The Silent Cry: Part 1 of 3: There is little Kim can do as her mother′s mental health spirals out of control
The Silent Cry: Part 1 of 3: There is little Kim can do as her mother's mental health spirals out of control
Cathy Glass
The heartbreaking true story of a young, troubled mother who needed help.The sixteenth fostering memoir by Cathy Glass.It is the first time Laura has been out since the birth of her baby when Cathy sees her in the school playground. A joyful occasion but Cathy has the feeling something is wrong. By the time she discovers what it is, it is too late. This is the true story of Laura whose life touches Cathy’s in a way she could never have foreseen. It is also the true stories of little Darrel, Samson and Hayley who she fosters when their parents need help. Some stories can have a happy ending and others cannot, but as a foster carer Cathy can only do her best.
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Copyright (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the children.
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First published by HarperElement 2016
FIRST EDITION
© Cathy Glass 2016
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available from the British Library
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identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780008153717
Ebook Edition © February 2016 ISBN: 9780008156572
Version: 2016-03-04
Contents
Cover (#u1c2261c7-71ad-5181-b42e-7c547fd5f087)
Title Page (#ulink_1251ef3a-a4ba-58da-8cec-b2f5d0cac9bb)
Copyright (#ulink_c8ed5650-75a9-59c0-9a18-a99a37a0b332)
Acknowledgements (#ulink_6d63d7bf-d5be-5161-93a8-0ef2e80b4948)
Prologue (#ulink_b3faed38-69a8-5dad-9ead-ca49254a7f59)
Chapter One: A Funny Turn (#ulink_e416ae7e-3eed-5ccc-aea5-e8feca1b0a97)
Chapter Two: Very Concerned (#ulink_1c8af3e4-2f3f-5efc-9d30-7ff959bdf881)
Chapter Three: Lullaby at Bedtime (#ulink_334c8454-40b0-5e45-837c-4e4cab4bf789)
Chapter Four: Shelley (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five: A Very Strange Phone Call (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six: Useless (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven: Upset (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight: A Playmate? (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine: Samson (#litres_trial_promo)
Moving Memoirs eNewsletter (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
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.
Prologue (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
The room is dark, although it’s daylight outside. Strangely dark and eerily quiet. Not a sound when there should be noise. Crying and screaming, that’s what she was expecting to hear. And the room seems smaller now too, as though the walls are gradually closing in and crushing her, crushing her to death.
She sits huddled at one end of the sofa, too scared to look around. Scared of what she might see in this unnaturally dark and quiet room that is threatening to squeeze the air out of her and squash her to nothing. Scared, too, of what lies ahead if she stands and goes to the telephone to make that call, and tells them what she’s done. They will come and take her baby for sure if she tells them that she has given birth to the devil.
Chapter One
A Funny Turn (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
Everyone loves a newborn baby and wants a little look. Even those who protest that they are not ‘baby lovers’ can’t resist a peep at the miracle of a new life. I joined the other mothers grouped around the pram in the school playground as we waited with our children for the start of school.
‘Congratulations, he’s gorgeous,’ I said, adding my own best wishes to the many others.
‘Thank you,’ Laura (the new mum) said quietly, a little bemused by all the attention.
‘How old is he now?’ I asked.
‘Two weeks.’
‘Aah, he’s adorable.’
‘Make the most of every moment,’ another mother said. ‘They grow up far too quickly.’
My own daughter, Paula, aged thirteen months, was sitting in the stroller and wanted to have a look too, so I unclipped the safety harness and lifted her out so she could see into the pram.
‘Baby,’ she said cutely, pointing.
‘Yes, that’s baby Liam,’ I said.
‘Baby Liam,’ she repeated with a little chuckle.
‘You were that small once,’ I said, and she chuckled again.
‘He’s my baby brother,’ Kim, Laura’s daughter, said proudly.
‘I know. Aren’t you a lucky girl?’ I said to her, returning Paula to her stroller.
Kim nodded and touched her baby brother’s face protectively, then planted a delicate little kiss on his cheek.
The family had moved into the street where I lived about a year before. Laura and I had got to know each other a little from seeing each other on the way to and from school. My son Adrian, aged five, attended this school but was in a different year to Kim, who was seven. Living quite close to each other I kept meaning to invite Laura in for a coffee and develop our friendship, but I hadn’t found the opportunity, what with looking after my own family, fostering and studying for a degree part-time. I guessed Laura had been busy too, especially now she had a baby.
Amid all the oohings and aahings over little Liam the Klaxon sounded the start of school and parents began saying goodbye to their children.
‘Bye, love,’ I said to Adrian, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Have a good day. Make sure you eat your lunch, and have a drink.’ He’d only been in school a year and I still fussed over him.
‘Bye, Mum. Bye, Paula,’ he said, and ran over to join his class who were lining up, ready to go in.
‘Bye, little Liam,’ Kim said, leaning into the pram again to give her brother one last kiss. She clearly didn’t want to leave him. ‘See you later. Be a good boy for Mummy.’ I smiled.
‘Cathy,’ Laura said suddenly, clutching my arm. ‘I feel a bit hot. I’m going to get a drink of water. Could you stay with the pram, please?’
She turned and walked quickly towards the water fountain situated in an alcove at the far end of the building. Kim looked at me anxiously.
‘Don’t worry, love. I’ll make sure your mum is all right. You go into school.’
She hesitated, but then ran over to join her class, who were going in. I could see Laura at the fountain, leaning forward and sipping the cool water. I thought I should go over in case she was feeling faint. She’d only given birth two weeks before and I could remember how I’d sometimes suddenly felt hot and dizzy in the first few weeks after having both of my children. Pushing Paula’s stroller with my right hand and Liam’s pram with my left, I steered them across the playground to the water fountain. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked Laura as we approached.
‘Oh, yes, thank you,’ she said, straightening and wiping her mouth on a tissue. ‘I came over a bit funny. I’m all right now.’
I thought she looked pale. ‘Why don’t you sit down for a while? The children are going in.’ There were a couple of benches in the playground that the children used at playtime.
‘No, I’m all right, honestly. I just felt a bit hot and panicky. I think it was all the attention, and it is warm today.’
‘Yes, it is warm for May,’ I agreed. ‘But make sure you don’t overdo it.’
She tucked the tissue into her pocket and shook her hair from her face. ‘My husband and mother-in-law said it was too soon for me to be out and about. I guess they were right. But I was getting cabin fever staying at home all the time. I needed a change of scenery.’ She put her hands onto the pram handle ready for the off.
‘Are you going straight home?’ I asked. ‘I’ll walk with you.’
‘Yes, but there’s no need. I’ll be fine.’
‘I’d like to,’ I said. ‘I walk by your house on the way to mine.’
‘All right. Thanks.’ She flicked her hair from her face again and we began across the playground to the main gate. Laura was a tall, attractive woman, whom I guessed to be in her mid-thirties, and she was very slim despite recently giving birth. She had naturally wavy, shoulder-length brown hair, which was swept away from her forehead.
‘Is Liam sleeping and feeding well?’ I asked, making conversation as we walked.
‘Baby,’ Paula repeated, pointing to his pram travelling along beside her.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said to her. ‘Baby Liam.’
‘I’m up every three hours at night feeding him,’ Laura said. ‘But you expect that with a newborn, don’t you?’
I nodded. ‘It’s very tiring. I remember craving sleep in the first few months. If someone had offered me a night out at a top-class restaurant or seven hours unbroken sleep, I would have gone for the latter without a doubt.’
‘Agreed,’ Laura said with a small smile.
We were silent for a few moments as we concentrated on crossing the road, and then we turned the corner and began up our street. ‘How do you like living here?’ I asked, resuming conversation.
‘Fine. It’s nearer Andy’s – my husband’s – job, and his family. My mother-in-law only lives five streets away.’
‘Is that the lady I’ve seen in the playground, collecting Kim from school?’ I asked out of interest.
‘Yes. Geraldine. She’s very helpful. I don’t know what I’d do without her.’
‘It’s good to have help,’ I said. ‘My parents help me out when they can, but they live an hour’s drive away, and my husband’s family are even further away.’
‘Yes,’ Laura said, looking thoughtful. ‘My mother lives over a hundred miles away. You foster, don’t you?’
‘I do, although I’m taking a few months off at present to finish my degree. After our last foster child left my husband accepted a contract to work abroad for three months, so it seemed a good opportunity to study. The social services know I’m available for an emergency or for respite care, but I’m hoping I won’t be disturbed too often.’
‘What’s respite?’ Laura asked, interested.
‘It’s when a foster carer looks after a child for a short period to give the parents or another foster carer a break. It might just be for a weekend or a week or two, but then the child returns home or to their permanent carer.’
‘I see. It’s good of you to foster.’
‘Not really. I enjoy it. But I must admit I’ve been struggling recently to study and foster, with Paula being so little. Hopefully I’ll now have the chance to complete my dissertation.’
‘What are you studying?’
‘Education and psychology.’
She nodded. We’d now arrived outside her house, number 53, and Laura pushed open the gate. ‘Well, it’s been nice talking to you. Cathy, isn’t it?’
‘Yes – sorry, I should have said.’
‘Thanks again for helping me out in the playground. I hope I haven’t kept you.’
‘Not at all. If ever you want me to collect Kim from school or take her, do let me know. I’m there every day with Adrian.’
‘Thanks, that’s kind of you, but Geraldine, my mother-in-law, always does it if I can’t.’
‘OK. But if she can’t at any time you know where I am. And perhaps you’d like to pop in for a coffee one day when you’re free.’
She looked slightly surprised. ‘Oh, I see. That’s nice, but I expect you’re very busy.’
‘Never too busy for a coffee and a chat,’ I said with a smile. ‘I’ll give you my telephone number.’ I began delving into my bag for a pen and paper.
‘Can you give it to me another time?’ Laura said, appearing rather anxious. She began up her garden path, clearly eager to be away. ‘Sorry, but I’m dying to go to the bathroom!’ she called.
‘Yes, of course. I’ll see you later in the playground. I can give it to you then.’
‘Geraldine will probably be there,’ she returned, with her back to me, and quickly unlocking the door. ‘Push it through my letterbox.’
‘OK. Bye then.’
‘Bye!’ she called, and going in closed the front door.
‘Baby Liam,’ Paula said, pointing to the house.
‘Yes, that’s where he lives,’ I said.
‘Out!’ Paula now demanded, raising her arms to be lifted out of the stroller.
‘Yes, you can walk, but remember you always hold my hand.’
I undid the safety harness, helped her out and took her little hand in mine. ‘We always hold hands by the road,’ I reminded her. I didn’t use walking reins but insisted she held my hand.
‘Baby Liam,’ Paula said again, looking at his house.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ I glanced over. A woman, whom I now knew to be Laura’s mother-in-law, Geraldine, was looking out of the downstairs window. I smiled and gave a little wave, but she couldn’t have seen me for she turned and disappeared into the room.
‘Home,’ Paula said.
‘Yes, we’re going home now.’
We continued haltingly up the street with Paula stopping every few steps to examine something that caught her interest, including most garden gates, walls, fences, lampposts, fallen leaves, every tree in the street and most of the paving slabs. But I knew that the exercise would tire her out and that once home, after she’d had a drink and a snack, she’d have at least an hour’s sleep, which would give me the chance to continue researching and writing my dissertation: ‘The psychological impact being in care has on a child and how it affects their educational outcome.’
That afternoon, before I set off to collect Adrian from school, I wrote my telephone number on a piece of paper and tucked it into my pocket ready to give to Laura. She wasn’t in the playground and for a while it appeared that no one had come to collect Kim, for I couldn’t see Geraldine either. The Klaxon sounded for the end of school and the children began to file out, and then Geraldine rushed into the playground at the last minute and went over to Kim. Adrian arrived at my side very excited because his class was going on an outing. He handed me a printed sheet with the details of the outing and a consent form, and I carefully tucked it into my bag. I looked around for Geraldine, but she’d already gone. We joined the other parents and children filing out of the main gate and then crossed the road. As we turned the corner into our street I could see Kim and her grandmother a little way ahead. Kim turned and gave a small wave. We waved back. I was half-expecting Geraldine to turn and acknowledge us, or maybe even wait for us to catch up and fall into conversation, but she didn’t. She kept on walking until they arrived at number 53, where she opened the garden gate and began up the path. As we drew level she was opening the front door.
‘Excuse me!’ I called. She turned. ‘Could you give this to Laura, please?’ I held out the piece of paper. ‘It’s my telephone number. I said I’d let her have it. Is she all right now?’
Geraldine nodded, straight-faced, and tapped Kim on the shoulder as a signal for her to collect the paper.
Kim ran down the path and smiled at me as she took the paper. ‘Thank you,’ she said politely.
‘Say hi to your mum,’ I said.
‘I will.’
With another smile she ran back up the path to her grandmother, who’d now opened the front door and was waiting just inside, ready to close it. I smiled at her but she didn’t return the gesture, and as soon as Kim was inside she closed the door. With her short grey hair and unsmiling features Geraldine came across as stern. I was slightly surprised by her coldness, and it crossed my mind that she’d very likely seen me that morning through the front-room window and, for whatever reason, had chosen to ignore me.
Chapter Two
Very Concerned (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
I saw Geraldine in the playground every day for the rest of that week – in the morning when she took Kim to school, and in the afternoon when she collected her – but she didn’t acknowledge me or make any attempt to start a conversation. Neither did she have anything to do with any of the other parents waiting in the playground, which was unusual. It was a relatively small school, and friendly, so that eventually most people started chatting to someone as they waited for their children. But Geraldine didn’t; she hurried into the playground at the last moment and out again, aloof and stern-looking. By Friday, when Laura still hadn’t reappeared, I began to wonder if she was ill. She’d had a funny turn earlier in the week, on her first outing with Liam – perhaps she’d been sickening for something and was really poorly. Although Geraldine apparently didn’t want anything to do with me, Laura hadn’t been so hostile, and given that we lived in the same street and our children attended the same school I felt it would be neighbourly of me to ask how she was. If you are feeling unwell and someone asks after you it can be a real pick-me-up. So on Friday afternoon when Geraldine collected Kim from school I intercepted her as she hurried out of the playground.
‘I was wondering how Laura was,’ I said. ‘I’m Cathy. I live in the same street.’
‘Yes, I know who you are,’ she said stiffly. ‘Laura is fine, thank you. Why do you ask?’ Which seemed an odd question.
‘When I last saw Laura she wasn’t feeling so good. She came over a bit hot and wobbly. I wondered if she was all right now.’
‘Oh, that. It was nothing,’ Geraldine said dismissively. ‘It was far too soon for her to be going out and she realizes that now.’
I gave a small nod. ‘As long as she’s not ill.’
‘No, of course not,’ she said bluntly.
‘Good. Well, if she ever fancies a change of scenery and a coffee, she knows where I live.’
‘Oh, she won’t be up to that for a long while,’ Geraldine said tartly. ‘I’ve told her she’s not to go out for at least another four weeks, possibly longer. That’s the advice we had after giving birth.’ Taking Kim by the arm, she headed off.
Not go out for another four weeks! You could have knocked me down with a feather. Wherever had she got that from? It was nearly three weeks since Laura had given birth and as far as I knew there was no medical advice that said a new mother had to wait seven weeks before going out, unless Geraldine was confusing it with postpartum sex, but even then seven weeks was excessive if the birth had been normal. More likely, I thought, Geraldine was suffering from empty-nest syndrome and she liked being the centre of the family and having Laura rely on her. It would make her feel needed, and if that suited Laura, fine. It was none of my business. I’d been reassured that Laura wasn’t ill, and I had my family to look after and work to do.
It was the weekend and the weather was glorious, so Adrian, Paula and I spent most of Saturday in the garden, where the children played while I read and then did some gardening. On Sunday my parents came for the day and after lunch we were in the garden again. In the evening after they’d gone, my husband, John, telephoned from America where he was working. He’d got into the habit of telephoning on a Sunday evening when it was lunchtime where he was. We all took turns to speak to him and tell him our news. Even little Paula ‘spoke’ to him, although she was bemused by the workings of the telephone and kept examining the handset, trying to work out where the voice was coming from, rather than holding it to her ear.
On Monday the school week began again, and as the weather was fine we walked to and from school. I only used my car for school if it was raining hard or if I had to go somewhere straight after school. Geraldine continued to take Kim to school and collect her, and continued to ignore me and all the other parents. Perhaps she was just shy, I thought, although she had a standoffish, austere look about her. Each time I passed Laura’s house, number 53, which was four times a day (on the way to and from school), I glanced over. But there was never any sign of Laura or baby Liam, so I assumed Laura was making the most of having Geraldine in charge and was relaxing indoors or in the back garden. Sometimes Paula pointed to the house and, remembering that Liam lived there, said, ‘Baby.’ If she was out of her stroller and walking, she tried the gate – and most of the others in the street!
On Thursday afternoon, once we’d returned home from school, we hadn’t been in long when the telephone rang. It was a social worker asking if I could do some respite and look after a little boy, Darrel, aged three, for that night and all day Friday. His mother, Shelley, a young, single parent, had to go into hospital as a day patient and the person who was supposed to have been looking after Darrel had let her down at the last minute. She had no one else she could ask at such short notice, and I said I’d be happy to help and look after Darrel.
‘Shelley’s a young mum but she’s a good one,’ the social worker said. ‘She’ll bring Darrel to you at about six o’clock this evening. She said she’d bring everything he needs, but she’s fretting that she’s run out of meatless sausages. She’s a vegetarian and she’s bringing up Darrel the same. Apparently he loves meatless sausages for lunch, but she hasn’t got time to go into town and buy more. I’ve told her you’ll be able to cook him something else vegetarian.’
‘Yes, of course I will, but tell her I’ll see if I can get some of the sausages. If she’s not bringing Darrel until six, I’ve got time to pop down to our local supermarket. I’m sure I’ve seen some there.’
‘Oh, you are good. I’ll tell her. It’s the first time Darrel has been away from her overnight and she’s getting herself into a bit of a state. It’s understandable.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed.
‘She has to be at the hospital at eight o’clock tomorrow morning and she should be discharged later that afternoon. If she does have to stay overnight or doesn’t feel up to collecting Darrel on Friday evening can he stay with you for a second night?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Thank you. I’ll phone Shelley now and reassure her, and give her your contact details.’
‘I’ll see her about six then.’ We said goodbye and I hung up. I hadn’t been told what was wrong with Shelley and I didn’t need to know. But I could appreciate why she was anxious at being separated from her son and was fretting because he would miss his favourite food. I’d seen the meatless sausages in the freezer cabinet at the supermarket a few weeks before when I’d been looking for something else. I just hoped they’d still have some in stock. But it’s strange the way things work out sometimes, as if it’s meant to be, for had I not offered to go to the supermarket I would probably have remained ignorant of what was really going on in Laura’s house.
‘Sorry,’ I said to Adrian and Paula. ‘We’ve got to pop down to the shop.’
Adrian pulled a face. ‘We’ve only just got in and I wanted to play in the garden.’
‘You can play as soon as we return,’ I said. ‘We won’t be long. We’re looking after a little boy tonight and he likes a special type of sausage. I want to see if I can buy some.’
Adrian was growing up with fostering, as was Paula, so it didn’t surprise him that a child could suddenly appear and join our family. It was when they left that he didn’t like it. Neither did I, but as a foster carer you have to learn to accept that the children leave you, and you take comfort from knowing you’ve done your best to help the child and their family, and then be ready for the next child.
‘Can I have an ice cream from the shop then?’ Adrian asked cannily.
Usually the answer would have been, ‘No, not before your dinner,’ but given that he was having to come out again and go shopping rather than playing in the garden, I thought a little reward was in order.
‘Yes, a small one that won’t spoil your dinner,’ I said.
‘Yippee, ice cream!’ Adrian said.
‘Ice cream,’ Paula repeated.
‘Yes, you can have one too.’
As Adrian put on his trainers I fitted Paula’s shoes and then lifted her into the stroller, which I kept in the hall.
The local supermarket was at the bottom of my street, to the right, on the same road as the school. While it wasn’t suitable for a big shop it was very useful for topping up, and I often popped in if we were running short on essentials. If they didn’t have the sausages in stock I would tell Shelley I’d tried and then ask her what else Darrel liked to eat. I was sure I’d be able to find something else he liked. Although he was only staying with me for a day or so, it was important the experience was a good one for him and his mother, and that included meeting his needs and accommodating his likes and dislikes where possible. I would also ask Shelley about Darrel’s routine, and I’d keep to it as much as possible to minimize the disruption to him. Even so, despite everything I was going to do, he was still likely to be upset – a three-year-old left with strangers. Had this not been an emergency respite placement he could have come for a visit beforehand to meet us, so it wouldn’t be so strange for him.
As we walked down the street Adrian asked, ‘Will Darrel go to my school?’
‘No, he’s not old enough for school yet,’ I said.
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Adrian said, with an embarrassed grin. ‘I knew that really. I am a muppet.’
‘Muppet,’ Paula repeated.
‘You’re a muppet,’ Adrian said, teasing his sister and ruffling her hair.
‘Muppet,’ she said again, giggling.
‘You’re a muppet,’ Adrian said again. And so we continued down the street with the word ‘muppet’ bouncing good-humouredly back and forth between the two of them.
‘So how do we cross the road safely?’ I asked Adrian as we arrived at the pavement edge.
‘Think, stop, look and listen, and when it’s all clear walk, don’t run, across the road,’ he said, paraphrasing the safety code that they’d been taught at school.
‘Good boy.’
We waited for the cars to pass and then crossed the road and went into the supermarket. I took a shopping basket and we went straight to the freezer cabinet. To my relief they had three packets of meatless sausages; I took one and placed it in the basket. Adrian then spent some time selecting ice creams for him and Paula and put those in the basket too. Paula reached out and began whining, wanting her ice cream straight away. ‘I have to pay for it first and take off the wrapper,’ I said.
We headed for the checkout. As we turned the corner of the aisle we saw Kim with a shopping basket on her arm, looking at a display of biscuits. ‘Hello, love,’ I said. ‘Are you helping your mum?’
‘Yes,’ she said, a little self-consciously. I glanced around for Laura but couldn’t see her. ‘Where is she?’ I asked her. ‘I’ll say hello.’
‘She’s at home,’ Kim said.
‘Oh, OK. Tell her I said hi, please.’
Kim smiled and gave a small nod.
I wasn’t going in search of her grandmother, whom I assumed was in one of the other aisles, to say hello, so we continued to the checkout. There was a woman in front of us and as we waited another joined the small queue behind us. Then, as we stepped forward for our turn, I saw Kim join the queue. The cashier rang up our items and placed them in a carrier bag, which I hung on the stroller. I paid and before we left I looked again at Kim and smiled – she was still waiting in the queue, without her grandmother.
Outside the shop I parked the stroller out of the way of the main door and gave Adrian his ice cream, and then removed the wrapper from Paula’s. I glanced through the glass shopfront and saw that Kim was now at the till. ‘Surely Kim isn’t here alone?’ I said out loud, voicing my concerns.
Adrian shrugged, more interested in his ice cream.
I threw the wrappers in the bin but didn’t immediately start for home.
‘Can we go now?’ Adrian asked impatiently. ‘I want to play in the garden.’
‘Yes, in a minute.’
I watched as Kim packed and paid for her shopping and then came out. ‘Are you here alone?’ I asked her.
She gave a small, furtive nod, almost as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
‘We can walk back together,’ I suggested.
She gave another small nod and we crossed the pavement and waited on the kerb. I was surprised and concerned that Kim was by herself. She was only seven, and while there is no law that states a child of seven shouldn’t go out alone I thought it was far too young. She wasn’t in sight of her house, she was by herself and she’d had to cross quite a busy road. A foster child certainly wouldn’t have been allowed to make this journey alone at her age, and neither would I have allowed my own children to do so.
‘Is your mother all right?’ I asked Kim as we began up our street. I wondered if there had been an emergency, which had necessitated Kim having to buy some items.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said politely.
‘Where’s your gran?’ I asked, trying not to sound as though I was questioning her.
‘At her house,’ Kim replied.
‘And you’ve been doing some shopping for your mother?’ She nodded. ‘Do you often do the shopping?’ I asked after a moment, for she appeared quite confident in her role.
‘Yes, sometimes, since Mum had Liam.’
‘Does your gran not do the shopping then?’
‘Sometimes, but Mum doesn’t always like the things Gran buys.’
So why not ask her to buy the things she does like? I thought but didn’t say.
‘And your mum didn’t want to walk down with you?’ I asked as we walked.
‘She’s got a bad headache. She’s in bed, and Dad won’t be home until later.’
‘Oh dear.’ I could see Kim looking enviously at Adrian’s and Paula’s ice creams and I wished I’d thought to buy her one. ‘So who’s looking after Liam?’ I asked.
‘He’s in the pram, asleep. I wanted to bring him with me, but Mum wouldn’t let me. If she’s not up later I can make him a bottle,’ Kim added proudly. ‘I know what to do.’
I smiled and hid my concerns. This wasn’t making sense. If Geraldine liked to help, why wasn’t she helping the family now when they needed her? Laura was in bed, unwell, and Kim’s father wasn’t home. Why not phone Geraldine and ask for help? She only lived five streets away. We were drawing close to Laura’s house now.
‘What time does your dad get in from work?’ I asked her. ‘Do you know?’
‘I think it’s usually about seven-thirty or eight,’ Kim said.
That was three hours away. ‘Does he know your mum is unwell and you had to go to the shop?’ We’d arrived at her garden gate.
‘No,’ Kim said, and opened the gate. If I hadn’t been expecting Shelley and Darrel, I would have gone in and asked Laura if there was anything I could do.
Kim paused on the other side of the gate as she looped the carrier bag over her arm and took a front-door key from her purse.
‘Kim, will you please tell your mother I said hello and to phone me if there is anything I can do? She has my telephone number.’
‘Yes. Thank you,’ Kim said sweetly, and then hesitated. With a slightly guilty look she said, ‘You won’t tell Dad or Gran you saw me, will you?’
‘No, but is there a reason?’
‘They wouldn’t like it,’ Kim said. With a little embarrassed smile she turned and continued up the path to her front door.
I watched her open the door and go in. There was no sign of Laura. The door closed and we continued on our way home.
‘Why is Kim doing the shopping?’ Adrian asked, having heard some of the conversation.
‘Her mother isn’t feeling well.’
‘Would I have to do the shopping if you weren’t well?’ he said through a mouthful of ice cream.
‘No. You’re too young.’
‘So who would do the shopping while Dad’s away if you were ill?’
‘I’d ask Sue [our neighbour], or another friend, or Nana and Grandpa. But don’t you worry, I’m not going to be ill.’ I knew Adrian was anxious about his father working away, and he occasionally asked who would do the jobs his dad usually did, like cutting the grass, or about other ‘what if’ scenarios, and I always reassured him.
I paused to wipe ice cream from Paula’s mouth and hands, as it was melting faster than she could eat it, and then we continued up the street towards home. Perhaps it was from years of fostering that I instinctively sensed when a child might be hiding something, and I felt that now with Kim. What she might be hiding I didn’t know, but I had a nagging doubt that something wasn’t right in her house. I decided that the following week, at the first opportunity, I would make a neighbourly call and knock on Laura’s door – unless, of course, she was in the playground on Monday, which I doubted.
Chapter Three
Lullaby at Bedtime (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
We’d just finished dinner that evening when the doorbell rang, and Adrian and Paula came with me to answer the door. Although it was still light outside I checked the security spyhole before opening it.
‘I’m Shelley and this is Darrel,’ the young woman said, with a nervous smile.
‘Yes, I’ve been expecting you, love. Come in.’
‘This is the lady I told you about,’ Shelley said, bending down to Darrel. He was standing beside her, holding her hand, and now buried his face against her leg, reluctant to come in.
‘He’s bound to be a bit shy to begin with,’ I said.
‘I know. I understand how he feels,’ Shelley said, clearly anxious herself. ‘Look, Darrel, Cathy has children you can play with.’
‘This is Adrian and this is Paula,’ I said.
But Darrel kept his face pressed against his mother’s leg as she gently eased him over the doorstep and into the hall. I closed the front door. Adrian, two years older than Darrel and more confident on home territory, went up to him and touched his arm. ‘Would you like to come and play with some of my toys?’ he asked kindly.
‘That’s nice of you,’ Shelley said, but Darrel didn’t look up or release his grip on his mother.
Then Paula decided that she, too, was shy and buried her face against my leg.
‘Do you want to leave your bags there?’ I said to Shelley, pointing to a space in the hall. ‘I’ll sort them out later.’
She was carrying a large holdall on each shoulder and, unhooking them, set them on the floor. She was also carrying a cool bag. ‘Could you put these things in the fridge, please?’ she said, handing me the cool bag. ‘There’s a pot containing his porridge for breakfast. I made it the way he likes it, with milk, before we came, so you just have to heat it up.’
‘OK, that’s fine, thank you.’
‘And there’s some yoghurt in there as well, and diced fruit in little pots. He has them for pudding and snacks. I’ve also put in a pint of full-cream milk. He prefers that to the semi-skimmed. I give him a drink before he goes to bed. I forgot to tell the social worker that and I didn’t know if you had full-cream milk here.’
‘I’ve got most things,’ I said, trying to reassure her. ‘But it’s nice for Darrel to have what you’ve brought.’
‘Oh, the sausages!’ Shelley exclaimed.
‘Yes, I got some. Don’t worry.’
‘Thank you so much. I am grateful.’ Then, bending down to Darrel again, she said, ‘Cathy has got your favourite sausages. Isn’t that nice?’
But Darrel kept his face pressed against his mother, and Shelley appeared equally nervous and anxious.
‘Try not to worry. He’ll be fine soon,’ I said. ‘Come and have a seat in the living room, while I put these things in the fridge.’
Shelley picked him up and held him tightly to her. I thought he was probably sensing her anxiety as much as he was nervous and shy himself. I showed them into the living room. Adrian went in, too, while Paula, slightly unsettled, came with me into the kitchen. At her age it was more difficult for her to understand fostering.
‘Baby?’ she asked as I set the cool bag on the work surface and unzipped the lid.
‘No, Darrel is older than you. He’s three. He’s sleeping here for one night. You can play with him.’
I began putting the contents of the cool bag into the fridge as Paula watched. Shelley seemed to have thought of everything, and I recognized the love, care, concern and anxiety that had gone into making up all these little pots so that Darrel had everything he was used to at home. Each pot was labelled with his name, what the pot contained and when he ate the food – so, for example: Darrel’s porridge, breakfast, around 8 a.m., and Darrel’s apple and orange mid-morning snack, around 11 a.m. Once I’d emptied the cool bag I returned to the living room with Paula and placed the bag near Shelley. ‘All done,’ I said.
‘Thank you so much,’ she said gratefully. Darrel was sitting on her lap, with his face buried in her sweater. ‘I’ve written down his routine,’ she said, passing me a sheet of paper that she’d taken from her bag.
‘Thanks. That will be useful.’ I sat on the sofa and Paula sat beside me. Adrian was on the floor, playing with the toys and glancing at Darrel in the hope that he would join in.
‘I’m sure he’ll play with you soon,’ I said. Then to Shelley: ‘Would you and Darrel like a drink?’
‘No, thank you, we had one before we left. He had warm milk, and he has one before he goes to bed too. I put the milk in the bag.’
‘Yes, I saw it, thanks. Although I’ve got plenty of milk here. Has he had his dinner?’
‘Yes, and I gave him a bath this morning so there is no need for him to have one this evening. I thought it would be better for him if I did it rather than him having to have a bath in a strange house. No offence, but you know what I mean.’
I smiled. ‘Of course. Don’t worry. I’ll keep to your routine. I’ll show you both around the house before you leave, so it won’t be so strange.’
‘Thank you.’
I guessed Shelley was in her early twenties, so she could only have been seventeen or eighteen when she’d had Darrel, but she obviously thought the world of him, and, as the social worker had said, she was a good mother. She was slim, average height, with fair, shoulder-length hair and was dressed fashionably in jeans and layered tops. She had a sweet, round face but was clearly on edge – she kept frowning and chewing her bottom lip. I knew Darrel would pick up on this. Paula, at my side, was now chancing a look at Darrel as if she might be brave enough to go over to him soon. Shelley saw this. ‘Come and say hello to Darrel,’ she said. ‘He’s just a bit shy, like me.’
But Paula shook her head. ‘In a few minutes,’ I said.
‘I think I’ve packed everything Darrel needs,’ Shelley said. ‘His plate, bowl, mug and cutlery are in the blue bag in the hall. I’ve put in some of his favourite toys and Spot the dog. He’s the soft toy Darrel takes to bed. Darrel is toilet trained, but he still has a nappy at night. I’ve put some nappies in the black bag, but he only needs one. I didn’t have room to bring his step stool, but he needs that to reach the toilet.’
‘Don’t worry. I have a couple of those,’ I said. ‘They are already in place in the bathroom and toilet.’
‘Thanks. I’ve put baby wipes in the blue bag too. His clothes and night things are in the black bag, but I couldn’t fit in his changing mat.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I said again. ‘I have one of those too. In fact, I have most things children need.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, you would have,’ Shelley said with a small, embarrassed laugh. ‘You have children and you foster. Silly me.’
She was lovely but so anxious. ‘I promise I’ll take good care of Darrel and keep him safe,’ I said. ‘He’ll be fine. How did you get here with all those bags and Darrel?’
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Cathy Glass
The heartbreaking true story of a young, troubled mother who needed help.The sixteenth fostering memoir by Cathy Glass.It is the first time Laura has been out since the birth of her baby when Cathy sees her in the school playground. A joyful occasion but Cathy has the feeling something is wrong. By the time she discovers what it is, it is too late. This is the true story of Laura whose life touches Cathy’s in a way she could never have foreseen. It is also the true stories of little Darrel, Samson and Hayley who she fosters when their parents need help. Some stories can have a happy ending and others cannot, but as a foster carer Cathy can only do her best.
(#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
Copyright (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the children.
HarperElement
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published by HarperElement 2016
FIRST EDITION
© Cathy Glass 2016
A catalogue record of this book is
available from the British Library
Cover image © Krasimira Petrova Shishkova/Trevillion Images (posed by model)
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016
Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be
identified as the author of this work
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Source ISBN: 9780008153717
Ebook Edition © February 2016 ISBN: 9780008156572
Version: 2016-03-04
Contents
Cover (#u1c2261c7-71ad-5181-b42e-7c547fd5f087)
Title Page (#ulink_1251ef3a-a4ba-58da-8cec-b2f5d0cac9bb)
Copyright (#ulink_c8ed5650-75a9-59c0-9a18-a99a37a0b332)
Acknowledgements (#ulink_6d63d7bf-d5be-5161-93a8-0ef2e80b4948)
Prologue (#ulink_b3faed38-69a8-5dad-9ead-ca49254a7f59)
Chapter One: A Funny Turn (#ulink_e416ae7e-3eed-5ccc-aea5-e8feca1b0a97)
Chapter Two: Very Concerned (#ulink_1c8af3e4-2f3f-5efc-9d30-7ff959bdf881)
Chapter Three: Lullaby at Bedtime (#ulink_334c8454-40b0-5e45-837c-4e4cab4bf789)
Chapter Four: Shelley (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five: A Very Strange Phone Call (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six: Useless (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven: Upset (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight: A Playmate? (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine: Samson (#litres_trial_promo)
Moving Memoirs eNewsletter (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
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.
Prologue (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
The room is dark, although it’s daylight outside. Strangely dark and eerily quiet. Not a sound when there should be noise. Crying and screaming, that’s what she was expecting to hear. And the room seems smaller now too, as though the walls are gradually closing in and crushing her, crushing her to death.
She sits huddled at one end of the sofa, too scared to look around. Scared of what she might see in this unnaturally dark and quiet room that is threatening to squeeze the air out of her and squash her to nothing. Scared, too, of what lies ahead if she stands and goes to the telephone to make that call, and tells them what she’s done. They will come and take her baby for sure if she tells them that she has given birth to the devil.
Chapter One
A Funny Turn (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
Everyone loves a newborn baby and wants a little look. Even those who protest that they are not ‘baby lovers’ can’t resist a peep at the miracle of a new life. I joined the other mothers grouped around the pram in the school playground as we waited with our children for the start of school.
‘Congratulations, he’s gorgeous,’ I said, adding my own best wishes to the many others.
‘Thank you,’ Laura (the new mum) said quietly, a little bemused by all the attention.
‘How old is he now?’ I asked.
‘Two weeks.’
‘Aah, he’s adorable.’
‘Make the most of every moment,’ another mother said. ‘They grow up far too quickly.’
My own daughter, Paula, aged thirteen months, was sitting in the stroller and wanted to have a look too, so I unclipped the safety harness and lifted her out so she could see into the pram.
‘Baby,’ she said cutely, pointing.
‘Yes, that’s baby Liam,’ I said.
‘Baby Liam,’ she repeated with a little chuckle.
‘You were that small once,’ I said, and she chuckled again.
‘He’s my baby brother,’ Kim, Laura’s daughter, said proudly.
‘I know. Aren’t you a lucky girl?’ I said to her, returning Paula to her stroller.
Kim nodded and touched her baby brother’s face protectively, then planted a delicate little kiss on his cheek.
The family had moved into the street where I lived about a year before. Laura and I had got to know each other a little from seeing each other on the way to and from school. My son Adrian, aged five, attended this school but was in a different year to Kim, who was seven. Living quite close to each other I kept meaning to invite Laura in for a coffee and develop our friendship, but I hadn’t found the opportunity, what with looking after my own family, fostering and studying for a degree part-time. I guessed Laura had been busy too, especially now she had a baby.
Amid all the oohings and aahings over little Liam the Klaxon sounded the start of school and parents began saying goodbye to their children.
‘Bye, love,’ I said to Adrian, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Have a good day. Make sure you eat your lunch, and have a drink.’ He’d only been in school a year and I still fussed over him.
‘Bye, Mum. Bye, Paula,’ he said, and ran over to join his class who were lining up, ready to go in.
‘Bye, little Liam,’ Kim said, leaning into the pram again to give her brother one last kiss. She clearly didn’t want to leave him. ‘See you later. Be a good boy for Mummy.’ I smiled.
‘Cathy,’ Laura said suddenly, clutching my arm. ‘I feel a bit hot. I’m going to get a drink of water. Could you stay with the pram, please?’
She turned and walked quickly towards the water fountain situated in an alcove at the far end of the building. Kim looked at me anxiously.
‘Don’t worry, love. I’ll make sure your mum is all right. You go into school.’
She hesitated, but then ran over to join her class, who were going in. I could see Laura at the fountain, leaning forward and sipping the cool water. I thought I should go over in case she was feeling faint. She’d only given birth two weeks before and I could remember how I’d sometimes suddenly felt hot and dizzy in the first few weeks after having both of my children. Pushing Paula’s stroller with my right hand and Liam’s pram with my left, I steered them across the playground to the water fountain. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked Laura as we approached.
‘Oh, yes, thank you,’ she said, straightening and wiping her mouth on a tissue. ‘I came over a bit funny. I’m all right now.’
I thought she looked pale. ‘Why don’t you sit down for a while? The children are going in.’ There were a couple of benches in the playground that the children used at playtime.
‘No, I’m all right, honestly. I just felt a bit hot and panicky. I think it was all the attention, and it is warm today.’
‘Yes, it is warm for May,’ I agreed. ‘But make sure you don’t overdo it.’
She tucked the tissue into her pocket and shook her hair from her face. ‘My husband and mother-in-law said it was too soon for me to be out and about. I guess they were right. But I was getting cabin fever staying at home all the time. I needed a change of scenery.’ She put her hands onto the pram handle ready for the off.
‘Are you going straight home?’ I asked. ‘I’ll walk with you.’
‘Yes, but there’s no need. I’ll be fine.’
‘I’d like to,’ I said. ‘I walk by your house on the way to mine.’
‘All right. Thanks.’ She flicked her hair from her face again and we began across the playground to the main gate. Laura was a tall, attractive woman, whom I guessed to be in her mid-thirties, and she was very slim despite recently giving birth. She had naturally wavy, shoulder-length brown hair, which was swept away from her forehead.
‘Is Liam sleeping and feeding well?’ I asked, making conversation as we walked.
‘Baby,’ Paula repeated, pointing to his pram travelling along beside her.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said to her. ‘Baby Liam.’
‘I’m up every three hours at night feeding him,’ Laura said. ‘But you expect that with a newborn, don’t you?’
I nodded. ‘It’s very tiring. I remember craving sleep in the first few months. If someone had offered me a night out at a top-class restaurant or seven hours unbroken sleep, I would have gone for the latter without a doubt.’
‘Agreed,’ Laura said with a small smile.
We were silent for a few moments as we concentrated on crossing the road, and then we turned the corner and began up our street. ‘How do you like living here?’ I asked, resuming conversation.
‘Fine. It’s nearer Andy’s – my husband’s – job, and his family. My mother-in-law only lives five streets away.’
‘Is that the lady I’ve seen in the playground, collecting Kim from school?’ I asked out of interest.
‘Yes. Geraldine. She’s very helpful. I don’t know what I’d do without her.’
‘It’s good to have help,’ I said. ‘My parents help me out when they can, but they live an hour’s drive away, and my husband’s family are even further away.’
‘Yes,’ Laura said, looking thoughtful. ‘My mother lives over a hundred miles away. You foster, don’t you?’
‘I do, although I’m taking a few months off at present to finish my degree. After our last foster child left my husband accepted a contract to work abroad for three months, so it seemed a good opportunity to study. The social services know I’m available for an emergency or for respite care, but I’m hoping I won’t be disturbed too often.’
‘What’s respite?’ Laura asked, interested.
‘It’s when a foster carer looks after a child for a short period to give the parents or another foster carer a break. It might just be for a weekend or a week or two, but then the child returns home or to their permanent carer.’
‘I see. It’s good of you to foster.’
‘Not really. I enjoy it. But I must admit I’ve been struggling recently to study and foster, with Paula being so little. Hopefully I’ll now have the chance to complete my dissertation.’
‘What are you studying?’
‘Education and psychology.’
She nodded. We’d now arrived outside her house, number 53, and Laura pushed open the gate. ‘Well, it’s been nice talking to you. Cathy, isn’t it?’
‘Yes – sorry, I should have said.’
‘Thanks again for helping me out in the playground. I hope I haven’t kept you.’
‘Not at all. If ever you want me to collect Kim from school or take her, do let me know. I’m there every day with Adrian.’
‘Thanks, that’s kind of you, but Geraldine, my mother-in-law, always does it if I can’t.’
‘OK. But if she can’t at any time you know where I am. And perhaps you’d like to pop in for a coffee one day when you’re free.’
She looked slightly surprised. ‘Oh, I see. That’s nice, but I expect you’re very busy.’
‘Never too busy for a coffee and a chat,’ I said with a smile. ‘I’ll give you my telephone number.’ I began delving into my bag for a pen and paper.
‘Can you give it to me another time?’ Laura said, appearing rather anxious. She began up her garden path, clearly eager to be away. ‘Sorry, but I’m dying to go to the bathroom!’ she called.
‘Yes, of course. I’ll see you later in the playground. I can give it to you then.’
‘Geraldine will probably be there,’ she returned, with her back to me, and quickly unlocking the door. ‘Push it through my letterbox.’
‘OK. Bye then.’
‘Bye!’ she called, and going in closed the front door.
‘Baby Liam,’ Paula said, pointing to the house.
‘Yes, that’s where he lives,’ I said.
‘Out!’ Paula now demanded, raising her arms to be lifted out of the stroller.
‘Yes, you can walk, but remember you always hold my hand.’
I undid the safety harness, helped her out and took her little hand in mine. ‘We always hold hands by the road,’ I reminded her. I didn’t use walking reins but insisted she held my hand.
‘Baby Liam,’ Paula said again, looking at his house.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ I glanced over. A woman, whom I now knew to be Laura’s mother-in-law, Geraldine, was looking out of the downstairs window. I smiled and gave a little wave, but she couldn’t have seen me for she turned and disappeared into the room.
‘Home,’ Paula said.
‘Yes, we’re going home now.’
We continued haltingly up the street with Paula stopping every few steps to examine something that caught her interest, including most garden gates, walls, fences, lampposts, fallen leaves, every tree in the street and most of the paving slabs. But I knew that the exercise would tire her out and that once home, after she’d had a drink and a snack, she’d have at least an hour’s sleep, which would give me the chance to continue researching and writing my dissertation: ‘The psychological impact being in care has on a child and how it affects their educational outcome.’
That afternoon, before I set off to collect Adrian from school, I wrote my telephone number on a piece of paper and tucked it into my pocket ready to give to Laura. She wasn’t in the playground and for a while it appeared that no one had come to collect Kim, for I couldn’t see Geraldine either. The Klaxon sounded for the end of school and the children began to file out, and then Geraldine rushed into the playground at the last minute and went over to Kim. Adrian arrived at my side very excited because his class was going on an outing. He handed me a printed sheet with the details of the outing and a consent form, and I carefully tucked it into my bag. I looked around for Geraldine, but she’d already gone. We joined the other parents and children filing out of the main gate and then crossed the road. As we turned the corner into our street I could see Kim and her grandmother a little way ahead. Kim turned and gave a small wave. We waved back. I was half-expecting Geraldine to turn and acknowledge us, or maybe even wait for us to catch up and fall into conversation, but she didn’t. She kept on walking until they arrived at number 53, where she opened the garden gate and began up the path. As we drew level she was opening the front door.
‘Excuse me!’ I called. She turned. ‘Could you give this to Laura, please?’ I held out the piece of paper. ‘It’s my telephone number. I said I’d let her have it. Is she all right now?’
Geraldine nodded, straight-faced, and tapped Kim on the shoulder as a signal for her to collect the paper.
Kim ran down the path and smiled at me as she took the paper. ‘Thank you,’ she said politely.
‘Say hi to your mum,’ I said.
‘I will.’
With another smile she ran back up the path to her grandmother, who’d now opened the front door and was waiting just inside, ready to close it. I smiled at her but she didn’t return the gesture, and as soon as Kim was inside she closed the door. With her short grey hair and unsmiling features Geraldine came across as stern. I was slightly surprised by her coldness, and it crossed my mind that she’d very likely seen me that morning through the front-room window and, for whatever reason, had chosen to ignore me.
Chapter Two
Very Concerned (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
I saw Geraldine in the playground every day for the rest of that week – in the morning when she took Kim to school, and in the afternoon when she collected her – but she didn’t acknowledge me or make any attempt to start a conversation. Neither did she have anything to do with any of the other parents waiting in the playground, which was unusual. It was a relatively small school, and friendly, so that eventually most people started chatting to someone as they waited for their children. But Geraldine didn’t; she hurried into the playground at the last moment and out again, aloof and stern-looking. By Friday, when Laura still hadn’t reappeared, I began to wonder if she was ill. She’d had a funny turn earlier in the week, on her first outing with Liam – perhaps she’d been sickening for something and was really poorly. Although Geraldine apparently didn’t want anything to do with me, Laura hadn’t been so hostile, and given that we lived in the same street and our children attended the same school I felt it would be neighbourly of me to ask how she was. If you are feeling unwell and someone asks after you it can be a real pick-me-up. So on Friday afternoon when Geraldine collected Kim from school I intercepted her as she hurried out of the playground.
‘I was wondering how Laura was,’ I said. ‘I’m Cathy. I live in the same street.’
‘Yes, I know who you are,’ she said stiffly. ‘Laura is fine, thank you. Why do you ask?’ Which seemed an odd question.
‘When I last saw Laura she wasn’t feeling so good. She came over a bit hot and wobbly. I wondered if she was all right now.’
‘Oh, that. It was nothing,’ Geraldine said dismissively. ‘It was far too soon for her to be going out and she realizes that now.’
I gave a small nod. ‘As long as she’s not ill.’
‘No, of course not,’ she said bluntly.
‘Good. Well, if she ever fancies a change of scenery and a coffee, she knows where I live.’
‘Oh, she won’t be up to that for a long while,’ Geraldine said tartly. ‘I’ve told her she’s not to go out for at least another four weeks, possibly longer. That’s the advice we had after giving birth.’ Taking Kim by the arm, she headed off.
Not go out for another four weeks! You could have knocked me down with a feather. Wherever had she got that from? It was nearly three weeks since Laura had given birth and as far as I knew there was no medical advice that said a new mother had to wait seven weeks before going out, unless Geraldine was confusing it with postpartum sex, but even then seven weeks was excessive if the birth had been normal. More likely, I thought, Geraldine was suffering from empty-nest syndrome and she liked being the centre of the family and having Laura rely on her. It would make her feel needed, and if that suited Laura, fine. It was none of my business. I’d been reassured that Laura wasn’t ill, and I had my family to look after and work to do.
It was the weekend and the weather was glorious, so Adrian, Paula and I spent most of Saturday in the garden, where the children played while I read and then did some gardening. On Sunday my parents came for the day and after lunch we were in the garden again. In the evening after they’d gone, my husband, John, telephoned from America where he was working. He’d got into the habit of telephoning on a Sunday evening when it was lunchtime where he was. We all took turns to speak to him and tell him our news. Even little Paula ‘spoke’ to him, although she was bemused by the workings of the telephone and kept examining the handset, trying to work out where the voice was coming from, rather than holding it to her ear.
On Monday the school week began again, and as the weather was fine we walked to and from school. I only used my car for school if it was raining hard or if I had to go somewhere straight after school. Geraldine continued to take Kim to school and collect her, and continued to ignore me and all the other parents. Perhaps she was just shy, I thought, although she had a standoffish, austere look about her. Each time I passed Laura’s house, number 53, which was four times a day (on the way to and from school), I glanced over. But there was never any sign of Laura or baby Liam, so I assumed Laura was making the most of having Geraldine in charge and was relaxing indoors or in the back garden. Sometimes Paula pointed to the house and, remembering that Liam lived there, said, ‘Baby.’ If she was out of her stroller and walking, she tried the gate – and most of the others in the street!
On Thursday afternoon, once we’d returned home from school, we hadn’t been in long when the telephone rang. It was a social worker asking if I could do some respite and look after a little boy, Darrel, aged three, for that night and all day Friday. His mother, Shelley, a young, single parent, had to go into hospital as a day patient and the person who was supposed to have been looking after Darrel had let her down at the last minute. She had no one else she could ask at such short notice, and I said I’d be happy to help and look after Darrel.
‘Shelley’s a young mum but she’s a good one,’ the social worker said. ‘She’ll bring Darrel to you at about six o’clock this evening. She said she’d bring everything he needs, but she’s fretting that she’s run out of meatless sausages. She’s a vegetarian and she’s bringing up Darrel the same. Apparently he loves meatless sausages for lunch, but she hasn’t got time to go into town and buy more. I’ve told her you’ll be able to cook him something else vegetarian.’
‘Yes, of course I will, but tell her I’ll see if I can get some of the sausages. If she’s not bringing Darrel until six, I’ve got time to pop down to our local supermarket. I’m sure I’ve seen some there.’
‘Oh, you are good. I’ll tell her. It’s the first time Darrel has been away from her overnight and she’s getting herself into a bit of a state. It’s understandable.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed.
‘She has to be at the hospital at eight o’clock tomorrow morning and she should be discharged later that afternoon. If she does have to stay overnight or doesn’t feel up to collecting Darrel on Friday evening can he stay with you for a second night?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Thank you. I’ll phone Shelley now and reassure her, and give her your contact details.’
‘I’ll see her about six then.’ We said goodbye and I hung up. I hadn’t been told what was wrong with Shelley and I didn’t need to know. But I could appreciate why she was anxious at being separated from her son and was fretting because he would miss his favourite food. I’d seen the meatless sausages in the freezer cabinet at the supermarket a few weeks before when I’d been looking for something else. I just hoped they’d still have some in stock. But it’s strange the way things work out sometimes, as if it’s meant to be, for had I not offered to go to the supermarket I would probably have remained ignorant of what was really going on in Laura’s house.
‘Sorry,’ I said to Adrian and Paula. ‘We’ve got to pop down to the shop.’
Adrian pulled a face. ‘We’ve only just got in and I wanted to play in the garden.’
‘You can play as soon as we return,’ I said. ‘We won’t be long. We’re looking after a little boy tonight and he likes a special type of sausage. I want to see if I can buy some.’
Adrian was growing up with fostering, as was Paula, so it didn’t surprise him that a child could suddenly appear and join our family. It was when they left that he didn’t like it. Neither did I, but as a foster carer you have to learn to accept that the children leave you, and you take comfort from knowing you’ve done your best to help the child and their family, and then be ready for the next child.
‘Can I have an ice cream from the shop then?’ Adrian asked cannily.
Usually the answer would have been, ‘No, not before your dinner,’ but given that he was having to come out again and go shopping rather than playing in the garden, I thought a little reward was in order.
‘Yes, a small one that won’t spoil your dinner,’ I said.
‘Yippee, ice cream!’ Adrian said.
‘Ice cream,’ Paula repeated.
‘Yes, you can have one too.’
As Adrian put on his trainers I fitted Paula’s shoes and then lifted her into the stroller, which I kept in the hall.
The local supermarket was at the bottom of my street, to the right, on the same road as the school. While it wasn’t suitable for a big shop it was very useful for topping up, and I often popped in if we were running short on essentials. If they didn’t have the sausages in stock I would tell Shelley I’d tried and then ask her what else Darrel liked to eat. I was sure I’d be able to find something else he liked. Although he was only staying with me for a day or so, it was important the experience was a good one for him and his mother, and that included meeting his needs and accommodating his likes and dislikes where possible. I would also ask Shelley about Darrel’s routine, and I’d keep to it as much as possible to minimize the disruption to him. Even so, despite everything I was going to do, he was still likely to be upset – a three-year-old left with strangers. Had this not been an emergency respite placement he could have come for a visit beforehand to meet us, so it wouldn’t be so strange for him.
As we walked down the street Adrian asked, ‘Will Darrel go to my school?’
‘No, he’s not old enough for school yet,’ I said.
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Adrian said, with an embarrassed grin. ‘I knew that really. I am a muppet.’
‘Muppet,’ Paula repeated.
‘You’re a muppet,’ Adrian said, teasing his sister and ruffling her hair.
‘Muppet,’ she said again, giggling.
‘You’re a muppet,’ Adrian said again. And so we continued down the street with the word ‘muppet’ bouncing good-humouredly back and forth between the two of them.
‘So how do we cross the road safely?’ I asked Adrian as we arrived at the pavement edge.
‘Think, stop, look and listen, and when it’s all clear walk, don’t run, across the road,’ he said, paraphrasing the safety code that they’d been taught at school.
‘Good boy.’
We waited for the cars to pass and then crossed the road and went into the supermarket. I took a shopping basket and we went straight to the freezer cabinet. To my relief they had three packets of meatless sausages; I took one and placed it in the basket. Adrian then spent some time selecting ice creams for him and Paula and put those in the basket too. Paula reached out and began whining, wanting her ice cream straight away. ‘I have to pay for it first and take off the wrapper,’ I said.
We headed for the checkout. As we turned the corner of the aisle we saw Kim with a shopping basket on her arm, looking at a display of biscuits. ‘Hello, love,’ I said. ‘Are you helping your mum?’
‘Yes,’ she said, a little self-consciously. I glanced around for Laura but couldn’t see her. ‘Where is she?’ I asked her. ‘I’ll say hello.’
‘She’s at home,’ Kim said.
‘Oh, OK. Tell her I said hi, please.’
Kim smiled and gave a small nod.
I wasn’t going in search of her grandmother, whom I assumed was in one of the other aisles, to say hello, so we continued to the checkout. There was a woman in front of us and as we waited another joined the small queue behind us. Then, as we stepped forward for our turn, I saw Kim join the queue. The cashier rang up our items and placed them in a carrier bag, which I hung on the stroller. I paid and before we left I looked again at Kim and smiled – she was still waiting in the queue, without her grandmother.
Outside the shop I parked the stroller out of the way of the main door and gave Adrian his ice cream, and then removed the wrapper from Paula’s. I glanced through the glass shopfront and saw that Kim was now at the till. ‘Surely Kim isn’t here alone?’ I said out loud, voicing my concerns.
Adrian shrugged, more interested in his ice cream.
I threw the wrappers in the bin but didn’t immediately start for home.
‘Can we go now?’ Adrian asked impatiently. ‘I want to play in the garden.’
‘Yes, in a minute.’
I watched as Kim packed and paid for her shopping and then came out. ‘Are you here alone?’ I asked her.
She gave a small, furtive nod, almost as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
‘We can walk back together,’ I suggested.
She gave another small nod and we crossed the pavement and waited on the kerb. I was surprised and concerned that Kim was by herself. She was only seven, and while there is no law that states a child of seven shouldn’t go out alone I thought it was far too young. She wasn’t in sight of her house, she was by herself and she’d had to cross quite a busy road. A foster child certainly wouldn’t have been allowed to make this journey alone at her age, and neither would I have allowed my own children to do so.
‘Is your mother all right?’ I asked Kim as we began up our street. I wondered if there had been an emergency, which had necessitated Kim having to buy some items.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said politely.
‘Where’s your gran?’ I asked, trying not to sound as though I was questioning her.
‘At her house,’ Kim replied.
‘And you’ve been doing some shopping for your mother?’ She nodded. ‘Do you often do the shopping?’ I asked after a moment, for she appeared quite confident in her role.
‘Yes, sometimes, since Mum had Liam.’
‘Does your gran not do the shopping then?’
‘Sometimes, but Mum doesn’t always like the things Gran buys.’
So why not ask her to buy the things she does like? I thought but didn’t say.
‘And your mum didn’t want to walk down with you?’ I asked as we walked.
‘She’s got a bad headache. She’s in bed, and Dad won’t be home until later.’
‘Oh dear.’ I could see Kim looking enviously at Adrian’s and Paula’s ice creams and I wished I’d thought to buy her one. ‘So who’s looking after Liam?’ I asked.
‘He’s in the pram, asleep. I wanted to bring him with me, but Mum wouldn’t let me. If she’s not up later I can make him a bottle,’ Kim added proudly. ‘I know what to do.’
I smiled and hid my concerns. This wasn’t making sense. If Geraldine liked to help, why wasn’t she helping the family now when they needed her? Laura was in bed, unwell, and Kim’s father wasn’t home. Why not phone Geraldine and ask for help? She only lived five streets away. We were drawing close to Laura’s house now.
‘What time does your dad get in from work?’ I asked her. ‘Do you know?’
‘I think it’s usually about seven-thirty or eight,’ Kim said.
That was three hours away. ‘Does he know your mum is unwell and you had to go to the shop?’ We’d arrived at her garden gate.
‘No,’ Kim said, and opened the gate. If I hadn’t been expecting Shelley and Darrel, I would have gone in and asked Laura if there was anything I could do.
Kim paused on the other side of the gate as she looped the carrier bag over her arm and took a front-door key from her purse.
‘Kim, will you please tell your mother I said hello and to phone me if there is anything I can do? She has my telephone number.’
‘Yes. Thank you,’ Kim said sweetly, and then hesitated. With a slightly guilty look she said, ‘You won’t tell Dad or Gran you saw me, will you?’
‘No, but is there a reason?’
‘They wouldn’t like it,’ Kim said. With a little embarrassed smile she turned and continued up the path to her front door.
I watched her open the door and go in. There was no sign of Laura. The door closed and we continued on our way home.
‘Why is Kim doing the shopping?’ Adrian asked, having heard some of the conversation.
‘Her mother isn’t feeling well.’
‘Would I have to do the shopping if you weren’t well?’ he said through a mouthful of ice cream.
‘No. You’re too young.’
‘So who would do the shopping while Dad’s away if you were ill?’
‘I’d ask Sue [our neighbour], or another friend, or Nana and Grandpa. But don’t you worry, I’m not going to be ill.’ I knew Adrian was anxious about his father working away, and he occasionally asked who would do the jobs his dad usually did, like cutting the grass, or about other ‘what if’ scenarios, and I always reassured him.
I paused to wipe ice cream from Paula’s mouth and hands, as it was melting faster than she could eat it, and then we continued up the street towards home. Perhaps it was from years of fostering that I instinctively sensed when a child might be hiding something, and I felt that now with Kim. What she might be hiding I didn’t know, but I had a nagging doubt that something wasn’t right in her house. I decided that the following week, at the first opportunity, I would make a neighbourly call and knock on Laura’s door – unless, of course, she was in the playground on Monday, which I doubted.
Chapter Three
Lullaby at Bedtime (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
We’d just finished dinner that evening when the doorbell rang, and Adrian and Paula came with me to answer the door. Although it was still light outside I checked the security spyhole before opening it.
‘I’m Shelley and this is Darrel,’ the young woman said, with a nervous smile.
‘Yes, I’ve been expecting you, love. Come in.’
‘This is the lady I told you about,’ Shelley said, bending down to Darrel. He was standing beside her, holding her hand, and now buried his face against her leg, reluctant to come in.
‘He’s bound to be a bit shy to begin with,’ I said.
‘I know. I understand how he feels,’ Shelley said, clearly anxious herself. ‘Look, Darrel, Cathy has children you can play with.’
‘This is Adrian and this is Paula,’ I said.
But Darrel kept his face pressed against his mother’s leg as she gently eased him over the doorstep and into the hall. I closed the front door. Adrian, two years older than Darrel and more confident on home territory, went up to him and touched his arm. ‘Would you like to come and play with some of my toys?’ he asked kindly.
‘That’s nice of you,’ Shelley said, but Darrel didn’t look up or release his grip on his mother.
Then Paula decided that she, too, was shy and buried her face against my leg.
‘Do you want to leave your bags there?’ I said to Shelley, pointing to a space in the hall. ‘I’ll sort them out later.’
She was carrying a large holdall on each shoulder and, unhooking them, set them on the floor. She was also carrying a cool bag. ‘Could you put these things in the fridge, please?’ she said, handing me the cool bag. ‘There’s a pot containing his porridge for breakfast. I made it the way he likes it, with milk, before we came, so you just have to heat it up.’
‘OK, that’s fine, thank you.’
‘And there’s some yoghurt in there as well, and diced fruit in little pots. He has them for pudding and snacks. I’ve also put in a pint of full-cream milk. He prefers that to the semi-skimmed. I give him a drink before he goes to bed. I forgot to tell the social worker that and I didn’t know if you had full-cream milk here.’
‘I’ve got most things,’ I said, trying to reassure her. ‘But it’s nice for Darrel to have what you’ve brought.’
‘Oh, the sausages!’ Shelley exclaimed.
‘Yes, I got some. Don’t worry.’
‘Thank you so much. I am grateful.’ Then, bending down to Darrel again, she said, ‘Cathy has got your favourite sausages. Isn’t that nice?’
But Darrel kept his face pressed against his mother, and Shelley appeared equally nervous and anxious.
‘Try not to worry. He’ll be fine soon,’ I said. ‘Come and have a seat in the living room, while I put these things in the fridge.’
Shelley picked him up and held him tightly to her. I thought he was probably sensing her anxiety as much as he was nervous and shy himself. I showed them into the living room. Adrian went in, too, while Paula, slightly unsettled, came with me into the kitchen. At her age it was more difficult for her to understand fostering.
‘Baby?’ she asked as I set the cool bag on the work surface and unzipped the lid.
‘No, Darrel is older than you. He’s three. He’s sleeping here for one night. You can play with him.’
I began putting the contents of the cool bag into the fridge as Paula watched. Shelley seemed to have thought of everything, and I recognized the love, care, concern and anxiety that had gone into making up all these little pots so that Darrel had everything he was used to at home. Each pot was labelled with his name, what the pot contained and when he ate the food – so, for example: Darrel’s porridge, breakfast, around 8 a.m., and Darrel’s apple and orange mid-morning snack, around 11 a.m. Once I’d emptied the cool bag I returned to the living room with Paula and placed the bag near Shelley. ‘All done,’ I said.
‘Thank you so much,’ she said gratefully. Darrel was sitting on her lap, with his face buried in her sweater. ‘I’ve written down his routine,’ she said, passing me a sheet of paper that she’d taken from her bag.
‘Thanks. That will be useful.’ I sat on the sofa and Paula sat beside me. Adrian was on the floor, playing with the toys and glancing at Darrel in the hope that he would join in.
‘I’m sure he’ll play with you soon,’ I said. Then to Shelley: ‘Would you and Darrel like a drink?’
‘No, thank you, we had one before we left. He had warm milk, and he has one before he goes to bed too. I put the milk in the bag.’
‘Yes, I saw it, thanks. Although I’ve got plenty of milk here. Has he had his dinner?’
‘Yes, and I gave him a bath this morning so there is no need for him to have one this evening. I thought it would be better for him if I did it rather than him having to have a bath in a strange house. No offence, but you know what I mean.’
I smiled. ‘Of course. Don’t worry. I’ll keep to your routine. I’ll show you both around the house before you leave, so it won’t be so strange.’
‘Thank you.’
I guessed Shelley was in her early twenties, so she could only have been seventeen or eighteen when she’d had Darrel, but she obviously thought the world of him, and, as the social worker had said, she was a good mother. She was slim, average height, with fair, shoulder-length hair and was dressed fashionably in jeans and layered tops. She had a sweet, round face but was clearly on edge – she kept frowning and chewing her bottom lip. I knew Darrel would pick up on this. Paula, at my side, was now chancing a look at Darrel as if she might be brave enough to go over to him soon. Shelley saw this. ‘Come and say hello to Darrel,’ she said. ‘He’s just a bit shy, like me.’
But Paula shook her head. ‘In a few minutes,’ I said.
‘I think I’ve packed everything Darrel needs,’ Shelley said. ‘His plate, bowl, mug and cutlery are in the blue bag in the hall. I’ve put in some of his favourite toys and Spot the dog. He’s the soft toy Darrel takes to bed. Darrel is toilet trained, but he still has a nappy at night. I’ve put some nappies in the black bag, but he only needs one. I didn’t have room to bring his step stool, but he needs that to reach the toilet.’
‘Don’t worry. I have a couple of those,’ I said. ‘They are already in place in the bathroom and toilet.’
‘Thanks. I’ve put baby wipes in the blue bag too. His clothes and night things are in the black bag, but I couldn’t fit in his changing mat.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I said again. ‘I have one of those too. In fact, I have most things children need.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, you would have,’ Shelley said with a small, embarrassed laugh. ‘You have children and you foster. Silly me.’
She was lovely but so anxious. ‘I promise I’ll take good care of Darrel and keep him safe,’ I said. ‘He’ll be fine. How did you get here with all those bags and Darrel?’
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Cathy Glass
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Биографии и мемуары
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 28.04.2024
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О книге: The heartbreaking true story of a young, troubled mother who needed help.The sixteenth fostering memoir by Cathy Glass.It is the first time Laura has been out since the birth of her baby when Cathy sees her in the school playground. A joyful occasion but Cathy has the feeling something is wrong. By the time she discovers what it is, it is too late. This is the true story of Laura whose life touches Cathy’s in a way she could never have foreseen. It is also the true stories of little Darrel, Samson and Hayley who she fosters when their parents need help. Some stories can have a happy ending and others cannot, but as a foster carer Cathy can only do her best.