. For to be honest, since Molly and Kit had arrived and been constantly sick, it had been one long worry for us all. Only once they’d stopped being ill had it become easier and we could enjoy looking after them, and then we’d had the worry of them being moved.

      We ate together and then Adrian went to see Kirsty, saying he’d be back late as he didn’t have to be up for work in the morning and I shouldn’t wait up for him. Once Molly and Kit were in bed, I telephoned my mother. I told her that Molly and Kit were no longer being sick, as the cause had been identified.

      ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I thought the doctors would eventually find out what they were allergic to.’

I left it like that and didn’t explain further. Mum didn’t need to know about FDIA and the horror of a mother intentionally making her children ill – not at her age. It would upset her and play on her mind. Bad enough to know that a parent had repeatedly lashed out and hit a child in anger, or neglected them through drug or alcohol abuse, as had happened to many of the children I’d fostered. But how much worse to learn that a mother had systematically made her children ill over months, if not years? I had to remind myself that it was a mental illness and I shouldn’t judge Aneta.

      I was still puzzled by the linctus Tess had referred to, which Aneta had bought online to induce vomiting. I’d never heard of such a thing, and with Molly and Kit asleep, Adrian out, Lucy getting ready to go out with her friends and Paula relaxing in her bedroom, I went into the front room and sat at my computer. I typed how to induce vomiting into a search engine and a list of websites appeared. I found what I was looking for very quickly. It wasn’t called linctus but syrup, and yes, it could be bought easily online. Its original purpose, I read, was for the emergency treatment of certain kinds of poisoning by making the patient vomit. It came with the warning that it should not be used to cause weight loss, and if used regularly it could lead to serious health problems, including rashes, breathing difficulties, seizures and even death. I failed to understand why such an item would be available for the public to buy at all, but then of course you can buy virtually anything on the Internet now. There was a picture of a bottle of the syrup, just like the one Aneta would have bought to make her children sick. I reminded myself again that FDIA was a mental illness and I shouldn’t demonize Aneta.

Wanting to know more about her illness so I could try to understand it, I typed Munchausen by proxy – as FDIA is more commonly referred to – into the search engine and found a medical website that gave a lot of information. I began to read: Munchausen syndrome by proxy (MSP), also known as Factitious Disorder Imposed on Another (FDIA), is a mental illness that affects caregivers, especially mothers of small children. Someone suffering from FDIA will act as though their child is sick. They will lie to doctors about their child’s health in order to gain attention and sympathy. They may also intentionally make their child sick, resulting in painful or risky medical procedures for the child. Someone who has FDIA may cause symptoms by withholding food or fluid, poisoning, suffocating, giving the child inappropriate medicines or not giving them prescribed medicines.

      Common symptoms and illnesses found in the victims of FDIA are vomiting, diarrhoea, seizures, breathing difficulty and asthma, infections and allergic reactions. This was exactly what Molly and Kit had been suffering from, induced by the syrup. I read on. Identifying someone with FDIA is difficult. Many have suffered mental, physical or sexual abuse growing up. I had no idea if that was true of Aneta. People who have FDIA appear to be attentive parents, concerned with the well-being of their child. That was also true of Aneta. Many times, the child’s symptoms do not match a single disease. True again.

      One way to confirm suspicions of FDIA is to separate the mother from her child and see if the symptoms disappear. Unless, like Aneta, you continue to poison your children from a distance, I thought bitterly. Doctors can look at patterns of appointments and hospital attendance. For example, a child who presents with a range of different illnesses in a short time may cause suspicion. The article ended: If you believe a child is currently a victim of FDIA, you should contact the police or child protection services.

In view of what I’d read, I wondered if the doctors should have suspected something was wrong sooner, but that was for the health authority to look into. I answered the emails in my inbox and then, exhausted after a gruelling week, switched off the computer, made a cup of tea and went into the living room to write up my log notes. It was only when I opened my log that I realized it was Friday the 13th. Associated with bad luck and misfortune, it seemed quite fitting, given what had been revealed today. But foster carers are expected to be professional and non-judgemental, so I wrote up my log notes objectively and dispassionately. The weekend beckoned and we had a lot to be grateful for: Molly and Kit were healthy and were being allowed to stay with us. My family and my mother were all doing well, so I needed to stop worrying. Sometimes that’s easier said than done in fostering.

      During the weekend my thoughts often returned to what Aneta had been doing to her children, but overall it was a good weekend. Probably the best we’d had since they’d arrived. The pressure had eased now they’d stopped being sick, and now I knew they would be with us for Christmas I could plan ahead. On Saturday, Lucy, Paula and I took Molly and Kit into town to do some Christmas shopping. I had a lot to buy for and having the girls there meant they could distract the children while I bought some of their presents. We spent over an hour in the toy shop and then another hour in the toy area of the department store. Many new toys were on display for children to explore and play with (and persuade their parents or carers to buy!). Lucy and Paula also began their Christmas shopping, and we had lunch out. It was such a relief to know Molly and Kit could eat what they wanted and I didn’t have to worry about possible allergens the food or drink contained. However, it would take time before I completely got out of the habit of checking labels – I found myself doing it automatically.

When we arrived home that afternoon, I decided to give the children the toy mobile phones I’d bought for their leaving gifts, minus the card. I could have added them to their Christmas sacks, but I thought it would be nice if they had them now to enjoy. We didn’t need to keep them amused from then on; they spent most of the time on their phones, pretending to make and receive calls. Kirsty came in to say hello to everyone and then she and Adrian went to see a play at the repertory theatre in a neighbouring town.

      The children slept well and I woke to hear Molly on her phone, pretending to talk to Kit. Kit’s phone was downstairs. Sunday was a bright, cold day and I took the children to a park a short drive away that had different play equipment. Lucy came with us, but Paula stayed at home to complete some college work, having been out shopping with us for most of the previous day. Later we all had dinner together, and then prepared ourselves for Monday and the start of another working week.

      ‘Are we seeing Mummy on Monday?’ Molly asked as I took her to bed.

      ‘No, love, not tomorrow.’

      ‘Can I see Daddy?’

      ‘Not at present.’

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