Free Mummy Where Are You? (Revised Edition, new) by Jeanne D'Olivier Page B

airport.  He had been appalled at her lack of professionalism, especially as she was claiming payment from the Government whilst doing private work for the Court.
     
                  As  much as this solid Lancashire man had supported and listened to us, he suddenly swung the other way.  One could only assume it was because he was in the pay of the Department and pressure had been put on him in some way.  It was a mystery but now he was here too.  The Government were clearly determined to get us back and were prepared to use taxpayers' money to send two people out, but on this occasion we managed to thwart them and they neither appeared in Court or managed to take M.   I later discovered that they had gone to see him, but I didn’t find out what had been said to M until months later.  M was silenced and too afraid to tell me anything at our contact sessions, clearly having been warned that he would not see his mummy if he gave her any information about what was happening to him.
                  Meanwhile, the CAS offered me two one hour contact slots with M at the  Children’s Aid Society building and they offered my father one.  We both took these gratefully but also fearing each time what state M would be in when we saw him and longing to sweep him up and take him home, whilst being powerless to do so.
                  The CAS said the foster carers had agreed to a phone call that Saturday morning.  M rang me and we had a ten minute chat.   He seemed happier with these people, since he had moved from the first foster home, from where I later discovered he had twice tried to pack his little Thomas the Tank   rucksack and run away.   How could this be in the best interests of a seven year old?  Yet still we could do nothing except comply with the strict regime.  
                  The Foster Mother, whose name was Candy – asked for M’s Club Penguin membership details so that he could go on the internet and play.  At least this was something familiar to him and something he had done at home.  I gave her the password and username and thanked her for looking after M.  “It’s a pleasure.”  She said.  “He's a lovely boy.”  I was reassured that whilst he could not be with me, he was with someone who was kind and there were other children there with whom he quickly made friends, being a sociable boy. 
                  M took comfort in the other children, especially one little girl who was adopted and a couple of years older than him.   He had long since learned that adults could not be trusted, did not listen and did not believe him, other than his Mummy and Grandad, but as children often do in these terrible situations, he looked to his peers for support.
                  After the success of the phone contact which was reported as positive by the CAS, future calls were then suddenly stopped on orders from Social Services back home.  It was another cruelly bitter blow for M and for me.  We had done nothing wrong, yet the omnipotent Department punished us further.   It was almost as if they were getting revenge for us daring to run and for managing to do it.  
                  The tabloids  had picked up our story and had run three articles.   This clearly was not good publicity for the Island as they wrote candidly and as we were outside the Island’s jurisdiction there was nothing to prevent them running the articles legally, but it was inflammatory as far as those back home were concerned. 
                  We had run in the face of an order when the police were on port, alert and in broad daylight right under their noses.  It hardly made the authorities look competent and at that moment they saw us a threat to their carefully protected image of the sanitary safe community that was advertised as a safe haven.   The reality was very different. Drugs were rife, and it was known that