Sarah soon learned, to her horror, that the DSS were pursuing her for the repayment of their stated overpayment to her in respect of the three years that she had supposedly lived with the sly spite-driven Gregory Potter.  It came to a cool £16,824.53.  She had a month to appeal.  The oddest thing was that the news had been delivered to her in a window envelope yet her identity could not be seen!  How then did it get safely delivered to her door?

            Despite her deep distrust of her solicitor, and because of her blind panic about this latest news and the mediocre time span in which to respond, she contacted Jimmy O for advice.

            He expressed his ‘grave concerns’ and told her that she must now carefully think back to all the weeks that she could remember staying at Greg’s and he with her and to jot it all down as this would form the basis of our appeal.

            “What about the tape?  Can I have it to help me recall the dates?  You must have it by now…. You did request it, didn’t you?” said the client.

            But Jimmy Oliver was non-committal on whether he was or wasn’t in possession of it.  He said:

            “Forget about the tape; just concentrate your mind back on the three years that you had a relationship with Greg.”

            “But?” Sarah protested.

            “No buts, get the tape out of your head for now; just forget about it.”

            So she dutifully did and she submissively made a note as accurately as possible of all the times spent in each of the houses during the period in question.  Once completed, they were submitted to her solicitor for him to lodge her appeal.

In the interim Sarah was once again summoned in front of the benefits official Joseph Drinkwater and interrogated again under caution on tape.  At the end of the gruelling affair, she was bullied into paw-marking her permission for them to scrutinize all of her utilities bills from the day she met hideous Greg Potter up to date.

Greg continued with his sabre rattling and Sarah soon discovered that Parental Responsibility very definitely did mean something.  It gave her offensive ex the right to sit in with his equally odious solicitor Kelvin Boor on all future Child Care Conferences and blissfully witness the fate of the babies and the crucifixion of their mother.  It also gave hideous Greg Potter an opportunity to further aggravate Sarah via medical means.

            Mr Nauseating decided he’d felt a lump on Jason.  An appointment was made for a check up with the GP whereby Mr Nuisance insisted on being present also.  The doctor found no such thing.  It came as no surprise to Sarah. On another occasion Greg was supposed to take Jason for his vaccinations as inoculation appointments fell on Greg’s contact day.  However, and not surprisingly, Gregory ‘forgot’ or found some other excuse not to take his son - three times.  In the end Sarah had to make special arrangements for another day.  At other times he’d take the children to the GP unnecessarily bleating: nappy rash, bruising, rashes.... Of course, according to her adversary, all of it was Sarah’s fault although doctors did tell him that he was over-reacting.  When the babies developed colds, impetigo, thrush.... the blame was laid firmly at Sarah’s door.  He even went as far as rushing the babies off, on numerous occasions, to the hospital A&E department and banging on to nurses, ward sisters, welfare officials.... anyone who would listen, about Sarah’s abuse of the children.  He told them all about the heavy involvement of social services, the NSPCC, the health visitor and the educational social worker.  He bleated about the ‘at risk’ registration and about the hospitalisation of Jess because of “burns”.  And ultimately all of it would end up back on the desks of Meg and Daph for them to dutifully come flocking around to knock on Sarah’s door demanding urgent clarification.

            Then there was the regular pattern of Greg ‘forgetting’ to return essential medications.  The welfare officer and social workers made a very useful suggestion for Sarah to ask Greg to sign for the exchange of medication.  They forgot that men like Greg never co-operate, even when health issues are at stake.  He simply stuck two fingers up at her whenever she requested that he sign her notes.  Then she had the hassle of requesting repeat prescriptions because she could hardly go banging on Greg’s door!  

            Of course this little snag didn’t surface on Val’s welfare report.  All the welfare officer could insipidly state was that “due to acrimonious relations between the parents, Jason and Jessica visited their doctor perhaps more often than was actually necessary.”  And Val reported “each blames the other for cuts, bruises, marks.... on both children, the purpose being for both parties to disparage each other in court.” 

            And there lay another glaring lie.  Sarah was genuinely worried about the care and safety of her babies whilst they were with their father.  This was not about trifling bickering in court.  She was long past caring about such nonentities as ‘evidence’ for court.  She was simply trying to defend the FACTS when he repeatedly marched her children to the medics, made untrue statements and ordered his wheeler dealer lawyer to barrage her with accusatory letters.  And in any case, as far as she was concerned, the court, police, council and welfare experts had already all shamefully betrayed her and her kids.  Children’s welfare was an issue that they cared nothing about.  She knew that the truth was that it wouldn’t matter if Greg brought her babies home after beating them black and blue, he’d still get his regular unsupervised sessions, all courtesy of the child welfare supremos. 

            Nothing in the report cited Greg as being awkward either.  It was all cleverly disguised as there being difficulties between the parties and the responsibility lying with both of them.

            Jessie did return from visitation with a very sore, weeping patch on her tiny body on two separate occasions, which did look suspiciously like a burn.  Her doctor felt that Jess had impetigo but wasn’t one hundred percent sure as it can be very difficult to diagnose. It was the fact that the injuries happened [both times] whilst Greg was in charge of the babies that disturbed Sarah.  Maybe it was just coincidence.  There’d always be a question mark.  Naturally Greg had got to the doctor’s first with her wounded child, ranting that Sarah was to blame and making sure that social services were made aware.... and pronto.  None of the welfare workers shared Sarah’s anxieties and they didn’t sympathise with her.  In fact they were still siding with opprobrious Greg Potter and it was Sarah who copped the questioning and doubt.  This was even the case when Meg and Daph noticed Jason head banging during one of his afternoon naps.  They didn’t appear to believe that such disturbing behaviour was brought on because of contact sessions with his father. 

            Sarah wondered how long she could walk the tightrope without toppling off.    

Greg continued to drink.  He turned up reeking of alcohol a few times.  Even Val could smell it on him on one occasion and did say so in one of her reports.  He also frequently drove like a bat out of hell with her babies aboard, sometimes because he was in a foul temper and sometimes simply to show off.  It didn’t matter why, he was being irresponsible towards himself, her babies and other road users but none of it concerned Greg - he was a law unto himself, the heavenly holder if immunity status.  Then there were the times that he slapped her across the face when he wanted extra time with the babies due to some ‘special occasion’ or other and Sarah had refused, preferring to stick to strict court arrangements.  Now that he wasn’t obliged to see the babies in a supervised setting, he felt relaxed about returning to his normal thuggish behaviour. 

            At other times he’d ‘forget’ to return some item of clothing of her babies such as a jumper or coat.  Sometimes he pushed her about and threatened her and angrily snatched the babies from her when they clung on to her sobbing and wanting to stay with their mum and thus making them all the more distressed.  Sarah was seriously considering asking the church if it could be used as a pick up/drop off point with a third party present to supervise the show but she decided to toughen it out a while longer hoping things would improve.

Of course Greg wasn’t always on the warpath.  There were the days when he was remarkably mild mannered and affable.  And he could still bung on the gentle boyish charm, begging forgiveness and pleading for a date with her - just to talk - maybe a meal together at his place or a day out with all the kids.  He’d gently remind her that she had a lot on her plate what with all the juvenile aggro and hassles with social services and he’d offer to ‘protect’ her just like old times. 

            He’d tease her about little things such as the spirits that she’d encountered and he’d make innocent remarks about her hatred for the police and constant phoning of them.  It was somewhat perplexing because he wasn’t supposed to know such detail.  He casually remarked that gossip travels fast and that he knows people but the point was he knew too much.  Even Valerie Nuttall, herself surprised, informed Sarah on a few occasions that Greg knew just about her every move.  She even reported it and the fact that he had admitted to her that he felt the need to have her watched. 

            Nevertheless the lighter atmosphere was a welcome change to the constant sharpening of knives.  But the respite was only short-lived, for immediately after the rebuff came the angry aggression, resentment and menacing intimidation.  Sarah wasn’t about to trust the wolf in sheep’s clothing; not on any level.  What in the world had his mother done to him as a young boy to turn him into this frightening ogre?  It was a question she’d asked herself a thousand times.

            He loved to mess her about.  There were the times that his car wouldn’t start or there’d be some other hiccup and he’d request at the last minute a different contact day [after she’d waited in a while waiting for him.]  Of course the legal requirements obliged her to comply.  Yet somewhere down the bumpy track it would emerge in a statement that she’d been the bloody-minded one, causing all sorts of inconvenience.  Sarah was even bombarded with an assortment of solicitor’s letters notifying her [often when it was overtime] that the ‘prince of falsehoods’ was unable to see his children for whatever duration because he had to go away unexpectedly.  Yet she always saw the pathetic weasel in his brand new motor crawling at a snail’s pace past her house, spying!

During one of the now many heated exchanges between Sarah and her solicitor, he regally pointed out to her that it is unethical to expect the taxpayer to foot the bill for a legal argument that was seemingly never going to reach a conclusion.  This again implied that she was the baddie by not agreeing to substantial contact.  It didn’t seem to occur to her all of a sudden ‘moral’ solicitor that if they were talking ethics, such a case should never have been brought to court in the first place; Potter should be doing time.... And in any case the fact of the matter was that the legalities were dragging on, not because of her, but because there was, as yet, no conclusion with the absurd ‘Comprehensive Risk Assessment’.   In fact the assessment had barely begun!  Jimmy O boomed:

            “The way we are going may be detrimental to your legal aid continuing.  It isn’t paid forever you know and I have to account for all my legally aided clients’ decisions.  You can’t pussyfoot around. We’re getting nowhere here.”

            “Well I wish you were as conscientious where other matters are concerned,” Sarah skitted.

            He then dropped the biggest bombshell on her thus far declaring that she should seriously consider accepting joint residence:

            “Let’s face it your chances of being awarded residence are down to fifty-fifty now.  Greg could quite conceivably be given custody and your contact with your babies could be virtually reduced to zilch.  BUT, you could remove that risk by offering such a deal.  That way any judge would recognise that despite the council’s opinion that your children are at risk from you, Greg would be admitting, by virtue of his agreement to joint residence, that he believes you to be a fit and proper parent.”

            Snookered again by a clever conniving solicitor and all because of that bloody ‘At Risk’ classification.  The sodding council needed shooting!

            Jimmy O then began his [by now] all too familiar lies by trying to convince her that it didn’t mean that she and Greg would get the same amount of time each with Jason and Jessica; for example one week on, one week off etc.

            Sarah butted in, bellowing, “In my book joint means joint, fifty-fifty.  You can mish-mash your words as much as you want but if I was stupid enough to agree to that, I’d be telling everyone that everything I’ve said about Greg so far and all my fears was just one big lie.  Well I’m not a liar and…. KNICKERS to your deals.  I’m through with your thoroughly useless strategy.  I’m convinced that you, Mr Oliver, have been leading me a merry dance.  Where are those records that you’ve been promising me for months now?”

            Oliver paled and said nothing.

            “No I didn’t think you’d turn up trumps.  I’ve been doing some checking out of my own and I’ve discovered that you’ve been lying to me - you haven’t made one phone call; not one enquiry to anyone in an effort to track them down for me.  I do not trust you.  If legal aid will not allow me to change to a decent female solicitor, I’d be far better off representing myself.  You seem to be just another player in this whole sordid Gregory Potter secret alliance affair.  Well shame on you, you disreputable and dangerous little man.  You’re no different than those other grubby little men sniffing around in the dark, fixing things unprofessionally and illegally.  I hope you choke on your conscience and I hope that one day the taxpayer gets wind of all this.” 

            And with that she took to her heels and flounced out of Jimmy Oliver’s office for the last time. 

            She heard him belching after her, “The reason that you are in so much trouble with social services, police and the DSS is because you are a disrespectful non-conformist.  Your sin was to attack the Authorities.”

            Half way down the corridor, she barked back:

            “My what?  You’ve seen nothing yet.  I have barely begun.”

The social worker sessions came to be an all-out ding-dong affair.  There was always a chill wind blowing.  Sarah was very much aware of how the world worked and how she should be playing the unspoken card game of life.  She knew that she wasn’t doing her case any good with the constant chipping away at the authorities.  Her kids would be forever registered ‘at risk’ and she’d be forever hounded by the state’s devotees.  She knew what she had to do to limit the damage, get the kids de-registered and fight a stronger fight in court for the right to keep her babies.  She knew all this and she did try very hard to bite her tongue for everyone’s sakes but it never worked out that way. There always seemed to be an invisible superpower - a controlling force - that took over and made her speak her mind.  She guessed it must be for righteous reasons and whether God or his angels were momentarily talking for her or not, she couldn’t be sure, but what she did know was that her aggressive words flowed out uninhibited, like big belches of orange flame. 

            During one typical fiery interaction with Daph and Meg when they had feebly commented that politicians will always be liars and self-servers and that you can’t change them, Sarah pounced.  She explained that turning a revolutionary situation into a revolution is a natural transition.  She said:

            “When people are so poor, so desperate, so hungry.... they will demand food.  They don’t care about budgets, taxes, share values.... The government better not forget who rules when it is time for a show down.  Folk will riot, loot, take what is rightly theirs.  The real criminals and thieves - the government and her sister office departments will pay the ultimate price.”

            The social workers gave their usual limp “there’s nothing we can do about it” patter.  Meg said, “Governments can’t be responsible for all of life’s evils.  There are such huge social problems such as drug addiction and alcoholism.”

            “Exactly,” enthused Sarah.  “But there’s no reason why both alcohol and drugs cannot be wiped off the face of the Earth.  Crime would be virtually non-existent and people would be a lot happier, healthier and civil to one another.  The reason why it can never happen is partly because the lobbyists are too big and powerful.  The other reason is because governments rely on the revenues from such nefarious substances.  While we have such wicked men in power condoning the use and spread of dangerous materials whilst publicly and hypocritically denouncing them and announcing a clamp down on illegal activities and criminal behaviour in relation to them, the world will always be in a state of disrepair and shock.  And in any case if drugs were legalised, the black market would disappear and so too would the crime.”

            “The problem is just too big,” bleated Meg.

            “Yeah, so you pick on the solitary, lowly souls instead,” snarled Sarah.  “The money men and men of high office who huddle together for protection are such cowards.

They should shake the devil off and walk alone and with their heads held high.  How long do the supremos think they can keep the sinking ship afloat?  Look, the police are now recruiting criminals, the NHS is in decline, doctors and nurses are leaving in droves, teacher morale is at rock bottom....  If it wasn’t so farcical it’d be almost funny.  Their solution is to spin it.  How much spin do they think they can get away with?  The guilty men at the top get paid heaps to be FAILURES and when they get booted out in disgrace, they get another HUGE payoff!  What’s right about that? 

            And you tell me what’s right about an estimated government building costing say £10m to build rising to about £50m by the end?  Joe Public is expected to just dig into his pocket and pay up - no questions asked.  Jesus if you’d borrowed that from a bank and then went back asking for five times that amount to finish the job, you’d be told that you’d mismanaged your funds and were just plain extravagant.  Then you’d be told to get lost without receiving a penny more!  Why then can officials dip into the big bottomless honey pot and remain completely unanswerable?”

            “Well, that’s not our problem,” decided Daphne.  “Our problem is your children.  You shouldn’t talk to them so openly about the world’s wrongs and about how bad Greg is or they’ll grow up with very negative feelings.  That’s why they should be in school - so they get a more balanced perspective - you know someone else’s outlook of life.  Anyway, kids should be taught to look up to people in authority but many don’t have a good role model at home and are not taught right from wrong; so they go off the rails.”

            “You want me to pretend that wrongdoing and impropriety don’t exist?  You want me to shut up about it; sweep it under the carpet?  Sorry, that might be your policy but I’m more honest than you.  Anyway, actions speak louder than words.  I’m doing my kids a service by treating them as mature little individuals who have a right to know the TRUTH about people and the environment, no matter how painful the facts may be.  Would you prefer that I’d stayed engaged to Greg Potter and just allowed him to abuse my kids?  I don’t brainwash them or pretend.  And in any case they’ve formed their own opinion about the authorities.  It isn’t a very nice one.  They think that the powers that be are not deserving of respect and are just one big expensive joke.  Are you saying that I should talk my son into believing that he started that fire just because the police and fire officials say that he did?  Am I supposed to call my kids liars because a police officer accused them of being in grave danger from rough seas when they said they weren’t and I have enough evidence to prove that the police and council officials are the liars.  My kids know more about right and wrong than all the various bodies of officials lumped together.”

            Meg commented, “Well we all want to think the best about our kids but most kids lie at some point.”

            Sarah sighed, “Why oh why do you always blame the kids?  Why can’t you face the facts?  The world today is a tragedy waiting to happen.  Dominoes of death are all lined up waiting to fall.  The build up to world wipe out is gaining speed.  It is the battle of good against bad.  Can’t you see the monopolisation all around us, the end of competition and fair trade?  The men in grey suits want us all on the dole and under their control. We have to resist.  We must teach them the error of their ways.  We must shout about wrongdoing and greed.  We must name and shame and whistle-blow.  The TRUTH and a gooey custard pie or meringue is much more effective any day for bringing a man down to Earth and reminding him how to behave, rather than sticking a gun in his head.  We must protest peacefully - all in the name of God and righteousness.

             We must look to the great leaders for guidance, such as Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandella, Gandi.... and we must observe the operations and principles of organisations such as Amnesty, Greenpeace and individuals such as David Shaylor, Alison Halford and Andrea Dworkin [protester against porn and prostitution.]  We should admire people like Lindis Perry, the single-handed, single-minded protester against multi nationals who felt so strongly that she did nine months in jail for her so-called ‘offence’.  Her ‘sin’ was putting up signs on a multi national’s land; one of which said, ‘There is something fundamentally wrong when one man’s unemployment generates another man’s wealth’.   Sorious Somara is another brave battler.  He worked all hours God sends in the worst jobs [the ones no-one else will do] to save enough money for a camcorder so that he could make his own films of the plight of the masses of black people trying to flee their brutal homelands.

            It takes the sheer determined courage of the few to force good changes for the many.  We should be forever indebted to them and pray to God for the guts to become like them.  It will be the one who doesn’t do deals, the one strong unyielding character amongst the few brave souls who finally leads the world to righteous rule.

            And we must pressure the governments of wealthy countries to stop the harmful emissions of gasses which pollute our planet and cause Global Warming.  We were all born equal and we are all entitled to our bit of the Earth’s resources.  They do not have the right to be greedy, control the wealth and in the doing destroy the Earth.  There’s nothing to fear in challenging evildoers.  We’re all going to die anyway.  The big question is where are we heading after death?  Believe me there is an after life.  The sons of darkness do not have much time to save themselves.  But if they were to die spilling the beans, they will have booked their place on a happy, heavenly plane in the next world.”

            As she lectured, David and Anna walked in with mugs of tea and choccy biccys. Sarah smiled warmly at them and winked.  ‘Smart kids,’ she thought.  They’d done that on their own steam without any prompting from her.  The social workers looked a little sheepish as they sat in submissive silence.  Now in full flow, Sarah ranted on:

            “Terrorists are weak, cowardly thugs.  They do not fight for a cause; they kill and maim harmless civilians- babies, children and the unarmed and unprotected.  They daren’t touch the real villains - the men in government and positions of power.  Anyway, you can’t fight violence with violence because it just breeds more violence and only the innocent suffer.  Why should wives and children be targeted for their men folk’s sins?  You have to get to the root cause and speak the TRUTH; without which there can be no justice.  There must be no secret police, secret services, private armies.... and EVERYONE must listen to their conscience and be brave enough to obey it because God speaks to us that way.  Police officers and soldiers must stop listening to and obeying their corrupt masters and must step over to ‘our’ side and start protecting us and protesting with us.  People must realise that the Anti-Christ is coming to power.  He must be stopped.  Don’t you realise you have to work for God?  Through him we gain vital energy.  He will tread down our adversaries.”

            Sarah stopped abruptly as her eye caught sight of something quite significant outside through her living room window.  “Just look at that - one crow with two doves - one on each side of it.  That means good is rising up against evil.  The crow, who is the devil in disguise is outnumbered by the two doves - who are good forces of peace and love.  For cryin’ out loud, don’t go labelling me dotty just cos I’m pointing this out cos everyone knows that crows are destructive and dangerous - they pick at the eyes of new born lambs; whereas doves epitomize harmony and goodwill.” 

            But her instincts told her that Daph and Meg would of course try and use it against her.  What did she expect when they worked for unscrupulous, injurious men?  Sarah wasn’t getting any vibes yet from these women; that they might just turn on their superiors.  There wasn’t even the slightest hint of it, unfortunately.  Undaunted Sarah pressed on vehemently: 

            “Will you explain to me why the social services hierarchy spend an awful amount of time and energy causing grief for decent, dedicated families whilst ignoring the families who need social worker intervention?  Take the case of the Bramley family.  They were forced to flee because social services heavy weights wanted to take their fostered girls away for no other reason than bureaucratic SPITE.  A judge ruled that they were excellent, loving parents and their children happy and contented.  Social services could not give a reason as to why they felt the Bramleys were not suitable parents and therefore why their girls should be removed from them.  Don’t you think that is diabolical?”

            The two women nodded straight-faced and silent.

            “And that is not a one-off by far,” Sarah sprinted on.  “And what about the countless numbers who, so-described, ‘slip through the net’?  The ones who are dreadfully abused; close to dying even; and yet despite the fact that all the safety-net services are aware of their plight - the police, hospital staff, doctors, social workers, health visitors, educational welfare workers, teachers…. still they die! 

            And why do social services tell such disgraceful lies about home-educated kids, just to win their case in court so that the kids are forced back into school?  I know that this goes on quite frequently.  Is it because we’re different?  Are we considered a threat?  If a kid is home educated, the chances are that such a kid is the one least likely to need a social worker.  But it’s never about TRUTH, is it?  How can kids grow up learning right from wrong and respecting those in positions of trust and authority when everything is at odds with what it should be?  The majority of us live in a sick, insane world.  How is any kid supposed to make sense of it all and grow up normal?  Many don’t.  Is it any wonder that many of them turn out depressed, angry, frustrated, unemployable, criminal, drug/alcohol/solvent dependent…. ?

            I saw a documentary last night about the possibility of the lunar landings being a fake.  There is compelling evidence that man did not land on the moon and that NASA are liars.  Time will tell.  I just wish more kids were allowed to learn at home and become thinkers and challengers.  Maybe then we wouldn’t have so many liars, thieves, self-servers.... in power.  School crushes kids’ spirits.

            And social services crush the most vulnerable people in society.  Look at the cock-up they’ve made of the fostering/respite scheme.  I’ve seen so-called ‘special needs’ children behaving like frustrated, caged animals; totally out of control.  Social workers have tried to tell me it’s a medical condition so they make the kids ‘spaced-out’ on pills to make them easier to manage.  Well, you can’t expect a pill or a band aid to fix a problem as complex as a child; especially a mixed up one.  You have to get to the root cause and you have to remove the bad influence. 

            Such kids have come to me on a Friday for respite care unable to sit still even for one minute and yet by the Sunday they are calm and relaxed and can sit still for an hour or so watching TV.  I once spoke to the foster mother of such a child.  I found out that the girl was so much happier and well-behaved when she was fostered but, against the girl’s wishes, she was forced to go back to her wicked mother just because that mother wanted to claim benefits and extra cash because of her child’s ‘special needs’ status.  What on Earth are social services playing at?  That little girl used to smear her faeces on her bedroom walls and toys because of her unhappy home life.  She would spit and swear relentlessly; she tore her hair out until she had bald patches and she nibbled at her nails continuously until her fingers bled.”

            Meg butted in, “Well we are aware that some things are not as they should be.  The system can never be perfect.  And we know that some people are approved as foster-carers when we know that they are unsuitable and vice versa.  And we know that some children would be better off fostered rather than with their parents.   But that’s just the way it is, I’m afraid.  It isn’t a perfect world.  You’re not gonna get one.”

            “Not with that kind of attitude, no,” condemned Sarah. “The system is structured to keep the likes of Mr Snakey and his cronies in their cushy, well-paid prestigious positions.  How can they and all the other so-called public servants unblushingly collect their big pay cheques, bonuses, privileges and praise when all around them is mourning and mayhem?  Social services block good, caring people from adopting and fostering with the excuse that they are: too old, too fat, the wrong colour, the wrong nationality, the wrong sex, living in the wrong house.... The TRUTH is that the underworld; call it the Mafia, RULE - for their own purposes.  They rule in a grubby, underhand, sinister way.”

            Daphne scoffed, “I think you’ve been watching too many late night political thrillers.”

            “You may be blind to reality but make no mistake, nothing is as it seems.  Something sinister is simmering in the background,” retorted Sarah.

Sarah began to develop stress-related illnesses.  It wasn’t really surprising with the amount of performances she had to give either to a one person audience or a roomful of them.  She also had to contend with the ever beady eye of the mighty Local Education Authority who made their presence known every now and again.  Thankfully though, meetings with their inspectors so far had been very positive.  Even so, there was always the worry that they might change their minds and start to give her hassle.  She lived in fear of the ‘curse’ spreading to them.

            She fought off one thing after another - colds, coughs, earaches, throat aches, backaches, shoulder aches, neck-aches, abscesses, sickness and everything that the kids picked up.  Was it all the work of the devil?

            Her illnesses didn’t sneak up on her like a thief in the night and she fought like hell to beat off each one as it attacked her.  It was important that she didn’t run to her GP for antibiotics because she knew that since news travels fast, her enemies would be delighted that she was weakening.  It would be a perfect reason for them to remove her children into care - to give her a bit of a break.  So she kept her discomfort to herself by day and meditated rigorously at night.  She also prayed every night, begging God to help her hang on to her children and for them all to survive this ordeal.

The MP Gerry Turner called at her house.  She was pleasantly surprised to have a man of his standing sitting in her living room and even more surprised that he afforded her one hour of his time and more surprised still that he was actually attentive, understanding and supportive.  He agreed that the registration had unfairly stigmatised her and that it would crop up in the future and pose various problems for her.  He expressed his shock that her kids were registered so abruptly, particularly as she’d worked for social services as a much-needed and valued carer of ‘special needs’ children.  Gerry Turner informed her that he’d write to the chief executive of the council asking them to consider a little more closely if it was really necessary for the children to remain registered ‘At Risk’.  As he made his departure he made a comment to her in hushed tones:

            “You’re a bit of a thorn in the council’s side.”

            Sarah was taken aback by that.  How odd!  How come he knew so much?  Her curiosity didn’t last long though.  The happy, relieved feeling inside her took over.  At last someone with a bit of clout was actually on her side.  Maybe there was some light in the tunnel after all.

            With a smile and a glint in her eye, she replied to the exiting MP:

            “I intend to become a gorse bush.”

            Inside, she pondered the MP’s words.  Yes it was true she was attacking the Authorities and of course they didn’t like being put on trial but the reality was Sarah was only trying to help them.  She wanted them to realise that their attitude and ignorance and that of all the other self-seeking, heedless, brain-dead leaders would eventually plunge everyone [including themselves] towards rack and ruin.  But they weren’t that smart.  Their egos were too big.  In their eyes, Sarah was something that needed to be stood on and squashed, like an insect, until it was still and silenced. 

Virtually every time Sarah walked out of the house, grisly Greg Potter never seemed far away. He’d either be just driving past, parked on her road or walking into the corner shop at the top of her road.  On one particular day she’d received an urgent call from David who was stranded in a newsagents in town.  David and Anna were unable to walk home because they were being threatened by one of the well-known gangs in Caroline Bay.  The two leaders, Hollow Head and Onion, both two years older than David, had six pals with them.  It was too risky for them to leave the safety of the shop alone.

            Sarah popped the babies in their double buggy and charged into town. 

            “Oi, why are you in such a hurry?” enquired hideous Gregory Potter.  “Is everything alright, love?”

            He was sat in his car at the top of her road, pretending to read a newspaper.  She grimaced, said nothing to him, fixed her gaze ahead, picked up her pace and continued on her way.  When she reached her older children, the gang had dispersed and they were all able to walk home safely.  However, less than an hour later, Meg turned up at her door unexpectedly.

            “Hi Sarah.  I’m sorry to spring up on you like this but Mr Potter has just been in the office saying how worried he is about Jason and Jessica.  He said that you’re off your head, that you’ve been screaming blue murder - eff-ing and blinding and running hell-for-leather down the town.  He said that the pram almost turned over and that the babies were sobbing ‘in fear’.  I must talk to you about this.”

            “Look, Gregory Potter is an out and out evil bare-faced liar.  Yes I did have to dart out. I had to fly to my older kids’ aid cos they were being bullied by the town yobs again.  But my babies were never in any danger.  I was walking briskly only and I did not shout or scream.  That snake is watching me.  He’s never far away.  Why won’t you do something about him?”

            “Well, it’s difficult to know who to believe.  Greg is so plausible.  He’s only concerned about his children, you know.”

            “Rubbish!  He’s nothing but a vicious, smooth-tongued conman.  I keep telling you he’s not concerned, he’s just using Jason and Jessica as weapons to get back at me.  Why can’t you see the slug for what he is?”

            “Well, I have to give him a fair hearing.  I have told him that he must discuss his concerns with you but he maintains that he can’t talk to you because you immediately fly off the handle and get all abusive,” explained the social worker.

            “Well he would say that, wouldn’t he?”

            Meg continued, “I have been to his house a couple of times to tell him that he is over-reacting but he then flies into a rage and accuses us of not taking any appropriate action.”

            “Well he would, wouldn’t he?” commented an exasperated Sarah.

            “So, I’ve told him that if he isn’t happy, he can send in an official complaint.  I have told him that his constant complaints and nitpicking won’t get him anywhere.  Oh, don’t worry, I don’t listen to everything that he bothers us with.  In fact a lot of it is not something social services would get involved in anyway.”

            Sarah breathed a sigh of relief.  “That sounds like music to my ears.  At least you realise that he is a bit of a nuisance.  That’s a start.”

Anna took a bad fall as she tripped up over a rock on the driveway.  Her ankle ended up in plaster.  All Sarah could think about was whether she’d be blamed for her daughter’s injury and if she’d be labelled a child abuser.  It was terrible to have to go through life on a knife edge, forever watching out for heavy weight officials and having to explain everything all of the time.  Sure enough Meg and Daphe got wind of it before she had a chance to mention it and, yes, she was questioned in depth about it under close scrutiny.  Sarah got a chilled feeling that they weren’t convinced that it was an accident.  She was also grilled about taking Jason and Jessica in her dad’s car without using baby seats.  Greg had apparently been in their office again complaining and he’d also reported the matter to the police.  Sarah had to explain that it was a one-off but that in any case her dad’s car was classed as a taxi because he was a community driver.

And so the pattern continued.  Something quite ordinary and innocent would happen or would be about to happen and later Sarah would either be questioned about it in the context of a suspicious element or Greg would bring it up in an uncomfortable, knowing sort of way.  For example, Sarah had an appointment with a female solicitor in another town.  Before she’d even boarded the bus, Greg snarled:

            “Hope you enjoy your bus ride and your meeting with Miss Davina Harris.”

            Sarah gasped, “How do you know?”

            Smiling sickly sweet, Greg said, “I know everything you do where my children are concerned.  You forget, sweetie-pie; I’ve got special status.  Oh by the way your Miss Harris hasn’t got a cat in hell’s chance of winning against our Kel.  He’s one of the old boys network.... if you get my drift.”

            “Oh, why don’t you and your Kel just eff off.”

            “Ahh, I’ve got that on tape, luvvie duck.  I’ll be giving this to the court,” and he produced a small conference-style tape recorder from his jacket pocket. 

            Sarah glared at him and spewed,  “Oh, stick your stupid tape recorder in your gob,” before she stormed inside.

On another occasion, Greg taunted, “You should watch that kid of yours on his bike more carefully you know.  Only my mate Jacko from the pottery shop saw him come crashing off it and sprawling into the middle of the road.  Could’ve ended up under the wheels of a juggernaut or something.  I’m only telling you this cos I wouldn’t want anything nasty to happen to the little lad.”

            “More like I’m to expect another visit from social services,” spat Sarah.  “Why don’t you just go and slither back into that smelly sewer that you just sneaked out from?”

            The trouble was, David did topple off his bike in exactly that spot; although not in quite the dramatic way Greg had described it.  David had in fact wobbled off onto the pavement.  But the point was her kids and herself were definitely the all-consuming focus of Greg potter’s attention, and that was unnerving.  Sure enough, Meg made a special visit to grill her about it. 

            “We’ve had an anonymous call from a lady who is dreadfully concerned about David.  Actually the call was made to Child-line.  The lady stated that David was cycling in the middle of the road and that he almost collided with an oncoming truck.  The vehicle had to swerve at the last minute to avoid him.”

            “These are just more horrible, ugly lies.  And they’re not from an anonymous person, they’re from Mr Evil-features; probably via his daughter or sister.”

            “Well you know we have to check out all referrals.  We’ll have to speak to David about this.... on his own.” 

Not long afterwards, the ‘king of slime’ cornered her again.  He gloated, “You and Anna

were seen earlier on by Safeways’ traffic lights, rolling around rat-arsed.  Anna had an

inflatable hammer.  Some people I know had seen her stealing it from one of the stalls on the prom.”

            “Yeah, I get it; more social workers.  This is all going to backfire on you one day, Greg.  Just you watch.  God I hope those poor kids of yours, Kim and Lee, will one day find the strength to stand up to you and tell everyone the truth,” Sarah balled back.  Obviously he’d been spying on her again.  She had walked past those lights from the Mayday prom fair but she hadn’t been drinking and yes, Anna did carry such a hammer but it had been WON.

            “My kids can’t stand you,” bellowed Greg thrusting his fiery red face into hers.  “They call you a lying, fat cow.  They say you should hurry up and see those psychiatrists that you’re supposed to be seeing.”

            That evening an out-of-hours social worker arrived on her doorstep.

            “Sorry Ms Hawthorne, we’ve had another urgent call from the NSPCC.  Two people called this time, both at different times but with similar stories.  One caller