Читать книгу The Night the Angels Came - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 6

Chapter One It’s a Cruel World

‘Cathy,’ Jill said quietly, ‘I need to ask you something, and you must feel you can say no.’ ‘Sure, go ahead, Jill. I’m good at saying no,’ I returned light-heartedly.

Jill gave a small laugh but I now realized she sounded subdued – not her usual cheerful self. Jill is my support social worker from Homefinders, the agency I foster for, and we get on very well.

‘Cathy,’ she continued, ‘we need a foster home for a little boy called Michael. He’s just eight. He has been looked after by his father for the last six years since his mother died when Michael was just two.’ Jill paused, as though steeling herself for something she had to tell me, and I assumed it would be that the child had been badly neglected or abused, or that the father had a new partner and no longer wanted the child. I’d answered the telephone in the sitting room and I now sat on the sofa, ready to hear the details of the little boy’s suffering, which would still shock me even after hearing many similar stories in the nine years I’d been fostering. However, what Jill told me shocked me in an entirely different way.

‘Cathy,’ Jill said sombrely, ‘Michael’s father, Patrick, is dying. He has contacted the social services and asked if a carer can be found to look after Michael when he’s no longer able to.’ ‘

Jill paused and waited for my reaction. I didn’t know what to say. ‘Oh, I see,’ I said lamely, as images and thoughts flashed through my mind and I grappled with the implications of what Jill was telling me.

‘Patrick loves his son deeply,’ Jill continued, ‘and he has brought him up very well. Patrick has been battling against cancer for two years but the chemo has been stopped now and he’s on palliative care only. He’s very thin and weak, and realizes it won’t be long before he has to go into a hospital or hospice. He has asked if Michael can get to know his carer before he goes to live with them when Patrick has to go into hospital.’

‘I see,’ I said again, quietly. ‘How very, very sad. And there’s no one in Michael’s extended family who can look after him?’ Which is usually considered the next best option for a child whose parents can’t look after them, and what would have happened in my family if anything had happened to me.

‘Apparently not,’ Jill said. ‘Both sets of grandparents are deceased and Patrick is an only child. There’s an aunt who lives in Wales but Patrick has told the social worker they weren’t close. She hasn’t seen Michael since he was a baby and Patrick doesn’t think she will want to look after him. The social services will obviously be making more enquiries about the extended family – Patrick originally came from Ireland. But that will take time, and Patrick doesn’t have much time.’

‘How long does he have?’ I said, hardly daring to ask.

‘The doctors have given him about three months.’

I fell silent and Jill was quiet too. It was one of the saddest reasons for a child coming into foster care I’d ever heard of. ‘Does Michael know how ill his father is?’ I asked at length.

‘I’m not sure. He certainly knows his dad is very ill but I don’t know if it’s been explained to him that he’s dying. I’ll need to find out and also what counselling has been offered. Obviously, Cathy, this is a huge undertaking and I’m well aware of the commitment and emotional drain on you and your family if you agree to go ahead. Not many would want to take this on. It’s bad enough if someone you know dies, but you don’t go looking for bereavement.’ She gave a small dry laugh.

I was silent again and I gazed through the French windows at the garden, which was now awash with spring flowers. Bright yellow daffodils mingled with blue and white hyacinths against a backdrop of fresh green grass. It seemed a cruel irony that as nature was bursting into life for another year so a life was slowly ending. And while I didn’t know Michael or his father, my heart was already going out to them, especially that poor little boy who was about to lose his father and be left completely alone in the world.

‘What we’re looking for,’ Jill clarified, ‘is a carer who will get to know Michael while his father is still able to look after him, then foster him when his father goes into hospital or a hospice. Obviously if a relative isn’t found who can give Michael a permanent home then we will need a long-term foster placement, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. His father has said he would like to meet the carer first, without Michael present, to discuss his son’s needs, routine, likes and dislikes, which is sensible. The social worker will set up that meeting straight away.’

‘Jill,’ I said, stopping her from going any further, ‘I need to think about this. I mean it’s not straightforward fostering, is it? Apart from the huge emotional commitment I’m also mindful that Adrian and Paula are still coming to come to terms with their father leaving us last year. I’m not sure I can put them through this now. Adrian is the same age as Michael and sensitive; he’s bound to feel Michael’s loss personally. I don’t think I have the right to upset my family more.’

‘I completely understand,’ Jill said. ‘I wasn’t even sure I should ask you.’ At that moment I felt like saying: ‘I wish you hadn’t’, because now I knew about Michael and his father I felt I had a responsibility towards them and I knew it was going to be difficult for me to say no.

‘When do you want my answer by?’ I asked Jill.

‘Tomorrow, please. Can you sleep on it and let me know?’

‘Yes, I will. I don’t know whether I should discuss it with Adrian and Paula. Paula is only four: she doesn’t understand about dying.’

‘Do any of us?’ Jill said quietly. And I remembered she’d lost her own brother the year before.

‘It can be a cruel world sometimes,’ I said. ‘Let me think about it, Jill, and I’ll get back to you.’

‘Thanks, Cathy. Sorry if I’ve placed you in an awkward position. I know it’s difficult.’

We said goodbye and I hung up. I stayed where I was on the sofa and stared unseeing across the room. I thought of Patrick raising his little boy alone after his wife’s death and the strong bond that would have resulted from there being just the two of them. I could imagine the terror Patrick must have felt when the doctors told him he had cancer; it’s a single parent’s worst nightmare – the prospect of leaving your child orphaned. I marvelled at the courage and strength Patrick must have shown in dealing with the gruelling chemotherapy while looking after Michael. How he’d found the inner resources to come to terms with his dying and concentrate on making arrangements to have his son looked after when he was no longer able to I didn’t know. What incredible courage, what sadness. I wouldn’t have done so well, I was sure. But could I help Michael and his father? Did I have the right to bring all their sadness into my house? Did I want to? At that moment I knew I didn’t. Standing, I wiped a tear from my eye, and left the room to busy myself with some housework to take my mind off the great sadness I had just heard.