‘Yes, I’ve just spoken to the Head. I understand Mr Nowak brought in some of Oskar’s belongings.’ Schools and social services work closely together in matters of child protection.
‘Yes, I’ve unpacked them,’ I said. ‘There are some clothes and a few toy cars, but I’ll need to buy more and also another school uniform.’
‘OK.’ I assumed Andrew was making some notes. ‘Any behaviour issues?’ he asked.
‘Not so far, although it’s early days. Oskar is very quiet and withdrawn at present, but not upset. He didn’t want a bath or shower last night, and I didn’t insist.’ This point wasn’t just about hygiene; it meant I hadn’t had a chance to check Oskar to see if he had any injuries apart from the bruise on his cheek.
‘I’m going to arrange a medical for him, hopefully for later today,’ Andrew said. It’s usual for a child to have a medical when they first come into care, but it can sometimes take a few days to organize. ‘Oskar’s mother is still abroad, but I’ve left a message on her voicemail to phone me. Has Oskar said any more about how he got the bruise on his cheek?’
‘No.’
‘Are there any other injuries you can see?’
‘No. But I haven’t seen him undressed. He wanted to sleep in his clothes to begin with. I persuaded him to change, but I had to wait outside his bedroom door while he did so.’
‘I see. I’ll sort out a medical. That should pick up anything else. You’re keeping a note of all this?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thanks. I’ll be in touch about the medical and also I’ll need to visit Oskar and you later in the week.’ When a child is placed in care the social worker is duty-bound to visit the child within the first week and then at least every six weeks for the first year.
We said goodbye, and I thought while I had the phone in my hand I should phone my supervising social worker, Edith, and update her. My call went through to her voicemail, so I left a message saying that Oskar had had a good night, was now in school and I’d updated his social worker. If she needed to know more, she’d phone me.
Now I’d gone through Oskar’s bag of belongings from home I had a better idea of what I needed to buy for him, so I made a list, downed a quick coffee and then drove into town. I’d just parked when my mobile rang. It was Andrew again. ‘I’ve arranged for Oskar to have a medical at the Health Centre this afternoon at two-thirty,’ he said. ‘I’m emailing the form to the clinic now. I’ll inform his school that you will be collecting Oskar early today. How much time will you need?’
‘Half an hour to be on the safe side, so I’ll have to collect him at two o’clock.’ I’d taken children to the Health Centre before, so I knew where it was.
‘I’ll tell them,’ Andrew said.
‘Any news from Oskar’s mother yet?’ I asked.
‘No.’
Having said goodbye, I headed for the shops, list in hand, where I quickly set about buying Oskar the items he needed. I could tell by looking at the clothes if they would fit him; I’m a reasonable judge after years of looking after children, as most parents and carers are. I bought him two sets of pyjamas patterned with pictures of dinosaurs, a dressing gown, slippers, casual clothes, socks, underwear and grey school trousers. The T-shirts and jerseys showing the school’s emblem could only be bought from his school. I was hoping I’d have time to buy those later when I collected Oskar for his medical. Andrew had arranged the medical very quickly and I assumed it was because Oskar had suffered at least one suspected non-accidental injury – the bruise to his face – and might have more, so it was prudent to have him examined as soon as possible. Had he had more serious injuries, he would have been taken to hospital to be treated and examined.
On the way out of the shopping centre I stopped off at the department store where I knew they had a good selection of cute, cuddly soft toys. I think all children need at least one cuddly toy they can hold close, take to bed if they wish and draw comfort from. Oskar might already have one at home, but it hadn’t been packed. After some deliberation – I could have bought the lot – I chose a traditional teddy bear with very soft brown fur. When my children were young and I had to re-equip a child we were fostering with virtually everything, I used to buy them a little gift to redress the balance, otherwise it could have seemed like favouritism. They didn’t expect it, and appreciated that they had plenty of clothes and belongings while the fostered child often had very little, but I felt better for doing it. Now they were older they often bought the child small gifts too, which was nice of them. It doesn’t take much to bring a smile to a child’s face. But of course, the best gift of all is to be shown kindness, attention and respect.
Once home, I made a sandwich lunch, which I ate as I put together a pasta bake for dinner later, then it was time to set off to Oskar’s school. I arrived outside at 1.45 p.m., buzzed the security-locked outer gate and a few seconds later it released. I crossed the empty playground and buzzed the entry system on the main door.
‘You’re early,’ the school secretary said a little curtly as I entered. ‘I was told to expect you at two o’clock.’ She was in the open-plan office to the right and was clearly very busy.
‘I was hoping I could buy Oskar some school T-shirts and jerseys,’ I said. ‘He only has one with him.’
‘We sell them at the end of school,’ she said, concentrating on her computer screen.
‘Shall I wait until tomorrow afternoon?’ I asked. ‘I won’t be returning to school today.’
There was a moment’s silence when I thought I might have heard a tut, and then she stood and asked, ‘What size and how many?’
‘Two of each, please. Aged six.’
She disappeared out the back of the office while I waited in reception. A few minutes later she reappeared with the garments in plastic bags. I thanked her and paid. ‘You can go up and collect him now if you like,’ she said. ‘It’s nearly two o’clock. Sign in the Visitors’ Book first.’
I thanked her again, signed the book and made my way to Oskar’s classroom, feeling like a chastised child. Much has changed since I was at school, but it doesn’t take much for me to be transported back to my own school days. The sounds, smells, classrooms, assembly hall, terse comments – they all form poignant reminders, good and bad.
I looked through the glass panel in the door of Oskar’s classroom and saw Miss Jordan moving between the tables as the children worked. She saw me and nodded, then brought Oskar to me. ‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘See you tomorrow,’ she smiled, and returned to her class.
‘Where are we going?’ Oskar asked, worried, as we went along the corridor.
I was sure Miss Jordan would have told him, but I explained. ‘To the Health Centre so a doctor can check you over and make sure you are healthy. There is nothing for you to worry about.’
We entered reception and I signed out of the Visitors’ Book as the school secretary watched from the office, then I pressed the button to release the main door.
‘Have you ever seen a doctor before?’ I asked Oskar as we crossed the playground.
‘Yes, I had a cough, but I’m not ill now.’
‘I know. This is to make sure you stay well. The doctor will weigh and measure you, listen to your chest, check your eyes and ears and probably feel your tummy. It’s nothing for you to worry about,’ I said again, for Oskar was still looking very serious. ‘I bought you some new clothes today,’ I said, changing the subject. ‘And a little present.’
Most children would have asked what the