Cruel to Be Kind: Part 1 of 3. Cathy Glass
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Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.
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First published by HarperElement 2017
FIRST EDITION
© Cathy Glass 2017
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
Cover photograph © Iwona Podlasińska/Arcangel Images (boy, posed by a model)
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Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780008252007
Ebook Edition © August 2017 ISBN: 9780008252045
Version: 2020-01-28
Contents
Chapter Four: A Healthy Appetite?
A big thank you to my family; my editors, Carolyn and Holly; my literary agent, Andrew; my UK publishers HarperCollins, and my overseas publishers who are now too numerous to list by name. Last, but definitely not least, a big thank you to my readers for your unfailing support and kind words. They are much appreciated.
Since I began writing my fostering memoirs ten years ago, the number of children in care in the UK has risen to an all-time high of 70,000. Children come into care for many reasons, including physical, emotional and sexual abuse, neglect or a crisis in the family where there is no one to look after them. It is always very sad when a family is separated, and of course the child suffers. This is the story of one of those children: Max.
Chapter One
‘His mother is in hospital having two toes amputated and there have been complications.’
‘Oh dear. I am sorry,’ I said.
‘Max is going to be very upset when I tell him he won’t be going home,’ Jo, Max’s social worker, continued. ‘It will be the first time he’s been in foster care, although his family are known to the social services. I’m anticipating collecting him at the end of school and then bringing him straight to you, so I’m afraid he’ll just have what he stands up in.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of spare clothes.’ I already knew that Max was six years old.
‘Good. Hopefully I’ll be able to get some of his belongings tomorrow. I’m going to see his mother, Caz, this evening after I’ve brought Max to you. She wants him to visit her in hospital.’
‘This evening?’ I asked, aware that it would be late and Max would already be very unsettled.
‘Yes.’
‘And you want him to go to school tomorrow?’ I needed to know so I could make arrangements to take him.
‘I don’t see why not. I’ll let you know the name and address of his school and the other information you’ll need when I see you later.’
‘OK. Thank you.’
We said goodbye.
It was now 2 p.m. and I went straight upstairs. I’d been fostering long enough to have accumulated spare clothes for emergency use for children of most ages. Sometimes I had plenty of notice when a child was being brought into care and could prepare for their needs, even meet the child if it was a planned move, but many children just arrived – as Max was going to – with very little notice.
I went first to the airing cupboard