Nobody’s Son: Part 1 of 3: All Alex ever wanted was a family of his own. Cathy Glass
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might postpone the introduction because of this move,’ he added. ‘I know it’s not the best timing, but you have to put your own first, don’t you?’
Difficult one, I thought. My experience of fostering had taught me that sometimes the needs of the foster child had to be placed first and your own family did on occasions have to take second place. Toscha, our rather lazy cat, sauntered out from behind the sofa where she’d been curled up in her favourite place beside the radiator. Alex looked startled.
‘She won’t hurt you,’ I said. ‘She’s just come to say hello. Do you like cats?’
Alex nodded cautiously. My first impression of him was that he was a slightly nervous child, unsure of himself or situations. Hardly surprising given his unsettled past. Children show anxiety in different ways; some run in loud and assertive while others, like Alex, recede into their shell until they feel safe.
‘He’s fine with animals,’ Graham said. ‘We’ve got a cat and a dog.’
‘That’s good,’ I said, relieved. ‘Toscha likes you, Alex.’ She was purring loudly and sniffing his jumper. He didn’t seem to mind.
I let Alex play for another ten minutes while Graham and I talked – about the weather, fostering and life in general. It was important for Alex to see me getting along with his current carer, as it would give the move and me the stamp of approval, but I was aware that Graham needed to get back so I suggested showing them around the house.
‘I’ll show you my room,’ Adrian said proudly. Taking hold of Alex’s hand, he drew him to his feet.
Graham saw this. ‘It’ll be nice having someone your own age to play with, won’t it?’
Alex managed a small smile and picked up his toy transporter to take with him.
‘So, this is our living room,’ I said, beginning the tour. ‘We’re often in here, playing games or watching the television. You can see the garden through the patio windows. It’s lovely to play out there in summer but a bit cold at present, unless of course we have snow.’
‘I hope we have snow,’ Adrian said.
‘Me too,’ Alex quietly agreed.
I led the way through to our kitchen-cum-diner.
‘That’s my place,’ Adrian said, pointing to his chair at the table. ‘You can sit next me if you like. Can’t he, Mum?’
‘Yes, of course,’ I said.
‘That’ll be nice, won’t it?’ Graham said encouragingly.
Alex nodded again.
Toscha had followed us out and Paula bent down to stroke her. Alex did likewise. ‘I like your doll,’ he said shyly to Paula.
She smiled equally shyly. ‘I like your car.’
Great first step, I thought: all three children were talking to each other and Alex was starting to relax a little. I continued the tour downstairs into the front room and then upstairs. Alex wasn’t really interested in the other bedrooms or the bathroom – what seven-year-old boy would be? – but it was important that he saw them, as he would be able take away an image of the inside of our house so it wouldn’t feel so strange when he moved in tomorrow. However, when we went into his bedroom he looked lost and bewildered. I’d made it as homely as I could, with posters of action heroes on the walls and a Batman duvet cover on the bed, but it still looked rather empty compared to the other rooms.
‘It will be much better once you have all your things in here,’ I told Alex.
‘We’ll pack everything when we get home, mate,’ Graham said to Alex. Then to me, ‘We bought him a bike for Christmas; have you got a shed it can go in?’
‘Yes.’ Alex looked anxious. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said to him. ‘We have room for all your belongings. Nothing will get left behind.’ It is often an anxiety for children who come into care or those who’ve had a number of moves that their possessions will be lost or left behind. And of course in a month’s time we’d be packing up all Alex’s possessions again and moving him to his permanent home. From what I’d seen of Alex so far he was coping with all of this very well.
‘Do you like your room?’ Graham asked him.
Alex gave a small nod.
‘Good, and remember Adrian’s room is just next door,’ I said.
We’d seen the other rooms upstairs, so Graham led the way out of Alex’s room and downstairs. He didn’t return to the living room; instead he stopped at the coat stand and unhooked Alex’s coat. ‘Get your trainers on then, mate,’ he said. ‘You’ll see Cathy again tomorrow.’
I appreciated Graham wanted to get back to his wife and pack. ‘We’ll see you in the morning,’ I said to Alex with an encouraging smile.
He nodded.
‘At eleven o’clock,’ Graham said to me. ‘Is that what you were told?’
‘Yes.’
Alex had put on his trainers and Graham passed him his coat. ‘Will I still be able to go to my old school?’ he quietly asked Graham.
‘I think so, mate,’ he replied.
‘Yes, you will,’ I confirmed. ‘I’ll take you there in my car. You go to breakfast club so we’ll take you there first and then Adrian to his school and Paula to nursery.’
Alex looked relieved and managed another small smile. School is often the only constant factor in a foster child’s life if they have to move home; it’s familiar, safe and reliable, so it’s important that they remain at the same school if at all possible. There was a chance that Alex would have to change schools when he went to his adoptive parents, as the matching process – children with prospective parents – stretches across the country, but if so that would be unavoidable, and it would be the last move he’d have to make.
‘See you tomorrow then,’ Graham said as they headed down the front path.
We watched them go and then I closed the front door.
‘I like Alex, he’s nice,’ Adrian said.
‘I like him too,’ Paula agreed.
‘He’s a lovely little boy, but remember he’ll only be staying with us for a few weeks,’ I cautioned, as much for my benefit as the children’s. I knew how easily we became attached to the children we looked after, especially a child like Alex, unassuming and vulnerable. You felt like you wanted to give him a big hug and never let him go, but he’d only be with us a short while.
We played some card and board games that afternoon and then in the evening, after dinner, the three of us watched some television. The house phone rang at six o’clock and I was slightly surprised to hear John, their father. He usually telephoned on a Sunday evening, but he quickly explained that he was away for a few days so he was phoning now while he had the chance, as he didn’t like to let the children down. I bit back the retort at the tip of my tongue about letting the children down in a much bigger way and passed the handset to Adrian, who usually spoke to him first. Adrian told him about school and football and what he’d been doing generally – a life that John had once been part of and familiar with but now needed to be told about. When Adrian had finished his news he passed the phone to Paula who, not understanding about divorce, asked as she had done before, ‘When are you coming home, Daddy?’ It stung my heart now as it always did.
‘He’s not,’ Adrian said under his breath.
‘It’s OK,’ I said quietly to him. Then to Paula I said, ‘Daddy is coming to see you next Sunday.’
John must have said something similar for she repeated, ‘Seeing Daddy next weekend.’ Then, satisfied that she’d spoken to him, she said, ‘Goodbye, Daddy,’ and passed the phone to Adrian to say goodbye and hang up.
John