Hidden

by Glass, Cathy

  Tayo’s first review was scheduled to take place at Social Services. Invited along were Tayo, his mother, his social worker, the Guardian Ad Litum, a representative from his school, and myself as his foster carer. A senior social worker unconnected to the case would be chairing the meeting.

  Although Tayo was old enough and intelligent enough to be present, he declined because it would have meant him missing PE (and therefore football). Instead, he was sent a small booklet to fill in with his views, wishes, and any grievances. It was returned to his social worker so that his perspective could be brought to the meeting.

  We began the meeting fifteen minutes late, at quarter past eleven. Roberta de la Haye was the representative from Meadway, as I’d expected, as she was the designated person for looked-after children. Sandra and I were also there, along with Maureen Green, who was chairing. Minty hadn’t turned up or sent a message to say she wasn’t coming; neither had the Guardian, Alison Hemming-Sanders. Minty’s absence and lack of apology was forgivable if disappointing, but the Guardian’s absence with no apology was unacceptable.

  ‘Has anyone heard from her?’ Maureen Green asked a little crossly.

  ‘No,’ Sandra said.

  I shook my head.

  ‘I’m going to start then. We can’t wait any longer.’

  After introductions, Maureen asked Roberta de la Haye to start. She took a sheet of paper from a folder in front of her and began a résumé of Tayo’s progress at school, which had markedly improved since his circumstances had settled. Not only was he now looking smarter and had more confidence, his academic work was going from strength to strength, and she supported this by giving some recent test results. Tayo was also less sly and less prone to using his intelligence to manipulate situations. She said that Mrs Gillings found him a likable and pleasant member of her class.

  ‘That’s it, really,’ she concluded, running her finger down the sheet of paper. ‘Except that we’ve noticed Tayo has begun to talk a lot about his father. We weren’t aware that his father was on the scene …’

  ‘He isn’t, I’m afraid,’ Sandra said quickly. ‘Tayo hasn’t seen his father in over five years. He thinks he could be in Nigeria but we haven’t been able to trace him.’

  ‘I see,’ Mrs de la Haye said. ‘I’m surprised. From the way Tayo has been talking about him, we thought they were in regular contact with each other.’

  I shook my head and looked over at Maureen Green. ‘It’s becoming a bit of a problem because Tayo is convinced that his father is going to come to this country to take him “home”, and he’s built up a picture in his head of what his father is like – a heroic figure who will suddenly appear and whisk him away. He has a vague recollection of living with his gran and dad when he was little. It’s possible he did, but it’s so long ago, we can’t know for sure.’

  ‘And he has no names or addresses or anything, so it’s impossible to trace them. I’ve tried,’ Sandra added.

  ‘Does his mother know where they are?’ Maureen asked.

  ‘If she does she’s not saying,’ replied Sandra. ‘She refuses to discuss the subject.’

  ‘So there’s no chance of Tayo going to Nigeria to live with them?’ Roberta de la Haye asked.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Sandra confirmed.

  ‘I see,’ Roberta said. ‘I’ll tell his class teacher. Tayo was pretty convincing when he told her that’s what he was going to do. Poor kid.’ She looked at Sandra. ‘I take it he won’t be going back to Mum?’

  ‘Highly unlikely,’ Sandra said. ‘Although the final court hearing isn’t until October.’

  Roberta nodded, then looked at me. ‘It’s a shame he can’t stay with you for the long term, Cathy. He seems so happy and settled.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, feeling guilty even though I knew it wasn’t my fault. ‘But I’m a short term and emergency carer. I help children adapt to care before they’re found permanent families. Besides, I think Tayo might be happier in a two-parent family. He would benefit from a strong male role model.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Roberta. ‘You obviously can’t keep all the children you foster, Cathy – but it’s a shame he’ll have to move again. Now, if you’ve finished with me, I’d better be getting back to school.’

  Maureen Green thanked her, and Roberta de la Haye left.

  ‘Cathy, would you like to go next?’ Maureen said.

  My report was brief and I didn’t need notes. It was nearly all positive, although I touched on the problems we’d had earlier, with the incidents of lying and stealing. I said that Tayo’s poor self-image in relation to his dual-heritage had greatly improved – in fact, I now found it difficult to get him away from the bathroom mirror in the morning, so busy was he preening himself. Sandra and Maureen laughed.

  But I also stressed what I’d said about Tayo’s unrealistic expectations of his father. ‘I’m trying to guide him towards accepting that he’s going to be in care for some time,’ I added, ‘but he’s not there yet by any means.’

  ‘Does Tayo talk about his father often at home?’ Maureen enquired.

  ‘Yes. I wouldn’t say it’s obsessive but it might become so. He’s built up quite a detailed picture in his mind of what his father looks like, and the sort of character he is, including his likes and dislikes. We’ll be out visiting somewhere or doing something and Tayo will say, “My dad likes that” or “My dad can do that” or “I’m going to show my dad that”. Needless to say, in Tayo’s eyes his father is absolutely faultless, and he ignores the fact that there has been no word from him for five years, and that as far as we know, he hasn’t been looking for him.’

  Maureen nodded and took notes. ‘It’s sad, isn’t it?’ she said, then looked up at Sandra. ‘And you’re sure there’s no way his father can be found?’

  ‘I’m certain. We’re not even sure of his surname or if he is still in Nigeria.’

  Maureen finished writing. ‘Thank you, Cathy. Was there anything else?’

  ‘Only that I’d like permission to take Tayo on holiday with us at Easter. I’ve booked us a short break at CenterParcs.’

  ‘That sounds nice,’ Maureen said and made a note. ‘I take it there’s no problem with permission?’ she asked Sandra.

  ‘Shouldn’t be. I’ll get Minty to sign the consent form at contact, nearer the time.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Maureen said. ‘That’s something for Tayo to look forward to. I don’t suppose he’s ever had a holiday before.’

  ‘No,’ I confirmed, ‘he hasn’t.’

  It was Sandra’s turn next and she covered the legal position, what was known of Tayo’s background including what Tayo had told me, and then outlined Minty’s volatile, confusing and threatening behaviour. She added that Minty still hadn’t produced her contact details or any documents. ‘There are no passports, birth certificate, or any evidence of either of them being in the country or existing at all for that matter.’

  ‘Nothing at all?’ Maureen asked, surprised.

  ‘No. I don’t think Minty has any of the paperwork and she won’t cooperate so I can’t even begin to try and get photocopies. She’s very angry. I’ve spoken to her on her mobile once and I saw her at Headline Family Centre after the threatening call to Cathy. Minty did attend the placement meeting, although it was a bit of a disaster.’

  Maureen wrote this down. ‘Is she being assessed?’

  ‘We hope so,’ Sandra said, ‘but she’ll have to have an address. The court has ordered a psychological assessment as well, but that will rely on Minty coming to the offices, which she won’t at present.’

  ‘And did she know about this meeting?’

  ‘Yes. I left a message on her voicemail.’

  ‘I don’t see there’s any more you can do then. It’s a pity.’ Maureen paused. ‘All that remains now is for me to read out what Tayo has said.’

  She opened the small booklet, which Tayo had previously completed himself. I hadn’t read what he’d written. With younger children or tho
se who couldn’t read, I help them answer the questions, but Tayo was quite competent and had completed it unaided and put it in the envelope. Sandra had seen it though, and she smiled as Maureen began reading the first question, which was about what the child thought of his social worker. Tayo had written: ‘I like my social worker very much and I hope she finds my dad.’ The next question was about me, and Tayo had written: ‘I like Cathy and her family and I like all my new things and going to football. Thank you, Cathy.’ Next was about how he felt about being in care and Maureen read: ‘I don’t like being in care. Other children aren’t in care. They are with their mums and dads. I don’t want to be with my mum. I want to be with my dad.’ The last question was about how he saw his future, and predictably Tayo had written in large letters: ‘WITH MY DAD AND GRAN!’

  ‘I see what you mean,’ Maureen said as she closed the booklet. ‘He’s an intelligent lad so hopefully he will adjust in time.’

  Sandra and I agreed.

  Maureen finished by setting the date for the next review, which would be in three months’ time, then thanked us for attending, and added a special thanks to me for looking after Tayo. This was always done at the end of a review but is still nice to hear. ‘I’ll send a copy of the minutes to the Guardian,’ Maureen said, standing. ‘And, Sandra, will you make sure Minty has a copy? I hope Minty will feel able to come to Tayo’s next review.’ Then she added pointedly, ‘I hope the Guardian Ad Litum will feel the same.’

  The meeting was at an end.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Happy Holidays

  The end of February turned bitterly cold. The temperature plummeted to minus four degrees centigrade at night and didn’t rise above one degree during the day. Every morning Tayo helped me scrape the ice off the car windows while telling me they didn’t have snow in Nigeria, and that his dad lived near the coast so when he had finished school each day he would be able to go for a swim.

  I was becoming so used to his imaginary life in Africa that I rarely commented now. Only if the fantasy became too extreme did I draw him up and correct him. I felt that if this was Tayo’s prop, his way of dealing with the uncertainty of what lay ahead, then he probably needed it; if I took it completely away, it could do more harm than good. In all other aspects of his life, Tayo was doing very well, functioning as a well-balanced and healthy ten-year-old. Considering his past, that in itself was little short of a miracle.

  It was the half-term holiday and the weather obliged by snowing. I knew something was different even before I got out of bed and opened the curtains. There was that peacefulness, that muffled silence, as nature enfolded the streets, houses, trees, the very air, in its magical white cloak. Tayo must have felt it too because he was up at dawn. I heard his bedroom door open and, slipping on my dressing gown, I went out to the landing.

  ‘Cathy! It’s snowing!’ he exclaimed, beaming.

  ‘I know, isn’t it lovely?’

  We went into his bedroom and looked out over the garden. It had been a good fall, about four inches, and it was still coming down. Large fluffy snowflakes drifted steadily past the window.

  ‘Can I make a snowman?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course, we all will. And go tobogganing.’

  ‘Tobogganing!’ he cried. ‘What, with a real toboggan?’

  ‘Yes. I have a lovely toboggan in the shed that my father made for me when I was a child. We used to have more snow then.’

  ‘Wicked!’ he yelled and literally jumped for joy.

  ‘Tayo, it’s only seven o’clock, and Paula and Lucy are still asleep. Could you do something quietly for an hour or so? Then I’ll wake them. We’ll go the park, that hill is terrific there for tobogganing. I’m sure the girls will want to come too.’

  At nine o’clock, as the traffic struggled past in the icy conditions, the four of us headed towards the park, Tayo pulling the toboggan. With a decent fall of snow even walking was exciting, and we pelted each other with snowballs and left patterns with our gloved fingers on garden walls as we went. The air was so still, it was almost like a Christmas card scene. The snow had stopped falling now and a watery sun was rising in the frost-laden air.

  The park was really no more than a grassed wide-open space with a magnificent slow-gradient hill that was the best slope for miles around. There were already a couple of dozen children and adults there when we arrived, with more arriving by the minute. Tracks of compacted snow were starting to form as the toboggans, trays, sheets of plastic and cardboard hurtled down to the bottom. We walked up the hill, keeping to one side, our wellingtons crunching into the soft snow.

  Tayo admitted he had never used a toboggan before and I wanted him to take second go so that either Lucy or Paula could give him a demonstration first. I didn’t want an accident.

  ‘I know what to do,’ he protested, eyeing the other lads speeding down. ‘You just lie on it and go!’

  ‘But this one goes very fast,’ I said. ‘You wait until you see the runners.’ I turned the toboggan on its end and showed him the shiny metal strips my father had nailed on the wooden runners many years ago. They still shone. ‘And it’s heavier than the plastic ones,’ I said. ‘It gathers speed. That’s why we have this rope for the steering. Watch first, then you can have next turn.’

  We positioned the toboggan at the top of the hill where a line of us were waiting for those already at the bottom to get clear.

  Lucy climbed on and sat with her feet on the footrest and took the rope in her hands. We gave her a push and off she went.

  ‘Wow!’ Tayo said, as she quickly gathered speed. ‘Wow! Look at it go! It’s the fastest one here! It’s beaten all the others!’

  I wasn’t sure that was true, but it was fast. My father had made two exactly the same, one for my brother and one for me. And although it didn’t get as much use as it once did, especially with the warmer winters, when it did come out it was always a success. I was so pleased I’d kept it.

  We stood back from the edge to allow others to take their turn while Lucy dragged the toboggan back up the hill. ‘When you come back up,’ I said to Tayo, ‘make sure you keep well over to the side so you’re not hit by the ones going down.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he said, unable to control his impatience. ‘And I’m going to lie down on it.’

  ‘Not for the first go. I want you to get the feel of it, and it’s safer sitting so that you don’t go head first into anything.’

  Lucy returned with her cheeks glowing and eyes glistening from the cold. ‘It’s great,’ she said. ‘Can we do a double next time?’ The toboggan was big enough to seat two, one behind the other, and Lucy remembered the last time we’d used it, when she and Paula had doubled up thus getting more turns and not having to wait so long.

  ‘Yes, but let’s all have single go first,’ I said, wanting my turn.

  Tayo edged the toboggan to the brow of the hill and sat on it, heels on the foot rest with his toes pointing up. He took the rope in his hands and I showed him how to take up the slack and steer. ‘It’s really like the reins on a horse,’ I said. ‘Pull right for right and left for left. OK?’

  ‘Yes! Give me a big push off!’

  The girls and I gave him the biggest push we could muster and off he sailed. We heard him shout ‘Eureka!’ as he gathered speed and raced down the slope, then came to a halt at the bottom. He did as I had told him and kept well clear of the down-coming toboggans as he made his way up. Five minutes later he was beside us again, out of breath, and brimming over with exhilaration.

  ‘Terrific! Wicked! It was so cool!’

  Paula had her turn next, and then it was mine. As I sailed down, with the air rushing past my ears, I was a child again and felt that buzz of excitement and risk.

  ‘That wasn’t as fast as me,’ Tayo said on my return.

  For the rest of the morning we sailed down the hill in various combinations and by one o’clock we were all exhausted, although Tayo wouldn’t admit it, and hungry, and starting to get cold. I i
nsisted we returned for some lunch, with the promise that we would come back in the morning if the snow held. I thought it would, as the temperature was dropping fast and the sky looked full of snow.

  That afternoon Tayo and the girls made a giant snowman in the back garden and then followed it with a snowball fight. I took photos of the three of them covered in snow and hardly distinguishable from the snowman they posed beside.

  As I tucked Tayo into bed that night, he could hardly keep his eyes open. I realized we had gone a whole day without him mentioning his father once.

  ‘Night, night, sleep tight,’ I said.

  ‘And don’t let the bed bugs bite,’ he returned as he always did, and was asleep by the time I’d left the room.

  That evening I phoned my parents and told my father of the superb day we’d had tobogganing thanks to his piece of craftsmanship, which we calculated was thirty-six years old.

  * * *

  It froze that night and another two inches of snow fell so that the four of us made a return trip to the park the following morning. We had another fine morning of tobogganing, and Tayo met a friend from school there and brought him home to play, which was a first.

  By the end of the half-term week the snow was beginning to melt and what was left was dirty and grey and not suitable for tobogganing. I returned the toboggan to the shed and prepared for new half term that would see us to Easter and our holiday.

  Minty had missed both contact sessions during the week, using the snow as an excuse, even though all the main roads had been gritted and the buses were running normally by Tuesday. Tayo didn’t seem unduly upset, but I felt the rejection even if he didn’t seem to. Was this Minty’s way of beginning to separate from Tayo, without having to be assessed or go to court? That might be the easiest option for her, but it was the worst possible outcome for Tayo. I knew that children needed to see their parents fighting to have them returned to their care, even if there wasn’t a glimmer of hope, otherwise the child would feel that they weren’t wanted and not worth fighting for.