Too Scared to Tell. Cathy Glass
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like this?’
‘He’s been very quiet since he arrived, but he hasn’t been this tense.’
‘Don’t you like doctors?’ she asked him with a smile.
Oskar stared back, petrified.
‘It won’t take long,’ she said. ‘Let’s have a look at your arms and legs first then.’ She began by easing up his trouser legs as far as they would go to the knees and examining his legs. ‘They’re fine,’ she said. Then she looked at his arms and moved up his jersey. With a flat hand she began lightly pressing his stomach. Oskar shut his eyes, held his breath and grimaced.
‘I’m not hurting you, am I?’ the doctor asked, pausing, concerned.
He didn’t reply but kept his eyes screwed tightly shut. She glanced at me and then moved her hand to his lower abdomen. Oskar went rigid. He was so still and tense that for a moment I thought he was going to fit.
‘OK, that’s enough,’ the doctor said. ‘You can get off the couch.’ I helped him down. ‘From what I can see he appears healthy, but he’s very anxious. I’ll send my report to his social worker. He may want a follow-up medical in a few months when Oskar is more relaxed.’
I thanked her and helped Oskar into his jacket, then I took his hand as we left the consulting room. I wasn’t reassured by hearing the doctor pronounce Oskar healthy, not at all. The only other child I’d seen so stressed at having a medical and who hadn’t wanted to remove their clothes had been sexually abused. Alarm bells were ringing again, although of course it was still only a suspicion. There was no proof, and I sincerely hoped I was wrong.
Chapter Five
Oskar was just as quiet in the car on the way home from the Health Centre as he had been on the way there. I asked him a couple of times if he was all right, without much response, and then I said I was going to stop off at the supermarket so he could choose some food he liked. He didn’t reply but I went anyway, as I needed to top up on general food items like bread, milk, fruit and so forth.
‘Would you like to push the trolley?’ I asked Oskar. Most children love being in charge of a supermarket trolley, sometimes to the detriment of other shoppers! Oskar shook his head, but he was content to walk beside me as we went up and down the aisles.
‘Tell me if you see anything you fancy,’ I said. It’s not an invitation I would offer to some children, as we would end up with a trolley full of crisps, sweets, biscuits and Pot Noodles. Oskar didn’t make any suggestions at all.
The supermarket, like many, had plenty of counters displaying food from other countries and I pointed these out to Oskar and lingered by them, hoping he would spot something he liked, but he didn’t. He wasn’t interested and remained thoughtful. When we got to the bread counter, I asked him if he could see any of the rolls he had for breakfast at home. Without any enthusiasm, he took a bag of sourdough bread rolls with seeds on and passed them to me. ‘Good. What would you like to go in them?’
He shrugged. ‘Don’t mind.’
I thought that once his social worker had spoken to his mother, I’d have a better idea of Oskar’s likes and dislikes. All I knew at present was what Oskar’s uncle had told Andrew: that Oskar didn’t have any food allergies or special dietary requirements. But all children have food preferences, which I try to accommodate within reason. For now, however, I bought the rolls and some more ham and cheese filling, as well as the other items we needed. Oskar remained quiet and pensive as we completed the shop, and afterwards, when we were in the car going home, I asked him if there was anything wrong, but he shook his head. Then, as I drove, he suddenly asked, ‘Will I have to have another medical?’
‘Possibly in the future. Most children do, but it’s nothing to worry about.’
‘I don’t like taking off my clothes,’ he said.
‘I know.’ I glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. ‘Why?’
Silence. He was staring out of his window and frowning.
‘Is there any reason you don’t like undressing?’ I asked him. ‘We all have to undress sometimes, to shower, go swimming or when we see a doctor.’
There was a long silence and then he said again, ‘I don’t like taking off my clothes.’
‘I know, you said. Is there a reason?’ There was no reply and so the matter was dropped.
Oskar and I were the only ones in when we arrived home, apart from Sammy, who, hearing us, had shot in through the cat flap in the kitchen, startling Oskar. I was unpacking the shopping and Oskar had been standing to one side, watching me. I noticed he didn’t let me far out of his sight. Sammy began meowing loudly for his dinner. ‘Would you like to feed him?’ I asked Oskar.
He nodded.
I broke off from unpacking the groceries, took the bag of dry cat food from the cupboard and gave the scoop to Oskar. ‘Just one scoop,’ I said. ‘Place it in his food bowl.’
Oskar fed Sammy and then watched him eat, while I finished unpacking the shopping.
‘I bought you some new clothes, and there’s a present for you on your bed,’ I said to Oskar.
I was expecting some form of positive reaction, but to my astonishment he said, ‘I don’t want it.’
‘But you haven’t seen what it is yet,’ I said, smiling.
He looked at me, wide-eyed and wary, as he often was.
‘Do you want to go up and see what it is?’
He shook his head.
‘OK, shall I bring it down?’ Some children don’t like going upstairs by themselves, and the house was still strange to him.
He didn’t reply, so I went upstairs and brought down the teddy bear, which was still in the store bag. ‘I hope you like it,’ I said, handing it to him.
I might have been giving him hot coals for all the trepidation he showed in opening the bag. He gingerly parted the top, peered inside and looked at me.
‘It won’t bite. It’s a cuddly teddy bear,’ I said, stating the obvious. ‘With lovely soft fur. We could sit him at your place at the table,’ I suggested.
He handed me the bag, so I assumed he was in agreement, and I sat the bear in the chair next to Adrian’s. He watched me warily but didn’t say anything. ‘You’ll have to think of a name for him,’ I suggested.
‘Luka,’ he said.
‘That’s a nice name.’
‘It’s my brother’s.’
‘Brother?’ I asked, astonished. There had been no mention of a brother.
‘Where does he live?’ I wondered if Andrew knew of the existence of Oskar’s brother, which could raise further child-protection issues.
Oskar just looked at me.
‘Does your brother live with you?’ I asked.
He shook his head.
‘Where is he?’
‘With my aunt.’
‘Where?’
He shrugged.
‘How old is Luka? Do you know?’
‘Twelve.’
‘Do you have any other brothers or sisters?’
He shook his head again.