by Cathy Glass
‘It’s OK,’ Lori said easily. ‘Anna is aware of her history. She’s grown up knowing the circumstances of her early years and that she has a birth mother and was adopted.’
Clearly it was Lori’s decision. Anna remained expressionless, watching Paula.
‘Anna goes to — school,’ Lori continued, naming her school. ‘But she is on reduced hours at present: ten o’clock till two. She is with her class in the morning for lessons with support, has lunch with the rest of the school, then has a small group activity with a teaching assistant in the afternoon. You are able to take her to and from school?’ Lori now asked me.
‘Yes.’ Foster carers are expected to take the children they look after to and from school, contact and any appointments they may have. Sometimes it’s quite a juggling act if you have school-aged children yourself, but Anna’s reduced timetable would help. I would be able to take Adrian and Paula to school first and then Anna to hers, and do the reverse at the end of the day.
‘The school arrangements will be reviewed but they seem to be working at present,’ Lori continued. ‘The school has asked for a referral to the child psychologist, although there is a waiting list. I’ll have to arrange an LAC [Looked-after Children] review. I’ll let you know the date. Here is the Essential Information Form Part One.’ She handed Jill and me a copy. This form contained the basic information about the child I was fostering, which I needed to help me look after the child. As well as their name, home address, date of birth and names of their parents, it included any other family members, and I read that Anna had no siblings. Her ethnicity was given as British and her language English. The box for religion showed nominally Church of England.
‘Does she go to church?’ I asked.
‘Not as far as I know,’ Lori said.
I continued a quick read-through, as did Jill. The legal status showed Section 20, which Lori had already covered. There were no special dietary requirements and no known allergies. In the box asking if there was any challenging behaviour, ‘Yes. Attachment Disorder’ had been printed. Beside special educational needs were the hours she went to school and that she had support from a teaching assistant. The box for contact arrangements was blank.
‘Do you know the contact arrangements now?’ Jill asked, just as I was about to. I reached for a pen ready to make a note.
‘There aren’t any,’ Lori said.
Jill and I looked at her. ‘Why not?’ Jill asked, as surprised as I was.
It wasn’t Lori who answered but Anna. ‘I don’t want to see my mother and she doesn’t want to see me,’ she said, cold as ice.
Chapter Seventeen
First Night
‘Her mother is going through a difficult time at present,’ Lori said, trying to smooth over Anna’s harsh words. ‘I’ll be seeing her again shortly, so hopefully she will feel a bit stronger.’
‘What about telephone contact?’ Jill asked.
‘Not at present, and I’m trying to trace Anna’s father.’
‘I don’t want to see him either,’ Anna said, her face hard.
Paula looked over, thinking she must have misheard. Although her father no longer lived with us, she and Adrian saw him regularly.
‘What is the care plan?’ Jill asked, moving on.
‘I’ll send you both a copy,’ Lori said. ‘We were hoping for rehabilitation home.’ But I heard her doubt. Without regular contact there was little chance of Anna returning home.
Anna, who’d been eyeing Paula closely, suddenly stood and went to her. I assumed – as I think Jill and Lori did – that she was going to play with her, but instead she roughly snatched the toy Paula was holding and returned to her seat without saying a word.
‘Paula was playing with that,’ I said. ‘There are plenty more farmyard animals in the toy box.’ I went to Paula, who was looking shocked and rather hurt, and, taking a handful of toy animals from the toy box, placed them in her lap. ‘You play with those,’ I said. It wasn’t the time to explain to Anna why you didn’t snatch a toy from another child, and persuade her to hand it back; that would come later.
‘You have to ask if you want a toy someone else has,’ Jill said to Anna as I returned to my seat.
‘She hasn’t learned about sharing yet,’ Lori said. ‘The school has been working on it.’
I nodded. Paula had her head bowed, looking at the toys in her lap, but Anna was staring at her unabashed, gloating and victorious. Clearly she had a lot to learn when it came to sharing and mixing with other children.
Lori checked through her notes. ‘Have I missed anything?’ she asked, glancing at Jill and me. ‘I’ve placed Anna three times in a week so I’m not sure who I’ve said what to.’
‘Can you let us both know the date of the review when you’ve arranged it,’ Jill asked, ‘so I can put it in my diary and attend?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Lori made a note and then returned her papers to her bag-cum-briefcase. ‘Shall we look around the house now and then we’ll unpack the car?’
We all stood and Paula came to my side, not wanting to be left alone. ‘This is the living room,’ I said to Anna and Lori, beginning the tour. Jill knew my house well. ‘We are usually in here in the evenings, playing a game, reading or watching television.’
‘That’s nice,’ Lori said encouragingly. Anna looked back expressionless. I led the way into our kitchen-dining room. ‘This is where we eat,’ I said, pointing to the table in the dining area. Toscha, our cat, having heard people in the kitchen and aware it was nearly her dinnertime, came in through the cat flap. Paula went over and stroked her and was rewarded with a loud meow. Aware of the cat’s fate in the last foster home Anna had lived in, I watched her carefully but her face was blank. She made no move towards Toscha to stroke or pet her as most children would.
‘She’s very friendly,’ I said. ‘Do you like cats?’
Anna shook her head. ‘The one before scratched me so I threw it downstairs,’ she said, unabashed.
‘Toscha doesn’t scratch or bite, but even if she did we wouldn’t throw her. That would be unkind.’ Paula joined me again as we went out, down the hall and into the front room. ‘This is like a quiet room,’ I said to Anna, ‘if you want to be alone.’ It held the computer, sound system, shelves of books, a cabinet with a lockable drawer where I kept important documents, and a small table and chairs. It tended to be used more by teenagers who wanted their own space rather than children of Anna’s age.
‘Very good,’ Jill said, although she’d seen it all before.
Upstairs I showed Anna her room first, at the rear of the house and overlooking the garden. ‘It’ll feel more comfortable once you have your things in here,’ I said encouragingly. Lori agreed but Anna met our comments and her new room with the same indifference, although I suspected there was plenty going on in her thoughts. You don’t leave your mother and then have to change home three times in a week and come out unscathed.
I now led our little group into the bathroom. ‘Anna has good self-care skills,’ Lori said.
‘Excellent,’ I said, smiling at Anna. ‘We usually have our baths in the evening before we go to bed.’ She was unimpressed.
I briefly showed her my bedroom. ‘This is where I sleep. If you need me in the night, call out and I’ll come to you.’ I then led the way along the landing to Paula’s room. I opened the bedroom door just wide enough so Anna and Lori could look in and then closed it again. ‘We all have our own bedrooms and they are private,’ I told Anna, as I told all the children when they first arrived. ‘We don’t go into each other’s bedrooms unless we are asked to, and we always knock first if we want the person.’ To demonstrate, I now knocked on Adrian’s bedroom door. ‘Hi, can I show Anna and Lori your room, please?’ I said.
‘Yes, come in,’ came his reply.
I opened the door so they could see in. Adrian was sitting on the floor, playing with some toys. ‘Thank you, Adrian,’ Lori said and closed the door as they came out. ‘It might take Anna a wh
ile to get used to living here,’ Lori commented as we returned downstairs. ‘There was just her and her parents at home so they didn’t need much privacy.’
‘Don’t worry, I know it takes time to settle in,’ I said, ‘but I think it helps if the ground rules are explained at the start.’
‘Absolutely,’ Jill agreed. ‘Then everyone knows what’s expected of them.’
‘We’ll bring your bags in now,’ Lori said to Anna as we arrived in the hall.
‘Can I help?’ Paula asked, wanting to stay close to me.
‘Yes, of course.’ I took her coat from the hall stand and passed it to her.
‘I’m not helping,’ Anna said firmly.
‘No, you can come with me. We’ll play with some toys in the living room,’ Jill said positively. Touching Anna’s shoulder, she steered her down the hall.
‘There are a lot of bags,’ Lori warned me, as we slipped on our coats and shoes.
‘No worries, I can store what Anna doesn’t need.’ Although it was unusual for a child who’d only been in care a week to come with a lot of luggage. More often the parents are reluctant to part with their child’s belongings, as it’s an upsetting confirmation that they are in care and no longer living with them. Then, usually after the social worker explains it’s better for the child to have their own things rather than use the carer’s, they gradually bag it up and pass it on a little at a time over months, often at contact.
Paula and I followed Lori out to her car. It was dark now in winter and the air cold. When Lori opened the car – an estate – and the interior lights went on I saw what she meant by ‘a lot’. The boot, part of the back seat and the front passenger seat were full of cases, bags and boxes. ‘I think her mother packed everything except her bike,’ Lori said. ‘Most of it hasn’t been unpacked – she wasn’t with the other carers long enough.’
I took a small child’s handbag from the boot and gave it to Paula to take in while Lori and I loaded ourselves with as much as we could carry. We went back and forth, and as her car slowly emptied and my hall and front room filled, my concerns deepened. This wasn’t the luggage of a child who was coming into care for a few weeks or months to give her mother a break, but one who was going away for good.
‘What are the chances of Anna returning home?’ I asked Lori quietly as we took in the last of the bags.
‘Not good,’ she said. ‘We’re looking for the father and if he can’t look after her, then kinship carers [family members]. Anna’s mother has a sister, and her father has a married brother who may be willing to offer Anna a home. Failing that, she will be in long-term foster care.’
I’d just shut the front door when I heard Paula cry out from the living room simultaneously with Jill’s voice saying, ‘No, Anna! That was naughty.’
Paula, visibly upset, ran into the hall and to me. Jill appeared behind her. ‘Sorry, Cathy. Anna pushed her. She thought she’d taken her bag.’
‘It’s all right,’ I said, consoling Paula. I went into the living room where Anna was standing clutching the bag. ‘Anna, I gave Paula that bag to carry in. She was helping me, not taking it from you.’
‘Don’t care,’ she said defiantly. ‘It’s mine!’
Again, I didn’t say anything further for now as Lori was about to say goodbye and leave, but it was another small incident that showed how watchful I was going to have to be.
It was set to get much worse.
Uncooperative and confrontational aren’t words I like to use about any child, but that’s what Anna was that evening. Usually there is what foster carers refer to as a ‘honeymoon period’ when a child first moves in. Regardless of any negative behaviour that might have gone before, when they first arrive they are usually on their best behaviour. It can last for days, weeks, even months, then they relax, feel more secure and start to push the boundaries as a way of testing the carer’s commitment to them. Anna clearly hadn’t heard of the ‘honeymoon period’ and was determined to make herself as unpleasant as possible from the start, and who could blame her? In her eyes she’d been rejected three times in a week and must have felt unloved and very angry.
After Lori and Jill had left, Adrian came downstairs to see if he could watch the television programme about the Tudors I’d recorded.
‘Yes, good idea,’ I said. ‘You can watch it while I make dinner.’
‘I don’t want to watch it,’ Anna said, without even knowing what it was. Adrian hesitated.
‘What do you normally do in the evenings?’ I asked her, wanting to accommodate her wishes if possible.
‘Watch television,’ she said. ‘But not the one you want.’
‘So what do you like to watch?’ I asked.
She shrugged.
As she had no preference, I didn’t see why Adrian shouldn’t watch the programme he needed to. I explained to Anna that it was for school and that if she didn’t want to watch it she could play with some toys. The programme was only twenty minutes long. I set the recorder to play and waited until Anna was settled by the toy box. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen if anyone wants me,’ I said. I went out with Paula, leaving the doors between the living room and kitchen open so I could hear what was going on. For a few minutes all that could be heard was the television, then Adrian came in.
‘Mum, Anna keeps standing in front of the television so I can’t see it.’
Leaving what I was doing, I went into the living room where Anna was now sitting by the toy box again. ‘Try not to stand in front of the television,’ I said.
‘I didn’t,’ she replied confrontationally.
‘Good. I’m pleased.’ I waited until she was playing again and returned to the kitchen with Paula at my side.
A couple of minutes later Adrian appeared again with the same complaint. I went into the living room. ‘Anna, I have asked you not to stand in front of the television, love. Adrian can’t see it. It would be a great pity if I had to tell you off on your first night here.’
She shrugged. I waited until she was occupied again and returned to the kitchen. It was getting late and I needed to make us dinner. It wasn’t long before Adrian appeared again. ‘Mum, I’ll watch the programme later. She keeps humming so I can’t hear it properly.’
‘I’m sorry, love.’ He went up to his room while I went into the living room and switched off the television.
‘I want to watch it!’ Anna demanded.
‘So did Adrian but you stopped him from doing so.’
‘I want to watch something else.’
‘No, love. That wouldn’t be fair when you stopped Adrian from watching.’ She looked mildly surprised, as though she really thought she would get her own way, but this was about fairness and if I didn’t put in place what was acceptable now it would be more difficult later. The maxim ‘start as you mean to go on’ is very true.
‘Hate you,’ she said, then screwed up her face, opened her mouth wide and screamed for all she was worth. It was truly ear-piercing. Paula fled to her room, while I put my hands over my ears and waited for it to pass. Perhaps she thought screaming would change my mind, or possibly it was an expression of rage. Finally, red in the face, she ran out of breath and stopped. ‘Hate you,’ she said again, narrowing her eyes.
‘I can understand why you might,’ I said evenly, going to her. ‘You must be feeling very hurt and alone from all the moves and not living with your mother. Would you like to tell me about how you are feeling and have a hug?’
‘No!’ She scowled.
‘Sure?’
She stuck out her tongue.
‘Another time then. You can play with the toys. I’ll be in the kitchen if you want me.’
I returned to making the dinner, popping into the living room every so often to check on her. I heard Paula cross the landing and go into Adrian’s room where they stayed playing until I called everyone for dinner. I fetched Anna, who hadn’t immediately come, and showed her where her place was at the table – we tend to keep to the same places. She shook he
r head and said she didn’t want to sit at the table but wanted her dinner on a tray in front of the television. I explained that we sat at the table to eat and anyway the television was staying off for now.
‘My mummy lets me,’ she said, jutting out her chin defiantly.
‘That’s her decision,’ I said. ‘Here we eat at the table.’ Foster carers are expected to take meals at a table, as it encourages good eating habits, and the evening meal is often the only time the whole family sits down together. Adrian and Paula were looking at Anna anxiously, clearly wondering if this was going to develop into another screaming fit, but I think she was too hungry. She sat in the chair I showed her, and as soon as I set her plate in front of her she picked up her knife and fork and began eating.
‘I don’t like this,’ she said partway through, but eating it nonetheless.
‘What do you like?’ I asked. ‘I can get some in for another time.’ Foster carers try to accommodate a child’s food preferences and stick to their routines at home as much as possible, but that relies on the parent(s) passing these details to the carer, which hadn’t happened here yet.
‘Biscuits,’ Anna said. ‘I like biscuits.’
‘OK. You can have a biscuit when you’ve finished your main course.’
‘I don’t want your biscuits. You won’t have the ones I want.’
‘I might,’ I said. ‘I’ll show you what we have when we’ve finished.’
She looked a little confused but continued with her meal. Once we’d finished, I showed her our selection of biscuits, but she shook her head and looked genuinely disappointed. ‘Do you know what the biscuits are called and I can buy some?’ I said.
‘You can’t get them here. Mummy tried but they are too far away.’
It was my turn to look confused. ‘So where did you have these biscuits?’
‘In the hotel.’
‘When you were on holiday?’
‘No. In my country,’ she said, as though I should have understood.
‘Your country?’
She nodded. ‘When I was adopted.’
