Chapter Thirty-Six
A New Year’s Wish
I telephoned the Guardian on Monday and left a message on her voicemail saying that I thought Mrs Jones could have misinterpreted the purpose of the parenting assessment and now believed Alice would be returned to her; could she explain when she saw her? Carole didn’t return my call, but I assumed she must have spoken to Mrs Jones and explained, for the following Saturday when we phoned Alice’s grandparents, Mrs Jones talked to Alice about the ‘wonderful Christmas’ she would have at ‘Cathy’s’. She didn’t ask to speak to me on this occasion, but she must have been very disappointed to have had her hopes raised and then dashed. I felt sorry for her, and yet again marvelled at her courage as she put aside her own feelings to be so brave and positive for Alice.
The week before Christmas was very busy. Apart from finishing the preparations for Christmas, friends dropped by, and Alice had extra contact at the family centre as it was Christmas. She saw her mother on Monday for an extended contact of two hours, when they exchanged gifts: Alice proudly presented her mother with a wrapped box of perfume we had chosen together and Leah handed me a large carrier bag of presents and asked me quietly if I could put them beside Alice’s bed so that she would wake up and find them on Christmas morning, which is what she would have done if Alice had been with her. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll put them with the “Father Christmas” presents from us.’
I knew that saying goodbye at this contact – the last before Christmas – was going to be particularly difficult, and when I returned to collect Alice, mother and daughter were already in tears. Eventually the contact supervisor gently lifted Alice from her mother’s arms and put her into mine, and I left the room to the sound of Alice crying and her mother calling ‘Merry Christmas’ through her tears.
‘Merry Christmas,’ I returned, although without Alice I doubted it would be very merry for Leah or Mr and Mrs Jones.
On Wednesday Alice had an extended two-hour contact with her grandparents and she once more proudly presented them with wrapped gifts. Mrs Jones told Alice they would put the presents away until Christmas, while Mr Jones said to me he had the ‘you know what’ (Alice’s bike) in the boot of the car and he would transfer it to my car at the end of contact. Mrs Jones had taken in some party food and a Christmas cracker each, and the three of them, plus the supervisor, had a little Christmas celebration with lemonade, sausage rolls and mince pies. Sadly this was the closest Alice’s grandparents would come to celebrating Christmas with Alice this year and yet again I marvelled at their courage to be able to go through with it.
At the end of contact Mr and Mrs Jones and the contact supervisor came with me into the car park, where I put Alice in her car seat and closed the car door so she couldn’t see. Mr Jones opened the boot of his car and I did the same with mine. He carried over the gaily wrapped bicycle, which was to be given to Alice on Christmas morning, and laid it carefully in the boot. ‘Hopefully we’ll see Alice ride it one day,’ Mrs Jones said sadly. ‘Have a good Christmas, Cathy, and thanks for everything.’
‘And you.’ We hugged, and as they waved goodbye to Alice I saw that Mrs Jones was finally in tears.
On Thursday, contact with Alice’s father remained at one hour; I assumed this was because they’d already seen Alice as usual for an hour on Tuesday. They didn’t mention Chris’s assault on Sharon – I hadn’t expected them to. Sharon bore no obvious bruises or marks; indeed they now seemed even more lovey-dovey, making a big show of holding hands and talking attentively to each other. I’d had to persuade Alice to buy her father and Sharon a present, and then persuade her further to wrap the gifts and take them into contact. Unlike when Alice had seen her grandparents and mother, Alice had been allowed to open her Christmas presents during contact with Chris and Sharon. When I collected her I immediately spotted the new doll’s pram which Alice was doing her best to ignore.
‘Don’t you like the present?’ Sharon said as we said goodbye and came away with me wheeling the pram. ‘I spent a long time choosing it.’
‘I think she’s just a bit overwhelmed,’ I said, excusing her. ‘You know how exciting the build-up to Christmas can be. It’s been quite a week.’ Sharon seemed to accept this, although I knew Alice’s coldness towards the gift was because it had come from Sharon, whom she still resented; had it come from her mother her reaction would have been very different.
On the Friday morning Jill and Kitty both popped in with a gift for Alice, and a Christmas card for us all. Jill also had a gift for me from the fostering agency, and we had a box of chocolates ready under the tree for each of them. Kitty was so touched and appreciative at being given a present that I guessed she didn’t often receive gifts or thanks – such is the nature of her job.
By Friday afternoon I had more or less finished the shopping, the presents were wrapped and there was no more contact until after Christmas. On Saturday Adrian and Paula went out with their father for the day and returned with their presents from him, which went under the tree. Unsurprisingly there wasn’t one for me.
That evening Lucy’s mother phoned, for the first time in three months, to wish Lucy a merry Christmas. Lucy hadn’t seen her mother for five months because her mother was now living ‘abroad’, although no one was quite sure where exactly. Lucy had never known her father and had never had a proper relationship with her mother. In effect we were the only real family she’d ever had. This was one of the reasons why she’d bonded with us so quickly, and occasionally called me Mum. Lucy was on the phone to her mother for only a few minutes as her mother was dashing off somewhere. Lucy seemed to take this rejection, as she had all the other rejections from her mother, in her stride; the only outward sign that she was hurting was her attitude to food and the cynical comments she sometimes made.
Christmas is always a difficult time for children in care. Everywhere you look there are pictures of adoring parents smiling at their perfect children to a backdrop of family harmony and domestic bliss. It is a stark reminder to children who are fostered that their own lives haven’t matched up to the ideal, and indeed they can’t even be with their families at Christmas. While foster carers do their best to give the children they look after a fantastic time at Christmas we are also painfully aware of the many conflicting emotions looked-after children must experience. More than once, in the build-up to Christmas, I’d found Alice in her bedroom quietly studying the photograph of her mother, taken the Christmas before when they had all been together.
‘I know Christmas will be a bit different this year,’ I said. ‘But I’ll make sure you have a lovely time with games, presents and lots to eat.’
‘Thanks, Cathy,’ Alice said wistfully. ‘But I’d
give up all that if could just have my mummy.’
Yet like all young children Alice got caught up in the joy of Christmas and was awake early on Christmas morning, very excited at finding Father Christmas had been and she was surrounded by presents. I took lots of photographs as she tore off the wrapping paper and her little face lit up; and she was temporarily able to forget her loss as the magic of Christmas took over. Her mother had given her some beautifully illustrated story books, a huge compendium of paints, crayons and puzzles, a Barbie doll all dressed up for an evening out and some very pretty clothes. Alice loved them all, and also the Father Christmas presents I’d bought – a dolls’ house with furniture and little doll people. Adrian, Lucy and Paula were awake early too and I went into their bedrooms as they delved into their sacks and unwrapped their presents. I took plenty of photographs of them too, much to the consternation of Lucy, who said I should have waited until she’d put on her make-up! Downstairs there were more presents under the tree, including the bike from Alice’s nana and grandpa which, despite being well wrapped, was easily identifiable. ‘A bike of my own!’ Alice gasped as soon as she saw it.
As we’d done in previous years, my parents, my brother and his wife and their three-year-old son came to us on Christmas Day; then on Boxing Day we continued the festivities at my brother’s house, where we had a chance to meet again with my sister-in-law’s family. There were thirty of us in all, including ten children, aged eighteen months to Adrian at fourteen. My sister-in-law produced a wonderful buffet and organized games where we won prizes off the Christmas tree. As I finally drove us home at 10.00 p.m. I was the only one in the car still awake.
The next day was Tuesday and contact resumed. Because Alice hadn’t seen her mother on Monday – Boxing Day – it was rescheduled for an hour on Tuesday morning; then she saw her father and Sharon for an hour in the afternoon. She wasn’t due to see her grandparents this Wednesday, and she saw her father and Sharon for an hour again, as usual, on Thursday. So what with contact, visiting friends and playing with Christmas gifts, the week between Christmas and New Year slipped by. Poor Adrian even had some homework to do!
On New Year’s Eve we were invited next door to my neighbour, Sue, as we had been in previous years. There were twenty of us with our children – all living in the road and knowing each other. It was a lovely atmosphere and we could have a drink and see in the New Year without the worry of finding a babysitter or driving home. As midnight approached everyone squeezed into the sitting room and, with the television on, we counted down to midnight. As midnight struck on Big Ben we cheered, kissed each other and sang a chorus of ‘Auld Lang Syne’. By 1.00 a.m. we were saying goodbye, wishing each other a happy New Year and steering very tired children home to their beds.
Alice was so tired she was nearly asleep on her feet, and Adrian carried her down Sue’s front path and then up ours. Alice didn’t wake as Adrian carried her upstairs and laid her on her bed. While he, Lucy and Paula got ready for bed I changed Alice into her pyjamas and tucked her in with Brian the Bear. She didn’t wake. Before I left I stood for a moment, gazing down at her little face – so similar to her mother’s and so peaceful in sleep. I wondered what the coming year would bring for her. I worried about Alice, more than I cared to admit. I feared for her future. If the wrong decision was made it could be disastrous, and I thought if I was to be granted one New Year wish it should be that everything turned out right for Alice, although how that could possibly happen I’d no idea.