Heidi’s mum ran a hand through her hair and looked really worried. “Is there somewhere we can talk – I don’t really know what to do. I’m Romy – parent of that one over there with the hair like mine.”
I’d been told earlier this week about Heidi’s father, that he’d not made it back after being part of a lifeboat rescue crew. The boy he’d rescued had survived, but Joel McAllister hadn’t made it out of the sea that night, leaving his wife a widow and his baby fatherless. I was surprised – although I shouldn’t have been – that Heidi was such a happy child; I’d seen her play with the children who were shy in the playground and interact confidently with the older kids.
“She’s a very good reader.” That seemed like the most appropriate comment.
“She’s obsessed with books, which I’m not going to complain about.” Her smile was fleeting.
Amelie put two bottles of fruit juice on the bar. “The room at the back is free for you to talk for ten minutes. I’ll keep an eye on the girls.”
“Thank you.” Romy gave Amelie a brief smile and looked at me. “Shall we? I really need some advice on this.”
I nodded and slid off my bar stool, following her behind the bar. “Will Heidi wonder where you are?”
She shook her head. “Not if Amelie’s here. I’m just sorry I’m interrupting your evening.”
“Don’t be. This is part of the job.” It was. As head, or even as deputy, we dealt with safeguarding concerns out of hours, making the right phone calls to get other agencies involved where needed. Education was the fourth emergency service, often filling in when the police or health were struggling with the volume of issues that were considered more urgent.
We headed into a small room with staff lockers and an array of coats hung up. It was obviously the staff room, although no one was in it at the moment. It would do for a confidential conversation, or so I hoped.
“What do you know about Mia’s mother?” She sat down on a chair, bending forward enough so I glimpsed the creamy skin underneath the shirt that she wore.
“I know she’s finding things difficult. Mia’s teacher passed on what had happened, or what she thought was happening.” I knew from experience with safeguarding that parents were often fearful of social workers and the social care system. They were worried that their children would be taken into care when this was unlikely to happen unless it was an extreme case and parents were unable to keep their children safe even with support from professionals. “Mia’s dad wasn’t around and mum had signs of post-natal depression. Is that right?”
Romy nodded, looking a little less fraught. “She struggled after having Mia. Cara’s aunt lived in for a few weeks to help out,but she had to go back to her own family. After Cara had Mia she would barely leave the house at first, but then she got involved with someone else and she seemed happier. We were actually in labour at the same time, so I always felt a bit of a bond, but I don’t think Cara felt the same. I remember coming by to see if Mia wanted to come to the butterfly palace for a day and I found all the curtains closed and heard Cara crying, or I think it was Cara. Mia answered the door when she knew it was me and said her mum had been in bed for two days. The poor kid had been trying to cook for herself and look after her mum.”
“What did you do?”
She shrugged slight shoulders that looked like they were used to carrying a heavy load.
“I went in. Cleaned up as much as I could. Put some washing on and sent Mia outside to play with Heidi. Woke Cara and pretty much forced her to get up and shower and eat. She made an appointment with the doctor because I told her if she didn’t, I’d call social care, and then she called her aunt who did come to stay for a bit. That was about a year ago. I’m not angry about Cara – I know exactly how hard it is to be on your own with a small child and to have limited support. When my husband died the village was there for us. Dinners were made, the house was kept tidy and repairs done for me, but even with all that I felt so alone. Cara was too proud and too scared to ask or accept help, or at least I figured that was the reason.” She shook her head as if she was trying to persuade herself this was the case. “What do we do? She’s abandoned her child who’s too young to be on her own.”
“Have you tried calling her?” It was probably a stupid question.
“Her phone’s off. I’ve messaged. I don’t know her well enough to know where she might’ve gone apart from the aunt’s. Do we need to call the police?”
There was a quiet resolve to her voice that told me this woman was mostly made of steel.
“We should and they can give us advice. Unless we can safely say where Cara is and she’s okay, we need to assume she’s possibly at risk of harm.” This wasn’t what I expected at the end of my first week as head, but these things did happen. You were never completely off the job. “I’ll log into the school’s systems and see who’s down for the emergency contact. We might find she’s gone to stay with them.”
“I didn’t think of that. It’ll be a relief if she’s gone to stay with her aunt. I’m so sorry to have spoilt your evening – I bet you thought you were done with work for the week.”
“Don’t be sorry; it’s why they kind of pay me the small bucks. Will you be here for another half an hour?”
Romy nodded. “We’ll have dinner – which will take at least an hour, and then I’ll take the girls down to the beach. Is it okay if Mia stays with us? She has done before.”
“Honestly, there’s no way social services would be able to find an emergency foster place quickly. If we can’t find where Cara is by tomorrow, they may decide that she has to go into emergency care, or they may say it’s fine for her to stay with you – which will probably be the case. Is it okay if I take your number? I’ll come back here when I’ve made a few phone calls, but just in case you’ve gone to the beach by then.” It felt off, asking for her number like this.
Romy McAllister was the sort of woman whose number I’d be hoping to get, if I hadn’t just gotten out of an unhealthy marriage and she wasn’t the parent of a child at my school, not that that was forbidden.
And not in circumstances like this.
“If you give me your phone, I’ll type it in.” She held out her hand.
“Phone yourself from it then you have my number. If Cara turns up then call me, or if you think of somewhere else she might be, let me know.” I heard her phone start to vibrate already.
“I will do. See you in a bit.”
There was only the one emergency contact number for Mia Brice, someone who was named as Mia’s great-aunt, held on our system. I rang the deputy head to see if she had any other information anywhere, but that wasn’t the case. The emergency number was for Cara Brice’s aunt, as Romy suspected, and the phone was switched off, but there was an address on the island that we could direct the police to check, or social care – whichever one had capacity on a Friday evening.
