minute later the door to the flat next door opened and an elderly lady poked her head out. ‘You the social?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Doris said with a smile, wondering why it was so obvious.
‘Good. That baby’s been crying far too much for my liking, but the mother don’t talk to me,’ the neighbour said, and then disappeared back inside, closing the front door. Doris pressed the bell to Bonnie’s flat again, more determined than ever to gain entry. If the mother didn’t answer then she’d call back later, and if there was still no response she’d return with a court order and the police.
Giving the bell another push, Doris stooped so she was at eye-level with the letter box and peered in. Her view was blocked by a draught excluder, so she tried calling through the letter box: ‘Bonnie, love, are you in? My name’s Doris. I’m a social worker. Can we have a chat please, love? Nothing for you to worry about.’ Doris knew from experience that you didn’t go straight in talking about child-protection issues if you could help it. Sometimes it was unavoidable – if a child was in danger and had to be removed – but in cases like this it was likely that Bonnie could be helped with support and monitoring.
Straightening, Doris pressed the bell again and waited. A few moments later she heard the lock turn, and then the door opened. ‘Hello, love,’ she said, smiling. ‘Are you Bonnie?’
The young woman nodded. Dressed in a crumpled T-shirt and shorts, with her hair dishevelled, she’d clearly just stumbled out of bed. ‘What do you want?’ she asked defensively.
‘I’m a social worker. I’d just like to have a chat to make sure that you and your baby are OK, and that you’re accessing everything you’re entitled to. Your health visitor asked me to drop by. I work with her,’ she added. The health visitor had told Doris that while there were no obvious signs that baby Lucy was being physically abused, the level of care she was receiving fell below an acceptable standard and was bordering on neglect – although Doris wouldn’t be saying that yet.
‘Can I come in?’ Doris asked with another smile.
Clearly resenting the intrusion, the young mother stood aside and Doris stepped into the short hall, where a bag of rubbish was waiting to be taken out. She closed the front door behind her. She couldn’t hear a baby crying, but there was a strong smell of soiled nappies.
‘You can sit in there while I get her up,’ Bonnie said grudgingly, nodding towards the door to the living room, while she opened the door to the bedroom.
‘It’s all right. I’ll come with you,’ Doris said brightly. ‘We can talk while you see to your baby.’ A less experienced social worker might have sat in the living room and waited for the mother to return, thereby missing the opportunity to see more of the client’s home and how they related to their child or children.
As Doris followed Bonnie into the bedroom she took in the rumpled double bed with only one pillow, seeming to confirm what Bonnie had told the health visitor: that she had no partner or live-in boyfriend. Doris also saw the pile of dirty laundry in one corner, the overflowing clutter on the windowsill, which was being used as a shelf, and the cot against the wall where the baby sat in silence, holding onto the bars and staring out like a little caged animal.
‘What a lovely baby,’ Doris said, joining Bonnie at the cot and trying to put the mother at ease. She could feel Bonnie’s hostility and it wouldn’t help in building a relationship. ‘Her name’s Lucy, isn’t it?’
Bonnie nodded, reached into the cot and lifted out her daughter. Doris noticed the toys in the cot – the infant activity centre and rattle. That was positive, she thought. But she also saw that the baby’s sleep suit was saturated, as was the cot bedding, and there was a strong smell of faeces and ammonia, suggesting that Lucy had been in the same nappy for a long time. She watched as Bonnie laid Lucy on the bed and then, taking a roll of toilet paper from the windowsill, began removing Lucy’s sleep suit. Doris saw the baby stiffen and brace herself, as though she was expecting pain. Having removed the wet and soiled nappy, Bonnie tore off a strip of toilet paper and began cleaning Lucy’s red raw bottom. The baby cried out and Doris looked at Bonnie expecting a reaction. There was none. The mother seemed impervious to her daughter’s distress and continued cleaning Lucy’s bottom with strips of dry toilet paper without trying to soothe her in any way.
‘Don’t you have any baby wipes or cream for her bottom?’ Doris asked, as Bonnie reached for a clean nappy.
‘No, I ran out.’
‘You need to get some more, and a pot of antiseptic barrier cream from the chemist today. Or go to your doctor for a prescription. You’re on benefit so the medication will be free. As soon as you can,’ Doris added. ‘Her little bottom’s very sore and causing her a lot of distress.’
Bonnie gave a tight nod and picked up her daughter, who had now stopped crying. She carried her into the living room. Doris followed. She wasn’t worried that Lucy was wearing only a vest and nappy as it was June and the flat was warm. However, she was concerned by the lack of interaction between mother and baby. At ten and a half months of age a baby would normally be seeking out its mother’s attention, but Lucy didn’t, and the most likely explanation was that she’d been ignored for so long that she’d given up trying to engage with her mother, and so far the mother had made no attempt to engage with her daughter. She held her, but didn’t talk to her or make eye contact.
Doris noted that the living room was very bare considering a mother and child lived there. Two old chairs and a chipped coffee table were the only furniture, and there were no toys in this room apart from a heap of plastic building bricks in one corner. Clutter free and unlived in, it suggested to Doris that mother and daughter were either out a lot or lived mainly in the bedroom, possibly staying in bed for most of the day if the mother was very depressed, as the health visitor had thought. Doris sat in one of the chairs and Bonnie sat in the other, setting Lucy on the floor. As soon as Lucy was down she went onto her hands and knees and began a slow and cumbersome crawl across the room towards Doris. Doris took some comfort from seeing this, for she hadn’t crawled while the health visitor had been present, and babies who are severely neglected often fail to meet this developmental milestone, remaining like newborn infants from being left in their cot all day.
‘She’s doing well with her crawling,’ Doris said encouragingly, taking a notepad and pen from her bag.
Bonnie nodded.
‘You are a clever girl,’ Doris said, smiling at Lucy. Lucy stared back, her large eyes unresponsive. ‘Is she trying to pull herself up into a standing position yet?’ Doris then asked Bonnie. This would be one of the next developmental milestones and was often achieved by babies of Lucy’s age.
‘No,’ Bonnie said, fiddling with her hair.
‘I expect she will soon,’ Doris said positively, making a note. ‘What does Lucy like to eat?’
‘The health visitor asked me that,’ Bonnie said resentfully. ‘I told her – milk, yoghurt and porridge.’
Doris nodded. ‘And I believe the health visitor suggested some new foods for Lucy to try?’
Bonnie nodded again.
‘Good. We’ll have a look in your kitchen later and you can show me what you’re planning to eat today.’
‘I haven’t been shopping yet,’ Bonnie said tersely. ‘That health visitor was only here a few days ago.’
Three days, Doris thought; plenty of time to go shopping and to start implementing the health visitor’s suggestions for feeding Lucy. She glanced down at Lucy who, having arrived at her chair, was sitting quietly at her feet like an attentive puppy.
‘Hello, love,’ she said to Lucy, with a smile. But the look on Lucy’s face was pretty much the same as her mother’s – suspicious and watchful.
‘It’s very difficult bringing up a child on your own,’ Doris said, returning her attention to Bonnie. ‘Do you have any family living close by who can help you?’ She