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THE ASSESSMENT
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2026-03-01 16:10:36He arrived on a Wednesday, which Ada would later think was exactly the right day for him to arrive midweek, when the rhythm of the home was settled and everyone was simply getting on with things, nobody performing.
Ada was in with Mr. Patel when she heard Sharon's voice at the end of the corridor, the particular pitch she used for visitors. She didn't look up from what she was doing adjusting the television remote so Mr. Patel could reach it without stretching his shoulder.
Mr. Patel, there you go. Strictly at four, yes?
And the cricket,Mr. Patel said, with the dignity of a man who had very few non-negotiables left. If there is cricket.
If there is cricket, Ada confirmed.
She was turning to leave when Sharon appeared in the doorway with a man Ada had not seen before. He was tall taller than the doorframe seemed designed for and he held a folder against his chest with the posture of someone who was used to walking into rooms where he wasn't entirely expected.
Ada, this is Daniel Osei. Social worker, here for Mr. Patel's assessment.
Ms. Okonkwo." He extended his hand.
She shook it. His handshake was firm without performing firmness. Mr. Osei.
Daniel is fine.
Daniel, she said, and moved to stand beside Mr. Patel's bed without entirely meaning to a positioning she recognised as protective. I wasn't notified the assessment was today.
It was arranged through the GP practice. He said it without apology or defensiveness, as a simple fact. I can reschedule if it's a bad time.
It's fine. Ada glanced at Mr. Patel, who was watching the exchange with the bright-eyed interest of someone who hadn't had entertainment this good in weeks. Mr. Patel, this gentleman is going to ask you some questions about how you're managing. Is that all right?
Only if you stay, Mr. Patel said.
Ada looked at Daniel. Daniel looked at Ada. Something passed between them an acknowledgement that the real power in this room was in the bed between them, wearing a cardigan.
Of course, Daniel said, pulling up a chair.
Ada stayed.
Daniel's approach was different from most assessors she had seen. He didn't work from his form first. He set it on his knee and talked to Mr. Patel like a person about the cricket, about Mr. Patel's former career as a pharmacist, about the view from the window. The questions came naturally out of the conversation rather than being imposed upon it.
Ada found herself relaxing by degrees. She hadn't expected to.
Mr. Patel, Daniel said, "is there anything you feel you need that you're not currently getting?
A pause. Mr. Patel looked at his hands. My son calls on Sundays. But he is very busy. He has children. I understand. He paused again. I would like to speak to someone who knew Kavitha. My wife. Someone who remembers her as she was.
The room was quiet for a moment.
I'll note that, Daniel said. There are befriending services volunteers who visit regularly, who can listen. I'll look into what's available in this area.
Mr. Patel nodded, and Ada caught the careful way Daniel had handled it not promising what he couldn't deliver, not dismissing what had been offered.
Afterwards, in the corridor, Daniel made notes on his form while Ada waited for no particular reason she could identify.
He's well supported here, Daniel said without looking up. You clearly know him.
I've been here three years. You learn people.
Most places I visit, the staff can tell me the medication schedule but not what the resident dreamed of being when they were twenty. He looked up then. You could tell me what Mr. Patel dreamed of.
He wanted to open his own pharmacy. In Nairobi, where he grew up. He ended up in Coventry instead." She paused. "He doesn't seem to mind.
Daniel smiled a slow, considered thing that started in his eyes before it reached his mouth. He seems to have made peace with the distance between what we plan and what actually happens.
Something in the phrasing caught at Ada. She didn't examine it then.
Thank you for staying in the assessment, he said. "It made a difference to him.
Your approach was good, Ada said. Different from what I usually see.
He looked slightly caught off guard by the directness. Then: Thank you.
He left. Ada went back to her round.
That evening she replied to his email.
Dear Daniel, apologies for the delayed response. Thank you for the update on Mr. Patel's case. Best, Ada.
She read it back. Deleted 'Ada'. Replaced it with 'Ms. Okonkwo'. Read it again. Deleted that. Typed 'Ada'. Sent it before she could change her mind again.
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