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

‘Hello,’ Edith said, business-like and sombre. ‘I’ll have to take a statement from you, but I’m aware the children are here. Can they play in another room?’

‘Statement?’ I asked, confused.

‘Yes, in respect of the allegations.’

‘Oh. That’s all changed. Tess has just phoned. The children can stay with me for now.’ I then told her what Tess had said, staying in the hall so that Molly and Kit wouldn’t hear.

Edith’s face went through a spectrum of emotions: doubt, shock, horror and back to doubt. ‘I’ll need to speak to Tess to confirm all of this,’ she said, and took her mobile phone from her jacket pocket.

‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ I returned down the hall to the living room.

I supposed it was reasonable that Edith would want to check what I’d told her, although the social services had been quick enough to believe Aneta when she’d made the allegations against me.

Molly and Kit were still playing nicely. ‘Edith is in the hall using her phone,’ I said. ‘You two stay here and I’ll make you a drink and a snack.’ They usually had one about now.

From the kitchen I could hear Edith on her phone. She’d got through to Tess and was mainly listening, interjecting with the occasional ‘Oh’, ‘I see’ and ‘Really?’

I cut up some cheese into little squares, halved some grapes, sliced a banana and arranged it in bowls for the children’s snack. I poured their drinks – Kit’s into his trainer cup and Molly’s into a plastic beaker – and then set them ready on the table. I called Kit and Molly in and made myself a cup of coffee.

Edith finished on the phone. ‘We’re in here!’ I called.

‘You were right,’ she said, coming into our kitchen-diner.

I looked pointedly in the direction of the children, reminding her not to let anything slip in front of them. ‘Do you want a coffee?’ I offered.

‘Yes, please.’

I made her a coffee and then, leaving Kit and Molly at the table eating their snacks, Edith and I went into the hall, where I could keep an eye on the children but they couldn’t easily hear us.

‘Tess confirmed that the allegations against you were unfounded,’ Edith said. ‘I don’t think I need to take a statement from you, but I’ll check with my manager when I get back to the office.’

I nodded. Whether Edith had to take a statement or not was the last thing on my mind. ‘Have you ever come across FDIA before?’ I asked, still reeling from the shock of it.

‘Yes. When I worked in child protection – before I became a supervising social worker – we had something similar. A mother made her child ill by crushing up her antidepressant tablets and putting them into the child’s food. The child nearly died.’

‘That’s awful,’ I said, horrified.

‘I believe there are about two hundred cases of FDIA or Munchausen syndrome by proxy a year in this country alone, as well as more cases of just Munchausen’s syndrome, when the person pretends they are ill or makes themselves ill. And that’s only the ones that are detected. You remember the case of Nurse Beverley Allitt? She was convicted of murdering infants in the hospital where she worked as a trainee nurse.’

‘Yes, it was horrendous,’ I said. Most people would remember the case. It had been widely reported in the news and had shocked the whole country.

‘She was diagnosed with suffering from Munchausen syndrome by proxy – or FDIA as it’s now called,’ Edith said.

I shuddered. Dear little Molly and Kit could have easily died.

‘Tess has suspended contact,’ I said. ‘She’s asked me to tell the children, but not the reason. She is going to see them next week. It’s difficult to know what to say to them, they’re so young.’

‘Do you want to do it while I’m here?’

‘Yes, we may as well.’

We returned to the kitchen-diner where Molly and Kit were finishing their snacks and drinks. ‘You are doing well,’ I said, sitting at the table and setting down my mug of coffee. Edith sat next to me, opposite the children. There was no easy way to tell them that they wouldn’t be seeing their parents. ‘Your social worker, Tess, telephoned,’ I began. ‘She’s decided it is best for now if we don’t go to the Family Centre.’

‘Why?’ Molly asked.

‘Because Tess needs to sort out some things to make sure you are safe. She has told your mummy and daddy, so they won’t be going to the Family Centre either.’ I didn’t expect Kit to understand, but clearly Molly would.

‘What things?’ she said.

Edith replied. ‘Sometimes social workers have to make difficult decisions. Your social worker has decided that it’s better for you and Kit if you don’t go to the Family Centre to see your parents for a while.’

‘When do we see them?’ Molly asked.

‘We’re not sure yet,’ Edith said.

‘Tess will tell us more next week,’ I added.

Molly seemed to accept this, although I knew she was bound to return to the matter later with more questions. I would answer them as best I could without telling her the real reason contact had been suspended. Having finished eating, Kit began agitating to be out of his chair so I undid his harness and helped him down. We all went into the living room where the children played, while Edith continued with the standard part of her supervisory visit, much as she usually did. She asked how the children were generally, if there’d been any changes in my household – a standard question at each visit – and made some notes. She advised me on further training, checked my log notes and then looked around the house. Before leaving, she set the date for her next supervisory visit but said she would be in touch after she’d spoken to her manager.

Once she’d gone, I felt in dire need of a change of scenery and told the children that as there was no contact we would go out. It was raining, so the park wasn’t an option.

‘Can we go to the ball pond?’ Molly asked.

‘Where we went yesterday?’ I said.

‘Yes.’

‘OK.’

She was delighted and went to find her shoes. Kit followed her. Going to the soft-play centre would help take their minds off not seeing their parents and we could have some lunch there too. While the children tried to put on their shoes, I sent a WhatsApp message to the Glass group: Molly and Kit staying for the foreseeable future. Will explain when I see you. Love Mum xxx.

Chapter Twenty-One

No Contact (#u15af0a34-c76a-5e15-9c24-91c0bb171459)

‘So the witch tried to poison me!’ Lucy exclaimed, shocked.

‘It wasn’t intended for you,’ I said. ‘But yes, I’m certain drinking Molly and Kit’s juice is what made you sick.’

I was telling my family about Aneta making the children ill and FDIA as they came home, always making sure that Molly and Kit couldn’t hear. Paula had visibly paled when I’d told her. Now Lucy was upset and angry.

‘Evil or what! I might have died!’ Lucy cried dramatically.

‘I doubt it from one dose, but lots of the poison in small children could have killed them.’

‘It’s shocking. We covered Munchausen syndrome briefly in my nursery training, but I don’t think there’s ever been a case at the nursery, certainly not while I’ve been there.’

‘Lucy, did you notice if the juice tasted odd when you drank it?’ I asked.