Читать книгу Can I Let You Go?: Part 3 of 3: A heartbreaking true story of love, loss and moving on - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 6

To begin with I thought Faye might be worried or preoccupied by the review on Monday afternoon, for that morning she was confused and very forgetful. Her movements were lethargic and slower than usual and she forgot the most basic things, like brushing her hair, cleaning her teeth and which cupboard the cereal was in. She always poured her own cereal for breakfast and the box was in the cupboard where it had always been. She even forgot where Snuggles was, and I found him on her bed where he normally sat when he wasn’t with her.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked her eventually.

She smiled and nodded.

‘Is anything wrong?’

‘I’m just having an off day. That’s what Gran calls it. I’m not ill.’

‘OK. And you’re not worrying about anything?’

‘No.’

I’d noticed before that sometimes, for no obvious reason, Faye had days when she was disorientated and disengaged from what was going on around her. I’d put it down to living in a new house with people she wasn’t completely familiar with, but now it seemed it had been happening before she’d come to live with me. Around mid-morning Faye asked if we could make up some more bottles of baby milk and I agreed. Everyone else was out and her review wasn’t until two o’clock. I should have realized that if Faye was having an ‘off day’ she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on what, for her, was a complicated task. It soon became clear that not only had Faye forgotten everything we’d covered on Saturday, but she also seemed to be struggling with basic common sense.

I arranged everything she would need, including the instruction sheets, on the work surface and then told her to run the hot water and add a squirt of washing-up liquid to wash the bottles. She did this and then just stood there, hands immersed in the soapy water, looking at the bottles on the drainer.

‘Put the first bottle into the water,’ I prompted. ‘Use the bottle brush to clean it well and then rinse it.’

Faye hesitated again as though she was processing what I’d said before she took the first bottle and began to clean it slowly. I prompted her to rinse it and then move on to the next. It took her fifteen minutes to wash all four bottles. While she was working I busied myself in the kitchen, though still keeping an eye on her. Having washed and rinsed the bottles, she had no idea what to do next, and even with me reading the instructions from the sheet she’d completely forgotten that we had to use the sterilizer and why. I explained again, repeating everything I’d told her before, and finally helped her to sterilize the bottles, as I didn’t want her to become disheartened. Now she was ready to do the bit she liked best – making up the feeds. But when she added the first scoop of milk powder to the bottle it caught on the rim and half of it flicked onto the work surface and floor. She was going to scoop it up and use it!

‘Faye, you can’t do that,’ I said, concerned. ‘It’ll have germs in it. If that happens, clean up what you’ve spilt, tip the contents of the bottle away and start again.’

‘But some of it went in the bottle.’

‘Yes, but you don’t know how much. The milk needs to be made up to the correct strength. And you never use what you’ve spilt.’

She looked deep in thought for a moment and then stepped away from the kitchen cabinet. ‘I think it’s better if I don’t do any more today,’ she said. ‘When I have an off day Gran tells me to take it easy, so I sit with Snuggles.’

‘OK, love,’ I said. ‘No worries. We’ll do it again another day.’

All very well, but what would happen if Faye had an ‘off day’ when she had the baby? It would still need feeding, changing and looking after. I would have to explain this to her when she was more receptive.

Faye wasn’t upset or fazed by having an ‘off day’ and sat happily on the sofa in the living room with Snuggles on her lap, taking it easy for the rest of the morning, as her gran had advised, which essentially meant doing nothing but staring into space. She told Snuggles she was having an off day, and then said it again while we were eating lunch, although having an off day thankfully didn’t seem to affect Faye’s appetite. She reminded Snuggles again that she was having an off day as he sat on her lap in the car and I drove to her grandparents’ flat for the review. I guessed it was a term Wilma used and it had stuck.

Becky answered the door, saving Stan and Wilma the trouble, and Faye told her straight away she was having an off day.

‘Are you, love?’ Becky said, apparently unaware of what this meant.

Once in the living room Faye told her grandparents, even before she’d kissed them, that she was having one of her off days.

‘Never mind,’ Wilma said. ‘Sit yourself down and take it easy.’ Which Faye did, sitting heavily on the sofa beside her.

Wilma, Stan and I all said a polite hello and I sat on the chair Becky had drawn up for me so that we formed a small circle. Faye tucked Snuggles in between her and Wilma and folded her hands in her lap in a mirror image of her gran. I thought Stan and Wilma both looked tired and drawn, which was hardly surprising, considering how worried they must be by Faye’s change of mind. The atmosphere was polite but strained, as it had been the last time I’d met them.

‘Well, we all know each other,’ Becky began, sitting with a notepad and pen on her lap. ‘So there’s no need for us to introduce ourselves.’ She smiled convivially. ‘It’ll only be a short, informal meeting. I need to run through what’s happening as the short-term plans for Faye have changed. I’ll make a few notes as we go along. Faye, if you have any questions or there is anything you don’t understand then please stop me.’

‘You always say that to me,’ Faye said, and I smiled.

‘As we are aware,’ Becky said, ‘Faye has made it known that she would like to try to look after her baby and the social services have found her a place at –’ She named the specialist mother-and-baby unit. ‘We feel this is appropriate, and Faye can stay there for up to six months. I’m aware of the travelling issues for you,’ she said, addressing Wilma and Stan. ‘I’m looking into what transport help we can offer so you can visit Faye at the home.’

Wilma gave a stiff nod.

‘While Faye is staying at the mother-and-baby home,’ Becky said, ‘she will be well supported and taught parenting techniques as well as being observed.’

‘Cathy is teaching me now,’ Faye put in.

‘Yes, I know, that’s good,’ Becky said. ‘And the home will build on that learning. During her time at the home Faye will also be monitored, leading to an assessment at the end, which will give us a clearer picture of what the next step should be. I shall also be visiting her.’

As Becky continued to talk I glanced at Wilma and Stan. Both were concentrating on Becky, their expressions neutral. Like me, they already knew how the care plan had changed, but this review was procedural and used to clarify any points and address questions that Faye or her grandparents might have. It was a lot less formal than the reviews I attended for the children I fostered, which were usually held in my house. Children in care have regular reviews, which the child’s parent(s), social worker, teacher, foster carer, the foster carer’s support social worker and any other adults closely connected with the child all attend. The meeting is chaired and minuted by an independent reviewing officer and usually lasts an hour.

‘So, that’s the plan at present,’ Becky said, rounding off. ‘Does anyone have any questions?’

‘Only what we’ve already raised,’ Stan said. ‘What’s going to happen at the end of the six months?’

‘We don’t know yet,’ Becky said. ‘We’ll have to wait for the outcome of the assessment.’

‘No. I mean, what if Faye’s allowed to keep –’ He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘the baby’, but used the northern term ‘bairn’ instead.

‘We’re looking into various options that could offer the support Faye would need – supported lodgings or a semi-independence unit,’ Becky said. ‘Although I’m afraid they are all out of the immediate area.’

‘But I’m right in saying that none of them are long term?’ Stan said, so I assumed this issue had been discussed before.

‘That’s right,’ Becky said with a small nod. ‘The maximum stay is two years.’ I heard Wilma sigh. ‘But that’s a long time ahead,’ Becky continued, ‘and it might be felt by then that Faye has the necessary skills to live independently.’

Another small sigh escaped Wilma’s lips, but neither she nor Stan commented further.

‘Cathy,’ Becky said, turning to me. ‘I know you see Wilma and Stan regularly when you bring Faye and collect her, but perhaps you’d like to give us an update and say a few words on how Faye is doing with you now.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Foster carers are usually asked to speak at a child’s or young person’s review, so this wasn’t unexpected. ‘Faye’s antenatal checks are now every two weeks until she is full term,’ I began. ‘At these check-ups Faye is weighed and measured by the midwife and her blood pressure and urine are checked. She also listens to the baby’s heartbeat. Both Faye and the baby are doing well. There are no medical concerns. I’ve noticed Faye is becoming more tired, especially in the evening, but that’s to be expected at this stage in the pregnancy. Her last blood test showed that her iron levels were normal and they will be checked again at her next appointment. Faye seems to be coping well with all the changes and is generally very happy.’

‘She’s always happy,’ Stan said.

‘Because she doesn’t see the problems as we do,’ Wilma added.

Becky nodded and I continued. ‘Faye gets on well with my family, and joins us on days out. She decided she didn’t want to continue going to the day centre, and because she can’t go to the stables I’ve been taking her to see some horses in a field, which she enjoys.’ Stan and Wilma both nodded. ‘Faye has established a good morning routine, which I believe is similar to the one she has here. She also has an evening routine, which includes a bath and watching her favourite television programmes. I’ve started teaching Faye the basics of parenting: how to hold a baby, lay it in the crib, feed it and so on.’

‘That reminds me,’ Becky said. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t had any luck finding one of those electronic baby dolls you asked for. I’m still searching.’

Wilma and Stan looked puzzled and Becky explained what an electronic baby-simulator doll was.

‘I’m using an ordinary doll to practise on,’ I said to Wilma and Stan. They nodded, although Wilma looked sceptical.

‘And Faye’s managing to learn the skills you’re teaching her?’ Becky asked.

Faye was looking at me. ‘Yes, slowly, but we’ve only just started. Faye did well on Saturday when we began to practise making up bottles of milk. We didn’t do much this morning, though.’

‘Because I’m having an off day,’ Faye told her gran again.

‘I see,’ Becky said, making a note. ‘What does having an off day mean exactly?’

‘She forgets everything she’s supposed to do,’ Wilma said, not unkindly. ‘It was investigated when she was a child. Epilepsy was suggested but nothing was found.’

‘How long does it last?’ Becky asked. ‘Minutes? Hours?’

‘Most of the day,’ Wilma said. ‘Then she goes to sleep and she’s as right as rain in the morning, unless she’s sickening for something. Do you feel unwell?’ she now asked Faye.

‘No. I’m just having an off day,’ Faye replied.

Becky finished writing and I continued by saying that I’d booked a place for Faye to attend the last two antenatal classes and that I would be going with her. I gave the dates and also the date when we would be looking round the maternity ward at the hospital. Becky made a note. I said that after discussion with Becky I’d taken Faye shopping for the essential items like nappies, babygrows and vests, and I finished by saying that we’d packed her bag for the hospital. ‘In plenty of time, so we’re ready.’

Becky looked up from her notepad. ‘Thank you, Cathy. That’s helpful.’ Then, looking mainly at Wilma, she asked, ‘Are we still in agreement that Cathy should be Faye’s birthing partner?’

There was silence. I looked from Wilma to Stan; clearly they knew something we didn’t. It was Wilma who spoke: ‘We think Cathy should go with Faye to the hospital when the time comes, but I’d like her to phone me as soon as they arrive. It takes me a long time to get ready, especially if it’s at night and I have to get dressed, and I’ll need to call a cab. But I feel I should be there for Faye if possible. We’ve brought her up and I’ve been her mother.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, pleased. ‘I’ll phone you as soon as Faye goes into labour.’ Becky looked pleased too, for this shift in Wilma and Stan’s attitude – their greater acceptance of the baby – was positive and might pave the way for offering the support that could help Faye keep her baby long term.

‘That sounds good to me,’ Becky said. Then, looking at Faye, she asked, ‘What do you think? Would you like your gran and Cathy to be with you when you go to hospital to have your baby?’

‘Yes, and Snuggles,’ Faye said, smiling.

‘Of course Snuggles must go,’ Stan laughed kindly, and the atmosphere improved.

Becky then spent a few minutes explaining to Wilma and Stan about the adjustments that would be made to Faye’s state benefit, and how to claim a maternity grant for her. Then, with nothing more to discuss and no further questions from us, she wound up the meeting. She thanked me for coming and then wished Faye luck in case she didn’t see her again before the birth, and said she would see her afterwards. Stan and Wilma confirmed that they’d see Faye the day after tomorrow and then, saying goodbye, Faye and I left, followed by Becky. We all waited for the elevator together.

‘It sounds as though you’re doing very well,’ Becky said to Faye with a smile.

‘Yes, I am,’ Faye said. ‘Can I keep my baby?’ She asked it with a child’s naïve innocence, and Becky looked uncomfortable.

‘You’ll have your baby with you in the mother-and-baby home,’ she said. ‘Then we will work out what is best for your baby in the long term.’ Which is what Becky had explained to Faye before, but it seemed to satisfy her for now.

As we left the building and said goodbye, Becky again wished Faye good luck and then we went to our respective cars.

Once home Faye wanted to look through the contents of her hospital bag, I think because I’d mentioned it at the review. I lifted it down from where I’d stowed it on top of her wardrobe, and placed it on the bed. She sat beside it and began going through, admiring all the new things we’d bought for her baby. I left her to it but looked in on her a couple of times. She was in her element, unpacking and repacking the contents and pretending she was going on holiday. I told her to make sure she returned everything to the bag when she’d finished, but again the incongruity of seeing a heavily pregnant woman playing like a child struck me. She had a lot of growing up to do to become a responsible parent, and in a very short space of time.

Wilma’s assurance that after a night’s sleep Faye’s ‘off day’ would go and she’d be ‘as right as rain’ proved correct. The following morning Faye was up at her usual time and fell into her routine, albeit slowly, but then Faye did everything slowly, as though all tasks required her full and equal concentration. She remembered where the cereal for breakfast was kept without a problem, and after breakfast she knew she had to dress, wash and brush her teeth. Once ready she wanted to make up some more bottles and I took everything we needed from the cupboards and set it on the work surface with the instruction sheets. An hour later, and with a lot of help from me, she’d successfully washed and sterilized four bottles, and had made up the formula milk. I praised her.

That afternoon we went to see the horses, as we hadn’t been for a while. It was cold – there’d been a frost that morning – so we didn’t stay long. But judging from the way the horses and ponies galloped across the field as soon as we approached the fence, they were as pleased to see Faye as she was to see them. She petted and stroked them with her gloved hands and remembered some of the names she’d given them. They whinnied and snorted appreciatively, their warm breath fogging in the cold air. Since the change in the care plan Faye had stopped counting down the number of sleeps to when she could return to the stables. She understood that, as she’d be living out of the area and looking after her baby, going to the stables wouldn’t be practical, and neither would going to the day centre.

The following day, after I’d taken Faye to her grandparents, I continued into town to do some Christmas shopping. I knew what Adrian, Lucy and Paula wanted – they’d dropped hints – and I’d decided to buy Faye a camera. She didn’t own one and her phone was too basic to have one included. I thought that like all parents she’d want to take lots of photographs of her baby, so it seemed an ideal present. I wanted a camera that was easy to hold and use, but that took good photographs. I went to the large electrical store in the shopping centre where a helpful assistant showed me a range of cameras that matched my criteria and were within budget, and I found exactly what I was looking for. From there I went to the maternity and baby store I’d previously shopped in with Faye. It was bursting with Christmas gift ideas and, taking a basket, I headed for the display marked ‘Baby’s First Christmas’.

I was like a kid in a candy store as I filled the basket. So many gorgeous gifts, it was difficult to choose. I began by placing a bright-red Santa sack into my basket. It had a large motif on the front showing a jolly, smiling Santa and the words ‘My First Christmas’. Then I chose a rattle, an outfit with pictures of reindeer on it, a bib with a snow scene on the front, a photograph album for baby’s first year, a velvet-soft cuddly toy, and so on. Eventually I had to drag myself away. As I stood in the queue to pay I pictured the look of delight on Faye’s face as she hung the Santa sack on the end of her baby’s crib on Christmas Eve, and then the following morning as she opened the presents for her baby. If the baby arrived on time it would be two weeks old on Christmas Day. I also imagined her delight when she opened her own presents and could begin to take photographs of her baby.

Leaving this shop, I went to the department store, where I bought presents for family and friends from my list, some stocking fillers and a Santa sack for Faye. Adrian, Paula and Lucy still had their sacks from when they were little, and despite being young adults now they still liked to find them by their beds on Christmas morning. In recent years I’d found a Santa sack bedside my bed too, containing perfume, bath oil and chocolates. I wonder how Santa knew they were my favourites! I planned to take Faye’s and her baby’s presents to the mother-and-baby unit a day or so before Christmas.

I left the shopping centre, laden with bags and parcels, with that warm feeling that comes from knowing you are going to make the people you love and care for very happy. Although it was true that thoughts of Christmas this year were tinged with the sad knowledge that it would be the first without my father, I was still looking forward to it. I intended to ask Mum what she wanted to do on the day itself. In the past she and Dad, and my brother and his family, had all come to me for Christmas Day. It was possible that this year she might want to do something different, which might include visiting Dad’s grave. I needed to discuss the arrangements with her, but I was putting it off, for once I’d had that conversation I’d have to accept that future Christmases would never be the same again. There would always be someone missing, which made me sad.