Chapter Text
A shrill ring pierced the still house. Goose shot up from his slouched position on the sofa. His half-asleep brain shocked awake. Carole had stepped away from the stove top. Her face pale, eyes sparkling with excitement, hands shaking.
This was the phone call they'd been waiting for, the one they'd spent many months considering in waiting rooms of hospitals, on long drives to and from physiotherapists and during the seemingly endless sleepless nights. Over a year's worth of training to be deemed qualified and over a month of waiting for the phone to ring. And here they were.
Carole dropped the spatula on the floor as she hurried into the hall to answer it. Goose swung his legs onto the floor. Somewhere along the line his breath had started coming out in pants, his stomach knotted itself, a tickling possession of nausea filled him. So many what ifs rang in his head as he lent in to hear the person on the other end.
"This is the Bradshaws, yes," Carole said. "This is Carole speaking at the moment but my husband's right here."
Nick smiled, he couldn't hear much on the other end so had to paint a picture based on her responses.
"This will be our first case, yes "
He could hear the excitement in her voice. He hoped this child would be a match for them. Bradley was excited too, he’d set his mind on being best friends with every child they would care for, although they knew that that was basically impossible.
As the case worker read off the information, she mouthed it to him. The child's name was Neil Vikander. He was six. Abusive parents, sentenced, just this morning, to twelve years in prison each. Social services had yet to find any other family so he would need to be taken care of for a few days until they did.
Goose couldn't resist as he lent in so closely that his ear touched the receiver. Distantly, he could hear the woman on the other end.
“We know you’ve put down to look after boys aged five to ten years old, would you be willing to care for him?”
Carole looked at him. The phone drifted from her ear. This was becoming real. All the training, all the stress and preparing. Buying toys and clothes, decorating the spare room and making a fully stocked spares cupboard with toothbrushes, shampoo, conditioner, body wash and plenty of other things for the children who came with nothing, all of it would finally be put to use.
He nodded at her. A warm smile filled his face. This was really happening, he could barely believe it, and by the look on Carole’s face, she couldn't either.
“Yes.” she said. “When will he arrive? And will he need to be put in school?"
"He will arrive at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning with the social worker, because it's coming up to the weekend and he'll only be there for a few nights, he won't need to be put into school."
Carole froze with her smile on her face, "So that's it?"
"That's it."
She thanked them and hung up the phone. Her hands were trembling. He took them, kissed her knuckles and pulled her into a hug.
"It's happening, it's really happening," she squealed. "I can't believe it!"
"Me neither, honey, me neither."
As he scooped her up and around in the air, he kissed her strongly on the lips. His stomach was still full of butterflies, his heart beginning to sing. They touched foreheads as he lowered her to the ground.
"Now all we have to do is tell Bradley." She said.
Carole sat on the stairs, her eyes were set on the door. The social worker would be here any moment. It was almost eleven o'clock. She'd been awake since five, arranging the spare room Neil would be staying in, checking the essentials they had, going over what she was going to say. She didn't want to seem too excited, that could overwhelm him, but being too cool might make him feel like he wasn't welcome.
Nick was playing with Bradley in the living room. They had to maintain a sense of normality for him because despite his excitement, they knew their son well enough that having a stranger in the house would eventually cause an outburst of tears if they didn't make sure to keep things normal.
That's why they were partially glad that Neil would only be there for a few days. He was their first foster child after all and they would all have to adjust.
A harsh ring of the doorbell made her shoot to her feet. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. She took a glance in the mirror by the door, there was already a sheen of sweat on her brow.
She felt Nick rush to her side. The distant sound of a taped episode of Sesame Street broke through the electric silence. It was Bradley's favourite show, they'd actually started calling him Little Big Bird because of his love for the character.
They glanced at each other, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
The social worker, Debbie, held the hand of a scrawny boy with a rough red backpack. His hair was a mess but had the look that someone had tried to tidy up to little success. A dirty t-shirt hung off him, it must have belonged to someone else, she thought, because that shirt would fit Nick.
"Hi," said Debbie. "This is Neil Vikander."
He stepped backwards, hiding behind her legs. She prompted him to move forward but to no avail. Carole knelt down in front of him with a smile.
"Hello, I'm Carole, this is my husband Nick, do you want to come in?".
She held her breath. All her training had left her head. She was just relying on parental instincts, she was lucky that they had Bradley.
Neil took a step away from the Social Worker. Due to his smaller stature, he was only six, he had to crane his neck to look at Nick. But Nick was his usual lovable self and gave him his goofy smile, accompanied by a wiggle of his eyebrows.
"I'll stay while they show you around, then we'll have some grown up things to talk about while you get settled, okay?" Debbie said.
Neil nodded and took his first step over the threshold of the house. His big eyes scoured the house. The floppy plant in the corner, the shoe rack and coat hooks under the mirror. Pictures of them were on the walls, Bradley's first Christmas, their wedding, Goose and Maverick's promotion to Lieutenants.
He toed off his shoes and, keeping his eyes on at least one of the adults at all times, placed them next to Bradley's on the rack. His hand still gripped his backpack in a white knuckle grip. Something about how he hugged it told her that his parents, who she'd heard weren't nice over the phone, liked to look through his things.
"Do you want to take my hand?" She suggested, offering her hand.
He stared at it for a moment, his hand was still firmly in Debbie's. With a gulp, he let go and gripped her fingers. His grip was soft, as if he was scared he might be holding on too tight, so she squeezed his hand. Her smile grew brighter when he squeezed back and hardened his grip.
First, she showed him the hall, the cupboard under the stairs and more pictures. His gaze lingered on Bradley's drawings.
"So, here's where we put clutter like bags, extra coats and shoes," Nick explained. "Next is the living room."
"We've got a tv, some bookcases, there's a piano in the corner which I play, a big comfy couch and-"
Neil froze in his place. They followed where he was looking and saw Bradley. He'd paused the television and was hiding behind the couch. Apart from his eyes, which were peeking over the edge.
"And we also have a Bradley."
He ran over to him and hoisted him up in the air. Blowing kisses into his stomach, Bradley let out giggles that helped to ease the tension, as Neil had finally entered the room.
With uneasy steps, he peered around the room. He stroked the bookshelves, taking a second to look at the pictures, before walking toward the piano. His hand faltered on it but with a shake of his head, he pulled his hand away like it had been burnt.
"Do you want to see the kitchen?" Carole asked.
Neil nodded and took her hand again. Goose held Bradley on his hip with struggle as he kept wiggling with excitement. Her heart was still racing, this boy was so sweet, she couldn’t think how anyone could possibly want to hurt him.
When they entered the kitchen, Neil let go of her hand again to stand in the middle of the room. He turned clockwise, staring at the counters, eyes lingering on the oven. After he'd done a full sweep she told him where everything was, food, bowls and plates, cutlery and made sure to point out the food basket, a basket of snacks he was free to take from at any time.
She still didn't get a reply. He did, however, inspect the basket and carefully take a kitkat out, placing it in his pocket. She went to say something, but there was something about the look on his face that told her that they shouldn't make a big deal of it.
They showed him their bedroom in the converted garage, reminded him that if he needed anything in the night to just knock on. He seemed to like their big comfy bed but still remained silent. He kept his silence as they showed him the bathroom too.
Carole knew it was a defence mechanism, they'd been taught about how children's behaviour was a reaction to what they'd been through, but couldn’t help but feel like she wasn't doing enough to make him feel comfortable.
They stopped outside the bedrooms. She held the door open to the spare room while Goose stood outside Bradley's, who had wriggled free snf was doing some sort of dance in the middle of the room.
"So, Neil-" Neil moved his eyes to Nick as he spoke. "You can either sleep in your own room, so there's space to get used to the house and process things, or you can stay in Bradley's room so you can have some company and get used to the house that way, which do you prefer?"
He took a moment, taking his focus away from Nick and analysing the rooms. First, he walked around the lone room, bounced on the bed a few times, stroked the bookshelf and picked up various toys before placing them carefully back where they were.
Then, he moved onto Bradley's. This room had much more personality. They'd been advised not to decorate the foster children's rooms too much as to not alienate new kids in their care. This advice was mainly for those who fostered girls and boys, they were only fostering boys so far but still knew that interests could vary. One child may love dinosaurs but another might detest them.
Plane wallpaper covered the walls. Toys were strewn about even though they tidied up this morning. There was a racecar bed on the left hand wall, a fluffy blue rug, a set of drawers and a full bookshelf next to the door.
In the far corner was another bed, with a simple blue and orange bed sheet. Clear buckets were placed underneath, empty and waiting to be filled. There were pictures of them when Bradley was younger, various baby photos and days out ageing on the walls.
Neil looked back at them, then at Bradley and to the spare bed. He shuffled his feet toward the spare bed and placed his ragged backpack on the end. As he turned around, he flashed them a glimmer of a smile. Carole's heart leapt.
An hour later, after a few cups of coffee, the social worker had waved them and Neil goodbye. Once she'd gone, a level of awkwardness filled the atmosphere that started to confirm Carole's insecurities that she was doing something wrong.
Neil sat still on the sofa, hands perfectly on his lap and silent as ever. Her and Nick peered from the kitchen to see him looking around, taking in the neat bookshelves and family photos while completely still.
Bradley was a ball of energy. They'd had to pull him aside into the kitchen to remind him that Neil was probably very overwhelmed and may need a second to adjust, so he shouldn't bombard him too much yet. He'd pouted at that, he'd expected a new friend, not a traumatised child. They'd sent him on his way with the promise of more Sesame Street which had put the smile back on his face.
Carole sipped her fresh cup of tea while listening to Bert and Ernie argue softly in the distance. She swirled the mug in her hand and sighed.
They'd done everything they were supposed to, provided him with some pyjamas to keep, even when he left their care, some toiletries and showed him where to put his things while he stayed there. But after all that and their training, she still felt majorly underprepared. She didn't know whether to leave him to adjust or try to make conversation, whether to let Bradley play with him or leave him to play by himself.
"I know that look," Goose said.
"What look?"
"That 'I'm doubting myself when I don't need to' look."
She stared at him. She didn't know her emotions read so easily on her face.
He stepped closer and placed his mug on the counter behind her. With one arm he held her in a warm embrace, she nuzzled into his shoulder, letting out a deep shuddering breath.
"You're doing great," he said
"So are you."
"We're both still getting used to this, okay?"
"Okay."
A shriek broke their focus. They abandoned their drinks on the side and ran to the living room. Images of one of the kids being hurt, Neil panicking and their foster carer licence being taken away flooded her head. However, when they arrived, they saw no such tragedy. Instead all the negative images were blown out of her head.
Sesame Street was still on the television but went unwatched. Bradley had his power rangers action figures out and was joined by Neil as they played out their version of something that had happened in the show. And not only was Neil playing, he was talking, voicing out the characters and laughing at Bradley's jokes.
The two noticed them at the door, but after a reassuring smile from Goose and Carole, they carried on with their game. Nick’s arm snaked around her waist as her's went around his. Resting her head on his shoulder again, the anxiety was replaced with some resemblance of calm. So far, this was going well.