Cruel to Be Kind

Max enjoyed the film and enjoyed the popcorn even more. He’d looked slightly surprised in the foyer when I’d said he could have a box of popcorn and a fizzy (zero-calorie) drink. But it was part of the treat of going to the cinema, and like all treat foods, having it occasionally wasn’t going to harm him as long as he ate healthily the rest of the time, which he was now doing generally.

  That evening telephone contact with his mother was a little easier. Caz, expecting the call, answered and managed to hold it all together. I asked her how she was and she said a flat ‘Getting by’. I passed the handset to Max and although his mother didn’t have much to say, Max told her about our trip to the cinema, including the large box of popcorn, which he said was bigger than the microwave popcorn they made at home. Summer and Kelly also spoke to him. Kelly asked him if he’d heard from Paris and he said no. Then she asked him if I had Paris’s foster carer’s telephone number and Max asked me. I said I didn’t and his mother should ask Jo on Monday about arrangements for talking to and seeing Paris. Max repeated this to Kelly. When they’d finished he said goodbye and hung up, then asked if he could phone Paris.

  ‘I’ll ask Jo when I speak to her next week,’ I said. ‘She will tell us about the contact arrangements.’ I couldn’t promise that he’d be able to phone Paris, but I thought it was very likely. I’d had experience in the past of sibling phone contact with children I’d fostered, as generally it’s considered important for siblings to maintain their bonds. It could be that he would have face-to-face contact with Paris, but at this point I simply didn’t know what arrangements Jo would make.

  On Sunday morning we left straight after breakfast to go to my parents’ house to collect Adrian and Paula. I was so pleased to see them again, as was Max. It was lovely that they’d had this special time with their nana and grandpa, but I’d missed them more than I cared to admit. They’d only been away a few days and I’d had Max to look after, but I’d felt as though part of me was missing. It was a stark reminder of the unbelievably huge adjustments parents of children taken into care have to make.

  Mum and Dad made a fuss of Max, and Adrian and Paula were pleased to see him again. Mum made a roast dinner and then we went for a short walk to their local park, then left at four o’clock to return home. Mum and Dad had to be up early in the morning as they were going on a coach outing for the day to the coast. ‘Remember to take your buckets and spades,’ Adrian joked as we left.

  ‘We will!’ my father returned.

  Paula was quiet in the car and I asked her if she was OK. ‘I’ll miss Nana,’ she said, pulling an unhappy face.

  ‘I’m sure you will. You’ve had a lovely time, but we’ll see her and Grandpa again soon.’ She would have been spoilt with all the one-to-one attention, whereas at home my time was split between the three of them. Another side effect of fostering as a single parent.

  But once home Adrian and Paula were pleased to be reunited with Toscha, all their toys and to be in their own bedrooms again. They were still up there playing when it was time for Max to telephone his mother. I called him down and we went into the living room, where we sat side by side on the sofa and I keyed in the telephone number for his home. Kelly answered and said with some attitude that Max couldn’t talk to his mother, as she was in bed ill, as if it was my fault.

  ‘Oh dear, what’s the matter with her?’ I asked, ignoring the slight.

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Have you spoken to a doctor?’

  ‘No. Bet came round and said she was run down and needed a rest, and to tell the nurse tomorrow when she comes to change her dressing.’

  ‘OK.’ So I assumed that Bet would seek medical help if necessary, and I passed the phone to Max, explaining that his mother was having a lie down.

  He spoke to Kelly first and then Summer, telling them both that we’d been to see my parents and had a big roast dinner, and Adrian and Paula were home now and he was playing with them. Just having them here had brightened his mood. However, unfortunately, Summer told him that he and Paris would be able to go home soon. I didn’t know why she said that, probably she was just trying to think of something positive to tell him, but it was unrealistic and unsettling.

  Once they’d finished and had said goodbye Max repeated what she’d said: ‘Paris and me can go home soon.’ He was smiling. I had to explain that Jo would decide when they could go home and as far as I knew it wasn’t yet, as she’d need to be sure that his mother was well enough to look after him. Although Max was in care under a Section 20 (as Paris would be) and technically Caz could remove them from care when she wanted to, Jo had said that with the revelations about their father’s abuse she would apply for a court order to keep them in care, if necessary. No social worker would return a child to a parent who was known to be violent and had sexually assaulted his daughter.

  ‘Why did Summer say that?’ Max asked.

  ‘I think she’s missing you and hoping to see you soon.’ Which he accepted. Later I overheard him telling Adrian that Paris was also with a foster carer and he hoped to see her or speak to her on the phone soon, so I thought he’d accepted what I’d said.

  On Monday morning, when Max woke, he asked me if he would be seeing his mother that day. I said I hoped so and I’d tell him as soon as I’d heard from Jo. Once up, and with Adrian and Paula home, he was gainfully occupied so didn’t keep asking me when he could see his mother or if he could have food. All three children played nicely together in the garden and at eleven o’clock Jill telephoned. I took the call in the living room from where I could see the children through the patio doors. Jill asked me if we’d had a good weekend, how Max was and if I’d heard from Jo. I said I was waiting to hear from her about the contact arrangements. She said she’d phone her now and get back to me. She also made an appointment to visit us the following week for one of her supervisory visits.

  Jill phoned again after lunch and said she’d spoken briefly to Jo – she was very busy – and there was still an issue with transport – getting Caz to and from the Family Centre – much as there had been on Friday. The social services could provide a cab to take and collect her, but Caz was insisting she needed an ambulance with a wheelchair, as it was too far for her to walk from a cab into the centre. She’d told Jo that ambulance transportation was provided for her hospital appointments, so she needed it if she was going to get to the Family Centre. I suppose her request was reasonable, although she had been getting around on crutches at home. Jill said they were still trying to find transport, but she doubted contact would take place this afternoon. I didn’t say anything to Max until we knew for certain. Jill called back an hour later to say that no suitable transport was available until the following day, so contact had been set up from two o’clock to three-thirty the next day – Tuesday.

  ‘I’ll tell Max,’ I said. ‘Should he phone his mother this evening?’

  ‘Yes, I would think so,’ Jill replied. ‘I’ll let Jo know.’

  ‘Do we know what’s happening about contact for the rest of the week?’ I asked. I hoped it wasn’t going to be two to three-thirty every day, as it would stop us having further days out. There were only two weeks left until the new school term started and I wanted to make the most of it.

  ‘No, not yet,’ Jill said.

  Having said goodbye, I went into the garden and, taking Max to one side, I said that he’d be able to speak to his mother on the telephone that evening, and then tomorrow he’d see her at the Family Centre. He took the news with his usual fortitude and returned to play with Adrian and Paula.

  I know from experience that arrangements and situations can and do change quickly in fostering. One of the requirements of being a good foster carer is adaptability. However, even as an experienced foster carer I was taken aback by the swiftness of the change of events that now followed. At six o’clock Max and I took up our usual positions on the sofa, ready to telephone his mother, while Adrian and Paula stayed in the garden, playing. I keyed in Max’s home phone number and one of t
he girls answered with a quick, ‘Hi.’ As usual I wasn’t sure if it was Kelly or Summer.

  ‘It’s Cathy,’ I said.

  ‘Hi, Cathy,’ she said brightly. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ I said, slightly thrown by her upbeat tone.

  ‘It’s Paris.’

  ‘Paris! What are you doing there?’

  ‘I’ve come back home.’ My heart sank.

  ‘But why? You should have given it longer. It takes time to settle into a foster family. What about your father and all the reasons you put yourself into care?’

  ‘He’s not here,’ she explained.

  I glanced at Max, who was watching me closely. ‘Just a minute,’ I said to Paris. Then to Max: ‘Can you go and play in the garden with Adrian and Paula for a few moments, please? I’ll call you when it’s time for you to speak.’ Aware there was a drama unfolding at home, he was reluctant to leave. ‘Now, please,’ I said more firmly. I didn’t want him hearing this until I knew what was going on. With a small sigh, he heaved himself off the sofa and went out through the patio doors.

  ‘Sorry, Paris,’ I said. ‘I’ll put Max on in a moment to talk to you. You said your father isn’t there now, but I’m assuming he’ll be back later this evening. Then what?’ I was obviously concerned for her safety.

  ‘No, you don’t understand,’ she said, her voice rising. ‘Mum has thrown him out. She’s not going to let him come back. Ever.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘This afternoon. She’s done well, hasn’t she?’ In a way, yes, I thought. It must have taken a lot of courage for Caz to stand up to the man who’d been bullying and assaulting her for years. But I knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

  ‘Does Jo know?’ I asked.

  ‘Not yet. Mum’s going to phone her tomorrow. The office is closed now. I’ve only been back an hour.’

  ‘Does your foster carer know?’ It occurred to me that if Paris had just disappeared, her carer would be worried sick.

  ‘Yes, she tried to stop me. She wanted me to wait until tomorrow when we could discuss it with Jo. But the only reason I left home was because of him and he’s gone now.’

  ‘Paris, can I talk to your mother, please? Is she able to come to the phone?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. She’s here. I’ll speak to Max when you’ve finished talking to her, yeah?’

  ‘Yes. But could I ask you not to tell him he’ll be going home?’

  ‘OK. Why not?’

  ‘We don’t know for certain when that will be. You’re older, it’s slightly different for you. But the reason Max came into care was because he wasn’t being looked after while your mother was in hospital and was left at home by himself.’

  ‘Oh yeah. But we won’t do that again, and Mum’s not in hospital any more.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Here she is. I’ll put her on. I’m going to unpack.’ I could hear the jubilation in Paris’s voice. Of course she was happy to be home.

  ‘Hi, Cathy,’ Caz said, coming to the phone. ‘I’ve done well, throwing that bastard out, haven’t I? The girls are proud of me. Ouch, my foot’s killing me. But I can cope with anything now. Can’t wait to have Max back.’ I’d never heard her sound so positive and upbeat.

  ‘Caz, I’ve asked Paris not to tell Max he’s going home yet.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think you need to discuss the time frame with Jo first,’ I said diplomatically.

  There was silence.

  ‘And perhaps you could ask Kelly and Summer not to mention it to Max either. He’ll be so disappointed if he thinks he can return home now like Paris, and he can’t.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t he? I’ll phone Jo first thing in the morning and tell her I want him home tomorrow. I assume you can bring him in your car with all his belongings?’

  ‘Yes, if that’s what Jo wants me to do.’

  ‘No problem then. I agreed to Max going into care voluntarily after he got left home alone. There’s no court order, so I can have him back when I want.’

  ‘Yes, but talk to Jo first.’

  ‘OK. You know, sometimes it takes a shock to make you realize what you stand to lose. I’ve spent all my adult life believing I couldn’t manage without that bastard after he rescued me from my stepfather. I chose to ignore what was going on under my own eyes until Paris put herself into care. That was the shock I needed to stand up to him and put my kids first. He’s gone and he’s not coming back.’

  ‘What if he returns?’ I asked. ‘Presumably he has a key.’

  ‘Bet’s going to have the locks changed, but he won’t be back. He knows when he’s well off.’

  ‘Well off?’ I asked, puzzled. I couldn’t see how being thrown out of your home made you well off.

  ‘Paris told him that she wouldn’t make a statement to the police as long as he stayed away.’

  ‘I see.’ So he’d been let off, I thought but didn’t say.

  ‘So he’s gone for good, with his tail between his legs,’ Caz said. ‘He can cry on her shoulder now. Well, good luck to her, I say. She’s welcome to him.’

  ‘He has someone else?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, didn’t you know?’

  ‘No.’ There was no reason why I should.

  ‘She’s got two kids by him, plus three of her own. I bet she doesn’t let on to the benefits office that he’s moved in. I put up with him being with her when he fancied because I felt I wasn’t worth any better. So he won’t be coming back here. Not if he knows what’s good for him.’

  ‘Does Max know of this other family?’ I asked, surprised by this revelation.

  ‘Not sure. He might have heard the girls and me talking about it. I never told him.’

  Max was smart, so I thought he probably knew.

  ‘What about Jo? Does she know?’ I asked, for there could be safeguarding concerns there too.

  ‘She does now. Put Max on, will you, so I can talk to him? He can speak to the girls after.’

  I stood, went to the patio doors and called Max to the phone. I hoped Caz wouldn’t tell him he was going home tomorrow. But she did. Almost immediately. He put the phone to his ear and within a few seconds he was grinning. ‘Really? Tomorrow?’ he said, looking at me for my reaction. But I didn’t say anything until the very end, after he’d finished speaking to his sisters.

  He told each of them in turn that he was going home tomorrow, so by the time he spoke to Paris, who went last, it was general knowledge and her promise not to tell him was redundant. Once he’d said goodbye he was eager to go into the garden to tell Adrian and Paula.

  ‘Max, just a minute,’ I said. ‘Before you go I need to say something.’ He looked at me questioningly. ‘I’ve been a foster carer for a long while and some of the children who returned home didn’t go as quickly as their parents would have liked. It might be that Jo says you can go home tomorrow, in which case I’ll take you. Or it might be she wants you to stay here for a bit longer.’

  ‘To make sure I don’t get left home alone again?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, and other things.’

  ‘It was frightening being left all by myself without any dinner.’

  ‘I know. So Jo needs to make sure that won’t happen again.’

  He nodded. ‘Can I go and play now?’

  ‘Of course, love.’

  He went outside to join Adrian and Paula. Max was sensible and seemed to have accepted my cautionary message. I saw no need to tell him about the concerns there would be around his father – it was enough that he understood he might not be going home tomorrow. As it turned out, I’d been right to issue the warning, for Max didn’t go home the next day – far from it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sea Otters Hold Hands

  ‘Am I going home today?’ Max asked the following morning when he woke.

  ‘I’m not sure yet,’ I said. ‘We’ll have to see what Jo says.’

  ‘If I don’t go home, will I see my mummy?’

  ?
??I hope so.’

  I knew my replies sounded vague, but I’d learnt in fostering never to make a promise to a child about contact or going home unless it was 100 per cent certain, and then some.

  At nine o’clock, around the time Caz had said she’d be telephoning Jo, we were all seated at the table having breakfast. I intended to telephone Jill once we’d finished to give her an update – that Paris had taken herself home and Caz wanted Max home today. However, at 9.30 a.m., just as I was clearing up the breakfast dishes, the phone rang and I answered it in the kitchen. The children were on their way upstairs to brush their teeth. It was Caz and she was so upset and angry that she could barely get her words out.

  ‘Jo is off sick! I had to wait ages to speak to her manager. She says there’s no way Max can come home today or this week. She says – and I can’t believe this – that someone from the department will have to make a home visit, maybe more than one, so our case can be reviewed! Case! We’re a case now!’ Her voice caught and she had to take a deep breath. ‘Jo’s manager said they’re short-staffed anyway and with Jo off sick and other social workers on annual leave, she couldn’t say how long it would take. I hit the roof. I mean to say – I told her I’d send a cab for Max if necessary and do you know what she said?’ I could guess, but I kept quiet. ‘She had the cheek to say that if I tried to take him from you, she’d apply for a court order straight away. That’s blackmail, isn’t it?’ Her voice faltered with a cry.

  I waited until she’d recovered before I spoke. ‘Caz, I know how upsetting this is, but if the social services have concerns, they would have to apply for a court order if you tried to take him. They wouldn’t have any choice. I think Jo told you something similar a while ago.’

  ‘Yes, but that was when his father was living here. I told her manager he’d gone and he wouldn’t be coming back. But she said there were still certain safeguarding issues – like would he be looked after properly. Kelly says we should get ourselves a good lawyer and fight them.’ Her voice broke again.