‘Those are nice names,’ I said, relieved.
‘And they don’t make your breathing bad?’ Jill asked him.
‘No,’ Max said.
‘Best keep an eye on it, though,’ Jill said. Then to Jo: ‘Will he be having a medical?’
‘That’s something else I’ll need to discuss with his mother,’ she replied, setting her cup in its saucer. When a child first comes into care they usually have a medical. If the child is in care under a Section 20 then the parent’s permission is sought. ‘Caz told me he’d had some teeth out earlier this year,’ she added, ‘but I don’t know of any other medical conditions.’
Max had already finished his drink, having swallowed it straight down. ‘Would you like another drink?’ I asked him, as he was clearly thirsty. He nodded. ‘What would you like?’
‘Juice.’
I took his glass and went into the kitchen where I poured another glass of juice, aware that even pure juice has a high calorie content from the fructose sugar. Not a good idea for a child who is already badly overweight. Returning to the living room I passed the glass to Max and he drank down half of it in one go and then sat with the glass resting on his stomach.
‘Here’s the paperwork you need,’ Jo said, handing me the essential information and placement forms.
‘Thank you.’
‘Could you send a copy to the agency too,’ Jill said. ‘So we have it on file.’ This was normal practice.
‘Yes, of course,’ Jo said. ‘Sorry, I should have realized. It’s been a busy day.’ She took a notepad from her bag and made a note.
‘It’s a nice house, isn’t it?’ Jill said encouragingly to Max. He nodded.
‘I’ll show you around later,’ I said.
‘I’m hoping to send some of his belongings over tomorrow,’ Jo now said. ‘One of his sisters might be able to drop them off. She passes by the end of your road most days on her way to college.’
I looked at Jill. ‘I think we’ll need to discuss that,’ Jill said, nodding pointedly towards Max. For clearly discussing any issue in respect of Max’s family was going to be difficult in front of him. There was an awkward silence.
‘Now Max has recovered, perhaps he’d like to go in the garden with Adrian and Paula?’ I suggested. ‘There are some toys out there and a bench in the shade of the tree,’ I said to him.
‘That sounds nice,’ Jo said, appreciating my suggestion. ‘Let’s take a look, shall we?’ She set her cup and saucer on the coffee table and stood. Max, who’d been leaning right back into the sofa, began struggling to get off, shuffling forward but finding it difficult. Jo instinctively offered her hand and helped him off, as one would an elderly person. It was pathetically sad and another indication of just how being badly overweight was blighting his life. Most children would have leapt off the sofa and been down the garden in an instant.
I looked at Max as he waddled towards the patio doors. Of average height for a six-year-old, he had short brown hair, a pleasant face, round and open, and seemed quite placid in nature. I wondered how he coped with the inevitable name-calling in the school playground. My heart went out to him. Children can be cruel and anyone who deviates from the norm can easily become the object of bullying.
Just outside my patio doors there is one small step that leads onto the patio. It’s not high and is easily navigated by even small children, but Max now held onto the edge of the door to support himself as if worried he might lose his balance and topple. He carefully turned sideways and tentatively lowered one foot and then the other, as a toddler might. Outside, we all crossed the patio and went onto the lawn where the toys were.
‘What would you like to play?’ Adrian asked sensitively. ‘It’s a bit hot for football.’ Indeed, Max was perspiring again, although the sun was starting to lose its strength.
‘I’ll watch while you play,’ Max said quietly. ‘Like I do at school.’ I could have wept. The thought of the poor child having to sit and watch while his friends played instead of joining in touched me. Whether his non-participation was from not being able to run and keep up, discomfort if he tried or a fear of being laughed at I didn’t know – possibly a little of each – but it was desperately sad.
Adrian and Paula were looking a little awkward, not sure what to do for the best. ‘You can play,’ I said to them. ‘Max can join in if he wishes or sit on the bench. It’s up to him.’
‘I’ll sit,’ he said, and lumbered towards the bench in the shade. Toscha had followed us out of the house and strolled over to join him.
‘I’ll sit with you,’ Paula said to Max, suddenly losing her shyness. I think she felt sorry for him.
‘So will I,’ Adrian said. I saw Jill smile.
Max heaved himself onto the bench and Adrian sat on one side and Paula the other. Toscha sprawled at their feet.
‘I’ll leave the patio door open so you can come in when you want,’ I said for Max’s benefit. Jo, Jill and I then returned to the living room.
I was now expecting Jo to start talking about Max’s obesity, including details of the diet he must surely be following and any appointments at the health clinic. But, draining the last of her coffee, she opened her notepad and said to Jill, ‘What was the issue with Max’s sister bringing his clothes here?’
‘Cathy received a rather unpleasant telephone call from Max’s mother earlier this afternoon,’ Jill said evenly. ‘She wasn’t aware her contact details had been given to the family. We usually ask our carers first.’
Jo raised her eyebrows. ‘His mother wanted the phone number of where Max would be staying and I didn’t see a problem in giving it to her. He is in care voluntarily.’ It sounded as though it was me who had the problem.
‘It was quite a threatening call,’ I said. ‘Caz told me to give Max whatever he wanted or I’d have his father to answer to.’
Jo nodded dispassionately and made a note. ‘I’ll mention it to her when I see her later.’
‘Does the family have Cathy’s address too?’ Jill asked.
‘I’m not sure. I might have mentioned it but I think I just told her the area. She was quite insistent on a number of points before she agreed to Max going into care.’
‘Given the nature of the phone call this afternoon, if she doesn’t already have the address perhaps we could withhold it for now?’ Jill suggested diplomatically. ‘We can always review that later.’
‘All right,’ Jo said, and made another note.
I was grateful for Jill’s support. I felt that Jo, like many social workers, didn’t fully appreciate how worrying it could be for a carer to have an irate parent phoning or turning up on their doorstep. Social workers don’t have this worry, as the families they deal with don’t know their home address. While it’s often appropriate for the parents of a child in care to have the foster carer’s contact details, it didn’t hurt to err on the side of caution to keep everyone safe.
Jill took a pad and pen from her bag. ‘What are the contact arrangements?’ she now asked.
‘Caz wants to see Max every evening while she’s in hospital, as she has been doing. His sisters have been taking him, but I assume Cathy will be taking him now?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Perhaps his sisters could take his bag to the hospital and Cathy could collect it from there?’ Jill suggested.
‘That would be good,’ I added.
‘I’ll mention it tonight,’