though I had an appointment to go to, but it was unsettling just waiting. Even after years of fostering, I’m still a little anxious before meeting a new child, especially if they are older, hoping they will like me and that I will be able to help them. I didn’t have Verity’s mobile number so at 1.45, when there was still no sign of her and Stevie, I telephoned her office.
‘She’s out seeing a client,’ a colleague told me.
‘Yes, that would be Stevie Jones,’ I said. ‘She was going to bring him to me for a pre-placement visit at one o’clock. I’m Cathy Glass, the foster carer he’s going to be living with.’
‘Oh, OK. She must have got held up.’
‘Would it be possible for you to phone her and ask what time she’ll be coming, please?’ I knew she wouldn’t give out a social worker’s telephone number without her permission.
‘Yes, I can, but if she’s with a client her phone will be on voicemail. I’ll leave a message asking her to phone you.’
‘Thank you.’
Half an hour later the landline rang and it was Verity. ‘Stevie is missing and hasn’t been since ten o’clock this morning.’
‘Oh dear, I see.’
‘There was an incident at home,’ Verity explained. ‘Stevie was planning on going out for the day and his gran asked him to stay in, as I was coming to see him. He got angry and said he didn’t want to see his effing social worker and stormed off out. Gran hasn’t seen him since.’
‘That’s worrying.’
‘Yes. Gran thinks he’ll be back before long – when he’s hungry – but I can’t wait here indefinitely. I’ve told her I’ll give it another fifteen minutes and then we’ll have to reschedule.’
‘All right, you’ll let me know?’
‘Yes, of course.’
While I was concerned that Stevie had disappeared, he wasn’t my responsibility yet, and his gran seemed to think he’d return soon. If a young person regularly runs away, as Stevie had been doing, there often isn’t the same sense of urgency as there would be if a child or young person with no history of running away suddenly went missing. Complacency can be dangerous, as it might be the one time they need help. Foster carers follow a set procedure if a child or young person in their care goes missing, which includes informing the social services and the police.
By three o’clock when I’d heard nothing further from Verity I guessed they wouldn’t be coming, and Paula and I continued our day as normal. Just after four o’clock Edith phoned asking how Stevie’s visit had gone. I explained what had happened and that I was waiting to hear from Verity with the new arrangements. She wished me luck and we said goodbye. Edith had been my supervising social worker (SSW) for nearly a year and was different from my previous SSW, Jill, whom I’d worked with for many years. She’d retired when the Independent Fostering Agency (IFA) she worked for had closed its local office, so I’d begun fostering for the local authority (LA). Jill was always very well informed and would offer hands-on support if necessary, whereas Edith tended to concentrate on the administrative side of her role, but we jogged along together OK.
Adrian and Lucy came home from work expecting to hear how Stevie’s visit had gone, and I explained over dinner that he hadn’t arrived and why, then listened to their news. ‘I hope you haven’t been watching television all day,’ Lucy teased me.
‘As if!’
I went to bed that night assuming the meeting the following morning at 11 a.m., when I was to meet Stevie and his grandparents, wouldn’t be going ahead. However, just after 9 a.m. Verity phoned and said that Stevie had returned home late the previous evening and she’d see me at the meeting as planned at the council offices.
‘OK,’ I said, gulping down the last of my coffee. ‘What about the pre-placement visit?’
‘We’ll have to skip that, there isn’t time. After the meeting I’ll go back with Stevie and his grandparents and then bring Stevie to you. I’ve asked his gran to pack a bag ready for him.’
‘So Stevie knows he’s coming to live with us?’
‘Yes. When he finally returned home late last night his grandfather, Fred, was angry he’d caused them so much worry and blurted it out. It wasn’t the best way to tell him, but at least he knows.’
‘And Stevie’s OK with it?’
‘Apparently. His gran told him he’ll get more pocket money with you and he can visit them whenever he likes, but we’ll have to look at contact arrangements.’
‘Thank you.’ Verity knew as I did that while it was important Stevie had regular contact with his grandparents and siblings, it would stop him from settling with me if he felt he could pop home whenever he wished. It would also be difficult to keep an eye on him and know where he was.
Although I had showered, I was dressed casually, and I quickly changed into a smarter outfit – navy trousers and pale blue jersey. I was going to meet Stevie, his grandparents and Verity for the first time, so I wanted to create a good impression. As a foster carer I viewed myself as a professional and felt it was appropriate to dress smartly for all meetings. I also put a notepad and pen into my bag together with a small photograph album that showed pictures of my house, my family and me, which I would show to Stevie and his grandparents. It would mean that it wasn’t all strange for Stevie when he arrived and would hopefully reassure his grandparents.
Paula was up but in her dressing gown, as college didn’t start again until the following week, so I told her where I was going and that I’d see her later.
I arrived at the council offices with ten minutes to spare and parked in a side road. I signed in at reception, hung the security pass around my neck and made my way up to the room where the meeting was to be held. I wasn’t expecting to see Edith at the meeting. When I’d worked for Homefinders – the IFA I’d fostered for – Jill had attended most meetings with me, but the local authority’s supervising social workers didn’t.
The room was empty and I sat in one of the chairs arranged around the table in the centre, and took out my notepad, pen and photograph album, hoping I’d been given the right room number. It was exactly eleven o’clock. I’d wait five minutes, then go down to reception and check. The time ticked by and I could hear movement in the corridor outside. Presently a woman came in carrying a large file and a mobile phone. ‘Cathy Glass, the foster carer?’ she asked.
‘Yes, that’s me.’ I smiled.
‘I’m Verity Meldrew, Stevie’s social worker. Nice to meet you.’
‘You too.’ She sat opposite me.
‘Stevie and his grandparents are on their way,’ she said.
‘Good.’
Of average height and build, I guessed Verity was in her late thirties. Her manner came across as confident but approachable. ‘How are you? All set to go?’ she asked.
‘Yes, indeed. My family and I are looking forward to meeting Stevie.’ Although in truth I was feeling anxious again and the delay wasn’t helping.
