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 shook his head, although I knew he must have plenty.
‘Would you like to see the rest of the house?’ I asked. I usually show the child around early on as it helps them settle and feel at home. Jackson shook his head again. ‘Maybe later then. What would you like to do now?’
He ignored me.
‘I was thinking of making a lasagne for dinner. Do you like that?’
‘Not fussed.’
‘OK, but I don’t want you sitting up here by yourself.’
‘Can if I want,’ he replied.
Despite his bravado, I felt sorry for him. He looked so lost and alone, sitting there on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped forward, pretending he didn’t care. I’d seen children before trying to put on a brave face when they were scared and hurting inside. His mother had said he wouldn’t talk to her about his feelings, but not opening up was only prolonging the agony for him. I was about to suggest he come down and sit in the living room when his phone rang.
‘It’s Mum,’ he said, his face brightening a little. But instead of answering, he rejected the call.
‘Why did you do that?’
‘I don’t want to talk to her.’
‘Couldn’t you just say hello and let her know you’re all right?’ I suggested.
He didn’t reply.
‘I’ll give her a ring then,’ I said. ‘She’ll be worried about you.’
‘No, she won’t,’ he retaliated.
‘Jackson, I know you’re feeling rejected. But your mother loves you and will be missing you a lot. You all need some time and space to get through this, but she has feelings too. She’s grieving like you and your sisters are, but she’s having to hold your family together as well.’
‘We’re not a family any more!’ Jackson snapped, and I could hear the pain in his voice.
‘You are a family, love, just a different one. I know this isn’t exactly the same – my husband didn’t die, but he left us many years ago when Adrian and Paula were little. We all had to adjust to life without him, difficult though it was, so we could see a way forward. In time and with counselling, you will be able to see a future too.’ I had no idea if I was saying the right thing, as I’d never experienced the devastating bereavement Jackson had, so I was relying on common sense.
Jackson didn’t say anything, but he must have heard what I’d said. Hopefully he would think about it and know I was there for him, just as his mother was.
A knock sounded on his bedroom door – I’d left it ajar – and Tilly appeared. ‘Hi, I’m in care too,’ she said to Jackson. She was bright and sparkly and wanting to help, but the timing was wrong.
‘So?’ Jackson said under his breath.
‘I’m just saying. I thought it would help.’
I threw her a reassuring smile. Jackson’s phone rang again and this time he accepted the call. ‘What do you want, Mum?’ he asked, his voice flat. But at least he’d answered.
‘Come on,’ I said quietly to Tilly. ‘We’ll leave Jackson to talk to his mother.’
We went out and I drew the door to but didn’t completely close it. I went with Tilly into her room. ‘He’s very moody,’
