by Cathy Glass
It’s usual for the foster carer to leave the Family Centre with the child first to avoid any emotional or difficult situations developing outside, so I said goodbye to Roksana and that we’d phone her tomorrow.
‘Goodbye,’ Oskar said, standing, and he came straight to me.
‘Are you going to give your mother a kiss goodbye?’ I asked him.
Roksana had stood and was now checking her phone. Oskar dutifully returned to her. Not taking her eyes from her phone, she threw a half-hearted kiss in the direction of his head. No hug, no proper kiss goodbye. As he returned to me, I saw the look of disappointment on his face and I wished Roksana could have seen it too. Children thrive on attention and praise, and wither from emotional neglect.
‘Good boy,’ I said, smiling at him, and he took my hand.
Outside, I asked him if he’d had a nice time and he said, ‘Yes,’ although his voice was flat. I then asked him if he would like to invite a friend from school home for tea one afternoon, and he shrugged gloomily. ‘Think about it,’ I said. But I was beginning to wonder if Oskar was depressed. It was relatively unusual for a child of his age to be depressed, but it was something I would raise with his social worker. Some children are referred to CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services) for therapy when they come into care.
On Wednesday the phone call to Roksana was no better or worse than the previous ones. It was very short and uninspiring, and Oskar responded to his mother’s questions with ‘Yes’, ‘No’ or a shrug, which of course she couldn’t see. I prompted him with some topics he could talk to her about, but with the phone on speaker Roksana could hear me and said, ‘It’s OK if he doesn’t want to talk,’ and she said goodbye.
After dinner that evening I took out Oskar’s review form and explained to him what the review was all about, then we sat at the table in the kitchen-diner to complete it. He could read some of the questions and his writing was about average for a six-year-old. Some of the questions had a choice of emojis and didn’t require a written answer. To begin with his responses were pretty much what I would have expected of him.
How do you feel most of the time? He circled the emoji with a sad face.
Would you like to know more about your past? ‘Don’t mind,’ he wrote.
Who is your social worker? ‘Andrew.’
Would you like to see more of them? ‘No.’
Who are your friends? Would you like to see more of them? ‘Don’t mind.’
If you have any problems, who do you talk to? ‘Miss Jordan.’
‘I hope you can talk to me too,’ I reminded Oskar, and he nodded.
Do you have any questions about what is going to happen in the future? Most children would put: ‘When can I go home?’ But to my astonishment Oskar wrote: ‘Can I stay with Cathy?’
I turned and looked at him carefully. ‘Do you want to stay with me?’ I asked. ‘Or is it you think that’s what I want to hear?’
‘No, it’s true,’ he said in a tiny voice.
‘Why?’
He didn’t reply but read the next question: Is there anything you would like to add?
He paused thoughtfully and then wrote: ‘I don’t want to go home.’
‘Can you write why you don’t want to go home?’ I asked. It’s often easier to write something painful than to say it.
He paused again and then wrote: ‘It’s not safe.’
‘Why isn’t it safe?’ I asked. ‘Write it down.’
‘No, I can’t tell you,’ he whispered, and concentrated on the next question.
Chapter Twelve
Mr Nowak
I was reeling from the shock of Oskar’s disclosure – that he’d admitted he didn’t feel safe at home – as he quietly signed his review from. I’d looked after children before who’d been able to write down something bad that had happened to them when they hadn’t been able to say it, but I’d never had a child actually disclose on their review form. I’d always found the questions rather bland, but clearly they had allowed Oskar to say how he was feeling when he hadn’t been able to tell me or Andrew. I reassured him he was safe with me, but I couldn’t make promises about where he would live long-term, as that was for the judge to decide in October. I also said that I’d need to tell Andrew what he’d told me about not feeling safe at home, which Oskar accepted with a small nod. Was his comment referring solely to the bruise he’d arrived with on his face from being slapped? I doubted it. In my experience children put up with a lot worse than a slap and still want to return home.
Once Oskar was in bed that evening I wrote up my log notes, including exactly what he’d said, and also sent an email to his social worker updating him. I put the review forms in the envelope provided, ready to post the following day. Not only Andrew, but everyone present at the review would appreciate the significance of Oskar’s disclosure, and I wondered what his mother would have to say. The IRO would refer to Oskar’s review form as part of the review, and often they read it out, with the child’s permission.
That night Oskar had a nightmare and I found him buried deep under his duvet, hot, trembling and with his eyes screwed tightly shut. He was trying to fight off something or someone, and it took me a while to bring him out of it. I sat with him until he was in a peaceful sleep again and returned to my bed, although it was a long time before I fell asleep. Foster carers worry about the child they look after as much, if not more, than they do their own children, for they’ve already suffered a lot.
On Thursday, Roksana was fifteen minutes late for contact and rushed into the room, stressed. ‘My last lady had an accident just as I was about to leave,’ she said. ‘So I had to stop and change her again.’
‘You’re a carer as well as a cleaner?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I clean offices early morning and evening, and I work as an agency carer during the day.’ She sighed.
Not wanting to impinge on her time with Oskar, I said goodbye to them both and left. They wouldn’t be allowed extra time to make up for Roksana being late, as it’s considered the responsibly of the parent to make sure they attend each contact session punctually. While one unavoidable lateness wouldn’t count against her, it would if it became a regular occurrence. There are rules about contact at the Family Centre, which the parent is made aware of; for example, if they’re half an hour late without phoning to say they’re on their way, the session is cancelled and the carer takes the child home. While it’s disappointing for all concerned, it’s not as upsetting for the child as having to wait indefinitely for a parent who may not arrive at all. If a parent keeps failing to arrive then contact is often suspended. Harsh though this may seem, it is to protect the child from the pain of further let-downs and rejection – which their lives have often been full of.
When I collected Oskar at the end of contact the room was quiet and tidy as usual, and, as before, mother and son separated easily – too easily for my liking. I hoped I would get some more feedback about contact from Andrew before long.
On Saturday morning I took Oskar for dental and optician check-ups as the foster carer is expected to do. This is in addition to the medical the social worker arranges. His teeth and eyesight were fine, and afterwards I took him to an activity centre. He’d never been to one before, and after some initial reluctance on his part he played and enjoyed himself for an hour or so. On Sunday we didn’t visit my mother as she was going to my brother’s for dinner. It was a lovely, warm May morning and I suggested to Oskar that we take a football to the park. Adrian said he could come, as he wasn’t seeing Kirsty. Most lads I’d fostered would have been delighted to have Adrian with us, as many of them, like Oskar, had a single-parent mother so had often lacked a good male role model. Indeed, it was something I’d been concerned about after my husband had left me when my children had been young. But my dear father had stepped into that role and done a great job.
Sadly, Oskar showed the s
ame wariness towards Adrian as he had done previously and tucked himself into my side as we walked to the park, as far away from Adrian as possible. Thankfully Adrian was easy-going and used to a range of behaviours from the children we fostered, so he didn’t take it personally. Indeed, he might not even have noticed.
Once in the park we went over to the playing-field area and Adrian began kicking the ball about with the intention of encouraging Oskar to join in. Others were playing in small family groups and with friends. Oskar watched Adrian until I joined in and kicked the ball to Oskar and then he returned it to me and finally Adrian. After that, the three of us kicked the ball between us for half an hour or so and Oskar seemed to enjoy himself. We then went to the area where the children’s apparatus was, and while Oskar went on the swings and roundabout, Adrian and I talked – to begin with about his job as a trainee accountant. We didn’t get much time to talk just the two of us, so I made the most of it.
‘How are you and Kirsty?’ I asked nonchalantly when he’d finished telling me about work.
‘Fine, Mum.’
‘Good. She’s lovely. You know I like her a lot.’
He smiled indulgently. ‘Yes, and now I have a permanent job I can save up more.’
‘Very good. What for?’
‘A deposit on a flat.’
‘With Kirsty?’
‘Yes, of course, Mum.’
‘That’s nice.’
I’d thought as much, but I find, when it comes to romance and one’s children, it’s best not to take things for granted. Adrian and Kirsty had been dating steadily since college and I hoped they would make a future together, although I was in no rush for him to leave.
We returned home and I cooked Sunday lunch, after which Lucy disappeared off to see Darren. ‘Don’t be too late, you’ve got work tomorrow,’ I reminded her. She’d been out with him until late on Friday and Saturday.
‘I won’t!’ she called, and the front door closed behind her.
When Oskar and I telephoned his mother that evening it was their usual short exchange, and when they’d finished I added, ‘See you tomorrow at the review, Roksana.’
‘No, I can’t go,’ she said. ‘I’ve left Andrew a message. I have to work.’
‘Oh dear, that’s a pity. Can’t you swap shifts?’
‘It’s impossible. I’ve told Andrew.’
‘OK. We’ll phone as usual in the evening then.’ We said goodbye.
I hoped Roksana appreciated the importance of attending her child’s review. Going would have shown a level of commitment and also given her the chance to see Oskar, but it wasn’t for me to tell her.
On Monday morning, as I drove to school, I reminded Oskar about his review that afternoon. I’d already told him what to expect. As we waited for school to start Miss Jordan came into the playground, asked us if we’d had a good weekend and then said she’d be attending the review but wasn’t sure of the format. I told her much the same as I’d told Oskar.
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ I added, for she looked quite nervous.
‘How long do you think I should speak for?’ she asked.
‘About five or ten minutes. Just say how Oskar is doing academically and socially – mixing with his peers.’
‘Should I bring him to the review with me?’
‘No, see what the chairperson suggests. They may want him there at the beginning or just towards the end. Someone can always leave the review to fetch him from the classroom if necessary.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, still a little nervous. ‘I’ll see you later then.’
‘You’ll be fine. Don’t worry.’
‘Don’t worry, Miss,’ Oskar said cutely, and we both smiled. I could appreciate how daunting it must seem to her. I remembered how I used to feel when I had first begun to attend reviews and other meetings connected with fostering. Even now, I felt a little anxious just before a meeting, as they are quite formal.
I hadn’t been home long when Andrew telephoned, having read the email I’d sent him on Friday evening. He wanted an update prior to the review. I went over what Oskar had said about wanting to stay with me as he didn’t feel safe at home when he’d completed his review form. ‘Has he said any more?’
‘No, although he had another nightmare on Friday night.’
‘I’ve made a referral to CAMHS, but there is a waiting list.’
At 12.30 I made myself a sandwich lunch, then I changed into a smart outfit and with my notes in my shoulder bag I drove to Oskar’s school. I arrived ten minutes before the review was due to begin. Andrew was in reception signing the Visitors’ Book. He said hello and passed the pen to me. ‘I’m just waiting to hear which room we are in,’ he said.
At that moment Elaine Summer, the Head Teacher, appeared through a set of double doors to our right and said good afternoon.
‘The Independent Reviewing Officer has just arrived and I’ve shown him into our meeting room,’ she said. ‘This way.’
As Andrew and I followed her along the corridor she said she would stay for at least part of the review. It wasn’t essential she was present, as Miss Jordan was attending. We went up a small flight of stairs and into a carpeted room where a large table stood in the centre with chairs around it. ‘This used to be a classroom,’ Elaine Summer explained. ‘But numbers on our roll fell so we use it for meetings now.’ Miss Jordan was already sitting at the table, as was a man I took to be the IRO. Andrew and I said hello to them and I threw Miss Jordan a reassuring smile and sat down. The IRO had his laptop open and was quietly studying the screen. I took out my notes and set them on the table in front of me, while Andrew took a folder from his briefcase.
After a few minutes the door opened and Edith, my SSW, came in. ‘I am in the right room then,’ she said and sat beside me.
‘Are we expecting anyone else?’ the IRO asked Andrew. ‘I’ve received an apology for absence from the Guardian ad Litem. Is Oskar’s mother attending? It’s two o’clock.’
‘No, she sends her apologies. She has to work.’
‘She couldn’t get the time off?’ he asked.
‘Apparently not,’ Andrew replied. ‘She’s had a lot of time off in the last month.’
‘Would it be helpful if we offered a different time for the next review?’ the IRO asked. ‘It is important she feels able to attend if she wishes to.’
‘I’ll speak to her again, but Roksana works very long hours,’ Andrew replied, and made a note.
‘So we’re all here?’ the IRO checked.
‘Yes,’ Andrew said.
‘Shall I fetch Oskar now?’ Miss Jordan asked nervously.
The IRO looked at Andrew. ‘I suggest we hear from the adults present first and then bring Oskar in towards the end.’
‘That’s fine with me,’ Andrew confirmed.
‘Let’s begin with the introductions,’ the IRO said. ‘This is the first review for Oskar. My name is Graham Hitchens, Independent Reviewing Officer.’ We then went round the table stating our names and role as the IRO typed, ending with Elaine Summer, Head Teacher. ‘And Oskar is in care under an Interim Care Order?’ he confirmed with Andrew.
‘Yes.’
The IRO finished typing and looked at me. ‘Thank you for returning the review forms.’ I was now expecting him to ask me to give my report first. It’s usual for the foster carer to go first, as they have the most up-to-date information on the child. But before he could get any further, a knock sounded on the door. We all looked over. The door opened and the school secretary took a step in. ‘One of Oskar’s uncles, Mr Nowak, is in reception,’ she said. ‘He says he is here to attend the review in place of Roksana, as she is at work.’
This was highly unusual and we looked at the IRO.
‘Was he invited?’ the IRO asked Andrew.
‘No, it’s the first I’ve heard of it.’
‘He’s been very insistent,’ the secretary said. ‘He says he’s brought some more of Oskar’s clothes and toys, as Roksana can’t take them on the bus.’
‘Mr Nowak is the one who has been bringing Oskar to school and collecting him the most,’ the Head added.
‘I met him here the afternoon Oskar was brought into care,’ Andrew said. ‘But my understanding is that he is a family friend and not a relative.’
The IRO looked thoughtful. While it was unusual for someone to arrive at a review uninvited, it wasn’t unheard of. When it had happened to me it had been an angry parent and her partner who had turned up, wanting to confront and disrupt the review. There was good reason why they’d been stopped from attending their child’s reviews, as their behaviour had been very threatening in the past. The police were called to escort them from the premises, but Mr Nowak didn’t have a track record of threatening behaviour as far as I knew.
‘What shall I tell him?’ the secretary asked, still half in and half out of the door. ‘He says he has something important to say.’
‘I think it might be prudent if we listened to him as long as he understands he won’t be staying for the whole meeting,’ the IRO suggested. Andrew agreed.
‘Perhaps you’d like to come and tell him?’ the secretary said.
Andrew stood, so too did the IRO. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said.
‘Do you want me there?’ the Head asked.
‘No, we’ll speak to him,’ the IRO replied.
The atmosphere was now rather tense and Miss Jordan was looking worried again. Her first review and it wasn’t going to plan – far from it.
‘He definitely wasn’t one of the men waiting in the car?’ I asked the Head.
‘No. I’d have recognized Mr Nowak,’ she replied.