‘Can I see the SEN assessment, please?’
Karen’s voice was different now, as she thought back over the last few times she had seen Jamie. He’d been quiet, too quiet, and she suddenly got a flash of him running behind his brother the other evening in her flat. Had he been on his tiptoes or was she just projecting her own thoughts on to him? Her heart was pounding, and she turned to Charlie.
‘Let me pick him up this afternoon, or take him now. I do these assessments all the time, and it would be gentler for him to have someone he knows in the room. Honestly, I know there’ve been huge gaps in my mothering but this is my area, Charlie, and I really want to help.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sure that you’re going to be a huge support for Jamie, and we would love to draw on your expertise, but for Jamie’s sake, and as his headmaster, I think we need to have him independently assessed and move towards having him statemented so that he can get the support he needs. As for not hearing about his skills with computers, we copy you in on all the children’s reports every term, and you were invited to the prizegiving when Jamie received the programming cup and the technology prize. He was the only child in pre-primary ever to win either – quite an occasion!’
Karen opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. She looked at Charlie, who looked upset and unsure what to do next. This was her moment. She turned to Jamie.
‘The most important thing to remember is that you have done nothing wrong, Jamie. We are all here to help you, and luckily Mummy helps people who feel different at her office at work every day. We will give you all the support we can, and make sure you are in the right place to get the most out of your education and your life.’
Karen asked for a word with the headmaster, and they went outside.
‘Would it be alright if I took him home with me? Just today? I noticed that he’s rocking backwards and forwards in his chair, and I don’t think it would help anyone if he went back to class now, not the teacher and certainly not Jamie. What happened to bring this to a head? Was there an incident this morning?’
‘Yes, Jamie got very upset when one of the boys in his class started making fun of him, and his teacher found him curled up in the corner of the classroom refusing to move, and screaming. We do have a strict attendance policy and Jamie’s not actually physically unwell, although we take pastoral care very seriously, and mental health and bullying are at the top of our agenda.’
‘Look, far be it from me to tell you your job, but there are, what, thirty-two kids in Jamie’s class, with one teacher and one TA?’
‘Thirty-three, last count.’
‘And a lot of them don’t have English as their first language?’
‘No, about fifty per cent, I’d say.’
‘For a child with Jamie’s condition, that is tantamount to chaos, and it can’t be helping. I could come in and give him some one-to-one support in the classroom until you have the budget or the personnel to help him? Surely that would be good for him and for the school. I’m more than qualified for the role. Until then, can I take him home? I’ll make sure he does any work you need him to complete, and we’ll be in constant touch and I can assist with the statementing process which is, as you’ll know, a nightmare. If he needs to be at a more appropriate place of learning, I can help facilitate that with the help of colleagues. There are more ways of being too ill to be at school than just having a cough or cold, as you say.’
That did it. The earnest headmaster was looking concerned and Karen could almost hear him running through the seminars he had attended and remembering how important empathy and flexibility were. He took a breath.
‘You make a lot of sense. OK, why don’t you take him now, and we’ll chat later once I’ve had a look at what sort of support we can offer, and you’ve had a chance to decide how you can help. The main issues are that day-to-day he has little or no contact with the other children and has difficulty expressing himself appropriately. He also becomes very distressed when his teacher tries to take away his headphones, which he likes to keep round his neck even when they’re not turned on. In fact on one occasion his teacher had to confiscate them to try and make him concentrate a little more in class. I think your husband may have told you, we were very concerned about his reaction: he became very upset and it frightened the rest of the class.’
Karen tried to remember, and did vaguely recall Charlie telling her about a bad day at school and Jamie being in trouble. If she had realised what was going on she would have been involved before this, but work had been taking up all her time. She felt as if she was in shock: under her nose one of her own children was displaying symptoms that she was trained to look for, but she had been too busy seeking them out elsewhere to notice.
They walked back into the office; the headmaster was still speaking but Karen had tuned out. She wanted to get Jamie out of the school and assess exactly what was going on. As they went in, Karen saw that Charlie had turned his chair towards Jamie and was trying to ruffle his hair and pat his shoulder, but was being physically rebuffed and making Jamie more agitated.
‘Come on, mate, cheer up.’
Karen almost laughed. If you’d written a paper on how to make a stressful situation with an autistic kid worse, this would be a blueprint. Karen ignored him, surprised by her own unexpected mental use of the word ‘autistic’ in relation to her youngest son.
‘Jamie, we’re going to go home now. You don’t have to go back to class. Where’s your coat?’
The little boy’s face showed no reaction, but he unwound himself from the chair and walked towards the door, his eyes focused on the ground in front of him and his heels not quite touching the floor. Karen felt something close to excitement and suddenly everything made sense. Jamie was exactly the type of child that she had been researching and trying to help for so long. How had this happened? It seemed extraordinary that in a week which had seen so many highs and lows Karen now had a chance to really be involved with Jamie from diagnosis to treatment, and if all went well she could show everyone what could be done with early intervention and the proper help. Nick seemed like a distant memory and she bit down hard on her lip to stop herself welling up with a mixture of pride and relief.
Charlie trailed along behind Jamie and Karen as they headed towards the cloakroom. He was talking about the other two kids and pick-up times and Sarah having had a temperature the other evening. Karen knew that Jamie would need all her attention to make sure that there was as good an outcome as possible. She smiled at Charlie; she felt magnanimous in her new role and she nodded reassuringly.
‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. I know I haven’t been there as much as I could have, but I’m going to make that up to you all now. I’ll take Jamie now and we can make a start on getting him back on track. I’ll let you know exactly what’s going on. Have you noticed anything I should be particularly aware of?’
‘Just the stuff I’ve been telling you about for months. He doesn’t talk, he won’t play sport, he doesn’t have any friends, he doesn’t like hugs, or tickling, or even FIFA on Xbox… ’
Charlie’s voice trailed off and Karen ran over their conversations since the divorce. All she had been able to hear was him complaining, wanting more from her, and she hadn’t heard him. She’d been stupid: if she had listened she could have been concentrating on Jamie and his symptoms all this time.
Charlie was talking again, about Sarah and Jack and their arrangements, and dealing with Jamie as a family, and Karen talking to them later, and Jack’s football camp. It washed over her. She did understand that Charlie thought it was a good idea to get together with all three children and explain the implications of Jamie’s problems and decide how they could all help. Karen knew that that would have to happen, but for now she wanted to get going and have some time alone with her son. Charlie clearly hadn’t understood a thing about the challenges Jamie faced. Too much time had been lost already and Karen wanted to kick herself for not picking up the signs. Quiet car rides after s
chool, watching the television with his headphones on. Then Karen had a lightbulb moment: headphones.
‘Charlie, why don’t you just go home and have a rest? I honestly feel awful that this is my field and I hadn’t noticed a thing. Jamie and I can catch up, I’ll take him somewhere quiet. Can we just try and find out where his headphones are so that he doesn’t feel uncomfortable?’
Charlie disappeared into the classroom and came back a few minutes later holding them, ruffled his son’s hair again, apparently oblivious that pulling away and waving hands were signs that Jamie wanted to be left alone. Her ex-husband looked lost, and for the first time since early in their marriage seemed to be looking for guidance and reassurance from Karen.
‘It’s OK, Charlie, I’ll be in touch later, just get some rest.’
Karen bent down and turned Jamie’s chin gently towards her. She held out the headphones and he took them and put them over his ears. Together they walked towards the reception, Karen filled out an absence note, the headmaster signed it, and they walked towards the car.
Karen had strapped Jamie in and was about to drive away when she saw Charlie half loping, half jogging towards them. She was running out of patience.
‘Listen, Karen, he just isn’t used to being on his own with you, he’s very dependent on his sister, she’s the only one who can get through to him really. We can come to yours later, maybe get a pizza after you two’ve had a chat.’
Karen thought for a moment. She needed more than a chat; she needed peace and to be able to observe Jamie over a period of time, to see what he was and was not capable of. But she didn’t want another argument.
‘That sounds great. I’ll let you know how we get on, and we’ll take it from there.’
Charlie looked relieved, and as Karen drove away all she could think of was Jamie and how finally all her theories could become something concrete. She looked across at him, lost in his own world. She wasn’t going back to the house; it would be too stressful for both of them with Tam around and Nick below her. They needed somewhere peaceful and neutral with no distractions. The Travelodge near the station – they could spend the night. Sarah and Jack would be fine with their father while she worked with their brother.
Jamie wasn’t fazed at all as they parked in the unfamiliar concreted forecourt of the urban hotel. Karen walked round the car, undid his safety belt and waited. Jamie slid out of the seat and walked alongside her quietly. His head moved to the rhythm of the music on his headphones, and he waited while Karen checked in and took the slim piece of plastic that passed for a key.
Their room was utilitarian: a television, a bathroom, two queen-sized beds – and Jamie happily climbed up on to the farthest bed and waved his hands until Karen turned on the television. She found a cartoon channel, and opened the bag of crisps she had bought from the machine in reception and handed them to Jamie. She needed some time, and she sat on the bed and took out her laptop, went to her documents and opened up the diagnostic questions. She filled in his name and basic information, then moved from the pages relating to toddlers and on to the questions for five-year-olds. She filled in his name, address and details at the top, then plucked up her courage, walked over to her peaceful boy, and reached down to take off his headphones.
Jamie screeched. It was as if he had only just realised that he was in a strange room alone with his mother on a school day. Karen gently steered his chin towards her again and tried to make eye contact. Whichever angle she came at him from, he avoided her gaze, and his hands were flapping frantically now. Karen pointed at the television, but Jamie wouldn’t follow the pointing and lay on his front kicking and grabbing for the headphones.
Karen spent half an hour going through his responses to different questions, calming him down, showing him colours, smiling, and noting down the complete lack of engagement. No eye contact, no ability to play independently, just a desire to line up the diagnostic toys neatly over and over again. She didn’t react to his distress; she had done these tests many times and knew that as soon as his comfort object was returned he would be fine.
The diagnosis was definitive. Jamie had high-functioning autism, and Karen’s heart was racing. She told herself it was because she would be able to help him, but even she knew this at least was in part a lie. She walked over to him, observed the hands balled up by his sides, every muscle in his body taut, face grimacing and hands over his ears. She tapped his shoulder gently and held out his headphones. Within five minutes, his body relaxed and the tightly shut eyes opened. Karen sat down to work out an exact diagnosis and tried to suppress the feeling that somehow this was a good thing, and wondered what the protocol was on publishing papers about close family members.
There was a deep sense of purpose in her now; she felt finally as if her life had a direction as she walked over to Jamie and covered him with a blanket. She lay down on the other bed, and slept the sleep of the dead.
When she woke up, Jamie was still fast asleep, earphones on, curled up on his side. Karen needed to see him in different environments, so she decided that today it was more important for them to be together than for Jamie to be at school. She rang in and explained that he was coming down with something, then looked at her messages. Her phone was full of texts from Sarah and Charlie, asking how Jamie was, where he was, when they were coming back. She sent a text to both of them, clearing the decks for the day ahead.
Jamie fine, happy and going through everything and making lots of progress. Don’t worry, will call as soon as we’re home. I think he’s coming down with a cold so will let him sleep and we can all have a pizza later. Sorry I didn’t call yesterday, Jamie was exhausted and my phone went flat.
When Jamie finally woke up, Karen helped him get dressed and they drove together to a McDonald’s drive-through and picked up breakfast. Karen had told Charlie off about his Saturday morning ritual of fast food, but there were more important considerations at play and once wouldn’t hurt. Karen drove from there to a toy shop and picked up some turn-taking games, then back to the Travelodge. By mid-morning Jamie was asking for Sarah, and Karen couldn’t get him to concentrate on anything, so they went to the park and as soon as she knew Sarah would be at lunch Karen called her. She was amazed how calm Jamie became as soon as he heard his sister’s voice. Karen made a note of the reaction: perhaps having one person to whom these high-functioning children were securely attached was part of the solution. Sarah wanted to come and see Jamie, but Karen needed more time, and explained that it was easier to do all the tests at the same time.
‘Mum, he’s never been away from me for this long, can you bring him over later?’
‘Of course, Sarah, I’ll go back to the flat with him. It’s really important that we all work together to help him, so if you can just give me a little more time we can really get on top of things and put a plan in place to make Jamie’s life as fulfilling and happy as we can.’
Then Karen finally called Charlie. She needed one more day. As time had gone on, Jamie had become more and more withdrawn until Karen had given up completely, exhausted mentally and physically. She tried to explain the situation.
‘Charlie, just calm down, of course I can be trusted. Look, the kind of parenting you’re talking about which works so well with the other two won’t work with Jamie. I know it seems harsh, but if you just let him stay one more night he can come home and we can all get back to normal.’
‘Karen, I’m not leaving him with you any longer. He isn’t used to being away from us all, and it won’t do him any harm to come home for supper. Just tell me where you both are. Let me speak to him.’
‘I know what I’m doing.’
Karen switched her phone off as Charlie carried on, shouting about custody and his rights. What about Jamie’s rights? Karen wished she had never given him so much control; she should have thought ahead. What was it Charlie always said? Stop trying to fix the world and look at what’s under your nose.
By Friday night, she was relaxed again. The weekend
stretched ahead. Charlie would calm down, he always did. Jamie was too tired to do anything else tonight, so she ordered pizza and sat next to him on the bed. She carefully cut the pizza into equal-sized pieces as Jamie watched. She offered him the box and he took a piece. Karen took the corresponding one on the other side of the box and they sat together, looking at the screen in front of them with no sound. Jamie pointed at the pictures of the deer in Richmond Park. At some point during the night Karen realised she had fallen asleep next to Jamie, covered them both with the duvet and plugged her phone in. They slept, back to back, in their own worlds.
13 | Tam
‘Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.’
— Marcus Aurelius
Thursday morning
Banging, he could hear banging coming from somewhere, and he pulled the pillow over his head to block it out. He needed to sleep and if someone had decided to do building work today it would be the icing on the mouldy cake that was his life. It wasn’t stopping, and through the fog of his hangover Tam realised that it was knocking coming from the hallway. It was the front door. He hauled himself to his feet and padded barefoot across the hall, rubbing eyes that felt as though they had glass shards in them. He was not in the mood for conversation. He pulled the door open.
‘Yes, what can I do for you, mate?’
Tam tried to incorporate some menace into the enquiry, or at least convey that he was keen to be left alone, until he realised that the guy in front of him, in a wife-beater vest bearing the legend Hutnik Warszawa, and a tattoo on his arm of a crest involving knives and wolves, was probably not someone it was wise to be snappy with, alone on a doorstep in the middle of a weekday morning. He was glaring at Tam, and his bare chest had never felt quite so inadequate, or lacking in muscle tone, as it did right now.
‘Sorry, I was asleep. Can I help you?’
‘I looking my sister, she come to this house address yesterday evening and she not come home.’
The Man on the Middle Floor Page 17