Where Has Mummy Gone?: Part 2 of 3: A young girl and a mother who no longer knows her

‘No, we want her settled first, and a social worker from the adult safeguarding team will visit her.’

‘But Melody will be seeing her mother later this week, won’t she? If I could give her a definite day, it might help lessen her disappointment.’

My attitude and persistence must have irritated Neave, and doubtless she was very busy on a Monday morning, for she said tersely, ‘Mrs Glass, if I could give you confirmed arrangements I would, but I can’t yet. So if you could tell Melody her mother is being moved to a care home and she’ll see her as soon as possible, I’d be very grateful.’ With a rather curt thank you and goodbye she ended the call and hung up.

‘Damn and blast,’ I cursed as I returned the handset to its cradle. Not because I’d irritated Neave, but because Melody wouldn’t be seeing her mother. While I appreciated that arrangements in fostering can and do change, this wasn’t right. Everyone at the review had agreed Melody should be seeing her mother, yet now it had been postponed indefinitely. I realized it wasn’t practical for Melody to see her mother today, but I didn’t understand why Neave couldn’t have given me a firm day, which I felt would make telling Melody that bit easier. Your mummy is moving today to a care home, so we’ll see her on Wednesday – or Thursday or Friday, or whichever day it was – sounded less harsh than, We can’t visit your mummy today, as she is moving to the care home. Neave will tell us when we can see her. Children in care have to deal with so many disappointments, especially in respect of their parents, and it’s often left to the foster carer to mop up the mess.

I stood in the kitchen, staring into space, feeling Melody’s disappointment. I considered telephoning Jill, but she wouldn’t be able to offer much beyond commiseration. I then thought about the Guardian, Nina, who’d been advocating the resumption of contact. Going into the front room, I took my fostering folder from the drawer and found Nina’s office phone number. As I dialled I hoped Neave wouldn’t think I was going behind her back or over her head, then I thought, sod it, I don’t care. Melody needs to see her mother.

Nina was out of the office but was expected back in an hour or so, so I left a message with her colleague, giving my details and asking her to call me as soon as she could. She returned my call an hour later and I explained that contact had been arranged for today and how excited Melody had been over the weekend, but that Neave had just telephoned to say Amanda was being transferred to a care home and that she didn’t know when Melody could see her mother. ‘It’s nearly a month since she saw her and this is going to affect her badly.’

‘I agree,’ Nina said. Then it went quiet. ‘My role is really to report to the judge at the final court hearing. I don’t usually become involved in social worker practice.’ Which I knew. ‘But let me see what I can do. Clearly it’s in Melody’s best interests to see her mother.’

‘Thank you.’

Later that afternoon, shortly before I was about to leave for school, the phone rang again and it was Nina. ‘I’ve spoken to Neave and she’s suggested you take Melody to see her mother at the care home either Friday after school or Saturday afternoon. Visiting is any time between one-thirty and seven-thirty. If it goes all right then once a week, but she’ll speak to you next week.’

‘Thank you so much,’ I said.

‘Do you have the address of the care home?’

‘No.’ I reached for the paper and pen I kept by the phone and wrote the address. It was an hour’s drive away. ‘So the care home isn’t local?’

‘No. It was the nearest that had a free bed and could offer the type of care that Amanda needs. That’s why Neave has suggested Friday or Saturday – when Melody doesn’t have to be up for school in the morning if you’re late back.’

‘OK, thank you. I’ll tell her.’

As I drove to collect Melody from school that afternoon I considered which day would be best to take her to see her mother – Friday, at the end of the week when she might be tired, or Saturday afternoon, which would limit us going out on any day trips. I decided to try Friday and see how it went. If Melody was too tired, I would switch it to Saturday the following week. Neave had said Friday or Saturday and left it for me to decide. I was pleased that I could now give Melody a definite day, although of course she was coming out of school expecting to see her mother that afternoon.

I waited in my usual place in the playground and when Melody’s class came out she was near the front, smiling broadly and with Miss May at her side. Miss May also thought we would be going straight to the hospital to see Amanda so didn’t come over to talk, but just gave a little wave. Melody ran to my side full of joy and anticipation. I steeled myself for what I had to say.

‘Look, love,’ I said, taking her hand. ‘There has been a slight change of plan.’

‘I’m not seeing my mother, am I?’ she cried, snatching her hand away.

‘Yes, you are, but not this afternoon.’

‘That’s not fair!’ she shouted, and stamped her foot. Others turned to look.

‘Come on, I’ll explain as we walk to the car.’ I didn’t want a scene in the playground. With her face set like thunder, Melody reluctantly fell into step beside me.

‘What?’ she demanded. I saw her old anger return and who could blame her?

‘You remember Neave said that they were looking for a nice care home for your mummy?’ I began steadily. ‘Well, they’ve found it and she’s moving there this afternoon. That’s why we can’t see her today, but we are going to see her on Friday after school.’

‘But Friday is ages!’ she moaned.

‘It’s not ages,’ I said. ‘It’s four sleeps, which isn’t long at all.’

She thought about this for a moment. ‘But I wanted to see her today.’

‘I know, love, but it can’t be helped, and Friday isn’t so long.’

‘What about all the food I got ready to take and your mum’s cakes?’

‘The biscuits will be fine and you can choose some more fruit. But I think we should eat those cakes and then you and me can make some more.’

Most children like to make cakes and Melody was no exception. ‘All right,’ she said begrudgingly, but her anger was receding.

‘Excellent,’ I said and opened her car door. ‘I’ve just had another good idea.’