Saving Danny - Cathy Glass

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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.

       Meticulous

      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 right, love,’ I said. ‘Leave it on for now, although I think you’re going to be hot in the house. The heating is on.’

      Danny didn’t answer, nor did he look at me. He kept his chin down, his little face expressionless. But any thoughts I’d entertained about him being deaf now vanished. Upstairs Paula opened her bedroom door. Danny heard it and looked up anxiously. ‘That’s Paula,’ I said to him. ‘One of my daughters.’

      He lowered his head again.

      ‘Come and meet Danny,’ I called to Paula, and she came downstairs. ‘He’s feeling a bit lonely at present, but I’m sure he’ll be fine once he gets to know us all.’

      ‘Hello, Danny,’ Paula said softly, going up to him. ‘How are you?’

      His head was down but he gave the smallest of nods. It was the first sign of recognition from him and I was pleased. ‘Well done, Paula,’ I said.

      ‘The dinner was ready, Mum, so I switched off the oven,’ she said.

      ‘Thanks, love. I was longer than I thought I’d be.’

      ‘And Jill telephoned,’ Paula said. ‘Lucy answered it. Jill thought you’d be back and asked if you would phone her when you returned.’

      ‘Yes, I’ll phone her now,’ I said.

      Lucy and Adrian called ‘Hi’ from the landing and then returned to their rooms to finish their homework. They’d come down and meet Danny properly later. I looked at Danny. He was going to have to get off the chair now and come with me.

      ‘Danny, we’re going into the living room,’ I said. ‘There are some toys in there for you to play with. I’ll unpack your bag later.’ I’d sorted out a selection of age-appropriate games and puzzles for him to play with that afternoon.

      Danny didn’t move or say anything.

      ‘Come on, love,’ I said, gently taking his arm. ‘You can’t stay here.’

      Paula was looking a bit concerned. Most children arrived with something to say – some had plenty to say. I eased him off the chair, took his hand and led him gently down the hall and into the living room.

      ‘He’s still got his coat on, Mum,’ Paula said.

      ‘Yes, he’s going to take it off later, aren’t you?’ I said to Danny, but there was no response.

      Now he was standing I could see just how small he was. I’d previously fostered a four-year-old girl, Alice, whose story I told in I Miss Mummy, but Danny, two years older, was about the same size as her, and definitely well below the average height and weight for a boy of his age. Perhaps his parents were of small stature, I thought, which could account for it.

      Danny looked at the toys in the centre of the living room but didn’t immediately go to them as most children would have done, so I led him over. ‘Do you like building bricks?’ I asked, pointing to the Lego. ‘Perhaps you’d like to build a car? Or a castle, or a boat, or a house?’ I suggested.

      He didn’t say anything but did squat on the floor by the toys, where he just sat staring at them.

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