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.