by Cathy Glass
‘It’s worth a try. Ask him,’ I suggested. Danny was playing on the floor not far from us and without doubt had heard what his mother had said.
‘Danny, would you like to talk to Daddy on the phone?’ she now asked him.
‘Yes,’ he said without hesitation. He immediately stood and went over to the phone. Which made me think we should have tried telephone contact sooner.
Reva passed the handset to Danny and he put it to his ear but didn’t speak.
‘Say hello to Daddy,’ Reva prompted.
‘Hello, Daddy,’ Danny said in a small voice, concentrating hard.
He listened to what his father said – which I guessed was an explanation as to why he wouldn’t be coming this afternoon and, hopefully, an apology too – but didn’t say anything. Then Richard must have said goodbye, for Danny said a very quiet ‘Goodbye’ and returned the handset to his mother.
‘Well done, Danny,’ I said to him. ‘You used the telephone.’
‘Yes, well done,’ Reva said.
But Danny didn’t look pleased. He was standing beside his mother as she said goodbye to Richard, agitatedly snapping his fingers and humming.
‘Daddy?’ Danny asked her as she replaced the handset.
‘Daddy can’t come here today,’ she said. ‘But you’ll see him tomorrow.’
The average child of six, while disappointed, would have understood and coped with the change in arrangements, but for a child like Danny it was just another confusing broken promise in a world of confusing people who said things they didn’t mean.
‘Daddy! Daddy!’ he demanded, clenching his jaw and stamping his foot.
‘Daddy can’t come,’ Reva said, immediately growing anxious.
Danny gritted his teeth, stamped his foot hard and then kicked his toy box before throwing himself on the floor and screaming. Reva looked petrified. ‘It scares me when he does that,’ she admitted.
‘That’s the purpose of it,’ I said. ‘A tantrum is designed to get what the child wants. Some tantrums are best ignored – if a child is demanding sweets, for example – but I think Danny needs some more explanation.’
I went over to him and knelt beside him.
‘Go away! I want Daddy,’ he shouted, trying to kick me.
Reva gasped.
I put my hand lightly on Danny’s leg to stop him and kept out of reach of his flailing arms. ‘Danny, don’t kick,’ I said firmly. ‘It hurts. I can understand why you’re angry, but you mustn’t kick.’ He turned his head away from me, closed his eyes and screamed. I waited until he stopped. ‘Daddy wanted to see you today but he couldn’t,’ I said calmly. ‘I know you’re sad he couldn’t come; Daddy is sad too, but it wasn’t his fault, so don’t be angry with him. You’ll see Daddy tomorrow at home.’ I paused. He was listening. ‘Soon it will be time for Mummy to go, so I want you to get up now and choose a game to play with her.’ He grew still, although his fists were still clenched and his eyes shut.
‘I know Mummy would like to play a game with you,’ I said. ‘But there won’t be time if you stay here on the floor.’
‘I would like to play a game with Danny,’ Reva said. But Danny didn’t move.
‘Perhaps Mummy would like to choose a game,’ I suggested.
‘Yes, I would,’ she said, relaxing a little now Danny was over the worst. ‘I like the game Four in a Row. We used to play that.’
‘It’s in Danny’s toy box,’ I said.
Reva stood and went towards the toy box. Danny heard her move and immediately his eyes shot open and he was on his feet. Rummaging in the toy box he took out the game and gave it to his mother.
‘Thank you. Well done,’ she said.
‘Thank you. Well done,’ Danny repeated, and Reva smiled.
‘Tantrums usually start and end quite quickly,’ I said to Reva as Danny sat beside her on the sofa ready to play the game. ‘But it can take some time for a child to recover from a meltdown. The main thing is to stay calm.’
‘Stay calm,’ Danny repeated, and planted a big kiss on his mother’s cheek.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Saving Danny
On Monday, while Reva and I were upstairs going through Danny’s bath and bedtime routine, Danny pointed to the toilet and said to his mother, ‘George scared.’
‘Yes, he is,’ Reva said, shooting me a pointed look.
I now remembered that Danny had said the same to us when he’d shown George around upstairs. He hadn’t wanted to show him that room but wouldn’t tell us the reason.
‘Why is George scared?’ I now asked Reva.
‘Shall I tell Cathy?’ she asked Danny.
Danny nodded.
‘We’d just got George, he was only small, and at the time I was trying to toilet train Danny. One afternoon when my back was turned Danny decided he’d toilet train George. He must have tried to sit George on the toilet, and either George slipped from Danny’s grasp or jumped. I found poor George under the water, just in time. Thankfully Danny hadn’t flushed it,’ she added with a brief smile. ‘Neither of them has forgotten that episode. George won’t go near our downstairs toilet, even now.’
‘Danny sorry,’ he suddenly said, showing empathy and concern.
‘I know you were, love,’ Reva said, kissing his head. ‘I didn’t blame you.’ Then turning to me she added, ‘You need eyes in the back of your head with Danny.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘You have to be so vigilant. I ask one of my children to watch Danny if I’m not in the same room as him, but it must’ve been difficult for you without Richard at home much.’
‘It was,’ Reva said. ‘Richard didn’t appreciate just how difficult it was. But he does now.’
Reva’s visit on Monday went well, then on Tuesday Danny had contact at home as usual and from what Reva said that had gone well too. When Reva arrived on Wednesday she was clearly in very good spirits and came in with a lightness in her step that I hadn’t seen before. She said she felt far more confident now parenting Danny, but also it was her wedding anniversary, and that morning Richard had given her a beautiful necklace – the one she’d previously found the receipt for and which had led her to assume (together with Richard working late) that he’d been having an affair. She said he’d also given her a card in which he’d written some lovely words. I said I was pleased for her and congratulated her on their wedding anniversary. Yet while all this was very positive, the fact remained that Richard hadn’t come to my house as he was supposed to and we were running out of time.
I said as much to Reva. ‘There’s only Friday and Sunday left if Danny is to return home as planned on Monday.’
‘Richard will come on Friday,’ Reva said. ‘He’s promised. He’ll be here at six o’clock. He won’t let you down.’
I didn’t point out that it wouldn’t be me he would be letting down, but her and Danny. ‘Richard does understand how important it is as part of the process for Danny going home that he comes, doesn’t he?’ I said, labouring the point.
‘Yes,’ Reva said. ‘He’s completely committed to having Danny home, and he has been seeing Danny at every contact. But Richard works long hours. I also think he might be a bit nervous of meeting you again.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘He’s not used to being told off,’ she said with a smile.
‘Oh, I see,’ I said. ‘Well, tell him I don’t bite.’
‘It didn’t do him any harm. In fact, you did us a big favour,’ Reva said. ‘If it wasn’t for you speaking to him, he wouldn’t have had that conversation with his parents, and we wouldn’t be in the position we are now, working towards Danny coming home. I can’t believe how close we came to losing our little boy.’ Reva’s eyes filled. ‘So a small dent in Richard’s ego won’t do him any harm.’ She kissed my cheek.
Yet despite Reva’s assurance and faith in Richard, I remained concerned that something could still come up at work to prevent him from coming on Friday, which would jeopardize Danny returning home on Monday.
&
nbsp; I needn’t have worried, for at exactly six o’clock on Friday the doorbell rang and when I answered there was Richard, looking very smart in an open-neck shirt, casual jacket and trousers.
‘Promise you won’t tell me off again?’ he said, grinning boyishly.
‘Not unless you deserve it,’ I said. ‘Good to see you again, Richard. Come in and make yourself at home.’
He kissed my cheek as he came in and appeared far more relaxed and at ease than the last time we’d met.
‘Daddy!’ Danny yelled, running the length of the hall into his arms.
Richard scooped him up and held him high above his head and they both laughed. What a difference to their last meeting, I thought, when Richard had barely been able to look at his son and couldn’t wait to get away.
‘We’ve had dinner, but I can easily fix you something,’ I offered.
‘I’m good, thanks, Cathy. I left work early so I’ve had time to go home first, change and grab a bite to eat.’
Richard set Danny down and then slipped off his jacket and hung it on the hall stand.
‘Daddy,’ Danny said, tugging at his arm.
‘So, Mister,’ Richard said, turning to Danny, and using the same term Lucy sometimes used, ‘Mummy tells me we do your homework first and then I read you a story before you have your bath.’
Danny looked impressed, and also a little bemused.
‘I take it George has been fed?’ Richard asked me.
‘Yes. Danny does that straight after his dinner.’
‘Great. Come on then, little man, let’s get that homework done and we may have time for a game as well as a story.’
Danny didn’t need telling twice and, picking up his school bag, he slipped his hand into his father’s and led him down the hall into the living room. I went with them but left them to it once they were settled. ‘Call me if you need me,’ I said.
‘Thank you, Cathy.’
Over the next hour – as Danny did his homework, played a game of toy cars with his father, which involved Richard on all fours making brum-brum noises, and then listened to a bedtime story – I kept largely out of their way. The door to the living room was open so I could hear them, and I was on hand to help if necessary. I popped in every so often, but clearly Reva had passed on much of the work we’d been doing together, and other than getting Danny over-excited (when I had to calm him down), there were no problems. Richard’s attitude to Danny was so very different from the last time I’d seen them together, when he’d appeared distant and afraid to engage with his son. Now I saw the commitment Reva had spoken of. Richard was embracing parenting Danny and accepting his quirks and differences. I also saw a very different side to Richard the person as well as the father – good-humoured and ready for a joke. Adrian, Lucy and Paula were in the house and at various times went into the living room to say hi to Richard. Each time Danny pointed to his father and said proudly, ‘My daddy.’
At seven o’clock Richard came to find me. He was holding Danny’s hand. ‘I think it’s time for Danny’s bath,’ he said.
‘Yes. I usually take him up about now.’
‘Lead on then, please,’ he said, ‘and show me what to do.’ Then to Danny he said, ‘I’m going to bath you today.’ Excellent, I thought, and Danny grinned, just like his father.
‘Be prepared – it does take a while,’ I said lightly as we began upstairs.
‘I know,’ Richard said. ‘Reva used to tell me what a battle it was to get him into bed. She was exhausted by the end of it, but then I was never home to help her. I will be in future. I didn’t realize how much she struggled. I put all her problems down to drinking.’
‘And she’s stopped drinking now?’ I asked.
‘Oh yes. Reva was never a heavy drinker. She began drinking as a way of coping, but of course it just made her feel worse. Most of our arguments were a result of that.’
I nodded.
Richard and I stood on the landing and continued talking while Danny used the toilet and washed his hands. ‘Good boy,’ I said as he came out. We waited some more as he collected his pyjamas from his bedroom and I praised him again.
Danny was pretty excited as the three of us went round the landing to the bathroom – he skipped and hopped and jumped.
‘Steady on, Mister,’ Richard said. But I could see he was pleased that Danny was so happy at having his father there.
In the bathroom Danny spent some time meticulously folding his pyjamas and adjusting his towel on the towel rail until it was to his liking. I saw Richard watching him, but he didn’t comment.
‘Patience is the key,’ I said quietly with a smile.
‘I know, I’m learning,’ Richard said.
I put the plug into the bath and turned on the taps. ‘I always run the water to the right temperature,’ I said. ‘And I never leave Danny unattended in the bath, not even for a minute.’
Richard looked serious. ‘Reva says he tries to drown himself.’
‘It’s more of a game,’ I said. ‘But I don’t encourage it, and it frightens Reva.’
‘That’s why she didn’t want him to go swimming, but I understand he’s doing all right in swimming at school.’
‘Yes. He really enjoys it now. You could try taking him swimming when he’s home, or even to the seaside,’ I suggested. ‘There are so many new experiences Danny hasn’t tried yet.’
‘There’s a lot we can and will be doing,’ Richard confirmed, which I was pleased to hear.
Danny usually undressed himself, but now his father was here he wanted his help and held up his arms so that Richard could take off his jersey.
‘What do you say to Daddy?’ I asked Danny, as usual trying to encourage him to talk more.
‘Daddy do it,’ he said.
‘Good boy,’ Richard and I chorused together.
Richard helped Danny out of his jersey and then his vest, and then Danny took off his other clothes by himself. Once the bath was full I turned off the taps and tipped in Danny’s bath toys. Richard put his hands under Danny’s armpits and lifted him over the edge of the bath into the water. He landed with a large splash, which splattered water down the front of Richard’s smart shirt.
‘Best not to wear your good clothes for baths and hair washing in future,’ I quipped.
‘Point taken,’ Richard said good-humouredly.
Danny sat happily in his bath and began playing with his toys. ‘I usually wash his back and hair while he is occupied playing,’ I explained to Richard.
Rolling up his shirt sleeves Richard knelt beside the bath. ‘It’s a long time since I gave you a bath, Mister,’ he admitted to Danny.
Danny laughed, but I think it was in response to the duck he was playing with rather than what his father had said, for I doubted ‘a long time’ was a concept for him.
I passed Richard the sponge and bath lotion and he began gently washing Danny’s back, then his neck and chest. ‘Give Danny the sponge and he’ll do the rest,’ I said to Richard. When Danny had finished washing he meticulously squeezed out the sponge and set it on the side of the bath. ‘Good boy,’ I said.
‘Now his hair,’ I said to Richard, who was looking as though he’d finished. ‘Wet his hair with this.’ I passed him the plastic beaker, and also Danny’s face flannel. ‘Hold the flannel against his forehead; it’ll keep the water out of his eyes.’ For a moment Richard looked between the flannel and the beaker as though he didn’t know what to do. ‘Come on,’ I said jokingly. ‘It’s not rocket science.’
‘But you know us blokes can’t multi-task,’ he laughed. Danny laughed too.
Richard did as I suggested and, placing the flannel against Danny’s forehead with one hand, began scooping up water in the beaker with the other. Danny was so engrossed in playing with his toys that he didn’t appear to mind his father’s rather clumsy attempts at hair washing. Once Danny’s hair was thoroughly wet I passed Richard the bath lotion. ‘Just a little squirt onto his head,’ I told him.
R
ichard applied the bath lotion to Danny’s hair, but as he began massaging it into Danny’s scalp it must have felt different to his mother’s or my touch, because Danny looked up, startled. ‘Daddy washing my hair?’ he asked, touching his father’s hand on his head to make sure.
‘Yes, I am,’ Richard said. ‘Keep nice and still. Good boy.’
Telling Danny to keep still if he had other plans was like asking an eel to stop wriggling. As Richard tried to shampoo Danny’s hair he kept ducking and moving his head from side to side so that his father had to chase it around. Danny laughed loudly and Richard smiled. It was lovely to see father and son having fun together, and to see Richard playing so unreservedly. He didn’t seem to mind that the front of his shirt was covered in globules of foam. But I also knew how frustrating these games could be if you were tired and just wanted to get Danny into bed at the end of a busy day.
‘I’ll wear my wetsuit next time,’ Richard joked.
‘Like my diving man,’ Danny said.
Once Richard had finished shampooing Danny’s hair I passed him the plastic beaker and flannel again and he carefully began rinsing the lotion from Danny’s hair. ‘I’ve tried using the shower head and that shampoo shield,’ I said, ‘but Danny doesn’t like them. I’ve found this method works best.’
Richard nodded and concentrated on rinsing Danny’s hair.
‘Good boy,’ I said.
‘Me or Danny?’ Richard laughed.
‘Both of you,’ I smiled.
I’d just reached for Danny’s towel so that Richard could towel-dry Danny’s hair in the bath before he got out when, without warning, Danny threw himself back and went under the water. Richard started. I guessed it was the first time he’d seen Danny do this.
‘Stay calm,’ I said quietly to him. ‘He’ll come up soon.’
We waited, both looking at Danny, who had his eyes and mouth shut and lay motionless under the water. After what seemed like an eternity he rose like a fish breaking through the water. ‘Danny drowning!’ he exclaimed, and looked at his father for his reaction.
While Richard’s face didn’t register panic or alarm as Reva’s had, I could see it had shocked him.
