Another Forgotten Child. Cathy Glass

– landline and mobile – and email address, all of which the social services should give the school but hardly ever do. ‘You appreciate my details are confidential,’ I said. ‘Susan doesn’t know where Aimee is staying.’

      ‘Good. Less chance of her causing trouble,’ Lynn said.

      When she’d finished writing I said: ‘Last night when I helped Aimee with her bath I noticed she had a lot of small bruises all over her, some of them quite new.’

      Lynn nodded. ‘We often saw bruises on Aimee and always reported them to the social services. Her mother said she was accident prone. Aimee was in school so little we couldn’t monitor her properly, and she was never in school on the days she had PE – a classic sign a child may have something to hide and doesn’t want to undress. When I asked Aimee how she got the bruises she said she fell over. I doubt it; they didn’t appear to be in the right places for falling over.’

      ‘No,’ I agreed. ‘I intend reporting what I’ve seen to the social worker when I speak to her later. I guess with so little schooling Aimee is a long way behind with her learning? Yesterday evening she struggled to do a simple puzzle that was suitable for a pre-school child.’

      ‘Aimee is a long, long way behind in all her learning,’ Lynn confirmed, shaking her head sadly. ‘She can just about write her first name but that’s the only word she can write; she can only count to ten, doesn’t know her alphabet and has a sight vocabulary of three words.’

      I gasped. ‘She can only read three words at the age of eight?’

      ‘Her mother says Aimee has learning difficulties but I don’t think so. I’m sure it’s a combination of virtually no schooling and not being able to concentrate when she has been in school. I’ve found before when children have difficult home lives that they spend all their time worrying about what’s going on at home rather than concentrating on their lessons: if Mum is staying off the drink or drugs, if she’s getting a beating from Dad, if they are going to receive another beating when they get home or if there’s any food in the house. I’m sure now Aimee’s in care she’ll achieve great things.’

      I nodded, although I hoped Lynn wasn’t expecting too much too soon. Lynn had clearly had experience of children who’d been abused or neglected, but while I agreed with what she said about Aimee catching up I knew it would take time. Aimee would start to learn now she was safe and being looked after but she had eight years of neglect and goodness knew what else to overcome first, and they would leave emotional scars, many of them deep.

      Lynn and I discussed Aimee’s learning a while longer and I said I would do all I could to help her at home. Then Lynn’s phone rang. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, picking up the handset. I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end was saying, but it soon became clear it was bad news. Lynn’s previous warm and positive expression vanished, and was replaced by concern and anxiety. ‘I’ll come straight down,’ she said, standing. Then, replacing the receiver, she said to me: ‘Stay here. Susan is in the school and is very angry. She’s looking for trouble.’