Cruel to Be Kind. Cathy Glass

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СКАЧАТЬ that Jo could dismiss Max’s size as ‘chubby’ and liking his food. Most of us like our food, but with so many enticing choices and food so easily available, we often have to moderate our intake for the sake of our health. However, it didn’t seem appropriate to raise the issue now, as Jo had dismissed it, so other than asking her if Max was following a diet – he wasn’t – I didn’t say anything further on the matter at this stage. There was a lot to get through and Jo was going to the hospital after she left us.

      ‘I’m anticipating Max will remain in care while his mother is in hospital,’ Jo continued, ‘and possibly for a while after she returns home, until she is able to cope again. But she’s not being discharged yet. She had toes amputated two weeks ago and her foot isn’t healing as it should. She can’t manage on crutches yet. When I saw her yesterday her blood pressure was up, so she won’t be discharged until that is under control again.’

      Jill and I both nodded. ‘Is the children’s father living at home?’ Jill now asked.

      ‘Yes, although he doesn’t have much involvement in the day-to-day running of the home or looking after the children. That falls to Caz. Max’s sisters are older and reasonably self-sufficient, but obviously he needs looking after at his age.’

      ‘Does Max have any allergies?’ Jill asked, going through a mental checklist of issues that the carer needs to know.

      ‘Not as far as I’m aware, but I’ll check with Caz this evening,’ Jo said, and made a note.

      ‘Is Max up to date with his dental and optician check-ups?’ Jill asked. Again, another standard question. If the child isn’t up to date with these check-ups then the carer will usually book the necessary appointments and take the child to them.

      ‘Dentist, I would think so,’ Jo said, ‘as Max had some teeth out not so long ago, but I’ll ask Caz about the opticians.’ She made another note. ‘Now, school,’ she said, moving on. ‘The details are on the essential information form. His school is about a ten-minute drive from here. Max usually goes to breakfast club and Caz wants that to continue. She says he has a bowl of cereal before he leaves in the morning and then has a proper breakfast at school. It’s already paid for, as are his school dinners, as the family are in receipt of benefits. Max has been staying at after-school club until around four-fifteen, but that’s flexible. One of his sisters has been taking him to school and collecting him, but I’m assuming you’ll do that now?’

      ‘Yes,’ I said. That Max went to breakfast club and after-school club would help me enormously, for it meant I could take him to school first and then go on with Adrian and Paula. Then, at the end of the day, I’d do the reverse. The logistics of the school run are sometimes very difficult and I could find myself having to be in two places at the same time.

      ‘His sisters went to the same school as Max,’ Jo continued. ‘Although there’s a big age gap, some of the staff taught the girls so they know the family. Max is doing well at school and likes to read. His teacher, Mrs Marshall, is very nice and was a big help earlier when I had to tell Max he wouldn’t be going home.’

      ‘I’ll introduce myself tomorrow,’ I said.

      Jo then went quickly through the essential information forms to see if there was anything she’d missed. I followed in my copy; I’d look at it again later in more detail. The box for information on cultural and religious needs showed that Max was British and nominally Church of England, and in the box for details of any challenging behaviour the word None had been written. Coming to the end of the form, Jo told Jill she’d make sure she was sent a copy and then passed me the placement agreement form to sign. This contained the consent I needed to legally look after the child and required my signature to say I would foster the child in accordance with the foster-carer agreement and fostering regulations.

      ‘I’ll put copies of this in the post to you both,’ Jo said as I handed it back. ‘I think that’s everything.’ She looked again at the clock. ‘Let’s show Max around and then I’ll be off.’ It’s usual for the social worker to see the foster carer’s home when the child is placed, and specifically the child’s bedroom.

      I went into the garden and to the children. Max and Adrian were still sitting on the bench beneath the tree, talking quietly. Paula was now on the grass, stroking Toscha. ‘All right, love?’ I said to Max. ‘Jo is going soon so we’ll show you around the house before she leaves. You two can stay here if you want, as you know what the house looks like.’ Adrian obliged me with a smile.

      Max heaved himself off the bench and plodded towards me. ‘I’m hungry,’ he said.

      ‘We’ll have dinner just as soon as Jo has gone, all right, love?’

      He nodded. ‘Paula said we could have an ice cream.’

      ‘Yes, after dinner.’ It was a bit close to dinner now to have it before, I thought.

      ‘I like ice cream,’ Max said.

      ‘So do Adrian and Paula.’ I offered him my hand, as I would any young child, for comfort and reassurance, and he took it. Because of Max’s size it was easy to forget he was only six. Rotund, he looked more like a portly little gentleman – Dickens’s Mr Pickwick – rather than a small child. I could picture him in a waistcoat with a pocket watch.

      Max also used my hand for a degree of support. I felt his weight, a pull, as we trod over the lawn towards the patio, then even more so as he hauled himself up the step. Taking hold of the edge of the patio door with one hand, he kept a grip on me with the other and levered himself into the living room with a small sigh, then dropped my hand.

      ‘How are you doing?’ Jo asked him.

      ‘OK,’ he said.

      ‘It’s a nice big garden, isn’t it?’ Jill said brightly.

      Max nodded dispassionately, for of course the appeal of a garden to a child is that they can run and play in it, but Max’s running and playing was so severely compromised that the garden would probably be just another hurdle to overcome, rather than a means of having fun.

      ‘Cathy is going to show us around the house now, and then I’m going to see your mother at the hospital,’ Jo said. ‘As it’s getting late I’ll suggest to your mum she speaks to you on the phone tonight, rather than you visiting her. Is that OK?’

      I was expecting a reaction – ‘I want to see my mummy’ or similar – as was Jill from the way she was looking at Max. But he just nodded stoically, apparently as accepting of this as he appeared to be of most things.

      Jo and Jill now stood and I began the tour. ‘This is the living room,’ I said, addressing Max. ‘We use this room the most and often sit in here in the evenings to play games or watch some television.’ He nodded and I led the way out of the living room and into the kitchen-cum-diner, where I explained that this was where we usually ate.

      ‘Something smells good,’ Jill said, sniffing the air.

      ‘Dinner, I hope,’ I said. ‘It’s a chicken casserole. Do you like casserole?’ I asked Max.

      His eyes lit up, and with the most enthusiasm I’d seen since he’d arrived, he said, ‘I love casserole.’

      ‘Good.’ I smiled at him. I showed them out of the kitchen, down the hall and into the front room. ‘This is a sort of quiet room,’ I said. ‘If you want СКАЧАТЬ