‘Danny seems to like George more than he does us,’ Lucy commented, much as Reva had done.
‘I think Danny finds it easier being with his pet, because he doesn’t make any demands of him,’ I said. ‘I’m hoping the educational psychologist will be able to help Danny express himself and lose some of his distrust of adults.’
‘Why doesn’t he trust us?’ Paula asked. ‘We haven’t done anything to him.’
‘No, but we’re part of a world Danny doesn’t understand and it scares him. He’s the same with his parents and the other children at school.’ Although I’d talked to my children about Danny’s difficulties, and we’d fostered other children before who’d been on the autistic spectrum, it was still hard for them to fully appreciate how differently Danny perceived the world around us, as indeed it was for his parents and me. While Danny hadn’t been diagnosed with autism (we were waiting for the educational psychologist’s assessment), he displayed many of the traits of autism.
I wondered if Danny’s father, Richard, would bring Danny home – I still hadn’t met him. But when I answered the door shortly after six o’clock it was just Reva and Danny. They came into the hall, Danny holding a new toy: a maze game where the aim was to pot silver balls into holes by tilting the box.
‘That’s very nice,’ I said, admiring the game. ‘Lucky boy.’
Reva gave a small sigh. ‘He doesn’t deserve it, really, but he made such a fuss in the shop I had to buy him something to keep him quiet.’
I thought it was just as well Lucy hadn’t heard this, as clearly Reva had rewarded Danny’s negative behaviour.
‘So you all went shopping?’ I said to Danny. ‘Did you have a nice day?’
Danny didn’t answer but put down the toy and began undoing his coat. ‘It wasn’t good,’ Reva said quietly to me. ‘We were going to buy him some new shoes, but he made such a fuss we had to leave the shop. Can you get him some new shoes? I’ll give you the money.’ She began opening her shoulder bag.
‘I can buy Danny some new shoes if he needs them,’ I said. ‘But I can’t take your money. I’m given an allowance from the council, so I’ll use that.’
‘But I want you to buy the best,’ Reva said, taking her purse from her bag. ‘I take him to –’ And she named a children’s boutique in the city that sold designer clothes and shoes for kids and was exorbitantly expensive.
‘I’m afraid my allowance doesn’t stretch that far,’ I said. ‘But I really can’t take your money. If Danny needs new shoes either you can buy them or I’ll buy him some good ones, although they won’t be designer.’ I also had a moral objection to buying designer wear for children when they would outgrow them very quickly and there were so many families with so little. It just didn’t seem right to me.
‘He doesn’t really need new shoes,’ Reva admitted, looking at the nearly new leather trainers Danny was now taking off. ‘But I wanted to buy him some stuff, I guess to make it up to him for not being with me.’
I hesitated and then said, ‘Reva, can I give you some advice?’
She gave a small nod.
‘Many parents with children in care feel guilty and overcompensate by showering them with gifts. The child comes to expect them and it causes problems, especially when they return home and it can’t be sustained. The best present you can give Danny is your time – play with him and do things together that he enjoys.’
Reva looked at me thoughtfully. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Although I do play with him when he lets me, which isn’t often.’ She put away her purse. ‘Oh, and by the way,’ she added, ‘Richard was impressed that you managed to get Danny to wear his winter clothes. He usually refuses and insists on wearing shorts and T-shirt, which makes going out in winter with him a no-no.’
I nodded, but didn’t say anything; I thought I’d given enough advice for one day, but here was another example of the child being in charge of the parents and making decisions without the knowledge or maturity to make the correct one. From the sound of it, Reva and Richard’s life had been ridiculously controlled by Danny’s behaviour, but I’d tackle that another time.
Having taken off his shoes and coat, Danny turned to his mother and raised his arms, ready for her to lift him so he could hang up his coat.
‘He’s remembered from last time,’ she said, surprised and delighted.
‘Yes, Danny remembers far more than he is able to say,’ I said.
She lifted Danny up and he looped his coat over the stand, then she set him down again. As soon as his feet touched the floor he cried, ‘George!’ and headed for the back door.
‘Would you like to stay a while?’ I asked Reva.
‘No. Danny’s had enough of me for one day.’
‘I’m sure he hasn’t,’ I said. ‘He just struggles to show his feelings. He’s a lovely boy underneath, very caring.’
Reva’s eyes immediately misted. ‘I know, I just wish he could love us.’
‘Danny does love you,’ I said, astonished that Reva could believe otherwise. ‘But he can’t show it. I’m sure once the educational psychologist is involved she’ll be able to help Danny.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Reva said decisively. ‘Richard is still opposed to the assessment.’
‘Why?’
She shrugged. ‘All sorts of reasons, but it’s not going to happen. I’ve told Terri. Say goodbye to Danny for me, please.’ She turned and left.
‘Reva,’ I called after her. She was clearly upset, but she continued down the path and onto the pavement towards her car.
I closed the front door, aware that Richard’s attitude wouldn’t go down well with social services. He needed to cooperate with them, not block measures that would help Danny, and I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t want the best for his son.
Chapter Sixteen
Making Friends
Sunday was a disaster, although it started well enough. We’d enjoyed a leisurely cooked breakfast, when Danny had contentedly separated the white of the egg from the yolk so he could eat it (palest first) before the bacon, tomatoes and baked beans, but he had eaten it all. He’d also dressed in the clothes I’d suggested were suitable for winter without too much fuss and had then begun playing with something other than Lego: some cars from his toy box. But when my parents arrived he hid behind the sofa and no amount of encouragement would persuade him to come out. To begin with we treated it as a game, making comments loud enough for Danny to hear, like, ‘I wonder where Danny is?’ and ‘Where can he be hiding?’ Mum said, ‘I’m looking forward to meeting Danny,’ with Adrian adding, ‘He’ll want to show you George.’ But Danny stayed behind the sofa and didn’t make a sound.
I thought he needed time to adjust to new company, so I left him there a while longer as the rest of us chatted and caught up on our news, as families do. But it was disconcerting to know Danny was there, wedged behind the sofa, silent and not part of our group. So after about twenty minutes I looked behind the sofa and said, ‘Danny, come out and sit with us. My parents would like to meet you.’ But he kept his head down, mute and unyielding. I tried again ten minutes later but with the same result. Then I had to keep popping into the kitchen to check on dinner, so I left the others talking between themselves and also trying to encourage Danny out. If Danny thought that by hiding he was going to make himself invisible, he was wrong. It had the opposite effect, as our concern for him highlighted his presence and made him the centre of attention.
When I called everyone for dinner Danny was still behind the sofa, and no amount of cajoling or encouraging would persuade him out. I didn’t want their dinner to spoil. I also thought that having so many people involved might be overwhelming for Danny and keeping him behind the sofa, so I suggested they began dinner while I saw to him. With the living room empty and quiet, I slowly eased the sofa forward. Danny put his head in his hands so he didn’t have to look at me. I knelt on the floor in front of him.
‘Danny, what’s the matter?’ I asked gently, touching
his arm. ‘Can you tell me?’
He shook his head.
‘My parents have come to see us all. They’re staying for dinner and then they will go home later.’ Perhaps he thought they were staying for good – I didn’t know what his expectation of having visitors was, and Reva had said they’d stopped inviting people to their house. ‘Danny, I want you to come with me for dinner now,’ I said gently but firmly. ‘I know dinner is earlier today than it is on a school day, but you can sit in the same place at the table, just as you always do.’
There was no response.
‘Danny, would you feel happier if you saw George?’
He gave the slightest nod.
‘All right. Once you’ve had dinner you can take George in the garden, but I want you to come and eat with us first.’
I stood and offered him my hand. He refused it but did stand and then followed me out of the living room and to the dining table. Everyone else had begun eating, but without their usual light-hearted chatter. Danny’s behaviour had created an atmosphere, which was having an effect on us all. He slid silently into his chair. ‘Well done,’ I said quietly as I sat next to him. Mum threw me a look of relief. I smiled and hoped that now Danny had joined us he would start to relax and enjoy my parents’ visit. But as we began chatting and the noise level rose, as it often does at family mealtimes, Danny suddenly put down his cutlery, shut his eyes and clamped his hands over his ears. My father looked at him, clearly thinking his behaviour was rude, and I motioned to him not to say anything.
‘Let’s just carry on as normal,’ I said. ‘I’m sure Danny will start eating again soon.’
He didn’t. He sat at the table with his hands pressed to his ears and his eyes screwed shut as though trying to block us out. I touched his arm a couple of times and spoke to him reassuringly, but it didn’t help. I was becoming torn between catering for Danny’s needs and those of my guests and children. Then suddenly Danny let out an ear-piercing scream, making us all jump, and shot from the table and ran upstairs. I stood. ‘Please carry on,’ I said. ‘I’ll go to him.’
I could see my parents were shocked and worried, as were my children, but I left the now silent meal table and went upstairs to Danny’s bedroom. He was about to climb into the wardrobe.
‘No more hiding, Danny,’ I said, lightly taking his arm. ‘I want you to calm down and tell me what’s wrong.’
He spun round and lashed out. ‘No!’ he screamed at the top of his voice, trying to hit me and grab my hair. I took his hands and he threw himself onto the floor, screaming, shouting and drumming his legs. I knew he was going into meltdown. I knelt on the floor beside him, scooped him into my arms and then held him on my lap as he continued screaming and thrashing. I was conscious of how distressing all this would sound downstairs and how worried my parents and children would be, but I hoped no one came up to try to help, for I suspected that part of Danny’s distress was that he’d become overwhelmed and now needed some space and time out. I held him close and then began gently rocking him, which he seemed to find soothing. When he finally stopped shouting and screaming and could hear me, I talked to him gently, reassuring him that he was safe. Eventually he relaxed against me, quiet, still and exhausted. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and my mother appeared at the bedroom door. ‘Are you all right, love?’ she asked anxiously. ‘We’re all worried about you.’
‘We’ll be with you in a minute,’ I said. ‘You go down and we’ll join you soon.’
Mum looked at Danny, now lying limp in my arms, and then reluctantly went downstairs. I continued to soothe Danny for a while longer. Time slipped by and when we finally returned downstairs I realized I’d been upstairs with Danny for nearly an hour. My family had finished eating the main course, had cleared away the dishes, stacked the dishwasher and were now in the living room trying to make the best of what had become a very difficult day. They were clearly worried about Danny and the strain his behaviour was putting on me. My father, not understanding Danny’s disabilities, said, ‘Is he always this naughty?’
‘Yes,’ Lucy replied, annoyed Danny’s behaviour was ruining the day. ‘Can we have pudding now, Mum, please, before he has another tantrum?’
‘There’s no need for that, love,’ I said. ‘But, yes, if everyone is ready we can have pudding.’
They were ready, and I held Danny’s hand as we returned to the dining table. I served the pudding and Danny ate a very small amount, but he remained sitting quietly at the table with his eyes down while we finished. Then he slid silently from his chair and went to the back door.
‘He wants to see George,’ Adrian explained to my parents.
‘Doesn’t he talk at all?’ my mother asked.
‘When he wants to,’ Lucy said, still disgruntled with his behaviour.
‘He has communication difficulties,’ I explained.
‘As well as other things,’ Lucy put in.
I could see why she was out of patience with Danny. She’d been looking forward to Nana and Grandpa’s visit just as Adrian, Paula and I had, and the day was being spoilt.
I thought that, as Danny was clearly struggling with having visitors and the changes this had brought to his routine, it would be better if just he and I went into the garden with George so he wasn’t overloaded further. I suggested that everyone else watch through the living-room window.
‘Suits me,’ Dad said. ‘It’s cold out there.’
‘I wasn’t coming out anyway,’ Lucy said tetchily.
They went into the living room as I fetched Danny’s and my coat and shoes. He put them on in silence, and outside he didn’t say anything to George as he opened the hutch door. George was pleased to see him and be let out, and he hopped off down the lawn. Danny walked up and down the garden with George beside him, lost in his own little world, which was doubtless more familiar and secure than the one he’d left indoors. I saw my parents and Paula watching from the living-room window, and when Danny turned to face the house Mum waved to him, but Danny looked away. Adrian and Lucy appeared briefly at the window and then they all disappeared from view, probably sitting and chatting as we usually did after Sunday dinner. I stayed in the garden with Danny and George for half an hour and Danny didn’t say one word. The temperature began to drop, and I was conscious that I’d hardly seen anything of my parents, so presently I said to Danny, ‘It’s time for George to go into his hutch now, love.’
Danny ignored me and walked away. I went round to face him. ‘Danny, it’s time for George to go into his hutch now,’ I repeated. ‘Do you want to put him in or shall I?’
He didn’t reply but took another couple of steps away from me. Not knowing any better, George followed him.
‘I’ll put George away then,’ I said. I went into the kitchen and returned with a stick of broccoli. ‘Time to go into your hutch, George,’ I said, and dangled the broccoli in front of George’s nose. It twitched with delight and he hopped towards me. I saw the look of surprise on Danny’s face.
‘I do it!’ he cried, quickly coming between us. They were the first words he’d spoken all afternoon. ‘Bedtime, George,’ he said quietly. George hopped after him without any enticement, and I followed them up the lawn and onto the patio. Once George was in his hutch I gave him the broccoli and Danny closed the door.
‘Good boy. Now we can go indoors and join the others.’
Danny came with me into the house and we took off our coats and shoes. I led the way into the living room, but he stopped at the door, took one look at the room full of people talking and laughing and fled to his room.
‘Not again!’ Lucy sighed.
‘Stay downstairs with us, Mum,’ Paula pleaded.
‘We’ve hardly seen anything of you,’ my father added.
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t sit here knowing Danny is upset.’ And feeling bad at deserting my family again, I went upstairs to Danny. He was lying on his side on his bed with his arm around soft-toy George. He wasn’t crying, but looked lost and afraid. I
perched on the edge of the bed.
‘Come downstairs and show me where you’d like to sit to play with your toys,’ I suggested. ‘We can put your toy box wherever you like. But it would be nice if you could sit in the same room as us. It’s friendly and we’d all like it if you could.’ He didn’t move or acknowledge he’d heard me but stared blankly ahead. I continued to talk to him, trying to persuade him to come down. Then Paula came up. ‘Nana says they have to go soon. It’s after five and it’s nearly dark.’
I hadn’t realized the time, and I knew my father didn’t like driving in the dark now he was older. ‘I’m coming down,’ I said, sad that they were leaving. Then to Danny, ‘Can you come and say goodbye?’
He shook his head and buried his face in soft-toy George.
‘I won’t be long,’ I said, and left him on his bed.
Downstairs, I apologized to my parents. ‘It’s all been too much for Danny,’ I explained. ‘I should have realized. He’s not used to visitors – they don’t have many at his house.
‘I’m not surprised,’ Lucy said dryly, and my father stifled a smile.
‘He’ll slowly get used to it and become more sociable,’ I said. ‘But it will take time.’
‘So what about you coming to us?’ Mum asked, concerned. My parents lived about an hour’s drive away and we tended to take it in turns visiting each other.
‘I wouldn’t try it yet,’ I said. ‘Not until Danny is more used to being with different people. But he does have contact with his parents on Saturdays, so we could visit you then, until he’s able to join us.’ Normally the children I fostered joined in all family occasions, but I had to be practical and realistic.
Mum nodded and kissed my cheek. ‘You take care then, love,’ she said, subdued.
‘The meal was delicious,’ my father said, hugging me. ‘It’s just a pity you didn’t have a chance to enjoy it.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘You had Paula, Adrian and Lucy to keep you company.’
‘And they did a fantastic job,’ Mum said positively.