Brian was tired. He looked at his cornflakes with very little enthusiasm and played around with them, sometimes actually eating a few, before going back to the ritual of pushing them round and round the bowl. Meanwhile round and round his mind the same thoughts kept going, relentlessly and mercilessly. Opposite him, his wife Karen sat, pale-faced and exhausted, concentrating on summoning up the energy to say something.
“What are we going to do?” Karen asked eventually.
“I don’t really know,” Brian replied. “Is he not on the list to be seen by someone?”
“He’s been on it for months, with not a word from them,” Karen said, before adding, “I don’t think I can go on like this…”
“Well, try giving them a ring.”
“I have, You know I have. But all I get is an answer machine and I leave a message and then…nothing.”
“Yes… You have mentioned that…”
“And then there’s his Educational Health Care Plan. He should have one. I mean he can barely get out of this room to get to the toilet. I’m no expert, but I have done enough reading to see that he is somewhere on the autistic spectrum and yet I get a letter saying that there is not enough evidence for him to be given an Educational Health Care Plan. What more evidence do they need?”
“I don’t know… I don’t know…”
Meeting Michael
The weather continued to get warmer and sunnier, but this did little to improve Brian’s mood. He had arranged to see Michael again and made his way to the Shipwright’s Armon on a sunny spring evening, still thinking about David and what would happen next…
Michael was already there when Brian entered the pub. Brian asked Michael if he wanted a pint (he didn’t – he had barely started the one he had), before ordering himself a drink and coming to sit down with Michael. He took a sip, before Michael spoke.
“Are you alright, Brian? You look knackered.”
“I am, I am, I’m really tired…”
“What’s up?”
“It’s David. He’s almost completely isolating himself now in his bedroom. He’s getting worse, not better. Karen is going up the wall and I’m… I’m losing sleep over it all.”
“Should David not be seeing a doctor?”
“He’s been on a waiting list for months… We get no contact from them and when we try to contact them, we get nowhere.”
“I see…”
“And then there’s his EHCP.”
“His Educational Healthcare Plan. Right?”
“Yes…”
“What about it?”
“We have applied and he’s been refused. I mean he cannot get out of this bedroom, but he’s been refused an Educational Healthcare Plan that could help him through his education. And then on top of all that, Karen has had a letter from the local school, saying that they have a plan to get him back into school by the second half of the summer term, you know after the May half-term…”
“That doesn’t sound very likely…”
“Tell me about it…but it has Karen all wound up and has made David even more likely to just stay in his room…”
“Will he get support at the school?”
“Well, they say so, but without the EHCP, it’s hard to see. That’s what guarantees him getting support…”
“Listen, I know a little about these EHCPs and how they work…”
“Oh yeah, how?”
“Never mind that… there is one thing I can tell you.”
“What?”
“The authorities almost always refuse a student first time round with an EHCP.”
“Yeah? Why?”
“To save money, of course.”
“Right, but how does all this help me?”
“Because, I said they refuse an EHCP first time round. You should have had a letter saying why David was refused an EHCP, but also saying that you could appeal.”
“Well, yes, I think we did. But Karen was so down that we didn’t do anything. But how do you know we would get it on appeal?”
“I don’t. But I do know this. An awful lot of students do get it on appeal. They just don’t want to give too many of them out. So, they refuse them the first time round, hoping that like you, the parents will get downhearted and just give up. But if I was you, I would talk to Karen and get an appeal in. When did you get the refusal letter?”
“A few weeks ago…”
“Well, when you get home find it and check when you need to get the appeal in by.”
“Right, yes, will do…”
An encounter at the post office
Later that week, Brian was in town after just finishing a job and was standing at the back of a long queue at the post office. In front of him a woman was grumbling about how long she had been waiting, while the one postmaster frantically tried to serve people as quickly as possible. It wasn’t long before Brian was joined by someone else in the queue. He turned round out of curiosity and found that she looked vaguely familiar. But he could not place her face.
“Hello,” the lady said. It’s Brian isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes it is. I know you from somewhere, but….not quite sure where.”
“The drop-in, do you remember?”
“Yes, of course, that’s right…”
“We mistook you for somebody else…and … I hope we didn’t embarrass you too much that day…”
No, no, it was actually very interesting. How is everybody from the drop-in?”
“Thanks for asking, they are OK.”
“I remember one in particular, who had been a child soldier in West Africa. He had such sad eyes. Is he OK?”
“Well, he was very down when you saw him… He had just had his application to remain in the country refused, you see.”
“So has he had to leave?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be very safe for him to return. There are still people from the other side who are out to get him.”
“What is he going to do?”
“Well, his solicitor has put in an appeal for him.”
“Will that work?”
“It might do… You see the Home Office often refuses asylum at first, but then they often grant it on appeal.”
“Well they don’t want to grant it at all really and they hope that the person seeking asylum will just give up I suppose…”
“Really?”
At that point Brian had moved to the front of the queue and the postmaster was asking who was next, and the conversation came to an abrupt halt.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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