parents didn’t own a car (not uncommon for children in care) the child had usually been a passenger in the car of a relative or friend’s parents; usually someone the child knew owned a car. But I believed Aimee when she said her first experience of riding in a car had been the day before, for her curiosity and questions about my car and driving it seemed to confirm this and were unstoppable: ‘What’s that blue light for?’ ‘Why’s that number moving?’ ‘Why you holding that stick?’ ‘I can hear a clicking!’ ‘There’s an orange light flashing!’ And so on and so on.
Although I was happy to answer Aimee’s questions, I soon began finding her constant dialogue very distracting while I was trying to drive through the traffic. A few minutes later I asked her to sit quietly and save her questions for when I’d stopped, as I needed to concentrate on driving. She did briefly and then began a running commentary on what was happening outside her window: ‘There’s a man with a big dog.’ ‘That girl’s going to school.’ ‘I saw a bird, Cathy!’ ‘Look at that lady’s hair! Cathy! Look! Look!’
‘I can’t look, love,’ I said more firmly. ‘I’m driving. I have to concentrate on driving or we’ll have an accident. Let’s listen to some music.’ I switched on the CD player, which still contained a CD of popular children’s songs and nursery rhymes from the last child I’d looked after. Aimee listened and then I said, ‘I expect you know most of these nursery rhymes?’
‘No,’ Aimee replied.
So I guessed Aimee’s parents hadn’t recited, sung or read nursery rhymes to her as a child, although I thought she would have seen them in children’s programmes on television.
‘Your mum and dad had a television, didn’t they?’ I said, glancing in the rear-view mirror.
‘Yeah, a great big telly,’ Aimee said. ‘A lot bigger than yours.’
‘Didn’t you watch children’s programmes like CBeebies?’
‘Na, they’re silly,’ Aimee sneered.
‘What did you watch, then?’ I asked, half anticipating her reply would include a list of adult programmes.
‘Me and me mum watched EastEnders and horror films,’ Aimee said. ‘There was one about a woman who got chopped up with a big axe. First the man chopped off her arms and all blood spurted out of her shoulders, but she kept on walking ’cos she was a zombie. Then the man stabbed her in the face so her eyes came out, then he chopped off her head and it rolled on the floor and there was all blood spurting out of her neck and you could see her brain on the floor and –’
‘All right, Aimee, that’s enough, thank you. I understand,’ I said, my stomach churning. Many parents don’t realize the damage that can be done in allowing young impressionable minds to watch such horrific images.
‘EastEnders is on tonight,’ Aimee added, as I pulled up outside the school.
‘So I believe,’ I said. ‘But we won’t be watching it.’
‘I will!’ Aimee said.
‘Not while you’re living with me. That programme is for adults. You will be able to watch children’s programmes.’
Aimee pulled a face. ‘What about Texas Chainsaw Massacre or Friday the 13th? You got those DVDs?’ she asked.
‘No. But I have got Mary Poppins, Toy Story, The Jungle Book, The Lion King and many others that are nice.’
‘Never heard of them,’ Aimee scoffed.
‘You will, love, I promise.’
The path that led to the school’s main reception took us past the school playground.
Aimee pointed to children who’d arrived at school early and were playing. ‘What are those kids doing?’ she asked.
‘Playing,’ I said, feeling I was stating the obvious.
‘They should be in their classrooms,’ Aimee said.
‘Not at this time. There’s ten minutes before the bell goes for the start of school.’
Aimee frowned, puzzled, and we continued to the main door, where I pressed the security buzzer. The door was opened a minute later by a very pleasant lady, who smiled a warm hello. ‘Good to see you, Aimee,’ she said. ‘Your hair looks nice.’ Then to me: ‘I’m the school secretary. Do come in.’
‘I’m Cathy Glass, Aimee’s foster carer,’ I said. ‘I expect you know she came to me yesterday evening?’
‘Yes. How is she?’
‘Doing very well,’ I said, glancing at Aimee. ‘I thought I’d come into school this morning to make sure you had my contact details, and also if possible to meet Aimee’s teacher or the designated teacher.’
‘Lynn Burrows is the designated teacher,’ the school secretary said. ‘She asked me to let her know when you came in. Take a seat and I’ll fetch her.’
I thanked her and she disappeared through the double doors that led into the main body of the school while Aimee and I sat on the chairs in reception.
‘She said my hair was nice,’ Aimee said, running her fingers through her hair.
‘It was worth all the pain and suffering, then?’ I said lightly, with a smile.
‘No it wasn’t,’ Aimee retorted. ‘And you ain’t doing it again!’
We’ll see about that, I thought, but didn’t say. I’d already discovered that Aimee automatically rejected or contradicted most of what I said – presumably as a result of there being no boundaries at home – so I let it go, although Aimee would be doing as she was told while she was with me.
‘Look at you! Don’t you look nice!’ A lady said, coming through the double doors a few minutes later. ‘I wouldn’t have recognized you, Aimee.’
I thought she might, as Aimee was still wearing the clothes she’d arrived in, but Aimee smiled, pleased by the second compliment within a few minutes of arriving.
‘Lynn Burrows, designated teacher,’ the woman said as I stood. We shook hands. ‘Pleased to meet you, Cathy.’
‘And you.’
‘Let’s go to my office for a chat. I’m also the school’s SENCO, so they give me an office of my own,’ she added with a small laugh. The SENCO (Special Educational Needs Coordinator) helps children with special needs and also often assumes the role of designated teacher.
‘Did you sleep well?’ Lynn now asked Aimee as we made our way down the corridor.
Aimee didn’t answer; she was more interested in the playground, which we could see through the windows on the right of the corridor. ‘Mrs Burrows, can I go in the playground with the other kids?’ she said, pausing at one of the windows. ‘Please, I haven’t been there before.’
‘I don’t see why not,’ Lynn said as we drew to a halt. Then to me: ‘It’ll give us a chance to talk in private. I’ll just ask the playground
