Chapter Three

       Amazed

      I saw Adrian do a double take as Max entered the living room, but to his credit he quickly recovered and said a welcoming, ‘Hi, I’m Adrian.’

      Max nodded and lumbered over to the sofa where he heaved himself onto the seat and sat back. Jo sat beside him as Jill took one of the easy chairs. ‘What would you like to drink?’ I asked Max.

      ‘Cola,’ he said in a husky voice.

      ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got any of that,’ I said. Like many parents and carers, aware of how bad sweet fizzy drinks were for children’s teeth I limited them to special occasions. ‘You could have water, fruit juice, milk or squash,’ I offered.

      ‘Juice,’ he said.

      ‘Jo, what would you like?’ I asked.

      ‘A black coffee, please.’

      Paula came with me to make the drinks and was clearly worried. As soon as we were out of earshot she said quietly to me, ‘What’s the matter with Max?’

      ‘He got a bit out of breath. He’ll be all right soon when he’s sat quietly and had a drink.’ But I knew that wasn’t the only reason for Paula’s question. It was impossible even for a young child (who are generally very accepting of differences) not to notice Max’s size.

      ‘Will he be able to play with us?’ she asked as I made Jo’s coffee.

      ‘Yes, of course, love.’

      ‘How will he ride the bike we got out for him?’

      ‘We’ll find some games he can play,’ I said positively. ‘Now, come on, stop worrying. We’ll take him his drink.’

      I poured Max’s juice and carried it with Jo’s coffee into the living room where Jo and Jill were chatting lightly to Max, trying to put him at ease. Adrian was on the floor by the toy box, stroking Toscha. Paula went over and joined him. I gave Jo and Max their drinks and sat in another easy chair. Then a horrendous thought occurred to me. I looked at Jo. ‘Animal fur doesn’t affect Max’s breathing, does it?’ It is for reasons like this that any medical condition should be discussed with the foster carer at the time of the referral, not once the child has arrived. Children with allergies to animal fur generally have to be placed in foster families where there are no pets.

      ‘Not as far as I know,’ Jo said, taking a grateful sip of her coffee. ‘But I wasn’t aware he had asthma or was using an inhaler until today. I’ll ask his mother when I see her this evening.’ Then, looking at Max: ‘You have a cat at home, don’t you?’

      ‘Two,’ Max said. ‘Tiger and Smokey.’

      ‘Those are nice names,’ I said, relieved.

      ‘And they don’t make your breathing bad?’ Jill asked him.

      ‘No,’ Max said.

      ‘Best keep an eye on it, though,’ Jill said. Then to Jo: ‘Will he be having a medical?’

      ‘That’s something else I’ll need to discuss with his mother,’ she replied, setting her cup in its saucer. When a child first comes into care they usually have a medical. If the child is in care under a Section 20 then the parent’s permission is sought. ‘Caz told me he’d had some teeth out earlier this year,’ she added, ‘but I don’t know of any other medical conditions.’

      Max had already finished his drink, having swallowed it straight down. ‘Would you like another drink?’ I asked him, as he was clearly thirsty. He nodded. ‘What would you like?’

      ‘Juice.’

      I took his glass and went into the kitchen where I poured another glass of juice, aware that even pure juice has a high calorie content from the fructose sugar. Not a good idea for a child who is already badly overweight. Returning to the living room I passed the glass to Max and he drank down half of it in one go and then sat with the glass resting on his stomach.

      ‘Here’s the paperwork you need,’ Jo said, handing me the essential information and placement forms.

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘Could you send a copy to the agency too,’ Jill said. ‘So we have it on file.’ This was normal practice.

      ‘Yes, of course,’ Jo said. ‘Sorry, I should have realized. It’s been a busy day.’ She took a notepad from her bag and made a note.

      ‘It’s a nice house, isn’t it?’ Jill said encouragingly to Max. He nodded.

      ‘I’ll show you around later,’ I said.

      ‘I’m hoping to send some of his belongings over tomorrow,’ Jo now said. ‘One of his sisters might be able to drop them off. She passes by the end of your road most days on her way to college.’

      I looked at Jill. ‘I think we’ll need to discuss that,’ Jill said, nodding pointedly towards Max. For clearly discussing any issue in respect of Max’s family was going to be difficult in front of him. There was an awkward silence.

      ‘Now Max has recovered, perhaps he’d like to go in the garden with Adrian and Paula?’ I suggested. ‘There are some toys out there and a bench in the shade of the tree,’ I said to him.

      ‘That sounds nice,’ Jo said, appreciating my suggestion. ‘Let’s take a look, shall we?’ She set her cup and saucer on the coffee table and stood. Max, who’d been leaning right back into the sofa, began struggling to get off, shuffling forward but finding it difficult. Jo instinctively offered her hand and helped him off, as one would an elderly person. It was pathetically sad and another indication of just how being badly overweight was blighting his life. Most children would have leapt off the sofa and been down the garden in an instant.

      I looked at Max as he waddled towards the patio doors. Of average height for a six-year-old, he had short brown hair, a pleasant face, round and open, and seemed quite placid in nature. I wondered how he coped with the inevitable name-calling in the school playground. My heart went out to him. Children can be cruel and anyone who deviates from