Nobody’s Son by Cathy Glass
Leaving Adrian with Paula in the living room, I went upstairs to Alex’s room. He was lying face down on the bed, his little body shaking as he wept into the pillow.
‘Alex, love,’ I said gently. I sat on the edge of the bed.
‘Leave me alone. I don’t like you or Adrian any more,’ he sobbed. ‘I hate you all.’
I placed my hand lightly on his shoulder. ‘Alex, I understand you’re upset, but it’s not really about Adrian or me, is it, love? It’s about other things that have happened.’
‘Go away. I don’t need you. Or Rosemary or Edward or James. I’m going to run away and live by myself. I don’t need any one. You’re all horrible.’
I didn’t take it personally – he was upset. ‘Alex, we all need someone. I understand you’re hurting, but I want to help you.’
‘No, you don’t,’ he sobbed. ‘No one does. I’m leaving.’ Then as quick as a flash he was off the bed and out of the door. I went after him but he was halfway down the stairs. By the time I reached the hall he was at the front door, trying to open it. I flicked the lock down and put my arms around his shoulders and turned him towards me.
‘Get off!’ he cried through his tears, trying to push me away. ‘I’m leaving. I’m running away.’
‘No, you’re not, love,’ I said evenly, holding him close. ‘I want you to stay here with me.’ I held him as he pushed against me. I wasn’t going to let him go for fear he could unlock the door and run off, but also beneath his anger and tears was a frail child in desperate need of comforting and reassuring arms.
‘I hate you! I hate everyone!’ he cried. He struggled some more and then collapsed against me, crying.
Adrian and Paula appeared at the other end of the hall looking very worried. ‘It’s OK,’ I said to them. ‘Alex will be all right soon. Adrian, could you look after Paula while I talk to Alex?’
He nodded and, taking Paula’s hand, returned with her to the living room. ‘Thank you, good boy,’ I called after him.
Alex was still collapsed against me, crying quietly. ‘It’s going to be all right,’ I told him, holding him close. ‘Let’s go and sit down.’
I kept my arm around him and guided him into the front room, flicking on the light as we went. I sat on the easy chair and took him onto my lap. He didn’t resist – his anger had subsided now. I cradled him in my lap and soothed his head. He relaxed against me and presently his tears stopped. I wiped his cheeks with a tissue and then we continued to sit in silence. Sometimes a hug can say far more than words – at any age. In the distance I could hear Adrian’s voice drift in from the living room as he read Paula a story.
After a few moments and without raising his head Alex said quietly, ‘I’m very sad, Cathy.’
‘I know, love. About Rosemary and Edward?’
‘And other stuff.’
‘Like what?’ I asked gently, holding him close. ‘Can you tell me?’
‘My life,’ he said. ‘It hasn’t been a good life for me.’ Tears immediately stung my eyes. To hear a seven-year-old, who should have been full of joy and not have a care in the world, say his life hadn’t been good touched me deeply. I drew him even closer.
‘I want to help you get over this sad time,’ I said quietly, stroking his hair. ‘So the rest of your life is good.’
‘It’s not possible.’
‘Why?’
‘You can’t give me what I want. The kids at school all have proper families with mums and dads and brothers and sisters, but I don’t. I never have and I won’t now. I thought I was going to have a family with Rosemary, Edward and James, but they didn’t want me in the end. No one does. I’m nobody’s brother or son.’
My eyes filled again. ‘I want you,’ I said. ‘And while you are here with me you will be my son, and Adrian and Paula’s brother.’
‘But that won’t last,’ Alex said. ‘Debbie told me she’s going to look for another foster family for me. That’s why I got angry.’
I obviously couldn’t lie to him. ‘I know, love, but that might take many months. They’ll need to be sure they find you the right family this time. So while they’re looking you’ll be here and I will think of you as my son. I’ll try to make you as happy as I can. So will Adrian and Paula. We all like you lots, Alex. Adrian and Paula have told me how much they like you. And on Saturday you are going to meet my parents. They’re looking forward to meeting you.’ I was drawing on all the positives I could think of to try to build up his confidence and ease his pain. I couldn’t change his past or the plans for his future, but helping him to live in the present and enjoy the little things in life – of which there are many – might comfort him a little.
‘Perhaps my real mummy will have me back,’ Alex said after a moment. I swallowed hard.
‘Your mummy loves you, pet, but she can’t look after you. That’s why you had to come into care.’
‘I know, Debbie said, but can I see her again?’
The answer would be no. Alex’s contact with his mother had been terminated in preparation for him being adopted (after a judge had ruled that his mother could never look after him). Although the adoption had failed, it didn’t mean he could see her again. Cruel though this sounds, to have reinstated contact would have given Alex (and his mother) mixed and confusing messages. Alex would very likely now be in care until he was eighteen.
‘It’s not my decision, love,’ I said gently. ‘What did Debbie tell you?’
He sank against me, only too aware of her response. ‘My mummy can send me birthday cards, but that’s all. I had to say goodbye to her at the contact centre. She was very upset and we both cried.’ It was at times like this that I felt guilty for being part of the social care system that separated families, although I knew that the judge would have made the decision that Alex couldn’t live with his mother for very good reasons.
‘Can I go to bed now?’ he suddenly asked, looking up at me.
‘Yes, of course, love. You’ll feel a bit better in the morning after a good night’s sleep. And the next day you’ll feel better still, and then the next, until one morning the old Alex will be back and you’ll leap out of bed full of laughter and fun, just as you used to. It will take time, but you will get over this.’ I gave him a final hug and he eased himself from my lap.
‘I’m just going to take Alex up to bed,’ I called to Adrian and Paula from the hall.
‘All right, Mum,’ Adrian replied. ‘I’m looking after Paula.’
‘I don’t need looking after. I’m a big girl,’ I heard Paula say.
‘Yes, you do, love,’ I returned from the stairs as I took Alex up.
Alex was already in his pyjamas and had had his bath, so I waited on the landing while he used the toilet, then I saw him into bed. He snuggled his face against his soft toy penguin and I tucked them both in. Alex looked sad but also very tired, so I hoped that, as I’d told him, a good night’s sleep (and the fact that he was now talking about his worries) would set him on the path to recovery. Reminding him to call me in the night if he needed me, I kissed his forehead and came out. Downstairs, I spent some time sitting with Adrian and Paula, explaining why Alex was likely to be upset for a while yet and that we had to make allowances for his behaviour.
‘I will,’ Adrian said.
‘Good boy.’
While Paula said, ‘I’m a big girl. I’m going to bed after Alex tonight.’
‘Yes, just for tonight,’ I said with a smile.
Alex had a nightmare that night. I heard him call out and I was immediately out of bed and throwing on my dressing gown. I went straight to his room. He was lying on his back, eyes closed, tossing and turning and calling out in his sleep. ‘I’m not saying goodbye. No! I’m not leaving. You can’t make me.’ No prizes for guessing where that had come from: Alex had spent most of his short life saying goodbye to families. I sat on his bed, stroked his forehead and reassured him that he was safe and everything would be all right. He didn’t wake fully and once he was in a deep sleep
On Friday there was another incident at school. Miss Cork came to find me in the playground at the end of the day and said that during afternoon playtime a boy in another class who lived on the same estate as Alex’s mother had asked Alex where his mother was. While keeping a looked-after child at the same school offers continuity, the downside is that this type of question can arise as children in the area know the birth family. Embarrassed, upset and unable to answer the boy’s question, Alex had run off to the school gate, which was high and locked. But he spotted an escape route, and before the playground supervisor had a chance to intervene Alex had scaled the lower trunk of one of the nearby trees and was crawling across an overhanging branch that bridged the gap to the gate. It was then he realized that if he climbed over the gate there was a very long drop on the other side. The playground supervisor rushed over and persuaded him to come down – in fact, there was nowhere else he could go. She and Miss Cork talked to Alex about the danger of what he’d done. Miss Cork also told me that the caretaker had been informed and he would be cutting back any overhanging branches during the half-term holiday. I thanked her, apologized for all the worry Alex had caused them and, wishing each other a good half term, we said goodbye.
‘That was a dangerous thing to do,’ I said to Alex as we walked to the car. ‘If you’d fallen you would have been badly hurt.’
He shrugged. ‘Don’t care.’
‘Where were you thinking of going if you had got out?’
‘Somewhere by myself,’ he said sullenly. I had been expecting him to say home, to my mum, which is what most children in care would have said, so I thought that deep down Alex knew that living with his mother wasn’t an option.
The school had dealt with the matter, so I didn’t labour the point. I asked him what he’d like to do over the half-term holiday. He shrugged.
‘I’d like to go to the park,’ Paula said, slipping her hand into Alex’s.
‘Yes, we can do that if the weather is fine,’ I said. ‘I was also thinking of going to the cinema and an indoor activity centre.’
‘Oh yes,’ Paula said, giving a little skip of delight.
‘Would you like to go there, Alex?’ He managed a small nod. ‘Excellent,’ I said.
When I collected Adrian from school he was pleased to be breaking up for the week, as indeed I was. Most foster carers welcome the break from the school routine with its long school runs, so that they can spend more time with the children and go on outings and similar. Alex slept well that night, but the following day didn’t get off to a good start and the visit to my parents wasn’t the success I’d hoped for. The children I foster usually take to my parents, and very quickly call them Nana and Grandpa. Perhaps it was asking too much of Alex, who’d not long ago met James’s grandparents and then had his hope of a family dashed. Before we left the house that morning Alex said he didn’t want to go to see Nana and Grandpa, but I chivvied him along and said he’d have a lovely time. There wasn’t really an alternative. I couldn’t ask someone to babysit him at such short notice on a Saturday, and I wasn’t going to cancel our visit, as Adrian, Paula and my parents would be very disappointed. I always take a child’s wishes into account where possible, but this was one of those occasions when he would have to go along with what I’d planned. I was sure that once he got there he’d feel differently.
Mum and Dad welcomed Alex warmly, as they did all the children I fostered. While Alex wasn’t rude to them, he remained quiet and separate – distant from us, despite our best efforts to include him. He sat with us at the table and ate a little but didn’t join in with the conversation or smile. Then after lunch we went for a walk in the country not far away and we took food for the ducks on the river. Alex maintained his distance and didn’t want to feed the ducks. I watched him carefully, as the river was deep and there was no railing between us and the water. My father thought that Alex might be nervous of the ducks and encouraged him to feed them by saying, ‘Come on, lad, stand by me, they won’t hurt you.’
‘I know they won’t,’ Alex said moodily. Then he suddenly darted off – up the path that ran alongside the riverbank and around the corner. Leaving my parents looking after Adrian and Paula, I dashed after him and caught up around the bend. I held his arm.
‘Alex! You mustn’t run off here,’ I said very firmly. ‘It’s dangerous. That river is deep. You could drown.’ It had given me a shock and I think he could see that. ‘Now take hold of my hand and we’ll go back to Nana and Grandpa. They’ll be worried about you.’
‘I’m not going back,’ he said. ‘I don’t like your nana and grandpa. They stink.’
Despite my fright I had to stifle a smile. ‘I’m sure they don’t stink,’ I said lightly. ‘They shower every day. But we’re going back, Alex. You don’t have to feed the ducks if you don’t want to. Grandpa was only being kind.’
He shook his head.
‘Alex, you can’t stay here by yourself, so you have two choices. You can either hold my hand like a big boy and we’ll walk back together, or I’ll carry you like a baby. What’s it to be? Either way, you’re coming with me.’ Just as well he was slightly built, I thought. I could carry him if necessary. I waited. He stood for a moment and then snatched my hand, and we returned to our little group.
The rest of the day passed in much the same manner, with Alex there on the edge of activities and conversation but not really joining in.
‘He’ll be better the next time he meets us,’ Mum said to me as we prepared to leave. ‘He won’t be so shy.’ I nodded, but I doubted that Alex keeping his distance and not wanting to relate to my parents had anything to do with shyness. It was more about Alex protecting himself. If you knew for certain that in a few months’ time you were going to have to leave, what would be the point in bonding with a set of grandparents you would never see again? I doubt I would have.
Chapter Fifteen
An Eerie Noise Outside
On Sunday Adrian and Paula went out with their father for the day, so I was able to give Alex my complete attention, which I hoped would be positive for him. We began by finishing his school work and then I asked him what he would like to do. He shrugged.
‘We can stay in or go out somewhere?’ I suggested. It was chilly but dry.
He shrugged again.
‘We could play a few board games, then after lunch we could take your bike to the park?’
‘I guess so,’ he said, meeting any suggestion from me with the same lack of enthusiasm he now showed for everything.
Alex played the various games I produced, ate his lunch and then rode his bike in the park without really engaging with me at all, or showing any enjoyment for what he was doing. I was starting to wonder if he was depressed. Children, like adults, can suffer from depression, and I would make a note of my concerns in my log and also tell his social worker. Debbie had said she was going to refer Alex to CAMHS but that there was a long waiting list. Perhaps his appointment could be brought forward? I’d ask.
It was mid-afternoon when we returned home from the park. I was still attempting to make conversation with Alex but receiving little or no response. I carried his bike through the house and out to the patio, then Alex wheeled it to the shed at the bottom of the garden where I put it away. When I came out of the shed Alex was nowhere to be seen, so I assumed he’d gone indoors. The sun had gone and the temperature was dropping quickly now. I entered the house through the back door and called his name, but there was no reply. Clearly he hadn’t heard me, so after slipping off my coat and leaving it on the hall stand I went from room to room, looking for him and calling his name. I continued upstairs and looked in all the bedrooms, the bathroom and toilet. If he was hiding, this wasn’t funny any more. Then a horrendous thought struck me and I ran downstairs to the coat stand. His coat wasn’t there! Opening the front door I ran out onto the pavement, where I frantically scanned up and down the street. It curved out of view but surely he hadn’t got that far?
‘Alex! Whatever are you doing in there? Come out at once.’ He was crouched low and almost completely hidden in the middle of the evergreen shrubs in the front garden. I was annoyed and relieved at the same time. ‘You scared me silly. Come out now.’
He stood, unfazed and expressionless, and then made his way out, his shoes caked in mud and dry leaves, and twigs clinging to his trousers.
‘That was naughty,’ I said. ‘Don’t you ever do that again! I was worried sick. You’ve lost half an hour of your television tonight.’
Alex wasn’t bothered, and of course he had wanted to worry me. He’d been hurt and now he wanted to hurt others. This act of rebellion had proved effective and had elicited the response he sought.
He didn’t say anything as we went in and he took off his shoes and coat. I thought it wouldn’t be long before he tried running off again – this was the second episode – and I put the latch down on the front door. Foster carers aren’t allowed to lock a child in the house in case there is an emergency, so I couldn’t Chubb lock the front door and remove the key. Alex could reach the latch if necessary, but it would buy me extra time if he tried to run off again. The back garden was secure with a fence and padlocked side gate, not that he’d be playing in the garden in winter. I tried talking to him, explaining that he needed to share his worries with me rather than running away, and he gave a desultory nod, which said he agreed to nothing.
Adrian and Paula arrived home at 5.30 eager to tell me all about the fun day out they’d had with their father, so once they’d said goodbye to John we went into the living room to chat. Alex was in the room too to begin with but then quietly stood and left. ‘Are you OK?’ I called after him.
‘I’m going to play in my room,’ he said. Which he did sometimes, so I thought nothing more about it. He’d had my attention all day and it was Adrian’s and Paula’s turn now.