Too Scared to Tell: Part 2 of 3. Cathy Glass
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Lucy, Darren. Lucy had seen Darren on Friday and Saturday evening as well as at work during the week. In between, her phone frequently buzzed with text messages from him. I knew they were from him because she couldn’t help but smile as she read each message and then immediately replied. I assumed everything was going well and hoped to meet him when she felt the time was right.
Oskar was a little more relaxed at Mum’s on Sunday, possibly because it was his second visit. He managed to reply when she spoke to him and moved away from my side long enough to play with some of the toys in her toy box. But towards the end of the afternoon my brother popped in and I saw Oskar go on full alert. He jumped up from where he’d been sitting by the toy box and came to me. My brother was his usual chatty and friendly self, but Oskar shrank back whenever he spoke to him, and just nodded or shook his head in reply. I made the excuse that he hadn’t been with us for long and was still shy, but it was the same reaction I’d seen in Oskar when he was around Adrian and Andrew – a wariness of men.
I was driving back from Mum’s between five and six o’clock, so it was just after six when I telephoned Roksana. Oskar had promised me he would talk to her, but before I passed the phone to him I apologized to Roksana for phoning late and explained that we’d been to my mother’s, which was an hour’s drive away.
‘It’s OK,’ Roksana said easily. ‘I don’t work on Sunday evenings. It’s my one evening off.’
‘You do work long hours,’ I said.
‘Yes. All day and most nights. I have to support Oskar and Luka.’
While I admired her work ethic, again I wondered what impact this had had on Oskar and how it would affect the social services’ parenting assessment of her. In reality, she spent very little time with Oskar.
I’d already suggested to Oskar some things he could talk to his mother about – for example, what he’d been doing during the weekend – and it began well.
‘I’ve been out for the day,’ he said.
‘So have I,’ Roksana replied. ‘I’ve been to work and now I’m on my way home.’
‘I’m home now,’ Oskar said, and was about to say more when she interrupted.
‘No, you’re not,’ she said sharply. ‘You’re at your foster carer’s house. Your home is with me. Don’t forget that, Oskar.’
He looked crestfallen and after that all he would say was yes or no, and then, before long, goodbye. Their relationship appeared to be so fragile, it didn’t take much for either of them to recoil, and I wondered how much good telephone contact was doing. However, it had been agreed between Roksana and Andrew, so until he told me otherwise I would continue to make the phone calls on the evenings they didn’t see each other and hoped they improved.
When I collected Oskar from school on Monday afternoon I told him that Tamara, the Guardian, was visiting us and explained her role: a social worker who wanted to talk to him so she could tell the judge what was best for him long-term. Oskar was only six, but it was important he had some understanding of the court process and what it meant for him.
Tamara arrived promptly at four o’clock, shook my hand and smiled warmly at Oskar, who had come to the door with me. He managed a small hello.
Of average height and build, Tamara was in her fifties, smartly dressed in navy trousers, jacket and blouse. I knew from working with her before that she had a quiet, confident manner and was used to talking to children and eliciting a response. She accepted my offer of coffee and we sat in the living room, where she tried to engage Oskar in conversation but had no more success than Andrew had. She asked him about school and how that was going. ‘Good. I like school,’ he said. She asked him about seeing his mother and how that was. ‘Yes,’ he replied. She asked him if he liked living with me and he gave a small nod.
‘Excellent,’ Tamara replied, smiling at me.
She asked him if he had everything he needed from home. He didn’t reply so I said, ‘He has some of his clothes and I’ve bought what he needs. Roksana is going to let me have some more of his belongings, including some toys.’
‘I’ll remind her when I see her,’ Tamara said, making a note. Then to Oskar, ‘Do you understand why you are in care and living with Cathy?’
He nodded.
‘Can you tell me?’ He shook his head. ‘Has your social worker told you?’ He shrugged. ‘It’s because we want to make sure you are safe and well looked after.’ He stared back at her.
‘I’m seeing your mother next week,’ Tamara continued. ‘She has arranged to take an afternoon off work.’ The fact that she’d mentioned Roksana taking time off work suggested it might have been an issue, but I knew that the Guardians only usually worked office hours, and it was expected that the parent(s) made time to see them. I hoped Roksana understood the importance of the Guardian’s role.
Tamara then asked me how Oskar was settling in, about his routine and what he liked to do in his spare time as she made some notes. She gave me her business card listing her phone number and email address and said if Oskar or I had any questions I should contact her. She said she would see us at least once again before the final court hearing, which was set for October. She thanked me for my time and, having said goodbye to both of us, she left. Between now and October she would be gathering the information she needed to make a recommendation to the judge on whether Oskar could return to live with his mother.
It was now after five o’clock, so, setting the phone to speaker, I told Oskar it was time to call his mother. I said hello to Roksana and then passed the phone to him. ‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘Another social worker was here,’ he said.
‘Who?’ she asked anxiously. Oskar looked at me.
‘It was the Guardian ad Litem,’ I said into the speaker.
‘What did she want?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘She’s seeing me next week.’
‘It’s normal for the Guardian to see the child,’ I said, which I was sure would have been explained to her.
‘What did Oskar tell her?’
‘That he liked school and understood why he was in care. Try not to worry.’ I appreciated that parents with children in care must feel that a lot of meetings go on without them, which is true. I’m not the only one who would like to see more transparency in child-care proceedings. ‘I’ll let you and Oskar carry on chatting,’ I said. ‘Probably best not to quiz him about the Guardian’s visit, though.’
‘Have you been to school?’ she asked him.
‘Yes.’
‘Have you got homework?’
‘Yes.’
‘Make sure you do it.’
‘I will, I’m going to do it now,’ he said. ‘Bye.’
‘Bye, I’ll see you tomorrow.’
And that was that.
Of course I noted all this in my log as I was supposed to, while omitting my feeling that there was as much unsaid in these exchanges between Roksana and her son as there was said.
On Tuesday morning, notice of Oskar’s review arrived in the post. It was set for the following Monday at 2 p.m. at Oskar’s school. Children in care have regular reviews; the first takes place within four weeks of the child being placed or moving placement. The child’s parent(s), social worker, teacher, foster carer, the foster carer’s supervising social worker, and any other professionals or adults closely connected with the child are invited. Reviews are there to ensure that everything is being done to help the child, and that the care plan (drawn up by the social services) is up to date. They are chaired by an Independent Reviewing Officer (IRO), who also minutes the