A Life Lost. Cathy Glass

I was even more anxious now. If Jackson felt he could behave like this with all of us present and in front of an open-plan office full of social workers, what chance did I have of controlling his behaviour when it was just him and me? I shuddered at the thought. Sometimes a child’s behaviour is so challenging that they can’t live in a foster home and have to go to a therapeutic children’s home to receive the help they need.

      We went down a second flight of stairs and arrived in reception. Aaron and the security guard had Jackson standing between them. We went over.

      ‘Thank you,’ Frankie said to the guard and Aaron.

      But at that moment the main doors automatically opened as someone came in and Jackson seized the opportunity and shot out. Kayla let out a small cry. Aaron went after him, followed by Frankie, Kayla and me. There was a busy main road not far away, but thankfully Aaron managed to stop Jackson before he got there. Lightly holding his arm, he began to talk to him, trying to calm him down.

      ‘Aaron is one of our outreach workers,’ Frankie told me and Kayla.

      We waited a little way off as Aaron continued to talk to Jackson and slowly he seemed to calm down. Aaron took his hand from Jackson’s arm and continued talking to him in a low, even tone. Kayla’s phone bleeped with a text.

      ‘I need to go,’ she said anxiously as she read the message. ‘I promised my neighbour I’d be back by four-thirty to collect my daughters. I’ll catch the bus.’

      ‘I’ll wait until Jackson is on his way to Cathy’s,’ Frankie said. ‘Then I’ll come to see you later.’

Kayla went over to say goodbye to Jackson, but he turned his back. The poor woman – I felt so sorry for her. I instinctively wanted to tell Jackson not to be so rude to his mother, but he’d only just calmed down and I knew it would do more harm than good. Kayla seemed used to his rudeness and went on her way to catch the bus.

      ‘Where is your car?’ Frankie asked me.

      ‘Parked in a side road about a five-minute walk away.’

      ‘Could you bring it here? It might be easier to get Jackson in.’

      I could see why Frankie thought that would work better than walking him to where my car was parked. There is a drop-off/collection bay at the front of the council building that takes one car at a time.

      But as I went to fetch my car, I again wondered how I was going to manage Jackson when it was just him and me. I was already stressed; my heart was pounding. It’s always a bit nerve-racking meeting a child and their parents for the first time, but this was far worse than usual. Not because of Kayla – she was lovely. It was Jackson. I’d looked after children before with challenging behaviour, but his habit of bolting when he was angry or upset was very unsafe for him and difficult to control.

Arriving at my car, I engaged the child-locks on the rear doors so they could only be opened from the outside, just in case Jackson had any plans to make a dash for it if I stopped at traffic lights. I drove to the council offices, wondering if I was taking on more than I could manage, but then I chided myself. Jackson was only ten. He was angry and upset because his father and brother had died. I needed to concentrate on helping him through the grieving process so that hopefully he would eventually come to terms with his sad loss.

      As I pulled into the collection bay at the front of the council offices, Frankie and Aaron came forward with Jackson between them. Setting my face to an encouraging smile, I got out.

      ‘OK, love?’ I said to Jackson, opening the rear door. ‘It’s about a twenty-minute journey to my house.’

      He hesitated, glanced around, but then got in. I breathed a sigh of relief, as I’m sure Frankie and Aaron did.

      ‘Look after yourself,’ Aaron said.

      ‘I’ll see you later,’ Frankie told Jackson. But he was already concentrating on his phone.

      I closed the rear door and got into the driving seat as Frankie and Aaron returned to the council offices.

      ‘Can you put on your seatbelt, please?’ I said to Jackson, fastening my own. He ignored me so I turned in my seat to face him and said more firmly, ‘Jackson, you need to put on your seatbelt, love.’

      He ignored me for a while longer and then, annoyed, did as I’d asked, ramming the metal tongue into the buckle.

      ‘Well done,’ I said. Before pulling away I quickly texted Paula and Tilly, who were at home, to say we were on our way.

As I drove, I periodically glanced in my rear-view mirror at Jackson, checking he was all right. I talked to him, trying to put him at ease, and asked him about his school and friends. He didn’t reply, look up or make eye contact in the mirror, but kept his head down, concentrating on his phone. It was only when I pulled onto the drive at my house that he finally spoke.

      ‘I’m not staying here,’ he said. ‘I’ll run away.’ He tugged hard on his door handle. ‘You’ve locked me in!’

      ‘I keep it locked for when I transport younger children,’ I said, bending the truth slightly. ‘Stay there and I’ll open it for you.’

      I got out and went round. At the same time our front door opened and Tilly and Paula appeared.

      ‘Hello,’ I said with a brightness I didn’t feel, and opened Jackson’s door. ‘Come and meet Paula and Tilly.’

      As Jackson got out, I saw his gaze flicker up and down the street. Our small driveway was open plan, so there was nothing to stop him running off.

      ‘Come on, this way,’ I said feigning confidence.

      ‘Hi, Jackson,’ Tilly called enthusiastically from the front door.

      He ignored her but did come with me into the house. I quickly closed the front door.

      ‘This is Tilly, who is also staying with us, and my daughter Paula,’ I said.

      ‘Hi, how are you, Jackson?’ Tilly asked. Then she looked hurt when he ignored her. Paula, on the other hand, having grown up with fostering, appreciated that our new arrivals often needed time to settle in and adjust.

      ‘Would you like a drink and a snack?’ I asked him. ‘Or to see your bedroom first?’

      He shrugged.

      ‘I can show you your room,’ Tilly offered.

      ‘No. I’ll see it myself,’ he replied grumpily, and began upstairs.

‘It’s on the right,’ I said, going after him.

      As we went into his room, I heard Tilly say to Paula, ‘He’s so rude.’

      I guessed Paula would explain and I would have a chat with Tilly too, later.

      ‘The room is a bit bare, but it will look better once you have some of your belongings in it,’ I said to Jackson. ‘Frankie is going to collect them and bring them here later.’

      He went over to the window, glanced out, then sat on the bed and concentrated on his phone.

      ‘Are you playing a game?’ I asked him, trying to establish some communication. I’d caught glimpses of the screen and thought that might be so, although I doubted Jackson was getting much pleasure from the game. It seemed more like mindless tapping as a displacement for what he was really thinking and feeling.

      He didn’t reply so, going over, I said, ‘I know it’s difficult, love. You’ve suffered a great loss and now you’re having to live in a strange house with people you don’t know. It will get easier, I promise, and I am here to help you.’

      ‘I don’t need your help,’ he said resentfully.

      ‘I think we all need help sometimes. Do you have any questions you would like to ask me now?’

      He