Too Scared to Tell: Part 3 of 3. Cathy Glass
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Roksana copies at contact as I had been doing. It’s usual for foster carers to give the child’s family some photos, but previously Roksana, preoccupied as usual with her worries, had said thank you and tucked them into her bag rather than spending time going through them with Oskar. Hopefully she would show more enthusiasm with these, as they were of his first holiday.
I phoned Adrian and Lucy midweek as well as texting them, and Oskar told them excitedly all about swimming and what a great time he was having. They were pleased for him and interested in what he had to say. As was Luka, Aunty Dol, Uncle Ivan and his cousins when we phoned them. Sadly, his mother’s responses were often uninspiring, and she continued to share her problems with him. ‘I’ve just heard that my afternoon shifts have changed. I’ll need to sort that out when I get back,’ she told him once. Then another time, ‘I have to email your social worker and tell him when I’m returning to the UK.’
Oskar didn’t want to be reminded of his social worker when on holiday. ‘Bye, Mum,’ he said, and cut the call.
I wasn’t going to phone back as he’d spoken to everyone, but a few minutes later my mobile rang and I was surprised to hear Roksana’s voice. She wasn’t supposed to have my contact details, then I realized what I’d done – or rather not done. At home I used the landline to call her, which was set permanently to private number. I must have forgotten to do the same with my mobile. Hopefully it wouldn’t cause a problem, but I’d need to let Andrew know.
‘Can you tell Oskar that his abusers have been caught,’ she wanted to tell me.
‘Oh, thank you. Good. I’m pleased,’ I said.
‘So am I.’
‘Did you want to speak to Oskar again?’
‘No, you can tell him.’ And she said goodbye.
‘Was that Mummy?’ Oskar asked. We were in the hotel room.
‘Yes. Those men who abused you have been caught,’ I said, and then wished I hadn’t.
His face fell and I saw the sadness and pain return to his eyes, which I hadn’t seen the whole time we’d been away.
‘So there is nothing for you to worry about,’ I added quickly, and changed the subject.
Each evening after dinner there was an hour’s family entertainment, beginning at eight o’clock. The three of us went and then afterwards returned to our hotel room. There was entertainment later for adults too, but I didn’t feel comfortable using the hotel child-minding service and Paula wasn’t fussed about seeing the cabaret or going to the disco. Once Oskar was in bed, Paula and I either read or listened to music on our headphones. The room had a king-size bed, which Paula and I slept in, and a single bed in the recess, which Oskar had. There was enough space for another single bed, as the room could sleep four. Oskar changed in the bathroom and slept like a log, as did Paula and I. But all too soon the week came to an end and it was time for us to pack up and return home. Not only had we had a lovely, relaxing time, but I felt it had helped cement our family bond, as holidays can do.
Roksana hadn’t telephoned again since the evening I’d inadvertently divulged my mobile number, but on Saturday, as we were waiting at the airport for our flight to be called, she texted: I have an early flight back on Monday so I’ll see Oskar Tuesday.
I texted a reply: Thanks for letting me know. Don’t forget to tell Andrew.
Andrew would have to reinstate contact at the Family Centre. If it wasn’t possible for Roksana and Oskar to have the same arrangements, she would be offered alternative dates and times. I told Oskar that his mother was returning to the UK on Monday.
‘When she’s back will I still be able to talk to Aunty Dol?’ he asked.
‘Hopefully. I’ll need to ask your social worker, and find out your aunt’s number.’ I’d been phoning Roksana’s mobile when Oskar had been talking to his aunt and her family.
‘Mummy has Aunty Dol’s number,’ Oskar said eagerly. ‘I can get it for you.’
‘It’s OK. I can ask her once I’ve spoken to Andrew.’
‘Can I talk to my aunt every night?’ Oskar persisted.
‘Probably not. Remember, you also have to phone your mother and see her at contact,’ I said practically. ‘I was thinking of once a week if Andrew agrees.’
Oskar pulled a face, suggesting he’d rather phone his aunt than see or phone his mother, which in some ways was understandable. It was a more positive experience for him.
It was seven o’clock when we finally arrived home, to an almost empty house. It was Saturday evening and Adrian and Lucy had texted to say they were going out and would see us later or in the morning. Sammy was in and ignored us, punishing us for leaving him as cats do.
‘Sammy doesn’t like me any more,’ Oskar said as the cat turned his back on him and sauntered off.
‘He’s sulking,’ I said. ‘He’ll get over it.’
‘He should tell you what’s wrong,’ Oskar said. ‘Like I do.’
I smiled. Whenever Oskar had a sulk, looked gloomy or angry, I told him to tell me what was wrong and I’d see what I could do to make it better.
While Paula made us a drink, I unpacked the essentials from our suitcases and then got Oskar into bed. He was exhausted from travelling and fell asleep almost immediately, cuddling his teddy bear, Luka, who had also come on holiday with us. Paula went to her room to enjoy her own space again and I sat in the living room with a mug of tea and phoned my mother. We chatted for a while about our holiday and what she’d been doing. She’d seen my brother while we’d been away and also a friend, and had spent time gardening. She seemed fine and I said we’d visit her the following weekend.
I then opened the mail. There’s nothing like the stack of letters that greets us on returning from holiday to ground us in reality again! The tedious assortment of circulars, bills and appointments seemed to have conspired in my absence, as if to say, How dare you try to escape from this lot and relax! Included in the mail was an invitation to Oskar’s second review (which was to be held the following week at the council offices, as the school was closed) and the review forms for Oskar and me to complete. I put those to one side with the other letters that needed to be acted on. The rest I shredded and put in the recycling bin.
At nine o’clock it was still light, so I opened the patio doors and stepped outside. The air wasn’t as warm as in Crete, but it was still very pleasant. Adrian and Lucy had done a good job of watering the potted plants on the patio and they’d also cut the grass. The bird feeder had been topped up and a couple of finches were having a late supper. Sammy strolled out of the living room and, finally forgiving me for leaving him, rubbed around my legs, purring. Normality had returned.
I waited up for Adrian and Lucy to arrive home. Adrian returned at eleven and we hugged and then sat in the living room and talked until nearly midnight. He was going on his walking holiday in the Lake District with Kirsty the following day. As we talked, a text arrived from Lucy to say she was spending the night at Darren’s house and would see us tomorrow.
I texted back, Thanks for letting me know, love. Look forward to seeing you tomorrow.
‘Has Lucy stayed at Darren’s much while I’ve been away?’ I asked Adrian.
‘Yes, most nights. His parents have been away too, so they had the house to themselves. She’s fine, Mum, don’t worry.’
Sunday morning I spent unpacking and washing clothes, while Adrian packed for his holiday. We gave him the gifts we’d brought back, then wished him a happy holiday and waved him off at the door. He was going to collect Kirsty and then drive to the Lakes. Lucy arrived home in time for lunch and hugged and kissed us all, and Paula gave her the present we’d brought her. We talked as we ate. She was interested