Authors: Cathy Glass
‘I’m going to speak to my solicitor,’ she said, and hung up.
Two hours later Reva telephoned again. This time she was subdued and, I guessed, had had a good cry, for she sounded fragile.
‘Sorry for speaking to you like that,’ she began quietly. ‘It’s not like me. I was upset.’
‘It’s all right. I understand.’
‘Our solicitor has spoken to Terri,’ she said. ‘And I’ve agreed to leave Danny in care for now, but I’m having extra contact next week. It’s half-term holiday, so he won’t be in school. I’m going to have him Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from twelve till six. Terri said to tell you.’
I thought it would have been nice to be asked – either by Terri or Reva – if this fitted in with my arrangements, but as a foster carer I’d become used to having arrangements changed, sometimes at the last moment, and then having to fit in with them.
‘Richard doesn’t know that I’ve agreed to this yet,’ Reva said. ‘He’s in a meeting, so I’ve left a message on his voicemail. He won’t be pleased Danny is still in care and we have to answer to Terri. He’ll probably blame me, but I’m used to that. The solicitor said it was the best he could do for now.’ I guessed that somewhere in the discussion the solicitor had ‘done a deal’ with Terri: extra contact in exchange for Danny staying in voluntary care under a Section 20. The social services wouldn’t want to apply for a court order unless there was no alternative. It’s costly, time-consuming and leaves the parents feeling impotent and embittered. Care Orders are only used as a last resort.
Reva apologized again for her rudeness earlier and then said she’d see me at ten o’clock the following morning for Saturday contact. Before she said goodbye she added, ‘And I’ve agreed to see my doctor about my drinking.’ So I guessed that had also been raised by Terri.
That evening I served chicken nuggets, chips and baked beans for dinner. It was the end of the week and having processed food occasionally doesn’t do anyone any harm. Everyone enjoyed it and it was a relatively easy meal for Danny to eat – he cut the chips and chicken nuggets in half, arranged the pieces around his plate and then ate them in colour order, chicken first, chips and then the baked beans. After dinner we did a little of his homework and then I began his bath and bedtime routine, which still took about an hour and a half. I tipped his bath toys into the water as I usually did, but he took them all out again except for the dinghy and the diving man, which he played with continuously while I washed his hair, throwing the diver into the water, holding him under and then saving him. The time the toy diver spent under the water grew longer and longer, and as Danny held him under he chanted, ‘Drowning, drowning, drowning.’ His face was creased in anguish, as though empathizing with someone drowning. What with this and the way he often threw himself back in the bath and stayed under the water, he seemed rather obsessed with drowning. It crossed my mind that possibly this was how Danny felt – as though he was drowning. We often refer to drowning metaphorically when were are unable to cope – drowning in sorrow, regret, too much work. Was Danny drowning in everyday life?
‘Save the diver,’ I encouraged Danny, which he did. Only to hold him under the water again.
On Saturday morning I dropped Danny off at his house for the day and then returned home to collect Adrian, Lucy and Paula, who had forgone their lie-in and were dressed, ready to visit Nana and Grandpa. I’d suggested the visit to them the evening before and they’d jumped at the chance. It was only a short visit as I had to be home in plenty of time for when Danny was returned, but we had a very pleasant and relaxing few hours with my parents, although I think we all felt someone was missing. Mum said a few times she hoped it wouldn’t be long before Danny could visit her and Grandpa too, as our other foster children had done.
When Reva returned Danny that evening she seemed reserved and a little standoffish with me. She didn’t want to come in, although the night was cold, and called a quick goodbye to Danny from the doorstep. He went straight through the house to see George. I asked Reva if she’d had a good day, and she replied, ‘Pleasant enough, thank you.’
‘And how was Danny?’ I asked.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you on Tuesday. I’ll collect him and bring him back to you.’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
She said a rather curt goodbye, turned and left. I had the feeling I’d just been assigned to ‘them’ in a ‘them and us’ situation, putting me on the side of the social services. It was a pity when this happened, as it made working with the parents more difficult, when we should have all been working together for the good of the child.
As soon as I woke on Sunday morning, even before I’d opened the curtains, I knew we’d had some snow in the night. That glow, the unusual stillness, the muted sound, all suggesting nature had cast its magical white cloak. There wasn’t much snow – about an inch – but any snow is exciting when it’s a relatively rare occurrence. When the children woke, Adrian, Lucy and Paula were as enchanted by it as I was, but Danny seemed bemused, not only by the snow but our excited reaction to it. Toscha was unsure and gingerly tiptoed around the edge of the patio, past the patio doors where Danny and I were looking out. I explained to Danny very simply what snow was – frozen rain.
‘Frozen rain,’ he repeated.
‘I wonder what George will make of the snow when you take him for a walk later,’ I said. But the sentence was too complicated and Danny looked blank. ‘You can take George in the snow later,’ I said.
‘George in the snow later,’ he echoed, no less bemused.
As there wasn’t enough snow to make a snowman I suggested we walk to our local park where we could feed the ducks, who were always hungry in winter, and make footprints in the snow while it was fresh. We’d done this in previous winters and it was fun, especially seeing the ducks trying to walk on the icy pond. Adrian, Lucy and Paula readily agreed to the outing, and Danny nodded, although I wasn’t sure he had much idea of what he was nodding to. We had a quick breakfast: porridge for us, and Danny wanted his usual – ‘Cornflakes in a bowl, with milk and half a teaspoon of sugar, please.’ After breakfast we wrapped up warm in our coats, scarves and gloves. Reva hadn’t packed any boots for Danny, so I found some in my spares that fitted him.
‘Not mine,’ Danny said, at first refusing to put them on.
‘I know they’re not yours,’ I said. ‘But you are going to wear them to walk in the snow.’
Danny looked at the boots and made no move to put them on.
‘You can’t wear your shoes,’ Lucy said. ‘Your feet will get wet and cold.’ We were all in the hall by then, at the front door, waiting for Danny to put on the boots.
‘Do you want to put the right boot on first or the left one?’ I asked him, resorting to the ‘closed choice’ again. ‘Right or left?’ I repeated, touching each boot.
‘Right,’ Danny said quietly and began putting on the boot.
‘Good boy,’ I said.
Once Danny had his boots and gloves on, Adrian opened the front door. I went out last with Danny and locked the door. Danny took one step into the snow on the front path, stopped dead and screamed.
‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Lucy asked, spinning round.
‘Sshh, you’ll wake the whole street,’ I said. ‘It’s early.’
Danny, rooted to the spot, stared horrified at his boots.
‘He’s scared of the snow,’ Paula said, and offered him her hand.
Danny didn’t take it but, still staring at his feet, screamed again.
‘Oh no! Be quiet,’ Lucy said, embarrassed.
A bedroom window opened above us and my neighbour, Sue, poked her head out. ‘Everything OK, Cath?’ she asked.
‘Yes, sorry,’ I said. ‘I hope we didn’t wake you.’
‘No, my family are up. Beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘Absolutely,’ I agreed.
‘Well, enjoy your day,’ she called, and with a small wave to us all she closed her bedroom window.
‘Danny, you need to be quieter,’ I said. ‘It’s early on Sunday morning and people stay in bed.’
‘Come on, Danny, we’re going to the park,’ Lucy encouraged, eager to get him away to avoid further embarrassment.
Danny remained where he was, as though his feet were set in concrete. I could see we weren’t going anywhere fast, and I didn’t want Danny’s refusal to spoil Adrian’s, Lucy’s and Paula’s enjoyment of our outing or to embarrass them more. ‘You three go on to the park,’ I said. ‘Danny and I will join you shortly.’ The park was only a ten-minute walk away and I knew I could trust them to be sensible.
‘I’ll stay with you, Mum,’ Paula offered.
‘You don’t have to, love,’ I said. ‘Danny will be fine soon.’
But Paula wanted to stay, so Adrian and Lucy went ahead while Paula and I talked calmly to Danny, trying to reassure him that the snow wouldn’t hurt him and to encourage him to take another step. There was so little snow it would have been comical, had he not been so afraid of it.
‘Watch me, Danny,’ Paula said. She walked to the end of the path and back again.
Danny stared, horror-struck, at her footprints as though she’d performed witchcraft.
‘Put it back,’ he said, pointing to the indents she’d left.
‘You can’t put the snow back,’ I said. ‘It’s not missing. Paula has squashed the snow down. It’s nothing to worry about.’
I assumed Danny hadn’t experienced snow before, although we’d had some in recent years. I tried to think of something I could compare it to that might make him less afraid. ‘You like making patterns, Danny,’ I said. ‘You can make patterns out of snow.’
I squatted and drew some circles in the snow with my finger. Danny watched carefully. Then Paula drew two eyes, a nose and an upturned mouth in each of the circles, creating three smiling faces.
Danny’s expression lost some of its anxiety.
‘You can make all sorts of patterns in the snow,’ I said. I drew a zig-zag line, a triangle and then a house.
Finally Danny raised his hand and tentatively poked a gloved finger at the snow. He watched the impression it made and then gradually moved his finger around, drawing some wavy lines.
‘Wonderful, well done,’ I said. ‘That’s a nice pattern. Footprints are patterns too. Let’s see if we can make some footprint patterns, shall we?’
Danny let me hold his hand and we took a step along the path, then another and another. ‘Patterns,’ he said, pointing to the footprints we’d made.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said. ‘We are making patterns, and we are going to make them all the way to the park.’ Which is what we did.
Chapter Nineteen
By the time we were in the park Danny had lost much of his fearfulness of the snow and actually began enjoying it by hopping and jumping to create different footprint patterns. Paula and I praised him enormously. He’d just needed encouragement to gain the confidence to experience something new. We spotted Lucy and Adrian laughing and running around as they threw snow at each other. Paula ran over to join them while Danny stayed with me and we concentrated on making more footprints in the snow. There were other people in the park, but much of the snow was still untouched.
‘Danny’s footprint,’ he said in wonder each time he created a fresh imprint.
‘Yes, that’s your footprint,’ I said. ‘And here is mine.’
He was mesmerized and in wonder at it all. I was so pleased I’d made the effort to bring him, for it would have been far easier to return indoors. But the more Danny broke out of his comfort zone and tried what the world had to offer, the more his confidence would grow.
I’d brought some slices of bread with us to feed the ducks, so Danny and I made our way towards the pond. Adrian, Lucy and Paula joined us there, but Danny was frightened of the ducks and it took a lot of persuading before he would break off a piece of bread and throw it to them, as we were doing. Most of the ducks were standing on the bank, and Danny jumped back with a start if one of them came too close. He watched in awe as Adrian extended his arm trying to encourage the ducks to take the bread from his hand, but laughed, as we did, when one adventurous mallard came slipping and sliding across the icy pond towards us to take some.
‘People should never walk on ice,’ I took the opportunity to caution Danny. ‘It’s not safe.’ Although I didn’t think it was likely he’d ever try – he wasn’t a child who was tempted by adventure.
Once we’d thrown all the bread to the ducks, Adrian, Lucy and Paula went off across the park in search of some fresh snow to throw at each other. I asked Danny if he wanted to go with them or play in the children’s area and have a swing or a slide, but he shook his head.
‘We’ll go on the swings another time then,’ I said.
Danny was content to keep making footprints in the snow. As with most of his pursuits and activities, when he found something that interested him he wanted to do it over and over again, long after most children would have grown bored and wanted to play something else.
Eventually, with our faces glowing from the cold and ready for a hot chocolate, we made our way home. The snow was melting and Danny became agitated when he saw that the footprints we’d made on the front path had distorted and were disappearing. I tried to explain that the snow was melting, but he scowled and told it to ‘Stop!’
Lucy and Paula smiled indulgently, but I could see that Danny was becoming very agitated. I diverted his attention by pointing out the large pigeon that was sitting puffed out against the cold on the neighbour’s fence as I opened the front door and let us in.
The green light of the answerphone on the hall table was flashing, signalling a message. I thought it might be John, Adrian and Paula’s father, who sometimes telephoned on a Sunday if he wasn’t seeing them. But when I pressed play Reva’s voice came through, tight and anxious: ‘Whatever you do, Cathy, don’t take Danny out in the snow! It will freak him out, he’s petrified of it.’
‘Mummy?’ Danny asked, puzzled.
‘Yes. It’s all right, love. There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll telephone your mummy later and tell her you’ve had a good time in the snow.’ Which Danny accepted. He was now more interested in letting George out in what was left of the snow.