I first made a coffee, to wake myself up, and, having woken up, felt immediately frantic, grasping for any explanation I could conjure that wasn’t immediately, totally damning. Which was hard, because there wasn’t one, was there? But maybe, just maybe, Seth had woken up early, and Jenna, not wanting to disturb the whole household, had decided to take them all out for a walk. Which, I reminded myself, she was not allowed to do. But if she had … oh, please let it just be that.
Which thought had me thinking less edifying thoughts. Yes, Jenna might be very streetwise, but as a family they were vulnerable. Both in social service speak and in every way possible. So, I should ring her. Before doing anything else, I should ring her. So, I did so. And though it rang – which was at least a small comfort to hang onto – that was all it did – rang and rang and rang and rang.
I should text then, I decided, so I hammered one out. Hi Jen, love. Where are you? Did you go out for a walk?
Then I waited for a response, refreshing my phone screen repeatedly. The message had been read. I could see that immediately. But there was no bubble to indicate she was typing a reply.
I tried again. Jen? Please text back, love. At least put my mind at rest. You’re not in trouble, not at all. I’m just worried, babes. xxx
Again I waited. Again the message was read but ignored. Real panic began to set in then. Because, clearly, this was no early morning stroll. As if it ever would have been, you stupid woman, I thought wretchedly. She had taken off. She must have. Wasn’t the evidence overwhelming? So might she have decided to take her chances with her parents, after all? I just couldn’t see it – but then, what did I know? And she’d surely know it would be our first port of call.
Or her flat, perhaps. Might she have taken them there? Might she have got it into her head that she needed some space? But again, if she went there, she would easily be found there. The authority was even paying her rent for her.
So where had she gone? And what did she hope to achieve? Did she really think she could just disappear? Perhaps yes – she’d been invisible to social services as a teenager in a shed, for goodness’ sake. So she was well used to falling through cracks. Perhaps she’d simply decided to risk it, and hope that she could do so again, rather than run the risk that her social worker did hold all the cards. I could have cheerfully throttled Sam Burdett right then.
I went from room to room, looking for clues to where she might be, but only finding evidence that she had left. Empty drawers in Seth’s bedroom, missing toothbrushes in the bathroom, half the baby paraphernalia in the kitchen absent without leave, no phone charger, no hair straighteners, no formula, no sling … By no means everything, but by no means nothing, either. There was nothing for it, it seemed, but to face the grim reality. She’d planned all this, hadn’t she? That was why she’d wanted to keep Seth downstairs with her last night. So she could creep around, gathering things up, knowing he was safely downstairs. That, with him down there, she’d run much less risk of us being woken up.
And I’d slept like the bloody dead. Played right into her hands.
There was nothing else for it. There were calls that needed making. Damning calls that needed making. And I was just about to make them – I had the numbers in my contacts – when a message pinged in.
It was Jenna.
I’m sorry, Casey. I had to leave. I don’t think I have a choice. Do what you have to, it’s too late now. Thanks for everything. I mean it. x
Jesus Christ! So she really was – she was doing a runner. But to where?
I could have wept. Except I couldn’t because I was way, way too angry. Of all the stupid things to do. What on earth had possessed her? Knowing my only course of action now would be to call the authorities, to report that she’d absconded with the kids I was fostering. With the children who’d been entrusted to my care. To put the ultimate black mark down against her.
But did she properly understand that? Would that have even crossed her mind? One last chance. One last opportunity to stop her case becoming a train wreck.
It ISN’T too late. Not if you come back. Where are you? Just let me know and I’ll drive and come and get you all. If you don’t then I’ll have to call the police and report the children missing. I won’t have any choice. Please just let me know where you are, love. I can give you fifteen minutes to think this all through, no more xx
Within seconds my heart leapt, as the message showed as read, and the little bubble with the dots in started blinking. And then plummeted as it came and went, three times in total. But no message came. Was she tussling with her conscience? Weighing up the risk of absconding with her children, knowing that, as they were children in care, the police would assuredly be on her tail? And how was it stacking up in her mind, given what she thought she did know? Given that she’d decided – because there was almost no doubt that she had, now – that she was almost certain to be losing them anyway?
I could have wept. It was the worst kind of Hobson’s choice imaginable. And she had been right to ask the question – how would I feel if I were her? How would I feel if I had to stand there and watch my children being taken from me? Would I even be able to? To physically let it happen? I didn’t think so. And it was so easy to forget, since at no point had it ever even been discussed, she had been parted from Seth once before. How had she felt when she’d been taken to the cells?
I had no answer. To either my question or my text, and all too soon fourteen of those fifteen minutes were over. One last shot.
Jenna, love. Please, please don’t do this xx
And an instant reaction.
Two emojis. One of a gust of wind, the other of a map. Was that supposed to mean she was disappearing?
It hit me like a truck. Was it even from her? Would she be that cryptic? That dismissive? That sarcastic?
Oh, God. Was Jake with her?
Police first, as per procedure. Which, of course, took for ever, the dispatcher needing a rundown of everything that had happened prior to them going ‘missing’ – full descriptions of Jenna and the kids, and the pram, then another raft of questions about what might have prompted the disappearance – had we had an argument? Had she indicated she might harm herself or the children? Might she be in ‘cahoots’ with another party or parties? Did I have any further information I could give them? So I told them about Jake, about the texts, about the scene at the court, and once they’d punched the numbers – or whatever it was that they did – as if by magic, his identity appeared.
‘Ah, here the fellow is,’ the dispatcher said. ‘He’s down as one of her known associates. And, from what you’ve told me, now in breach of his bail conditions, too. Grand. We’ll get back to you as soon as we have any news.’
The next phone call wouldn’t be so straightforward. Not least, I knew, because it was already gone seven. And, as I’d expected, the EDT (Emergency Duty Team) worker was abrupt; no doubt coming to the end of a busy night shift. I could hear him typing as I spoke, committing everything to the record, and, just when I thought the call was coming to an end, he then began interrogating me anew.
‘So you say your husband noticed them gone at 5.30 a.m.?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘And it’s now almost, erm, let me see, seven fifteen. Is there any reason for this delay in reporting?’
‘Well, I obviously phoned the police first, which took half an hour.’
‘Still. That leaves over an hour still unaccounted for. Over an hour of travelling time, which could mean the girl getting some distance away. In any direction,’ he added pointedly.
‘Yes, I see how it looks, but I did have my reasons. I was in contact with Jenna during that time, as I said, and was obviously hoping I could persuade her to return. It’s not like I just sat around waiting,’ I pointed out. ‘I was trying to avoid a worst-case scenario.’
‘But, in fact, Mrs Watson, that’s exactly what we might have. Anyway, thanks for your call. Someone will be in touch.’
I ended the call and let out an audible groan. I was such an idiot. Of course I was going to be in trouble for this. I’d done it again, hadn’t I? Given Jenna the benefit of the doubt when I absolutely shouldn’t have. Not after the last time. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t been warned about it. By my own husband, whose first action on finding them gone had been the right one. Why the hell hadn’t I just done what I was supposed to?
I felt tears prickling at my eyes, but refused to let them fall. What business did I have blubbing out of what was essentially self-pity? Suck it up, Casey! I thought, as I stomped back upstairs. I had brought this on myself, and I would just have to face the consequences. I’d taken on a placement that Christine had told me, and in no uncertain terms, that I probably shouldn’t have. That I didn’t have the cool rationality to deal with. Yet I had. And now I’d proven myself wanting. It didn’t matter an iota what I thought about it, either. No impassioned plea from me would make the slightest bit of difference. I had given Jenna, in my naivety, an unacceptable window of opportunity in which to get away. Why hadn’t I allowed myself to believe she’d have gone with Jake? Why hadn’t that been the very first thing I’d thought of?
I also had less than hour now, I judged, before the offices would open, my masters would assemble, and my phone would start bleeping and dinging like a telephone exchange. I needed to get showered, get dressed, get my sh** together, basically. I had an onslaught coming, and I needed to be ready for it.
And come it did, in a tidal wave of recriminations, large and small. No sooner had I put the phone down on the school – whose absence line I’d called, to let them know Seth wouldn’t be in today – then in came a call from Mike. Who at least kind of understood my reasoning – though for entirely different reasons. He was more shocked that the dodgy, out-on-bail ex-boyfriend would even have the resources, or the desire, to take on two small children, much less the wherewithal. But I still had to listen as he voiced his amazement that I hadn’t immediately got on the phone after he left for work. He knew I already felt bad, so he didn’t make a big thing of it, and in fact tried to make me feel better by telling me that my instincts were always second to none, that the fostering team knew this, so he was sure everything would be okay. What he didn’t say, at least, was ‘I told you so’. Because though I deserved it right now, I couldn’t bear to hear it.
Then came Christine, who must have had her ear to the ground, because she already knew all about the absconding.
‘My God, Casey,’ she said, ‘this isn’t going to do the girl any favours when she’s back in court.’
‘I suppose you’ve heard that I was late reporting it too?’ I answered. ‘But, Chris, in context, it’s not half as bad as it probably looks on paper. I was working on the assumption that she’d absconded alone. Had I thought for a moment that her ex might be behind it, I’d have got on to the police before doing anything. And as soon as I did, that’s exactly what I did do.’ I stopped then, suddenly aware that what I’d just said to her sounded even worse, perhaps, that it might look on paper. How naive did I sound? Why hadn’t I considered it? ‘Am I in big trouble?’ I finished.
‘Look, Casey, I can absolutely see how you were thinking, but, truthfully, I don’t actually know. There’s to be a meeting tomorrow to discuss all this with managers, so I’ll have to let you know after that. But there’s no doubt about it, an experienced carer such as yourself is expected to be fully conversant with the protocol. Which I know you are, normally. And I sympathise, genuinely.’ She paused for a second before continuing. ‘Perhaps this placement has, well, maybe just knocked you a little off-kilter.’
She wasn’t being patronising. That wasn’t Christine’s style at all. But her words made me feel even worse. As did her follow-up – that, assuming they caught up with Jenna, which she was confident would happen, we would have to face a ‘return home’ interview. With Sam Burdett.
‘One horror at a time,’ I said. ‘And by the way, re Sam Burdett, I’m not saying this just to try to make things better for Jenna, but the way he spoke to her yesterday [had it really only been yesterday, I thought?] was completely out of order. He told Jenna the children were going to be put up for adoption. He used the word “intention”. Said it was the authority’s intention. Not “suggestion”, but “intention”. And he didn’t make any attempt to soften the blow either, or show an iota of empathy. In fact, after a day that had already been extremely stressful for her, he seemed determined to trample on any single thread of hope left in her. I’m not trying to let myself off the hook, Chris – this is strictly between you and me – but I’m absolutely sure that’s a factor in what’s happened.’
There was a long moment of silence. ‘Noted,’ she said finally – and after such a lengthy pause that I wondered if she’d literally made a note. ‘And listen,’ she added, ‘don’t beat yourself up, okay? This was always going to be a difficult placement. This whole family were an unknown quantity, and in so many ways, and it’s not like you’ve just muddled through. You’ve gone out of your way to help them, every step of the way. Everyone knows that. Look, okay, so you made a bad decision this morning, but I think we’ve all been guilty of that one time or another. Please try not to worry. I’ll be in your corner tomorrow. Anyway, let’s hope they pick them up soon. I’ll call the minute I hear anything, okay?’
I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself then, rattling around my empty house, waiting. It wasn’t even nine yet, the day barely begun, but it felt like I’d been on a treadmill of hard labour already.
I’d been here before. And more times than I could count on my fingers. And every time I experienced the same set of emotions, from frustration, to anger, to sadness, to guilt. And every time came the inevitable wave of sheer terror. Because one day, I was sure, every single time it didn’t happen, that the call I received wouldn’t be from a cheery police constable, to announce that we could stand down, that they had the child or children, that all was well. It would instead be a sombre-voiced senior police officer, to let me know something terrible had happened.
So now, when my phone trilled, I had the usual spike of fear: was this time going to be that time?
The display, however, didn’t say ‘No caller ID’. It said Jenna.
I swiped to answer. ‘Oh, thank God you’ve got in touch!’ I said. ‘Where are you?’
I could hear a lot of background noise. Outside noise. The baby crying. ‘I don’t know. A place called Harborough, or something? Market Harborough? I’ve just got off the train.’
‘The train?’
‘The train to London. I don’t know what to do. I just thought I should get outside the station – get away from here – in case he comes back on another one. Another train.’
‘Jake’s not with you?’
‘No, we got off when he went down to the buffet. What should I do? Should I call the police? I’m scared to hang around here in case he comes back and finds us. Seth, shut up! You can see I’m talking to Auntie Casey! Or should I see if I can get a taxi? I’m right by the rank. Oh, God, I’m so sorry …’
I could tell she was panicking, distressed, struggling to speak. Casey, think. Market Harborough. Where was that? Many miles away. Maybe even a hundred or more. Lord, what time had they left to get so far away? And how? And, much more to the point, how to get them all back again? ‘The police,’ I said, decided. ‘Call 999. Immediately. Tell them who you are, and where you are. You’re already in the system, and with the kids being with you, they’ll send someone out to pick you up right away. Then go and wait for them, somewhere safe, around people. If there’s a café nearby, I suggest you go there. Go on – do it now. I’ll –’
‘I’m so sorry, Casey. I just –’
‘Now,’ I said again. ‘Call me afterwards.’
I was shaking, I realised, proper, full-on shaking, my fingers skittering across the screen as I pulled up my recent calls, to let the local police know I’d had contact with Jenna. This time they were quicker. Not exactly warp-speed, but at least no list of twenty questions. They’d liaise with their colleagues and make sure they were in touch. ‘Don’t call her yourself, though,’ the dispatcher said. ‘Just text her. Because we’ll obviously want to keep the line free.’
I did as asked, sending a text to let her know the police were on it, to which I got a reply straight away. They’re coming to get us. Jake’s ringing and ringing though. So I’m going to turn my phone off. I’ll switch it on again when we’re coming. I’m so sorry. Xx
I could only hope sorry wasn’t what we’d all be.
The police car pulled up at around eleven, and I went to the door to meet them. Seth was first to jump out and he immediately ran straight to me, holding his arms out in front of him to be picked up.
‘I’ve been in a police car!’ he told me excitedly as I scooped him into my arms.
‘So I see,’ I said. ‘How exciting!’
‘And McDonald’s. And a train.’
‘Oh, I’m so happy you’re back, baby,’ I said, giving him a tight squeeze. ‘Now, shall I put you down so I can help Mummy with Baby Tommy?’
Seth nodded, and then gave me an unexpected kiss on my cheek. ‘Can I go watch the big telly in the room for being good?’
‘Course you can,’ I said, setting him down. ‘Go on, you know how to put it on.’
I’d expected Jenna to look embarrassed but as I went to help her get the pram from the police car, I could see she just looked awful. Tired, distressed, weary, sad. All right there on her face and in her body language. She looked, more than anything, so slight, and so young. I felt very sorry for her. Much more sorry than annoyed at what she’d done.
But proud, too, that she’d acted the way that she had. Not only that, she’d had the sense to realise what she was doing, what she was risking, but also to act – and so incredibly decisively and bravely. I just desperately wanted to know what had happened.
‘There’s no need for me to come in,’ the police officer said, smiling. ‘Jenna’s given us a statement, and they’ve all been fed and watered, so I’ll get off if that’s okay, unless you need me for anything?’
I shook my head and thanked him before following Jenna into the house. She was carrying a large rucksack, her handbag, the baby and his changing bag. I had the pram and Seth’s little school backpack. Not very much stuff, I thought, with which to start a new life. I took the baby from her arms so she could take off her coat. Was that really what she’d thought she’d been doing?
I flicked the kettle on with my free hand while Jenna made up a bottle for Tommy. After my early start, and the anxiety that went with it, I felt wired, but at the same time, now all the adrenalin was subsiding, I knew I’d better top up before it all started catching up with me. I was also conscious of the time. Before I knew it, the cavalry would be here, in the shape of Sam Burdett, wanting to do his ‘return home’ interview.
‘So,’ I said, the baby still nestled in the crook of my arm, ‘while you feed this one, how about you tell me everything? Starting from when I left you to go up to bed. Was that when this began, or was it earlier?’
Jenna popped the made-up bottle in the microwave and set the timer for her usual fifty seconds. Then turned around. And I could see from her expression that she was going to be frank now. She’d crossed the Rubicon now, hadn’t she? So she might as well be honest.
‘Before that. We were texting – not in the way you’re thinking. I meant what I said yesterday. I wasn’t lying to you about Jake. I knew – I know – he’s the last thing the kids need in their lives. He was just telling me about how he knew he was going straight back to prison, so he’d be out of my life anyway, and that he was sorry, that was all. And, I don’t know, I just ended up telling him what Sam Burdett had told me, and Jake was sorry about that too, because he knew he’d fucked it up for me. And that was kind of it, till he told me he could at least help with money.’
‘Where does he get all this money from?’
She gave me a sideways glance as she pulled the bottle out of the microwave, slipped her cuff up and tested the temperature on the inside of her arm. All unthinkingly. Just routine. Just one day after another of doing all the little baby things. Unthinkingly. Automatically. No big deal for many of us, but this was a girl whose only experience of babies, as far as I could tell, was the one she’d had herself, at just fifteen years old, after spending her early teens with another kid, living in a shed. And soon after that, as she’d put it herself, f**king up, big time. Put like that, put in context, her performing these simple everyday maternal tasks was actually a very big thing indeed.
Jenna took Tommy from me, and lowered herself onto a kitchen chair. ‘Where do you think?’ she said simply. ‘Anyway, I told him I didn’t want his money. That I was going to lose the kids anyway. And it sort of grew from there. I just …’ She frowned. ‘I just couldn’t see a way out. So when he suggested we do a runner, it just, I don’t know – you know what it’s like when you’re lying there in the dark and everything feels hopeless … It just, well, at the time it just seemed to make sense.’
‘You surely didn’t really think you could just disappear off into the sunset? Jenna, you’re not stupid. Far from it. You must have surely known that. For one thing, the pair of you both have criminal records. And for another, you had two little ones in tow.’
‘I don’t think I did think. Not beyond running away, anyway. It just felt better than doing nothing. Better than just waiting for my future to be decided for me. I just had this really strong need to escape. No offence to your conservatory, Casey, obvs,’ she added, smiling, ‘but it’s been so horrible cooped up in there every day, knowing I couldn’t even leave the house with my own kids without permission. I s’pose I just wanted to be on my own with them. In charge of them. Looking after them. Not –’
‘On your own with them but with Jake,’ I pointed out.
‘God, no! That was never in my plans. That was just what he thought – he had this mad idea that if we got to London we could get the Eurostar and go to France …’
‘Without passports?’
‘Not right away. He had a mate somewhere down there who he said we could stay with till we could sort something out.’
‘Seriously?’
‘He was dead serious. No way was he going back to prison if he could help it. And he probably could. He probably will. If they don’t catch him, that is. You forget, he’s done stuff. He knows stuff. He’s older.’
‘How old?’
‘Twenty-nine.’
I did some quick maths. So, at the age of twenty-five, he’d got a fifteen-year-old pregnant. No, maybe even a fourteen-year-old. I had no words for him at that moment. Well, not that I could say out loud. ‘So what was your plan, then?’
‘I didn’t have one – I really didn’t. I just thought if I could get to London … I don’t know. Honestly. It was like I was high on something. I just wanted to get out. Run away. Haven’t you ever wanted to run away so bad you can’t think beyond it? No, you probably haven’t, have you?’ she added, before I could answer.
‘A couple of times. When I was young, maybe, and had got into trouble. But, no, not like you. But, love, I get that. I understand. So, you decided you’d go with him. What then?’
‘He arranged to pick me up. He had a friend who said he’d drive us to the station. Not round here. To where we could get a fast train to London. So I crept around, got some stuff together – I was totally on board with the whole thing now. I was buzzing. So that’s what we did.’
‘At what time?’
‘Around half four this morning.’
That brought me up short. This was still the same day. ‘You must have been like a ninja,’ I said. ‘Seriously.’
‘Believe me,’ she said, setting the empty bottle down on the table. ‘I am very good at being quiet.’
For reasons that would probably depress me, I decided. ‘But we didn’t even hear the car,’ I said. ‘And our bedroom’s at the front.’
‘Lol, it was electric,’ she said. It made us both smile.
‘So you drove to the station, got the train … when did your change of mind happen?’
‘Almost right away,’ she said, smiling down at the baby. ‘When this one started kicking off. Seth was sleeping on Jake, and he was nodding off as well, and the more I tried to shush Tommy, the more he started whinging, and there was a man on the train, in the seats the other side of us, in a suit, and he kept looking at me as if I was some useless piece of shit … And I realised. I thought, God, yeah, he’s absolutely fucking right.’
‘So you decided to get off at the next station?’
Jenna shook her head. ‘No. Not right then. I got Tommy to settle. And I just sat there looking out at all the countryside whooshing by, thinking how the hell I was going to get us out of this mess. Then Jake woke up and he said he’d head down to the buffet to get us coffee. And juice for Seth because now he’d started kicking off as well. And Jake said he’d take him. Stretch his legs and that. And Seth really, really wanted to. He thought the whole thing was like this massive holiday, of course. And I said no. It just hit me that he mustn’t go with him. Which made him kick off even more, but I stayed firm. I wasn’t having it – lol, you’d have been so proud of me – and I gave Jake some line about how he wouldn’t be able to keep hold of Seth and carry the coffees, so off he went, and even then I hadn’t actually made a plan yet. But then they said the next stop was going to be that station, and I knew the buffet car was, like, miles down the train. And the train was filling up now, so it would probs take him a while to get back. And it just suddenly hit me. We should just get off. Get our stuff together and get off the train. And Seth was, like, why? And I told him it was our stop, and he was, like, yeah, but what about my dad? And I made up some nonsense about him having to stay on till the next stop to get a car from a mate – which thank God he swallowed – and that was that. We got off. And I phoned you.’ She stood up slowly, and gently lowered Tommy down into his baby seat. Then, rising, she looped a strand of hair over her ear and sighed. ‘And now I’m back, and I suppose I have to face the consequences.’
It was Jake, however, who was first to have to face the consequences; they were relayed to me by Gilly Collins on the phone not long after Jenna got back. There were police ready and waiting to pick him up at St Pancras. Where he compounded the offence of breaking the terms of his bail by head-butting one of the constables. So, back to prison, and hopefully for a long time – and well out of the reach of Jenna. But, at least on that front, I had a hunch – a hopeful hunch – that the ties had already been cut.
But Jenna was all too soon forced to confront her own reckoning, as along with the news that Jake had been re-arrested, came the less edifying news that Sam Burdett would be with us within the hour.
‘So what you have to do now, love,’ I told Jenna, ‘is keep your cool, absolutely. Just tell him what you’ve told me and don’t lose your temper with him, even if he provokes you. And I tell you what. I’ll mind the little ones so you can get a bit of shut-eye. A little power nap, shall we say – because you look like you need it.’
‘Seriously, I could sleep for a week,’ she said with feeling.
‘You have twenty minutes,’ I told her. ‘Set your phone timer.’
Though, as it turned out, Sam Burdett didn’t arrive for a good ninety, citing some contra-flow system on the A-road near the office, by which time, having changed the baby and played polices (oh, the irony) with Seth for a bit, I’d taken him up to bed for a much-needed sleep. Though, as it turned out, Jenna hadn’t been using her own nap time to nap. Instead, when I popped my head round the conservatory to tell her he’d arrived, she emerged with a couple of sheets of A4 paper.
I’d made Sam a coffee – I felt ill-disposed towards him, obviously, but not that ill-disposed – and, having established that both boys were, indeed, home, and apparently well, he’d taken up his place at the dining-room table.
Jenna placed the sheets, which I could see were covered in tightly packed writing, down in front of him. ‘It’s all there,’ she said. ‘Everything I told to Casey, it’s all there written down for you. So I don’t have to go through it with you all over again. Feel free,’ she added, nodding towards it. ‘I’m just going to get myself a glass of squash.’ Then glancing at me and smiling grimly, she left us to it.
Sam picked up the sheets and began reading, as instructed, going ‘hmm’ once or twice, and, at one point, nodding to himself, while I gently rocked the baby seat on the floor beside me.
‘Well,’ he said, once he was done, ‘this is certainly comprehensive.’
‘So what now?’ I asked.
‘So I take this away and file it. She’s not –’ He paused then, as Jenna returned with her drink. ‘I was just saying to Mrs Watson,’ he continued, ‘you’ve not done yourself any favours with this escapade, have you?’
Jenna didn’t sit down. Instead she shrugged. ‘What difference does it make? You already said you were intending to put my kids up for adoption. What worse thing than that can you actually do to me? Have me shot?’
I didn’t like the way this conversation was proceeding. But at the same time I couldn’t help but admire her for saying that. I was also torn. What I absolutely mustn’t do now was give him any reason to think I was acting as her advocate. But it didn’t appear that she even felt she needed one.
‘I’m going to fight you, by the way,’ she said, her tone low and level. ‘I’m going to fight you with every single breath in my body. I’m going to fight you till I don’t have a breath left in my body. Just so you know. Anyway, do you have any more questions? Because I need to go and wake Seth up. Not good for kids to sleep for too long in the day, or it’s impossible to get them down at night. You probably know that.’
Her barb wasn’t lost on me. And, I didn’t think, on him. ‘I think this will be enough,’ he replied. ‘Unless you have any questions?’
‘Nope,’ Jenna said. ‘Not that I can think of at the moment.’ She looked at me. ‘I’ll go up then, if that’s okay?’
I nodded. ‘I do have some questions,’ I said, once she’d left. ‘I take your point about this “escapade”, even if I don’t happen to agree with it, but are things really that cut and dried now? That adoption is, in the view of the authority,’ I added pointedly, ‘the only outcome on the table here?’
Sam slipped Jenna’s papers into the folder in front of him. ‘I can’t see that the judge has any other choice after this, can you?’
‘But aren’t there other options? I mean, is it really so that it’s either adoption or she gets them back in a situation such as this? I’m not an expert, but I’m almost positive that’s not actually the case.’
He shifted in his seat. ‘Well, yes, hypothetically, there are multiple options. One of them being that they remain in a mother and baby placement for further assessment, for up to a year. But that obviously wouldn’t be under consideration in this case because Jenna’s already proved she can’t be trusted and stick to the rules, even when under strict observation.’
I bit back on my urge to insist that he qualify that statement – at least to cite me specific examples, in this case, where we could at least open up a conversation. Where I’d have an opportunity, while obviously acknowledging her lapses in judgement, to cite examples where she had demonstrated some pretty sound maternal judgement – and against a background so awful, such a lack of any role models, that, in this case, they were pretty damned impressive.
But I mustn’t do that, I knew. So I simply kept prodding. ‘You said multiple options. So what else might the judge look at?’
‘Long-term fostering, obviously, while the mother appeals. Though that’s not what we’re recommending –’
‘Any others?’
‘Yes,’ he said, and I could hear the exasperation in his voice. ‘But none that the authority are recommending.’
‘But don’t you have a duty to explore all the options? These are her children we are talking about and she is desperate not to lose them.’
‘First and foremost we have a duty to those children,’ he said. ‘And for that reason we are clear what our recommendation is going to be. It is in the children’s best interest to be adopted straight away. I know you think you know this girl better than I do and want to fight her corner, but it would be even worse for them, particularly the baby, to be in the middle of a long, drawn-out process, only to be taken away in the end.’
Sam’s words stayed with me long into the night as I tried to decide what to do about what I’d heard. On the one hand, I could see that Jenna lacked many parenting skills, but she clearly loved her babies, and she was learning, wasn’t she? And did her lack of skills at the moment mean that she automatically deserved to lose them? Not in my eyes. In my opinion Jenna was as much of a victim as anyone in this case. She had been severely neglected herself as a child and had slipped through the net. The authorities hadn’t chased her down. Schools had simply stopped sending truancy letters home and had assumed the family had left the area. Nothing had been followed up, leaving poor Jenna without role models, without anyone, in fact, to show her what real parenting was all about. I tossed and turned till I finally drifted off to sleep, and when I woke at dawn, I knew what I had to do.
I had to fight her corner.