Adrian took the bags Alex was holding from him so he could take off his coat. The poor lad looked even more bewildered now than he had done yesterday. ‘Are you OK, love?’ I asked him as he stood immobile, making no attempt to take off his coat or trainers. He nodded. ‘You’ll soon feel at home,’ I reassured him with a smile.

‘Is this my new home?’ he asked.

‘For now, yes.’

‘But you’re not my new mummy?’

‘No, love. I’m your new foster carer. You should be meeting your new mummy and daddy in a week or so.’

He nodded again and then began unzipping his parka. Slipping it off, he handed it to me and I hung it on the hall stand with our coats. Graham returned with more bags and set them in the hall beside the suitcases. He also handed me a folder containing the paperwork I needed.

‘Do you want his bike in here or shall I take it round the back?’ Graham asked me.

‘In here, please. Alex can help me put it in the shed later.’ It was important Alex saw where his new bike was going so he knew it was safe.

‘Shall we play with some of your toys?’ Adrian asked, peering into the carrier bag.

Alex gave a small nod and, picking up the bag, followed Adrian down the hall and into the living room. Paula ran after them. Graham returned with Alex’s bike and some more bags, which we stacked in the hall. There was hardly any room to move. Children who’ve been in care a while tend to acquire many possessions – as much if not more than the average child – as carers try to compensate for the depravation of their early years before coming into care. Graham brought in the last of the bags and I was pleased to be able to close the front door against the cold winter air.

‘I’ll just say goodbye to Alex and then I’ll be off,’ Graham said, aware that it was advisable to keep his leave-taking short.

I went with him to the living room, where the children were sitting in a small circle on the floor playing with Alex’s toys. Toscha was asleep on the sofa.

‘Bye then, mate,’ Graham said from just inside the door. ‘Be good.’

Alex didn’t turn or speak. ‘Say goodbye to Graham,’ I said.

‘Bye,’ Alex said, but he kept his back to Graham and I knew he was feeling rejected.

I could see Graham was a little surprised, even hurt, by Alex’s reaction, perhaps expecting a hug or even tears, but it’s a trauma for a child to have to move home when they’re settled and Alex was stating how he felt. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said quietly to Graham. ‘He’ll be fine soon.’

‘Bye then, mate,’ Graham said again, and then, with no response from Alex, he returned down the hall.

I went with him to see him out. ‘I hope everything goes well with the pregnancy,’ I said.

‘Yes, thanks.’ And he was gone, although I knew that the memory of Alex would stay with Graham for a long time, probably forever, just as Alex would remember them, hopefully in a positive light.

Today was all about settling Alex in and unpacking his belongings, so I hadn’t planned an outing. After Graham left I checked that the children were still playing happily in the living room, then I carried Alex’s suitcases up to his bedroom one at a time. I returned downstairs again for some of his bags of toys and took those up too. I would suggest to Alex that he kept some of his toys in his bedroom and some downstairs to play with, as Adrian, Paula and the other children I’d fostered did. With the hall much clearer I went into the living room and sat with the children for a while and watched them play, then Alex said he needed to use the bathroom so I went with him upstairs to show him where it was, and waited on the landing until he’d finished. As he passed his bedroom he looked in.

‘Will I be sleeping in there tonight?’ he asked.

‘Yes, love. I’ll unpack your cases soon.’

We returned downstairs and I made the children a drink and a snack, which we had at the table, with Alex sitting in his place next to Adrian. Everyone was very quiet and on their best behaviour, but I knew from experience that it wouldn’t take long before they felt more comfortable with each other. Once we’d finished eating the children wanted to continue playing in the living room. As they were playing nicely – Adrian was sharing his toys with Alex and Alex was sharing his with Adrian and Paula – I said I’d go and unpack Alex’s bags and they should call for me if they needed me. I wouldn’t have left all the children I’d fostered unattended on their first day, but Alex didn’t have any behavioural issues and appeared responsible, as was Adrian, so I felt OK leaving them with Paula. Adrian knew to fetch me if there was a problem.

With school in the morning I wanted to be organized, so I began by unpacking the case that Graham had said contained Alex’s school uniform and his casual clothes for winter. I hung them in the wardrobe and then arranged his underwear and socks in a drawer. I placed a pair of his pyjamas on his bed ready for later and hung his dressing gown on the hook on the back of his door. I took his towel and wash bag into the bathroom, where I placed his towel next to ours on the rail and set his wash bag on the shelf within his reach. I listened on the landing for the children and could hear them still playing, so I returned to Alex’s bedroom. With the first case empty I opened the second but, as Graham had said, it contained Alex’s summer clothes so I closed it again and then put both cases out of the way on top of the wardrobe.

One of the bags I’d brought up contained soft toys and I arranged these on Alex’s bed and on one of the shelves. Another bag contained more toys and I emptied it into the toy box. There were another couple of new toy boxes downstairs ready for the toys Alex might want to keep in the living room. Although Alex was only staying for a few weeks, it was important he felt comfortable and ‘at home’ and wasn’t living out of cases. Satisfied his bedroom was now looking more welcoming and lived in, I took his slippers downstairs. Alex and Adrian were just coming out of the living room to take another of Alex’s bags of toys through to play with.

‘Before you do that let’s put your bike away,’ I suggested. ‘It’s a lovely bike – you are lucky.’

‘Father Christmas bought it for me,’ Alex said with a small smile.

Adrian wanted to come and help put the bike in the shed, and then of course Paula, not wanting to be left out, arrived in the hall and said she did too. We all put on our coats and shoes and Alex carefully wheeled his bike down the hall, through the kitchen, and then Adrian helped him out with it through the back door. Our garden is long and narrow, with a patio at the top and then mainly grass to the shed at the very bottom. ‘Shall I ride my bike to the shed?’ Alex asked, clearly wanting to.

‘Yes.’

He carefully mounted the bike and then rode confidently to the bottom of the garden, where he dismounted. We caught up. ‘If the weather is good next weekend we could take the bikes to the park,’ I suggested.

‘Yes!’ Adrian said, and Alex nodded enthusiastically.

I unlocked the shed door and Adrian helped Alex in with his bike and rested it carefully next to his and Paula’s. There were other garden toys here too, stored for winter.

‘My bike’s got more wheels,’ Paula said, referring to the stabilizers.

‘Otherwise she falls off,’ Adrian said with a giggle to Alex.

‘Your bike had stabilizers too when you were very little and were learning to ride,’ I reminded Adrian. ‘I expect Alex used them as well. Many children do.’

We returned indoors and the children continued playing in the living room and sharing their toys nicely. At present, playing together and discovering each other’s toys was a novelty, but I knew it was quite possible that after a while the novelty might wear off and squabbles could break out, just as in any sibling or friendship group. Experience had taught me that this was more likely with similar-aged children of the same sex, as Alex and Adrian were. They were either inseparable and best buddies or arguing over the same toy. Generally, if there is a choice of carers then foster children are placed with carers where there aren’t already children of the same age, especially if they are staying long term. But often there isn’t a choice, as there is always a shortage of foster carers, and as this wasn’t long term I didn’t envisage too many problems.

The rest of the afternoon passed happily, and when I called everyone to dinner Alex went straight to his place at the table, far more relaxed and confident, as indeed Adrian and Paula were; everyone was thawing out. We talked as we ate and it was only natural that at some point Alex was going to mention his adoptive family, whom he had been told a bit about and was looking forward to meeting for the first time.

‘I’m going to have a forever mummy and daddy,’ he said. ‘I used to just have a mummy, but she can’t look after me.’ I nodded. ‘Graham says my daddy will do lots of things with me, like playing football. Do you have a daddy?’ he asked Adrian.

I saw Adrian’s face fall. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly.

‘But he doesn’t live with us,’ I added, saving Adrian the embarrassment of having to say it.

‘Daddy takes us out and buys us sweets,’ Paula put in.

‘That’s nice,’ Alex said, and began talking about the sweets he’d had for Christmas. Although Alex’s question was entirely innocent, I knew Adrian struggled at moments like this. It had taken him months to admit to his best friend that his father wasn’t living with us any more, and many of his friends at school still didn’t know. Adrian perceived a stigma where others did not, and while it greatly saddened me that he had been placed in this position, there was nothing I could do about it beyond supporting him as he adjusted to having an absent father, as many children now have to do.

After dinner I checked I had everything ready for the following morning. Alex’s school bag was in the hall beside Adrian’s, his school coat was on the hall stand with our coats, and his school shoes were paired beneath the stand with our shoes. Alex had school dinners, as did Adrian, so I didn’t have to make any packed lunches. As we would need to rise early in the morning for our new school run I began the children’s bath and bedtime routine just before seven o’clock that Sunday. I read Paula some stories and then, leaving the boys playing, I took her up for her bath and settled her into bed with her favourite cuddly – a velvety soft furry rabbit, which her father had bought as one of her Christmas presents.

I returned downstairs for Alex. He was used to a similar bath and bedtime routine at his previous foster carers’. ‘What shall I do with all my toys?’ he asked. They were strewn across the living-room floor and Adrian had begun to pack his away into the new toy boxes.

‘I have just what you need,’ I said with a smile, and I brought in the new toy boxes. ‘You can put your toys in these and then you’ll be able to take them with you when you leave us.’ Which is what I usually did so the children I fostered left me with their toys in boxes and their clothes neatly packed in cases. I only use plastic bags as a very last resort as I feel it’s degrading for a child to move home with their belongings in carrier bags and bin liners.

Once the boys had packed away Alex said goodnight to Adrian and I took him upstairs, firstly to his bedroom to fetch his pyjamas. He liked the way I’d arranged his soft toys on his bed and shelf and the toys in the toy box.

‘Can I take that toy box with me as well?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

He was pleased. Plastic toy boxes aren’t expensive but the children love having their own, and of course they help to keep the rooms tidy. I showed him where I’d put his pyjamas and dressing gown and he carried them round to the bathroom, where I ran his bath to the right temperature. I pointed out the laundry basket where he could put his dirty clothes and then, to give him some privacy, I waited on the landing while he washed and dried himself. Once he was in his pyjamas I waited while he cleaned his teeth. I wouldn’t leave a child of his age to just get on with it, especially on their first night, although his self-care skills were very good. We returned round the landing to his bedroom, where I asked him, as I always do when a child first arrives, if he liked to sleep with his curtains open or closed. He said closed. Similarly I asked him if he slept with the light on or off. He said off, and with his bedroom door left open a little. Small details, but their familiarity and the comfort they give to the child help them settle in a strange room. I told Alex that I always left a night light on the landing so he could see where he was going if he needed the toilet, but to call out to me if he woke in the night, as I didn’t want him wandering around by himself. Before climbing into bed he chose one of his soft toys to sleep with – Simba from the Walt Disney film The Lion King. I asked him if that was his favourite, but he said he didn’t have a favourite and just chose a different one each night. Once he was snuggled beneath the duvet with Simba beside him, I said goodnight and then asked him if he’d like a kiss and a hug. He shook his head shyly.

‘It’s OK. You don’t have to,’ I said with a smile. I always ask the child, otherwise it’s an invasion of their personal space to suddenly be kissed or hugged by an adult if they’re not comfortable with it. Some children are very tactile and want hugs and kisses as soon as they arrive, while others wait until they know me better.

‘Sandy used to kiss me goodnight,’ Alex said quietly. ‘But I’ll wait for my proper mummy to do it.’ Which was very revealing. Alex had been close to his previous carers and felt their rejection. He wasn’t going to risk making an emotional investment in me straight away; he was saving it for his adoptive parents, whom he could rely on. ‘When will I meet her?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure yet. I’ll know more when I’ve spoken to your social worker tomorrow.’

He smiled wistfully, his little face peeping over the duvet. ‘I hope it’s soon.’

‘It shouldn’t be long.’ My heart went out to him. He was so looking forward to having a family of his own forever, which, of course, most of us take for granted.

Having said goodnight I came out, leaving the door slightly open, and checked on Paula. She was fast asleep, on her side and cuddled up to her soft toy rabbit. I called Adrian up for his bath, and once he was in bed I lay propped beside him on the pillow and we had our usual bedtime chat before we hugged and kissed goodnight. I came out, closing his door as he preferred, and went downstairs. I took the folder Graham had given me from the front room, made a cup of tea and then settled on the sofa in the living room next to Toscha.

With my tea within reach I opened the folder, which contained the information Graham and Sandy – as Alex’s carers – had received on Alex. On top was a handwritten note: ‘The planning meeting on Wednesday is at 11 a.m. at the council offices. Good luck. Sandy.’ I immediately fetched my diary and wrote in the time and venue. I’d have to ask a friend to collect Paula from nursery, as she finished at twelve. I knew the meeting would last at least an hour and then I had the twenty-minute or so drive from the council offices to the nursery. Setting my diary to one side, I began going through Alex’s paperwork. The most recent was on top: the minutes of Alex’s last review. Children in care have regular reviews to make sure that everything is being done as it should to help the child, and that their care plan is up to date. I glanced through the pages. They were more or less what I would have expected, just an update on his previous review three months before. Sandy had been present at his last review, together with her support social worker, Alex’s social worker, his teacher and the independent reviewing officer who chaired and minuted the meeting. Alex’s care plan at the time had been to remain with Graham and Sandy until he moved to his adoptive parents’, but it had all changed since then, culminating in him being placed temporarily with me. I wondered if there’d be a review while Alex was with me; it’s usual when a child moves.

I turned the pages and scanned down the copy of Alex’s school report – he was making good progress – then the medical and health checks, a copy of the court order that had brought him into care and miscellaneous paper work. Going further back I found a copy of the minutes of the previous review, from which I learned that Alex had had supervised contact once a week with his mother at the contact centre, but it had been stopped (three months ago) in preparation for Alex being adopted. While this was usual practice for a child who was going to be adopted – to sever any existing bond with his birth family before introducing him to his adoptive parents – it stung my heart as it always did. I could picture that traumatic and distressing scene as Alex’s mother said goodbye to her son for the very last time and then had to watch him walk away, never to see him again. While I appreciated that everything would have been done to try to enable his mother to keep Alex, and that the judge would not have made the order without very good reason, it was nevertheless still heartbreaking. How any mother ever comes to terms with losing her child or children I’ll never know. Possibly many don’t and are never able to rebuild their lives and move on. It made me go cold just thinking about it. Losing a child for any reason is truly the stuff of nightmares.

I continued turning the pages – more reviews and school reports. Alex had been in care a long time, so there was a lot of paperwork. Then nearer the back I found the essential information form, which included a résumé of Alex’s early life and the circumstances that had brought him into care. I read that he had been badly neglected as a baby. His mother had mental-health problems and was drug dependent. Alex had never known his father – little wonder he was so looking forward to meeting his adoptive father, I thought. Alex had been in and out of care for the first three years of his life and had remained in care since then, but that wasn’t the end of his unsettled life, for since being in care permanently he’d had to move home a number of times. I couldn’t find the exact number or the reasons for the moves, but the foster carers’ names on the minutes of the reviews kept changing, and reference was made at the review to the most recent move. Sometimes children in care have to move and it’s unavoidable – for example, a child with very challenging behaviour may be placed with inexperienced carers who simply can’t cope – but Alex didn’t have challenging behaviour as far as I knew.

Since publishing my fostering memoirs I’ve received many emails from young adults who were in care and had repeated moves. Some have lost count of the number of different foster homes they lived in, and are now trying to deal with the fallout of such an unsettled childhood: insecurity, anger, panic attacks, depression, irrational fears, lack of confidence and low self-worth are a few of the issues. True, some care leavers email me to say their experience in care was a very good one and they’re grateful to their carers who loved and looked after them as their own, but not all. In a developed society like ours, which prides itself on being caring, we tend to think that if a child can’t live with their natural parents then our social-care system will step in and look after them, giving them the love, care and security that their parents failed to, but sadly sometimes they are failed by the care system too. And to make matters worse for little Alex, I now read that he’d been born in prison and had spent the first six months of his life there while his mother completed her sentence. It didn’t say what crime she had committed. It was all so very sad.

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