Obv we’re not going to alert the council
Why ‘Obv’? This sounds like you’re intending to take some kind of action. Just because they’ve made a mistake doesn’t give you the right to make contact if the courts haven’t said you can.
Stitcher: Oh dear. I have to agree with the others, Jenny. You don’t want to jeopardise anything by using this. You don’t want to alienate the APs by hassling them or trying to make contact with your GD. Also, think about your GD – could really upset/traumatise her. You are making a big mistake IMO which could hurt a lot of people. Please think long and hard about this.
Then in comes Bertha: Hey, am I missing something here or has JennyPenny done nothing wrong? Get off her case, people.
JennyPenny: Thanks Bertha :) Everyone, I’m not going to do anything, it’s my son I’m worried about he is an adult and I cant stop him going round there if he wants. But what would happen if he did? Could he get arrested?
EagleHasLanded: Yes he could get arrested.
Bertha: Yes he could get arrested. And get a slap on the wrist.
EagleHasLanded: Big Bertha, I hope you’re not suggesting that JennyPenny’s son SHOULD make contact with his daughter and/or her adoptive parents. He should NOT!!!
And you need to be very careful what you say on here. Suggesting that someone should defy the courts is dangerous and wrong. Please remember what happened to Bekki’s Gran when she posted similar advice.
Bertha: Bekki’s Gran, if you’re reading this, miss ya babe :)
OK Eagle, pull your horns in. Am I allowed to say that JennyPenny and her son and his ex could use this info to look on Facebook etc. and see if the APs have anything up on the net? That way they could maybe see photos of their girl and find out how she’s doing etc. without breaking the court’s conditions. How would anyone know you were doing that anyway?
Miss ya too, babe. Bertha’s spot on, as ever. What a woman.
I read out the posts to Jed and Connor, who’s just come in to get the end of Bargain Hunt before his shift at PC World. He looks like he’s back at the school in that fucking uniform, black trousers with a belt and a short-sleeved blue shirt with ‘Currys PC World’ in red over his tit.
Jed goes, ‘Ya beauty’ when I read out Bertha’s first post. Jed’s Bertha’s number one fan so he is.
I goes, ‘Mair might have made a mistake an’ all. Left those bastards’ details on a document.’
‘Naw,’ says Connor. ‘Me and you’ve read through that shite how many times? I think we’d mebbe have noticed a minor detail like the folks’ names and address?’
‘Aye, well, we need to check again. And we need to check we’re no missing any documents – anything where Mair might have left crap uncensored. We need to check we’ve been sent everything we’re entitled to. Connor son, get all the shite out, aye?’
He goes to the sideboard and gets out the pile of papers and dumps them on the table next my chair. ‘Right then. See yous later.’
‘Throw a sickie, son, and gies a hand here. Get on the net and check what all we’re entitled to get sent.’
Connor sighs but he gets out his phone.
On top of the pile there’s my scrapbook with our articles. While Connor’s coughing down the phone, I take a wee look at the Daily Mail one with the big photy of me and Jed on the settee. Settee looks dead nice. That was right after we got it and it’s like something out a showhome, pure white and shiny. I’m in a black Laura Ashley top with lacy bits and Jed’s washed and shaved and in a brand new black cashmere jumper that covers his tats, most of them, and we’ve both got our sad faces on us. The caption says: ‘Devastated: Lorraine and Jed Johnson.’ The article goes on about how our wee angel was torn from our arms, just because our daughter was mentally ill, and quotes me saying how Social Work failed to inform us of meetings and that.
Media campaign turned out pish but.
And brought the nutters out the woodwork, mad bastards giving it You people should all be sterilised, and there was this Holy Mary kept posting on the Get Bekki Back page on Facebook wanting to know if we’d been saved by Jesus and saying we should pray for Bekki and trust in the fucking Lord.
I sort out all the letters and documents sent us by the Council, and Connor gets a list of what all we’re entitled to, and we read and cross-check all through the One O’Clock News and Reporting Scotland. I dinnae even bother turning over for Home and Away. I dinnae even stop for my lunch.
‘Looks like we’ve got everything, Maw. And there’s no address or that on any of this. That’s for definite.’
I goes, ‘Fuck it.’
‘Worth a try though, eh?’
‘Aye. Fuck it, but.’
Jed wakes back up and turns over and reaches for his fags, effing and blinding. Was a time, eh, when he’d no just limit hisself to mouthing off – he’d come at me. I was a fucking doormat by the way, daft wee bint that I was, but the first time he made to raise his hand to a babby I told him – you fucking touch that wean and we’re outta here. Aye he maybe skelped them when they was older, but only when they was out of order. Anything more than that and he knew I wouldnae stand for it. And any road, most of the time the kids were growing up, thank Christ, his arse was under lock and key in Barlinnie.
‘Wait a wee minute,’ I says to Connor. ‘Wait a wee fucking minute! This could still be the way to go. Forget Facebook. Forget the press. It’s the fucking system has what we want, aye? It’s the fucking system can tell us where Bekki is?’
Jed flicks his lighter, and says round his fag: ‘Like they’re gonnae go, “Oh aye Lorraine-hen, here you go, here’s Bekki’s address, you only had to ask, hen.”’
‘Shut it, you! What I’m saying is, we can get it out them if we’re a wee bit sleekit-like.’
‘Aw Christ, Maw.’ Connor’s sitting on the carpet with the Rotty, pushing his fingers through the dug’s hair. ‘Next time it’ll no be just a caution, eh?’
A couple years back I phoned up Mair pretending to be those bastards who’ve got Bekki, all Hello Ms Mair, sorry to bother you, it’s Bekki’s mum, I just wanted to check you’ve got our current address. But Mair goes To whom am I speaking, please? and course I didnae know their fucking name. And they traced the fucking call.
Jed goes, ‘Never mind all that shite. Give me five minutes with Mair. Five minutes. I swear to God.’
‘Aye, and that’s Mair got another excuse to get the polis on us.’
‘She’ll no be making any calls to the polis after I’ve paid her a wee visit.’
‘You cannae touch her, Da,’ says Connor.
‘No wonder folk cannae credit he’s a Johnson, eh? If he didnae have your fucking ears’ – I point at Connor – ‘I could maybe fantasize I’d been Rohypnol-ed by some fucker on this scheme whose DNA’s half way to fucking normal.’ I eat a bit scone. ‘Right then, listen up. The most successful scams, they Nigerian email scams and that – what is it they’re counting on?’
‘Folk being eejits,’ says Connor.
‘Aye, and? This is the best ones I’m on about, the ones folk fall for.’
Connor shakes his head. ‘Maw, you’re no –’
‘They use. The fact. That every bastard is feart o’ scams.’
And now Connor’s got a wee smile on his face. He cannae help it.
He’s a Johnson right enough.