by Cathy Glass
Having seen Oskar and his mother into the contact room I went for a short walk while contact took place, as I often did. If it was raining, I sat in the car reading or listening to the radio, as it wasn’t worth driving home. When I returned Oskar and his mother were ready to leave, as Roksana was going to work.
‘See you tomorrow,’ I said to her. She frowned, puzzled. ‘It’s Oskar’s second review.’
‘Oh, that. I can’t go,’ she replied. ‘I’ve told Andrew.’
‘That’s a pity,’ I said. She hadn’t attended Oskar’s first review and the Independent Reviewing Officer had made a point of asking Andrew to consult with Roksana to find a date and time for the next one that would suit her so she could attend. I knew Andrew wouldn’t have forgotten to do this. It was too important.
‘It’s doesn’t matter,’ she said as we left the room and then went down the corridor together. ‘My solicitor will be sent the minutes.’
But that wasn’t the point. Going to your child’s review, like arriving on time for contact, is taken by the social services as a sign of a caring parent. I am sure Roksana did care for Oskar in her own way, but she needed to show it more if she stood any chance of regaining custody of him.
‘Can’t you change your shift?’ I asked her as she signed out.
‘Not if I want to keep my job!’ she said bluntly, and with a quick goodbye she hurried out of the building.
That evening I made a few notes about what I wanted to say at Oskar’s review and put those with the review forms, ready for the following morning. The review was at 11.00 a.m., and after dinner I said a bit more to Oskar about what to expect. ‘It will be like your first review, but it is going to be held in a room at the council offices and not your school,’ I explained. ‘Instead of Miss Jordan bringing you in at the end, you will be there with me for the whole meeting.’
‘Will Miss Jordan be going?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think so. It’s the school summer holidays.’
‘And my mummy’s not going. She has to work. She always has to work,’ he grumbled. ‘That’s why I got left with those horrible men. It was her fault.’
I certainly hadn’t told him this or even suggested it. He’d drawn his own conclusion, and in some ways he was right. It wouldn’t do him any good, though, growing up thinking badly of his mother – whether he eventually returned to live with her or not.
‘It’s very difficult for your mother,’ I said. ‘She has to work long hours. Most of the people who looked after you were nice, weren’t they?’ He nodded. ‘I know those two men weren’t, but your mother didn’t know that at the time. I’m sure she is very sorry she left you with them.’
‘She never says she’s sorry,’ he said.
‘She did at contact when she first found out what had happened, remember? She was very upset.’
He accepted this with a small shrug, but I knew it would have helped him in his journey of recovery if his mother could have been more open and direct with her feelings. As far as I was aware, the matter hadn’t been spoken of again between them since it had first come out. Perhaps she thought ‘least said, soonest mended’, but that is rarely true of abuse. It often needs to be out in the open and talked about as part of the healing process.
That evening, when Oskar said goodnight to Lucy and Paula, he proudly told them he was going to all of his review and it was in the council offices and he would be wearing something smart, not his shorts and T-shirt, which is what I’d told him. They were suitably impressed.
Lucy then spent most of the evening sorting out what she was going to take with her to the music festival. They had to be at the pick-up point by nine o’clock on Thursday morning, and as she was working a late shift on Wednesday she wouldn’t have much time in the evening to pack. I knew when I saw the heap of clothes strewn across her bed that it wasn’t all going to fit in her rucksack, but I thought it best not to comment. However, as the evening wore on her frustration grew until I could hear her stomping around her bedroom. I went up.
‘All you need is a mac, your wellington boots, a couple of changes of clothes and your toiletries,’ I said. ‘You can get by without your hair straighteners and curling tongs for a few days.’
‘No, I can’t!’ she snapped. So I left her to it.
Later, she came downstairs much happier. ‘It’s sorted,’ she said. ‘Darren’s not taking much, so I’ll have some of his rucksack space.’
‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Well done, that man!’ She planted a kiss on my cheek, so I knew I was forgiven.
The following morning Oskar was excited to be going to his review and also a little anxious. ‘I hope they don’t ask me lots of questions,’ he said.
‘No, they won’t,’ I reassured him.
‘What about the indie officer?’ he asked.
It took me a moment to realize he meant the IRO – the Independent Reviewing Officer. ‘If he asks you any questions, it’s to make sure you are all right. I’ll be sitting next to you and I can answer if you don’t want to.’
‘OK,’ Oskar said.
‘Wow! You look smart!’ Paula exclaimed as she came downstairs. We were at the front door, about to leave.
Oskar grinned, pleased. He was wearing a pale-blue, long-sleeve, open-neck shirt and navy trousers I’d bought him. I like all children I foster to have a few smart outfits as well as plenty of casual clothes. We said goodbye to Paula and that we’d see her around lunchtime. Lucy had already left for work and Adrian was still on holiday with Kirsty.
Oskar was quiet in the car and then held my hand very tightly as we went into the council offices. I reassured him there was nothing to worry about. I signed us in, checked which room we were in and the receptionist gave me an ID card to hang around my neck. Small children didn’t need them, but she saw Oskar looking enviously at mine so she gave him one too. ‘Thank you,’ he beamed.
‘You’re welcome,’ she said. I thanked her too.
He held my hand again as we went upstairs and along the corridor to the meeting room. I knocked on the door and opened it. Into our line of vision came Andrew, seated on the far side of the table with Graham Hitchens, the IRO, next to him, laptop open. It’s usual to have the same IRO where possible. As we went fully into the room, we saw another face we recognized: who should be sitting on the other side of the table out of sight from the door but Oskar’s teacher, Miss Jordan!
‘Miss!’ Oskar cried at the top of his voice. Nervousness forgotten, he rushed to her and hugged her for all he was worth.
‘That’s a warm welcome,’ the IRO said.
‘Good to see you, Oskar,’ Miss Jordan said. ‘How are you? You look very well.’
Oskar didn’t reply, he was too busy hugging her. ‘He’s doing very well,’ I said. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine, thanks. Relaxed. I’ve had a week away.’
‘It’s nice of you to attend.’
‘Elaine couldn’t as she’s away and I wanted to,’ she replied. Given that it was the school summer holiday and Miss Jordan was technically no longer Oskar’s teacher, it was generous of her to give up her free time.
‘I’ve been on holiday too, Miss,’ Oskar told her, now far more relaxed.
‘Did you have a great time?’ she asked him. ‘I am sure you did.’
He nodded furiously. ‘I can swim now. Well, nearly.’
‘Fantastic. Your class will be going swimming when you return to school in September,’ she said. Oskar sat between her and me, and I handed the review forms to the IRO.
‘Thank you,’ he said. Then to Oskar, ‘Pleased to see you again, Oskar.’
Oskar smiled self-consciously.
The door opened and Tamara Hastings, the Guardian ad Litem, came in and said a general hello.
‘Are we expecting anyone else?’ the IRO asked, glancing around the table. It was now just after eleven o’cloc
k.
‘Elaine Summer, the Head, won’t be coming. She’s away,’ Miss Jordan said. ‘I believe she emailed her apology.’
‘Yes, I received it, thank you.’
‘Edith, my supervising social worker, is away too,’ I said.
‘Yes, I’ve received her apology,’ the IRO confirmed. This is the problem with holding reviews during the school holidays: many people are away.
Turning to Andrew and slightly lowering his voice, the IRO said, ‘Will Oskar’s mother be attending?’
‘No,’ Andrew replied.
‘Because of work commitments?’ he asked.
‘Yes. I tried to find a convenient time, but she works double shifts all week.’
The IRO nodded and began typing on his laptop. I saw Oskar and his teacher looking slightly serious and I smiled at them encouragingly.
‘Well, Oskar,’ the IRO said, looking up, ‘this review is about you and it is usual to start the meeting by introducing ourselves. I’ll go first. I’m Graham Hitchens, the Independent Reviewing Officer, and I shall be chairing this meeting.’
Andrew went next. ‘I’m Andrew Holmes, Oskar’s social worker.’
‘Cathy Glass, Oskar’s foster carer,’ I said.
The IRO looked encouragingly at Oskar, sitting on my right.
‘I’m Oskar,’ I whispered to him and he repeated it.
‘Thank you,’ the IRO said.
Miss Jordan and Tamara Hastings gave their names and roles and then the IRO looked at Oskar again. ‘Thank you for completing your review form. Would you like me to read it out?’ He picked it up and opened it.
‘No,’ Oskar said quietly.
‘All right,’ the IRO said, glancing through it. ‘Perhaps you can tell us how you’ve been since your last review.’
Oskar shook his head, self-conscious now everyone’s attention was on him.
‘You are still enjoying school?’ he asked, flicking through the pages of the review booklet.
‘Yes,’ Oskar said.
‘Good. And you are going to gym and have a special friend, Leo.’
‘Yes. Leo and me play at each other’s houses,’ Oskar said quietly.
‘Excellent,’ the IRO said, as the rest of us smiled. Setting the booklet to one side, he said, ‘I’ll read that later. I heard you tell Miss Jordan you’ve been on holiday. Where did you go?’
‘Crete,’ Oskar replied in the same small voice.
‘Very nice. Did you swim while you were on holiday?’
Oskar nodded. The IRO could see how self-conscious he had become and, being used to dealing with children, he said, ‘Is there anything else you would like to tell this review, or shall I ask Cathy how you are getting on?’
‘Cathy,’ he replied.
I said Oskar was doing very well but that since his last review he had disclosed abuse (which the IRO would know about) and had begun attending CAMHS. It wasn’t appropriate to go into the details of his disclosure at the review unless Oskar wanted to talk about it, which clearly he didn’t. As the IRO typed, I talked about Oskar’s routine and what he liked to do in his spare time apart from going to gym and playing with Leo. I said his dental and optician’s check-ups were up to date and I was keeping a Life Story Book for him.
‘And contact is going well?’ the IRO asked.
‘Yes, and as from this Saturday we shall be phoning Oskar’s Aunt Dol and her family once a week too.’ I explained how Oskar had been talking to them while we’d been on holiday and that he wanted to maintain phone contact and Andrew had agreed. The IRO nodded as he typed. ‘Oskar still hasn’t got any photographs of his mother and brother,’ I added.
‘I’ll ask Roksana,’ Andrew said, and made a note.
The IRO thanked me and asked Andrew to speak next, followed by Tamara Hastings. Both their reports were short and curtailed to accommodate the fact that Oskar was present. Although Oskar wasn’t saying much, he was clearly taking it all in. Andrew said he visited Oskar regularly and gave the date of his last visit and said Oskar was settled in the placement, was making good progress and the care plan remained unchanged, so Oskar would remain in long-term foster care. I assumed with me. Tamara said that although Roksana was still fighting to have Oskar returned to her, she had acknowledged he was being very well looked after in care – far better than she had looked after him. I found her honesty touching and sad.
Miss Jordan spoke next and said that, apart from some instances of negative behaviour when Oskar had become angry in the classroom, she had seen steady improvement in him since his last review. I thought she was being very generous, considering some of his outbursts. She said he was far more confident speaking in group discussion and generally seemed happier all round. She made reference to his end-of-year report, which Andrew, Roksana and I had copies of. Oskar had achieved a good average in his tests. She concluded by saying that, although she wouldn’t be his teacher when school resumed in September, she would keep a look-out for him, and he knew if he had any worries he could tell her. Her warmth and concern for Oskar were clear, as was her dedication as a teacher.
The IRO thanked her, praised Oskar for doing well and drew the meeting to a close by setting the date for the next review in November – so after the final court hearing. He thanked us all for coming, especially Oskar, and began to pack away his laptop. Andrew and Tamara put away their notepads as Miss Jordan, Oskar and I stood ready to leave.
‘Have you got a moment?’ Miss Jordan said quietly to me as we headed for the door. ‘Or do you have to rush off? I’d like to talk to you.’
‘I have time,’ I said. But I wondered what she wanted. I doubted it was to do with school, as that was closed for the summer holidays. Also, she appeared slightly nervous.
She was silent as we left the room and walked to the top of the staircase. Then, as we began down the stairs, with Oskar a few steps in front holding the handrail, she said quietly so only I could hear, ‘I’ve given this a lot of thought and I am going to apply to adopt Oskar.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Photographs
‘Oh,’ I said, pausing on the stairs, completely thrown by what Erica Jordan had just said. ‘I see.’
‘Do you think I stand a chance?’ she asked intensely.
‘Yes, although adoption is quite a complicated process.’
‘I know. I’ve been researching it online. You don’t have to be married to adopt or foster.’
‘That’s true.’ We continued down the stairs with Oskar a couple of steps ahead of us, unable to hear our conversation.
‘I have savings,’ Miss Jordan said. ‘And I would cut my hours to part-time. I live with my mother and she would help with Oskar.’
‘You’ve discussed it with her then?’
‘Oh yes, at length. She’s very much with me. Since my father left us three years ago there’s only been the two of us, so it will be good for her too.’
Clearly this wasn’t just a passing romantic notion then, but something Miss Jordan had gone into and considered seriously. ‘Have you spoken to Oskar’s social worker?’ I asked. We had arrived at the foot of the staircase and were now in reception.
‘Not yet. I wanted to speak to you first to see how best to go about it.’
‘Oskar would need to be freed for adoption by the court,’ I said. ‘Not all children who can’t live with their birth parents are suitable for adoption.’
‘You mean if they’ve got strong ties with their birth family?’
‘Yes, that’s one consideration.’
‘He hasn’t got a strong bond with his mother and he never sees his father.’ Which was true, but I didn’t want to get her hopes up. There were many other deciding factors, and a considerable percentage of those who start the process to adopt or foster don’t see it through or aren’t approved. Also, at present the care plan was that Oskar wo
uld remain in long-term foster care if he couldn’t return home. There’d been no mention of adoption, which I would have expected by now if it was being considered as an option. But care plans can change.
‘What do you think?’ Miss Jordan asked as we went to the reception desk to hand in our ID badges.
‘I think you need to speak to Andrew,’ I replied.
‘But do you think I would be suitable?’
‘Yes, I think you’d be very good, but talk to Andrew first.’
‘Thank you so much,’ she said, delighted. ‘I’ll tell Mum what you’ve said and then call Andrew.’ Oskar was looking at us now.
‘And obviously don’t mention it,’ I said, rolling my eyes towards him.
‘Oh no, I wouldn’t, not until it was definite. I know the process can take many months, but at least I’m in with a chance.’
I gave a small nod and the three of us left the building. ‘Enjoy the rest of your day,’ she said to Oskar as we parted.
‘Thank you, Miss,’ he said. Then, as we walked away, he said to me, ‘I really like Miss Jordan. She’s nice.’
‘Yes, she is,’ I agreed.
In my car I turned up the air con and headed for home, mulling over what Miss Jordan had said. Did I think she would make a suitable adoptive mother for Oskar? Yes, she was young, vibrant, slightly naive, but kind and sensitive. Would she stand any chance of being allowed to adopt him? I honestly didn’t know. Oskar wasn’t free for adoption and Miss Jordan (and her mother) hadn’t begun the assessment process to adopt, which is lengthy and in depth. There are many reasons why prospective adopters don’t succeed, and if she was approved to adopt then there was the question of whether she would be considered a good match for Oskar. I felt I’d given her the right advice in telling her to speak to Andrew, and also that I’d spoken selflessly, for I assumed that if Oskar wasn’t returning to his mother he’d stay with me.
Once home, we ate lunch with Paula and then the three of us went swimming at our local leisure centre. The pool was very busy as it was the school holidays, with children of all ages swimming, diving, laughing, splashing and generally having a good time, although there wasn’t supposed to be any deliberate splashing. It was very different from the calm of the pool we’d enjoyed on holiday and Oskar was a bit unsure to begin with, but with Paula and me encouraging him, and with us standing either side of him, he began to swim with his armbands on. We praised him and then encouraged him to take off the armbands as he’d done on holiday, and he managed a few strokes before putting his feet down. I told him we’d come swimming regularly so he could practise and gain confidence in the water.
