Читать книгу Can I Let You Go?: Part 2 of 3: A heartbreaking true story of love, loss and moving on - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 5

One of the issues a parent or carer may encounter when looking after a child or adult with a learning disability is with communication and language difficulties: understanding their wishes and needs. Faye had adequate language skills to see her through everyday situations, but she wouldn’t necessarily be able to define, identify or verbalize complex emotions, as the average adult would. In children I’d seen this come out in angry, frustrated outbursts, but in Faye’s case it appeared she’d been internalizing her feelings to protect her grandparents. Although Becky hadn’t said an awful lot, it was enough to persuade Faye that it was all right for her to start talking to me about being pregnant and the baby. After Becky left, Faye continued doing the jigsaw puzzle and then asked if she could help me cook dinner tonight. I said of course she could and that I was planning on making a casserole, which I needed to prepare now, as it required a long, slow cook.

In the kitchen Faye helped me to collect together the ingredients we needed from the fridge and cupboards, and to wash them. I then gave her a knife and, following my example, she stood beside me at the worktop, peeling, chopping and slicing the ingredients and placing them into the casserole dish. Snuggles sat propped up at the end of the counter, watching us.

‘Have you ever had a baby in your tummy?’ Faye suddenly asked as we worked, which took me by surprise.

‘Yes. Twice. First with Adrian and then Paula. It seems incredible now that they were that small once,’ I added reflectively.

‘What about Lucy?’ Faye asked.

‘She wasn’t in my tummy. She was in another woman’s tummy, her birth mother’s. She is my adopted daughter.’ I glanced at Faye. ‘Like your baby is going to be adopted, but you will always be her birth mother.’

‘Becky said she is going to find a really nice mummy and daddy for my baby,’ Faye said.

‘Yes, I’m sure she will.’ I didn’t know what stage the process of identifying adoptive parents for Faye’s baby had reached, but I guessed the search for a suitable match had already begun, and it wouldn’t take long. There are thousands of childless couples wanting to adopt a baby, although the baby would be placed with a foster carer to begin with until the legal process was complete. It hadn’t really been appropriate to ask Becky how soon after the birth the baby would be taken from Faye as I’d intended to, but Faye now said, ‘Becky told me I could have a photograph of me holding my baby, if I wanted to. I’ve told her no. Gran and Grandpa said it would be too upsetting.’

‘I can understand that,’ I said. ‘Some find it helpful.’

‘Gran says that once I’ve had the baby and go home we need to try to forget it, and carry on with our lives.’

I nodded noncommittally but thought that might be easier said than done.

‘Does Lucy’s birth mother have a photograph of her?’ Faye asked, placing another slice of carrot into the casserole dish.

‘Yes. She still sees her sometimes.’ I stopped, wondering if this was the wisest conversation to be having and if it might confuse Faye. ‘It was different with Lucy,’ I said. ‘She was much older when she came to me – eleven, not a baby.’

‘Why?’ Faye asked.

‘Lucy had a very unsettled and unhappy childhood. She had to live in a number of different homes before she came to me. That won’t happen to your baby. It will have a lovely mummy and daddy right from being a baby, which will be much better.’

Faye nodded. We’d finished chopping the carrots and I now passed her a celery stick to chop, while I took an onion. ‘Same chopping motion,’ I said. ‘And be careful of your fingers. We don’t want finger in the casserole.’

Faye laughed while I mused, feeling relieved, that not only was Faye now talking about her baby, but also adoption. All it had taken was a few appropriate words of encouragement from her social worker.

‘Is Lucy’s mummy …’ Faye began.

‘Birth mother,’ I corrected.

‘Is Lucy’s birth mother happy that Lucy is living with you?’

‘Yes, I think she is. She struggled for a long time to try to look after Lucy, so she’s pleased she’s settled now.’ I felt tears spring to the backs of my eyes, as they always did when I thought of Lucy’s early life and her suffering. I tell Lucy’s story in my book Will You Love Me?

‘I won’t struggle, will I?’ Faye asked.

‘No, you won’t. You will have your gran and grandpa to look after you. And when you think of your baby, which you will do sometimes, you’ll know it is loved and well cared for.’ I reached for a tissue to wipe my eyes. ‘It must be those onions,’ I said.

When I served the casserole that evening I told Paula, Lucy and Adrian that Faye had helped me make it and they were very complimentary. Far more complimentary than when I alone made dinner. Their praise and kind comments pleased Faye, and she said she wanted to help me again another time. As it was Friday – the end of the working week – Adrian and Lucy went out in the evening and Paula had a friend over. I asked Faye if she would like to invite Emma, her friend from the day centre, here one time. I explained I could speak to her parents and collect and return her in the car if necessary.

‘No,’ Faye said, pulling a face. ‘I don’t want her here.’

‘Why?’

‘She doesn’t like watching the television programmes I do.’

I kept my smile to myself. Faye was serious. ‘I see. How do you know that?’

‘We talk about what we do in the evenings at the day centre. That’s how I know.’

‘Well, if she came here you wouldn’t need to watch television. You could do something else, like puzzles, board games, play cards, or we could do some cooking – maybe make a pizza? Or you could sit and chat and listen to music, like Lucy and Paula do.’ I tried to make it sound exciting and enticing. I thought it would do Faye good to see her friend, as she wasn’t going to the day centre. I appreciated how difficult it was for her grandparents with their limited mobility to organize a visit.

‘Nah,’ Faye said, sounding like a teenager. ‘I’ll see her when I go to the day centre again. I’d rather watch television.’

‘OK. Tell me if you change your mind.’

On Saturday I took Faye on the bus to see her grandparents, and once I was home again I had a small window of opportunity to spend time with Lucy, Adrian and Paula before I had to leave again to collect Faye. Lucy asked why I didn’t collect Faye in the car and I explained that I had to familiarize her with the route so she could visit her grandparents alone, but that we hadn’t reached that point yet. Going was fine; the correct bus stop in the high street was easy to identify, as was the stop at the other end, because it was in the area Faye knew well. But on the return journey Faye wasn’t recognizing the landmarks in the high street in time to push the bell to signal to the driver she wanted the bus to stop.

Stan and Wilma greeted me warmly when I arrived at three o’clock to collect Faye, and Wilma asked after my family. Then, as I waited for Faye to put on her coat and shoes, Wilma asked how the visit from the social worker had gone the day before.

‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Didn’t Faye say?’

‘No,’ Stan said. ‘We couldn’t get a word out of her about it.’ I could understand why. It would be uncomfortable for Faye to tell her grandparents that she’d agreed to talk about her pregnancy to me but not to them, so it was easier to say nothing, which was what she tended to do when faced with awkward situations.

‘The antenatal appointment yesterday morning went well too,’ I said. ‘Although Faye didn’t say much. Health-wise, everything is as it should be.’

They nodded, and I knew this was probably as much information as they wanted about the antenatal check-up, preferring to ignore the pregnancy as Faye had been doing, and was still doing with them.

Before we left to catch the bus back I confirmed that Faye would be visiting them again on Monday – she was seeing them every other day when possible. Stan came with us to the elevator to say goodbye, and then as we descended I asked Faye if she’d had a nice day, as I usually did. She said she had and that their neighbours had ‘popped in for a cup of tea and a chat’ and had spent the afternoon with them. The couple were a similar age to her grandparents and Faye had clearly enjoyed their company.

As the bus approached our stop I reminded Faye of the landmarks she had to look out for, and with my prompts she pressed the bell in plenty of time. Once home she completed the jigsaw puzzle she’d been doing and we all admired it before packing it away. After dinner she watched television. Paula joined her and presently I heard them chatting. Later, when Faye went for her bath, Paula said to me, ‘Did you know Faye is talking about the baby?’

‘Yes. Her social worker explained to her that it’s better to talk about worries than to keep them bottled up when they can upset you.’

‘She wasn’t worried or upset,’ Paula said. ‘There was an advert for baby things on the television and it showed a pregnant woman. Faye said, “She’s like me,” and rubbed her stomach.’

‘Good. That sounds positive,’ I said.

But while Faye wasn’t worried or upset by talking about her baby now, I soon learnt that I’d unintentionally upset Lucy. She came to me with a type of frown I hadn’t seen in a long while. ‘Why have you been talking about me to Faye?’ she asked, slightly confrontationally.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘I often mention you and your brother and sister to others, because I’m so proud of you all.’

‘Not like that,’ she said a little moodily. ‘You’ve been talking to Faye about me being adopted.’

‘Oh, I see,’ I said, immediately realizing my error. ‘I’m sorry. I was just trying to make her feel better about her baby being adopted. I didn’t say much, but I should have realized. I won’t say any more.’ Like many children who’d been in and out of care for much of their childhood, Lucy had craved a normal family life, which of course she had now with us. That she was adopted was rarely mentioned, and she was as much a part of my family as if she’d been born to me. I couldn’t have loved her any more. But she remained sensitive to some issues from her past, and I needed to remember that.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said again. ‘It was thoughtless of me. It won’t happen again.’

‘OK,’ Lucy said, recovering. ‘You’re forgiven. Big hugs.’ She spread her arms wide.

I hugged her and held her close. ‘I love you so much. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes. I love you too.’

‘But, Lucy, you need to be prepared for the possibility that Faye might mention adoption again or want to talk about birth mothers. She doesn’t understand what is appropriate, and I can’t tell her not to talk about these things when Becky and I have been encouraging her to talk.’

‘I know,’ Lucy said easily. ‘It’s fine, really. It was just a shock when she suddenly said, “My baby is being adopted like you are.”’

‘I can see that, but be prepared for the fact that she may say something similar. She won’t know it could upset you.’

‘I understand,’ Lucy said.

Paula, Lucy, Adrian and Faye all came with me to visit my mother on Sunday, so there was a car full. Adrian sat in the front passenger seat for the extra leg-room and the three girls were in the back. The radio was on, but Lucy and Paula were plugged into their phones, either listening to music, texting or making and taking calls. I’d asked Faye if she wanted to bring her phone, but it didn’t hold the same appeal to her as it did for many young people who like to be in regular contact with their peers through social media. However, she did have Snuggles on her lap. Faye was looking forward to meeting my mother, and I’d telephoned Mum the evening before to check it was still all right for us all to descend on her, and if she wanted us to bring anything.

‘Just bring yourselves,’ she’d said, as she often did. Although of course we were taking her flowers and chocolates.

‘Do you have a grandpa?’ Faye asked as I drove. I’d told her that my father had died, but she must have forgotten. Thankfully Lucy and Paula hadn’t heard, as they had earphones in, but Adrian looked at me a little disconcerted.

‘No, love,’ I said to Faye. ‘Grandpa died recently.’ I glanced at her in the rear-view mirror.

‘That’s sad,’ she said, her face dropping. ‘I hope my grandpa and gran don’t die.’

‘I’m afraid we all have to die some time,’ I said. ‘But I’m sure it won’t be for a long time yet.’ I hoped Faye didn’t talk like that at Mum’s, as it could be upsetting for everyone. But as with Lucy’s adoption, I couldn’t give Faye a list of taboo subjects that she wasn’t to talk about. Much of the time she saw life through the eyes of a child and had their same lack of inhibitions. She said things as they were, and if her innocent remarks touched a nerve with us then it fell upon us to make allowances and accommodate them. It wasn’t Faye’s fault she could be tactless sometimes; it was part of her learning disability.

I sensed the atmosphere in the car shift as I drew onto the drive at Mum’s house and cut the engine. It was still difficult arriving, aware that just Mum would be answering the door. Lucy and Paula took out their earphones and there was a sharp silence for a second when no one moved or spoke, before Faye said brightly, ‘Is this where your gran lives?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Doesn’t she live in a flat?’

‘No, in this house.’

‘It’s a nice house,’ she said. Then she told Snuggles the house was nice and that Paula, Lucy and Adrian’s gran lived here, which lightened the atmosphere.

Mum appeared at the front door – I guessed she’d been looking out for us – and we smiled and called hi as we got out of the car. As soon as Faye was out she ran to Mum. I looked over anxiously, concerned as to what she was going to do, but she just wanted to hug her, greeting her as she did her own grandparents. Mum looked a bit surprised. ‘Well, that’s a lovely hello,’ she said, returning the hug. ‘You must be Faye.’

Faye beamed and stepped back. ‘Yes, I am Faye, and this is Snuggles.’

I’d already told Mum about Snuggles.

Faye went indoors as Mum hugged and kissed each of us in turn. As I gave Mum the flowers and chocolates I remembered how Dad used to joke to Mum, ‘The flowers are all yours and the chocolates are all mine.’ I smiled at the recollection.

Indoors, I went with Mum into the kitchen to help her make hot drinks and put the flowers in water, while Lucy, Adrian and Paula showed Faye into the living room. The house was as it had always been. Mum hadn’t made any changes, other than removing Dad’s personal possessions from downstairs. His spare glasses, crossword book (he always had a crossword on the go), coat and umbrella were no longer in their usual places.

We arranged a plate of biscuits and the drinks on a tray and I carried it into the living room, where I handed out the drinks while Mum offered the biscuits. Adrian was sitting in what had been Dad’s armchair and I was pleased; it seemed to be another little step towards coming to terms with Dad’s passing and making it a little easier for us all. We settled with our drinks and biscuits and Mum talked to Paula about college, to Adrian and Lucy about their jobs and to Faye about horses. I’d mentioned to Mum that Faye liked horses and Mum always made sure she included any child we were fostering in the conversations (as Dad had also done). ‘Cathy tells me you like to go horse riding,’ she said to Faye.

‘Yes,’ Faye said. ‘But I can’t go now, so Cathy takes me to see horses in a field.’

‘That’s nice,’ Mum said. ‘I think we might have been there.’

‘Yes, we have,’ I agreed.

‘I feed the horses grass,’ Faye said. ‘And I’ve given them all names.’ She told us some of the names she could remember.

Once Adrian had finished his drink he said he’d go out and cut the grass. Mum began to protest, saying he hadn’t come here to work, but I said that Adrian liked to help and preferred to be doing something rather than sitting and chatting. Dad had been the same. Presently we saw Adrian through the patio windows, pushing the electric lawnmower up and down the grass. Lucy and Paula then went with Mum into the kitchen to help her prepare lunch. They often did. They loved spending time with their gran without me there and I respected that. I think grandchildren can have a special relationship with their grandparents, sharing and confiding in a way they wouldn’t necessarily do with their parents. The difference in age seems to close the generational gap, rather than widening it, and of course grandparents are generally relieved of any disciplining role, so they can more easily be the young person’s friend and confidant.

I stayed with Faye in the living room while Lucy, Paula and Adrian were occupied, and I asked her if she’d like some books to look at, but she asked if Gran had any games like I had. I pulled over the upholstered footstool that doubled as a toy box and lifted the lid. Faye knelt beside me and began searching through it. She took out the box of dominoes, which she said she sometimes played at the day centre. She and I played a couple of games and then we helped lay the table for lunch, although it was more like dinner with a main course of chops and roasted vegetables, followed by blackberry and apple pie and custard. The pudding had been one of Dad’s favourites as well as ours. ‘It’s nice to have the opportunity to make it again,’ Mum said. ‘It’s not worth making for one – I’d be eating it all week.’

After we’d finished lunch and had helped clear away, Adrian found some more jobs to do, including fixing the bolt on the side gate, which had broken when the gate had slammed in the wind, and oiling its hinges. The girls and I helped Mum wash up and put away the dishes, so it was soon done. Faye said she often did the dishes at home, as her gran and grandpa couldn’t stand at the sink for long. We then sat in the living room and chatted for a while, and then at Faye’s request we played some card games she knew from the day centre. Despite my initial reservations that Faye might say something to upset Mum, the day had gone well. Faye was relaxed around Mum, and while she often mentioned her own grandparents and that she liked to help them, as their legs were bad, she didn’t make any untoward remarks about my father that could have been upsetting. Neither did she mention being pregnant or the baby. In the car going home I found out why. ‘I made sure I talked about things that wouldn’t upset your gran,’ she said. ‘Like I have to with my gran and grandpa. I don’t like seeing them upset, so we had a nice day and were all happy.’

I smiled. ‘Yes, indeed.’