daughters’ open hostility and rudeness. It wouldn’t help Max either, witnessing that. Children in care often struggle with divided loyalties: wanting to like and get on with their foster family, while loving their own family. It can be very confusing and it helps the child enormously if they see everyone getting along. But clearly that wasn’t going to happen yet.
We went up another flight of stairs to the play area and café, which were adjacent to each other. Children of various ages were already there. Adrian and Paula went over to play, while I sat at one of the tables and watched them, then after a while they came over and I bought us all a drink. I wondered if Max was thirsty, but I didn’t think going back to the ward to ask if he wanted a drink would be welcomed by his mother right now. Adrian set about doing his homework while I read Paula a story, then she returned to play with another similar-aged child in the play area.
So the time gradually passed. Adrian completed his homework and Paula was happy to play. Just before seven o’clock I said it was time to go and we packed away. Paula called goodbye to the new friend she’d made and we returned to the ward. Again I told Adrian and Paula to wait just inside the door while I went over to Caz. There was only one of her daughters there now, the youngest, sitting in the chair by the bed and yawning while absently flicking through a glossy teenage magazine. She looked bored stiff. Max was leaning against the bed but straightened when he saw me. ‘Are we going?’ he asked brightly.
‘Yes. It’s seven o’clock. Have you had a nice time?’
‘Of course he’s had a nice time,’ Caz snapped. I hadn’t intended any harm by the comment. I always ask a child if they’ve had a nice time if they’ve been somewhere.
‘Good. How are you doing?’ I tried again with Caz.
‘She’s had her toes off,’ her daughter said, stifling another yawn.
‘And it bleedin’ hurts,’ Caz said forcefully to her.
‘I’m sure it does,’ I sympathized. I would have liked to engage Caz in a proper conversation, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen, and Max seemed ready to leave.
‘My bag is under the bed,’ he said, struggling to bend down to retrieve it. I helped him pull the large zipper holdall from beneath the bed. ‘They remembered Buzz, so Adrian can have his back,’ he added.
‘Who’s Adrian?’ Caz said, suddenly turning to me.
‘My son. He’s waiting over there by the door with my daughter.’ She looked over and then returned her attention to her daughter. ‘Any good celeb gossip in there?’ she asked her, referring to the magazine.
‘Nah,’ she said, flicking the page and just looking at the pictures.
‘We’ll be off then,’ I said. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Caz turned to Max. ‘Give us a kiss then.’ She offered her cheek and he dutifully kissed it. ‘And your sister.’ His sister didn’t move, so Max squeezed around the bed to where she sat and she lowered her cheek, just enough for him to kiss it, while keeping her gaze on the magazine.
‘Goodbye,’ I said to them both, raising another smile. ‘Take care.’
But they kept their eyes down and Caz reached for the bag of sweets.
I picked up the holdall and we crossed to where Adrian and Paula were waiting and left. Some children become very distressed after separating from their parents at the end of contact, but Max seemed to deal with it in his usual pragmatic, matter-of-fact manner. He plodded along the corridor, then, taking the handrail, carefully manoeuvred himself down the stairs. By the time we were outside he was telling me he was hungry and asking if there would be time to have a snack before bed. I said there would be. We’d had an early dinner so it was reasonable for us to have a drink and a snack before bed. I asked Max if he’d been thirsty while he’d been on the ward, as he could take a bottle of water in with him next time. He said it was OK, as his sister had got him a bottle of cola. Then as I drove he asked if he could read in bed as he did at home.
‘Yes, of course, love. Once you’ve had your bath and are in your pyjamas. I’m pleased you like reading, it’s a nice way to end the day.’
It was 7.30 p.m. when we arrived home and the air was still warm, so the children ate the cheese on toast and cherry tomatoes I made for them sitting on the patio, while I took Max’s bag upstairs to unpack. All children in care feel more at home once they have some of their belongings around them, and I always make it a priority to unpack. It would also mean that Max would have fresh clothes for tomorrow without me running the washer-dryer tonight. I set the bag on the floor and unzipped it. I found Buzz and sat him on the bed where Max liked him and returned Adrian’s Buzz to his room. I began unpacking Max’s clothes, folding and hanging them in the drawers and wardrobe. As I did I noticed that all the labels showed they were for age 12 or older, as the pyjamas he’d worn the night before had, and of course they’d all been shortened in the arms and legs. However, while his school uniform had been neatly turned up and hemmed, as had the one he’d arrived in, his casual clothes were either rolled up or fastened with a safety pin. His pyjamas had been cut to length and were now fraying badly at the raw edges. I wondered why Caz hadn’t bothered to take up all his clothes properly, as it looked so much better and stopped the hem from fraying. There wasn’t much in the holdall, and I was aware that some parents of children in care purposely didn’t send many of their child’s belongings to the foster carer, in the hope that the child would soon be home. Having unpacked Max’s bag, I stowed it on top of his wardrobe. I went downstairs to start bringing the children up to bed and for a moment I thought Max had eaten the cherry tomatoes I’d put on his plate, but then Adrian said, ‘Max didn’t want his tomatoes, so I had them.’
‘OK, love, but that won’t do Max any good, will it?’ I said lightly.
‘I hate tomatoes,’ Max said.
‘They may not like you either,’ Adrian quipped, and both boys laughed.
I took Paula up to bed first, then Max and Adrian, and by a quarter to nine all three children were in bed. Paula was fast asleep and the boys were reading. Downstairs I took the opportunity to check a few details in the essential information forms, the first being the names of Max’s sisters. If I was going to meet them every evening, it would help to know their names and give me a better chance of establishing a relationship with them. I flicked through the sheets and found the page I wanted. They were called Kelly, Paris and Summer, aged seventeen, fifteen and thirteen respectively. Then I turned the page to the section that covered the reason Max was in care: he’d been left alone in the house while his mother was in hospital having her toes amputated. She had type 2 diabetes, and the primary cause of this condition was obesity. I struggled to understand why, having suffered so much, Caz appeared to be inflicting the same fate on her children, for clearly if something didn’t change Kelly, Paris, Summer and Max were all going to suffer as their mother was.
Chapter Seven
Max was already snoring loudly when I went up to bed, so I shut all the children’s bedroom doors, including his. Usually – unless a child specifically asks to have their door completely closed – I leave it ajar so I can hear them in the night if they are out of bed or upset, but I didn’t want Adrian being woken up again, and Max had slept well the night before. Knowing him a little
