Читать книгу The Silent Cry: There is little Kim can do as her mother's mental health spirals out of control - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 9

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?’

‘On the bus,’ she replied.

‘I wish I’d known. I could have come and collected you in the car.’

‘That’s kind, but we’re pretty self-sufficient. I like it that way. You can’t be let down then.’ She gave another nervous little laugh and I wondered what had happened in her past to make her feel that way.

Toscha, our lovable and docile cat, sauntered into the room and went over to Adrian.

‘Oh, you’ve got a cat!’ Shelley exclaimed. For a moment I thought she was going to tell me that Darrel was allergic to cat fur and it could trigger an asthma attack, which was true for some children. Had this not been an emergency placement I would have known more about Darrel, including facts like this. Thankfully Shelley now said excitedly, ‘Look at Cathy’s cat, Darrel. You like cats. Are you going to stroke her?’ Then to me: ‘Is she friendly?’

‘Yes, she’s very friendly. She’s called Toscha.’

Toscha was the prompt Darrel needed to relinquish his grip on his mother’s jersey. He turned and looked at the cat and then left her lap and joined Adrian on the floor beside Toscha. Paula then forgot her shyness and slid from the sofa to join them too.

‘Toscha likes being stroked,’ I said. Which was just as well, as three little hands now stroked her fur and petted her while she purred contentedly. Now Darrel was less anxious I could see Shelley start to relax too. With a small sigh she sat back in her chair.

‘I know I shouldn’t worry so much,’ she said. ‘But coming here brought back so many memories.’

I smiled, puzzled. ‘Oh yes? What sort of memories?’

‘Going into a foster carer’s home for the first time. I was in care for most of my life and I had so many moves. I hated having to move. New people and new routines. It was so scary. I felt scared most of my early life. I thought I’d got over all of that, but bringing Darrel here today brought it back.’ Which I thought explained at lot of Shelley’s apprehension and anxiety. ‘I’d rather die than let my little boy lead the life I had,’ she added.

‘He won’t,’ I said. ‘You’ll make sure of it. You’re doing a great job. Your social worker told me what a fantastic mum you are. I’m sorry your experiences in care weren’t good. It was wrong you had to keep moving, very wrong, but try not to worry about Darrel. He’ll be fine here with me and you’ll see him again tomorrow.’ My heart went out to her. Whatever had the poor child been through?

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘I worry about him so much. He’s all the family I have. I nearly wasn’t allowed to keep him when he was a baby. I had to prove to the social services that I could look after him.’

‘And you’ve done that,’ I said firmly. ‘Admirably.’ But I could see she was worried, and I understood why she had overcompensated. ‘Do the social services still have any involvement with you and Darrel?’ I asked, which again would have been something I’d known if the placement had been planned.

‘Not since Darrel was eighteen months old,’ Shelley said. ‘That’s when their supervision order stopped. It was a great relief. I was going to cancel my hospital appointment tomorrow when my friend let me down and said she couldn’t look after Darrel. But I knew I’d have to wait ages for another appointment and my teeth really hurt. I’ve got two impacted wisdom teeth and they’re taking them out under general anaesthetic tomorrow. I was really nervous when I phoned the social services to ask for help. I hung up twice before I spoke to anyone. Then I got through to my old social worker and told her what had happened. She was lovely and asked how Darrel and I were. She said she’d see what she could do to arrange something for Darrel so I didn’t have to cancel my appointment.’

I nodded sympathetically, and not for the first time since I’d started fostering I realized just how alone in the world some people are. ‘So who is collecting you from hospital tomorrow?’ I asked.

‘No one. I’ll get a cab here.’

‘I can come and collect you,’ I offered.

‘That’s nice of you, but I’ll be fine, and I don’t know what time I’ll be discharged.’

‘You could phone me when you know and I’d come straight over. The hospital isn’t far.’

She gave a small shrug. ‘Thanks. I’ll see how it goes.’ And I knew that given her comment about being self-sufficient she’d have to be feeling very poorly before she took up my offer of help.

Toscha had sauntered off and the children were now playing with the toys I’d set out. It was after six-thirty and at some point Shelley would have to say goodbye to Darrel and leave, which would be difficult for them both. The sooner we got it over with the better, and then I could settle Darrel before he went to bed.

‘I’ll show you around the house before you go,’ I said to Shelley.

Her forehead creased and she looked very anxious again. ‘I was thinking, if you don’t mind, is it possible for me to stay and put Darrel to bed? Once he’s asleep I’d go, and he wouldn’t be upset.’

Each fostering situation is different, and foster carers have to be adaptable to accommodate the needs of the child (or children) they are looking after, and also often the parents too. There was no reason why she couldn’t stay.

‘Yes, that’s fine with me,’ I said. ‘But we will need to explain to Darrel what is happening. Otherwise he’ll wake up in the morning expecting to find you here, and be upset when you’re not.’

‘Darrel, love,’ Shelley said, leaving her chair and going over to kneel on the floor beside him, ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

He stopped playing and looked at her, wide-eyed with expectation and concern.

‘It’s nothing for you to worry about,’ she reassured him. ‘But you remember I explained how you would be sleeping here for one night while I went into hospital?’

Darrel gave a small nod.

‘Well, I am not going to leave you until after you are asleep. Then, in the morning when you wake up, Cathy will be here to look after you until I come back. I’ll be back as soon as I can tomorrow. All right, pet?’

‘Yes, Mummy,’ he said quietly.

‘Good boy.’ She kissed his cheek.

I thought Shelley had phrased it well, and at three years of age Darrel would have some understanding of ‘tomorrow’.

‘Shall we have a look around the house now?’ I suggested. ‘You can see where you will be sleeping,’ I said to Darrel.

‘Yes, please,’ Shelley said enthusiastically, standing. Darrel stood, too, and held her hand. He looked at Adrian and Paula, now his friends.

‘Yes, they will come too,’ I said. They usually liked to join in the tour of the house I gave each child when they first arrived, although obviously there was no need, as they lived here. ‘This is the living room,’ I began. ‘And through here is the kitchen and our dining table where we eat.’

As we went into the kitchen Darrel exclaimed, ‘There’s the cat’s food!’ and pointed to Toscha’s feeding bowl.

‘That’s right,’ I said, pleased he was thawing out a little. ‘It’s empty now because Toscha has had her dinner.’

‘I’ve had my dinner,’ Darrel said.

‘I know. Your mummy told me. What did you have? Can you remember?’

‘Stew,’ he said. ‘With dumplings.’

‘Very nice. Did you eat it all up?’

‘Yes.’

‘He’s a good eater,’ Shelley said. ‘He’s likes my bean stew. I learned to make it from a recipe book. I put in lots of vegetables and he eats it all.’

‘Very good,’ I said, impressed, and thinking I should make stew and dumplings more often.

We went down the hall and into the front room. Given that Darrel was only young and here for one night, I didn’t go into detail about what we used the rooms for; I was just showing him around so he was familiar with the layout of the house and would hopefully feel more at home.

‘We’ll bring the bags up later,’ I said as I led the way upstairs. We went round the landing to Darrel’s room.

‘It’s not like my room at home,’ he said, slightly disappointed as we went in.

I smiled. ‘I’m sure your bedroom at home is fantastic, and it’ll have all your things in it, but this will be fine for tonight.’

‘Yes, thank you, Cathy,’ Shelley said, frowning at Darrel. ‘It’s very nice.’

I then briefly showed them the other rooms upstairs, including the toilet and bathroom where the step stools were already in place. I made a point of showing Darrel where I slept so that if he woke in the night he knew where to find me. It helped to reassure the child (and their parents), although in truth I was a light sleeper and always heard a child if they were out of bed or called out in the night.

‘Thank you very much, Cathy,’ Shelley said, and we began downstairs.

We returned to the living room and the children played with the toys again. Shelley sat on the floor with them and joined in, childlike and enthusiastic in her play. She carefully arranged the toy cars and play-people in the garage and sat the attendant behind the cash desk. I thought that, like many children from neglected and abusive backgrounds, she’d probably missed out on her childhood and had grown up fast to survive. After a while she left the children to finish their game and joined me on the sofa. I took the opportunity to explain to her that I would have to take Darrel with me to school in the morning when I took Adrian. I said that if he couldn’t manage the walk there and back I had a double stroller I could use.

‘He’ll be fine walking,’ Shelley said. ‘It’s not far, and he walks everywhere with me. I don’t have a car and I sold his stroller six months ago as I needed the money.’ I appreciated it must be difficult for her financially, bringing up a child alone.

It was nearly seven o’clock and I said I usually took Paula up for her bath and bed about this time.

‘It’s nearly Darrel’s bedtime too,’ Shelley said. ‘Can I give him his drink of warm milk now?’

‘Yes, of course. I’ll show you where everything is in the kitchen.’

Leaving the children playing I took Shelley into the kitchen, showed her around and then left her to warm Darrel’s milk, while I took Paula upstairs to get ready for bed.

‘Baby bed?’ Paula asked.

‘Darrel will be going to bed soon,’ I said, guessing that was what she meant. My reply seemed to satisfy her, for she chuckled.

I gave Paula a quick bath, put her in a clean nappy and then, after lots of hugs and kisses, tucked her into her cot bed. ‘Night, love,’ I said, kissing her soft, warm cheek one last time. ‘Sleep tight and see you in the morning.’

Paula grinned, showing her relatively new front teeth, and I kissed her some more. I said ‘Night-night’ again and finally came out, leaving her bedroom door slightly open so I could hear her if she didn’t settle or woke in the night, although she usually slept through now.

Downstairs Darrel had had his milk and Shelley was in the kitchen, washing up his mug while Darrel played with Adrian in the living room. Shelley looked quite at home in the kitchen and I asked her if she’d like a cup of tea, but she said she’d like to get Darrel to bed first. We went into the living room where she told Darrel it was time for bed. ‘Say goodnight to Adrian,’ she said.

‘Goodnight,’ Darrel said politely, and kissed Adrian’s cheek. Adrian looked slightly embarrassed at having a boy kiss him, but of course Darrel was only three.

‘I’m sorry,’ Shelley said, seeing Adrian’s discomfort. ‘He always kisses me when we say goodnight.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘As Mrs Clause says in Santa Clause: The Movie, “If you give extra kisses, you get bigger hugs!”’

‘That’s lovely,’ Shelley said, clasping her hands together in delight. ‘I’ll have to remember that – “If you give extra kisses, you get bigger hugs!”’

Adrian grinned; he loved that Christmas movie and the saying, as I did.

Shelley and I carried the holdalls upstairs and into Darrel’s room, with Darrel following. Having checked she had everything she needed, I left Shelley to get Darrel ready for bed and went downstairs. I’d got into the routine of putting Paula to bed first and then spending some time with Adrian. He usually read his school book, then we’d play a game or just chat, and then I’d read him a bedtime story and take him up to bed. It was our time together, set aside from the hustle and bustle of him having a younger sister and fostering. Now, as I sat on the sofa with my arm around him, we could hear Shelley moving around upstairs while she saw to Darrel.

‘It’s strange having another mummy in the house,’ Adrian said.

‘Yes, it is,’ I agreed. ‘But it’s rather nice.’ It was touching and reassuring to hear another mother patiently and lovingly tending to the needs of her child.

Once I’d finished reading Adrian his bedtime story, he put the book back on the shelf and then went over to say goodnight to Toscha as he did every night. She was curled on her favourite chair and he gently kissed the top of her furry head once and then twice. ‘Remember, Toscha,’ he said. ‘“If you give extra kisses, you get bigger hugs!”’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Although I’d be very surprised if she got up and hugged you.’ Adrian laughed loudly.

‘Mum, you are silly sometimes.’

We went upstairs and while Adrian went to the toilet I checked on Paula. She was fast asleep, flat on her back, with her arms and legs spread out like a little snow angel. I kissed her forehead and crept out, again leaving her door slightly open. Shelley was in Darrel’s room now and through their open door I could hear her telling him that she would only go once he was asleep, and then she’d come back for him as soon as possible the next day. There was anxiety in her voice again, and I hoped it wouldn’t unsettle Darrel, for it could take hours before he went to sleep.

I ran Adrian’s bath and waited while he washed – even at his age I didn’t leave him unattended in the bath for long. I also washed his back, which he often forgot about. Once he was out, dried and dressed in his pyjamas, I went with him to his room. Following our usual routine, he switched on his lamp and I switched off the main light, then I sat on his bed while he snuggled down and settled ready for sleep. He often remembered something he had to tell me at this time that couldn’t wait until the morning. Sometimes it was a worry he’d been harbouring during the day, but more often it was just a general chat – a young, active boy delaying the time when he had to go to sleep. But tonight we heard Shelley talking quietly to Darrel in the room next door.

‘Will Darrel still be here when I come home from school tomorrow?’ Adrian asked.

‘I don’t think so. His mother is hoping to collect him in the early afternoon.’

‘He’s nice, isn’t he?’ Adrian said.

‘Yes, he’s a lovely little boy, just like you.’

Adrian smiled and I stroked his forehead. ‘Time for sleep,’ I said.

Then we both stopped and looked at each other in the half-light as the most beautiful, angelic voice floated in from Darrel’s room. Shelley was singing him a lullaby and her soft, gentle voice caressed the air, pitch perfect and as tender and innocent as a newborn baby – it sent shivers down my spine. First Brahms’s ‘Lullaby’ and then ‘All Through the Night’:

‘Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee,

All through the night,

Guardian angels God will send thee,

All through the night …’

By the time she’d finished my eyes had filled and I swallowed the lump in my throat. It was the most beautiful, soulful singing I’d ever heard, and I felt enriched for having been part of it.