by Cathy Glass
‘How is he?’ I asked the nurse, as Michael still clung to me. ‘Comfortable. We’ve given him something for the pain. He’ll sleep for a while.’
‘And his blood-cell count?’ I asked. ‘Are you going to give him a blood transfusion? That’s what he had last time.’ For I’d noticed that the bag on the drip stand contained clear fluid, not blood.
‘We’re running tests,’ the nurse said. ‘We’ll notify his social worker and family when we know more.’
I realized she was politely telling me that as I wasn’t a relative confidentiality forbade her from discussing Patrick’s medical condition with me.
‘Patrick doesn’t have family apart from Michael and a distant aunt,’ I said, unsure if they knew.
She nodded. ‘We have Mr and Mrs Doyle listed as next of kin. Colleen has been informed that Patrick has been admitted to hospital and she is bringing his night things later.’
‘So Patrick has to stay in just for tonight?’ I asked, wanting to know as much as possible so that Id reassure Michael.
‘We’ll know more tomorrow when the test results are back,’ she said a little stiffly, and held the curtain open for Michael and me to leave.
I looked again at Patrick. The jacket to his suit was draped over the back of the chair on which Michael had sat. There was a dusty scuff mark on the jacket sleeve, presumably from where he’d collapsed on the pavement. It seemed ridiculous that I should notice that when Patrick was so ill, but he was always so smartly dressed that the mark seemed to undermine his pride and dignity.
‘Do you want to kiss your dad goodbye before we go?’ I asked Michael, who still had his arms around my waist, holding tight.
I felt his arms loosen and he slowly raised his tear-stained face and nodded. Together we took the few steps to the bed and I stood beside Michael as he bent forward and kissed his dad on the forehead. ‘Get better soon, Dad,’ Michael said quietly. ‘I’ll say my prayers very well tonight, I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t say them properly in church but I’ll make up for it tonight.’ I felt a lump rise in my throat and my eyes mist.
Michael gave his dad another kiss, but Patrick didn’t stir. His eyes remained closed and his mouth stayed slightly open under the transparent oxygen mask. As Michael stepped away from the bed, I went forward. Leaning over, I kissed Patrick’s forehead. His skin felt unnaturally cool and damp. ‘Get better soon,’ I whispered close to his ear. ‘I’ll take good care of Michael, so don’t worry.’ Straightening, I took Michael’s hand and led him away from the bed, past the nurse and out of the cubicle.
I could hardly see for the tears welling in my eyes as I crossed the treatment area with Michael beside me, holding my hand. Michael was quietly sniffing back tears and I saw a nurse we passed glance in our direction. I knew I had to be strong for Michael, but with no idea how ill Patrick was it was difficult to know what to say to reassure him.
‘Daddy’s being well looked after,’ I finally said, giving Michael’s hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘I’ll phone Colleen later and find out more.’
We went down the corridor, through the A & E waiting area and then out of the main doors. We crossed the car park in silence, but before we got in the car Michael paused and looked at me, his face pained. ‘I should have said my prayers better in church,’ he said, his face creasing, as though he was responsible for his father collapsing.
I stopped and, placing my hands on his shoulder, gently turned him towards me. ‘Michael, love, there is no way that not saying your prayers led to this. The God you believe in is good and kind. He wouldn’t punish a young boy by making his father ill because he didn’t say his prayers properly.’
Michael gave a small shrug and climbed into the back of the car. I got into the driver’s seat. I would reinforce what I’d said to Michael later – that there was no link between his lack of devotion in church and his father collapsing – for I knew how guilt could fester in a young mind without the objective reasoning that comes with adulthood. The other thought I had as I started the car and drove slowly across the car park was that none of the staff in the hospital had asked to see my ID. I’d walked in and declared I was Cathy Glass and had been allowed to take away a small child who wasn’t mine without anyone asking me to verify who I was. As a foster carer I’m obliged to carry ID whenever I am working with or responsible for children; the card was in my handbag. And while Michael had recognized me in the cubicle – presumably if he hadn’t the nurse wouldn’t have let him go with me – it would have been reassuring if someone – the receptionist or the nurse – had asked to see my ID when I’d first arrived or before I’d left.
Michael sat quietly in the rear of the car as I pulled out of the car park and joined the main road. I realized he hadn’t any of his belongings with him and while I could have found a change of clothes for him at home I didn’t have his school things for tomorrow. I knew Nora, his neighbour, had a key to Patrick’s house and although his house was a couple of miles in the opposite direction to mine I had plenty of time before Adrian and Paula returned home to go there and pick up what Michael needed. Having met Nora and Jack previously at Patrick’s, I felt reasonably comfortable about arriving unexpectedly and asking for their help.
‘Michael, are you all right, love?’ I asked, glancing at him in the interior mirror. He nodded. ‘Do you know if Nora is likely to be at home? I was thinking of stopping by and getting some of your things for tonight and tomorrow.’
‘She should be. Dad said we were going there for dinner after church.’
‘Oh, I see. I wonder if anyone at the hospital phoned Nora to tell her what happened?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Michael said.
Ten minutes later I pulled up outside Michael’s house, aware that I might have to break the news that Patrick had collapsed to Nora and Jack. It is often said by those who work in fostering that when you foster it isn’t just the child you look after and become involved with but the whole family. This is very true and often, as with Michael, the child’s social network spreads outside the family and includes family friends and neighbours.
Someone in Nora and Jack’s house must have seen us arrive, for as Michael and I got out of the car the front door to the house opened and Jack appeared on the doorstep.
‘Dad’s in hospital, Uncle Jack,’ Michael cried, leaving my side and rushing up their front path. Although Michael wasn’t related to Jack, like many young children, he referred to his father’s friends as Uncle and Aunt.
‘I know, lad,’ Jack said. ‘Your Auntie Colleen phoned a few minutes ago.’ Then looking at me, ‘How’s Pat doing? We’ll go and see him later.’
I had followed Michael up the path and Jack was now ushering me inside. ‘The nurse didn’t say much,’ I said. ‘Only that they’ve done some tests and would know more when the results come back in the morning. Dad was asleep, wasn’t he?’ I added positively, smiling at Michael.
Nora appeared in the hall, wearing an apron, ‘Hello, lovey,’ she said to Michael, spreading her arms wide for a hug. Michael went up and gave her a big hug, as he had done with Jack.
‘I was expecting the two of them for dinner,’ Nora said to m nu8;Then Colleen phoned to say Patrick was in hospital and you were on your way to collect Michael. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you a cup of tea?’
I appreciated Nora’s hospitality and didn’t want to appear rude, but I was mindful of the time. I didn’t know how long it would take to sort out Michael’s belongings and sometimes Adrian and Paula were returned home early.
‘That’s kind of you,’ I said, ‘but I really came to collect some of Michael things and then I need to be getting home.’
‘Of course,’ Nora said, not the least bit offended. ‘Jack, watch the dinner, please, while I take Cathy and Michael next door.’
Jack headed down the hall towards the kitchen while Nora took off her apron and then unhooked a set of keys from the key rack on the wall by the front door. I thanked Nora, and Michael and I follow
ed her out of the door, down her front-garden path and then up the garden path next door to Patrick’s and Michael’s house. Nora unlocked the front door, and then led the way in.
It was strange going into Patrick’s house without him being there. Previously when I’d visited – in the evenings – the house had always felt warm and inviting; now it was unnaturally quiet and there was an emptiness, a hollowness, as though the house had been abandoned. The Sunday newspaper lay folded on the hall table as if Patrick was about to return and pick it up. Patrick and Michael’s slippers, which they always wore in the house, were paired in the hall, and Michael automatically kicked off his shoes and pushed his feet into his slippers before going upstairs.
‘I know what I need to pack,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘We’ll be up in a minute to help,’ Nora called after him. ‘I’ll find you a case for your things.’
I followed Nora a little way down the hall and to the cupboard under the stairs. Opening the door, Nora switched on the light and as the cupboard illuminated I felt a pang of nostalgia at seeing Patrick’s possessions. Patrick clearly used his understairs cupboard much as I did – for storing items that were used occasionally or had sentimental value and he didn’t want to throw away. Among other things there was a 1950s standard lamp, a pretty but obsolete fireguard, a vacuum cleaner, an ironing board, a large china vase, an oil painting, various cardboard boxes, a suitcase and the holdall Michael had had his belongings in when he’d stayed with me before.
‘I think we’ll use this again.’ Nora said, reaching in and taking out the holdall. ‘If I send Michael with the big suitcase he’ll think he’s not coming home again.’
She set the holdall on the floor, turned and looked at me, and in that look I saw all her worries and fears about Patrick. ‘Pat will be coming home again, won’t he, Cathy?’ she asked, her brow furrowing.
‘Of course he will,’ I said without a second thought. ‘And soon. They’ll give him a blood transfusion like they did last time and he’ll be fine.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right,’ Nora said, recovering. ‘Jack and I will visit him later. Will you be taking Michael to visit this evening?’
I paused and thought. ‘I don’t think so, not tonight. I think I’ll wait until tomorrow when Patrick is feeling better. What do you think?’
‘Yes. Pat worries about the effect his illness is having on Michael. He wouldn’t want him seeing him poorly.’
‘No, so I’ll wait until tomorrow when he’s awake and talking. He might even be coming out of hospital then.’
Nora nodded. ‘Would you like me to phone you after we’ve seen him this evening? Then you can reassure Michael.’
‘Yes please. I’ll leave you my number before I go and it might be a good idea if I had your phone number too.’
‘Yes, of course.’
I picked up the holdall and followed Nora upstairs, past Patrick’s bedroom, where the door was now closed, and into Michael’s room. Michael was busy taking toys and games from the cupboard and placing them in a pile in the centre of the bed, ready to pack. ‘Adrian will like playing with this,’ he said, holding up a sophisticated Transformer action figure with vivid green flashing eyes. ‘And can I take my Scalextric?’ he asked me. I was pleased that the prospect of playing with Adrian was helping keep his mind off his father’s illness.
‘It’s fine with me,’ I said. ‘What do you think, Nora? Would Patrick be happy with the Scalextric leaving the house?’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she said. ‘Michael’s careful with his toys. ‘I’ll tell Patrick tonight you’ve taken it with you. But Michael,’ Nora said, looking at the growing pile of toys on the bed, ‘I think we need to be packing some of your clothes as well as your toys.’
‘Oh yes,’ Michael said, grinning.
‘I tell you what,’ Nora said to Michael. ‘you get out the Scalextric box and pack that while Cathy and I sort out your clothes.’
I followed Nora to the built-in wardrobe with the holdall as Michael delved under the bed and retrieved the original Scalextric box. While he sat on the floor dismantling his racing car set and carefully laying it in the box, Nora took Michael’s clothes from the wardrobe and handed them to me, and I folded and packed them into the holdall. Michael must have been watching us and noting how much we were packing, for when we’d put in two changes of school uniform, a couple of sets of casual clothes, and some pants and socks, he said: ‘That’s enough. I’ll be back soon.’
Nora and I agreed. She put his school shoes into a plastic carrier bag to stop them from dirtying his clothes and I tucked the bag into the holdall. Nora then went to the bathroom to fetch Michael’s flannel and toothbrush while I filled the rest of the holdall with the toys from the bed. I closed the zip. The bag was bulging and when Nora returned with Michael’s wash bag I tucked it into a side compartment.
‘School bag?’ I asked Michael.
‘Oh yes,’ he said. Delving under the bed again, he pulled out his school bag. I thought that Michael’s storage system appeared to be similar to Adrian’s, with most things being pushed out of sight under the bed.
With Michael carrying the boxed Scalextric, Nora the school bag and me the holdall, we went downstairs and stacked everything in the hall.
‘Which coat are you taking?’ Nora asked Michael. There were a number of coats and jackets hanging on the wooden coat rail in the hall.
Michael unhooked his school blazer and also a casual jacket.
‘I can’t think of anything else,’ Nora said, glancing round. ‘I’ll pop back later and check everything is switched off.’
Outside we packed the bags into my car and then returned briefly to Nora and Jack’s house to swap telephone numbers and say goodbye. Nora and Jack gave Michael a big hug and then did the same to me, which was sweet.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jack called to Michael as we got into the car. ‘Dad will be out soon, and we’ll all be round your place partying.’
Chapter Seventeen
Attached
On the way home from Patrick’s I explained to Michael that Adrian and Paula were out with their father and would be home at about five o’clock. It was now just after three o’clock, and Michael said he would use the time before they returned to set up his Scalextric and he asked which room he should put it in.
‘How about your bedroom?’ I suggested. ‘That’s where you have it at home and it will be safe there. Then Adrian and Paula can come into your room to play with it.’ Michael agreed. The Scalextric could have been set up downstairs but I thought it would make Michael feel more at home if he had it with him in his room; also, it would be less likely to be trodden on or damaged than downstairs in the living room.
Michael was quiet in the car for the rest of the journey and I regularly glanced at him in the interior mirror. He was gazing through his side window, deep in thought.
‘Nora will phone us this evening after she’s seen your dad,’ I reassured him.
‘Dad will want to phone and speak to me as soon as he can,’ Michael said. ‘He knows I worry when he falls over and doesn’t wake up.’
‘Does it happen often?’ I asked, concerned, glancing at him in the interior mirror.
Michael nodded. ‘Last week he fell over twice at home, but he woke up after a minute so I didn’t have to call an ambulance or get Nora or Jack.’
Again I was reminded of the huge responsibility Michael and other child carers carry for their disabled or sick parent, but I wondered why Patrick hadn’t mentioned he’d collapsed to me the week before, or gone to the hospital for tests. Perhaps he had seen a doctor but hadn’t wanted to worry me. Obviously Michael didn’t have the luxury of not knowing as he was living with and looking after his father. ‘The doctors will have your dad up and about very soon,’ I said.
Michael nodded and continued to gaz18;Drough the side window, deep in thought.
When we arrived home Michael helped me to unload the car and we carried his bags up to his room. He seemed m
ore relaxed and ‘at home’ compared with the first time he’d stayed. I guessed that was a result of all the time Patrick and I had spent together with the children: Michael was familiar with the house and knew me better. He was keen to set up his Scalextric straight away, so I suggested he did that while I made us something to eat, as neither of us had eaten since breakfast. He nodded, and leaving him unpacking his Scalextric I went downstairs and made a quick pasta bake for the two of us. Adrian and Paula usually ate with their father and just wanted a snack in the evening when they returned.
Michael and I ate together, and then when we’d finished he returned upstairs to put the finishing touches to his race track while I cleared away the dishes. I then went upstairs with the intention of seeing if I could persuade Michael to unpack some of his clothes. The last time he’d stayed he’d been reluctant to unpack his clothes, viewing it, I thought, as too permanent when he was hoping to go home as soon as possible. Now, however, as I entered his bedroom not only was the Scalextric nearly complete but his holdall was lying empty on the bed.
‘Have you unpacked?’ I asked, surprised.
Michael nodded. Leaving the Scalextric he opened the wardrobe door to show me.
‘Well done,’ I said. ‘Excellent. I’ll put your bag out of the way up here.’ I took the holdall from the bed and pushed it on top of the wardrobe, pleased that Michael had felt comfortable enough staying with us to unpack. ‘Adrian and Paula should be home in half an hour,’ I said. It was now 4.30.
Michael had returned to the Scalextric and was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his head lowered as if concentrating on the car he held, but he didn’t say anything.
‘I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,’ I added.
He nodded, but again didn’t reply.
I took the couple of steps to where he sat and squatted down beside him. ‘Michael?’ I said quietly, trying to see his face. ‘Are you all right, love?’
He looked up at me, his expression serious. ‘Do you think it’s OK if I play with my Scalextric while Dad’s in hospital?’ he asked anxiously.
