Cathy Glass - Saving Danny

Downstairs again, I quickly slipped on my shoes and coat and, grabbing my bag and keys, headed out the front door. I felt the adrenalin kick in and my pulse quicken as I jumped into my car and then drove in the direction of Danny’s school. Poor little mite, I thought. He went to school as usual this morning, expecting to return home to his parents at the end of day, and then his mother and a social worker arrived to tell him he’s going to live with a foster carer – a complete stranger. How devastating, especially for a child like Danny, who already had problems. Little wonder he’d run off. I hoped he’d been found and was calmer now.

I turned into Yew Road where Danny’s school was and the first thing I saw was a police car parked outside, with its lights casting a moving glow over the front of the school building and nearby houses. With a stab of fear I thought the police’s presence must have something to do with Danny. I parked in the road, a little back from the police car, and got out. His school, Yew Primary, like many in the area, had a small tarmac playground at the front and grass playing fields at the sides and rear, which were flanked by shrubs and trees. As I hurried along the pavement and then across the front playground I could see torch lights flickering over the playing fields to the right of the building and hear voices calling, ‘It’s OK, Danny! There’s nothing to be frightened of!’ and ‘Danny, are you there?’ So Danny hadn’t been found and was still out there in the cold and dark.

I went in the main door, which was no longer security locked as it would have been during the day, and then through the empty reception and into the corridor beyond. All the lights were on, but it was eerily quiet and empty. I didn’t know the building, but the layout was clear. It was single storey and I hurried along the corridor towards the door that led out to the playing fields. All the classrooms I passed were empty. School finished at 3.30 and I assumed the staff that hadn’t gone home were probably on the playing field looking for Danny. I pushed open the door at the end of the corridor and stepped outside. A security light flashed on overhead. I could see three torch beams flickering along the edges of the fields as they searched the shrubbery, and male and female voices were calling Danny’s name. Then one female voice came closer.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked, stepping out of the dark to stand beside me.

‘I’m Cathy Glass, Danny’s foster carer.’

‘Hello. I’m Terri, Danny’s social worker,’ she said. ‘Thank you for coming. It’s a nightmare. I called the police. There are two officers as well as some of the staff looking for him. The police and the caretaker have the torches, but there’s no sign of Danny. Goodness knows where he is.’ In the light of the security lamp I could see Terri looked very stressed and worried, with good reason. She was average height, mid-thirties, with short brown hair, and was dressed in a quilted winter jacket and jeans.

‘How long has he been out here?’ I asked.

‘Nearly an hour now. He has his coat on, thank goodness – or did have, when he fled. It all seemed to be going well, but when his mother began to say goodbye to him, he flipped. He kicked her and ran off crying and screaming. He’s been out here ever since.’

‘Is it possible he’s not in the school grounds?’ I asked, concerned.

‘We’ve searched the building twice,’ Terri said. ‘The police have said once we’ve finished searching the grounds, if we haven’t found him they’ll widen the search and bring in the police helicopter. He could have got out of the school grounds, but it’s unlikely. He would’ve had to scale a six-foot-high fence, which runs all around the perimeter.’

‘What can I do?’ I asked.

‘Help search,’ Terri said. ‘We’re taking it in sections. Come with me.’

I went with her across the dark, damp playing fields as torch beams flickered in the shrubbery like ghostly will-o’-the-wisps. Without a torch visibility was only a few metres, and then all you could see were shadows. I wished I’d brought a torch, but then I hadn’t known Danny was still out here. I followed Terri to a section of the perimeter where no one else was searching and we began peering in and around the bushes, all the time calling Danny’s name. ‘Danny’ echoed in the darkness behind us as the others searching also called his name. We were concentrating on any movement, sound or irregular dark shadow that could be a young boy hiding, huddled small with fear, but there was nothing. I felt a growing dread that he had managed to leave the school grounds, for I knew from experience that when a child is very distraught they can scale heights and run distances they wouldn’t be able to normally. Terri must have been thinking the same thing, for after a few minutes she turned from where she was looking and said, ‘I think we need to bring in the police helicopter now and look outside the school.’

Yet just as we turned to head back to the school, a male voice came from the far side of the playing field: ‘Found him!’

‘Thank God,’ Terri gasped.

We hurried across the dark field in the direction of the voice. The others were doing the same – those with torches had their beams pointed a little ahead, lighting their way. As we drew close to where the voice had come from I saw that it was one of the police officers who had found Danny. His torch was tucked under his arm, and he was holding Danny against his chest. All I could see of Danny was the back of his head and coat.

‘Thank you so much,’ Terri said to the officer.

‘Well done,’ his colleague said to him.

The other searchers had arrived and we formed a small circle around the officer and Danny. ‘You’re OK now, son, aren’t you?’ the officer said gently to Danny.

Danny didn’t reply. His face was buried in the officer’s jacket and his little hands, knuckle-white, gripped his lapels for all he was worth.

‘Thank goodness we found you,’ Terri said, taking a step closer to Danny.

‘Good boy,’ another female voice added.

‘We’ll go into your school now,’ the police officer holding Danny said in a calm and reassuring voice. ‘Then, if you’re all right, you can go home.’

‘To his foster home,’ Terri corrected.

Danny didn’t speak or move.

‘So you’re going to stay with a foster carer,’ the officer said, trying to reassure him ‘That’ll be nice.’

Danny didn’t say anything and remained motionless. The officer turned and began towards the school, and the rest of us followed. As we entered through the door at the rear of the building Danny chanced to peep out and I caught sight of his little round face with pale cheeks and blue eyes wide with fear.

‘Hi, love,’ I said gently. ‘I’m Cathy, your foster carer.’

He buried his head in the officer’s jacket.

Inside the school we congregated in one of the classrooms. We could see each other properly now with the lights on. Three members of staff who’d been on the field helping in the search said that now Danny had been found they’d go home. Terri thanked them and they called goodbye as they left. Then the caretaker said he’d go and start to lock up and would we let him know when we were going.

‘Thanks, Sam,’ a young woman said. Then she introduced herself to me. ‘I’m Sue Bright, Danny’s teacher.’

‘Hello. Cathy Glass, Danny’s foster carer,’ I said with a smile.

The police officer carrying Danny sat on one of the children’s school chairs while the other officer stood by the closed classroom door – possibly to stop Danny if he tried to run off again, although that didn’t seem likely. He remained very quiet and still, with his face buried in the officer’s chest so that only his mop of blond hair was visible.