school uniforms so I’d have to wash and dry what Max was wearing. From a drawer in my room I also took out a child’s toothbrush and hairbrush. I put the towel and toothbrush in the bathroom, ready for later, and then carried the clothes into what would shortly be Max’s bedroom. I’d already thoroughly cleaned and vacuumed it and put on fresh bed linen after the last child had gone. Since Alex (whose story I tell in Nobody’s Son) had left two weeks previously, I’d looked after a child on respite for ten days who’d now returned to live with his carer.
Satisfied I was as prepared as I could be at such short notice, I returned downstairs to telephone Jill, my supervising social worker from Homefinders, the agency I fostered for. Jill’s role was to supervise, monitor and support me in fostering so that the child received the best possible care. She had telephoned me an hour before to say that Max was being brought into care and to ask if I could look after him. Although she’d asked me, it is generally assumed that a foster carer will accept the child referred to them. It’s not a pick-and-choose situation. The child coming into care needs a home, so unless there is a very good reason why a carer can’t take a particular child then they are expected to do so. From the little I knew, I was happy to accept Max and had no reservations. Jill had given me a brief outline of his home situation and why he was now coming into care. Although Max hadn’t been in care before, his family had come to the attention of the social services when some support had been put in, and now, while Max’s mother was in hospital, his three teenage sisters were supposed to be looking after him, but last night they’d gone out partying instead. A neighbour had alerted the social services when Max had knocked at her door asking for dinner and she’d taken him in. I also knew from Jill that Max was being brought into care under Section 20 (of the Children’s Act), also known as Accommodated. This is when parents ‘agree’ to place their child in care voluntarily, rather than going to court and risking a care order, which would mean they would lose their parental rights. Around 30 per cent of children who come into care are placed under Section 20. Jill had said she was hoping to be with me when Max arrived, and I now phoned her to let her know the time.
‘OK, see you later,’ she said.
I began a quick tidy-up of the living room and also took food from the freezer for dinner later. I knew from experience that when a child first arrived with their social worker there was a lot to get through, and also Jo was expecting me to take Max to visit his mother in hospital, so time would be short.
Adrian, my seven-year-old son, would be pleased to have another boy staying with us, I mused as I worked, although in truth he and my three-year-old daughter, Paula, usually got along with any child we looked after. They’d grown up with fostering, so having someone else living with us was the norm. Also the norm, although it saddens me to say so, was that I was now a single parent, as my husband, John, had left us eighteen months before. I’d taken a short break immediately after he’d gone and then a few months later, with the children’s agreement, I’d resumed fostering. I enjoyed fostering – caring for and helping the children while they were with me. It gave another dimension to my life and the small payment I received, together with the part-time work I did from home, paid the bills. At present Adrian was at school and Paula was playing at a friend’s house. I would collect her on the way to meet Adrian from school.
I’m always a bit anxious just before a new child arrives, wondering how they will settle and if they will like my family and me, but once they’re here I’m so busy that there isn’t time to worry. I just concentrate on looking after them and meeting their needs to the best of my ability. This afternoon, however, ten minutes before I was due to leave to collect Adrian and Paula, my anxiety level rose to a new height. The phone rang and I answered it in the hall, expecting Jill or Jo with some more news about Max or a last-minute change of plan, which happens a lot in fostering. However, a rather gruff woman’s voice I didn’t recognize demanded, ‘Is that Cathy Glass?’
‘Yes,’ I said tentatively. ‘Who’s calling?’
‘Max’s mum, Caz. I’m warning you, lay one finger on my boy and you’ll be sorry. Do you understand? I might be in hospital but his dad isn’t, and he don’t stand any nonsense.’
Chapter Two
My heart began to race and my mouth had gone dry. ‘Of course I’ll take good care of Max,’ I reassured his mother, ignoring her slight, and trying to keep my voice even. I appreciated that parents who’ve just had their children taken into care are often angry and upset, but threatening me before I’d even met the child was a first. However, as worrying as this was, of more concern was how his mother, Caz, had got my number. ‘Who gave you my telephone number?’ I asked.
‘His social worker. Our solicitor told her she had to give it to us, as he’s in care voluntarily, or I wouldn’t have agreed to him going.’ Sometimes the parents of children in care under a Section 20 are given the contact details of the carer, but usually the carer is asked first, and it’s in cases where there is no animosity and the parents are working with the social workers and the foster carer in the best interests of the child. I didn’t dare ask if she had my address too.
‘Make sure you give Max what he wants to eat,’ she continued in the same confrontational tone. ‘I’ll be asking him when I see him what he’s had, so it better be good. No cheap rubbish.’
‘I always give the children good food, and a balanced diet,’ I said. ‘When they first arrive I ask them what they like and dislike.’
‘Max likes everything and plenty of it, so give him whatever he wants. I’ve told Jo, the social worker, I’ll want to see him every evening. You gonna be bringing him?’
‘I expect it will be me,’ I said. ‘I’m seeing Jo later when she brings Max to me, so she’ll tell me about the contact arrangements then.’ For even when a child is in care voluntarily it’s usual to have a timetable of contact.
‘I’ve told her,’ she said. Then, ‘You haven’t got any dogs, have you? Max don’t like dogs. He’s been scared of ’em since he got bit.’
‘No, we just have a cat, Toscha.’
‘That don’t bite, does it?’
‘No, she’s very placid.’ And long-suffering, I thought but didn’t say.
‘Make sure you look after him proper. Understand? When I see him I’ll ask him how you’ve been treating him.’
‘He’ll be well cared for,’ I said evenly. ‘Now I’m going to have to go to collect my children. Thank you for phoning.’
‘If those stupid girls had done what they were supposed to, none of this would have happened. Silly bitches,’ she fumed.
I assumed she meant her teenage daughters. I didn’t comment but rounded off the conversation as politely as I could. ‘I hope you feel better soon.’
‘What do you care?’ she snapped, and the phone went dead.
I left the house to collect Paula and Adrian, agitated, worried, and annoyed with Jo for giving Max’s mother my telephone number without mentioning it to me or advising her on when to use it. Telephone contact between the child and their family is often part of the contact arrangements, but it has to be regulated or it can become a nuisance for the foster family, and upsetting for the child when they are trying to settle in. It’s certainly not supposed to be used to harass and threaten the carer. I’d raise it with Jill and Jo when I saw them later, out of earshot of Max. The poor child, I thought. It’s so important for any child coming into care to see their parents getting along with the foster carer and working together with them – it helps the child come to terms with what has happened.
This certainly wasn’t the best start. There is so much more to fostering than just looking after the child, which is often the easiest and most pleasant part. However, I consoled myself that Caz