a meeting in the morning.
‘Danny, time to go home with Cathy,’ Terri said, touching his hand.
Danny snatched his hand away and tucked it beneath his coat but didn’t say anything or look up. The police officer standing by the door answered his radio and we heard a female voice at the control centre ask if he and his colleague could attend an RTA (road traffic accident). The officer replied that they could, as Danny had been found safe and well. When he’d finished he joked to us: ‘That was my mum telling me dinner was ready,’ and I smiled.
‘Danny, time to go with Cathy now,’ Terri said again. ‘I’ll phone your mother and tell her you’re safe, then she’ll come to school to see you in the morning.’
Danny still didn’t move or speak. Clearly he had to come with me, so Terri lightly lifted his arm and began easing him away from the officer. Danny didn’t resist. I stepped forward ready to take him and Terri and the officer lifted Danny into my arms. As soon as his little body touched mine he wrapped his legs tightly around my waist, grabbed my coat sleeves and buried his head in my chest. I breathed a sigh of relief now that I had him safe. It was just a matter of getting him into my car and home. Some six-year-olds are quite heavy, and being of a slight build myself I would have had difficulty carrying them, but Danny was as light as a feather – too light for a child of his age, I thought.
‘We’ll see you to your car,’ said the police officer who’d been holding Danny.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘Here’s his bag,’ Terri said, passing a large canvas holdall to the officer.
‘I’ll phone your mother now,’ Terri said to Danny, staying behind. ‘See you in the morning.’
‘See you tomorrow in school,’ his teacher said to us as we began towards the classroom door.
‘Yes, see you tomorrow,’ I replied.
Danny didn’t make a sound, but his legs tightened around my waist and his fingers gripped my coat. ‘It’s going to be OK,’ I reassured him. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’
The officer standing by the classroom door held it open for me and I carried Danny out of the classroom and along the corridor. His teacher and social worker stayed behind. I would see them both at the meeting in the morning. The officers came with me and opened the main door and I stepped outside into the cold and dark again. Danny tightened his grip further and I held him close and talked to him gently, reassuring him that everything would be all right. I passed my car keys to the officer and he unlocked my car and opened the door. The officer holding Danny’s bag put it on the passenger seat and then they waited while I lifted Danny into the child’s car seat. He was still clinging desperately to me and I had to gently release his grip, all the time talking to him reassuringly. Once in the car seat he didn’t look at me but pulled his head down into his coat. I fastened his seatbelt, checked it and then straightened. The officers said goodbye to Danny before I closed the rear door.
‘Doesn’t say much, does he?’ the officer who’d been holding him remarked.
‘He’s scared stiff,’ I said. ‘Thank you for your help.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He handed me my keys and began towards the police car.
I opened the driver’s door and climbed in. Before I started the engine I turned and looked at Danny. ‘Try not to worry, love,’ I said. ‘It’s going to be all right.’
But Danny pulled his head further down into his coat, and I thought the sooner we were home the better.
Chapter Two
As I drove I glanced in the rear-view mirror to check if Danny was all right, but he kept his head down, buried deep in his coat, so I couldn’t see his face. I talked to him in a calm and reassuring manner, but he didn’t reply or say anything – not once. Even when I told him he’d be able to have ice cream and chocolate pudding for dessert, which would have elicited a response from most children, there was nothing from him. Nothing to say he’d even heard. I was relieved when we arrived home.
‘We’re here,’ I said to him as I pulled onto the drive.
I cut the engine, got out and walked round to the passenger side where I took Danny’s holdall from the seat and hooked it over my shoulder. I then opened Danny’s door, which was child-locked. ‘We’re here, love,’ I said again.
Danny remained silent and sat very still; he didn’t even raise his head to have a look at his new surroundings as I thought he might.
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about.’ I released his seatbelt.
As I slipped my arms around his waist to lift him out he leapt at me, wrapping his arms tightly around my neck and his legs around my waist as he had done before. I manoeuvred him out of the car and then pushed the door shut with my foot.
‘This is my home,’ I said. ‘It’s going to be your home too, for a while.’
I carried him across the drive to the front door and went in. ‘My son and my two daughters live here too,’ I said as I closed the door. ‘They’re looking forward to playing with you.’
Nothing. Danny clung to me in desperation, his head in my shoulder. I set his holdall on the floor, then lowered him into the chair by the telephone table. His arms and legs were still wrapped around me, so I had to gently release them.
‘Let’s take off our coats and shoes and then we’ll have something to eat,’ I said. I could smell the casserole I’d left in the oven and I hoped one of the children had remembered to switch it off.
Danny was sitting where I’d put him on the chair, motionless and with his chin pressed into his chest. I was starting to find his silence and complete lack of reaction to anything I said worrying. I knew from Jill that there were concerns about his language skills and general learning development, but there’d been no mention of deafness. Danny’s prolonged silence and indifference to the noises around him suggested a child who couldn’t hear. He wouldn’t be the first child I’d fostered who had hearing loss – either from birth or as a result of a trauma to the head – that hadn’t been diagnosed.
I took off my shoes and hung my coat on the hall stand. Then I began undoing the zipper on Danny’s coat, but as I did so he suddenly pulled back and hugged his coat tightly to him, clearly not wanting to take it off. ‘Are you cold?’ I asked him. He didn’t feel cold and the car had been very warm. He didn’t reply but clutched his coat to him as if for protection. ‘OK, let’s take off your shoes first then,’ I said easily.
I knelt down and unstuck the Velcro first from one shoe and then the other, and slid them off. Danny didn’t object, and I paired his shoes with ours beneath the coat stand. ‘We’ll leave your shoes here, ready for morning,’ I explained, but he didn’t respond.
Danny’s shoes, coat and what I could see of his school uniform beneath his coat appeared to be quite new and of good quality, unlike many of the children I’d fostered, who’d arrived in rags and with their toes poking through worn-out trainers. I now made another attempt to take off his coat, but he clung to it.
‘All
