Читать книгу Too Scared to Tell - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 18

The rest of the day flew by with housework, my part-time clerical work and then preparing dinner for later, which I tried to do well in advance if there was a social worker visiting us after school. They often stayed for a number of hours, especially when a child was first placed, as there was always a lot to get through. I made a casserole, so it just needed popping in the oven half an hour before we wanted to eat. I messaged our Glass WhatsApp group to remind Adrian, Paula and Lucy that Oskar’s social worker was likely to still be here when they arrived home. Although they were used to finding strangers in our living room, I liked to forewarn them when possible, out of courtesy, really – it was their home, after all. Also, it minimized the chance of Lucy embarrassing herself with expletives if she returned home from a trying day at work. She loved working with the children at the nursery, but she didn’t always see eye to eye with the management and tended to let off steam when she first arrived home.

That afternoon as I drove to Oskar’s school, it crossed my mind that the men in the black car could be there again despite the Head Teacher speaking to them. But as I parked in my usual place a little way from the school and made my way towards the main gate there was no sign of them. Hopefully that was the end of it, although I was still puzzled and unsettled by their interest in Oskar.

The playground slowly filled with parents and carers waiting to meet their children from school. Miss Jordan had told me that Oskar had one good friend in school, and once he was more settled with us I would ask him if he would like to invite his friend home on a play date and to stay for tea. But for now, he was still adjusting to his new life with us.

The klaxon sounded from inside, signalling the end of school, and the classes began to exit the building with their form teachers. I saw Oskar straight away, standing beside Miss Jordan, and they appeared to be looking for me in the sea of faces. I gave a little wave. Miss Jordan spotted me, said something to Oskar and they came over.

‘Hello,’ she said with a smile. ‘Elaine told me about the car and she asked me to check everything is OK.’ She looked past me to the road outside. Oskar was looking too.

‘It’s not here,’ I confirmed. ‘Thank you for your help and thanks to the Head too.’

‘You’re welcome. I’m sure it’s dealt with, but let us know straight away if you are worried at all. I’ve told Oskar that he is safe in school and he must tell me if he sees the car again.’

‘Thank you,’ I said again. She was so caring and pleasant, as was the Head.

We said goodbye and Oskar slipped his hand into mine as we left the playground. Despite my assurance that the car wasn’t there, I saw him looking up and down the road as we walked. ‘It’s not here,’ I told him. ‘I’ve checked.’

He didn’t reply, but again I wondered why he was so worried if they were really friends of the family watching out for him. I would mention it to his social worker.

‘Andrew is coming to see us after school today,’ I told him as I opened the rear car door for him to get in. Oskar accepted this as he accepted most things – resolutely and in silence. ‘He will want to spend some time talking to you to make sure you’re all right,’ I continued as I started the car and pulled away. ‘Then you will probably be able to go off and play while he talks to me.’ This was the usual format of these visits, although so far Oskar hadn’t really shown much interest in ‘playing’. He’d done a jigsaw while I’d been talking on the telephone, but that was all. ‘Do you watch television at home?’ I asked him as I drove.

‘Sometimes,’ he said.

‘If you tell me what your favourite programmes are, I can stream them so you can watch them on the television or my tablet.’ He didn’t reply, so I asked, ‘What do you usually do in the evenings and at weekends?’

He thought for a moment and then said, ‘Get in my sleeping bag.’

I glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. ‘You mean like a camping sleeping bag?’

Silence and then, ‘I think so.’

‘Do you sleep in the sleeping bag at night or just use it during the day?’ Perhaps it was a game he played?

Another pause and then he said, ‘Both. I sleep in it.’

‘So you don’t sleep under a duvet like you do at my house?’ I asked.

I saw him shake his head and start to look worried. However, before I let the matter drop, I had one last question.

‘Oskar, do you sleep in a bed at your house?’

‘No. On the floor with the others.’

‘What others?’

But he’d withdrawn into his shell again and I made a mental note to mention this to his social worker too.

Once home, I fixed Oskar a drink and a snack to see him through till dinner. He wanted a bread roll and a banana with a glass of water. While he sat at the table eating, I set some toys in the living room together with my fostering folder, which contained my log notes, so I was ready for when Andrew arrived. I joined Oskar at the table with a mug of tea. Andrew knew we would be home by four o’clock and it was 4.30 now, so I was expecting him any time.

Oskar had just finished his snack when the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be your social worker,’ I said, standing.

He scrambled from his chair and, taking my hand, came with me to answer the front door.

‘Hello,’ Andrew said with a smile. ‘How are you both?’

‘Very well, thank you,’ I replied.

‘Shall I take off my shoes?’ he asked, coming in and seeing ours paired in the hall.

‘Yes, please, if you don’t mind.’ For hygiene and comfort we always take off our shoes when coming into the house, as do my extended family and friends, but some professionals don’t, they march straight in, effectively using our carpets as a doormat. I find it disrespectful, although I rarely say anything.

‘Would you like a drink?’ I asked Andrew.

‘Coffee, please.’

I showed him into the living room. Oskar was still holding my hand, so I gently eased it free and directed him to sit on the sofa. ‘You can talk to Andrew while I make him a coffee,’ I said. It was important Oskar got to know his social worker. ‘Milk and sugar?’ I asked Andrew.

‘Just milk, please.’

I left the two of them sitting on the sofa while I went into the kitchen. Sammy came in through the cat flap, ignored me and went into the living room to see who was there. I heard him meow and then Andrew asked Oskar what the cat was called. ‘Sammy,’ Oskar replied. ‘I’m allowed to feed him sometimes.’

I returned to the living room with Andrew’s coffee, set it on the table within his reach and asked him if he wanted to speak to Oskar alone. It’s usual for the social worker to spend some time alone with the child in case the child wants to raise something they don’t feel comfortable saying in front of the foster carer. It’s a strange feeling, being shut out in your own home, aware you are probably being talked about, but it’s something foster carers have to get used to.

‘You can stay for now,’ Andrew said. ‘Then I’ll see Oskar alone later.’ He took a sip of his coffee and I sat in one of the easy chairs opposite them, my fostering folder beside me, although many of the issues I needed to raise wouldn’t be in front of Oskar.

‘How are you settling in?’ Andrew asked Oskar. Setting down his cup, he took a notepad and pen from his briefcase.

‘OK,’ Oskar said with his characteristic small shrug.

‘Do you like having your own room?’ Andrew asked, turning slightly so he could see him better.

‘Yes,’ Oskar said in a slight voice.

‘I’ll have a look at your bedroom before I leave,’ Andrew said. ‘Do you sleep well?’

Oskar shrugged.

‘Surprisingly well so far,’ I said.

‘Good.’ He made a note. ‘What time does he go to bed?’

‘We start his bath and bedtime routine at around seven o’clock, so he is usually asleep by eight. I wake him at seven to get ready for school.’ Andrew was making notes. The social worker usually wanted to know the child’s routine.

‘And what about meals?’ he asked Oskar. ‘Do you have meals with the family?’

Oskar looked a bit unsure, so I said, ‘We all have dinner together in the evening.’

‘Are you having what you like to eat?’ Andrew now asked him.

Oskar gave a small nod.

‘He’s eating well,’ I said. ‘He chose some rolls yesterday that he liked and he’s been having those for breakfast. It would be useful to know what he eats at home with his mother and his likes and dislikes.’

Andrew wrote as he said, ‘When his mother returns, I’ll ask her.’

Oskar was now staring at his social worker at the mention of his mother, and Andrew saw this. ‘I’ve spoken to your mother on the telephone,’ he told him. ‘She will see you when she comes back. She’s with Luka now, but I think you know that, don’t you?’

Oskar nodded.

‘I’ve told your mother you are in foster care and are being well looked after. She is hoping to fly back this weekend if she can get a cheap flight. I’ll arrange for you to see her next week and tell Cathy the details, all right?’

Oskar gave another small nod and Andrew took a sip from his coffee. Oskar’s reaction to being told he would be seeing his mother next week was completely underwhelming and was very unusual for a child in care. Most children separated from their parent are ecstatic at the prospect of seeing them again.

‘Do you have any questions?’ Andrew asked him.

‘How is Luka?’ Oskar said.

‘He’s getting better and is back home with his aunt now.’ Andrew then looked at me. ‘Luka has cerebral palsy and is cared for by an aunt and her family. Oskar’s mother, Roksana, works here and sends money to the aunt to look after Luka. He’s been ill and had to go into hospital. Roksana wanted to see Luka and also had a money matter she needed to sort out.’

‘I see,’ I said. ‘What a worry for her. Does Oskar see his brother?’

‘Roksana said she takes him once a year at Christmas.’ Oskar was nodding. ‘Roksana can’t afford to go home any more frequently, but as this was an emergency she scraped together the airfare for her to go and left Oskar at home with friends he calls aunts and uncles. The childcare arrangements are a bit complicated and it’s something I’ll be discussing with Roksana when she returns.’

‘I see,’ I said, and wondered if I might have done the two men waiting outside the school a disservice.

‘Do you have any more questions?’ Andrew asked Oskar.

He shook his head.

‘Do you have everything you need to look after Oskar?’ Andrew now asked me. It was a standard question asked by the child’s social worker and my supervising social worker.

‘Yes, although some more background information would be useful.’

‘That reminds me,’ he said, dipping his hand into his briefcase. ‘I’ve got your copy of the placement forms.’ He took them out and passed them to me. I tucked them into my fostering folder to read later.

‘Your adult children live here too?’ he asked me, glancing at the framed photographs of them on the walls.

‘Yes. Adrian, Lucy and Paula. They’ll be back shortly.’

Andrew made a note. ‘And Oskar has age-appropriate self-care skills and is dry at night?’

‘Yes.’ It was another standard question; this type of information was needed for the report Andrew would write on his visit. He would also be observing Oskar in the placement and watching how he was settling in and relating to us – his foster family.

‘If Oskar could have more of his toys from home that would be good,’ I said.

‘Yes, of course,’ Andrew agreed as he wrote. ‘I’ll ask Roksana when she returns. But I can see you’ve got plenty of toys here in the meantime.’

I smiled. ‘Yes, I’ve been fostering a long time.’

‘What do you like playing?’ Andrew now asked Oskar.

He shrugged.

‘You did a jigsaw puzzle,’ I prompted, but Oskar didn’t add anything. ‘I’m still trying to find out what interests him,’ I told Andrew. ‘He likes a bedtime story, but he’s still wary of us all.’

It was only as I said this that I fully acknowledged just how true it was. Oskar was very wary around all of us, especially Adrian, more so than I would have expected or had experienced, and for reasons I couldn’t identify.

‘You like living here with Cathy and her family?’ Andrew asked Oskar, who was still sitting impassively on the sofa beside him.

‘Yes,’ he said in the same small voice.

Andrew looked at him. ‘What don’t you like?’

Oskar didn’t reply.

‘Is this a good time for you to have a chat with him alone?’ I asked Andrew.

‘Probably,’ Andrew said. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m going to see to dinner,’ I told Oskar as I stood.

He immediately looked anxious and was going to leave the sofa and come with me.

‘You stay with Andrew,’ I said. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen.’

‘Just five minutes,’ Andrew told him.

Oskar didn’t look very reassured but stayed with Andrew as I left the room. It occurred to me that the only person Oskar seemed really comfortable with was his teacher, Miss Jordan. What, I wondered, or rather who, had made him so suspicious of adults by the age of six?

Drawing the living-room door closed behind me so Andrew and Oskar could talk in private, I went into the kitchen, put the casserole in the oven and then went into the front room and sat at my computer. Andrew had said five minutes, but once they got talking it would likely be longer and I tended to make the most of any free time I had. I opened the file I’d been working on, but no sooner had I done so than a key went in the front door as Paula let herself in.

‘Hello, love,’ I said. ‘Oskar and his social worker are in the living room. Have you had a good day?’

‘Yes,’ she said. Slipping off her shoes and hanging her jacket on the hall stand, she came into the front room. I saved the file I was working on so we could talk.

A few minutes later the living-room door opened. ‘Cathy?’ Andrew called.

I went into the hall, and so too did Paula. Andrew and Oskar were standing at the far end.

‘Oskar is a bit anxious and wants to know where you are,’ Andrew said. Oskar actually smiled at Paula and looked pleased to see her, which was a first and positive.

‘This is my youngest daughter, Paula,’ I said, introducing her to Andrew.

‘Hello. Pleased to meet you. Perhaps you can look after Oskar while I talk to your mother,’ Andrew suggested.

‘Yes, if he’ll stay with me,’ Paula said.

I went to Oskar. ‘You can choose some games and puzzles from the toy cupboard and Paula will play with you while Andrew and I talk,’ I told him. Apparently, Oskar preferred this option to having to stay with his social worker, and he went with Paula into our kitchen-diner where the toy cupboards are as Andrew and I returned to the living room. I now hoped to learn more about Oskar and have some of my questions answered.