Nobody’s Son

by Cathy Glass

  When Alex had first gone to live with Gwen and Gareth he’d called them by their first names, but as time went on, hearing Kaylee, Taylor and Mark calling them Mum and Dad, Alex began to do the same – naturally and without any encouragement. Then, when he had been living with them for about eight months, Gwen and Gareth had a chat with him, one to one, and explained that Mark, Taylor and Kaylee had come to them as foster children but they’d then adopted them. They explained what adoption really meant, and that the child became theirs forever, with the same rights and status as if they had been born to them. They suggested that Alex could think about whether he’d like them to adopt him, as they wanted to. Alex thought about it for two seconds and then gave them a resounding yes, smothering them in hugs and kisses.

  A year later I was invited to the court when the adoption certificate was presented, and it was one of the happiest days of my life. The number of guests was limited and it was a school day so I couldn’t take Adrian and Paula, but Alex’s family was there, everyone dressed very smartly, with the men and boys wearing suits. Debbie and Shanice were there too, as were six of Gareth and Gwen’s oldest friends – three couples. It was formal to begin with. The judge sat on the podium and spoke about adoption, then he congratulated the family, wished them well for the future and stood ready to present Alex with his certificate. Alex looked so proud (and a little self-conscious) as he walked up to the podium in his suit to collect the certificate. The judge shook his hand and congratulated him personally. Then he and the judge came down into the body of the court and we all posed for photographs. After the ceremony family and friends were invited for lunch. Gareth had booked a table at an Italian restaurant just round the corner. Once there I gave them the presents I’d brought: a crystal vase inscribed with ‘Congratulations’ and today’s date for Gwen and Gareth and a watch for Alex. I’d checked beforehand with Gwen that he would like one.

  As we ate the delicious food I chatted with Gwen and Gareth’s friends – lovely, warm people who’d known them since their twenties. One of the couples fostered, so we had plenty to talk about. They all said what a wonderful family Gwen and Gareth had created and how pleased they were that Alex was part of it, and that he wouldn’t give them the trouble Mark and Taylor had. Little did we realize then, but later I thought how those words must have come back to haunt them …

  We left the restaurant at around 2.30, as most of us had children to collect from school, and once home I showed Adrian and Paula the photographs I’d taken of the day and told them all about the ceremony.

  Time passed, months turned into years, and our families got together when we could. We always exchanged Christmas cards and I always sent Alex a birthday card containing money or a voucher. Alex stayed at his primary school until the age of eleven, when he transferred to a secondary school closer to his home. All went well until he was nearly thirteen and hit puberty, then trouble began.

  I wasn’t aware of just how bad things were to begin with, as Gwen just said that Alex was starting to test the boundaries, but then so do lots of young people at that age. It’s part of growing up, as children discover adulthood and seek greater autonomy and freedom. Adrian was the same age as Alex and I’d noticed that he, too, had started questioning my authority sometimes and pushing the boundaries. Given that Mark and Taylor had arrived at Gwen and Gareth’s with very challenging behaviour and police records, I didn’t think too much about it. Then, by sheer coincidence, I was in the high street one weekday morning when I passed a group of youths behaving rowdily. Of school age, they were shouting, swearing, play-fighting and generally making a nuisance of themselves, and a couple of them were smoking. Passers-by had to step off the pavement and into the road to get by them, but I held my ground. As I drew level, to my horror I saw that one of the lads was Alex. He saw me too and quickly passed his cigarette to the girl next to him. I stopped dead in my tracks.

  ‘Alex! What are you doing here?’ I asked, surprised and shocked.

  ‘Is that your mum?’ the girl asked with a smirk, referring to me.

  ‘No,’ Alex said, and had the decency to look embarrassed. It had been about six months since I’d last seen him at Gwen and Gareth’s, but it hadn’t been for long as he’d been going out.

  ‘How are you?’ I asked. ‘No school today?’

  ‘I’ve been suspended, Miss,’ one of the other lads bragged with a laugh.

  Alex didn’t reply and couldn’t look me in the eyes. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he said to the others.

  ‘Bye, Miss,’ the girl said. Dragging on the last of the cigarette, she threw it in the gutter.

  The group turned and walked away and I watched them go. Alex didn’t look back. An elderly couple coming in the opposite direction had to move out of their way as they passed. I heard the man remark disgustedly, ‘The youth of today!’

  Shocked and upset by what I’d seen, I continued to my car. I’d finished my shopping and had been on my way home. Whatever was Alex doing here? This town was a forty-minute bus ride from his home, and why wasn’t he in school? Surely he hadn’t been suspended like the other lad? And smoking. Gwen would be so upset. It was clear he wasn’t keeping the best company. My thoughts churned away as I drove home and then for the rest of the afternoon. I kept going over what I’d seen and then returning to the question: should I telephone Gwen and Gareth and tell them? Would I want to know if I was in their position? I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but then again I felt I would want to know if it was one of my children. Alex was so unlike the child of a year ago, it had shocked and worried me.

  By 9 p.m. when my children were in bed asleep I’d decided I’d make the call to Gwen and Gareth, and with increasing anxiety I dialled their number. Their phone rang for a while and then Kaylee (now twenty-four) answered as she often did with a very polite and well-practised, ‘Hello. Who would you like to speak to?’

  ‘Hello, Kaylee, it’s Cathy. Is Mummy there?’ I knew that if I asked her how she was or engaged her in conversation we would be chatting for some time, and tonight I just wanted to say what I had to and see if I could help at all. There was silence on the other end of the phone, so I said again, ‘Kaylee, it’s Cathy. Can you tell Mummy I’d like to talk to her, please?’

  Then I heard Gwen in the background ask, ‘Who is it, love?’

  ‘Cathy,’ Kaylee replied.

  Gwen came to the phone. ‘Hi, how are you?’ She sounded upbeat. ‘Sorry I haven’t been in touch, the time has just vanished.’

  ‘We’re fine,’ I said.

  I knew I needed to come straight to the point, but it still wasn’t easy. ‘Gwen, I’ve agonized all afternoon if I should phone and tell you, and I decided that if it was one of my children I’d want to know. I saw Alex this morning in our high street and …’ I didn’t get any further.

  ‘Wait a minute while I close the door,’ she said. ‘So we can’t be overheard. Alex has just got back. Gareth is with him now.’

  The phone was set down, I heard a door close and then Gwen came back on the line, her voice now sombre and subdued. ‘Sorry, Cathy, we’re going through hell at present with Alex. The police returned him about twenty minutes ago. Gareth is giving him a good talking to now.’

  ‘Gwen, this is obviously a bad time for me to phone. Shall I call back another time?’

  ‘No, stay. I could do with someone to talk to, and it’s safer if Gareth speaks to him.’

  ‘Safer?’ I asked, dismayed.

  ‘Alex is very angry with me. He’s raised his fist to me in the past and has threatened me.’ Her voice faltered. ‘Oh, Cathy, you won’t believe what we’ve been going through with him.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘He was doing so well.’

  ‘I know. It’s taken us all unawares. We expected this sort of behaviour with Mark and Taylor when they first arrived. They were completely out of control and tested us to the limit. But once they realized we’d always be there for them, and would love them no matter what, they bega
n to settle down and became like different boys. But Alex has been settled and one of the family for the last six years, and then he hits puberty. It’s as though all the hurt, anger and resentment from his early years has been unleashed.’

  ‘Oh, Gwen. How are you all coping?’

  ‘I’m not sure we are,’ she said. ‘You name it and Alex is doing it – smoking illegal substances, drinking, stealing, lying, truanting, getting into fights and trouble with the police. He’s due in court next week. And the drugs and alcohol are turning his brain and making him paranoid. He says the most ludicrous things.’

  ‘Is he having counselling?’ I asked, horrified and overwhelmed by what I was hearing.

  ‘It’s been offered, but he won’t attend. Gareth and I have been seeing a counsellor for advice on how to deal with Alex’s behaviour, and also to offload. He’s pushed us to the limit. I’m not sure how much more of this we can stand. Some of the things he’s been saying are really nasty and designed to hurt us. He’s so angry.’

  ‘Like what?’ I asked, appalled.

  ‘He says he never loved us and it was just an act. We know it’s not true, but it still hurts. He accuses us of loving Mark, Taylor and Kaylee more than him, and says we are unfair and show them favouritism, which just isn’t true. If anything Alex has had more than his share of love and attention because he’s the youngest.’

  ‘I know, Gwen. He doesn’t mean it. He’s angry.’

  ‘That’s what the counsellor said. But he tells Kaylee she’s stupid, which is really nasty.’ Gwen’s voice faltered again. ‘When Gareth or I tell him how unkind that is he tells us to go and fuck ourselves and to put him into care. He often says he’d rather be in care. I know it’s designed to hurt us, and it works, but the social worker from the post-adoption team said it might be the only option in the end.’

  I went cold. ‘Oh no, don’t say that. Please.’

  ‘Trust me, Cathy, it would be the very last resort, but I honestly don’t know how much more we can take. Alex’s behaviour isn’t just affecting Gareth and me; it’s impacting on the others. Mark and Taylor have become very protective of us. They’ve tried talking to Alex, but they’ve lost patience. They threatened to give him a good hiding if he didn’t sort himself out, and Kaylee just bursts into tears when there is any nastiness. She hates shouting or unpleasantness of any kind. She’s such a gentle soul and can’t understand why Alex is behaving like this. It breaks my heart. It’s a nightmare.’

  ‘It is,’ I said. I didn’t know what to say. ‘And the counsellor says this has all come about because Alex has hit puberty?’

  ‘She explained that children with backgrounds like Alex’s often struggle more in adolescence – a combination of all those hormones and the trauma of their early life experiences. She said she’d supported other adopters in similar situations. But it’s always more difficult if the younger person won’t engage or is using drugs and alcohol to numb the pain. I blame that crowd Alex has got in with for that. I expect he was with them today.’

  ‘He was with a group,’ I said. ‘Four lads and a girl.’

  ‘That’ll be them. I had a phone call this morning from his school to say he hadn’t arrived. I knew he wouldn’t stay around here, as I’ve found him before in our town and taken him back to school. Two of the boys are brothers. It’s the older one that supplies them with the drink and drugs. This evening when Alex hadn’t arrived home by six o’clock – the time he’s supposed to be home – we waited an hour and then reported him missing to the police. That’s what we’re supposed to do as part of the behavioural contract the post-adoption social worker suggested.’ A behavioural contract is a signed agreement between the young person and the adult(s) responsible for them, which sets out the rules and expectations to modify their unsafe or unacceptable behaviour. There are rewards for improving their behaviour and consequences for not doing so.

  ‘I’d no idea it was that bad,’ I said. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘I doubt it. But let me know if you think of anything.’ She gave a small, humourless laugh.

  Then suddenly there was an almighty crash, as if a large object had been thrown and smashed, together with Alex’s voice, almost unrecognizable: ‘There’s fuck all you can do about it, so don’t piss me off!’ Then another crash.

  ‘Got to go, Cathy. I’ll phone you when I have the chance.’

  And the line went dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Before It’s Too Late

  Shocked, saddened and extremely worried, I tried to think if there was anything I could do to help Gwen, Gareth and their family through the terrible time they were having with Alex. They were highly experienced in handling challenging behaviour and had successfully survived a very testing time with Mark and Taylor. I hoped and prayed they’d find the strength to be able to do the same with Alex. Although of course this was different, as Mark and Taylor had arrived out of control, and with love, commitment and firm boundaries had finally settled down. Alex, on the other hand, had been much younger, had settled quickly and had been a fully integrated member of their family for six years. I knew that despite what he was now saying about not loving Gwen and Gareth, he had loved them and underneath his anger still did, as they loved him. But how long the family could survive the type of behaviour they were now having to deal with I didn’t know. Everyone has a breaking point. Gwen had said they were accessing post-adoption support and seeing a counsellor, but unless Alex engaged and saw the counsellor too, the service could only be of limited help. My heart went out to them as I pictured Mark and Taylor protecting their parents from Alex’s anger, and Kaylee, just wanting everyone to be happy, in tears. The worst-case scenario was that Alex would end up in care again or, if he got into further trouble with the police, a young offenders’ institution. In the UK a shocking quarter of those in young offenders’ institutions are from care.

  I desperately wanted to do something to try to help, and after much thought I decided that probably the best offer I could make was to give them some time. I’d suggest that Alex came to stay with me for a few days. It would give them all a break and hopefully Alex the space he needed to take stock of his life and realize what he was doing wrong. I’d also try to talk some sense into him. But there were a number of considerations I had to take into account before I made this offer. One, I was now fostering Lucy (whom I went on to adopt and whose story I tell in Will You Love Me?). I’d need to consider the impact Alex staying would have on her, and her social worker would have to approve it, even if it was only for a few days, as would Jill and the agency I fostered for. It’s a requirement of fostering that both the foster child’s social worker and the fostering agency are informed straight away of any changes in a carer’s household. And of course as well as asking Lucy I would need to ask Adrian and Paula for their views, for who knew what damage Alex might do?

  I didn’t go into all the details when I spoke to the children. I just said that Alex and his family were going through a difficult time and I was thinking of suggesting that Alex came to stay with us for a few days. They said they didn’t mind and Adrian made the offer of sharing his bedroom with Alex, which I thanked him for but declined. I would be keeping a close eye on Alex and would minimize any opportunity for him to influence Adrian. Young people at this age can be very impressionable and some of what he might tell Adrian could sound daring and risqué. I’d either give up my bedroom for Alex or he could sleep downstairs on the sofa bed.

  I telephoned Jill first. She knew I was still in touch with Alex and his family. I was honest in my account of the problems they were experiencing. I had to be, and possibly she was already aware from a colleague that there were problems. She said she’d need to speak to her manager but she thought he’d agree to Alex staying, and I would obviously supervise him very well. She also said she’d speak to Lucy’s social worker. Three days later Jill phoned back and gave me the go-ahead, with the stipulation that I mustn’t leave Alex unattended in
the house or with Lucy, which I didn’t intend to.

  When I told Gwen her voice broke with emotion as she thanked me. ‘That is kind of you. Let me have a chat with Gareth and I’ll get back to you. We’ll have to think how to put it to Alex so he doesn’t see it as another rejection.’ I then suggested that as it was half-term holiday the following week, Alex could come and stay with me then.

  Gwen telephoned back two days later, thanked me for my offer but said Alex didn’t want to come. In fact, he’d taken it badly and had accused me of plotting with Gwen and Gareth against him.

  ‘Oh dear, I am sorry,’ I said. ‘That was never my intention.’

  ‘I know, but in his present state of mind he interprets any situation involving him as a conspiracy.’

  There wasn’t much else I could suggest, so I told Gwen that if Alex changed his mind – the offer stood – or if there was anything else I could do to help, to let me know.

  ‘I’m not sure there is,’ she said despondently. ‘But thanks anyway. We’re just going to have to try to work through this. Although I’m not sure how.’

  Gwen had said that Alex had taken my offer badly, and now he was about to show me just how badly. The following night he and his mates threw a brick through the window of my downstairs front room. I don’t want to put anyone off applying to foster, so it’s important to say that nothing like this has ever happened before or since. But it was one of the scariest moments of my life. It was a little after 11 p.m. Adrian, Lucy and Paula were in their bedrooms, asleep, and I’d just gone up. Thankfully, the front room was empty or one of us could have been badly hurt. I was in my bedroom, still dressed, when the noise of breaking glass startled me, although I didn’t know at that point it was the window of the room below. I quickly crossed to my bedroom window and parted the curtains in time to see a group of lads running off up the street. I recognized Alex with what looked like the same group I’d seen him with in the high street, minus the girl. Shocked and trembling, I went downstairs, flicking on the lights as I went. In the hall I saw that the front door wasn’t broken, but as I entered the front room my heart stopped. I stared at the scene before me. ‘Oh no!’ I cried. There was a large hole in the centre of the window with tentacles of fractured glass spiralling out. Shards of glass covered the chair in front of the window and the surrounding floor. I stared in horror at the builder’s brick on the floor directly in front of the window. ‘Oh, Alex,’ I said under my breath. To be honest, I could have cried from the shock of it all and that he had done this to us.