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I smiled. ‘Good boy. I’ll know what you want next time. Do you sleep with your light on or off?’ This was also important for helping a child settle.
Danny didn’t say anything but went to the light switch and dimmed it.
‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘Is there anything else you need before you get into bed?’
He shook his head and climbed into bed, then snuggled down. He pulled the duvet right up over his head and drew the soft-toy rabbit beneath it.
‘Won’t you be too hot like that?’ I asked him.
There was no reply.
I tried easing the duvet down a little away from his face so he could breathe, but he pulled it up over his head again.
‘All right then, love. I’ll say goodnight.’ It was strange saying goodnight without being able to see his face. Often a child wanted a hug or a goodnight kiss, or, missing home, asked me to sit with them while they went off to sleep. Clearly Danny didn’t want any of these.
‘Night then, love,’ I said to the lump in the duvet that was Danny. Silence. ‘Do you want your door open or closed?’ I asked before I left.
There was no answer, so I left the door slightly ajar and came out. I’d check on him later. Yet as I went round the landing to Paula’s room I heard Danny get out of bed and quietly close his door. He had known what he wanted but hadn’t been able to tell me. Whether this was from poor language skills, shyness or some other reason I couldn’t say.
Once I’d checked that Paula, Lucy and Adrian were OK and getting ready for bed, I went downstairs. I would go up later when they were in bed to say goodnight. I was exhausted, but I knew I should write up my fostering notes before I went to bed while the events of the day were still fresh in my mind. All foster carers in England are asked to keep a daily log in respect of the child or children they are looking after. They record any significant events that have affected the child, the child’s wellbeing and general development, as well as any appointments the child may have. It is a confidential document, and when the child leaves the foster carer it is sent to the social services, where it is held on file.
I sat on the sofa in the living room with a mug of tea within reach and headed the sheet of A4 paper with the date. I then recorded objectively how I’d collected Danny from school and the details of how he was gradually settling in, ending with the time he went to bed and his routine. I placed the sheet in the folder I’d already begun for Danny, and which would eventually contain all the paperwork I had on him. I returned the folder to the lockable draw in the front room and went upstairs to say goodnight to Paula, Lucy and Adrian. Then I checked on Danny. He was still buried beneath the duvet and, concerned he would be too hot and breathing stale air, I crept to the bed and slowly moved the duvet clear of his face. He was in a deep sleep and didn’t stir. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his soft-toy rabbit lay on the pillow beside him. Danny looked like a little angel with his delicate features relaxed in sleep and his mop of light blond hair.
I checked on him again at 11.30 before I went to bed, and then when I woke at 2 a.m. Both times he was fast asleep, flat on his back, with his face above the duvet and soft-toy George beside him. I didn’t sleep well – I never do when a child first arrives. I subconsciously listen out for the child in case they are upset. But as far as I was aware Danny slept soundly, and he was still asleep when my alarm went off at 6 a.m. I checked on him before I showered and dressed, then again before I went downstairs to feed Toscha and make myself a coffee. At 7 a.m., after I’d woken Adrian, Lucy and Paula, I knocked on Danny’s door and went in. He was awake now, still lying on his back but with his arm around the soft toy and staring up at the ceiling.
‘Good morning, love,’ I said, going over to the bed. ‘You slept well. Did you remember where you were when you woke?’
His gaze flickered in my direction, but he didn’t make eye contact. Then he spoke, although it wasn’t to answer my question.
‘For breakfast I have cornflakes, with milk and half a teaspoon of sugar,’ he said.
I smiled. He had clearly prepared this speech, and I wondered at the effort that must have gone into finding the correct words and then keeping them ready for when they were needed.
‘That sounds good to me,’ I said. ‘I want you to wash and dress and then we’ll go down and have breakfast.’
I looked at his little face as he concentrated on what I’d said and tried to work out if a response was needed, and if so, what.
‘So the first thing you need to do is get out of bed,’ I said. I appreciated that Danny needed clear and precise instructions. There was a moment’s pause before Danny pushed back the duvet and got out of bed. ‘Good boy,’ I said. ‘The next thing you need to do is go to the toilet and then the bathroom so you can have a wash.’
Danny turned, not towards the bedroom door but to where his clothes were at the foot of the bed. He stared at them anxiously.
‘Do you usually put your clothes on first?’ I asked him.
He nodded.
‘That’s fine, but you’ll need clean clothes. I’ll wash those.’ I usually replaced the child’s clothes with fresh ones when they took them off at night, but I hadn’t had a chance the previous evening. I went to the chest of drawers where Danny had put his clean clothes and opened the drawer. Danny arrived beside me, wanting to take out what he needed himself.
‘I’ll put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket,’ I said.
He shook his head and, setting down his clean clothes, picked up the dirty ones, again clearly wanting to do it himself. ‘OK. I’ll show you where to put your laundry,’ I said. But Danny went ahead. I followed him round the landing and then waited just outside the bathroom while he put his clothes into the laundry basket. He’d obviously remembered seeing it the night before.
‘Good boy,’ I said.
He used the toilet and then we returned to his bedroom. I was on hand to help if necessary. Before he began dressing Danny laid out his clothes on the bed in the order in which they would go on. His vest at the top, beneath that his school shirt, then his jumper, pants, trousers and socks. I wondered if this was a system he’d thought of to help him dress or if it had been devised by his parents. Special needs children often struggle with sequencing tasks like this that appear simple to the rest of us; they can easily put their vest on over the top of their shirt, for example. Danny’s system worked. Slowly but surely he dressed himself and didn’t need my help.
‘Well done,’ I said as he finished.
He didn’t reply but now concentrated on folding his pyjamas – precisely in half and half again – and then tucked them neatly under his pillow. He carefully positioned his soft toy, George, on his pillow and then drew up the duvet so just the little rabbit’s face peeped out. After that he spent some moments readjusting the duvet until I said, ‘Time to go downstairs for breakfast now.’
He finally stopped fiddling with the duvet and came with me. At the top of the stairs I offered him my hand, and for a second I thought he was going to take it, but then he took hold of the handrail instead. Because Danny was quite small he navigated the steps one at a time, as a much younger child would. He then came with me into the kitchen-cum-diner and went straight to his place at the table.
‘Good boy,’ I said again.
Adrian came down and took his place at the table. ‘Hi, Danny,’ he said. ‘How are you?’
Danny didn’t answer but did look in Adrian’s direction.
‘Toast and tea?’ I asked Adrian, which was what he normally had for breakfast during the week.
‘Yes please, Mum.’
In the kitchen I dropped two slices of bread into the toaster, poured Danny’s cornflakes into a bowl, added milk and sugar and then placed the bowl on the table in front of him. He picked up his spoon and began eating, clearly used to eating cornflakes. ‘What would you like to drink with your breakfast?’ I asked Danny.
There was silence. His spoon hovered over his bowl and he concentrated hard before he said, ‘I have a glass of milk with my breakfast.’
I poured the milk, gave it to Danny and then joined him and Adrian at the table. The girls came down and said hello to Danny, then poured themselves cereal and a drink. As we ate, Lucy and Paula tried to make conversation with Danny, asking him what he liked best at school and what his favourite television programmes were. He didn’t answer, and I could see he was growing increasingly anxious at their questions, although of course they were only trying to be friendly and make him feel welcome. Danny appeared to be a child who needed to concentrate on one task at a time, and he finally stopped eating.
‘I think Danny is finding our talk a bit much first thing in the morning,’ I said as diplomatically as I could.
‘I know the feeling,’ Adrian added dryly.
‘Watch it,’ Lucy said jokingly, poking him in the ribs.
But the girls understood what I meant and not usually being great conversationalists themselves first thing in the morning, they left Danny to eat. Once I knew more about Danny’s difficulties I’d be better equipped to explain them to Adrian, Lucy and Paula, and also to deal with them myself. At present I was relying on common sense and my experience as a foster carer.
As the children finished eating they left the table one at a time to go upstairs and carry on getting ready for school. I waited with Danny while he emptied his bowl of cornflakes and then drank his glass of milk.
‘Good boy,’ I said. ‘Now it’s time for you to go upstairs so you can wash and brush your teeth.’
‘George?’ he asked questioningly, glancing towards the back door.
‘Do you feed George in the morning?’ I asked.
He nodded.
‘Your mummy will feed George today,’ I said. ‘I’ll talk to her about George when I see her this morning at school.’
He accepted this, slid from his chair and then followed me down the hall and upstairs. In the bathroom he completed the tasks of washing and brushing his teeth in the same order and with the same precision as he had the previous evening.
Adrian, Lucy and Paula left for their respective secondary schools, calling goodbye as they went. Then, once Danny had finished in the bathroom, we went downstairs, where I told him we needed to put on our shoes and coats ready to go to school. I went to unhook his coat from the stand, but he put his hand on my arm to stop me. ‘Of course,’ I said, smiling. ‘You want to do it yourself.’
I lifted him up and he unhooked his coat, then struggled into it, finally accepting my help to engage the zipper. He sat on the floor to put on his shoes, and when he’d finished I praised him. He put so much effort into everything he did, it was important he knew when he’d done well. He didn’t have a school bag; I assumed it had been left at school.
‘We’re going outside, so hold my hand, please,’ I said as I opened the front door.
He did as I asked and we went to my car on the driveway. I opened the rear door and Danny clambered into the child seat and then fastened his own seatbelt. I checked it was secure, closed his door and went round and climbed into the driver’s seat. As I drove I reminded Danny what was going to happen that day (as far as I knew); that we were going to school where he would see his mother, and I was going into a meeting. Then at the end of the day I would collect him from school and bring him home with me. I didn’t mention that Jill was visiting us at 4 p.m., as I thought it might overload him with information; I’d tell him after school. He didn’t reply, but I knew he was taking it all in – his gaze was fixed and serious as he concentrated.
Although I was slightly anxious about meeting his mother for the first time, I was also looking forward to it. I would learn more about Danny, and hopefully I’d be able to work with his parents with the aim of eventually returning Danny home. Having looked after Danny for only one night, I appreciated how his parents might have struggled. Caring for Danny was hard work, and I’d had plenty of experience looking after children – many with special needs. Some parents are very angry when their child or children first go into care, although given that Danny had been placed in care voluntarily I didn’t think that was likely. I thought his parents would probably be upset rather than angry, and I was right – although I was completely unprepared for just how upset Danny’s mother would be.
Chapter Five
Absolute Hell (#u92a58b8a-c776-592a-92a5-87ddec9fcbf7)
The school building and surrounding trees and shrubbery seemed a lot more welcoming now it was light than it had the evening before in darkness. Some parents were already in the playground chatting to each other while their children played before the start of lessons. I was planning on going straight into school with Danny that morning as the meeting started at nine o’clock, but as we entered the playground I heard Danny’s name being called. I turned and saw a woman rushing towards us in tears. I guessed it was Danny’s mother, Reva. She scooped him up and, holding him to her, buried her head in his shoulder and sobbed.
‘Shall we go inside?’ I suggested, touching her arm reassuringly. ‘It’ll be more private.’ I could see others in the playground looking and I felt Danny’s reunion with his mother – and her grief – needed some privacy.
‘Yes, please,’ Reva said quietly.
She carried Danny and we walked towards the main door. As we approached, it opened from inside and Sue Bright, Danny’s teacher, came out. ‘I’ve been looking out for you,’ she said. ‘Come in. We can use the medical room, it’s free.’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
We followed Sue down a short corridor, turned left and entered the medical room, which was equipped with a couch, three chairs, a sink and a first-aid cupboard. Danny’s mother sat on one of the chairs and held Danny on her lap, close to her. ‘He must have missed me so much,’ she said through her tears. ‘He never normally lets me touch him.’
Danny said one word in a flat and emotionless voice: ‘Mum.’
‘Would you like some time alone?’ Sue asked Reva.
‘Yes, please,’ she said.
‘We’ll come back in a few minutes when school starts,’ Sue added.
I left the medical room with Sue and she closed the door behind us. ‘Has he been very upset?’ she asked me, concerned.
‘More quiet and withdrawn, really,’ I said. ‘But he slept well, and has been eating.’
Sue nodded. ‘Danny is often withdrawn in school; that’s one of his problems.’
‘Has there been an assessment?’ I asked.
‘Not yet.’ She paused. ‘Would you mind waiting until the meeting to talk about this? It’s complicated and I need to see to my class soon.’
‘That’s fine, of course,’ I said.
‘Thanks. His social worker, Terri, is on her way. She’ll be about five minutes. Once school starts Danny can join his class, and then we can have our meeting. We’ll use the staff room. It’ll be empty once school begins. We’re only a small school and a bit short of space. Are you all right to wait here while I bring my class in from the playground?’
‘Yes, go ahead.’
‘I’ll be about ten minutes.’
Sue disappeared around the corner and I waited in the small corridor outside the medical room. While I waited I looked at the children’s art work that adorned most of every wall. Although it was only a small school it came across as being very friendly and child-centred. Danny’s teacher, Sue, seemed really kind and caring, as had the other staff I’d briefly met the evening before. My thoughts went to Danny’s mother, Reva, who unlike Danny was quite tall, but also slender. She was in her late thirties and was dressed smartly in a grey skirt and matching jacket. I felt sorry for her. She was so upset; she and her husband must have had a sleepless night, counting the hours until they could see Danny again. Her husband wasn’t with her, but Terri had said there was going to be regular contact, so he would see Danny before too long.
A whistle sounded in the playground signalling the start of school, and presently I heard the clamour of children’s voices as they filed into the building and went to their classrooms. Then Sam, the caretaker I’d briefly met the evening before, appeared at the end of the corridor. ‘How’s the little fellow doing?’ he asked cheerfully.
‘He’s doing all right,’ I smiled.
‘Good for you. You foster carers do a fantastic job. I know – I was brought up in care.’ And with a nod and a smile he went off to go about his duties. That was a nice comment, I thought.
Five minutes later the school was quiet as the first lesson began. Sue appeared with Terri and we said good morning. ‘How’s Danny been?’ Terri asked.
‘Quiet,’ I said. ‘But he ate and slept well, and we only had one tantrum.’
‘Good. Have you met his mother, Reva?’
‘Just briefly in the playground. She’s very upset.’
Terri nodded. ‘Shall we get started then? I have to be away by ten-thirty as I have another meeting at eleven.’
Sue knocked on the door to the medical room and she and Terri went in, while I waited at the door. I could see Danny was now sitting on a chair beside his mother. They both had their hands in their laps, and were quiet and still.
‘Danny, I’ll take you to your class now,’ Sue said gently.
Danny obediently stood.
‘Say goodbye to your mother,’ Sue said.
‘Goodbye,’ Danny said in a small, flat voice and without looking at her.
‘Goodbye, love,’ she called after him. ‘I’ll see you later.’
Danny didn’t reply or show any emotion but walked quietly away with his teacher.
‘Will you show Reva and Cathy to the staff room?’ Sue said to Terri. ‘I’ll join you there once I’ve taken Danny to his class.’
‘Bye, love,’ Danny’s mother called again as he left, but Danny didn’t reply.
‘How are you?’ Terri now asked Reva as she stood, looping her handbag over her shoulder.
She shrugged and dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
‘You’ve met Cathy,’ Terri said to her.
She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes.
‘Hello, Reva,’ I said with a smile.
I could see the family resemblance between her and Danny – the same mouth and eyes.
