Cathy Glass - Too Scared to Tell

Chapter Six

The rest of the day flew by with housework, my part-time clerical work and then preparing dinner for later, which I tried to do well in advance if there was a social worker visiting us after school. They often stayed for a number of hours, especially when a child was first placed, as there was always a lot to get through. I made a casserole, so it just needed popping in the oven half an hour before we wanted to eat. I messaged our Glass WhatsApp group to remind Adrian, Paula and Lucy that Oskar’s social worker was likely to still be here when they arrived home. Although they were used to finding strangers in our living room, I liked to forewarn them when possible, out of courtesy, really – it was their home, after all. Also, it minimized the chance of Lucy embarrassing herself with expletives if she returned home from a trying day at work. She loved working with the children at the nursery, but she didn’t always see eye to eye with the management and tended to let off steam when she first arrived home.

That afternoon as I drove to Oskar’s school, it crossed my mind that the men in the black car could be there again despite the Head Teacher speaking to them. But as I parked in my usual place a little way from the school and made my way towards the main gate there was no sign of them. Hopefully that was the end of it, although I was still puzzled and unsettled by their interest in Oskar.

The playground slowly filled with parents and carers waiting to meet their children from school. Miss Jordan had told me that Oskar had one good friend in school, and once he was more settled with us I would ask him if he would like to invite his friend home on a play date and to stay for tea. But for now, he was still adjusting to his new life with us.

The klaxon sounded from inside, signalling the end of school, and the classes began to exit the building with their form teachers. I saw Oskar straight away, standing beside Miss Jordan, and they appeared to be looking for me in the sea of faces. I gave a little wave. Miss Jordan spotted me, said something to Oskar and they came over.

‘Hello,’ she said with a smile. ‘Elaine told me about the car and she asked me to check everything is OK.’ She looked past me to the road outside. Oskar was looking too.

‘It’s not here,’ I confirmed. ‘Thank you for your help and thanks to the Head too.’

‘You’re welcome. I’m sure it’s dealt with, but let us know straight away if you are worried at all. I’ve told Oskar that he is safe in school and he must tell me if he sees the car again.’

‘Thank you,’ I said again. She was so caring and pleasant, as was the Head.

We said goodbye and Oskar slipped his hand into mine as we left the playground. Despite my assurance that the car wasn’t there, I saw him looking up and down the road as we walked. ‘It’s not here,’ I told him. ‘I’ve checked.’

He didn’t reply, but again I wondered why he was so worried if they were really friends of the family watching out for him. I would mention it to his social worker.

‘Andrew is coming to see us after school today,’ I told him as I opened the rear car door for him to get in. Oskar accepted this as he accepted most things – resolutely and in silence. ‘He will want to spend some time talking to you to make sure you’re all right,’ I continued as I started the car and pulled away. ‘Then you will probably be able to go off and play while he talks to me.’ This was the usual format of these visits, although so far Oskar hadn’t really shown much interest in ‘playing’. He’d done a jigsaw while I’d been talking on the telephone, but that was all. ‘Do you watch television at home?’ I asked him as I drove.

‘Sometimes,’ he said.

‘If you tell me what your favourite programmes are, I can stream them so you can watch them on the television or my tablet.’ He didn’t reply, so I asked, ‘What do you usually do in the evenings and at weekends?’

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?’