to her eyes.
‘And we both know why he’s not here!’ Jackson retaliated.
There was a second’s pause before he suddenly jumped up, sending his chair clattering across the room, and stormed out, kicking the door shut behind him.
‘I’ll go after him,’ Frankie said, and left the room.
Kayla took a tissue from her bag and pressed it to her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to do with him any more. He’s so angry. He blames me for his father’s death.’
‘But why is he blaming you?’ I asked. ‘I thought your husband died of cancer.’
‘He did, but Jackson says I should have made him go to the doctor sooner. He’d been complaining of stomach pains after he’d eaten, but I thought it was just indigestion. We’re not a family that’s always running to the doctor. By the time they found the cancer it was too late. It had spread all over his body. He was dead three months after diagnosis – two years ago now.’
‘I am so sorry,’ I said, and felt my own eyes fill. ‘What a dreadful loss. But it wasn’t your fault.’
‘He was a good man. I loved him so much. Jackson wasn’t able to talk about his father or what he was feeling, and would storm off if he was mentioned. Then a year later Connor, my eldest son, took his own life, and Jackson fell apart. He blames me for his death too.’
Words failed me. Sometimes a person’s loss is so great that it’s impossible to find the words to express meaningful sympathy. ‘I am sorry,’ I said again quietly.
We were silent for a few moments and then I asked: ‘Has Jackson had any bereavement counselling? I know it can sometimes help.’
‘No. Our doctor suggested it, but he won’t go. He’s closed in on himself. The only way he expresses his loss is through anger. It builds up and then he explodes. My daughters are different. They talk about their dad and brother and say how much they miss them. They come with me to the cemetery, but Jackson won’t.’
‘I expect Frankie will suggest counselling. It’s usually with CAMHS – Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services.’
‘Yes, she’s mentioned it.’
‘I’ll do my best to get Jackson there.’
‘He needs something,’ Kayla said, dabbing her eyes. ‘I’m petrified he might do something silly and follow Connor.’
‘Has he told you he’s contemplated suicide?’ I asked, very concerned.
‘No, but I’ve lost one son that way – I know it’s possible – and Jackson was close to his brother, despite him being seven years older.’
‘You’ve told Frankie all of this?’
‘Yes.’
The door opened and Frankie returned. ‘Jackson is being looked after by a colleague,’ she said, and sat at the table. ‘I suggest we give him time to calm down, and then, when we’ve finished, he can go straight home with Cathy.’
Clearly arrangements had changed.
‘I haven’t brought any of his things with me,’ Kayla said. ‘I thought I’d have time to go home first.’ Then to me she said: ‘Jackson was supposed to be with my daughters, but he kicked off so badly I had to bring him with me.’
‘As Jackson is finding this all very difficult, I think it’s better he goes with Cathy now,’ Frankie said. ‘I can take you home so you can gather together what he needs for the next few days, then I’ll drop it off at Cathy’s later. Is that OK?’
Kayla nodded.
‘I’ve got spare clothes that will fit him,’ I said, ‘but obviously it’s better if Jackson can have his own. What’s happening about contact?’
‘I’d like to see him for a while every day,’ Kayla said.
I doubted this would be practical. ‘School returns next week,’ I pointed out, and I looked at Frankie.
‘Jackson will need time to settle in at Cathy’s,’ she said gently to Kayla. ‘And he’ll have school work to do. I suggest, to begin with, you see him for an hour after school on Monday, Wednesday and Friday and two hours at the weekend. Then we can review arrangements in a month or so.’
‘All right,’ Kayla said quietly. I made a note of the days.
‘Where is Jackson seeing his family?’ I asked.
‘At his home,’ Frankie said. ‘You will be able to take and collect him?’
‘Yes.’ The foster carer usually takes the child to and from contact as well as doing the school run. Carers who don’t drive use public transport or cabs. In exceptional circumstances the social services provide transport.
‘Will he be going to see his family straight after school?’ I asked. This was what usually happened.
‘Does that suit you?’ Frankie asked Kayla.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m guessing we’ll arrive around four o’clock,’ I said. Jackson’s home address and that of his school were on the placement information forms, so I knew the travelling time involved. ‘I’ll return to collect him at five?’ I clarified.
‘Yes, please,’ Frankie said.
‘And contact at the weekend?’ I asked. ‘Which day?’
‘Saturday, please,’ Kayla said. ‘He can come for lunch, but he can stay as long as he likes.’ I thought Kayla was now feeling guilty for placing her son in care.
‘I think we need to firm up a time for the weekend visit,’ Frankie sensibly said, ‘so Cathy knows when to collect him. Shall we say twelve till two?’
Kayla agreed. ‘But he can phone me any time,’ she said. ‘I’ve put credit on his phone.’
‘Perhaps you could phone on those days you’re not seeing each other?’ Frankie suggested. Although in practice, once a child has a mobile phone, this type of contact is virtually impossible to control. It’s not such a worry in cases like this where there are no safeguarding concerns (as far as we knew), but I knew of instances where a child was removed from home as a result of parental abuse and the parents continued to threaten the child over the phone, until the foster carer found out and reported it to the social worker and took away the phone.
‘Is there a parental control app on his phone?’ I now asked.
‘Yes,’ Kayla replied. ‘Connor set it up not long before he died. Connor always looked out for his young brother. He felt Jackson was too young to have a phone, as he’d had to wait until he was twelve.’ She smiled reflectively and I saw her eyes well up again.
With nothing further to discuss, Frankie suggested we go to collect Jackson; Kayla would then say goodbye and he would come home with me. I wasn’t expecting
