Saving Danny

Copyright

Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.

HarperElement

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published by HarperElement 2015

Text Copyright © Cathy Glass 2015

Illustrations Copyright © Nicolette Caven 2015

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015

Cover photograph © Deborah Pendell/Arcangel Images (posed by model)

Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

Source ISBN: 9780008130497

Ebook Edition © March 2015 ISBN: 9780008130503

Version: 2016-08-17

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Also by Cathy Glass

Acknowledgements

Chapter One: Lost and Frightened

Chapter Two: Meticulous

Chapter Three: George

Chapter Four: Precise

Chapter Five: Absolute Hell

Chapter Six: Prisoners

Chapter Seven: Crisis Averted

Chapter Eight: A Work of Art

Chapter Nine: Danny Drowning

Chapter Ten: Don’t Tell the Social Worker

Chapter Eleven: ‘Carrot Before the Donkey’s Nose’

Chapter Twelve: Forever?

Chapter Thirteen: Cooped Up

Chapter Fourteen: Traumatic

Chapter Fifteen: Danny’s World

Chapter Sixteen: Making Friends

Chapter Seventeen: Terri’s Visit

Chapter Eighteen: Footprints in the Snow

Chapter Nineteen: Love

Chapter Twenty: Important

Chapter Twenty-One: For the Good of the Child

Chapter Twenty-Two: No Cavity Club

Chapter Twenty-Three: History Repeating Itself?

Chapter Twenty-Four: Significant Development

Chapter Twenty-Five: Stay Calm

Chapter Twenty-Six: Saving Danny

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Another Story …

Epilogue

Exclusive sample chapter

Cathy Glass

If you loved this book …

Moving Memoirs eNewsletter

About the Publisher

Also by Cathy Glass

Damaged

Hidden

Cut

The Saddest Girl in the World

Happy Kids

The Girl in the Mirror

I Miss Mummy

Mummy Told Me Not to Tell

My Dad’s a Policeman (a Quick Reads novel)

Run, Mummy, Run

The Night the Angels Came

Happy Adults

A Baby’s Cry

Happy Mealtimes for Kids

Another Forgotten Child

Please Don’t Take My Baby

Will You Love Me?

About Writing and How to Publish

Daddy’s Little Princess

The Child Bride

Acknowledgements

A big thank-you to my family; my editor, Holly; my literary agent, Andrew; and all the team at HarperCollins.

Chapter One

Lost and Frightened

It was dark outside, and cold, at five o’clock on Tuesday, 1 February. I was expecting a six-year-old boy to arrive with his social worker at any moment. Indeed, I’d been expecting them for the last hour. Danny was coming into foster care and Jill, my support social worker, had given me some details about him over the phone two days previously. As well as being six, I knew he was an only child who had learning difficulties and challenging behaviour, which included meltdowns, tantrums and aggression, and his parents – unable to cope any longer – had approached the social services. Danny was coming into care under a ‘Section 20’, also known as accommodated or voluntary care, where the parents agree to the move and retain full legal parental rights. The hope was that Danny would eventually be able to return home.

I was in the kitchen preparing dinner. My children – Adrian, fifteen, Paula, eleven, and Lucy (soon to be adopted), thirteen – were upstairs in their bedrooms, hopefully doing their homework before they watched television or generally relaxed. As I worked I listened out for the doorbell signalling the arrival of Terri, Danny’s social worker, with little Danny. If all had gone to plan Danny’s mother would have taken some of his clothes and toys to his school at the end of the day, where she would have met with Terri, explained to Danny that he was coming into foster care and said goodbye. It would have been an emotional and upsetting parting for mother and son, but they would be seeing each other regularly. Jill was going to arrive with the placement information forms once Terri and Danny were here. However, when the telephone rang I guessed things weren’t going smoothly. Experience had taught me to expect last-minute changes, even if the move was planned, as Danny’s was.

‘I’ve just heard from Terri, Danny’s social worker,’ Jill said. ‘There’s a problem. Danny became very distressed when they told him he was coming into care, even though Terri handled it sensitively and stressed he’d be seeing his mother regularly. Apparently he kicked his mother and ran off screaming. He’s somewhere in the school grounds. Terri and the staff at the school are looking for him. Hopefully they’ve found him by now. His mother was too upset to stay and went home. Terri has asked if you can go to Danny’s school and collect him. She thinks he’ll feel a bit better once he’s met you.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll leave straight away. It should take me about fifteen minutes.’ I knew from the information Jill had already given me where Danny’s school was.

‘Thank you,’ Jill said. ‘Can you let me know when you’re home with Danny? If it’s too late for me to visit I’ll come tomorrow.’

‘All right. Will do.’

We said a quick goodbye and I hurried out of the kitchen and upstairs to where my children were. Thankfully they were old enough now to be left for short periods. When they were younger and I was called out at short notice, as a single-parent foster carer I had to take them with me, which at times was quite disruptive for them. Now, however, I knocked on each of their bedroom doors, stuck my head round and said, ‘Jill’s just telephoned. I have to collect Danny from school. Can you keep an eye on the dinner, please? I should be back in about an hour.’

They knew Danny was coming to stay and that plans in fostering could change without much notice, so their responses were: ‘Yes,’ ‘OK,’ and ‘See ya later,’ followed by a chorus of ‘Bye, Mum.’

Downstairs again, I quickly slipped on my shoes and coat and, grabbing my bag and keys, headed out the front door. I felt the adrenalin kick in and my pulse quicken as I jumped into my car and then drove in the direction of Danny’s school. Poor little mite, I thought. He went to school as usual this morning, expecting to return home to his parents at the end of day, and then his mother and a social worker arrived to tell him he’s going to live with a foster carer – a complete stranger. How devastating, especially for a child like Danny, who already had problems. Little wonder he’d run off. I hoped he’d been found and was calmer now.

I turned into Yew Road where Danny’s school was and the first thing I saw was a police car parked outside, with its lights casting a moving glow over the front of the school building and nearby houses. With a stab of fear I thought the police’s presence must have something to do with Danny. I parked in the road, a little back from the police car, and got out. His school, Yew Primary, like many in the area, had a small tarmac playground at the front and grass playing fields at the sides and rear, which were flanked by shrubs and trees. As I hurried along the pavement and then across the front playground I could see torch lights flickering over the playing fields to the right of the building and hear voices calling, ‘It’s OK, Danny! There’s nothing to be frightened of!’ and ‘Danny, are you there?’ So Danny hadn’t been found and was still out there in the cold and dark.

I went in the main door, which was no longer security locked as it would have been during the day, and then through the empty reception and into the corridor beyond. All the lights were on, but it was eerily quiet and empty. I didn’t know the building, but the layout was clear. It was single storey and I hurried along the corridor towards the door that led out to the playing fields. All the classrooms I passed were empty. School finished at 3.30 and I assumed the staff that hadn’t gone home were probably on the playing field looking for Danny. I pushed open the door at the end of the corridor and stepped outside. A security light flashed on overhead. I could see three torch beams flickering along the edges of the fields as they searched the shrubbery, and male and female voices were calling Danny’s name. Then one female voice came closer.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked, stepping out of the dark to stand beside me.

‘I’m Cathy Glass, Danny’s foster carer.’

‘Hello. I’m Terri, Danny’s social worker,’ she said. ‘Thank you for coming. It’s a nightmare. I called the police. There are two officers as well as some of the staff looking for him. The police and the caretaker have the torches, but there’s no sign of Danny. Goodness knows where he is.’ In the light of the security lamp I could see Terri looked very stressed and worried, with good reason. She was average height, mid-thirties, with short brown hair, and was dressed in a quilted winter jacket and jeans.

‘How long has he been out here?’ I asked.

‘Nearly an hour now. He has his coat on, thank goodness – or did have, when he fled. It all seemed to be going well, but when his mother began to say goodbye to him, he flipped. He kicked her and ran off crying and screaming. He’s been out here ever since.’

‘Is it possible he’s not in the school grounds?’ I asked, concerned.

‘We’ve searched the building twice,’ Terri said. ‘The police have said once we’ve finished searching the grounds, if we haven’t found him they’ll widen the search and bring in the police helicopter. He could have got out of the school grounds, but it’s unlikely. He would’ve had to scale a six-foot-high fence, which runs all around the perimeter.’

‘What can I do?’ I asked.

‘Help search,’ Terri said. ‘We’re taking it in sections. Come with me.’

I went with her across the dark, damp playing fields as torch beams flickered in the shrubbery like ghostly will-o’-the-wisps. Without a torch visibility was only a few metres, and then all you could see were shadows. I wished I’d brought a torch, but then I hadn’t known Danny was still out here. I followed Terri to a section of the perimeter where no one else was searching and we began peering in and around the bushes, all the time calling Danny’s name. ‘Danny’ echoed in the darkness behind us as the others searching also called his name. We were concentrating on any movement, sound or irregular dark shadow that could be a young boy hiding, huddled small with fear, but there was nothing. I felt a growing dread that he had managed to leave the school grounds, for I knew from experience that when a child is very distraught they can scale heights and run distances they wouldn’t be able to normally. Terri must have been thinking the same thing, for after a few minutes she turned from where she was looking and said, ‘I think we need to bring in the police helicopter now and look outside the school.’

Yet just as we turned to head back to the school, a male voice came from the far side of the playing field: ‘Found him!’

‘Thank God,’ Terri gasped.

We hurried across the dark field in the direction of the voice. The others were doing the same – those with torches had their beams pointed a little ahead, lighting their way. As we drew close to where the voice had come from I saw that it was one of the police officers who had found Danny. His torch was tucked under his arm, and he was holding Danny against his chest. All I could see of Danny was the back of his head and coat.

‘Thank you so much,’ Terri said to the officer.

‘Well done,’ his colleague said to him.

The other searchers had arrived and we formed a small circle around the officer and Danny. ‘You’re OK now, son, aren’t you?’ the officer said gently to Danny.

Danny didn’t reply. His face was buried in the officer’s jacket and his little hands, knuckle-white, gripped his lapels for all he was worth.

‘Thank goodness we found you,’ Terri said, taking a step closer to Danny.

‘Good boy,’ another female voice added.

‘We’ll go into your school now,’ the police officer holding Danny said in a calm and reassuring voice. ‘Then, if you’re all right, you can go home.’

‘To his foster home,’ Terri corrected.

Danny didn’t speak or move.

‘So you’re going to stay with a foster carer,’ the officer said, trying to reassure him ‘That’ll be nice.’

Danny didn’t say anything and remained motionless. The officer turned and began towards the school, and the rest of us followed. As we entered through the door at the rear of the building Danny chanced to peep out and I caught sight of his little round face with pale cheeks and blue eyes wide with fear.

‘Hi, love,’ I said gently. ‘I’m Cathy, your foster carer.’

He buried his head in the officer’s jacket.

Inside the school we congregated in one of the classrooms. We could see each other properly now with the lights on. Three members of staff who’d been on the field helping in the search said that now Danny had been found they’d go home. Terri thanked them and they called goodbye as they left. Then the caretaker said he’d go and start to lock up and would we let him know when we were going.

‘Thanks, Sam,’ a young woman said. Then she introduced herself to me. ‘I’m Sue Bright, Danny’s teacher.’

‘Hello. Cathy Glass, Danny’s foster carer,’ I said with a smile.

The police officer carrying Danny sat on one of the children’s school chairs while the other officer stood by the closed classroom door – possibly to stop Danny if he tried to run off again, although that didn’t seem likely. He remained very quiet and still, with his face buried in the officer’s chest so that only his mop of blond hair was visible.

‘Danny,’ Terri said, squatting down beside him. ‘Are you OK?’

Danny didn’t respond.

‘I expect you’re hungry,’ she said. ‘Cathy, your foster carer, is going to take you home in her car soon and give you a nice hot dinner. Then, when you’ve had a sleep, she’ll bring you to school tomorrow and you’ll see your mother.’

Danny remained motionless. He didn’t acknowledge that he had heard Terri or even that she was there.

‘Danny,’ his teacher, Sue, now said, stepping forwards. ‘It’s getting very late. All the other children have gone home. We’re all going home too. You are going to Cathy’s house for tonight and then we’ll see you tomorrow in school.’ She came across as very caring and had spoken to him gently, but he didn’t respond.

‘We’ve got a meeting here tomorrow at nine o’clock,’ Terri now said to me.

I nodded, more concerned with getting Danny home than a meeting in the morning.

‘Danny, time to go home with Cathy,’ Terri said, touching his hand.

Danny snatched his hand away and tucked it beneath his coat but didn’t say anything or look up. The police officer standing by the door answered his radio and we heard a female voice at the control centre ask if he and his colleague could attend an RTA (road traffic accident). The officer replied that they could, as Danny had been found safe and well. When he’d finished he joked to us: ‘That was my mum telling me dinner was ready,’ and I smiled.

‘Danny, time to go with Cathy now,’ Terri said again. ‘I’ll phone your mother and tell her you’re safe, then she’ll come to school to see you in the morning.’

Danny still didn’t move or speak. Clearly he had to come with me, so Terri lightly lifted his arm and began easing him away from the officer. Danny didn’t resist. I stepped forward ready to take him and Terri and the officer lifted Danny into my arms. As soon as his little body touched mine he wrapped his legs tightly around my waist, grabbed my coat sleeves and buried his head in my chest. I breathed a sigh of relief now that I had him safe. It was just a matter of getting him into my car and home. Some six-year-olds are quite heavy, and being of a slight build myself I would have had difficulty carrying them, but Danny was as light as a feather – too light for a child of his age, I thought.

‘We’ll see you to your car,’ said the police officer who’d been holding Danny.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘Here’s his bag,’ Terri said, passing a large canvas holdall to the officer.

‘I’ll phone your mother now,’ Terri said to Danny, staying behind. ‘See you in the morning.’

‘See you tomorrow in school,’ his teacher said to us as we began towards the classroom door.

‘Yes, see you tomorrow,’ I replied.

Danny didn’t make a sound, but his legs tightened around my waist and his fingers gripped my coat. ‘It’s going to be OK,’ I reassured him. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’

The officer standing by the classroom door held it open for me and I carried Danny out of the classroom and along the corridor. His teacher and social worker stayed behind. I would see them both at the meeting in the morning. The officers came with me and opened the main door and I stepped outside into the cold and dark again. Danny tightened his grip further and I held him close and talked to him gently, reassuring him that everything would be all right. I passed my car keys to the officer and he unlocked my car and opened the door. The officer holding Danny’s bag put it on the passenger seat and then they waited while I lifted Danny into the child’s car seat. He was still clinging desperately to me and I had to gently release his grip, all the time talking to him reassuringly. Once in the car seat he didn’t look at me but pulled his head down into his coat. I fastened his seatbelt, checked it and then straightened. The officers said goodbye to Danny before I closed the rear door.

‘Doesn’t say much, does he?’ the officer who’d been holding him remarked.

‘He’s scared stiff,’ I said. ‘Thank you for your help.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He handed me my keys and began towards the police car.

I opened the driver’s door and climbed in. Before I started the engine I turned and looked at Danny. ‘Try not to worry, love,’ I said. ‘It’s going to be all right.’

But Danny pulled his head further down into his coat, and I thought the sooner we were home the better.

Chapter Two

Meticulous

As I drove I glanced in the rear-view mirror to check if Danny was all right, but he kept his head down, buried deep in his coat, so I couldn’t see his face. I talked to him in a calm and reassuring manner, but he didn’t reply or say anything – not once. Even when I told him he’d be able to have ice cream and chocolate pudding for dessert, which would have elicited a response from most children, there was nothing from him. Nothing to say he’d even heard. I was relieved when we arrived home.

‘We’re here,’ I said to him as I pulled onto the drive.

I cut the engine, got out and walked round to the passenger side where I took Danny’s holdall from the seat and hooked it over my shoulder. I then opened Danny’s door, which was child-locked. ‘We’re here, love,’ I said again.

Danny remained silent and sat very still; he didn’t even raise his head to have a look at his new surroundings as I thought he might.

‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about.’ I released his seatbelt.

As I slipped my arms around his waist to lift him out he leapt at me, wrapping his arms tightly around my neck and his legs around my waist as he had done before. I manoeuvred him out of the car and then pushed the door shut with my foot.

‘This is my home,’ I said. ‘It’s going to be your home too, for a while.’

I carried him across the drive to the front door and went in. ‘My son and my two daughters live here too,’ I said as I closed the door. ‘They’re looking forward to playing with you.’

Nothing. Danny clung to me in desperation, his head in my shoulder. I set his holdall on the floor, then lowered him into the chair by the telephone table. His arms and legs were still wrapped around me, so I had to gently release them.

‘Let’s take off our coats and shoes and then we’ll have something to eat,’ I said. I could smell the casserole I’d left in the oven and I hoped one of the children had remembered to switch it off.

Danny was sitting where I’d put him on the chair, motionless and with his chin pressed into his chest. I was starting to find his silence and complete lack of reaction to anything I said worrying. I knew from Jill that there were concerns about his language skills and general learning development, but there’d been no mention of deafness. Danny’s prolonged silence and indifference to the noises around him suggested a child who couldn’t hear. He wouldn’t be the first child I’d fostered who had hearing loss – either from birth or as a result of a trauma to the head – that hadn’t been diagnosed.

I took off my shoes and hung my coat on the hall stand. Then I began undoing the zipper on Danny’s coat, but as I did so he suddenly pulled back and hugged his coat tightly to him, clearly not wanting to take it off. ‘Are you cold?’ I asked him. He didn’t feel cold and the car had been very warm. He didn’t reply but clutched his coat to him as if for protection. ‘OK, let’s take off your shoes first then,’ I said easily.

I knelt down and unstuck the Velcro first from one shoe and then the other, and slid them off. Danny didn’t object, and I paired his shoes with ours beneath the coat stand. ‘We’ll leave your shoes here, ready for morning,’ I explained, but he didn’t respond.

Danny’s shoes, coat and what I could see of his school uniform beneath his coat appeared to be quite new and of good quality, unlike many of the children I’d fostered, who’d arrived in rags and with their toes poking through worn-out trainers. I now made another attempt to take off his coat, but he clung to it.