Nobody’s Son: Part 2 of 3: All Alex ever wanted was a family of his own. Cathy Glass
didn’t say. ‘You do other nice things when he takes you out,’ I added. ‘And when Paula is older the three of us could go bike riding.’ But I doubted this would make up for not going with his father.
We took Alex to school that morning, and as we said goodbye we wished him a nice weekend. The next time we would see him would be Sunday afternoon (before his move on Monday) and I was planning a special goodbye tea. When children have been with the same foster carer for some time it’s usual to give them a little goodbye party, but Alex had only been with me a few weeks and had never met my parents, brother or my friends, so it seemed more appropriate that it was just us. I would buy him a leaving present and card the following day and make his last evening with us special. Goodbyes are always difficult, but thankfully Alex, like many of the children I’d fostered, was leaving us to go to a loving forever home, so there was plenty to be happy about.
When Rosemary arrived that afternoon I had Alex’s cases, some of his toys – in the boxes – and his bike ready in the hall. Rosemary was surprised he had so much, especially when I said there was as much if not more again, which I would pack ready for Monday.
‘I always thought that foster children didn’t own many possessions,’ she said as we loaded her car. This was a mistake many people made and I explained to her that while this was sometimes true when a child first came into care, once they’d been in care a while they had as much as any other child – sometimes even more, as the carer made up for what they’d missed.
‘I see,’ Rosemary said. ‘I’ll have to explain that to James. I told him he’d have to let Alex have some of his toys, but really there’s no need.’
‘No, but it’s still nice to share.’
‘Oh yes, I’ve already told James that.’
Rosemary didn’t stay for a coffee, as she wanted to leave in plenty of time to collect Alex from school. Paula and I saw her off at the door and then I had to try to explain to Paula why Rosemary was taking Alex’s belongings: that she was his mummy now and Alex was happy he was going to live with his new family on Monday. But of course it was impossible for a small child to understand and she slipped her hand into mine and said, ‘My mummy.’
‘Yes, I’m your mummy forever and ever.’
Chapter Nine
‘Can’t I stay?’ Alex protested when I collected him on Sunday afternoon.
‘No, love, you have to go back with Cathy for just one more night,’ Rosemary said to him. ‘Then you come to stay with us.’
‘Forever,’ I added, smiling encouragingly at Alex. ‘I’m going to make us a special tea with jelly and ice cream, and we’ve bought you a present.’
‘A present!’ Rosemary exclaimed, helping Alex into his coat. ‘You can’t miss that. Enjoy your evening and we’ll see you tomorrow morning.’
She kissed the top of his head and Alex came with us, a little reluctantly, while Rosemary and James saw us off. Edward had gone out for a while. As I settled the children into their seats I saw that Adrian was looking a little hurt that Alex hadn’t wanted to come with us, and I threw him a reassuring smile. But of course it was a good sign that Alex had wanted to stay with his family, and confirmed that during the introductory period he had successfully transferred his affection and sense of where home was from us to them. By the time we arrived home Adrian was chatting happily to Alex and they were both looking forward to our party tea.
I’d hung balloons and streamers in the living room and had set the table ready with a colourful tablecloth, matching napkins and paper party cups. In our absence Toscha had managed to pull down one of the streamers and was playing with it, chasing it around the room, which made Alex laugh.
‘Do you think my mum will let me have a cat?’ he asked me.
‘I don’t know, you’d have to ask her. Not everyone likes pets.’
‘I’ll ask her tomorrow,’ he said.
I organized some party games that worked with just the few of us – hide and seek, hunt the thimble, sleeping lions, pass the parcel (in which I’d hidden a wrapped sweet between each layer of paper and a prize in the centre). Then I set the party food on the table: small sausage rolls, slices of pizza, little samosas, cheese straws, crisps and bowls of finely sliced cucumber and tomatoes, which we ate with fizzy lemonade. Once we’d had our fill of the savouries I brought out the individual jellies and ice cream, and a plate of chocolate biscuits and cupcakes. Then we gave Alex the presents we’d bought him and which I’d previously wrapped – boxed games of Guess Who?, Operation and draughts, which he’d enjoyed playing with us, together with a card signed by us all. There was also a good-luck card from my parents containing a five-pound note, even though they’d never met him, which was kind. There was a card from Jill sent on behalf of the agency wishing Alex luck in his new home. Once he’d finished admiring the cards and gifts, I packed them in one of his cases so they wouldn’t be forgotten. Then we settled in the living room to watch a children’s movie, popping to the table every so often to help ourselves to another biscuit or savoury. By the end of the evening most of the food had gone.
Although Alex didn’t have to be up for school the following morning – it was his moving day – Adrian had to be, so I took the children up to bed at a reasonable time; Paula first and then Alex and Adrian. Alex’s room was looking bare now with everything packed apart from his nightwear, one soft toy and a change of clothes for the morning.
‘This is my last night here,’ he said as, after a wash, he climbed into bed. ‘Will I remember it?’
‘You may,’ I said. ‘But I’ve taken a photograph of your room and put it in your Life Story Book, as well as some of us. It’s packed in one of the cases.’ Alex knew about his Life Story Book from being with other carers. It is a record of the child’s time with the carer and includes photographs and memorabilia – for example, cinema tickets, the child’s drawings and merit certificates from school – and is considered part of good fostering practice now. It’s an aide-memoire that the child takes with them to supplement their own memories so they can retain a sense of their past. Having to move around so much can blur memories, as they don’t have their birth parents to keep a treasure chest of memories alive.
‘Will my mum and dad put photographs in my book too?’ Alex asked.
‘You can decide that with them. They will certainly take photographs, but they may put them in photograph albums. That’s what we do here.’
He nodded and snuggled down, and appeared to be taking the end of his stay with us in his stride. ‘Well, goodnight then, love,’ I said. ‘It’s a busy day for you tomorrow, so get some sleep. Would you like a goodnight kiss?’
‘No, thank you,’ he said with a small, embarrassed smile. ‘I’m saving all my kisses for my mummy.’
‘I know.’
He turned onto his side and with one arm around his polar bear gave a little sigh of contentment as he closed his eyes ready for sleep.
The following morning Alex was up and getting dressed when I went into his room. ‘It’s all right, you’ve got plenty of time,’ I said. ‘They’re not coming until ten-thirty, after we’ve taken Adrian to school.’
‘I know, but I want to be ready,’ he said excitedly.
‘OK. But stay in your room and play while I get Paula up.’ Which he did.
For Adrian it was another Monday morning, and because it was the middle of winter the dark and cold outside added to his feeling that he’d rather be in bed than getting ready for school. It took a few reminders before he was up and dressed and downstairs having breakfast.
‘This is my last breakfast here,’ Alex announced