Cathy Glass - Saving Danny

‘George is in bed,’ I said, hoping this was the right answer. ‘And you’ll see Mummy tomorrow at school,’ I added.

‘Daddy?’ he asked.

‘I expect Daddy’s at your house.’ I didn’t know if this was true, but it seemed a reasonable assumption given that Danny lived with both his parents and it was evening. Danny accepted this.

‘Would you like to say goodnight to Adrian, Paula and Lucy?’ I asked him. He looked away awkwardly and didn’t reply, so they said goodnight to him.

I offered Danny my hand to hold but he didn’t take it, so I led the way into the hall. As we passed the living room he looked in to check on the Lego. ‘We can leave the Lego as it is until tomorrow,’ I said.

He gave a small nod, and then came with me down the hall. Adrian had previously taken Danny’s holdall upstairs and placed it in his bedroom. As we passed the spot in the hall where the holdall had been Danny stopped and pointed.

‘Your bag is in your bedroom,’ I said.

Then he pointed to his coat, now hanging with ours on the coat stand. ‘Your coat is with ours ready for when we go out in the morning,’ I said.

He wasn’t reassured and began waving his arms agitatedly.

‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘Your coat will be safe there.’

He flapped his arms more vigorously and then began rocking back and forth on his heels while making a low humming noise, clearly heading for another tantrum.

‘Enough, Danny,’ I said firmly. ‘I need to know what you want so I can help you.’

He started tugging at his coat, so I assumed he wanted it, but it was too high up for him to unhook.

‘OK. Stop,’ I said. ‘I’ll reach it down for you once you’re calmer,’ and I waited for him to relax. While giving him his coat wasn’t an issue – he could take it upstairs with him if it made him feel more secure – I didn’t want him to think that throwing a tantrum would get him what he wanted. He had some language skills and he needed to use them.

Gradually Danny grew still and became less agitated, so I took his coat from the stand and gave it to him. He didn’t put it on or clutch it protectively to his chest as he had done before; instead, he began reaching up to the coat stand again.

‘Do you want to hang it up yourself?’ I asked, having seen many toddlers do this.

Danny nodded.

‘Would you like me to lift you up so you can reach it?’

He nodded again.

He let me put my hands around his waist, and I lifted him up until he was high enough to hook his coat onto the stand. Then I set him on the floor again.

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, without looking at me.

‘You’re welcome. It’s always best to try to tell me what you want, then I’ll know and can help you.’

I offered him my hand to hold to go upstairs but again he refused it, using the banister rail for support instead. Upstairs I showed him where the toilet was and asked him if he needed help. He shook his head, so I waited outside. I heard the toilet flush and then the taps run. He came out and I led the way to his bedroom.

‘This is your bedroom,’ I said. ‘I hope you like it. It will be better once you’ve got your things around you.’

Danny didn’t comment, nor did he look around the room, but he went to his holdall and unzipped it. At the top lay a soft-toy rabbit, which he picked up and held lovingly to his cheek.

‘George,’ he said with a small sigh, and for the first time since he’d arrived I saw him smile.

I was upstairs for two hours helping Danny get ready for bed. He didn’t have a huge amount in his holdall – there was a couple of changes of clothes, pyjamas, a towel and wash bag – but Danny insisted on unpacking it all himself, and he was very precise. First he spent some time deciding which drawers to put his clothes in, then he spent a long time arranging them and rearranging them until, mindful of the time, I began chivvying him along. Once he was satisfied that his clothes were in the right drawer and positioned correctly he spent more time arranging his soft toy rabbit on the pillow, repositioning it in a number of different places.

‘It won’t ever be quite the same as at your house,’ I said, for clearly Danny couldn’t replicate exactly what he had at home.

But Danny continued until he was satisfied, and then finally changed into his pyjamas, neatly folding the clothes he’d taken off and placing them squarely at the foot of his bed, as I guessed he did at home. Eventually we went round the landing and into the bathroom. I showed him where everything was, and he spent some time arranging his towel and wash things beside ours. He was probably the most precise and self-sufficient six-year-old I’d ever come across, yet at the same time there was a vulnerability about him that was younger than his years.

‘You can have a bath tomorrow evening,’ I told him. ‘There isn’t time tonight. A good wash will be fine for now.’

Danny didn’t object and I placed the childstep in front of the hand basin so that he could comfortably reach into the bowl. He then spent some moments repositioning the step, squaring it, before he was satisfied and finally stood on it. I put the plug into the sink and turned on the taps. Danny turned them off, and then on again, wanting to do it himself.

‘The water is hot,’ I said, turning down the hot tap. ‘I need to help you with this.’ His face set; he didn’t like my interference, but he was six, and in some things he had to accept my help for his own safety. ‘Hot water can burn you,’ I told him.

He didn’t reply but stared blankly at the sink. I ran the water and checked the temperature. ‘That’s fine now,’ I said. ‘Do you want me to wash your face, or can you do it?’

There was pause before he picked up his flannel, folded it in half and half again, carefully submerged it in the water, squeezed it out and began washing his face. ‘Good boy,’ I said.

As Danny washed and dried his face and then cleaned his teeth, I saw there was something measured, almost ritualistic, in the way he performed the tasks. I guessed he carried them out exactly the same way every evening. In cleaning his teeth he carefully unscrewed the cap of his toothpaste, set the cap to one side, squirted a precise amount of paste onto his toothbrush, put down the brush, screwed the cap back on the paste and then began cleaning his teeth. Such exactness was very unusual for a child, and of course it was a slow process. I realized we would have to start the bedtime routine earlier in future. When Danny brushed his teeth the movement was so regular that it created a little rhythm as the brush went back and forth over his upper front teeth, then the left and right, and the same on his lower teeth. But he appeared content, as though he enjoyed the feel of it. I began to think he could continue indefinitely, so eventually I said, ‘You’ve done a good job, Danny. You can rinse out now.’

There was a pause before he did as I’d asked. Then he patted his mouth dry on his towel and returned it to the rail, where he spent some moments squaring it before he was satisfied. I wondered how much of his precise and ritualistic behaviour was because he was anxious and how much was just part of Danny. He was certainly an unusual little fellow, and I clearly had a lot to learn about him.

It was now nearly nine o’clock, and while I’d been upstairs Adrian, Lucy and Paula had come up and were in their rooms getting ready for bed. As Danny and I went round the landing I pointed out everyone’s bedrooms, but he didn’t want to look in.

‘If you need me in the night, call out and I’ll come to you,’ I said. ‘There is a night light on the landing, but I don’t want you wandering around by yourself. So call me if you need me.’ I told all the children this on their first night, although given Danny’s lack of language I doubted he would call me. I was a light sleeper, though, and usually woke if a child was out of bed. We continued into his bedroom. ‘Do you want your curtains open or closed?’ I asked him, as I asked all children when they first arrived.