Four Waifs on Our Doorstep (36 page)

‘How do you mean?’ This sounded a bit alarming.

‘Well . . .’ George continued, ‘the defence have apparently got hold of all the children’s school records, so they must have seen their chance with Stacey.’

‘So now,’ explained Lawrence, ‘they have applied for the case to be heard in open court, with a longer duration allocated for the trial. And their request was
granted.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that each of the children will be interviewed in public, in the courtroom itself, and the defence intend to cross-examine the children much more closely, for up to three days
each.’

‘Oh no!’

‘And the other impact of that,’ continued Lawrence, ‘is that if Stacey is shown to be lying about even one little detail of her evidence – they will be able to prove that
she was an inveterate liar throughout her schooling – so everything she says might be lies. I think we can say goodbye to the huge compensation the judge might have awarded them.’

I was angry now, at the thought that they would crucify Stacey. ‘So, what do you suggest?’

‘I think it would be better to settle out of court, Trisha. But you’ll need to discuss that with all four of them.’

I drove back fuming, mulling it all over. How could they do this? Hadn’t the children had enough to cope with already in their short lives, without having to expose every
nasty little detail for public consumption? I was furious. They had stitched up my kids all over again.

Stacey was the one who had said she was looking forward to being believed, and now that didn’t seem likely. They would destroy her, and I didn’t think I could have stood it, watching
them tear her apart. How could I let her be exposed to that? It could destroy her. It would destroy them all.

We had another family meeting and they were all appalled.

‘I couldn’t face it,’ said Stacey. ‘It makes me tremble just to think about it. It would be terrible. I would fall apart.’

They all agreed they could not go through with this public cross-examination about the intimate details of all the abuse they had suffered.

‘So, the only other thing you can do,’ I explained to them, ‘is to instruct Lawrence to negotiate an out-of-court settlement. It may not be as much money, but it will be a lot
less painful for you all.’

‘Yes, let’s do that,’ said Jamie, and they all nodded their agreement, relieved that they could avoid the public ordeal.

‘You’ve made the right decision,’ I told them. ‘Now we’ll just have to wait and see what compensation they offer you for settling out of court.’

We didn’t have long to wait. Lawrence rang.

‘They’re offering £2,000 for Sam, £4,000 for Carrie, £6,500 for Stacey and £7,000 for Jamie,’ he said.

‘What?’ I was shocked and furious. ‘These offers are derisory, insulting. Is that really all they think my kids are worth?’

‘It is very low,’ Lawrence agreed.

As I expected, when I told the four of them what they’d been offered, they were disgusted and insulted by the paltry amounts.

‘Is that supposed to make up for everything those evil paedophiles did to us?’ exclaimed Stacey. ‘The abuses that have blighted our lives.’

A few days later Lawrence rang with new offers, hardly any better than the first lot. Again the kids felt humiliated, and they refused.

‘Why did they offer me more than Stacey?’ asked Jamie in a rage. ‘She should get more than any of us – she was the one who suffered the most.’

The two younger ones agreed, so they asked Lawrence to get the highest amount he could for Stacey.

This time, we had to wait two weeks for them to reach a decision. OK, so all the amounts had gone up a bit further again, and they had at least bumped Stacey’s up higher than the rest. But
it still wasn’t great. Nowhere near what other comparable cases had been.

‘Can’t we go back to them again?’ I asked Lawrence.

‘No, I don’t think it would be any good. If we push them any further they said they would insist on going ahead with the court case and take their chances.’

‘That’s like blackmail.’

‘They say that’s the highest they can possibly go, so I suppose the trial would be the only alternative, unless you want to back out altogether.’

‘So Social Services cheated my kids out of their childhoods, and now they want to cheat them again!’

‘But you have won, Trisha. The kids have won. Settling out of court is like an admission of guilt.’

‘It’s a hollow victory.’

So the children had no choice. They agreed to settle on the third offers and we all went to the judges’ chambers on the final day. We were in one big room, with Lawrence
and George, the barrister, and the other side were in another room down the corridor. There was a bit of toing and froing between the lawyers to finalise the settlement agreement.

Then the barrister checked one final time with my four. ‘Are you happy to accept these amounts of compensation?’

‘Yes,’ they all said.

‘Right, can you each sign this page, next to your names?’

The kids all trooped across to the desk with serious expressions and took turns to sign.

Then I noticed the surprise in the barrister’s face as he pointed something out to Lawrence on the contract. Lawrence picked it up and read it, leafing through the pages before and after
as well. They whispered a few words between them, then came over to us, all smiles.

‘What’s happened?’ I asked.

‘They’ve made a fundamental cock-up,’ said Lawrence.

What? I thought, oh no, don’t tell me we’ve got to go through all this again. But then I saw they were still smiling.

‘Well, you won’t believe this, Trisha,’ he continued, ‘but they have forgotten to put in a gagging clause.’

‘And they can’t bring it in now,’ added George. ‘It’s too late.’

‘What do you mean, gagging clause?’

‘Whenever there is an out-of-court settlement,’ explained Lawrence, ‘the agreement includes some wording that prohibits any of the signatories from revealing the details of the
settlement to anybody, which basically means, no publicity. That’s what we call a gagging clause.’

‘But there’s no gagging clause here,’ explained George, holding up the agreement. ‘Nothing at all. I’ve checked it all through.’

‘So what does that mean?’ I asked, warily.

They looked at each other then grinned back at us.

‘It means you are all free to tell the world that the local authority have agreed an out-of-court settlement with you in your case of negligence against them. In other words, you won, and
you can tell whoever you like.’

‘You could call the newspapers,’ said George. ‘They’d love that story.’

‘Or,’ suggested Lawrence with a triumphant flourish, ‘you could even write a book about it if you want!’

‘Who, me?’ I laughed. ‘I’m dyslexic!’

But when I thought about it later on, that wasn’t such a bad idea.

It took a while for the kids’ money to come through, and they each opened a savings account. It would have bought them the therapy they still so badly needed, but they
were all grown up by now, so it was their choice.

The first one to spend any of it was Stacey.

‘I want to pay you back for everything I stole from you,’ she said to me.

‘It’s your money, Stace. I’m not forcing you to pay me back anything.’

‘I know. But I want to, and that’s that.’ She was adamant.

‘Well, only what we are sure about,’ I said. ‘Only pay back what we have proof of. Like you admitted to stealing those two rings, but you have told me you don’t remember
taking any other jewellery, so that other ring that disappeared could have been stolen or lost by someone else.’

‘I’ll pay you back for that one as well.’

‘Thank you for the offer, but no. I couldn’t stand up in court and say you stole it.’

But she was so insistent that I had to accept it in the end. I knew there were another two rings that disappeared at some time, but I didn’t even mention them in case she tried to pay for
those too.

I think Stacey paying me back like that, as soon as her money came, went a long way with Jane and Laura. They had been the ones with the least faith in her before things started to improve
between them. Now, they felt I’d been properly compensated; they could see that she had kept her word. It was the commitment they wanted to see. We were all relieved to have that.

Slowly, slowly, Stacey was coming back to us . . . part of the family again.

It’s like she said to me one day recently, when it was just the two of us.

‘I’m really, really lucky, Mum. I wouldn’t have been saying this to you four years ago. I couldn’t wait to get out. But I felt everyone was against me then, being a
teenager. Now I feel really lucky, because of what I’ve experienced in the last four years. I’m so grateful that you didn’t give up, because I thought at one point that you
actually, finally did. And I thought crap. That was my initial reaction. But now I’m glad, because if I hadn’t been put into care with you, I’d have most likely been on the
streets, stealing food. I probably would have got pregnant young, children . . . everything. Because I wouldn’t have had all that background – all that safety around me that you and Dad
gave me, so I would have been left to my own devices, and we all know what I’m like when I’m left to my own devices!’

We both laughed.

‘I didn’t have the best start in life. I probably had one of the worst. But I’ve been given an olive branch. And I didn’t take that olive branch. Well . . . yes I did, I
took it with four hands and four feet, but I took it and overused it, then chucked it, right?’

I nodded. She certainly did chuck everything away.

‘But now I’ve been given this other olive branch and I just feel like, I just sit there and think “Why have I been given another olive branch?” I’d never let it go
now.’

‘Good job, Stace,’ I said, putting my hand on hers.

‘Just think, Mum,’ she said. ‘I’ll be here for Christmas this year.’

‘I haven’t invited you.’

Her face fell. ‘Oh, sorry . . .’

‘Of course you’ll be here,’ I laughed, and gave her hand a squeeze.

‘Oh, Mum!’ she giggled.

Has Stacey been forgiven? Yeah. Everyone has forgiven her now, and that makes me feel full of hope for them all.

One Saturday morning, Jamie popped in with little Jordan, and Stacey had come over to see Laura, who was staying with us that weekend. Carrie made us all cups of coffee and Sam
joined us for an impromptu chat. It was maybe the first time that there was no bad feeling or wariness between any of them. Laura went off with her boyfriend and it was just us. Mike, me and our
four waifs grown up.

‘It’s great to be a proper family again, the six of us,’ I said with a huge smile.

‘Yes,’ said Stacey. ‘Do you remember, Mum? You used to say all the time when we were young: “Friends come and go, family stay the rest of your life.” As I grew up,
friends were the most important thing to me. I had to be liked. I had to fit in. Then as I started to grow up, I came to realise. Friends can be with you only for a short time, but family will
always be there.’

‘I agree,’ said Jamie. ‘I did the same as you, but now I’m a dad myself, I really appreciate being part of the family again. Looking after all of you when we were little
has helped me to be a good dad to Jordan.’

‘You all ought to be proud of how far you’ve come,’ I said. ‘Even just over the past three or four years. It’s massive.’

‘I don’t know where all those years went,’ said Mike. ‘Since that night when you arrived on our doorstep. It’s all a blur to me!’

We all laughed. ‘It was a very eventful blur,’ I said. ‘That’s for sure. I wish I’d written it all down!’

‘Do you remember what Lawrence said?’ asked Sam. ‘About writing a book?’

‘Yes, I’ve been thinking about that quite a lot.’ I looked around at them all. ‘Do you think I should?’

They all agreed. Mike nodded too.

‘Well,’ I continued, ‘at first, when I was so angry about your low compensation amounts, compared with the scars Social Services had left you all with, I thought yes, I’d
do it to spite them. But that’s not a good enough reason. What I’m most sorry for was that you didn’t get your day in court and the knowledge that the judge had listened to you.
Do you remember, Stacey? You said you wanted to be believed.’

‘Yes. I always wanted to be believed, and mostly people were quite right not to believe me. I can see that now. But that was one time when I should have been believed.’

‘Well, I’m hoping people who read the book will be disgusted that the Social Services could do this,’ said Jamie. ‘And let down children so badly. They let us all
down.’

‘I agree,’ nodded Carrie.

‘I think it should have our adoption in it,’ said Stacey. ‘I love the fact that I’ve been adopted. I love it. I love it! I often sit and think “Thank God. I was
lucky.” I would never change it at all.’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Jamie. ‘That was the best thing.’

‘Well . . .’ I smiled at the synergy of what they’d said with what I was thinking. ‘If I do this book, and I do want to do it, I’m hoping just one foster carer,
just one adopter, one social worker, perhaps one social-work manager, one psychiatrist, one teacher, one whatever, will pick it up and read it and sit and think. But most of all, I would like a
child who’s been in the care system, perhaps who’s just been kicked out at sixteen, to pick up our book and read it, and be inspired by how you’ve turned your lives around. I
would like it to help them. And I would like somebody who perhaps isn’t sure about adoption to think “Yes, I’m going to adopt.” That alone would be a reason for writing this
book.’

‘That’s great, Mum,’ said Stacey. ‘You’re inspirational. That’s what your book should be.’

‘Yes, I want people who read this book to know that even when things are as black as black, there is usually a rainbow somewhere. And at times when you think things are so dire that
there’s no way out, just hang in there and that rainbow will appear.’

After the family had all dispersed, Mike and I were sitting, just the two of us, reminiscing.

‘Would you do it all again?’ I said.