by Cathy Glass
‘Yes.’
‘Goodness knows what the little chap is thinking. He hasn’t said a word to me. Phone our duty manager if there’s a problem, otherwise I’ll see you on Wednesday, as close to four as I can. I’m in court all day.’
We returned to the hall where Debbie took her coat from the stand and put it on while I popped into the living room. The boys were as I’d left them: Alex sitting beside Adrian, watching him but not joining in. ‘Everything OK?’ I asked. ‘I’m just going to help Debbie unload her car.’
Adrian looked up and nodded, but Alex kept his gaze down.
I went along the hall, slipped on my coat and then followed Debbie out to her car. It was crammed full of Alex’s belongings: bags, boxes and cases in the boot and on the back seat, together with Alex’s bike. Having moved Alex to Rosemary and Edward’s in stages, I’d forgotten how much he had.
‘We’ll stack it in the hall and front room for now,’ I said to Debbie as she passed me the first box. ‘I’ll sort it all out tomorrow.’
With the front door open and on the latch to stop it from closing in the wind, we went up and down the front garden path, gradually transferring the contents of Debbie’s car into the hall and front room, until all that remained was Alex’s bike lodged in the footwells behind the front seat. Together we lifted it out and then I wheeled it up the garden path, into the house, and then through to the kitchen ready to put in the shed when it was light the following morning. Debbie closed the front door and we returned to the living room, where she said goodbye to Alex. He didn’t reply or look up.
‘Alex, love,’ I said gently, ‘Debbie is going now. Can you say goodbye to her?’
‘Goodbye,’ came his small, plaintive voice, but he kept his head down.
‘Goodbye, pet,’ she said. ‘Try to have a good weekend and I’ll see you next week. Bye, Adrian.’
‘Bye,’ Adrian said, glancing up at her.
We left the boys in the living room and returned down the hall. As we passed the bags I asked Debbie if she knew which one contained Alex’s nightwear, but she didn’t.
‘No worries,’ I said. ‘I’ve got spares if necessary.’ My priority was to get Alex into bed as soon as possible and then unpack tomorrow.
‘I’ll phone on Monday if I have the chance,’ Debbie said as she opened the front door. ‘Otherwise I’ll see you both on Wednesday.’
We said goodbye, and I was pleased to close the door again against the cold night air. It was now nearly nine o’clock. I returned to the living room, where Alex was still sitting beside Adrian, watching him but not joining in the game. I went over and sat on the chair just in front of them.
‘Alex, love, it’s very late. I’ve saved you some dinner. Would you like it before you go to bed?’
He shook his head.
‘Not even a little? You could have it in here on a tray.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ came his small reply.
‘OK. Would you like a drink?’
He shook his head again. I wasn’t surprised; eating and drinking is often the first casualty of upset and trauma. Hopefully he would make up for it the following day.
‘Come on then, time for bed,’ I said to both boys.
‘Shall I pack away the game first?’ Adrian asked.
‘No, I’ll do it later.’
I offered Alex my hand to hold but he didn’t want it, and, standing, he followed Adrian and me out of the living room and down the hall. I paused by his bags. ‘Alex, do you know which bag has your night things in it?’ He shook his head.
‘Shall I help you look for them, Mum?’ Adrian offered.
‘Thanks. We’ll have a quick look but if we can’t find them, I’ve got some spares you can use for tonight,’ I told Alex.
The boxes obviously contained his toys so we eliminated those from our search and began opening some of the bags. Alex watched us, dazed and exhausted. Who knew what was going through his mind? Thankfully, the third bag I unzipped contained a pair of his pyjamas and his wash bag. ‘Excellent,’ I said, smiling at him. ‘It’s nice to have your own things.’ But he just looked at me, lost and confused.
We went upstairs and I left Adrian to wash and change while I went to help Alex. He remembered where the toilet was and I waited on the landing until he’d finished, then I carried his pyjamas and wash bag into the bathroom.
‘Just a quick wash and brush your teeth tonight,’ I said. ‘You can have a bath tomorrow.’ I ran the water in the sink, squeezed out his flannel and washed his face. I squirted some toothpaste onto his brush and he gave his teeth a little brush. I waited just outside the bathroom while he changed into his pyjamas and then we went round the landing.
As we passed Paula’s bedroom door Alex asked in a very quiet voice, ‘Has that little girl gone too?’
‘No, love, Paula is asleep in bed. She lives here all the time. She’s my daughter.’ But how confusing must it be for Alex, with his experience of ever-changing transient families? What most of us take for granted – a loving, stable family – had never been part of his life and remained a distant dream.
We continued round to his bedroom. ‘I’ve bought you some new posters,’ I said. He glanced up at the walls and then looked at his bed. ‘We’ve forgotten a cuddly,’ I said, realizing the omission as Alex now did. ‘You get into bed and I’ll pop down and find one. You don’t mind which one tonight?’ I remembered that he had chosen a different soft toy each night.
He climbed into bed and I went downstairs, hoping that I’d be able to find a cuddly without too much searching. I thought a good place to start looking was in the bag where I’d found his pyjamas. I unzipped it and began delving down beneath some more pyjamas and clothes, and then my fingers alighted on not one but two soft toys. I pulled them out and was relieved to see Simba and the polar bear again. I returned upstairs.
‘You’ve got a choice,’ I said to Alex as I went into his room, holding up the two cuddlies. ‘Which one would you like tonight or would you like both?’
‘Both,’ he said quietly from his bed.
I sat on the edge of the bed and tucked them either side of him, their heads on the pillow beside his. ‘That looks cosy,’ I said, drawing the duvet up to his chin. I’d already closed the curtains, as I knew he liked them shut. Similarly, I knew he liked his bedroom light off and the door left slightly open while he slept. He looked up at me, pale and drawn. ‘You’ll feel a bit better after a good night’s sleep,’ I said. ‘Call out if you need me in the night. You know where I am. Then tomorrow we’ll unpack your bags.’ I smiled, adjusted the duvet again and then stood, ready to go.
‘Cathy?’ he said quietly.
‘Yes, love?’ I paused and looked at him.
‘Why did I have to leave?’
‘Rosemary and Edward’s?’
He nodded.
I sat on the bed again and chose my words carefully. ‘Because Rosemary and Edward hadn’t thought enough about adoption and what it would mean. It was nothing to do with you. It was them, they weren’t right for you.’
‘Was it because of James?’ he asked.
‘In a way, yes. He wasn’t used to having a brother or sister and didn’t know how to behave. But that should have all been talked about and sorted out a long time ago, before they ever met you. This should never have happened, Alex, and we’re all very sorry and upset that it has.’
‘I’m upset,’ he said quietly. He looked so sad.
‘I’m sure you are, love, and you have every right to be. But it will pass in time, and you know you can talk to me whenever you want. Remember that, all right?’ He gave a small nod and rubbed his cheek against Simba’s soft fabric. ‘Good boy. Now I think you should get off to sleep. You must be exhausted.’
‘Cathy?’ he asked again in the same small voice.
‘Yes, love?’
‘Will you give me a hug?’
‘Yes, of course,’ I smiled, delighted, but it also made me sad. Alex hadn’t wanted a hug or kiss fr
om me before, as he’d been saving them for his mummy. Now there was no mummy to hug and kiss him, just a foster carer.
I cradled him in my arms and held him close, his body slight and warm against mine and his breath shallow.
‘My mummy hugged me on the first few nights,’ he said quietly after a few moments. ‘Then she stopped. I think that’s when she stopped loving me and didn’t want me any more.’
My eyes filled and I held him closer. He was probably right. I remembered Rosemary’s comment when I’d visited her, that cuddling Alex had felt unnatural. Now, for me, it felt completely natural. ‘I don’t think she understood how lucky she was to be given the chance to adopt a lovely little boy like you,’ I said. I rested my head on his as he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist.
‘Mum!’ Adrian called from his bedroom. ‘I’m in bed.’
‘Good boy,’ I returned. ‘I’ll be in soon to say goodnight.’
‘Do you have to go now?’ Alex asked.
‘In a minute. There’s no rush. Adrian will look at a book until we’ve finished.’
I held Alex close, stroked his head and hoped and prayed he’d find the strength to get over the rejection.
‘Why did they stop loving me?’ he asked presently.
‘They had problems,’ I said. ‘It was nothing to do with you.’
‘I tried to play with James, honestly I did, but he kept getting angry and telling on me.’
‘He didn’t know how to treat a brother. He’d never had one.’
‘Will I have to go back there if they change their minds again?’
My heart ached for him. ‘No, love. Never.’
‘Good. Because I don’t think I would like them so much next time. I’d worry they’d give me back again.’
‘That won’t happen,’ I reassured him. ‘Debbie will tell us what the long-term plans are, but for now you are staying here with me.’
I sat on Alex’s bed, holding him, until he was nearly asleep and then I gently eased him onto the pillow, drew up the duvet and tucked his cuddlies either side of him.
‘Night, love,’ I said quietly as I stood.
But there was no reply. His eyes were closed and his face had relaxed in sleep. I crept from his room, switching off the light and leaving his bedroom door slightly ajar. My heart was heavy and full of sorrow. I went into Adrian’s room.
He was sitting up in bed waiting for me. ‘You were a long time,’ he said.
‘Sorry, love. Alex needed to talk about why he had to move from Rosemary and Edward’s.’
‘OK,’ he said easily, and snuggled down ready for his goodnight hug and chat.
I gave Adrian as much time as he wanted, and with my arm around his shoulders we chatted about the subjects he brought up: school, football club, his father and what we were doing at the weekend. Only once he’d finished and was ready to go to sleep did I say goodnight, tell him I loved him (as I do every night) and then come out of his room. I knew from experience how easy it was to let the needs of your own children slip into second place when fostering, especially with a child like Alex, who would need a lot of support over the coming weeks. Sometimes as a foster carer it feels as though there isn’t enough of you to go round, but you can only do your best and hope that all the children will see that and forgive your shortcomings.
Chapter Thirteen
Angry Outbursts
Alex slept through Friday night without waking and was still asleep when I checked on him at seven o’clock the following morning. He must have been exhausted, for he continued to sleep through Paula waking and getting up at 7.30. Refreshed after a good night’s sleep, she could be very chirpy in the morning, and I explained to her that Alex was in his room again and asleep, so we needed to be quiet.
‘Alex!’ she said. ‘Oh good. I like Alex.’
He finally woke at 8 a.m. – the same time as Adrian. I heard him get out of bed and I went to his room. ‘You slept well,’ I said. He gave a small nod. Paula was with me and she smiled at Alex and then went to find Adrian.
I’d brought up one of Alex’s bags containing his clothes and now laid out a fresh set on the bed. I then left him (and Adrian) to dress while I took Paula downstairs to make breakfast. ‘I like Alex,’ she said once more, clearly pleased to see him again.
Alex’s bike was still in the kitchen, so once the boys were down and could stay with Paula I took it to the shed. Alex was less pale and drawn this morning but still very quiet. He didn’t want a cooked breakfast, but agreed to some cereal and a glass of orange juice. I made light conversation as we sat around the table and ate. Adrian and Paula joined in but Alex remained quiet throughout breakfast, just nodding or shaking his head, or managing a small yes or no to my questions. I wasn’t surprised he was withdrawn, given what he was having to deal with.
After breakfast I settled the children with some games in the living room so I could unpack Alex’s belongings. I knew Adrian would call me if I was needed, but even so I checked on them each time I came down for another bag. By lunchtime the hall was clear except for Alex’s school bag, which I left with Adrian’s by the coat stand, as they contained their homework. Although I didn’t know how long Alex would be staying with us, unpacking and re-establishing a routine was important in helping Alex to settle and feel at home, just as it had been the first time he’d arrived, and for any child I fostered.
My mother telephoned shortly after lunch to see how Alex was, and I said he was slowly settling in but was quiet and withdrawn, which was only to be expected. She said again we should get together as soon as possible and we tentatively arranged for us to visit them the following Saturday. We’d confirm nearer the day. The grey overcast skies of the morning turned to rain in the afternoon, so I suggested to Alex and Adrian that this was a good opportunity to do their homework, then if it was fine the following day we could go out. The boys fetched their school bags and sat at the table to work. Paula didn’t want to be left out, so I settled her at the table with some crayons and a colouring book. I was on hand to help with school work if necessary. Alex did his with the same quiet resignation that he had played with Adrian and Paula earlier on. Complying rather than engaging is how I would have described it. But he did his homework and when they’d both finished I suggested we made pizza for dinner – most children love donning aprons and getting messy with the ingredients: flour and water. Alex met my suggestion with quiet acquiescence, and went along with the activity rather than wholeheartedly enjoying it as Adrian and Paula did. When we’d finished and the pizzas, topped with sliced peppers, cheese and ham, were in the oven cooking and everyone was clean again, I took Alex aside to have a chat with him.
‘Alex, love, I want you to try to relax and be yourself, like you were before with us. You seem as though you are on your best behaviour, but you won’t upset us. You know Adrian, Paula and me and we know you, so try to be yourself. We like you that way.’ I wondered if he might be trying to live up to some high and undisclosed standard and was perhaps fearful of saying and doing the wrong thing.
He nodded, but then remained quiet and compliant for the rest of the day, so I guessed it would take time before he was able to relax and be himself again.
I gave all three children a bath and hair wash that night, so I spent most of the evening upstairs. Once they were ready for bed they came down in their dressing gowns for a drink and to watch some television before going to bed: Paula went up first, then Alex and Adrian. Alex was still quiet but now looked more comfortable in his room, surrounded by his belongings and a choice of soft toys. It was the monkey’s turn tonight. Alex didn’t want a hug or to talk as he had done the night before, so I tucked him in, kissed his forehead and, reminding him to call me in the night if he needed me, left him to go to sleep.
All three children slept well and so did I, and I woke refreshed to a fine day. I told the children that after breakfast we could take their bikes to the park if they’d like to. There was a resounding ‘Yes!’ from Adrian and Paula
, but Alex looked anxious.
‘What’s the matter, love?’ I asked him.
‘I won’t be able to keep up,’ he said quietly. ‘I can’t ride very fast.’ I knew where that had come from.
‘You’ll keep up OK,’ I reassured him with a smile. ‘We can’t ride along the roads here as you can in the country. You will have to stay beside me on the pavement as we take the bikes to the park, and then once there you can ride around at your own speed. It’s not a race. Paula has stabilizers on her bike, so she’s not going anywhere fast, and I’ll be on foot.’
He looked relieved, but I wondered how many other worries and fears of failing he now harboured from his time at Rosemary and Edward’s.
The trip to the park was a success. The children enjoyed it, although Alex remained comparatively quiet, and we returned home with cheeks glowing from the fresh air and exercise. I prepared dinner and we ate in the afternoon – around two o’clock – as we usually did on a Sunday, after which the children amused themselves while I cleared up. Then we settled in the living room and the children played while I read the newspaper. John telephoned at five o’clock to speak to Adrian and Paula, and before he did we exchanged a polite ‘hello’ and ‘how are you?’ He also said he was planning on seeing the children the following Sunday, and I said I’d make a note of it in my diary, and then passed the handset to Adrian. He settled on the sofa to chat with his father, and Paula would have her turn afterwards. Alex, who’d heard me say their father was on the phone, left what he was doing and came over to me. ‘Will I have to talk to my father on the phone?’ he asked quietly.
For a moment I thought he meant his natural father, who, as far as I knew, he’d never had any contact with, but then I realized. ‘Edward?’ I asked him. He nodded. ‘No, love, you won’t. You don’t want to talk to him, do you?’ He shook his head and returned to the Lego he and Adrian had been playing with. But it was another reminder of just how confusing Alex’s experience of parents and families had been.
On Sunday evening I had all three children in bed at a reasonable time, as we had to be up for school and nursery the following morning. Alex didn’t want any hugs again that night and when I asked him if he was all right he nodded. I tucked him and his soft toy in, kissed his forehead and then, reminding him again to call out if he needed me in the night, I left him to go to sleep. I hoped that when he returned to school the following day its familiarity would help him recover from the trauma of what had happened and bring him out of himself again. Although he was going to have to tell his friends something, and that could be very awkward. He’d been taken to school and collected by his adoptive mother for the past two weeks and now I’d be there again. Children in care have so much to cope with, not only at home, but at school as well. They are often so worried about what their peers will think and ashamed of being in care that they don’t make friends, or invent elaborate stories to explain why they are not with their birth families and who the woman meeting them in the playground is. It would be even more difficult for Alex because many in his class had been aware he was going to be adopted and had shared in his happiness. Doubtless they’d want to know what had gone wrong.
