Finding Stevie, page 8
‘Very,’ he said, embarrassed. ‘I sent him one of my –’ He hesitated. ‘You know what.’
‘Your private parts?’
He nodded self-consciously. ‘He sent me one of his, but please don’t tell my gran. She’ll be furious.’ Understandably, I thought, and I dreaded to think what Fred would say. Not only that, I knew from foster-carer training that in the UK it is an offence to take, distribute, possess or show any indecent images of anyone under eighteen, even if they were taken by the young person or with their consent. I didn’t want to panic Stevie, but this was serious.
‘No, I don’t have to tell your grandparents,’ I said, ‘but I will have to tell your social worker and she will decide what to do for the best. You are a minor and your grandparents are your guardians and therefore responsible for you.’ Then a horrendous thought occurred to me. All that time Stevie had spent in his room on his phone, had he taken the photos while he’d been in my care? As his foster carer I was acting in loco parentis and would have been responsible had they been taken here, although of course it’s impossible to supervise young people all the time. ‘When did you take the photographs and send them?’ I asked.
‘When I was at my gran’s,’ Stevie said. ‘I’ve deleted the photos from my phone and Joey promised to do the same. But I feel bad he saw me like that, and what if he shows them to someone or puts them online?’
‘That’s exactly why it’s not a good idea to send intimate photos of yourself,’ I said.
‘I know,’ Stevie said dejectedly.
Sexting is the term used to describe the exchange of sexually explicit messages, photos and videos by text, app or online. The problem is that once you press send you have no control over where that photo will end up, as Stevie had now realised – too late. ‘Did you know it’s illegal to send photos like this at your age?’ I asked him.
He looked horrified. ‘No! But I’m not the only one who does it. What will happen to me?’
‘First and foremost, it’s important that you learn a lesson from this,’ I said. ‘From what I understand Verity will need to inform the police.’ He gasped. ‘They may want to see you and it will be their decision if you are charged.’ This piece of UK law was relatively new, but the guidelines were that while the police had to record incidents of sexting involving minors, what action they took was at their discretion and the crime should be viewed proportionately and as a safeguarding issue. However, had one of them been an adult it would have been viewed differently and fallen into paedophile activity. I hoped the police would view this as an error of judgement between two young people, but that would be their decision.
Stevie looked as though he’d learnt his lesson already; the colour had drained from his face. ‘I’m glad you felt able to tell me,’ I said. ‘Try not to worry. I’ll speak to Verity first thing tomorrow. You’ve deleted all the indecent photos from your phone and Joey has said he has done the same, but if any of you do appear online, you need to tell me straight away. OK?’
‘Yes, I will,’ Stevie said glumly.
By the time Stevie and I went down to dinner Paula, Lucy and Adrian had finished theirs but were still at the table, talking. They obviously knew something significant and upsetting that involved Stevie had taken place but were sensitive enough not to ask. It would be up to Stevie if he told them. I pinged my and Stevie’s dinner in the microwave and we ate together, then instead of disappearing up to his room he stayed at the table chatting to the girls for a while, then joined me in the living room and watched some television. While he was still clearly worried – this would be hanging over him for some time while the police made their decision on what action to take – he’d stopped frantically checking his phone and did seem more relaxed and talkative. He had an early night and after he’d gone to bed I took the opportunity to write up my log notes, detailing what Stevie had told me. I hadn’t telephoned Peggy as I said I would after Verity’s visit as I needed to update Verity first about this disclosure, and I knew she’d want to speak to Peggy and Fred.
I didn’t sleep well and I don’t think Stevie did either as I heard him get up twice to go to the bathroom. What Stevie had told me played on my mind – despite all the warnings, he’d put himself in an unsafe position online. Peggy and Fred weren’t tech savvy and as far as I knew didn’t own mobile phones, but warnings about staying safe online were everywhere, and the school would have warned its students too. But like other young people Stevie and Joey hadn’t heeded the warnings, probably feeling they didn’t apply to them and, caught up in the excitement of their romance, had not only compromised their safety, but unwittingly committed a crime. I wondered if Paula, Lucy or Adrian could ever do similar and hoped not, after all my warnings. As far as I knew all their friends had been made in person and not online – from school, college, university, work, our neighbourhood and so on. I trusted them to do the sensible thing, but of course you can never be sure, even though they were young adults now.
In the morning, once the house had emptied, I telephoned Verity and told her exactly what Stevie had told me. She wasn’t shocked – as a social worker she would have had to deal with matters far more shocking than sexting – but she was concerned and immediately appreciated the implications. The social services had been involved with the family for some time and Stevie was a looked-after child in care, so we all bore some responsibility for him. ‘Joey is fifteen and the website where they met is for young LGBT people,’ Verity clarified, I guessed making notes.
‘Yes, that’s what Stevie said, and that he was on Facebook too.’
‘And Stevie’s already deleted all the indecent images he had on his phone?’
‘Yes, although I didn’t check.’
‘OK. I’ll need to see him again, but I’ll speak to his grandparents first. Wish me luck.’
I didn’t envy Verity having to tell Peggy and Fred what Stevie had done, but when Peggy telephoned me two hours later she appeared to have taken the news very well. ‘The silly sod,’ she said lightly, referring to Stevie. ‘Fancy him sending photos to that other lad when he didn’t even know him.’ So I guessed she understood what was involved.
‘I think Stevie has learnt his lesson now,’ I said. ‘He was very remorseful. Does Fred know?’
‘Yes. He thought it was funny to begin with until Verity told him she would have to report it to the police. I mean, we took some saucy photos of each other on our Polaroid camera when we were courting. But of course back then if you split up, you just handed the photo back. They faded anyway after a while.’ Polaroid cameras were fashionable in the 1970s and allowed you to print a photograph instantly, but the photos then, when the technology was just out, were small, lacked detail and, as Peggy said, could fade with time. Very unlike the clarity and detail in the digital photographs we have now, that can be taken on a phone and have the potential to be shared with thousands around the world in minutes.
‘Anyway, at least it’s out in the open,’ Peggy said. ‘Hopefully Stevie will be in a better mood now. Fred was more concerned it was a bloke he’d sent the photo to. I won’t tell you what he said.’
‘No, best not.’
That afternoon, when Stevie arrived home from school, he said that Verity had seen him while he’d been at school and had asked him about Joey and the photographs. That was all he said and I didn’t press him for more details. What took place between him and his social worker was private and Verity would hopefully tell me what – if anything – I needed to know. I guessed Stevie had told her pretty much what he’d told me. They’d used Carolyn’s office and Verity had spoken to her after she’d finished talking to Stevie.
By Friday I thought Stevie would probably want to go out, given that he was in a better frame of mind now and had pushed to be allowed out more when he was first placed. But when I asked if he had any plans for the weekend, he said he didn’t.
‘Is everything OK?’ I asked. ‘You used to go out a lot when you lived with your grandparents.’ Indeed, his going out and staying out had been one of the problems.
‘It was different at my gran’s,’ Stevie said. ‘I didn’t have any privacy and Grandpa kept going on at me. He was doing my head in, I had to get out. And the longer I stayed out the better.’
‘I understand,’ I said.
‘Also, the guy I used to spend time with has just been sent to live with his father abroad. He got into trouble with the police and his mum decided it was best for him. We still message.’
‘How old is he?’ I asked.
‘Fifteen.’
‘What sort of trouble was he in?’
‘Not sure, drugs, I think,’ Stevie hedged. ‘And before you ask, no, I don’t do drugs. I wouldn’t. I’ve seen what they’ve done to my mum, drugs and drink. They make you look like shit and screw up your brains.’
‘Yes, they do,’ I said, pleased Stevie could share this with me. ‘Most of the children I’ve fostered were from homes where one or both parents were drug or drink dependent.’
‘I don’t have to go out, do I?’ he then asked. ‘I mean, you don’t want to get rid of me?’
‘No, of course not.’ I smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re spending time with us.’
‘I’m glad too. I like living here,’ he said a little self-consciously.
‘And we’re all very pleased to have you,’ I replied. I was really touched.
On Saturday Stevie went to see his grandparents in the afternoon for a couple of hours. It was the first time he’d seen them since the sexting had become known and I wondered what they’d say to him, especially his grandfather. Fred wasn’t renowned for his subtle, sensitive approach. However, when Stevie returned he said his grandpa had been out, and his gran had told him he’d been stupid sending sexy photos to a stranger, and not to do it again, but that was all she’d said. He’d then spent a nice afternoon playing with Liam and Kiri.
On Sunday we all piled into my car and went to my mother’s for the day. We were dressed smart-casual, including Stevie, who hadn’t gone over the top. I hadn’t told Mum that Stevie saw himself as gender-fluid; I doubted she’d know what I was talking about and Mum took everyone at face value anyway. She was always pleased to see us and was supportive of my fostering, as Dad had been, welcoming the children into her home and heart. If she noticed that Stevie was wearing make-up, she didn’t say as she greeted us and made us feel at home. I thought Stevie would take to her, and he did. She’s just like a nana should be – kind, loving, attentive, non-judgemental and always has lots of time for her family.
Since Dad had died Adrian did odd jobs for Mum and she kept a list of what needed doing. Top of her list today was that the lock on the shed had rusted or broken, and she couldn’t get in to the bird seed to refill the feeders. She was concerned the birds were hungry in the middle of winter, as the feeders had been empty for a week. Stevie went with Adrian to fix the lock. We could see them through the patio windows. They chatted and laughed as they worked together, doing this job and others. It’s little moments like this that bond a family, and I hoped Fred spent time with Stevie – making him feel useful and wanted.
Mum had insisted on cooking us dinner (sometimes we took her out for a meal), so the girls and I helped prepare the food – a full Sunday roast, followed by apple pie and custard. Adrian and Stevie washed up and I dried, while Lucy and Paula sat in the living room chatting to Mum. It was a lovely day and I found it helped put what had been a troubled week into better perspective. As we came away, Stevie cheek-kissed and hugged Mum as we were doing as if he’d always been part of the family. ‘You’re in a good family,’ she said to him, and embarrassingly I teared up.
‘I know,’ he said.
Chapter Nine
First Review
Although we still had the decision of the police hanging over us, Stevie was more like his old self – the Stevie who’d arrived, charismatic, flamboyant and sometimes theatrical; indeed, I thought he could do well on the stage. Sometimes he dressed femininely and wore make-up, and sometimes he wore gender-neutral clothes like jeans and jerseys. He was starting to grow facial hair and if he left it for a few days a faint stubble appeared around his chin and over his top lip. I knew from raising Adrian that this was the age many boys began to shave and Stevie had an electric shaver his grandfather had bought for him. I heard it going in his bedroom sometimes.
‘Do you think I should grow a beard?’ Stevie asked us one Sunday evening when he hadn’t shaved all the weekend. To be honest there wasn’t really enough to make much of a beard, but I knew that wasn’t what you said to a lad of his age.
‘You could,’ Lucy said, ‘but not with make-up. That would look weird.’
‘No, of course not,’ Stevie said. ‘But some days it feels good being a guy. There are advantages.’
‘You’re telling me!’ Paula exclaimed. ‘Gender pay gap, for one. Why should a guy be paid more than a woman for doing the same job?’
‘Well said!’ Lucy applauded.
‘Because we’re better than you,’ Adrian teased.
‘In your dreams!’ Lucy retorted.
There followed a rather heated discussion not only about the gender pay gap, but other areas where women and men were discriminated against because of their gender – maternity leave, for example. I sat back and enjoyed listening to their lively debate. It’s so rejuvenating being among young people.
Eventually I said to Stevie, ‘If you are going to grow a beard, you’ll have to do so at weekends and school holidays. I think I’m right in saying that schools don’t allow beards.’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ Stevie agreed. ‘A guy in my class had to shave his off in the medical room at school.’
Verity arranged Stevie’s first LAC (looked-after child) review for the last Thursday in January, at 4.30 p.m. at my house. All children in care have regular reviews and the child’s parent(s) or guardians, social worker, teacher, foster carer, the foster carer’s support social worker and any other adults closely connected with the child meet to ensure that everything is being done to help them, and that the care plan (drawn up by the social services) is up to date. Very young children don’t usually attend their reviews, while older children are expected to.
Verity sent out the invitations to the review to all parties. Stevie’s and mine came with a review form each for us to complete and return to the Reviewing Officer. Stevie was obviously of an age where he could complete his form without my help; young children and those with learning difficulties often require the foster carer’s assistance. The questions on the forms are designed to give a picture of how the foster carer(s) and the child feel the placement is going. They include the child’s health and general wellbeing, school, cultural, religious and linguistic needs, friends, contact and hobbies. Stevie completed his form in the privacy of his bedroom and posted it on his way to school the following morning. My responses were all positive and I hoped Stevie’s were too, and that he was happy living with me. These forms would be part of the review and would then be filed at the social services.
Edith telephoned the day before the review and asked for an update on how Stevie was doing and said she would be attending the review. Peggy also phoned and asked for instructions on how to get to my house, and she wrote them down. She said she’d made arrangements for Liam and Kiri to stay at after-school club that day so both she and Fred could attend the review – usually they went straight home at the end of school. She asked me a few questions about what she could expect at the review, having never attended one before, and then said, ‘We’ll have to leave at five-thirty to collect Liam and Kiri from the after-school club; it closes at six o’clock.’
‘That should be fine,’ I reassured her. ‘Reviews usually only last for about an hour.’
I told Lucy, Paula and Adrian that Stevie’s review would be taking place at our house the following day so they wouldn’t just walk in and find a room full of strangers. Sometimes reviews are held at the social services’ offices or the child’s school, but there was no reason why Stevie’s review couldn’t be held at my house and it’s usually considered best – less stressful – for the child to be in the comfort of their (foster) home than in a stark, impersonal office.
On Thursday morning as Stevie left for school I reminded him to come straight home at the end of school for his review and said again there was nothing for him to worry about. Reviews can be daunting for a child or young person, with so many adults gathered formally together to discuss them. But Stevie seemed unfazed at the prospect and appeared to be taking it in his stride. That morning I put the hoover around the house, took my fostering folder from the locked drawer where I kept it, and our surviving set of matching cups and saucers from the cupboard ready for later. Carolyn telephoned early afternoon to say she would be representing the school at Stevie’s review and had got updates from his class and subject teachers, which she would bring with her.
At 3.30 I texted Stevie to remind him to come straight home and he texted back, On the bus now x, which was a very quick exit from school. He’d been good with his time keeping, remembering to text me if he was going to his grandparents, and not wanting to go out in the evening meant that I’d had none of the worry and stress his grandparents had. If it crossed my mind that perhaps the dramatic change in Stevie’s behaviour was too good to be true, I put it down to him being relieved of carrying the burden of Joey’s photographs; that the friend whom he’d stayed out all night with had been sent abroad to live; and Stevie now had the privacy of his own room and was away from his grandfather’s criticism.
Stevie arrived home at four o’clock and went straight up to his room, saying he had to get ready.
