by Cathy Glass
She and Colleen stood to say goodbye as Eamon returned Colleen’s chair to the neighbour’s bed. ‘Thanks,’ Eamon said, and then gave the young man a handful of Patrick’s wrapped sweets, which we’d all been tucking into.
‘Cheers, mate,’ the young man said. ‘That’s nice of you.’ I felt sorry for him, having no visitors, and he looked very young to have a child of his own.
Nora and Colleen kissed Pat, and then Eamon and Jack shook his hand and hugged him. Pat was looking tired now, although his cheeks were flushed from talking and laughing, giving him a healthier glow.
‘You get some sleep now,’ Colleen said. ‘We’ll see you again over the weekend.’ The four of them then left with waves and calls of goodbye as Michael began saying goodbye. He hugged and kissed his dad and told him over and over again he missed him and he had to come home soon. I saw Patrick’s eyes well.
I said goodbye; leaning forward I kissed Patrick’s cheek and felt his arms around me, holding me tight. ‘Thanks for all you’re doing, love,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
I kissed his cheek again and slowly straightened. ‘Shall we come again tomorrow evening?’ I asked.
‘Yes please.’
‘I was thinking I might bring Adrian and Paula at the weekend,’ I added. ‘What do you think?’
He hesitated. ‘To be honest, Cathy, I’d rather you waited until I’m up and about. It won’t be much fun for them here. Do you mind?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Send them my love.’
‘I will.’
Michael hugged andd Cohis dad again and then I slowly drew him away from the bed. We walked down the centre aisle of the ward, stopping every so often to turn and wave. Patrick waved back. We gave a final wave as we went through the double doors and out of the ward.
‘All right?’ I asked Michael, touching his shoulder reassuringly.
He nodded. ‘Why do you think Dad doesn’t want Adrian and Paula to visit at the weekend?’ he asked thoughtfully.
‘Because he wants to wait until he’s feeling better.’
We continued along the corridor. Michael was quiet and then said, ‘I hope that’s the real reason.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, glancing at him, puzzled. ‘What other reason could there be?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s just not the sort of thing Dad would normally say.’
‘No, but he’s ill. I can understand why he wouldn’t feel up to it.’
But Michael was right: there was another reason his dad didn’t want Adrian and Paula to visit him, although I didn’t find out what it was until some time later, and when I did I was heartbroken.
Chapter Twenty-One
Support
It was after 8.30 p.m. by the time we arrived home and, leaving the bag of clothes Nora had packed in the hall, I sent Michael upstairs to wash and change, ready for bed, while I saw Jenny out. Jenny said Adrian and Paula had been fine during the evening and that Paula was asleep and Adrian was in bed reading. She asked me how Patrick was and I said he was weak but recovering. I then said, ‘Jenny, I know this is asking a lot but I’ve got a bit of a problem. Pat doesn’t feel up to having Adrian and Paula visit him, but he would like to see Michael again tomorrow. I won’t keep asking you, but is there any chance that you could sit for me again tomorrow evening? It would be the same time. I’ll understand if you can’t.’ I felt awful asking.
‘No problem,’ Jenny said easily. ‘Of course I’ll help you out. If Ben isn’t home in time I’ll bring the boys. It’s Friday, so a late night won’t hurt them.’
‘Thank you so much,’ I said. ‘I’m very grateful.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘You’re welcome.’
I thanked her again; we said goodnight and I saw her out. While I was relieved Jenny could help me out again the following evening, I knew I couldn’t keep asking her and I would need to make other arrangements, although quite what escaped me. I could ask Rose, but like Jenny she had children of her own, as did most of my other friends, so asking for regular babysitting when they should be with their families seemed an imposition; and not knowing how long Patrick would be in hospital made planning more difficult.
Taking the bag of Michael’s clothes upstairs, I left it on the landing and went into ’s room. She was on her side and sound asleep. With her small delicate features relaxed in sleep and her long fair hair spread out on the pillow behind her, she looked angelic. I stroked a few strands of hair away from her face and then kissed her cheek and crept out, leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar, as she liked it. Michael had finished in the bathroom and was just disappearing into his bedroom. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ I called as I went into Adrian’s room to say goodnight.
Adrian was propped on his pillows, reading by the light of his lamp. ‘Everything OK?’ I asked.
He nodded and glanced up from his book. ‘How’s Patrick?’
‘He’s doing all right. He sends his love. Finish the chapter and then I want you to go to sleep.’ Adrian loves reading and I was sure he would read all night if I let him.
I kissed Adrian goodnight and came out, closing his bedroom door, as he preferred, although I would check on him later to make sure he had switched off his lamp. Taking the bag of clothes Nora had sent, I went into Michael’s room. He was in bed, presumably having said his prayers, and was now lying on his back, gazing through the curtains at the darkening sky.
‘I’ll unpack these tomorrow,’ I said, placing the bag of clothes to one side, out of the way.
‘Cathy,’ Michael said, ‘how long do you think Dad will be in hospital?’
‘I’m not sure, love, but I think it will be at least a week,’ I said, perching on the edge of the bed.
‘I was thinking,’ Michael said. ‘If you, Adrian, Paula and Toscha came to live at my house, we could all help to look after dad and then he could come out of hospital sooner. Dad says you’d be a good nurse and I think so too.’
I smiled. ‘That’s nice of you to say. And I shall certainly be helping you and your dad when he leaves hospital. But for now your dad needs to be looked after by qualified doctors and nurses who know what medicine to give him.’
‘Or Dad and I could come here to live?’ Michael persisted. ‘We don’t have a cat, so it would be easier.’
I laid my hand lightly on his arm. ‘Michael, love, I don’t want you to worry. Your dad is being well looked after. He is in the best place, honestly. When he comes out of hospital he’ll want to go to home, and Nora, Jack, Colleen, Eamon and I will all help him. So please stop worrying. The adults will take care of him.’ Which seemed to reassure Michael. He yawned, turned on to his side and asked for a kiss goodnight. When I looked in on him ten minutes later he was asleep; so too was Adrian, having switched off the lamp.
I sent a note into school with Michael the following day, explaining that Michael hadn’t done his homework because he had been visiting his father in hospital and he would do it at the weekend. When I met Michael from school at the end of the day he handed me a folded note from his teacher. I read it as we walked to the car: Dear Mrs Glass, thank you for your letter. The head has made me aware of Michael’s father’s illness. Of course Michael can do his homework whenever he has the time. Kind regards, Jane Wilson. Michael had read the letter and said smartly: ‘Miss Wilson says I can do my homework any time. It doesn’t have to be this weekend.’
‘She says when you have the time,’ I corrected, ‘and you’ll have time this weekend.’
‘I might not,’ Michael said, bobbing along beside me. ‘I’ve got to see my dad.’
‘Of course you’ll see your dad,’ I said, ‘but you’ll still have time to do your homework. I’ll make sure of it.’
He pulled a face and then went quiet for a moment.
‘I’ll help you if it’s difficult,’ I added.
‘It’s not,’ he grumbled. ‘I just don’t want to do it.’
‘Your dad thinks school work is important and so do I,’ I said, and opened the car door.
Michael climbed in, scowling; he sulked for five minutes and was then over the grumps. He wasn’t a moody child but like most boys his age he’d rather have been playing than doing homework.
I sometimes find that when I have a problem to which I’m trying to find a solution, suddenly the answer appears and the problem is solved as if by magic. So it was with the problem of finding a sitter for Adrian and Paula while I took Michael to the hospital. I had Friday covered – Jenny was going to sit; and then driving home on Friday morning, having taken Paula to nursery, I hit upon the idea of asking my parents if they could sit on Saturday and then stay for dinner. They were due for a visit and Patrick had suggested that at the weekend Michael could visit in the afternoon session, 2.00–4.00, instead of the evening. Once home, I phoned Mum and put my suggestion to her; naturally she and Dad were happy to help and thanked me for the invitation to dinner. Then twenty minutes later the phone rang and it was Colleen. Having said hello and asked how we all were, she said: ‘I’ve just been talking to Nora about hospital visiting. We think it’s better if we take it in turns to visit Pat rather than all four of us go together. Pat looked very tired last night by the time we left. So Eamon and I are planning to visit on Sunday afternoon and Nora and Jack will go in the evening. I was wondering if it would help if we took Michael to the hospital on Sunday afternoon with us? Eamon and I usually go to church on Sunday morning, so we were thinking Michael could come with us to church, then we’d have some lunch and go on to the hospital for two o’clock. We could drop him off afterwards. What do you think?’
‘Well, yes, if you’re sure. That’s very nice of you.’
‘Not at all. Eamon and I would like the company and Michael knows us well. We’re his godparents, you know? We’ve taken Michael to church before and he has stayed with us sometimes.’
‘I’m sure Michael will like that, and it will also help me out. I was struggling to find someone to stay with Adrian and Paula on Sunday.’
‘Look, love,’ Colleen said kindly, ‘if we can be of any help let us know. You only have to say. You’ve got a heart of gold doing the fostering with two children of your own. I don;I&t know how you manage it.’
Neither did I sometimes, but as usual when someone praises what I do I felt embarrassed and uncomfortable. ‘Thank you,’ I said quietly.
‘Church is at ten fifteen, so can we collect Michael at nine forty-five?’
‘Yes. But I don’t think Michael has his suit with him, unless it’s in the bag Nora sent. I haven’t had a chance to unpack it yet. I know Pat likes Michael to wear his suit for church.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Colleen said. ‘It won’t hurt this once. It’s our souls the good Lord is after, not our clothes.’
I laughed. ‘OK. Thanks again. See you Sunday.’
Although I was sure Stella wouldn’t mind if Colleen and Eamon took Michael to church, gave him lunch and then took him to the hospital, as Michael’s social worker, I still had to have her consent. Michael was in care on a voluntary care order, so the usual constraints of fostering a child under a full care order didn’t apply. Had Michael been taken into care on an emergency protection order it would have been very different: Colleen and Eamon and anyone else over the age of twelve with whom Michael spent time alone would have had to be vetted by the social services and police-checked, as I was. It might seem overzealous but it is to protect the child.
I phoned Jill, told her how Patrick had been the previous evening when Michael and I had visited him in hospital and how Michael had been after the visit; then I asked her about Sunday.
‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ Jill said. ‘I’ll tell Stella and get back to you if there’s a problem, which I’m sure there won’t be. It was nice of them to offer to help out,’ Jill added. ‘And Michael will enjoy it.’
‘Yes, he will,’ I agreed.
Jill paused and then said, ‘Cathy, I think you’re going to need some more help, from the agency, if Patrick is staying in hospital and doesn’t want Adrian and Paula there. Shall I arrange for some support? One of our carers could babysit Adrian and Paula in the evenings next week while you take Michael.’
I knew my fostering agency offered ‘support’, as it’s termed, but I hadn’t thought to ask. When I’d first started fostering I’d accepted all the support that was on offer, but once experienced I hadn’t really needed it, until now. Now I realized I needed help and should accept Jill’s offer.
‘Thanks, Jill,’ I said. ‘That would be a big help. Can it be a carer Adrian and Paula know?’
‘I’ll see who’s available and get back to you.’
‘Thanks,’ I said again. I put the phone down and breathed an enormous sigh of relief. Now I could concentrate on looking after Adrian, Paula and Michael without the continual worry of finding sitters.
I went upstairs and unpacked the bag Nora had sent. She’d included the suit and tie Michael wore for church and I hung it in the wardrobe with the other clothes she’d sent: more casual outfits, trainers and another set of pyjamas. Jill phoned twentyutes later and said that Helen Lewis could babysit Adrian and Paula every evening the following week. I was very pleased. I knew Helen, and so too did Adrian and Paula. Helen and her husband, Pete, were a lovely couple in their early sixties who usually fostered babies. Their last child had recently been adopted after living with them for nearly two years and they were now taking some time off before the next baby arrived. Their own children were adults and lived away from home. I already had Helen’s phone number, so I thanked Jill and told her I’d phone Helen over the weekend to clarify the arrangements for the following week.
I collected Paula from nursery at twelve noon and on the way home I stopped off and bought a large box of chocolates as a thank-you present for Jenny. I then explained the plans for the weekend and the following week to Paula: that Nana and Grandpa were coming on Saturday to stay with her and Adrian while I took Michael to the hospital and would then stay for dinner, which delighted Paula. Then on Sunday Colleen and Eamon would take Michael to church and to the hospital; and the following week Helen Lewis would be sitting with her and Adrian.
‘So we’re not going to the hospital?’ Paula asked, when I’d finished, remembering I’d said I might take her and Adrian at the weekend.
‘No, Patrick is very tired and wants to wait until he’s better before he sees you and Adrian.’
Paula accepted this and then asked: ‘Can we have an ice cream every time you go out, like we did last night?’ As a treat – to soften the blow of her and Adrian being left behind – I’d told Jenny they could have an ice cream when I’d gone.
‘Yes, all right,’ I said, smiling. ‘But that’s a lot of ice creams. I’d better stock up the freezer. How many will I need to buy altogether? Do you know?’
Paula looked thoughtful and then began counting on her fingers, adding up two ice creams a day to the end of the following week. ‘Sixteen,’ she announced proudly at last.’
‘Fourteen,’ I said.
She frowned, puzzled. ‘No, it’s sixteen, I’m sure.’
‘It’s fourteen,’ I said, keeping a straight face. ‘You and Adrian won’t need an ice cream on Sunday because I won’t be leaving you.’
‘Oh Mum!’ she said, realizing I was joking, and playfully tapped my arm.
Later that afternoon when I met Michael from school I explained the arrangements to him, and he was comfortable with spending most of Sunday with Colleen and Eamon and said he’d done a similar thing before when his dad had been unwell. When I met Adrian from school I repeated the arrangements; why I hadn’t waited until all the children were together so I only had to explain once, I didn’t know. I think it was because I tried to treat each child as an individual with their own personality and needs. Adrian, like Paula, was pleased at the thought of spending
Saturday with Nana and Grandpa.
Friday evening followed the same routine as Thursday, with an early dinner ready for when Jenny arrived at 5.40. Jenny brought her sons, aged eight and six, with her and Adrian’s and Paula’s faces lit up. They were so excited at the prospect of playing with friends all evening that they nearly forgot to kiss me goodbye before rushing off. Michael looked a little disappointed that he couldn’t stay and join in the fun, although of course he was pleased to be seeing his father.
‘Send Patrick my best wishes,’ Jenny called as she saw Michael and me off at the door.
‘I will. Thanks again. Help yourself to whatever you want from the kitchen.’
We arrived in the hospital car park at exactly six o’clock; I fed the meter and then Michael and I joined the other visitors going in through the main entrance. I stopped off quickly at the small shop in the lobby and bought a newspaper and packet of biscuits for Patrick, and a bar of chocolate Michael fancied. I didn’t buy sweets for Patrick, as I thought he would still have plenty of those Colleen and Nora had given him the night before.
As we entered the ward Patrick was watching the door and spotted us straight away. He was propped on his pillows and gave a little wave. Going over we both kissed him and I asked how he was feeling. ‘Not bad,’ he said. And I thought he looked much brighter.
Michael sprawled on the bed next to his dad as he had the evening before, while I pulled up the chair. I was pleased to see that the young man in the next bed had a visitor – a young woman with a child, whom I took to be his partner and son. Patrick thanked me for the newspaper and biscuits and for buying Michael the chocolate bar.
‘I must give you some money,’ he said. ‘I know how much this lad eats.’
‘There’s no need,’ I said. ‘The social services give me an allowance.’
‘I know, but it doesn’t seem right. When I first approached the social services I offered to pay for Michael’s keep but Stella said they couldn’t accept it: that there was no provision to accept it, which seems daft.’
