by Cathy Glass
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But he’d withdrawn into his shell again and I made a mental note to mention this to his social worker too.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.
Chapter Seven
Very Concerned
‘Oskar was very anxious with me,’ Andrew said as he and I settled in the living room – him returning to the sofa and me to the easy chair where I’d left my fostering folder. ‘It’s his first time in care, so it’s bound to take time for him to adjust.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ I agreed.
‘I spoke to his mother, Roksana, at length on the phone yesterday,’ Andrew continued. ‘She’s angry and upset Oskar is in foster care. As far as she’s concerned, she made proper provision for him in her absence, and had no choice but to leave him with her friends. She says they were more than capable of looking after him and had done so in the past. She works long hours and they share childcare. She is adamant Oskar is always well looked after and that none of her friends would harm him. Has he said any more about the bruise on his cheek?’
‘No, but he’s not saying much to any of us at present, about anything.’
Andrew nodded and made a note. ‘His mother says Oskar probably accidently banged his face and accused his uncle to gain sympathy in the hope she would come back. He didn’t want her to go, but she says she had no choice and the uncle has looked after Oskar before.’
‘Which uncle is this?’ I queried.
‘Mr Nowak, the one I met on Tuesday who came to collect Oskar from school.’
‘Is this the same one Oskar is accusing of having hit him?’
‘No. He wouldn’t give that person’s name to his teacher, but it’s not Mr Nowak, or rather Uncle Nowak as Oskar calls him.’
‘Are you aware there have been two other “uncles” waiting in a car outside the school?’ I asked.
‘No. When was this? I haven’t had a chance to speak to the school since Tuesday when I placed Oskar.’
‘They’ve been there each morning and afternoon, but the Headmistress spoke to them yesterday. They claimed they were family friends just keeping an eye on Oskar. I don’t know their names. She asked them not to wait outside, as it was unsettling for Oskar, and I haven’t seen them since.’
‘I’ll need to speak to the Head,’ Andrew said, making a note.
‘I raised it with the school because Oskar denied knowing them, although clearly he did and was very worried – almost frightened – by their presence. He didn’t want to speak to them and was pleased to be in the school playground.’
Andrew nodded seriously as he wrote. ‘Thanks.’
‘If Oskar’s mother was happy leaving him with friends, what did she have to say about all the times in the past when he’s arrived at school hungry and grubby?’ I asked.
‘She says it’s not true. The school have got it wrong. Although she admits she’s not often there in the morning when Oskar gets up and leaves for school. She’s a cleaner and starts work at six, as do most of the other women in the house. The men generally don’t start work until later, so they are left in charge of the children and drop them off at school. Roksana often works the evening shift too, so whoever is available collects the children from school.’
‘There are other children in the house?’ I asked, concerned.
‘Sometimes, and we’re looking into that. You said on the phone that Oskar talked about three women who slept in the same room as him,’ Andrew asked, checking his notes. ‘Do you have their names?’
I opened my folder and read from my log notes. ‘Maria, Elana and Alina. I don’t have their surnames.’
‘Thank you.’ He wrote. ‘Roksana is very upset that Oskar is now having to live with strangers. I’ve reassured her you are an experienced foster carer, but I thought it might help if she could meet you when she returns.’
‘Yes, of course.’ This request wasn’t unusual. It’s natural for a parent to want to meet the person who is looking after their child, and I would very likely be seeing her regularly at contact anyway.
‘I’ll arrange it once Roksana returns, and also set up supervised contact at the Family Centre,’ Andrew continued. ‘You will be able to take and collect him?’
‘Yes.’ It’s a foster carer’s duty to take the child to contact and then collect them afterwards. Sometimes they supervise contact too – in the community or at their own house – but this wasn’t appropriate here. Oskar’s contact would be observed by a specialist supervisor at the Family Centre.
‘Did you have a chance to ask Oskar
’s mother about his diet and routine?’ I asked Andrew.
‘She confirmed Oskar has no special diet, or allergies, and eats most things. You can discuss his routine with her when you meet. She was very angry that he was in care, and also that he’d had a medical without her consent. I explained it was usual for a child to have a medical when they first come into care, and of course we didn’t need her consent with the court order in place, although I would have sought it had she been here.’ I nodded. ‘I’ve read the paediatrician’s report and she’s noted Oskar is on the small side for his age but within the normal range. She couldn’t find any other signs of non-accidental injury, although she states he was very reluctant to let her examine him.’
‘Yes, he didn’t want to remove his clothes. He doesn’t want to undress in front of me, either. I run his bath and wait outside the door while he gets undressed and washes. Similarly, while he changes for bed. I wondered if it was what happened at home with so many in the house.’
‘It’s possible. I’ve yet to see the arrangements in the house, but it could be overcrowded. Oskar and his mother moved around quite a lot. Oskar’s name has shown up on our system at various locations since he was eighteen months. He’s attended two nurseries and three schools.’
‘That is a lot,’ I said. ‘Although living here since he was little explains why his English is so good.’
‘His mother would like them to settle here permanently, but it’s complicated with Luka.’ I nodded. ‘She thought that once she returned Oskar could go to live with her again, so I’ve had to explain he will remain in care for the time being until all the checks are complete and we’re satisfied he would be well looked after and not in any danger if he went home. She’s not happy with me, but that’s a social worker’s lot, I’m afraid.’ Andrew sighed resignedly.
I smiled sympathetically before asking, ‘Did you know Oskar sleeps in a sleeping bag on the floor?’
‘No,’ he said, making a note. ‘Has he told you that?’