Bourton & District

Short Story No.9

A Day in the Life of…a Social Worker

There I was, standing on the doorstep in the rain, knocking on the door of a house which seemed to be even greyer than the clouds above. Even the small front garden was colourless, no grass or plants but plenty of waste items, seemingly thrown over the low wall beside the pavement. I’d walked there from the office as it wasn’t far in this deprived and crowded area of Leeds. It wasn’t the type of place to leave a car waiting while visiting. I’d been through the slashed tyres and keyed door stages but hadn’t yet had it stolen.

I was there, wrapped in my 24 year-old confidence given to me by my qualifications which said, undoubtedly, that I could do this job! With two years of social work under my belt, I was ready to change the world! As one of two duty officers that day I’d taken a call from the headmistress of the local junior school who was worried about a 9 year-old boy who lived there.

“He’s due to go to court about non-attendance and, yet again, he’s failed to turn up either yesterday or today. I’d contact the EWO who knows him but I’m concerned that his hygiene is deteriorating and he always looks ragged and uncared for. He’s unhappy, too. I think there’s something up at home. I know his mother, Mrs B, is a single parent and that Tom is an only child.”

I contacted the Education Welfare Officer in question and he said he’d be pleased to have someone else’s take on the boy and he hadn’t yet got around to seeing the mother. I’d knocked on the door several times and eventually it opened a crack to show me a young boy standing there, looking unwashed, dishevelled and somewhat unhappy.

“Are you Tom?” I asked and “Is your Mummy home?” at his slight nod to the first question.

Without hesitation, almost without my saying who I was, he turned to lead me into the house. He entered the first room which turned out to be the sitting room; dark, slightly smelly and definitely dirty. There on a sofa lay a woman, sleeping. Her clothes were strange – a combination of slip, socks and a cardigan. The room was cold and the woman’s face pale. I went over to her and touched her, at which she murmured, turned over and slept again. I had smelled the alcohol from the room door but when I approached the sofa the smell was strong. This woman had definitely been drinking alcohol – and a lot of it! It transpired that an empty bottle which had contained whisky was lying beside the end of the sofa.

Tom told me about his life with his mother and to cut a very long story short, it became increasingly obvious that Tom was being neglected to the point where his health, his education, his social interaction and his future were being jeopardised. His mother was “never” sober. His one word answer to the question! He said also that he had no contact with other relatives and neither did his mother, as far as he knew. No other relatives to take him to!

Tom and I talked further. His mother, meanwhile, had not been conscious. I was concerned about her because I’d been there some time and she seemed to be as insensible as she had been initially despite my attempts at waking her.

Tom had indicated that, despite everything, he wanted to stay with his mother but I knew I couldn’t leave him permanently there. I left, went to a local phone box and arranged for my duty partner to get a Place of Safety Order (POS) to me as soon as possible, giving him the grounds and to arrange a placement for Tom. I asked also that he phone the doctor to see if he would attend Mrs B.

When my partner arrived with the POS and the placement arranged, there followed what I can say was one of the most distressing times of my career. Tom was adamant he wanted to stay at home with his mother, became very upset and was kneeling beside and clinging to his mother who was still unconscious on the sofa. It was fortunate I had the help of my duty partner, and that the doctor arrived. It was difficult physically to tear Tom from his mother.

Tom’s situation touched me as nothing I had done before had. He was not a “bad” lad, would have gone to school if his mother hadn’t been as she was, I was sure, and he was devoted to her. A POS order was the only safe solution for him at that time and I hoped earnestly that his mother would receive treatment and he’d be able to return.

After settling Tom into the Family Group Home where he was to stay, pending assessment of the whole family situation and Tom’s court appearance, Ian, my duty partner, and I went back to the office. Several calls had come in but only one needed my immediate attention.

It was a request that an officer who was authorised under the Mental Health Act attend a house where an ambulance, two ambulance men and a GP awaited the arrival of such an officer. A dentist and his wife, who was said to be delusional and “raving”, lived there. The woman had refused admission to hospital, where she was known, and it was considered that an emergency section was needed. Unfortunately, Ian wasn’t yet authorised and so I went along, arranged the section and was responsible for the woman being admitted against her will, in a strait jacket. But that’s another story.

It hadn’t been the easiest, or the shortest, of days.

Joyce Smith