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

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ to talk to us next week. We will ask her then.’

      ‘I miss Mummy and Daddy,’ she said, her little face puckering and close to tears.

      ‘I know, love. It’s difficult. But it’s important we keep you and Kit safe and healthy – just as you are now.’

      An older child might have asked more and delved deeper, but at Molly’s age she didn’t have the reasoning or vocabulary to do that, although she would intuit what she couldn’t verbalize and needed lots of reassurance and hugs, just as Kit did. Despite what their mother (and possibly their father too) had done to them, they loved their parents.

On Monday Tess telephoned, asked us what sort of weekend we’d had and then said she’d visit us on Wednesday afternoon at two o’clock. She didn’t have anything new to tell me at present. When I finished the call, Molly asked me who was on the phone.

      ‘Your social worker, Tess,’ I said. ‘She’s coming to see us on Wednesday. That’s not today or tomorrow but the next day.’

      ‘Will I see Mummy and Daddy then?’

      ‘No, love, but we can ask her about that.’

      ‘You ask,’ she said.

      ‘Yes, I will.’ I gave her and Kit another big hug.

      I took the children to our local park on Monday afternoon, and then on Tuesday a fostering friend of mine visited. She was looking after a four-year-old boy who attended nursery five mornings a week. He played nicely with Molly and went out of his way to include Kit in the games, even adapting them for a younger child. He was only three months older then Molly, but his social skills were far more advanced. He was able to organize little games and knew how to take turns and share. I thought again that Molly would benefit from nursery and playing with similar-aged children. She played with Kit sometimes, of course, and my family, and I spent hours playing with both children, but she needed to interact with her peer group. I made a note to raise the matter with Tess. Previously Aneta had objected to the children attending nursery or playgroup on the grounds they were susceptible to germs and it would make them ill. That concern had now been negated. It wasn’t germs that had been making Molly and Kit ill, but Aneta. I didn’t see any reason why Molly shouldn’t start attending nursery for a few mornings a week, even if their mother still objected.

On Wednesday, five minutes before Tess was due to arrive, I changed the boxes of toys in the living room for fresh ones in the hope that Molly and Kit would be kept amused while Tess and I talked. Unfortunately, Tess was half an hour late, by which time the children had tired of the toys, so I changed them again. I find that rotating toys allows children to come to them afresh. I’d put their mobile phones out of sight as the noise they made, especially when on together, would make it difficult for Tess and me to concentrate or even hear each other properly.

      Tess apologized for being late, asked for a glass of water and went into the living room. ‘My! You two look well,’ she exclaimed as soon as she saw Molly and Kit.

      ‘Can you see a difference?’ I asked, pleased.

      ‘Yes, even since the last time I saw them. They look so much brighter.’

      ‘My family and I thought so too, but it’s good to hear it from you.’

      ‘So how are you both?’ she asked Molly and Kit as she sipped her water. ‘You look fine to me.’

      Kit carried on playing, while Molly looked to me to ask the question that was on her mind.

      ‘Molly would like to know when she can see her parents,’ I said. ‘She’s asked me a few times.’

      ‘That reminds me,’ Tess said. ‘I’ve got a photograph for you.’ She delved into her bag and took out a six-by-four-inch photograph of Molly and Kit with their parents. It had been taken at contact, presumably by the contact supervisor on Filip’s or Aneta’s phone.

‘That’s great. I’ll buy a frame for it and we can put in on the shelf in your bedroom,’ I told the children enthusiastically. Most children in care have at least one family photograph, some have many. It helps to keep the memory of their parents alive while they are separated from them.

      Molly looked at the picture and then at me again. I knew why: Tess hadn’t answered my question.

      ‘So is there no contact at present?’ I asked Tess.

      ‘No, but Mummy and Daddy both send their love,’ she told the children. ‘You and Kit are being well looked after and are happy here with Cathy, so there is nothing for you to worry about. Christmas is coming. You’ll have lots of fun. What do you want Father Christmas to bring?’ While Molly thought about this, Tess said quietly to me, ‘Aneta is in –’ and she named the psychiatric unit in the city hospital. I nodded. ‘Their solicitor has been in touch. Filip is asking for contact, just for him. We’re considering it, but I want to hear from the police first.’

      I nodded again.

      ‘Can I see Mummy and Daddy?’ Molly asked.

      ‘Not for now,’ Tess said. ‘Cathy will tell you if that changes.’ Clearly Tess had decided not to tell Molly their mother was receiving psychiatric care and I thought that was the right decision. Mental illness can be difficult for adults to understand; it would be virtually impossible to explain it to a three-year-old, and Molly didn’t need to know. ‘OK?’ Tess asked Molly, and she gave a small nod. I thought it was time to change the subject.

      ‘I was thinking it would be nice if Molly went to nursery a few mornings each week,’ I said. ‘I could take Kit to a toddler group so they both get used to playing with other children.’

      ‘Excellent idea,’ Tess said positively, and smiled at Molly. She took a notepad and pen from her bag and made a note. ‘Do you have a nursery in mind?’ she asked me.

‘There is a good one attached to our local infant school, but I know they have a waiting list.’

      ‘Looked-after children can usually be found a place,’ she said. ‘Give me the details and I’ll speak to them.’

      I told her the name and address of the nursery, then as she wrote I quickly googled their contact number on my phone and read that out. ‘They also run a toddler group one afternoon a week where the parent or carer stays. There isn’t a waiting list, I checked. I was thinking of taking Kit to that. Obviously, Molly would come too.’

      ‘Fine with me,’ Tess said, and made another note. ‘Anything else?’ she asked. Both children were playing again.

      ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ve received this letter from the allergy clinic at the hospital.’ I passed her the letter. ‘You remember a referral was made that time I had to take Kit to the hospital and he was kept in overnight?’ She nodded as she read the letter.

      ‘He doesn’t need to go to this, does he?’ she asked me, looking up.

      ‘No, I don’t think so. He’s not allergic to anything.’

      ‘Other than vomiting linctus,’ Tess said cuttingly.

      ‘Exactly. If you are OK with it, I thought I’d phone and cancel the appointment.’

      ‘Yes. The children СКАЧАТЬ