Where Has Mummy Gone?. Cathy Glass

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      Chapter Four

       School

      Melody finally went to sleep shortly before nine o’clock, cuddling the teddy bear I’d given to her and with me sitting on her bed, stroking her forehead. Bless her. I felt so sorry for her. I was sure she was a good kid who was badly missing her mother. Yes, she was feisty, streetwise, could become angry at times and would need firm boundaries, but I felt positive that once she’d settled I could help her to a better life, which is what fostering is all about. Because it was unlikely Melody could return to her mother, the social services would try to find a suitable relative to look after her as the first option. They are called kinship carers and are considered the next best option if a child can’t be looked after by their own parents. If there wasn’t a suitable relative then she would be matched with a long-term foster carer, and if that happened it was possible I might be considered, but that was all in the future.

      Once I was sure Melody was in a deep sleep, I moved quietly away from her bed and, turning the light down low, came out of her bedroom. I left the door ajar so I could easily hear her if she was restless in the night. I checked that Paula, Lucy and Adrian were taking turns in the bathroom. Even at their ages they still needed the occasional reminder to make sure they were in bed at a reasonable time. Some evenings, as with this evening, they were mostly in their bedrooms, doing their homework or relaxing, but at other times, especially at the weekends, they would all be downstairs in the living room, talking, playing a board game or watching television. I felt it was easier for a new child to relax and settle in if my family carried on as normal. I’d see them later before they went to bed, but now I went downstairs to write up my log notes.

      All foster carers in the UK are required to keep a daily record of the child or children they are looking after. This includes appointments, the child’s health and wellbeing, education, significant events and any disclosures the child may make about their past. As well as charting the child’s progress, it can act as an aide-mémoire for the foster carer if asked about a specific day. When the child leaves, this record is placed on file at the social services. I wrote objectively and, where appropriate, verbatim about Melody’s arrival and her first day with us – about a page, which I secured in my fostering folder and returned to the lockable drawer in the front room.

      I checked on Melody – she was fast asleep – and then as Adrian, Lucy and Paula came downstairs I spent some time talking to them before they went to bed. By 10.30 p.m. everyone was asleep and I put Toscha in her bed for the night and went up myself, again checking on Melody before I got into bed.

      I never sleep well when there is a new child in the house. I’m half listening out in case they wake, frightened, not knowing where they are and in need of reassurance. But despite my restlessness and looking in on Melody three times, she slept very well, and I had to wake her at 7 a.m. to get ready for school.

      ‘Not going,’ she said as I opened her bedroom curtains to let in some light. ‘I need to go home and get my mum up.’

      ‘Melody, your mother will be able to get herself up, love. You’ll see her later at the Family Centre. Now get dressed, please. I want to go into school early today so I can buy you a new school uniform.’ She reluctantly clambered out of bed. ‘You can wear these for now,’ I said, handing her the fresh clothes I’d taken from my store.

      ‘Not more clean clothes!’ she sighed. ‘You must like washing.’

      I smiled. She could be so quaint and old-fashioned with her remarks – an old head on young shoulders – but then of course she’d had to grow up quickly and take care of herself, living with her mother.

      ‘The washing machine does it,’ I said.

      ‘My mum and me had to go to the launderette.’

      ‘Yes, many people do that.’ I left her to get dressed.

      Melody wasn’t used to a routine or having to leave the house on time to go to school, because she’d hardly ever gone to school, so I had to chivvy her along. She didn’t even know the name of her school, let alone where it was. I explained it was on the other side of town – about a thirty-minute drive in the traffic. Adrian, Lucy and Paula were of an age where they went to school by themselves, meeting friends along the way. Melody saw them briefly at breakfast and passed them on the landing and in the hall as we all got ready to leave. We left first, calling ‘goodbye’ and ‘see you later’ as we went.

      ‘What’s the time?’ Melody asked, bleary-eyed despite a wash, as we stepped outside into the cold morning air.

      ‘Eight o’clock. I can teach you the time if you like.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘So you’re not late.’

      Having never had to be anywhere regularly, punctuality must have been a bit of an alien concept to her. She shrugged and climbed into the back of the car, and I showed her how to fasten her seatbelt, closed her car door and got into the driver’s seat.

      ‘My mum knows the time,’ Melody said as I pulled away.

      ‘Good. Adults usually do.’

      ‘She’s still late, though, and misses things. It takes ages for her to wake and get up.’ Which was doubtless a result of her substance misuse.

      ‘What time we got to be in school?’ Melody asked after a moment.

      ‘School starts at eight-fifty, but it’s good to be there at least five minutes early. Today I’m hoping to arrive by eight-thirty so we can sort out your uniform.’

      ‘My mum went to the school a few times,’ she said as I drove.

      ‘Good.’

      ‘What time am I seeing her?’

      ‘Four o’clock until five-thirty,’ I said, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror. ‘That’s an hour and a half. School ends at three-twenty, so I’ll collect you and drive straight to the Family Centre.’ I’d checked the location of the school and knew where it was in relation to the Family Centre. ‘Morning playtime will be around eleven o’clock and you’ll have lunch between about twelve and one o’clock,’ I added, trying to give her a sense of the day. Time is a difficult concept for children, but by Melody’s age most children are able to read the time.

      ‘So am I having my dinner at school like I did when I was with my mum?’ she asked.

      ‘Yes, you have school dinners,’ I confirmed.

      ‘I like school dinners, they’re free.’

      While Melody had been living with her mother she was on benefits and would have been entitled to free school meals. Now she was in care I would pay for her school dinners and any other expenses; for example, her school uniform, outings, clubs, hobbies and so on – that’s what the fostering allowance is for.

      I arrived at the school just before 8.30 a.m. and parked in a side road.

      ‘Why СКАЧАТЬ