Too Scared to Tell: Part 1 of 3. Cathy Glass

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СКАЧАТЬ to see who had invaded his territory. He’d been a bit feral when we’d first had him but could now be relied upon not to eat the children.

      ‘Your cat,’ Oskar said, staring at the cat.

      ‘Yes, he’s called Sammy,’ I said. ‘Would you like to stroke him?’

      He was showing the same reluctance to greet Sammy as Sammy was to him. Paula picked up the cat and presented him to Oskar. He tentatively stroked him.

      ‘Sammy likes you,’ Paula said, and finally Oskar’s expression gave way to a tiny smile. I breathed a sigh of relief.

      Oskar stroked Sammy a few more times and then our cat, a little short on patience, jumped from Paula’s arms and disappeared down the hall. Oskar looked after him but didn’t try to follow him as another child might.

      ‘Let’s take off your shoes,’ I said, undoing the Velcro. I helped him out of his shoes and left them with ours in the hall. His shoes, like his clothes, were in poor condition, as were those of many of the children I’d fostered.

      Before I’d left home to collect Oskar from school, I’d set out some toy boxes in the living room ready for our return. I’d found that playing can often distract a child from their worries and help them to feel at home and start to relax.

      ‘Let’s go and find some toys,’ I said enthusiastically. ‘Would you like a snack first to see you through till dinner?’

      He shook his head, so taking his hand we went into the living room. It’s at the back of the house with large glass patio doors that overlook the garden.

      ‘Would you like to play?’ Paula asked encouragingly, going over to the toy boxes.

Oskar looked at them and then at me. ‘Where do I have to sleep?’ he asked anxiously.

      ‘You have your own bedroom upstairs,’ I said. ‘It’s not bedtime yet, but would you like to see your room now?’

      He nodded.

      ‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘This way.’ It was slightly unusual for a child of his age to be more interested in their bedroom than toys. Teenagers can’t wait to chill out in their own rooms, but not so with younger children.

      ‘Shall I put dinner on?’ Paula asked. ‘I’m hungry.’

      ‘Yes, please. There’s a casserole in the fridge that just needs popping in the oven.’

      While Paula went to the kitchen, I took Oskar upstairs. Children react differently to the stress of coming into care: some are very loud and display challenging behaviour, while others, like Oskar, are quiet and withdrawn. The latter is more worrying, as it suggests the child is internalizing their pain, rather than letting it out.

      ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ I told him as we followed the landing round to his bedroom. He was holding my hand – in fact, gripping it quite tightly. ‘Do you have your own bedroom at home?’ I asked him as his gaze travelled warily around his room. He looked at me, confused. ‘Or do you share a bedroom?’ Information like this would usually have been available on the placement forms, had the move been planned in advance. It would have helped me build up a picture of Oskar’s home life before coming into care so I could better meet his needs; for example, if a child is used to sharing a bedroom with siblings, they might need a lot of reassurance on their first few nights of sleeping alone.

      ‘I sleep with Mummy,’ Oskar said.

‘OK.’ Although I wouldn’t have expected a child of Oskar’s age to be sleeping with a parent.

      ‘And Maria, Elana and Alina,’ he added.

      ‘Who are they?’ I asked, puzzled.

      He shrugged.

      ‘Are they your sisters?’

      He shook his head.

      ‘Cousins? Friends?’

      He shrugged again and began to look very worried, so I didn’t pursue it. Perhaps he was just confused by all the changes, but I’d have to tell his social worker. He would be checking Oskar’s home and seeing the sleeping arrangements for himself before he returned Oskar to his mother’s care.

      ‘We’ve got a nice big garden,’ I said, drawing him to the window. His room was at the rear of the house and overlooked the garden. He was just tall enough to see over the windowsill. ‘You can play out there when the weather is nice, and we also have a park nearby.’

      Oskar turned from the window to survey the room. ‘Do you like your bedroom?’ I asked. He didn’t reply. ‘Once we have some of your belongings from home in here it will feel more comfortable.’ Still no response. ‘Would you like to see the rest of the upstairs?’

      He gave a small nod.

He slipped his hand into mine again and I showed him the toilet first, and at the same time asked him if he needed to use it, but he didn’t. ‘This is Adrian’s room,’ I said, moving to the next door along the landing. ‘He’s grown up now, but you’ll meet him later when he gets in from work.’ I opened Adrian’s bedroom door just so Oskar could see inside. ‘All our bedrooms are private,’ I said. ‘Just for us.’ I closed Adrian’s door and went along the landing, opening and closing the girls’ bedroom doors, the bathroom and finally my bedroom.

      ‘There is where I sleep,’ I said.

      He looked in. ‘Do I sleep in here?’

      ‘No, love, in your own bedroom, the one we went in first. If you need me in the night, just call out and I’ll come to you.’

      He looked puzzled and then asked, ‘Do you sleep by yourself?’

      ‘Yes. I’m divorced. Do you know what that means?’

      He nodded. ‘Mummy is.’

      ‘OK. Come on, let’s find something to do,’ I said, and closed my bedroom door.

      ‘Shall I go to bed?’ he asked.

      ‘It’s a bit early yet. Come downstairs with me and you can play, then we’ll have dinner, and later you can go to bed.’

      Oskar did as I asked, and once we were downstairs he came with me into the kitchen-diner where Paula was laying the table ready for dinner later. ‘Thanks, love,’ I said to her.

      ‘I need to get on with some college work now,’ she said.

      ‘Yes, you go. Thanks for your help.’

      ‘I’ll see you at dinner,’ she told Oskar and, with a smile, left.

      The casserole was cooking in the oven and wouldn’t be ready for half an hour, so I suggested to Oskar that we go into the living room and play with some toys. He came with me, obedient and compliant but not enthusiastic. We sat on the floor by the toy boxes and I began taking out some of the toys, games and puzzles, trying to capture his interest. He watched me but didn’t join in. I wasn’t wholly surprised. It might take days, if not weeks, before he relaxed enough to play. СКАЧАТЬ