Читать книгу Finding Stevie: A teenager in crisis - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 14

Stevie stayed in his room until I called everyone for dinner. Adrian, Lucy and Paula were already seated at the table when Stevie (having been called twice) arrived. I think he’d waited until everyone was there so he could stage an entrance. Although he was wearing the same clothes – blue jeans and a yellow sweater – he now had a light blue silk scarf tied loosely around his neck, had painted his nails bright red and was wearing a lot more make-up.

‘This is Adrian,’ I said, introducing him to Stevie.

Adrian had never experienced any doubts about his gender and had a long-standing girlfriend, Kirsty. He could also be a bit conservative, which was no bad thing, but to his credit he just said, ‘Hello, Stevie, nice to meet you.’

‘And you.’ Stevie smiled charmingly.

Lucy on the other hand didn’t have the same reservations as Adrian, and sometimes there was no filter on her thoughts. ‘You’re never called Stevie!’ she cried, horrified, staring at him.

His face fell. Clearly he had wanted to be noticed, but in a positive way, and it was clear from his expression this wasn’t the reaction he’d anticipated. I must say I’d expected better from Lucy. I’ve tried to bring up my children to be non-judgemental and accepting of differences whether they are race, religion, physical or – as with Stevie – gender related.

I threw her a warning glance, which she either didn’t see or ignored.

‘You’re not really called Stevie, are you?’ Lucy persisted dramatically. ‘Please tell me it’s not true!’

The poor lad looked mortified and I was about to tell Lucy off when I realised what she meant. ‘Oh, Lucy. Stop it. Shall I tell him or will you?’

‘You can.’ She laughed.

Stevie was looking at me, worried and confused, as well he might. ‘Many years ago Lucy came to me as a foster child and stayed,’ I explained to him. ‘I wanted to adopt her, but her social worker at that time was against it. She felt she should live with a family that reflected her ethnicity.’ (Lucy has dual heritage, and I tell her story in Will You Love Me?). ‘Thankfully we had a change of social worker and the adoption went ahead. That first social worker was called Stevie. I had forgotten. It’s no criticism of you – Lucy just didn’t get on with her.’

Stevie gasped with relief and managed a smile. ‘My grandparents call me Steven, but I prefer Stevie.’

‘That’s fine,’ I said.

‘Can we eat now, Mum?’ Adrian asked patiently. ‘I’m starving.’

‘Yes, of course.’

I served dinner and everyone tucked in so all that could be heard for some minutes was the chink of cutlery on china. Lucy was sitting directly opposite Stevie and I saw her keep looking up at him. I had a good idea what she was thinking even before she said it.

‘Stevie, why are you wearing all that make-up?’ she asked at length, not rudely, but it was a forthright question, and probably one he’d heard before.

He didn’t take offence but, setting down his cutlery, he said, ‘It’s a statement about who I am. I see myself as gender-fluid, which means I haven’t got a fixed gender. That’s not to say I’m gay, although it’s possible, I haven’t decided yet. I’m trying to find out if I want to live my life as male or female, so at present I’m gender-fluid.’ I thought that, for a fourteen-year-old, he was very articulate in matters that deeply affected him.

‘So you’re making up your mind, right?’ Lucy asked him.

‘Yes, although I could stay gender-fluid all my life and not identify with either sex. Some days I feel more female than male, then it can change. Sometimes it can change during a day depending on who I’m with and what I’m doing.’

‘That must be confusing,’ Adrian remarked.

Stevie shrugged. ‘It would be more confusing for me if I pretended to be male all the time, like my grandparents want me to.’

‘Do you get bullied at school?’ Paula asked sensitively.

‘I used to,’ Stevie said, picking up his knife and fork again, ‘so I stopped going.’

I looked at him carefully. ‘Stevie, is that the reason you haven’t been attending school – because you were being bullied?’

‘Sort of,’ he admitted.

‘Did you tell anyone you were being bullied?’

‘My grandparents, but Grandpa said I needed to man up, and if I stopped behaving like a pansy I wouldn’t attract the bullies.’

Having met Fred, I could hear him say that – a flippant, simplistic solution – but his intolerance and lack of sensitivity obviously hadn’t helped Stevie, who was looking for support.

‘Did you tell your social worker you were being bullied?’ I asked.

‘No. I thought she would side with Grandpa and say I had to go to school.’

‘I’ll explain to Verity, and when we see your mentor tomorrow we’ll talk to her about what the school can do to help, all right?’

He shrugged and continued eating while I thought, Well done, Paula, for spotting that. Bullying was such an obvious reason for a child or young person refusing to go to school, especially for someone who stood out as being different, like Stevie. Bullying can make a child’s life a misery and all schools in the UK have an anti-bullying policy. But of course for it to be effective the school needs to be aware the bullying is taking place, and children often don’t want to admit they’re being bullied, feeling it is their fault. Unfortunately, Fred’s bigoted remarks had compounded that, but I was pleased that Stevie had been able to share it with us so I could help him.

‘OK,’ Lucy said, ‘I understand what you’re saying about the gender stuff, but why are you wearing so much make-up?’ Let it go, Lucy, I thought, you’ve made your point. ‘I mean, it’s too much,’ she continued. ‘It’s like you think that’s how girls should look. Most of us don’t. It’s so stereotypical, and as Mum tells us – when it comes to make-up, less is more.’

So she had been listening to me, I thought! I waited tentatively for Stevie’s reaction. I hoped he didn’t feel Lucy was getting at him, although what she’d said was true.

‘So you think I’m wearing too much make-up?’ he asked, as though it was a revelation.

‘Yes, I do, far too much. Don’t you think so, Paula?’

‘A little,’ she said diplomatically.

‘What about you, Adrian?’

‘I don’t know the first thing about make-up,’ he replied.

‘But Kirsty doesn’t wear a lot of slap, does she?’ Lucy persisted.

‘No,’ Adrian conceded.

Lucy returned her attention to Stevie. ‘If you like, I’ll show you how to apply make-up,’ Lucy offered. ‘I wanted to be a beautician once.’

‘Really? That would be wonderful!’ Stevie cried passionately.

‘I wouldn’t wear it for school, though,’ Adrian said.

‘No,’ Paula agreed. ‘Girls aren’t allowed to wear make-up in school, so that rule should apply to everyone.’

I felt rather proud of my family. Here they were, discussing this sensitive and unusual topic constructively and being supportive of Stevie. None of us had faced the challenges he had, so it was a learning curve for us all. The conversation now changed to other things, and once we’d finished eating everyone helped clear the table. Then Stevie asked Lucy, ‘Can you come up to my room now to show me how do my make-up?’

‘Yep, I can give you half an hour, then I have to watch EastEnders,’ she said.

‘I love that programme,’ Stevie enthused, clasping his hands together.

‘Stevie, can you bring your make-up down here and do it at the table?’ I said. Lucy knew why. It’s part of our safer-caring policy that young people aren’t alone in one of the bedrooms. Not because I didn’t trust them or imagined they’d get up to anything inappropriate, but safer caring is about avoiding situations that could be misinterpreted so that all family members feel safe and secure.

Stevie fetched his make-up, which he kept in a silky floral patterned cosmetic bag, and sat at the table with a mirror in front of him while Lucy gave him a lesson in applying make-up. Paula and Adrian had gone up to their rooms and I was in the kitchen clearing up. Lucy and Stevie had quite a laugh, but by the time Lucy had finished, Stevie’s make-up looked much better – subtle. She also got him to take off the bright red nail varnish, ready for school. They then went up to their respective rooms, which left Sammy and me in the living room.

I took the opportunity to go through the Essential Information Form and then wrote up my log notes. All foster carers in the UK are required to keep a daily record of the child or children they are looking after. This includes appointments, the child’s health and wellbeing, education, significant events and any disclosures they may make about their past. When the child leaves this record is placed on file at the social services. I’d begun my log for Stevie when I’d attended the pre-placement meeting, and now I wrote a short paragraph detailing his arrival, what he’d disclosed about being bullied and how he was settling in.

Adrian, Paula, Lucy and I are not night owls during the week, as we all have to be up in the morning for work or college. I needed to get Stevie into the same routine, so at nine o’clock I asked him if he wanted a hot drink and a snack before he went to bed. ‘Can I have an Ovaltine, please?’ he asked. ‘My gran always makes me one.’ It’s little details like this that help a child or young person to settle and feel at home.

I didn’t have any Ovaltine so I said I’d buy some the next day and he had a hot chocolate instead. I then gave him a set of towels and checked he had everything he needed for the night; his gran had packed his nightclothes and a wash bag with a toothbrush and so on. I suggested he had his shower first, as we all had to use the bathroom. I expect all the children I foster as well as my own to have a daily shower or bath. Some children who have come from neglected homes aren’t used to this, but Stevie was – it was part of his grandparents’ routine.

By ten o’clock we were all upstairs in bed or getting ready for bed. Before I went to bed I looked in on Stevie to say goodnight and remind him to switch off his phone. ‘You know where I am if you need anything in the night?’ I said. Despite his age, he was in a strange house, and had been used to sharing a bedroom with his younger brother.

‘What time do I have to get up?’ he asked.

‘Nine tomorrow, but it will be earlier when you are back in school.’

I never sleep particularly well when there is a new child or young person in the house. I worry about them and listen out in case they wake with a start, upset and not knowing where they are, when I go round and reassure them. It didn’t matter that Stevie was nearly fifteen; I still listened out for him. As it was, he seemed to sleep well and only surfaced when he heard the rest of us getting up in the morning.

I find it takes a few days for a new arrival to fit into the family. At the start everyone is a little self-conscious as my family adapts their routine to include another family member and they adapt to fit in with us. Then usually we all chug along without too much trouble. We all need to use the bathroom in the morning and sometimes a queue forms, although this morning Stevie didn’t have to be out the door at any set time. I made him breakfast – cereal and toast as his gran did – and saw Adrian, Paula and Lucy off at the door. Just after nine o’clock I telephoned Stevie’s school and asked to speak to his mentor, Carolyn. It took a few minutes before she came to the phone and was confused when I introduced myself – ‘Cathy Glass, Stevie Jones’s foster carer.’

‘I didn’t know Stevie had gone into care,’ she said. ‘Although there was some talk about it at the end of last term.’

I explained it had all happened quickly the day before and said Stevie was fine and settling in, and that his social worker was aware I was phoning her to arrange a meeting to get Stevie back into school as quickly as possible.

‘Yes, of course. Could you make one o’clock today?’ she asked.

‘Perfect.’

‘Will Stevie’s grandparents be coming too?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘OK. When you arrive, come in the main entrance and give your name at the office and the school secretary will buzz me.’

‘Thank you.’

I said goodbye and then wondered if Stevie’s grandparents would want to attend the meeting as they had before. Stevie was in care voluntarily and there were no child-protection issues to prevent them from attending. It’s always better for the child to see their family working with the foster carer, although in many cases it’s very difficult, even impossible, if the parents are angry that their child has been taken from them as a result of abuse or neglect. But that wasn’t so with Stevie’s grandparents. The problem I could foresee was that Fred could easily do more harm than good with an outspoken, thoughtless comment. Even so, I felt I should mention the meeting to them. I had their contact details on the Essential Information Form, and sometimes it’s the way a question is phrased that directs the outcome.

‘Peggy, it’s Cathy Glass. Stevie is fine,’ I said straight away to reassure her. ‘But I wanted to ask you something?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’ve just spoken to Stevie’s mentor, Carolyn, and I’m going to see her at one o’clock today. Are you happy for me to take Stevie? I’m guessing you’re very busy with Liam and Kiri.’

‘You can say that again!’ Peggy said. ‘They’ve been playing me up a treat with all Steven’s comings and goings. I was relieved that school started again today. Fred has taken them. I’m exhausted. Yes, you go to the meeting with Steven, if it does any good.’

‘OK.’ I wasn’t going to mention at this point that Stevie had disclosed he was being bullied, as it could have made Peggy feel bad for not acting on it.

‘Verity said that Steven wants more of his clothes,’ Peggy said. ‘He can come and get them later if he likes. It’s only a short bus ride from school.’

I didn’t really want Stevie jumping on a bus and going back to his grandparents by himself until he was more settled with us and in the routine of school. So many young people are placed with a foster carer one day and then leg it home the next, then go back and forth between their home and the carers like a yo-yo, which is unsettling for everyone involved.

‘I could bring him in the car after we’ve seen Carolyn,’ I suggested. ‘It will give me a chance to tell you how the meeting went, and he can bring as much of his stuff with him as he wants.’

‘That would be good,’ Peggy said. ‘Liam and Kiri won’t be here, but Steven can see them another time.’ She paused. ‘Cathy, has Steven said anything to you about a secret?’

‘No, why?’

‘It’s probably nothing, but when he was missing over the New Year Liam and Kiri kept messing around and saying, “We’ve got a secret and we’re not going to tell you.” It’s not my birthday, so I thought it was just one of their pranks and they would tell me in time. Those two are always up to mischief. Then yesterday after Steven had gone off they went very serious and Liam said, “We still can’t tell you our secret, Stevie said we mustn’t, not ever.” So I’m wondering what exactly they’ve done this time. Last year the pair of them hid Fred’s false teeth.’

‘Oh no!’

‘They were missing for three days and they wouldn’t tell where they were. Eventually I spotted them in the goldfish bowl among the weeds.’

I laughed as Peggy was doing.

‘I’ll ask Stevie if he knows what they have been up to,’ I said.

‘Thank you. See you later then, and good luck with the meeting.’

I was still smiling at the image of Fred’s false teeth in the goldfish bowl as I went upstairs to find Stevie. He was just on his way out of his room. I told him about the appointment with Carolyn at one o’clock and that I’d spoken to his gran and would take him home after the meeting for some more clothes. Then I said, ‘Your gran has asked me to find out if you know what Kiri and Liam have been up to?’

‘What do you mean?’ Stevie asked, suddenly growing serious.

‘Don’t look so worried. She thinks they might have played another joke like they did with your grandpa’s false teeth. They keep telling her they have a secret and you’ve told them not to tell.’

‘Is that all they said?’ he asked, really concerned.

‘Yes, as far as I know.’ I looked at him. ‘Stevie, is there something your grandparents need to know? If so, I think you should tell me now.’

There was a moment’s hesitation before he said, ‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’ He nodded, and I was almost certain he was lying – a sixth sense from years of raising children.