When I collected Max from after-school club that afternoon I quietly asked him if Mrs Marshall had spoken to him about sports day. He nodded. ‘How do you feel about going now?’ I asked.
‘I think it will be a challenge, but one I can overcome,’ he said proudly.
‘Well done,’ I said, patting him on the shoulder. And well done, Mrs Marshall, I thought, for clearly these were her words and they seemed to have done the trick.
Before we left for the hospital that evening I handed Max the bag of sweets I’d bought. ‘Wow!’ he said, his eyes lighting up, as did Adrian’s and Paula’s.
‘They are for you to share with your mother and sisters,’ I said to Max. ‘And you two can have something in the café,’ I told Adrian and Paula so they wouldn’t feel left out.
‘Thank you. That is kind,’ Max said, looking at the bag and genuinely surprised.
Judging from his reaction, I thought (as Jill had done) that the request to bring in sweets hadn’t come from him but his mother. Caz could easily have asked me. Indeed, much of what she’d complained about to Jo she could have mentioned to me, rather than making an issue of it. I hoped that before long she would drop her hostility and start to try to interact with me – for Max’s sake. But when we arrived at the hospital that evening I realized it wasn’t going to be any time soon. Empowered by the complaints she’d made to Jo and having them acted on, she was ready with more. Upright on her pillows, surrounded by her entourage and clutching the bag of sweets Max had given to her, she glared at me. ‘You need to bring his inhaler in with him. It’s irresponsible not to. He’s got asthma.’
‘Absolutely,’ I agreed. ‘I take it everywhere with us.’ Opening my bag I took out the inhaler and placed it on the bed beside her. ‘I’ll leave it with you for safekeeping. And here’s a few grapes I thought you might all enjoy.’ I set the bag beside the inhaler.
‘Oh, I love grapes,’ Kelly said, immediately dipping her hand into the bag. Caz scowled at her as if she was letting down their side.
‘They’ve been washed,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you later. Have a nice evening.’ I turned and left. It was quiet as I walked away, no laughing, although I could feel Caz looking daggers at me.
Upstairs in the café Adrian and Paula chose a chocolate biscuit each to have with their drinks and we settled at our usual table, close to the play area.
‘Why doesn’t Max’s mother like you?’ Adrian asked. I guessed he’d read her body language, for I doubted he or Paula could have heard what she’d said from where they’d been waiting by the ward door.
‘She’s angry because Max had to go into care.’
‘But it’s not your fault,’ Adrian said, with a shrug.
‘I know. Don’t worry, I’m sure things will improve. Max is happy, so that’s the main thing.’
‘Do his sisters like us?’ Paula asked.
‘I’m sure they do,’ I replied.
She shrugged just as Adrian had done.
‘Copycat,’ he said.
‘You’re a copycat,’ Paula retaliated.
‘There you are, you’ve done it again. Copycat.’ He grinned provocatively.
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘Enough,’ I said. ‘Adrian, have you brought your homework with you to do?’
‘We haven’t got any.’ Homework was tailing off with the end of term approaching.
‘OK, so find something to do.’
With a small sigh he took his book from his bag. ‘I’ll read for a bit, but it’s boring here. I could be at home in the garden.’
‘I know. It shouldn’t be for much longer,’ I sympathized. I felt it too. Although we kept ourselves occupied, all our evenings had vanished, taken up with the hospital visiting when there were so many more productive things we could be doing.
When we returned to the ward Adrian and Paula waited in their usual place by the door while I went over to Caz’s bed. All four bags of sweets were empty and so too was the bag of grapes, the empty bags and sweet wrappers scattered across the bed. I resisted the temptation to start clearing them up.
‘Did Max ask you about sports day?’ I said to Caz.
‘Yes, but clearly I won’t be going,’ she rebuffed.
‘But I wondered if the girls or Max’s father might like to go. Anyway, he’s told you the details – Friday at one o’clock.’
Ignoring me, she pointedly turned her head and began talking to her daughters. Max seemed to accept her behaviour as normal, and again I was reminded of Mrs Marshall’s comparison with Roald Dahl’s Matilda. Max was so different to his family.
From that evening on, as well as buying Max sweets to take into hospital I also bought some fruit, washing it first: grapes, strawberries, blueberries, tangerines and apples, which I sliced. No one said thank you, but according to Max they all enjoyed them, including his mother. I felt my small olive branch of friendship had been partially accepted.
The letter advising me of the appointment for Max’s medical arrived the following morning. It had been arranged for 2 p.m. on Thursday at the local health centre. I didn’t think it was appropriate to take Paula, and Adrian might need collecting from school if it overran, so I telephoned my parents and asked them if they were free to help. Mum said they were and they’d be delighted to come. I suggested they stay for dinner and Mum said she’d make a pudding and bring it with her. They lived about an hour’s drive away and had helped me out before. Indeed, since my husband had left they’d been a great support and my father was a fine male role model for Adrian, who missed his father more than he admitted. I mentioned to Mum that Max was considerably overweight so that she and Dad were prepared. This would be the first time they met him, and while they’d never comment, they may have had to hide their surprise or shock, and children pick up non-verbal signs just as adults do. Similarly, when I fostered a child with very challenging behaviour I always warned my parents in advance so they were prepared. Fostering involves the whole family, which often includes grandparents, aunts and uncles. While I would never divulge confidential information to them, some things they need to know so that family get-togethers run smoothly and are pleasant for everyone.
Jo’s instructions to give Max whatever he wanted to eat had created a double standard for me. I encouraged Adrian and Paula (and all the other children I’d fostered) to eat healthily and I wasn’t about to change that. Neither was I going to restock my cupboards with bottles of fizzy drinks, packets of biscuits, cakes, bags of sweets and so on, but I recognized I had to make some concessions. I still intended to offer Max the healthy option by, for example, putting vegetables on his plate, which he could leave if he didn’t want them, as he had been doing. We’d drink water with our meals, although I did say that as Nana and Grandpa were coming to dinner on Thursday it was a special occasion, so I’d buy some fizzy drinks. I asked the children what they’d like. Max chose cola and Adrian and Paula lemonade. I felt this was a reasonable compromise and one evening of fizzy drinks wasn’t going to rot their teeth. Similarly, if Max really didn’t want to walk somewhere, we could take the car if practical. As Jill had said, Max wouldn’t be with me for very long, so there was little point in ‘making big changes’.
On Thursday my parents arrived in good time for me to collect Max from school for his medical and made a huge fuss of Paula as they always did. Dad gave me a bunch of flowers and then Mum produced a wonderful homemade fruit trifle and a pot of cream from a cooler bag for dessert. I thanked her, resisted the temptation to try it, and put the trifle and cream in the fridge, then made them a cup of tea, which they had in the garden. Before I left I reminded them