She shrugged. ‘Not really. I’ve heard of it, but I don’t really know exactly what it means.’
‘Me neither. You continue watching the programme while I check online.’
‘It’s OK, I’ll wait for you,’ she said, and kept the programme on pause.
I picked up my mobile phone and entered gender-fluid into the search engine. As a foster carer I attended regular training, but so far the training on sexual matters had centred around keeping children in care safe – paedophiles, STDs (sexually transmitted diseases), birth control and so on. Gender-fluidity hadn’t been covered, but I knew how important it was to keep abreast of such matters, as well as acquiring the correct terminology. In the twenty-five years I’d been fostering, children in care had variously been known as FC (foster child), CiC (child in care), LAC (looked-after child), and the foster parents as Mum and Dad, foster mum and dad, and foster carers. This was the tip of the iceberg; beneath that lay a mass of acronyms ready to catch out any unsuspecting foster carer: SSW (supervising social worker), CPP (child-protection plan), CIN (child in need) and IEP (individual education plan), to name a few.
‘Gender-fluid’, I read out from my phone, ‘is someone who does not see themselves as having a fixed gender – that is, male or female.’
‘Oh,’ said Paula.
I read on: ‘It’s not about the sex they were born, but about how they see themselves. A gender-fluid person may identify as male or female or a combination of both. Their gender can vary with their circumstance. Gender-fluid people may be known as multigender, non-binary or transgender.’ See what I mean about terminology! ‘They may also be known as genderqueer.’
‘That doesn’t sound a very nice term,’ Paula said, and I agreed. But at least I now had an understanding of what gender-fluid meant, which was just as well, for as Paula pressed play for us to continue watching the television series the landline phone rang again. Paula sighed and pressed pause as I reached over to answer the handset in the living room.
‘Is that Cathy Glass?’ a female voice asked.
‘Yes, speaking.’
‘I’m Verity Meldrew, Stevie’s social worker. I believe Edith has spoken to you about Stevie and you’ve agreed to take him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. I’ll give you some background information then.’
‘That would be helpful.’
‘The social services have been involved with the family since Steven – or rather Stevie – was born. His mother has a long history of alcohol and drug dependency and has been diagnosed with alcohol psychosis, resulting in her having hallucinations and delusions. She has spent time in a psychiatric unit, but at present is in prison. She has no face-to-face contact with Stevie, although in the past they may have been in contact through social media. As far as we are aware Stevie has no contact with his father. Stevie’s maternal grandparents have brought him up and are working with us, so he will be coming into care under a Section 20.’ This is also known as ‘accommodated’ and means that no court order is required, as the parents or guardians of the child (in this case the grandparents) have agreed to the child going into care voluntarily.
‘Stevie’s grandparents have guardianship of the two younger siblings,’ Verity continued. ‘There are no issues with their care, so they will be staying with them. However, the grandparents have been under huge pressure and have reached the point where they feel they can no longer cope with Stevie’s challenging behaviour. It came to a head when they received notice threatening court action in respect of Stevie not attending school.’
‘I see. Do we know why he hasn’t been going to school?’ I asked.
‘He says it’s not relevant to him. He’s a nice kid but is struggling with a number of issues. He’s got into trouble at school, although the school has been supportive, especially in respect of his gender identity. He sees himself as gender-fluid – you know what that means?’
‘Yes,’ I was able to say.
‘Good. His grandparents can’t deal with it and feel he is a bad influence on his younger siblings.’
‘How old are they?’
‘Six and eight. I think Stevie’s been winding up his grandparents, but I’m sure he’ll settle once he’s in care.’ How often had I heard that? I thought. ‘I’d like to bring him for a pre-placement visit, and his grandparents would like to meet you before the move too, but they will need to arrange child care for the younger two.’
‘OK. When were you thinking of?’
‘I’ll bring Stevie for a pre-placement visit tomorrow, the twenty-eighth, then set up a meeting with the grandparents for the following morning, the twenty-ninth, and move him in the afternoon.’
‘That’s fine with me,’ I said, making a mental note of the arrangements.
‘I’ll be in touch with the times and to confirm the dates.’
‘Thank you.’ We said goodbye and Paula and I continued watching the detective series. However, my thoughts were not on the programme but with Stevie. Many young people his age are moody, withdrawn and confrontational at times – it’s part of the teenage years – but what was worrying was that he wasn’t attending school. Not only because he was missing out on an important part of his education, but school offers socialisation – a place to meet and make friends. Children who are not in school can become very isolated. It also leaves them unoccupied for large parts of the day. I’d fostered young people before who weren’t in school and had found there were only so many activities I could provide at home before they grew bored and went off, hanging around the streets with the potential for getting up to all sorts of mischief. School gives structure to the day. Edith had said that Stevie’s school was being supportive, so I hoped it wouldn’t be long before I had him attending school again. Although I sympathised with his grandparents, as I knew from experience just how difficult it was to persuade a fourteen-year-old out of bed and into school.
A short while later a key went in the front door and Lucy, my twenty-one-year-old daughter, let herself in. She’d been visiting a friend. ‘Hi!’ she called from the hall, kicking off her shoes.
‘We’re in here!’ I returned.
Sammy, our (rescue) cat, raised his head at the sound of her voice and then returned to sleep.
‘You’re never watching daytime television, surely!’ Lucy exclaimed with a laugh as she came into the living room. I didn’t normally watch daytime television and discouraged others from doing so, feeling they could be engaged in a more productive activity, but it was the Christmas holidays.
‘It’s catch-up,’ Paula said.
‘Are you going to join us?’ I asked Lucy.
‘No. I’ve got a few things to sort out ready for work tomorrow.’
‘All right, love. Edith phoned while you were out about a fourteen-year-old lad who will very likely be coming to stay,’ I told her. ‘She’s planning on bringing him for a visit tomorrow and then moving him the day after.’
‘OK, cool. See you guys later then.’ Lucy disappeared off to her room.
Lucy had come to me as a foster child nearly ten years before and I’d adopted her. She couldn’t be more loved and cherished, and was as easy with fostering as Paula and my son Adrian were. Lucy had studied child care and was now working in a local nursery, while Adrian, twenty-three, had returned home to live after completing