Another Forgotten Child (22 page)

‘No,’ Aimee stated categorically, and I knew she wasn’t about to change her mind.

We continued on our way home, with Aimee talking about school and her friends and me fretting over the new disclosures. Was there nothing this poor child hadn’t been subjected to?

Once home I began dinner while Aimee watched some television. When Paula and Lucy arrived home Aimee told them she’d been to the dentist. Then, non-stop, she said that she’d got to have two fillings in her secondary teeth, but Mike wasn’t filling her first teeth, although they had cavities, because it would be too traumatic, and she had to look after her second teeth, as they had to last a lifetime. Clearly while Aimee had been lying in the dentist’s chair she’d been taking in everything that had been said and had remembered it, which was good. I’d noticed before that Aimee could pick up and retain information she’d heard very accurately, and I was using this to help her learn – repeating spellings and times table etc. out loud, rather than relying on the printed sheet. The downside of Aimee’s good auditory perception was that she could repeat back to me, word perfect, conversations I’d had, including girly telephone conversations with my friends. So that if I had to discuss Aimee’s case with one of the professionals involved I always made sure I was well out of earshot.

I knew there was no point in phoning Jill that evening about the sexual abuse Aimee had disclosed, for although there would be a member of staff in the Homefinders office in the evening, the social services offices would be closed. I also knew that Jill, the social services and child protection would ask me to put what Aimee had said in writing. So once Aimee was in bed watching a Walt Disney DVD, I typed up my log notes, using Aimee’s own words as much as possible. I detailed the abuse, that Aimee didn’t want to speak to Nicki Davies, and that she had seen her abuser while out shopping with me. I also included the outcome of Aimee’s dental check. Jill would read the email in the morning and then forward it to the social services. Foster carers who work for independent fostering agencies as I do usually funnel information through their support social worker at the agency, who passes it on to the child’s social worker.

That night when I went up to say goodnight to Aimee and switch off her television I asked her, as I always did, if she would like a kiss and hug goodnight.

‘Not yet,’ she replied with a cheeky grin. ‘But I’m getting close. So keep asking!’

I smiled, blew her a kiss and came out. But I was troubled. Only a few hours previously Aimee had remembered a dreadful incident of sexual abuse, yet she’d been able to continue as normal, apparently unperturbed, while the image of what she’d told me had tormented me all evening. Children who have been badly abused often compartmentalize their memories, hiving off the bad thoughts and ‘forgetting’ them until something happens – like the dentist putting his finger into Aimee’s mouth – when they get a flashback. The fact that she was doing this made me wonder about the true extent of her abuse while she’d been living at home. Her dreadful neglect had been well documented but what else was there? What other memories lay hidden in Aimee’s subconscious, waiting to resurface? Which brought me back to the question on everyone’s lips: why had she been left at home for so long? The Guardian ad Litem was visiting on Friday and I hoped she would have the answer. The Guardian is appointed by the court to represent the child and give an overview of what is in the child’s best interest. He or she has access to all the files.

It was only when I was climbing into bed that night that I realized we hadn’t phoned Aimee’s mother as we were supposed to. I’d been so preoccupied with Aimee’s disclosures about sexual abuse, the state of her teeth and getting dinner on the table that I’d completely forgotten. Aimee hadn’t remembered either. It was nearly eleven o’clock, so far too late to do anything about it now. All I could do was admit my oversight and apologize the following day, but I knew this would spark another complaint from Susan and this one would be justified. I could have kicked myself and I made a mental note that tomorrow I would write ‘phone Susan’ in my diary on every Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday until the end of the year so I didn’t forget again.

The following morning Aimee had a medical scheduled for 9.30, and I’d told the school I’d take her in afterwards. All children coming into care in England have a medical, in addition to any emergency treatment they might need. I’d already explained to Aimee why she was having a medical – to make sure she was fit and healthy – and what to expect.

‘Don’t really need a medical,’ Aimee now said, finishing her breakfast. ‘I’m fit ’n’ healthy, living here with you. Wasn’t fit ’n’ healthy at me mum’s, though.’

I smiled. ‘That’s because I give you fresh fruit and vegetables,’ I said, seizing the opportunity to reinforce the importance of a good diet. ‘Fresh fruit and vegetables contain vitamins, which help keep you fit and healthy.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Aimee said, sighing. ‘You told me already. Pity they don’t taste like sweets.’

We left the house at nine o’clock for Aimee’s medical and while I was driving to the clinic my mobile rang. I left it to go through to voicemail as I drove and then, once parked at the clinic, I listened to the message. It was from Jill, confirming she’d received the email I’d sent the night before, and that she’d forwarded it to Beth, Aimee’s temporary social worker. Jill asked if I thought Aimee would change her mind about being interviewed by DC Nicki Davies, as clearly her evidence would be crucial to any prosecution. She finished by saying she’d phone me later. I doubted Aimee would change her mind but now wasn’t the time to ask her. Since I’d parked the car at the front of the clinic Aimee had become very agitated.

‘Are you all right, love?’ I asked, turning in my seat before getting out of the car.

‘No I ain’t,’ Aimee said. ‘I’ve been to this clinic before, with me mum.’

‘It’s quite possible. Children come to this clinic for all sorts of reasons: to have their eyesight tested, their hearing tested, for vaccinations and medicals.’

‘I don’t want to go in,’ she said. ‘They called the police last time.’

‘Why?’ I asked, now fully turned in my seat to look at Aimee.

‘The doctor wanted me to take my clothes off and Mum said no. When the doctor said she couldn’t examine me unless I did, Mum got angry and pushed her.’

‘I’m not surprised the police were called,’ I said. ‘It was wrong of your mother to push the doctor. Of course the doctor had to examine you. Just as he or she will today. Why didn’t your mother want the doctor to examine you?’ I asked.

‘Because I had lots of bruises and Mum said they would think she did it.’

‘And did she?’

‘No!’ Aimee said, annoyed. ‘My mum doesn’t hit me. It was that other geezer.’

‘Who? Do you know his name?’

‘No,’ Aimee said too quickly, breaking eye contact. So I guessed she did know but wasn’t going to tell me.

‘Well, if you remember let me know his name,’ I said.

‘Maybe,’ she said with a shrug. And I had a nasty feeling that this abuser, just like Craig and the unnamed paedophile, would continue to walk free to abuse again for a long time.

Chapter Nineteen

Hatchet

‘Sit down, Mrs Glass,’ Dr Patel said as we entered her surgery. ‘Aimee, there’s a toy box for you to play with over there.’ Welcoming but forthright in her manner, Dr Patel was, I guessed, in her late thirties. Fortunately she wasn’t the same paediatrician Susan had pushed.

‘I don’t have any of Aimee’s medical records,’ Dr Patel declared as I sat down and she opened the file on her desk. ‘The social services have sent me the form I have to complete for the medical, together with a stamped addressed envelope, which was generous, but that’s all. Do you know where her medical records are?’

‘I assume they must be with her last GP,’ I said (referring to her general practitioner or doctor), silently annoyed but not surprised by this oversight. More often than not when I took a foster child for a medical, the paediatrician, who didn’t know the child, had not been sent the child’s medical records and therefore had no idea of the child’s medical history. It was a negligent and unnecessary oversight on the part of the social services, which I knew from experience would result in a half-complete medical assessment.

Dr Patel read out Aimee’s full name and date of birth and then asked for my address, which hadn’t been included on the form. I gave her this, together with my telephone number.

‘So Aimee is eight,’ Dr Patel confirmed.

‘Yes.’

‘Does she have any siblings?’

‘Five older half-siblings,’ I said.

‘Do you know their ages?’

‘Not exactly. They are all in their late teens and twenties.’

‘Do they live at home with the parents?’

‘They were all taken into care, although the older ones will probably be living independently by now.’ Aimee glanced up from the toy box. I hated talking about a child in front of them, as it’s disrespectful, but as Dr Patel didn’t have any of Aimee’s history and the form she was filling in requested this information there was no alternative.

‘Does Aimee see any of her half-siblings?’ Dr Patel now asked as she wrote.

‘No.’

‘Do you know why?’

‘No.’

‘And her father? Where is he?’

‘In prison,’ I mouthed quietly under my breath so Aimee couldn’t hear.

Dr Patel nodded. ‘I’ll write “absent”,’ she said, filling in the information that should have already been made available to her. ‘Are the siblings healthy?’ she asked.

‘As far as I know, but I don’t know really.’

‘Was Aimee’s birth normal?’ she said, reading the next question on the form.

‘As far as I know, but I don’t know really.’

‘Are there any congenital abnormalities in the family that you know of?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘Are Aimee’s grandparents still alive?’

‘I don’t know. They haven’t been mentioned, so maybe they’re not.’

Dr Patel gave a small sigh and continued, ‘Do you know if Aimee’s vaccinations are up to date?’

‘I don’t know. That will be on her medical record, won’t it?’

‘It should be.’ Dr Patel made a note and then asked: ‘What’s the social services’ care plan for Aimee? Do you know?’

I saw Aimee look over. ‘Yes, I know but I can’t really discuss it now,’ I said pointedly. ‘The social services will be able to advise you.’

‘I understand. But Aimee is happy with you?’

‘I think so. She has had to make a lot of adjustments since coming into care. But yes, I think she’s happy. Isn’t that right, Aimee?’ I added, including her in the conversation.

Aimee nodded. ‘But I’m not happy when I have to go to bed at night instead of watching television,’ she grumbled good-humouredly.

Dr Patel smiled. ‘Does Aimee sleep well?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I like my bed,’ Aimee put in.

‘Is she dry at night?’ Dr Patel continued.

‘Yes, although before coming into care she wasn’t.’

‘She was probably very anxious about what was going on at home. Why was she brought into care?’

‘Severe neglect.’

‘And abuse? Sexual abuse?’ Dr Patel asked quietly.

I nodded.

‘Poor child,’ she said quietly, and made a note. Then: ‘Does Aimee eat well?’

‘Yes, but before coming into care she was on a very poor diet with far too many sweet things. She seems almost to be addicted to sugar and I’m limiting the amount of sugary food she eats. I’m also concerned that she might be vitamin or mineral deficient. She never ate any fruit or veg.’

‘I do now!’ Aimee called from across the room where she was playing.

‘Good girl,’ Dr Patel said. Then to me: ‘I’ll check for any sign of vitamin deficiency when I examine her. But as long as she’s eating a good diet now, her body should recover quickly.’

‘I like sweets!’ Aimee added.

‘They’re bad for you!’ Dr Patel exclaimed, more forcefully than was necessary. I saw Aimee scowl at her and without Dr Patel seeing she stuck out her tongue. I frowned a warning at her.

‘Has Aimee ever been tested for HIV?’ Dr Patel suddenly asked, looking up from the form and directly at me. ‘Both parents are intravenous drug users, so it would be sensible to know.’

I was taken aback. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘It’s never been mentioned by the social services. Would Aimee have been tested for HIV at birth? She was on the child protection register.’

‘The mother would have been offered the HIV test. In this country all pregnant women are, but tests on babies are inconclusive because of the mother’s antibodies. A child has to be tested at about eighteen months before the results are conclusive.’

‘I’ve no idea if the test was done or not,’ I said.

‘Ask the social worker. Although the HIV virus is only transmitted in bodily fluids and is therefore relatively difficult to catch, you should know for your own safety and that of your family.’

‘We practise safer caring,’ I said, and thought back over the weeks Aimee had been with us. Had I always been careful, for example wearing disposable gloves when I’d treated her cut knee when she’d fallen over? I thought I had but I couldn’t be completely sure.

‘Her parents are high risk,’ Dr Patel said. ‘So if a test has been done you should be told the result, not only for your own safety but for the good of the child. If she is HIV positive then her health can be monitored and with modern medication the outcome is usually very good.’

‘I’ll pass on what you’ve said to the social worker,’ I said. ‘Foster carers are only told information about the children they foster on a “need to know” basis. Often the social services take the view that the foster carer doesn’t need to know the result of an HIV test because if the carer is practising safer caring – as they should be – then they are not at risk.’

Dr Patel raised her eyebrows. ‘If I was in your position, I’d want to know,’ she said bluntly, before moving on to the next question on the form. ‘Do you have any concerns about Aimee’s eyesight or hearing?’

‘No,’ I said. Dr Patel made a note.

Once she’d worked through the remaining questions on the form Dr Patel stood and said to Aimee: ‘Now it’s your turn, Aimee, while Cathy has a rest. Come over here, good girl.’