Saving Danny by Cathy Glass

the clamour of children’s voices as they filed into the building and went to their classrooms. Then Sam, the caretaker I’d briefly met the evening before, appeared at the end of the corridor. ‘How’s the little fellow doing?’ he asked cheerfully.
    ‘He’s doing all right,’ I smiled.
    ‘Good for you. You foster carers do a fantastic job. I know – I was brought up in care.’ And with a nod and a smile he went off to go about his duties. That was a nice comment, I thought.
    Five minutes later the school was quiet as the first lesson began. Sue appeared with Terri and we said good morning. ‘How’s Danny been?’ Terri asked.
    ‘Quiet,’ I said. ‘But he ate and slept well, and we only had one tantrum.’
    ‘Good. Have you met his mother, Reva?’
    ‘Just briefly in the playground. She’s very upset.’
    Terri nodded. ‘Shall we get started then? I have to be away by ten-thirty as I have another meeting at eleven.’
    Sue knocked on the door to the medical room and she and Terri went in, while I waited at the door. I could see Danny was now sitting on a chair beside his mother. They both had their hands in their laps, and were quiet and still.
    ‘Danny, I’ll take you to your class now,’ Sue said gently.
    Danny obediently stood.
    ‘Say goodbye to your mother,’ Sue said.
    ‘Goodbye,’ Danny said in a small, flat voice and without looking at her.
    ‘Goodbye, love,’ she called after him. ‘I’ll see you later.’
    Danny didn’t reply or show any emotion but walked quietly away with his teacher.
    ‘Will you show Reva and Cathy to the staff room?’ Sue said to Terri. ‘I’ll join you there once I’ve taken Danny to his class.’
    ‘Bye, love,’ Danny’s mother called again as he left, but Danny didn’t reply.
    ‘How are you?’ Terri now asked Reva as she stood, looping her handbag over her shoulder.
    She shrugged and dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
    ‘You’ve met Cathy,’ Terri said to her.
    She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes.
    ‘Hello, Reva,’ I said with a smile.
    I could see the family resemblance between her and Danny – the same mouth and eyes.
    ‘I did my best for him,’ she said as we left the medical room. ‘Really I did, but I’ve failed.’ Her tears fell.
    ‘You haven’t failed,’ I said. ‘Danny is a lovely boy, but I can appreciate just how much it takes to look after him.’
    ‘You don’t blame me then?’ she said, slightly surprised.
    ‘No, of course not.’
    ‘No one blames you,’ Terri added. ‘I’ve told you that.’
    ‘My husband does,’ Reva said.
    ‘For what?’ Terri asked.
    ‘Having an autistic son.’
    Reva and I went with Terri to the staff room where we settled around the small table that sat at one end of the room and waited for Sue. The staff room was compact, with pigeonhole shelving overflowing with books and papers, and pin boards on the walls covered with notices, leaflets and flyers. On a cabinet stood a kettle beside a tray containing mugs and a jar of coffee. But like the rest of the school the staff room emanated a cosy, warm feeling, easily making up for what it lacked in size. Reva, sitting opposite me, had dried her eyes now, but I could see she wasn’t far from tears. Terri, to her right, had taken out a notepad and was writing. I felt I needed to say something positive to Reva to try to reassure her.
    ‘Danny did very well last night,’ I said. ‘Our house was obviously all new to him, but he coped well. He ate dinner with us and then played with some Lego.’
    ‘Terri said it took ages to find him on the playing field,’ Reva said despondently. ‘Danny’s good at running off and hiding. You’ll need to be careful.’
    ‘I’ll remember that,’ I said. Although I’d rather guessed that might be the case.
    ‘You’ll have to lock all your doors and windows or he’ll run off outside and you’ll never find him,’ Reva said.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured her. ‘My house is secure. He’ll be