Joan*, 53, had to step in to protect her grandchildren
*NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED. WORDS: LOUISE BATY, TIFFANY WALLIS. PHOTOS (POSED BY MODELS): GETTY
Watching my daughter change her baby boy’s nappy, I tried to ignore the gnawing worry in the pit of my stomach. It was November 2018 and Ann*, then 29, was a single mum to Grace*, nearly eight, and Daniel*, 11 months. Not for the first time, I prayed that Ann would finally step up to her responsibilities as a parent.
While I had happy memories of raising Ann as a single, working parent, baking fairy cakes with her and playing hide and seek, I was constantly disappointed by the way she cared for her own children - or, rather, failed to care for them.
There were no baking sessions or fun games at her house, with rubbish and unwashed plates covering every surface. The sad truth was that, despite lots of practical and emotional support from me, she neglected Grace and Daniel, rarely even giving them a bath. ‘Stop nagging me,’ she’d moan if I ever said anything to her. Ann worked on and off as a support worker for people with learning disabilities, and when I’d ask why she lived in such squalor, she blamed me, saying I was so tidy that it’d driven her the other way. It didn’t make sense, and while she was loving and affectionate towards the kids, she failed to provide them with the basics. She’d tell me how she made them hot chocolate before bedtime, but what was the point when she’d tuck them into a bed with no sheets?
When the kids came to stay with me and my husband Paul* - Ann’s stepdad - for weekly sleepovers, I’d hide my dismay at their greasy hair and smelly clothes. It was unbearable imagining how they lived and twice, before Daniel was born, I’d turned up at Ann’s and taken Grace home with me, telling her she needed to tidy up before I brought her back.
She did, but it never lasted long. I’d find myself making endless excuses for Ann, who’d admittedly had a rough time over the years, due to a series of unhappy relationships with both men and women.
‘It can’t be easy for her,’ I’d say to Paul.
I never stopped hoping that she’d pull herself together, particularly in June 2019 when she brought her new girlfriend of six months, Clare* over for Sunday lunch.
I hoped this new relationship would bring some much needed stability into Ann’s life, but Clare’s surly manner left me uneasy. I didn’t like the abrupt, controlling way she spoke to Ann, and noticed she paid little attent
