Too Scared to Tell

by Cathy Glass

  ‘This is Paula, Cathy’s daughter,’ Oskar said, introducing her. ‘She’s like my sister, so is Lucy.’ Immediately I choked up.

  ‘Hello,’ Luka said. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Good, thanks. Nice to meet you. How are you?’

  ‘I live with my cousins, Saby and Tamy,’ Luka told her. ‘They are like sisters to me. Here they come to talk to Oskar.’

  The girls appeared, vying with each other to get their faces on screen. Paula waved and said hello and then left Oskar to speak to them. As they chatted and laughed, I felt we were like one big extended family. As well as seeing them, we could also see some of the rooms in their house in the background as they moved around the downstairs, which was good for Oskar as it helped familiarize him with his new home. It was over ten months since he’d last been there. From what I could see, the house was plain, with basic furniture and no frills. I knew from what Andrew and Roksana had told me they lived quite frugally and there wasn’t anything left over after all the bills were paid. Roksana sent money for Luka’s keep but couldn’t help further as she was paying off a big debt.

  The phone eventually found its way to Ivan, and Oskar asked if he could show him the work he was doing upstairs.

  ‘Not until it’s finished,’ he said. ‘But I’ll show you my workshop.’ He took us out through the back door, across a yard, and into what looked like an old cowshed. ‘This place used to be a farm,’ he said for my benefit. ‘But all the animals went years ago.’ I nodded.

  The shed was crammed full of pieces of wood of different shapes and sizes. ‘That’s going to be part of the new wall for Oskar’s bedroom,’ he said, pointing to a large sheet of plywood supported on a wooden frame. ‘I’m taking a piece off the main bedroom,’ he told Oskar. ‘Don’t worry, it will have its own door.’

  I thought how kind it was of him to go to all this trouble when he already worked long hours on a construction site.

  We went outside again and as we returned to the house we could see other outbuildings from when the place had been a working farm, but they were all in a state of disrepair now. I wondered how Luka managed to get around in his wheelchair on the uneven gravel and mud surfaces of the yard.

  Indoors, Ivan passed the phone back to Luka and the boys talked some more. Luka was now in the living room where a log fire burned in a stone hearth. After an hour, Dol told Luka to say goodnight as it was his and his cousin’s bedtime.

  ‘We’re two hours ahead of you,’ she reminded us, and we all said goodbye. Before I cut the call, I asked Dol if it was all right for us to Skype tomorrow as Andrew had suggested.

  ‘Yes, of course, but we may have to limit the one on Wednesday as it’s a school day.’

  ‘Agreed,’ I said.

  As I closed Skype, I thought Oskar was the happiest I’d seen him. ‘You’ve got a lovely family,’ I said.

  ‘I love them,’ he declared. But then his face fell. ‘I love Mummy too. I wish she could come with me.’

  ‘I know. You’ll miss her, but you’ll be able to phone her.’ It was the only comfort I could offer him. I knew that in the weeks to follow, before he left, he was going to struggle, looking forward to living with his brother, while worrying about leaving his mother behind. I would keep him busy, stay positive and reassure him as best I could. Although Andrew had said he was aiming to move Oskar in the middle to end of November, I knew from experience that delays happened, and it was very unsettling for the child and their family.

  The first week in November the temperature dropped and the weather turned cold as a bitter north-easterly wind blew. Edith visited for one of her scheduled meetings. She didn’t stay long as she was running late and had another meeting straight after. We discussed how Oskar was coping and what I was doing to smooth his transition home. She mentioned some foster training for the following year she thought I could facilitate. I agreed in principle but pointed out that it would depend on who I was fostering. If it was a baby with contact every day, I’d be pushed to fulfil my own training obligations, let alone spend days planning and giving training. She put my name down anyway, checked and signed my log notes, then, with a quick look around the house, said she’d see me at Oskar’s review the following week, and left. As always, I couldn’t help but compare Edith with my previous SSW, Jill, and there was no comparison! Supervising social workers vary in their passion for their work, and whereas Jill was one of the best, Edith was only adequate. I sometimes felt her heart wasn’t really in it, as Jill’s had been.

  The forms for Oskar’s third review arrived. The review was scheduled for Monday at two o’clock at his school. I filled in my form straight away while I had the chance, stating how much progress Oskar had made during his stay with us and what a lovely boy he was to look after, although he sometimes showed his frustration through angry outbursts, which was understandable. That evening I sat with Oskar as he filled in his form to help him with his spelling of some of the words. His replies were a predictable mixture of happy, sad and angry. He said he wanted to live with his brother and mother, although he knew that wasn’t possible.

  Friday, 5 November, was Bonfire Night, so Paula and I took Oskar to a firework display at his school. Adrian and Lucy were out at displays with their partners. It was held on the playing field at the side of Oskar’s school, and as well as the fireworks and a roaring bonfire, there was food and drink. Leo wasn’t at the display, but many of Oskar’s classmates were, and every so often a child appeared out of the dark with a parent to say hi to Oskar. He was far more sociable now than he was when he’d first arrived, and I felt sure he’d make friends at his new school once he’d brushed up on the language. I’d mentioned this to Dol when we’d Skyped, for I’d only ever heard Oskar speak English. They were all bilingual and Dol didn’t see a problem. She felt sure that once Oskar was living with them and attending school he’d soon become fluent again in the language he’d learnt as a younger child. She now sometimes switched between languages when they talked on the phone to get him used to it, which put me to shame, as I’m not fluent in any second language.

  The Head Teacher’s office was used for the review on Monday afternoon, as their meeting room was already in use. The Head attended, as did Mrs Williams, Edith, Andrew and the Guardian. Roksana and the art therapist from CAMHS sent their apologies. Graham Hitchens was again the IRO. Mrs Williams asked if she could give her report first so she could return to her class, and he agreed. In essence she said that Oskar continued to make reasonably good progress academically, although his learning was suffering because he was unsettled by the forthcoming move. She asked if a moving date had been set yet and Andrew replied it hadn’t, but he’d inform the school as soon as it was decided. Mrs Williams confirmed Oskar was still a good average, participated in group discussion and had made more friends. She finished by wishing him well for the future and said the class would make him a leaving card with their photographs in it to remember them by. The IRO thanked her and she then left to return to her class.

  Elaine Summer said a few words, more or less reiterating what Mrs Williams had said – that Oskar had made steady progress during his time in the school and continued to do so, considering all that was going on in his private life. She said that now the decision had been made about where Oskar would permanently live, she hoped he’d be able to start his new life soon, and wished him well for the future.

  I gave my report next. Clearly, much had happened since Oskar’s last review in August and I gave a résumé, concentrating on the positives, including gym and swimming, which he still loved. I mentioned CAMHS, and how contact was going with his brother, his aunt and her family, which was obviously important.

  ‘And contact with his mother?’ the IRO asked.

  ‘It’s just two days a week and generally it’s about the same.’

  ‘Thank you,’ the IRO said. ‘I assume you’ll keep in touch with Oskar after he leaves?’

&n
bsp; ‘Oh yes, for as long as he wants to.’

  ‘Will you still foster?’ he asked, which had nothing to do with the review and surprised me a little.

  ‘Yes, why?’ I asked.

  ‘I just wondered if you were thinking of retiring. You’ve been fostering a long time.’

  I smiled. ‘No, I’ve no plans to retire yet.’

  ‘Good,’ Elaine said.

  Andrew went next and began by talking about the outcome of the court hearing, the legal complexities of Oskar’s case – a child in care going to live in another country. He said his visit to Dol and Ivan had gone well and their assessment was nearly complete, and that he’d visited the school Oskar would be attending, which I already knew. He said that phone contact between Oskar and his mother had been stopped in preparation for the move, and he was hoping that would take place at the end of November or early December. Once he’d finished his report, the IRO read out a short report from CAMHS, which basically said that Oskar was only part way through the therapy and needed more.

  ‘Will Oskar receive therapy after the move?’ the IRO asked Andrew.

  ‘That’s one of the issues I’m looking into,’ Andrew said. ‘There is no direct equivalent of CAMHS in Oskar’s home country, but we may be able to fund some private therapy if necessary. Dol and Ivan are very practical, down-to-earth people and feel that once Oskar has settled in with them the bad things that happened to him here will fade and he won’t need therapy, but the offer is there.’

  Edith went next and said much the same as she usually did: that her role was to supervise, support and monitor me in all aspects of fostering, she visited regularly and was satisfied I was providing a good standard of care for Oskar. The IRO thanked her. There was nothing from Roksana, so the IRO asked Elaine Summer to fetch Oskar. Five minutes later he came into the room with her and slid shyly into the seat next to me.

  ‘Welcome, Oskar,’ the IRO said, and then asked him about school, swimming, gym and Leo. He replied with short answers in a small voice, occasionally glancing up at us self-consciously.

  ‘Thank you for filling in your review form. Shall I read it out?’ the IRO asked.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Oskar replied politely, and the IRO smiled.

  ‘Do you have any questions?’ he asked him.

  Oskar shook his head.

  ‘This will probably be your last review. Do you know why?’

  ‘Because I’m leaving,’ Oskar said. ‘But I don’t mind. I don’t really like these reviews.’

  We all laughed. Well done, Oskar, I thought.

  The IRO closed the meeting just as the klaxon sounded for the end of school. Elaine Summer said she needed to leave smartish and offered to take Oskar to his class.

  ‘Thank you for attending his review,’ the IRO said. ‘And allowing us to use your office. You’ll be sent a copy of the minutes. I’ll set a date for the next review, although I’m hoping it won’t be necessary.’

  I hoped so too, for if we did have another review it would mean Oskar would still be in care three months after he should have been starting his new life abroad with his forever family.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Leaving

  It hadn’t escaped my notice that Andrew had told the review he was aiming to move Oskar towards the end of November or early December. He’d previously said the middle to end of November, so the timescale had already slipped back. While my family and I were more than happy to look after Oskar for as long as necessary, he was in no man’s land, with one foot in each home, and country, which of course was very unsettling. Every Skype call to his brother, aunt and family strengthened his bond with them as he got to know them better and learnt more about the life he would be living with them. But he also had a bond with us and his mother, so when he saw her he came away feeling guilty and confused. He began telling her and me and my family he loved us many times a day, which was heart-wrenching. I talked to him about his feelings and reassured him.

  I didn’t hear from Andrew again until the third week in November. I knew there’d be a lot going on behind the scenes. When he phoned, I was hoping he had the news we’d been waiting for – Oskar’s departure date. But having asked how Oskar was, Andrew said he was aiming to have Oskar home by Christmas, but it wasn’t guaranteed! My heart fell for Oskar. There were some outstanding formalities that he didn’t go into. He also said he’d spoken to Dol and asked her if she would be able to fly out and collect Oskar when the time came, but she couldn’t leave Luka, so he would take Oskar home. He asked me to tell Oskar he was doing his best to have him home by Christmas and he’d be in touch as soon as he had a definite date.

  I told Oskar that afternoon when he came out of school and he was angry – with me and Andrew. He stamped his foot and said he hated us both, which was understandable. Then the following day at contact he became angry with his mother. ‘I don’t know what’s got into him!’ Roksana declared when I collected him. ‘He wasn’t like this when he lived with me.’ Suggesting I was responsible for his bad behaviour. I explained that Oskar was feeling very confused and frustrated by the delay.

  ‘Well, he doesn’t have to take it out on me,’ she said.

  The contact supervisor was still there writing – a pointless exercise, I thought, as Oskar’s case had been to court and a decision had been made.

  I continued with our routine and kept Oskar’s life as normal as possible as November rolled into December. I began Christmas shopping and bought presents for Oskar. If he did leave before Christmas, he would take them with him. The following weekend we put up our Christmas decorations and when we Skyped Dol, Oskar pointed them out in our front room with a mixture of joy and sadness. ‘I am always with you at Christmas,’ he said, ‘but Andrew says I might not be this year.’ Which was true. He and his mother had always gone home for Christmas; indeed, it was the only time Oskar did go, as far as I knew.

  ‘That’s because when you come home this time it will be for good,’ Dol said positively. ‘Try to be patient.’

  ‘But I want to be there for this Christmas!’ Oskar scowled.

  ‘That’s a funny face,’ Dol said. ‘I prefer the happy one.’

  He spoke to Luka and the rest of the family, and of course the children were excited and looking forward to Christmas. They chatted about what happened in their house, which didn’t help Oskar, as he might not be there.

  Finally, on 7 December, when I was thinking Oskar would almost certainly be with us for Christmas, Andrew phoned. ‘News at last,’ he said, and I held my breath. ‘I’m booking the flights for Thursday the fourteenth.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ I sighed. ‘Oskar will be pleased.’

  ‘I’ll let you know the time once I’ve confirmed the flight. The last contact with his mother will be this Thursday. I’ll be there while they say goodbye. Roksana won’t fly out until Christmas Eve.’

  Oskar was elated when I told him after school that day, and then he looked sad. ‘I’ll miss you,’ he said, and wanted a big hug.

  ‘We’ll miss you too,’ I said. ‘But we’ll speak on the phone.’

  ‘I’ll see Mummy at Christmas, but I won’t see you,’ he said, clearly having thought about it.

  ‘I’ll ask your Aunty Dol if we can Skype at Christmas so we can all see each other,’ I suggested. It helped and he looked less sad.

  Oskar told Adrian, Lucy and Paula he was going very soon as they came home, and of course they had mixed feelings. They were pleased for him, even though they had quietly been hoping – as I had – that he would be with us for Christmas. But as adults who had been fostering for years, they knew what to say so that Oskar remained positive.

  The following morning in the school playground he told Leo he was going home. I asked Leo’s mother Julia to keep 13 December free, as I would give Oskar his leaving party straight after school. I also gave her Dol’s phone numb
er and said Dol had hers so Leo and Oskar could keep in touch.

  The final contact loomed. I knew from experience just how upsetting it could be: that moment when the child and their parents have to say goodbye forever, or at least until the child is an adult and can decide for themselves if they wish to see their parent. But that’s a lifetime away, and final contacts are unbelievably heart-breaking. I still carry the memories of some parting scenes from years ago, as vivid and emotional now as they were at the time. When I think of them my eyes fill.

  However, Oskar’s last contact wasn’t as upsetting as it might have been, because he was seeing his mother again at Christmas – only two weeks away. I thought the real upset would come when she left him in the New Year with no plans to return for many months. Andrew was there when I collected Oskar at the end of contact and watched as Roksana and Oskar said their goodbyes. It’s usual for the social worker to be present. ‘I’m so happy we’re going home for Christmas,’ Oskar said as he hugged his mother goodbye.

  ‘So am I,’ she replied and, drawing back, kissed his forehead. And that was it. Oskar came to my side.

  I said goodbye to Roksana, wished her well for the future and gave her the Christmas present and card I’d bought. She looked surprised, thanked me and then thanked me for taking care of Oskar, so we parted on good terms. She and Andrew stayed in the room while Oskar and I left.

  ‘I’ll miss Mummy,’ Oskar said on our way out. ‘But I’ll see her again in two weeks.’

  Far more upsetting was Oskar saying goodbye to my mother. It wasn’t possible for Mum to come to Oskar’s leaving party, so the following Saturday – the last before Oskar left – I took him to see her straight after gym. Paula came with me. I knew it was going to be emotional, for this really would be goodbye. As soon as we entered Mum’s home, Oskar threw his arms around her and, burying his face in her, cried, ‘I’m going to miss you so much, Nana.’

  Mum immediately teared up, which of course upset Paula and me. We can’t bear to see her unhappy.