Too Scared to Tell

‘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.

‘OK, just sit at the table for a minute and do a puzzle,’ I said. ‘I have to make a phone call. I won’t be long. I’ll be in the hall.’ I took some puzzles from the toy cupboard and placed them on the table. I needed to tell Oskar’s social worker what he’d said, for I felt sure Andrew would have told me if he was aware Oskar had a brother. It was important he knew as soon as possible, as it’s generally felt that if one child in a family is at risk of harm then other siblings could be too, so normally it’s investigated as a matter of urgency.

Andrew answered straight away. ‘It’s Cathy Glass, Oskar’s carer.’

‘Hello, I was going to phone you to arrange to see you tomorrow. Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, Oskar had his medical. But I thought you should know, he’s just told me he has a brother, Luka, aged twelve, apparently living with an aunt, I’m not sure where.’

‘Yes, I’ve only just found out. I managed to speak to his mother this afternoon and she is with Luka now in —’ He named the country they originally came from. ‘Sorry, I’m in a hurry now, I’ve got to place a child with carers. Can I visit you and Oskar tomorrow after school? I’ll explain then.’

‘Yes, we’ll be home by four o’clock.’

‘Thank you.’

He said a quick goodbye and I returned to the kitchen-diner to find Oskar at the table doing the puzzle, but he had moved seats, so he was now sitting next to where Lucy sat at meal times, rather than Adrian. I didn’t say anything; it didn’t matter. I praised him for doing the puzzle nicely, then set about making dinner for when everyone came home. I could see Oskar seated at the table from where I worked in the kitchen, and every so often he glanced at me, then he asked in a small voice, ‘Can I sit here?’

‘Yes, if you want to. Don’t you want to sit next to Adrian?’ Most boys we fostered thought it was a huge privilege to sit next to Adrian and spend time with him. Often, they bonded with him first. Adrian was tall like his father, but gentle, sensitive, patient and a good role model for boys. His long-term girlfriend Kirsty was lovely too and worked as a primary school teacher.

Oskar hadn’t replied, so I continued to prepare dinner and then laid the table. Paula was in first and I explained to her that Oskar would prefer to sit in her place next to Lucy, and of course she didn’t mind and was happy to sit anywhere. We all had dinner together shortly after six o’clock and Oskar enjoyed the spaghetti bolognaise, although I noticed him occasionally stealing glances at Adrian as we ate. Once we’d finished, I listened to Oskar read his school book – his teacher expected him to read each evening – while Adrian, Lucy and Paula did their own thing. After he’d read, I asked him if he wanted to play a board game, but he didn’t, so I read him some stories and then began his bath and bedtime routine.

Oskar was still very quiet, but I hoped that as the days passed and he got to know us better he would become more confident and assertive. Upstairs, I ran his bath and told him that I would wait outside the door while he washed and to call me if he needed any help. Most children his age aren’t self-conscious about being naked and I often help them in the bath by washing their necks and backs, which tend to get forgotten. Oskar clearly needed his privacy for whatever reason – and that might simply have been from living in a multiple-occupancy house where, doubtless, it was at a premium.

Oskar pushed the bathroom door right to before he undressed. I heard the water stir as he climbed into the bath and began washing himself.

‘Are you OK?’ I asked after a couple of minutes.

‘Yes, don’t come in,’ was his reply.

‘I won’t.’

I heard more water splash and, a few minutes later, the sound of him getting out. When he opened the door, he was in his new dinosaur pyjamas.

‘Very smart,’ I said. I waited while he brushed his teeth and then we went round the landing to his bedroom. ‘Do you want Luka, your teddy bear?’ I asked him. He’d left it downstairs.

‘Yes,’ he said. While he used the toilet, I went downstairs and fetched the bear, and he snuggled into bed with it beside him on the pillow.

I said goodnight and came out.

Who knew what memories that bear brought back now it was named after his brother? There was so much I didn’t know about Oskar and his family situation. I had many questions that needed answering, and I hoped to learn more the following afternoon when Andrew visited. So often in fostering, a child arrives and then their backstory gradually follows, unfolding piecemeal over weeks and months, until eventually a clearer picture emerges, and it’s often heart-breaking. Many of these children have had to cope with so much before they come into care.

Oskar slept well, and in the morning, when I woke him and told him it was time to get ready for school, I thought he seemed marginally more relaxed. I laid out his clean school clothes and waited outside his bedroom door while he dressed, then we went downstairs together. He sat in the place he had chosen next to Lucy and wanted one of the sourdough rolls we’d bought, with a cheese and ham filling and a glass of juice. Afterwards, he went up to the bathroom by himself to wash his face and clean his teeth.

I was feeling quite optimistic as I drove to Oskar’s school. The sun was out, Oskar seemed slightly more relaxed, we were establishing a routine and Oskar’s social worker was vising us this afternoon with the background information that should help me better meet Oskar’s needs. While not talkative in the car, Oskar did tell me he liked going to school, liked his teacher and science lessons. ‘Excellent,’ I said.

I parked where there was a space a little way from the school and opened Oskar’s car door, which was child-locked. He slipped his hand into mine and we walked along the pavement towards the school gates. Suddenly I felt his hand grip mine and I followed his gaze. The black car was pulling up and parking on the opposite side of the road. There was no mistake. It was the same car with the two men in the front.

‘You know those men, don’t you?’ I asked Oskar. He had quickened his pace towards the school gates, pulling me along, but didn’t reply. ‘Who are they? Can you tell me? You’re obviously worried.’

He continued, without answering, into the playground where others were waiting for the start of school. Oskar kept his back to the road and faced the school, while I turned to look at the car. It was too far away to clearly make out the features of the men, but I could see they were both staring in our direction.

‘Is it nearly time to go in?’ Oskar asked me anxiously.

I glanced at my watch. ‘Just a few minutes more. Do you ever see that car parked outside the school during playtime?’ I asked him. At morning break and after lunch the children played out here in the playground.

He didn’t reply, but his face was pinched and white.

I hesitated and then, taking Oskar’s hand, I said, ‘We’ll go into school now. I want to try to speak to your teacher.’ He didn’t ask why.

I took him to the main door, where I pressed the buzzer and waited to be admitted. I thought Miss Jordan might know who the men were, and if she didn’t, I would alert her to my concerns.

The door released and we went in. A smartly dressed middle-aged woman was in reception, apparently having been talking to the secretary. She smiled at Oskar. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked me.

‘I was hoping to see Miss Jordan,’ I said. ‘I’m Cathy Glass, Oskar’s foster carer.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said, offering her hand for shaking. ‘I’m Elaine Summer, the Head Teacher here. We didn’t have a chance to meet when you collected Oskar on Tuesday. How is he?’

‘Quiet, but gradually settling in,’ I said.

‘Miss Jordan is with a parent right now. Can I help you?’

I glanced at Oskar, wondering if I should say what I had to in front of him, but decided it might actually help to reassure him. ‘There’s a black car parked opposite the school,’ I said. ‘It was there on Tuesday and yesterday morning. There are two men in it, and they seem to be watching us. Oskar appears worried by their presence and I was wondering if Miss Jordan perhaps knew who they were.’

‘Let me take a look,’ the Head said decisively, and she crossed to the window that looked out over the playground. ‘Yes, I can see the car you mean.’

‘I’ve seen it there this week too,’ the school secretary said. Her office overlooked the playground and road.

‘It might be nothing, but as a foster carer I can’t be too careful,’ I said.

‘No, quite,’ the Head agreed. ‘As a school we have to be vigilant. I’ll go and talk to them and see what they want.’

I felt Oskar’s hand tighten in mine and I wondered if it was wise for the Head to approach the men alone, but she was already out of the door and crossing the playground. The secretary was watching her progress too as Elaine Summer went through the main gate, crossed the road, then went up to the car and tapped on the driver’s window. It lowered and as we watched we saw her talking to the men for some minutes. Then she turned and headed back, and the car pulled away. The school secretary returned to her work and the Head came in. She wasn’t at all flustered.

‘They’re saying they are family friends and know Oskar,’ she said. Then to him, ‘Do you know those men?’

He gave a small nod.

‘Do they live in the same house as you?’

Another small nod.

‘They were just making sure you were all right,’ she told him, then addressing me, ‘I’ve asked them not to wait outside the school, as it could be unsettling for Oskar. I’ve had to deal with similar situations with other children in care and those whose parents are divorcing. They wait outside, hoping to see their child or talk to them. That should be an end to it now, but if you do see them again, let me know.’ She threw Oskar a reassuring smile, but he still looked worried.

The klaxon sounded for the start of school and the Head told Oskar, ‘There’s no need for you to return to the playground, you can go straight up to your classroom.’

I said goodbye to him and that I would meet him in the playground at the end of school and wished him a good day. He went off to his classroom and I let myself out of the building. I was not wholly reassured by the Head’s words, no more than Oskar appeared to have been. If the two men were simply family friends wanting to make sure he was all right, why had he been so scared? It didn’t make sense.

Chapter Six

Wary

The rest of the day flew by with housework, my part-time clerical work and then preparing dinner for later, which I tried to do well in advance if there was a social worker visiting us after school. They often stayed for a number of hours, especially when a child was first placed, as there was always a lot to get through. I made a casserole, so it just needed popping in the oven half an hour before we wanted to eat. I messaged our Glass WhatsApp group to remind Adrian, Paula and Lucy that Oskar’s social worker was likely to still be here when they arrived home. Although they were used to finding strangers in our living room, I liked to forewarn them when possible, out of courtesy, really – it was their home, after all. Also, it minimized the chance of Lucy embarrassing herself with expletives if she returned home from a trying day at work. She loved working with the children at the nursery, but she didn’t always see eye to eye with the management and tended to let off steam when she first arrived home.

That afternoon as I drove to Oskar’s school, it crossed my mind that the men in the black car could be there again despite the Head Teacher speaking to them. But as I parked in my usual place a little way from the school and made my way towards the main gate there was no sign of them. Hopefully that was the end of it, although I was still puzzled and unsettled by their interest in Oskar.

The playground slowly filled with parents and carers waiting to meet their children from school. Miss Jordan had told me that Oskar had one good friend in school, and once he was more settled with us I would ask him if he would like to invite his friend home on a play date and to stay for tea. But for now, he was still adjusting to his new life with us.

The klaxon sounded from inside, signalling the end of school, and the classes began to exit the building with their form teachers. I saw Oskar straight away, standing beside Miss Jordan, and they appeared to be looking for me in the sea of faces. I gave a little wave. Miss Jordan spotted me, said something to Oskar and they came over.

‘Hello,’ she said with a smile. ‘Elaine told me about the car and she asked me to check everything is OK.’ She looked past me to the road outside. Oskar was looking too.

‘It’s not here,’ I confirmed. ‘Thank you for your help and thanks to the Head too.’

‘You’re welcome. I’m sure it’s dealt with, but let us know straight away if you are worried at all. I’ve told Oskar that he is safe in school and he must tell me if he sees the car again.’

‘Thank you,’ I said again. She was so caring and pleasant, as was the Head.

We said goodbye and Oskar slipped his hand into mine as we left the playground. Despite my assurance that the car wasn’t there, I saw him looking up and down the road as we walked. ‘It’s not here,’ I told him. ‘I’ve checked.’

He didn’t reply, but again I wondered why he was so worried if they were really friends of the family watching out for him. I would mention it to his social worker.

‘Andrew is coming to see us after school today,’ I told him as I opened the rear car door for him to get in. Oskar accepted this as he accepted most things – resolutely and in silence. ‘He will want to spend some time talking to you to make sure you’re all right,’ I continued as I started the car and pulled away. ‘Then you will probably be able to go off and play while he talks to me.’ This was the usual format of these visits, although so far Oskar hadn’t really shown much interest in ‘playing’. He’d done a jigsaw while I’d been talking on the telephone, but that was all. ‘Do you watch television at home?’ I asked him as I drove.

‘Sometimes,’ he said.

‘If you tell me what your favourite programmes are, I can stream them so you can watch them on the television or my tablet.’ He didn’t reply, so I asked, ‘What do you usually do in the evenings and at weekends?’

He thought for a moment and then said, ‘Get in my sleeping bag.’

I glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. ‘You mean like a camping sleeping bag?’

Silence and then, ‘I think so.’

‘Do you sleep in the sleeping bag at night or just use it during the day?’ Perhaps it was a game he played?

Another pause and then he said, ‘Both. I sleep in it.’

‘So you don’t sleep under a duvet like you do at my house?’ I asked.

I saw him shake his head and start to look worried. However, before I let the matter drop, I had one last question.

‘Oskar, do you sleep in a bed at your house?’

‘No. On the floor with the others.’

‘What others?’

But he’d withdrawn into his shell again and I made a mental note to mention this to his social worker too.

Once home, I fixed Oskar a drink and a snack to see him through till dinner. He wanted a bread roll and a banana with a glass of water. While he sat at the table eating, I set some toys in the living room together with my fostering folder, which contained my log notes, so I was ready for when Andrew arrived. I joined Oskar at the table with a mug of tea. Andrew knew we would be home by four o’clock and it was 4.30 now, so I was expecting him any time.

Oskar had just finished his snack when the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be your social worker,’ I said, standing.

He scrambled from his chair and, taking my hand, came with me to answer the front door.

‘Hello,’ Andrew said with a smile. ‘How are you both?’

‘Very well, thank you,’ I replied.

‘Shall I take off my shoes?’ he asked, coming in and seeing ours paired in the hall.

‘Yes, please, if you don’t mind.’ For hygiene and comfort we always take off our shoes when coming into the house, as do my extended family and friends, but some professionals don’t, they march straight in, effectively using our carpets as a doormat. I find it disrespectful, although I rarely say anything.

‘Would you like a drink?’ I asked Andrew.

‘Coffee, please.’

I showed him into the living room. Oskar was still holding my hand, so I gently eased it free and directed him to sit on the sofa. ‘You can talk to Andrew while I make him a coffee,’ I said. It was important Oskar got to know his social worker. ‘Milk and sugar?’ I asked Andrew.

‘Just milk, please.’

I left the two of them sitting on the sofa while I went into the kitchen. Sammy came in through the cat flap, ignored me and went into the living room to see who was there. I heard him meow and then Andrew asked Oskar what the cat was called. ‘Sammy,’ Oskar replied. ‘I’m allowed to feed him sometimes.’

I returned to the living room with Andrew’s coffee, set it on the table within his reach and asked him if he wanted to speak to Oskar alone. It’s usual for the social worker to spend some time alone with the child in case the child wants to raise something they don’t feel comfortable saying in front of the foster carer. It’s a strange feeling, being shut out in your own home, aware you are probably being talked about, but it’s something foster carers have to get used to.

‘You can stay for now,’ Andrew said. ‘Then I’ll see Oskar alone later.’ He took a sip of his coffee and I sat in one of the easy chairs opposite them, my fostering folder beside me, although many of the issues I needed to raise wouldn’t be in front of Oskar.

‘How are you settling in?’ Andrew asked Oskar. Setting down his cup, he took a notepad and pen from his briefcase.

‘OK,’ Oskar said with his characteristic small shrug.

‘Do you like having your own room?’ Andrew asked, turning slightly so he could see him better.

‘Yes,’ Oskar said in a slight voice.

‘I’ll have a look at your bedroom before I leave,’ Andrew said. ‘Do you sleep well?’

Oskar shrugged.

‘Surprisingly well so far,’ I said.

‘Good.’ He made a note. ‘What time does he go to bed?’

‘We start his bath and bedtime routine at around seven o’clock, so he is usually asleep by eight. I wake him at seven to get ready for school.’ Andrew was making notes. The social worker usually wanted to know the child’s routine.

‘And what about meals?’ he asked Oskar. ‘Do you have meals with the family?’

Oskar looked a bit unsure, so I said, ‘We all have dinner together in the evening.’

‘Are you having what you like to eat?’ Andrew now asked him.

Oskar gave a small nod.

‘He’s eating well,’ I said. ‘He chose some rolls yesterday that he liked and he’s been having those for breakfast. It would be useful to know what he eats at home with his mother and his likes and dislikes.’

Andrew wrote as he said, ‘When his mother returns, I’ll ask her.’