‘What makes you happy, Millie?’ Trisha Banks, the safeguarding officer, smiled at the solemn little girl seated before her in her office. With very little background information, intentionally so, Trisha only knew that her colleagues were desperate to find the girl’s mother. It was her job to draw information from Millie about her homelife without any preconceived ideas, which may inadvertently cause her to make suggestions or put words into the child’s mouth.
Using careful open-ended questions, Trisha hoped to build up a picture of Millie’s life with her mother, looking for anything untoward, which could range from neglect to physical, sexual, or emotional abuse.
Millie looked at the adult she’d only just met with wide eyes, unsure whether to speak or not, although her grandma had told her she could tell this lady anything she wanted to.
‘I’ll go first, shall I?’ Trisha smiled again. ‘I have a puppy called Rosie, with a very waggy tail and long soft ears. She makes me happy when she gives me doggy kisses and wants to play with me.’
‘Grandma has a dog called Barney…’ Millie whispered.
‘Really, and when do you see Barney?’
‘I don’t. Grandma says he’s gone now, but we might get another dog.’
‘That would be lovely. Dogs make such good pets. What else makes you happy, Millie?’
‘I like school… and my friend, Evie.’
‘Wow, you must be a really big girl if you go to school. What’s the best thing about school?’
‘All the toys and books and playing with Evie.’
‘And what about at home? What do you enjoy doing at home?’
The little girl answered very politely, still clearly unsure whether she should be telling this stranger details about her life.
‘Reading my books and playing with Dorothy.’
‘Is this Dorothy? She’s very pretty.’
Millie nodded and hugged her doll even closer; as if afraid to lose her again.
‘Do you like colouring? I have some pens and paper over in the play corner. We could draw some pictures if you like?’
A brief smile crossed the girl’s face, and so Tricia moved to the table in the corner and began sorting the pens. Millie followed tentatively.
‘My favourite colour’s blue. What’s yours?’
‘Yellow, but Evie’s favourite is pink.’
‘Why don’t you draw a picture of Evie so I can see what she looks like? Or maybe you’d like to draw someone else, Mummy or Grandma perhaps?’
Millie chose a yellow pen and started to draw her school friend and then her grandma. It was going to be a slow process, but Tricia was endlessly patient. From drawing people, they progressed to drawing their houses, working side by side until Millie was chatting quite readily to this lady, who quickly gained the status of a new friend.
‘Who takes you to school, Millie?’
‘Mummy does, and then Mrs Palmer picks me up, and I have to go to her house.’
‘And is it fun at Mrs Palmer’s?’
‘Not really. She smells, and her house is cold and dark. She just watches things on television all the time and I have to be quiet. Dorothy and I can read books when I’m a good girl, but if I make a noise, I have to go into the yard and she takes Dorothy away… and I can’t have my beans. But if it’s raining, I’m allowed to go in the shed.’
Tricia swallowed hard at the mental picture of this slight little girl, who looked as though a strong wind would blow her over, put out into a yard just so her childminder could watch television.
‘And does Mummy pick you up from Mrs Palmer’s house to take you home for tea?’
‘Yes, she picks me up, but I’ve usually had my beans, so we don’t eat at home.’
‘Does Evie ever come to your house to play?’ Tricia ventured.
‘No. Mummy doesn’t like visitors. I went to Evie’s house once… it was fun. She has lots of toys and a trampoline, and a swing in the garden. We were allowed to watch Peppa Pig on the television too. I’d never seen it before – Peppa has a little brother who’s so funny – Evie says she watches it all the time, but my mummy says cartoons are bad for me. Evie’s mummy laughs a lot and never gets cross, even if Evie’s really naughty and makes lots of noise. Mrs Harper cooked us fish fingers and alphabet spaghetti for tea, with bananas and ice cream for afters. She reads bedtime stories too, even though Evie can read.’ Millie continued her colouring, lapsing into thoughtful silence, but then picked up the narrative again.
‘When Mummy came to take me home, I didn’t want to go, but I didn’t dare say so. Evie’s mummy hugged me goodbye, and I started to cry. Mummy was cross. She says I’m too old for hugs and to cry – now that I’m five and a big girl.’
‘And do you think you’ll go to Evie’s house again sometime?’ Tricia was blinking back the tears as Millie spoke.
‘No, I’d like to go again, but Mummy said Evie’s mummy spoiled me like Grandma and Granddad do, and I’m not allowed to be spoiled.’
‘So, other than Mrs Palmer, does anyone else look after you, Millie?’
‘No.’ The child shook her head, an earnest expression on her face as she was thinking of what to say next.
‘If Mummy has to go out, I have to stay in my bedroom, alone ’cause I’m a big girl now.’ She continued the colouring as she spoke, her brow creased in concentration.
‘It’s scary on my own, even when Mummy gives me some magic medicine, which she says will make me brave. But all it does is make me sleepy. Sometimes, when I’m alone in the house for a long time, I get very hungry, and I worry that Mummy might never come back, especially when it gets dark…’
