Читать книгу Can I Let You Go? - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 9

‘Wilma is blaming the stables or the day centre,’ Becky continued in the elevator. ‘But they are adamant it couldn’t have happened there. Faye is never left unattended long enough to meet a man.’

‘Wilma said that Faye can use the bus once she knows the route,’ I said. ‘So presumably she’s on her own for some periods?’

‘Yes, but only for the length of the bus journey. One of the staff at the day centre or the stables sees her onto the bus, and the bus stop here is right outside the flats. If Faye is delayed for any reason or the bus is late one of the staff phones Wilma and Stan. There just isn’t a window of opportunity when Faye could have met someone, although clearly she has.’

‘And Wilma and Stan have no idea who he might be?’ I asked. The elevator stopped, the doors opened and we got out.

‘No, or if they do know they’re not saying,’ Becky continued outside. ‘When I tried talking to Faye about it she just looked at me blankly. I’m not sure she even understands how she got pregnant, although I did explain. She’ll be spending a lot of time with you after the move, so perhaps she’ll open up once she’s away from her grandparents.’

I nodded thoughtfully. ‘I guess Faye is entitled to a relationship just as anyone is. As long as she gave her consent.’

‘Yes. Exactly,’ Becky said. We were now standing by her car. ‘Adults with learning difficulties are very vulnerable. Statistically they are far more likely to be abused than anyone else in our society. Shocking, isn’t it? But I don’t know if someone has taken advantage of Faye or if she has been seeing someone. If she’d told me I could have arranged for her to see a nurse for contraception advice. I know some good nurses with experience of adults with learning difficulties. It’s something I’ll need to consider after the baby is born. I don’t want this happening again. So if you can find out if she is likely to see the father again, I’d be very grateful.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ I said. ‘But given that Faye only has four contacts in her phone, five now with mine, isn’t it unlikely she’s in a relationship? How has she been communicating with him?’

Becky shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘And Wilma and Stan never leave her alone in the flat?’

‘Not according to Wilma, although she was very quick to blame the stables and the day centre when she first found out. Stan never says much. Anyway, Cathy, hopefully Faye will open up to you. Thanks for taking her. We only have a few foster carers who specialize in adult fostering and they’re full. I guess it doesn’t appeal as much as looking after children.’

‘To be honest, it’s not something I’d previously considered,’ I admitted. ‘But I’m glad Edith thought of me. We’ll do our best for Faye.’

‘Thank you.’ Then, glancing at her watch, she added, ‘I need to be going now; I’m in a meeting soon. I’ll phone you on Monday after the move. Thanks again.’

We said goodbye. Becky got into her car and I went to mine. Did I feel happier now I’d met Faye? Yes, to some extent I did. Perhaps happy wasn’t the right word – she was, after all, still going to give up her baby – but I was slightly more at ease with it, simply because Faye didn’t appear upset or distraught about being pregnant or having her baby adopted. Indeed, it had hardly been mentioned. She’d been more concerned about not being able to go to the stables. Becky had said that Wilma had taken the news badly, but she, too, had appeared more relaxed now, perhaps because a fostering placement had been found to help them out.

Yet it was difficult to know, I thought, as I began the drive home, if Faye had really come to terms with what was happening or if she was just ignoring it, or didn’t even understand the implications. I’d noticed that she’d seemed oblivious to her baby bump and hadn’t rubbed or cupped it with her hand as many expectant mothers do. Was it possible she thought she was just growing fat? Although by now – six months – the baby would be moving inside her. I’d talk to her about it once she was living with me: to prepare her was part of my role.

That evening over dinner I told Adrian, Lucy and Paula about the meeting with Faye, and that I’d be collecting her on Sunday afternoon and was looking for a volunteer to help carry her bags. Adrian said he’d arranged to see Kirsty (his girlfriend) for the day but offered to meet her later so he could help me. There was no need, as both the girls were free and said they would help. After dinner I telephoned my mother as I had been doing every evening since Dad had passed. I always started by asking her how she was and what she’d been doing during the day. Her reply was usually that she’d been tidying up the garden or reading, both of which were solitary pursuits, but perhaps it was still a bit soon to be seeing friends or going on day trips as she and Dad had done. This evening I mentioned that Faye would be coming to live with us for the remainder of her pregnancy. Mum was quite stoical in her response, as Adrian had been. ‘I suppose if she has to give up the baby it’s best done sooner rather than later,’ she said. ‘It will have a good home and be very well loved by the adoptive parents. Does she know the sex of the baby?’

‘I don’t know. It wasn’t mentioned,’ I said.

We chatted for a while longer and then I said I’d like to come and see her on Saturday and suggested we go out for some lunch. She didn’t want to go out, so I said we’d make something there to eat. I didn’t think that Mum was depressed, but she did sound sad sometimes, which was hardly surprising given she’d recently lost Dad. It would obviously take time for her to come to terms with a future without him, just as it would for all of us, and I reminded myself of the maxim that time is a great healer.

The following day (Friday) I gave Faye’s room a thorough clean and then I did a large supermarket shop, as I would be out all day Saturday. I knew from the placement information forms that Faye had no special dietary requirements, so I stocked up with a range of nutritious foods as well as some treats – biscuits, ice cream, crisps – which I think are fine in moderation. Since I’d learnt that I’d be fostering Faye, I’d been giving some thought to the differences between fostering children and teenagers, and an adult with a learning disability. Many aspects seemed similar – for example, the care and support I would give her – but as an adult Faye had a right to make her own decisions as much as possible, which would help maintain and develop her self-confidence and independence. Yet, while I’d had plenty of experience fostering children and teenagers, and the benefit of ongoing training, Faye was my first adult placement. Edith must have been thinking the same, because shortly after I returned home from shopping she telephoned.

‘Cathy, I’ve been looking to see if there is any training that you might find useful, but we don’t seem to offer an awful lot specifically for fostering adults. There’s a two-day introductory course, but the next session isn’t for another eight weeks, which is going to be a bit late to help you. There is some information on the internet, though. I’ve sent you some links, and if you have any questions or concerns, you can always telephone Becky. She’s highly experienced in adult social care.’

‘Thank you, I will.’

So that evening I went online and, using Edith’s links and a search engine, I learnt quite a bit about foster care provision for adults. At present there are over 10,000 adult fostering placements in England; half of those are living in permanent placements. The ages of the adults fostered ranged from eighteen to over sixty, with three-quarters of the adults having a learning disability, and the others a physical disability or mental health problems. Schemes for fostering adults appeared to vary widely in different parts of the country, with some areas offering far more than others. The big advantage for the care receiver was that they could live with and be part of a family rather than in a care home. I learnt that the process for applying to foster adults was very similar to that of fostering children, with an assessment carried out by a social worker, references, a police check (now known as Disclosure and Barring Service), a health check and introductory training. Once the person was with the foster carer, their social worker visited regularly to monitor and support the placement, which was reassuring. While all this was very interesting, there was virtually no practical advice on fostering adults beyond it requiring patience, understanding and a wish to work with vulnerable adults.

Adrian, Lucy and Paula came with me on Saturday to visit Mum. She lived about an hour’s drive away. They were very quiet in the car, gazing out of their side windows rather than listening to music or chatting. I guessed that they, like me, were finding it difficult going to the house again; our first visit after the funeral, the house that for all their lives had been Nana and Papa’s home but was now just Nana’s. Although we’d already been quite a few times since Dad had passed, it wasn’t getting much easier. Arriving and leaving were the worst, with just Mum greeting us at the door and seeing us off, when it had always been the two of them. Once we were inside it became a little easier and today we all found jobs to do. Adrian cut the grass and then washed the car – my brother was selling it for Mum, as she didn’t drive – while the girls and I helped Mum prepare lunch and lay the table. It was the first time we’d all sat at the dining table since Dad had died; previously, when we’d been there to organize the funeral, we’d had sandwiches and snacks on our laps. Dad always sat in the same place at the head of the table, and ridiculously I left his place empty, which of course emphasized his absence. As we sat down Mum quietly moved her chair into the space.

‘That’s better,’ she said, and we all relaxed.

After lunch I asked Mum if she would like some help clearing out Dad’s clothes, which is a daunting and heartbreaking task. But she said she would do it in her own time and had already made a start. She then produced a gift for each of the children, a memento of their grandpa. His favourite cufflinks for Adrian, an inlaid wooden trinket box for Lucy and his paperweight for Paula, which she’d always admired. Even if they never used the items, they would be treasured as touching personal reminders of Grandpa. I could see the emotion in their faces as they thanked their nana and then kissed and hugged her.

As usual we were reluctant to leave Mum alone and took a long time parting. Eventually Mum said it would be time for her bath soon and shooed us towards the front door. ‘Phone me to let me know you’re home safely,’ she said as she always did. ‘I hope tomorrow goes well. I’ll look forward to meeting Faye.’

We got into the car and waved goodbye, each of us trying to adjust to seeing one lone figure in the porch.

On our return home Sammy was very pleased to see us and shot in through the cat flap as soon as he heard our voices in the hall. He was a short-haired cat of mixed breed with distinctive black-and-white markings and a haughty air about him, despite his past. He’d been living on the streets, presumably since birth, until someone took him to a cat rescue centre. We’d hesitated about having another cat for many years after Toscha had died, feeling that she was irreplaceable, but we were all pleased we’d gone ahead, as I hoped Sammy was too. He’d been quite feral to begin with and hadn’t wanted much to do with us, but now he was gradually accepting our affection, allowing us to stroke him and occasionally sitting on our laps. Although I thought he would always be his own person, and we respected that.

Before I went to bed that night I checked through the placement information forms Becky had sent me to make sure I hadn’t missed anything important. As we lived in the same National Health Service area as Faye, after the move she would be able to continue going to the same clinic and hospital she’d already been attending. I made a note to remember to make sure she brought her maternity folder with her, otherwise I’d have to go back for it, as it had to be taken to all her antenatal appointments. I also made a note to remember Snuggles, although I thought Faye wasn’t likely to forget him. I knew from what Becky had told me that Faye had lived with her grandparents since the age of two when her mother had died from liver failure, assumed to be a result of alcoholism. The problems that had led to Faye’s mother drinking herself to death weren’t known, and Faye’s father had never been named. Faye had an uncle (Wilma and Stan’s son) and two adult cousins, but they seldom saw them. The son had done well for himself and had moved out of the area. Satisfied I knew what I needed to, I closed the folder and went to bed.

The following morning Adrian was up before the rest of us, as he was going out for the day with Kirsty. We had breakfast together and I saw him off at the door in my dressing gown, then the girls and I had a leisurely morning. After lunch, at 1.30, we left in the car to collect Faye. Although Faye knew what my family looked like from the photographs, my family had no idea what she looked like, which is often the case when a move is planned and the child has seen the photograph album. As I drove I tried to describe Faye to Paula and Lucy. ‘She’s about five feet two inches tall, softly spoken, with a pleasant, round face and straight hair. She looks and acts much younger than her age, but she appears gentle and kind.’ They already knew Faye had learning difficulties and lived with her grandparents. ‘She might want to hug you,’ I said. ‘She likes hugging.’

It was just as well I’d said this, for Faye answered the door, took one look at me and threw her arms around me in a big hug. ‘I’m coming to stay with you like a holiday,’ she said. She appeared excited by the prospect and I was pleased. She could easily have been upset at having to leave her grandparents.

‘Yes, you are!’ I said, mirroring her excitement. ‘We’re looking forward to having you stay with us. This is Lucy and Paula, my daughters. You remember you saw their photographs? You’ll meet my son Adrian later.’

‘Hello,’ she said, now a little shy. ‘Are you going to be my sisters while I live with you?’

‘Yes, we are,’ Lucy said.

Faye smiled broadly and then threw her arms around Lucy, hugging her, and then Paula. They looked slightly embarrassed, but I could see they were touched by Faye’s easy and open display of affection, and her lack of adult inhibition made their first meeting much easier.

‘Are you packed and ready?’ I asked as we went in. I closed the door.

‘Yes.’

‘Bring them in here!’ Wilma called from the living room.

‘Whoops,’ Faye said, smiling as she realized this was what she was supposed to do.

‘No worries,’ I said.

We followed her into the living room where Wilma was sitting on the sofa exactly as I’d left her three days earlier. Stan was getting to his feet, using his stick for support.

‘These are my daughters, Lucy and Paula,’ I said to them both.

‘Hello,’ Wilma said, running her eyes over them. I wondered if she disapproved of what they were wearing. They were dressed fashionably but tastefully, although very differently to the way she dressed Faye.

‘Nice to meet you, ladies,’ Stan said to the girls, propping himself on his walking stick. They smiled back.

‘And you,’ Paula said politely.

‘Faye is packed, her bags are in her room,’ Wilma said matter-of-factly. ‘We’re seeing her Tuesday? Becky said to check with you first, but she felt Faye should be with you all day tomorrow to settle in.’

‘Yes, Tuesday is fine with me,’ I said. ‘What time?’

‘Becky said between eleven o’clock and three. You’ll come with Faye on the bus to begin with?’

‘Yes, and then I’ll return at three o’clock to bring her home. It’s only one bus – number forty-seven. She’ll soon get used to it.’ I smiled at Faye.

‘After she’s done the journey with you three or four times she should be all right by herself,’ Wilma said.

‘OK.’ Obviously it would have been easier for me to take and collect Faye in my car, but that wouldn’t have helped her independence.

‘Fetch your things then,’ Wilma said to Faye.

‘Shall we come and help?’ Lucy asked, stepping forward.

‘Yes, please,’ I said. ‘And don’t forget Snuggles,’ I called after them.

‘As if she would!’ Stan said indulgently. ‘He’s been sitting on top of her case all morning.’

I smiled. ‘And her maternity folder and mobile phone are packed?’ I asked.

‘Yes, they’re in the case,’ Wilma confirmed.

The girls returned almost immediately from Faye’s bedroom. Lucy was carrying a suitcase, Paula a shoulder bag and Faye Snuggles.

‘Is that everything?’ I asked, surprised.

‘Yes,’ Wilma said. ‘She can always collect some more clothes if she needs to when she visits.’ Which was true. ‘Although she hasn’t got that much that fits her now. She’s been wearing my clothes, but I need them here.’

I guessed money was tight living on state benefits, and Wilma didn’t strike me as the sort of person who would spend money on maternity wear that would only be worn for a few months.

‘I was thinking of taking Faye shopping for some maternity clothes, if that’s all right with you?’ I asked diplomatically. ‘As you know, I receive an allowance while Faye is with me.’

Wilma nodded.

‘That would be good,’ Stan said. ‘We’ve told Faye that staying with you is like going on holiday, so those can be her new holiday clothes.’ Which was a quaint way of putting it.

‘Good. I’ll take her shopping for some new outfits then,’ I said. ‘See you on Tuesday. Would you like Faye to telephone you this evening?’

‘Only if she wants to,’ Stan said. ‘She sees more than enough of us.’

I smiled. ‘But do phone us if you want to chat. You have my phone numbers?’

‘Yes, Becky gave them to us,’ Wilma confirmed.

We all said goodbye, and Wilma stayed where she was on the sofa while Stan came with us.

‘Faye, aren’t you going to kiss me goodbye?’ Wilma called after her.

Faye stopped in the hall, looked at us and chuckled. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, clamping her hand over her mouth. ‘I nearly forgot!’

The girls and I laughed too, while Stan tutted fondly. Faye clearly had a sense of humour and now that she was more relaxed around us it was starting to come out.

‘She’d forget her head if it wasn’t screwed on,’ Stan said affectionately as Faye returned to the living room to kiss her gran goodbye. ‘But she’s a good, kind kid. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. We’re going to miss her.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ I said. ‘But it’s not for long and I’ll look after her.’

‘Thank you,’ he said gratefully. I thought that Stan felt a lot more than he showed.

Faye returned from the living room and hugged her grandpa goodbye. ‘Look after yourself and enjoy your time at Cathy’s,’ he said to her.

‘I’m going on holiday,’ she replied happily. ‘Say goodbye to Snuggles, Grandpa.’

‘Bye, Snuggles. Behave yourself,’ Stan said. It was lovely the way he accepted her for who she was.

Leaning on his stick for support, he opened the front door and then took a couple of steps out of the flat. He stood in the corridor and watched us walk to the elevator, then called goodbye and returned indoors. It was clearly an effort for him to walk and his left side was still weak from the stroke.

‘Is your house a long way away?’ Faye asked as we waited for the elevator.

‘No, not far. About a twenty-minute drive,’ I said. I’d mentioned this at my previous visit, but she must have forgotten or not understood.

‘I have a watch!’ she announced and drew up her left sleeve so we could see her wrist watch.

‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘That’s good. I can show you how long it is to my house.’ It’s so much easier to explain time with the aid of an analogue watch or clock. I always make sure the children I foster have one.

‘Which is the minute hand, do you know?’ I asked her.

‘Yes, the big hand,’ she said.

‘That’s right. It’s pointing to five now so in twenty minutes it will be there, on the nine. Do you know what the time will be then?’

She studied her watch for a moment and then said, ‘Quarter to three.’

‘Well done. So twenty minutes isn’t long; it’s from there to there,’ I said, showing her on the watch.

‘It’s not long,’ she told Lucy and Paula, and they smiled.

The elevator doors opened and we got in. ‘The lift smells,’ Faye announced, sniffing the air.

‘Yes, it’s disinfectant,’ I said. ‘I think it’s just been cleaned.’

‘Gran says some naughty people use it as a toilet late at night,’ Faye said.

‘Urgh gross!’ Lucy exclaimed, horrified, and peered down at the floor.

Faye looked bemused and a little alarmed at Lucy’s outburst. ‘What does gross mean?’ she asked me.

‘Dirty, not nice,’ I said.

As the elevator descended I saw Faye eyeing Lucy and Paula curiously and I wondered how much contact she normally had with young people. From what I’d learnt so far she seemed to spend most of her time with her grandparents, apart from two days a week when she went to the stables and the day centre. The elevator stopped, the doors opened and a middle-aged couple who knew Faye were waiting for the elevator. They smiled and said hello to her.

‘I’m going away but I’m coming back,’ she told them.

‘I know,’ the woman said kindly. ‘Your gran said. See you soon.’

We crossed to the car where Lucy and Paula loaded Faye’s suitcase and shoulder bag into the boot. I asked Faye if she would like to sit with me in the front, or in the rear. She wanted to sit in the rear so Paula sat with her, as it was Lucy’s turn to sit in the passenger seat. Despite their ages, my children still coveted the front seat, just as they had done when they were younger, and took turns to sit there, unless Adrian was with us, when it was his seat, as he needed the extra leg-room.

‘Five minutes has passed,’ Faye announced, looking at her watch as I started the engine.

‘Twenty minutes was only an estimate,’ I said, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror. ‘It has taken us five minutes to come down in the elevator and get in the car.’

‘Our home is twenty minutes from now,’ Paula said. ‘So we’ll arrive at about ten minutes to three.’

Faye studied her watch and then looked out of her side window. There was a silence for a while and then Lucy asked Faye, ‘What sort of things do you like to do in your spare time?’

‘Watch television,’ Faye said.

‘Me too,’ Lucy agreed. ‘What programmes do you like?’

‘I like Coronation Street, EastEnders and Emmerdale, the same as Gran.’

‘You’re in good company then,’ I said. ‘Lucy loves the soaps.’

Lucy then talked to Faye about what was happening in these series, and Paula and Faye joined in. Paula watched soaps sometimes, but not as much as Lucy, who updated herself from the internet if she missed an episode. I’m not a great soap fan.

After a while I said, ‘Faye likes being at the stables too.’

‘I love the horses,’ Faye said. ‘More than I love Gary in EastEnders.’ Which made us all laugh.

‘So what do you do at the stables?’ Paula asked. ‘Do you ride the horses?’

‘Sometimes, but I also help muck them out.’

‘Yuck, what does that mean?’ Lucy asked. Considering she worked with children, she was rather delicate in these matters.

‘It means we have to shovel up their poo and put it in a wheelbarrow,’ Faye said.

‘Gross,’ Lucy said.

‘Gross,’ Faye repeated. ‘It’s very smelly.’

‘I don’t mind it,’ Paula said. ‘I go riding sometimes. Do you have a favourite horse?’

I could see that Paula and Lucy, like me, were working out where to pitch the conversation with Faye, and I thought they were doing well.

‘Whisper is my favourite,’ Faye said. ‘She is a Shetland cross and is eleven hands high. You measure horses and ponies in hands. My next favourite is Misty. He is a black gelding and is twelve hands high. I only ride those two because they are very gentle. But I help look after the others and stroke them.’

‘That’s fantastic,’ I said, glancing at her in the interior mirror. ‘You know a lot about horses.’

I saw her smile. ‘Some of the kids from the flats call me stupid,’ she said. ‘But Grandpa tells me to ignore them. He says I’m not stupid, I know more than them about horses.’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Your grandpa is a very wise man. It’s stupid to call people names.’

The thought of anyone calling Faye names or being unkind to her was enough to make me tear up. Gentle, kind Faye. But I could see how vulnerable she was, and I fully understood why her grandparents had become overprotective.