by Cathy Glass
Once dry and changed, we had drinks in the outdoor café and Oskar had an ice cream. I watched him licking the cone as the ice cream melted, happy and contented – a completely different child to the one who’d arrived introverted, unhappy and too scared to tell what had happened to him. I knew that if he did have to leave us, my family and I would miss him dreadfully. I had to remind myself that fostering is often short term and children do return to their parents or move to an adoptive home. For this reason, many people decide fostering is not for them.
That evening, Lucy did the last of her packing and stood her rucksack and four carrier bags stuffed full of her belongings in the hall, ready for the off the following morning. She explained that Darren was arriving by cab at 8 a.m., which would take them to the coach pick-up point, so she needed to be ready.
‘How will you manage all those extra bags?’ I asked.
‘Oh Mum,’ she sighed. ‘Those are going in Darren’s rucksack. Remember? I told you.’
‘I see, so he’s not taking anything of his own then?’ For I doubted there’d be room.
‘He’s fine with it,’ she said.
‘Excellent. And the tent?’
‘He’s got it, of course.’
The following morning, I made sure I was up and dressed by 7.30 a.m. so I could see Lucy off. I left Oskar and Paula sleeping. There was no need for them to be woken to say goodbye, as Lucy was only going to be away for four days. I was in the living room, gazing through the patio doors on another warm August day, when the front doorbell rang at exactly 8 a.m. I began down the hall to answer it and let Darren in, but Lucy flew downstairs, shouting, ‘I’ve got it, Mum!’ She opened the door.
‘Are you ready?’ Darren asked her. Then seeing me, he said, ‘Hello.’
‘Hello, love. How are you?’
‘Good, thanks.’
Darren came into the hall and Lucy unhooked her jacket from the hallstand and stuffed that into a carrier bag.
‘Do you need all this?’ he now asked, realizing that the bulging rucksack and carrier bags were all hers. I thought he was being very brave.
‘Yes, I do,’ she said bluntly. ‘You said you had space in your rucksack.’
‘A little. OK. But let’s sort it out in the taxi or we’ll be late.’ It was only the second time I’d met Darren, but he struck me as an easy-going and gentle person who was probably good for Lucy.
He picked up her rucksack and a carrier bag and Lucy carried the other carrier bags. ‘Bye,’ I said.
‘Bye, Mum,’ she said, and kissed my cheek.
‘Bye,’ Darren said.
‘Have a good time!’ I called.
‘We will!’ they chorused, going down the path.
I waited on the doorstop as they clambered into the taxi, and then I waved as it drew away. I savoured the beautiful summer morning for a few moments and then returned indoors. Lucy would be back on Sunday and Adrian was returning from his walking holiday tomorrow. I liked it when all my family were home, although I appreciated they were young adults now with lives of their own.
A little after 9 a.m., when Oskar and I were having breakfast, I received a text message from Lucy: On the coach. Love you. xx
Love you too, lots. Have a great time xx, I replied.
I am sometimes asked if I feel any different towards Lucy, whom I adopted as a child, compared to Adrian and Paula – my birth children. The answer is definitely no. I love them all equally; Lucy couldn’t be any more my daughter if she’d been born to me. She’s told me she feels the same about me. I appreciate that not all adoptions work out so well, but for Lucy and me it is as though we were destined to be mother and daughter – it just took us a while to find each other. I know Adrian and Paula see her as a true sister. Of course, we have ups and downs, but so does any family. I feel very blessed to have three wonderful children of my own and be allowed to foster many others.
That afternoon Oskar had contact. Roksana arrived at the Family Centre just behind us; the door opened as I was signing the Visitors’ Book.
‘Hello, Mum,’ Oskar said.
Roksana’s head was full of other things as usual. ‘I didn’t have to go to that review,’ she said pointedly to me. ‘Andrew told me what I needed to know. I’m pleased I didn’t ask for more time off work.’
I nodded and passed the pen to her so she could sign in.
‘You all right, then?’ she asked Oskar, finally acknowledging him. We made our way along the corridor towards the contact room.
‘I went swimming yesterday,’ he said, which Roksana appeared not to hear, her thoughts still elsewhere.
‘Andrew told me you wanted a photograph,’ she said to me. ‘But I haven’t got one. They’re all on my phone and it’s expensive to print them out.’
‘I thought it would be nice for Oskar to have a photo of you and Luka in his bedroom. If you send a photo to my phone, I could print it out,’ I suggested. ‘You have my phone number.’
‘Oh yes. Good idea,’ she said. I felt I’d said something right.
I saw them into the contact room, wished them a nice time and left. Roksana must have begun going through the photographs on her phone straight away, I assumed with Oskar helping her choose what to send, for as I walked my phone bleeped every minute or so with a texted photograph. Fifteen minutes later it fell silent and I sat on a park bench and went through them.
Roksana had sent me sixteen photographs in all, not just of her and Luka, but also of Oskar’s Aunt Dol, Uncle Ivan and cousins Sabiny and Tamary. It was lovely being able to put faces to their names and I could see the family likeness, especially in Luka. He was an older version of Oskar, but thinner and paler, and because of his disabilities he leant heavily to one side. In some of the photographs he was in a wheelchair. In another he was in bed, I assumed at home, with the whole family grouped around him. Another shot showed him in a hospital bed with just his mother leaning in beside him to take a selfie. She was smiling, but behind her smile I could see the pain in her eyes. Now, more than ever before, I appreciated just how much stress and worry she was under. Heavily in debt, with a sick child back home and working ridiculously long hours to support him and Oskar, whom she wanted a better life for. I’d known all this before, but something in her eyes in that photo, which I guessed had been taken when just she and Luka were alone in a hospital room, seemed to capture the extent of her burden, and my heart went out to her. She was trying to do her best, but the odds were stacked against her.
I decided that, when I got home, I’d print out all the photos and then Oskar could choose a few that I would enlarge and put in frames for his bedroom. The rest we could put in a photograph album to keep them in good condition. I knew how much family photographs meant to children in care and how often they would be looked at and treasured.
When I returned to collect Oskar I thanked Roksana for the photos. ‘It’s OK,’ she said and, calling goodbye, she rushed out of the room to go to work.
‘Mummy gets in trouble and loses money if she’s late for work,’ Oskar told me.
That evening I uploaded the photographs to my computer, where we could view them on the larger screen. Oskar was delighted as I printed them out. He chose one to be enlarged and framed – a group photo of his mother, Luka, him, his aunt, uncle and cousins. There was also a dog in the photo, which he told me was his cousins’.
‘Would you like a framed photo of just your mother and Luka as well?’ I asked him.
He shook his head. ‘They are all my family,’ he replied.
The following morning we went into the high street so he could choose a frame for the enlarged photo and also an album for the others. As well as the photographs from his mother, he had plenty I’d taken of his time with us, which were in his Life Story Book. Foster carers are expected to begin a Life Story Book for the child or children they are fostering. It is a record of the child’
s time with the carer and includes photographs, sometimes video clips stored on a USB and memorabilia – for example, the child’s drawings, and merit certificates from school. It’s an aide-mémoire, which the child takes with them if they leave to supplement their own memories of their time in care and help make sense of their past.
Once home, I helped Oskar put the enlarged photo into the frame and the smaller photos into the album. He proudly showed them to Paula – the only one in – then positioned the framed photo on a shelf in his bedroom so he could see it from his bed. He put the album under his pillow.
That afternoon I took him swimming and in the evening Adrian returned home from holiday, having first dropped off Kirsty at her home. He looked very well and was tanned from being outside and walking in the Lake District. He’d brought back a gift of a tin of locally made shortbread biscuits. Over a cup of tea he told me of the walks they’d covered and showed me photographs of the beautiful scenery, some with him and Kirsty in the foreground. It looked idyllic and clearly they’d had a lovely time. He then asked me if I’d heard from Lucy since she’d been away, and I said only that she’d texted to say they’d caught the coach.
‘So you haven’t seen any photos?’ he asked, a smile playing on his lips.
‘No. Have you?’
‘Yes.’ He grinned. ‘Lucy probably thought you wouldn’t approve.’
‘What! Show me, please,’ I said, immediately concerned.
‘OK, but it wasn’t me.’
I looked at the photographs on Adrian’s phone. The first one was of Lucy in purple shorts and matching belly top, and Darren in shorts, both painted like rainbow fish and drinking beer from plastic cups. In the second, she was on his shoulders with a beer in her hand, swaying to the music. The third showed Darren crawling out of the tent bleary-eyed from the night before. I laughed.
‘Remember, you didn’t see them from me,’ Adrian said, putting away his phone.
‘OK.’ But there was nothing shocking about the photos, and I thought what a quaint perception my children had of me. They clearly couldn’t imagine that I’d partied when younger, probably because they’ve always seen me in the role of responsible adult. Pity I didn’t have photos of some of the events and parties I’d attended, or maybe it wasn’t!
Adrian then produced his washing. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘There was always a long queue for the washer-dryers in the hostels.’
‘No worries. We can do it tomorrow.’
Paula returned home from seeing a friend and was pleased to see Adrian again. I discovered that she too had received photographs from Lucy. ‘I’ve been left out,’ I said, pouting and pretending to be offended.
Adrian or Paula must have then texted Lucy, for about ten minutes later a very sedate and posed selfie arrived on my phone: Lucy and Darren fully clothed, no body art, sitting on the grass and smiling demurely into the lens.
Having a nice time, the accompanying text read.
Great. Thanks for sending. Love, Mum, I replied.
Paula, Oskar and I visited my mother on Saturday; Adrian was going on Sunday, and Lucy would come with us the next time we went. We had lunch out and were able to sit in the restaurant garden to eat. Oskar told Mum it was like being on holiday and he was having a fun time, which obviously pleased her. That evening, once home, we phoned his mother and as usual her conversation with Oskar was very limited and, if I’m honest, awkward. She just didn’t know how to talk to him. Oskar was looking forward to talking to his Aunty Dol, which he knew he would be doing after. He told his mother he had to go, as he was about to speak to her. Fortunately, she didn’t take offence. Indeed, I’m not sure she was even aware of his curtness.
I left the phone on speaker as I keyed in Dol’s number. Andrew had asked me to monitor this phone contact, as I was doing with Oskar’s phone calls to his mother. Dol answered. ‘It’s Cathy,’ I said. ‘Oskar’s carer.’
‘Yes, of course. Roksana said you might phone.’
‘Is this a good time to talk?’ I asked.
‘Perfect.’
‘How are you all?’
‘Very well, thank you. And you?’
‘Good. Oskar is sitting beside me, eager to talk, so I’ll put him on now.’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Hello, Aunty Dol,’ he said, a smile spreading across his face.
‘Hello, love. Are you back from holiday?’
‘Yes, but Cathy’s taking me swimming, and today we’ve been to see Nana, her mother, so it’s like a holiday.’ They began chatting easily and the conversation flowed. After a while Dol said that Ivan was out, but Luka, Sabiny and Tamary were there waiting to talk to him. She put Luka on first and then his cousins took turns. I kept quiet as they all talked, for this was Oskar’s phone contact. Now I’d seen their photographs, they were no longer just voices on a phone, but real people I felt I was getting to know.
The children passed the phone backwards and forwards between them for nearly half an hour and then the conversation began to dry up, so I suggested they say goodbye and we’d phone again next Saturday. Dol came back on to say goodbye and thanked me for phoning. She said Ivan would be sorry he missed the call, but he would speak to Oskar next week.
After we’d said goodbye Oskar went quiet and when I asked him what the matter was he said he missed them. Although he’d only been seeing them once a year, he had spoken to them regularly on the phone when he’d lived with his mother, so their bond was stronger than it might otherwise have been. I suggested he fetch his photograph album so we could look at their pictures. He brought it downstairs and we sat in the living room, looking at their photos and talking about his extended family until he’d brightened up, then he returned the album under his pillow for safe keeping.
On Sunday Paula and I took Oskar swimming again. He was gradually gaining confidence in the water and each time we went he managed to do a few more strokes without his armbands.
That evening Lucy returned home. She’d texted to say she was on her way and when I heard the front door open I went into the hall. ‘I’m knackered!’ she sighed, staggering in under the weight of her rucksack and bags. ‘I need a shower!’
‘Is Darren coming in?’ I asked.
‘No, he has to get home. We are both on an early shift tomorrow.’
‘Oh dear. But you had a good time?’
‘Too good.’
She disappeared upstairs and a minute later I heard the shower running for ages, then it went very quiet. Wondering if she was all right, I went up and found her fast asleep in bed. She must have been exhausted. I quietly took the two bags of dirty washing downstairs and left her to sleep. The following morning she slept through her alarm, and by the time I woke her she had to rush to work without breakfast.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Break My Heart
At the start of the six-week school summer holiday it seems promisingly endless as the lazy days of summer stretch out far ahead. Then suddenly it’s all over and time to start thinking about the new term in September. The last week of August slipped by with days out, swimming and another play date with Leo. I also took Oskar shopping for a new school uniform and shoes, as he’d outgrown his present ones. He wasn’t looking forward to returning to school, but a lot of children feel that way. I knew that once he was in the routine again he’d be all right, as he enjoyed school.
I hadn’t heard any more about the case against Oskar’s abusers, but I was aware it could take many months, even a year, before it went to court. I assumed that Andrew would tell me what I needed to know when the time came. He was away on holiday for two weeks at the end of August and beginning of September, but Edith visited at short notice the day before school returned, which didn’t please Oskar. I’d already told him we’d make the most of our last day and have an outing, which now had to be shortened. ‘I’m not talking to her,’ he groaned moodily when th
e doorbell rang, and went to his room.
Edith completed the first part of her visit without him and then I called him down, as she had to see him during her visit to make sure he was being well looked after. He gave mumbled single-word answers to her questions and then said, ‘Are you done?’ and, without waiting for a reply, returned to his room. Edith looked a bit put out, but I thought, as a supervising social worker, she should appreciate that children in care sometimes get frustrated by having their lives disrupted. I can remember a time in fostering when there wasn’t constant monitoring and carers just got on with it. In many respects it was preferable for the child, as long as the care they were being given was good. Once Edith had left, we had lunch and then, as it was raining, I took him to the cinema, which saved the day.
The first morning back at school is always a wrench, but it was made easier for Oskar by his friendship with Leo, which had been building during the summer holiday. As soon as they saw each other in the playground they ran off to play, while I talked to Leo’s mother, Julia, whom I’d got to know better from all the play dates. She was a lovely lady and mentioned again that she and her husband would like to foster when Leo was older, but he could be a handful sometimes. This was a side of Leo I hadn’t seen; like many children, he was on his best behaviour in the company of a friend’s parent.
At the end of the first day back at school Oskar came out with the rest of his class and his new class teacher, Mrs Williams, followed by Miss Jordan with her new class. She was scanning the playground, apparently looking for me, and then came over. She seemed worried.