‘Why was that? Do you know?’ I asked, more from interest, because I couldn’t imagine Tracey doing anything voluntarily, and certainly not giving up a baby.
‘No idea,’ Jamey said, ‘but apparently Lisa has escaped the learning difficulties which plague the rest of the family.’ I wondered if she had also escaped having the same features, including the unusual front teeth, but it seemed insensitive to ask.
‘All the other siblings look identical, don’t they?’ I said.
‘So I hear, although, I have only met Brad and Sean so far. I’m going to see Sharon and Susie next week, and Lisa the week after. It’s very time consuming with the children living so far away: it’s virtually a whole day out of the office.’
I nodded sympathetically and thought that as I didn’t want to be responsible for keeping Jamey out of the office I’d better get a move on. ‘I haven’t taken Reece to the optician or dentist yet,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know if this was done with his previous carers.’
‘I shouldn’t think so. He wasn’t there long enough. Take him for a check-up, please, and let me know the results.’
‘Yes. And what about a medical?’
‘I’ll arrange to have the forms sent.’
‘Thanks. Shall I register him with my GP? I haven’t done so yet. I was waiting for you to return in case you wanted him to stay where he was. He’s still in the catchment area of his last doctor.’
‘No. Register him with yours. Tracey uses the other one and I understand she spends a lot of time there.’
I looked at Jamey. ‘Were you aware just how close his mum lives?’
‘Not until I looked at the file, and I guess the placement team wasn’t either. Let’s hope it doesn’t cause a problem. Tracey won’t be told your address.’ I wondered again what the chances were of us bumping into each other in the high street, although it hadn’t happened yet.
‘Reece’s school?’ I asked hopefully. ‘Any chance of Reece starting school in the foreseeable future?’
‘I’ll chase the education department when I get back to the office,’ Jamey said.
‘Can I chase them as well?’
‘Yes, by all means. Sorry, I forgot to bring their number with me but it will be in the directory.’
‘Do you know who is dealing with it?’
‘No, but just mention Reece’s name and I should think they’ll find the right person.’
‘Do you have a copy of Reece’s statement of education needs?’ I asked, ever the optimist, and recognizing that although Jamey had come with a briefcase, he hadn’t opened it or taken anything out.
‘I haven’t seen one yet,’ he said. ‘Could you ask the education department to send you one when you speak to them? I must have a copy on a file somewhere, but goodness knows which file or where.’
Aware that Jamey had just joined this council, had just taken on this (complicated) case, and that the files were exhaustive and not all in one place, I had to accept what Jamey was saying, almost.
‘I understood there was a requirement to have all fostered children in school within twenty-eight days of being placed,’ I said.
He nodded thoughtfully, running his hand over his ponytail. ‘Yes. It’s twenty-four days actually.’
‘And from what I understand Reece has been out of school for a term or longer. Do you know he could only write his first name without help?’
‘That’s dreadful,’ Jamey sympathized and tutted. He was one of those people who I felt like hugging before giving them a good kick up the backside to get them moving. ‘I’ll phone education and see what I can do,’ he added.
‘Thank you. It’s not fair on Reece to be out of school. Apart from his education, he needs the social interaction. I can only do so much.’
He nodded again, and then sighed. ‘I’m in court next week on this case.’
‘Again?’ I asked surprise. ‘I thought Mary was there the other week, while you were away?’
‘She was. Apparently Tracey makes a habit of going to court. This time she is asking for another half an hour of contact time, so that it would be two hours twice a week. She won’t get it: it’s not in the children’s interests. They couldn’t cope with two hours. But we have to go through the motions, and each time she takes us to court it costs the social services £15,000 – money that could be better spent on other things like the kids who are in care. Add up all Tracey’s spurious court actions over the years and I bet you could afford to take every foster kid in the county to Disneyland in Florida for two weeks.’
It was the most Jamey had said since arriving and I agreed with him. Tracey’s legal actions were a huge drain on the social services’ already overstretched budget and the money could be better spent on other things. But if Tracey was hell bent on pursuing her court actions, then she had a legal (and some would argue moral) right to do so, and there was precious little the social services could do, other than defend their actions.
‘When is the final court hearing?’ I asked.
‘The fourteenth of September. The court has set aside six days to hear the case. When I’ve got all the files together I shall be compiling my report. If it helps, Cathy, you can come into the office to read it.’
‘Yes, thank you. I’d appreciate that. It would give me a better insight into Reece’s early years.’
Jamey was being helpful, but he seemed overwhelmed with work, and I suspected his divorce wasn’t helping with his work commitments. However, he had that very relaxed casual air which suggested he took everything in his stride and remained unfazed. I couldn’t help but like him, despite my wanting to put some skates under him to get him going on Reece’s case.
I told Jamey of Reece’s sexualized behaviour and Jamey said that he wasn’t surprised because from what he had learnt so far, there’d been a lot of inappropriate sexual behaviour at home, much of which was documented in the files he had yet to recover. What he did know was that while Scott had been in prison for a drink-related assault he had made friends with a paedophile who had visited them at the flat, which of course meant he’d had access to Reece and Susie.
‘Do you think Reece has been sexually abused?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. He’s been in that environment, so it’s possible. Do you think he has?’
‘I really don’t know. He is more sexually aware than he should be for a child of his age, but that could be from inappropriate television viewing. He’s happy here but he is still closed about his home life, as you saw. I don’t think he will say anything for a very long time.’
Jamey nodded. ‘Mum is quite a formidable character. I had to have security remove her from the offices again yesterday. It took two security guards and she head-butted one. It’s quite possible Reece is frightened of her and has been frightened into silence.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘He seems to have a better relationship with his dad, for all Scott’s faults.’
‘Does he? That’s interesting, particularly in the light of what Susie is saying.’ Jamey considered this thoughtfully but didn’t add anything.
Before he left he spent some time with Reece in his bedroom, admiring and playing with his toys. When Jamey came into the hall he renewed his promises that he would send me additional information as he found it and also chase up the education department immediately on his return to the office. As I was seeing him out I suddenly remembered Reece’s review.
‘I don’t think Reece has had his first review,’ I said.
‘No,’ he agreed, ‘he probably hasn’t. Well, let’s call this meeting a review then.’
I looked at him. ‘OK,’ I said hesitantly. It wasn’t for me to query it, but I’d never heard of a home visit replacing a review before. A review is usually quite formal, with a chairperson and recorded minutes, but it was Jamey’s decision.
After Jamey had gone, and while Reece was watching the last fifteen minutes of The Lion King DVD, I made appointments at the optician and dentist for Reece for the following week, and our rou
tine continued.
In fact our routine continued for the whole of March. We did some schoolwork each morning, and Reece’s sight vocabulary went up to thirty-five words, and he could write all the letters of the alphabet, and count to a hundred. We went out for part of each day and Reece watched children’s programmes for an hour in the evening. I met Marie and Susie again at the same park. Lucy and Paula taught Reece draughts and Four-in-a-Row, and he even beat Lucy once. I got to know Sabrina, who took Reece to and from contact. When I asked Reece how his mum and dad were and if he had had a nice time, he said: ‘Don’t know.’
When I took Reece to the dentist, the dentist wasn’t unduly worried by the unusual arrangement of Reece’s front teeth. He said that such a configuration was often inherited and that Reece might need orthodontic treatment when he was older. The optician said Reece’s eyesight was fine.
Also during March I emailed and telephoned the education department, who said they were in the process of identifying a school for Reece; Jamey, who was still collating the files; and Jill, whom I regularly updated. Foster carers are supposed to attend training, and the expectation is that we attend one or two courses each month to keep abreast of change. The courses are very helpful and include topics like hyperactivity, first aid, attachment, challenging behaviour, and sexual abuse. But with Reece not being in school it was impossible for me to attend this training, which Jill appreciated and reassured me wouldn’t count against me when the time came for my annual review.
Easter was fast approaching and, aware that there was still no sign of a school on the horizon, and feeling increasingly frustrated and incensed on Reece’s behalf, I upped my telephone calls and emails to the education department and Jamey.
‘I’m sorry, Cathy,’ Jamey said in his usual unflustered mellow voice. ‘I’m doing all I can. I don’t really understand what the hold-up is.’
‘Well, can you find out, please? This is ridiculous. The kid hasn’t been in school for nearly six months now. Also the education department won’t give me a copy of his statement. They say it has to come from you.’
‘I’ve found the statement,’ Jamey said, ‘but I haven’t had a chance to read it. Shall I fax it over?’
‘I don’t have a fax,’ I said bluntly.
‘OK, no problem. I’ll put it in the post then.’ But he didn’t and another week passed. I was starting to get annoyed.
Ironically, in the end, it was Tracey who finally got Reece into school. She employed her usual method and, armed with a barrister and solicitor, took the social services to court (at the taxpayers’ expense). The judge directed that Reece had to be in school within five days, although I didn’t know this until I received a telephone call on Monday – the last Monday in March. But it wasn’t the social worker who phoned me, or the education department, but the head of a local school, at 7 p.m.!
Chapter Ten:
Summoned to the Head
‘I am not at all happy with this,’ the headmaster began. ‘I am being forced into taking this child. We are not equipped to deal with him. He needs a special school.’ I knew the head’s name was Tom Fitzgerald; he had at least introduced himself before beginning his negative discourse. ‘I have already told the director of education that my school isn’t suitable. In fact I wasted a lot of time compiling a report to this effect, but he has chosen to ignore it. I understand a judge has said that Reece must be in school immediately, so that I have no choice but to take him.’
‘Really?’ I said. I was taken completely off guard and my initial surprised delight at receiving a phone call from a head quickly turned to shock. We had waited so long for this call, this new start for Reece, and now the head was phoning to say he didn’t want him but was being forced to take him. I’d never experienced anything like it before; all the heads I’d dealt with previously had been exceptionally welcoming, going out of their way to accommodate a foster child. ‘Why has Reece been sent to your school then?’ I asked, at last collecting my thoughts and sitting on the chair in the hall by the telephone.
‘Because you are in the catchment area of this school and we have a vacancy.’ As if I was to blame for living where I did! Although we were in the school’s catchment area it was not a school I had previously had children at. It was about a mile away, on the other side of town, and I didn’t know the school or the head. ‘We really can’t cater for his needs,’ he said again. ‘Why isn’t he in a special school?’
‘I don’t know.’ I said. ‘I thought children with learning difficulties were catered for in mainstream schools now, with support from teaching assistants.’
‘They are usually,’ he said bluntly. ‘But not when they have Reece’s level of behavioural problems as well. He has been excluded from two previous schools, and I will have no hesitation in doing the same here.’
I was annoyed, not to mention disappointed, and really struggling to keep my emotions and tongue under control. It sounded as though Reece was being set up for failure even before he had begun. ‘His behaviour isn’t that bad,’ I said lamely. ‘In fact he has settled down really well with me.’
‘Have you seen his statement of special educational needs?’ he demanded.
‘No,’ I had to admit.
‘Right. I will have a copy ready for you in the morning. I want to see you before he starts on Wednesday.’
‘He’s starting on Wednesday?’ I asked
‘Yes. I was told he had to start tomorrow, Tuesday, but I’ve made it clear to the director of education that that isn’t possible. I need to see you first.’ I felt like a child summoned to the head’s office.
‘All right,’ I agreed. Without a copy of Reece’s statement of special educational needs, I really was impotent to argue with him about Reece’s behaviour or confirm how much he had improved. I was annoyed that Jamey hadn’t found the time to send me a copy so that I could have defended Reece. With no details before me I had to accept what the head was saying, although I thought he must be exaggerating and was possibly overreacting — probably annoyed by being forced into accepting a child who didn’t fit the ‘norm’ and would require extra time and effort. However, the head would be receiving an extra payment for his school budget in respect of supplying the extra help Reece would need. ‘Reece has settled down incredibly well,’ I said again. ‘He really does want to learn. Now his home life is stable, I’m sure his behaviour at school will reflect this.’
‘That’s what the director of education said,’ he said, unimpressed. ‘But I will reserve my judgement. I would like you to come to the school tomorrow at ten o’clock. Somehow I’ve got to put together an education plan by Wednesday morning. I want you to stay the first morning in case he becomes a problem.’ The implication was that if Reece did ‘become a problem’ I would be taking him straight home again, excluded on his first day!
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll do all I can to settle Reece into school.’
‘Right. I’ll see you at ten o’clock then. Goodbye.’
I set down the phone and sat for a moment. I was fuming. All the weeks of looking forward to Reece starting school, and my hopes for him making real progress, and friends, had been dashed. From what I had just heard not only was the poor kid going to be spending the greater part of each week in an environment where he was not wanted but at the first sign of any trouble he would be excluded and sent home in disgrace. I wondered if there was anything I could do about finding him another school, but quickly came to the conclusion there wasn’t. The system for allotting children places in schools had changed in recent years, and Reece’s situation was complicated by him being a ‘looked-after’ child. If he had been my own child it would have been different: I would have found a suitable school with a vacancy and applied for a place. Now I was confined (as was the head, Mr Fitzgerald) by the education department’s decision based on the directive of the judge.
Reece had had his bath and was in his pyjamas and dressing gown, being read to by Lucy in the living room before I took him up
to bed. I knew I couldn’t let Reece see my disappointment and concern when I told him he was going to school. I would have to make it sound positive, although I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. The other thing I needed to do immediately was to find someone to look after Reece the following morning while I went to see the head. Fortunately I have a number of good friends who also foster and are therefore approved by the social services to look after another fostered child for a short while. I could hear Lucy still reading to Reece in the living room so I quickly phoned my friend Nicola and, resisting the temptation to offload my anger and worries about Mr Fitzgerald and his attitude, explained that the head of Reece’s new school wanted to meet me alone the following morning, and asked if she could look after Reece for a couple of hours. Nicola had already briefly met Reece when we had been out shopping in the high street.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Happy to. Bring him as soon as you like.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I owe you one.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she said. We often helped each other out, and Nicola fostered very young, pre-school children, so if she had a dental appointment or wanted to go to the hairdresser I would look after her toddler. I was happy to help her out, as she was happy to help me.
‘Thanks,’ I said again. ‘Can I drop Reece off at nine thirty? That will give me plenty of time to get to the school for ten o’clock.’
‘Sure. No problem. Tell Reece I’m looking forward to meeting him again. And I’ve lots of toys for him to play with.’
We said goodbye and I hung up. Then I went through to the living room. I waited until Lucy had come to the end of the story and they both looked up at me expectantly, aware it was time for Reece to go to bed.
‘Reece,’ I said, squatting just in front of him, ‘I have some good news.’
‘’Ave you, Cathy?’ he asked, his eyes growing wide with anticipation.
‘Yes. Now listen carefully.’ Lucy was listening carefully too. ‘You know how we have been waiting for a school for you to go to?’ He nodded. ‘Well, they have found one. The headmaster has just telephoned me and you will be able to start on Wednesday.’