by Cathy Glass
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll go to the hospital now and then I’ll phone you later.’
‘Thank you.’
I returned my phone to my bag and then drove home, deep in thought and haunted by the image of Faye giving up her baby. Yes, I’d be there if that was what she wanted, but I wasn’t sure how much use I’d be. Every time I thought of Faye and little Edward my eyes filled. It was heart-rending and I didn’t know how I’d cope.
The girls heard the front door open and as soon as I stepped into the hall they appeared from the living room. Adrian was working until eight again.
‘I thought you were taking us to see Faye and her baby tonight?’ Paula said, a little disgruntled.
‘There’s been a change of plan,’ I said as I hung my coat on the hall stand.
‘So aren’t we going then?’ Lucy persisted.
‘No. Let’s go and sit down and I’ll explain.’ I could smell dinner cooking – Lucy and Paula must have made it – but I wasn’t hungry.
In the living room the girls sat together on the sofa and I took one of the easy chairs. They looked at me and waited.
‘I guess it’s not good news then,’ Lucy said.
I shook my head and drew a breath. ‘Faye has decided she can’t look after Edward and he should be adopted.’ They stared at me, serious and concerned.
‘Oh,’ Paula said after a moment, while Lucy remained silent.
‘I’ve spoken to her social worker and Edward will go into care either this evening or tomorrow. Faye will go home. It’s obviously not what any of us was hoping for, but it’s her decision.’
‘That’s very sad,’ Paula said at last.
‘But it’s not completely unexpected, is it?’ Lucy said. ‘I mean, Faye was going to struggle to look after her baby and it’s better if it happens now than in a few years’ time.’
Lucy had been badly neglected before coming into care so had a very personal view of a mother trying, but failing, to parent her child.
‘And adoption is good for the child,’ Lucy added. ‘Look at me.’
I managed a weak smile. ‘But even so, it’s very sad when a mother has to give up her child, for whatever reason.’
‘Aren’t we going to see Edward at all then?’ Paula asked forlornly.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘We bought a present for him from us all,’ Paula said. ‘It’s a big teddy bear.’
‘And a congratulations card for Faye,’ Lucy said. ‘But that’s not really appropriate now, is it?’
‘No,’ I agreed quietly. ‘It isn’t. But I’m sure I can get the present to Edward somehow, when I know the arrangements. I’ve bought Christmas presents too.’ I looked away and swallowed hard as we all fell silent.
Sammy sauntered in, looked at us and, deciding this wasn’t much fun, went out again. A Christmas garland stirred gently, its gaiety now perversely at odds with our sadness.
‘So. There we have it,’ I said at last. ‘We did our best. We’ve faced upsetting situations in fostering before and I don’t suppose this will be the last.’ But my bottom lip trembled, undermining the brave stoicism of my words. The girls saw and came over and encircled me in their arms. I put mine around them and we hugged. A group hug. We’ve group hugged since the children were little and it’s helped us all at some time or other when one of us has been upset. The warmth and reassurance of having the arms of loved ones around you is comforting and heartening. Sometimes we have a group hug when we’re not upset, just because we want to.
After a while we drew apart and Paula said more brightly, ‘We’ve made dinner, Mum. You’ll be surprised by our culinary efforts. Shall we dish it up now?’
I hadn’t the heart to say no, that I wasn’t hungry, when they’d gone to so much trouble. ‘Yes, please, but just a little for me.’
They insisted I waited in the living room until they were ready. The food certainly smelt good. Sometimes when I asked them or Adrian to make dinner because I was rushing around and hadn’t the time, they took the easy way out and defrosted convenience food from the freezer, but that hadn’t happened tonight. When they called me in I was very impressed. A steaming pasta, ham and vegetable bake topped with a delicious cheese sauce and browned to perfection stood on a pad in the centre of the table, and beside it garlic bread and a bowl of salad.
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘You’ll have to cook more often.’
‘No, thanks. It took us ages,’ Lucy said.
‘It must have done.’
We served ourselves and it was delicious, although the conversation as we ate was more subdued than usual. Once we’d finished I said I’d clear away, as they’d made dinner, and there were audible sounds of relief. When Adrian came home I told him straight away of Faye’s decision, even before he’d showered.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said. ‘I guess she knows best, and the baby will be loved and well looked after with the adoptive parents.’
‘Yes.’
That was all he said, although I knew he’d be thinking much more. Adrian’s never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but Faye giving up her baby would have affected him as much as it had the rest of us.
After he’d eaten he complimented the girls on their cooking. He sometimes teased them if they cooked, feigning stomach pains, as they did to him. But tonight he was all praise and said, as I had, that it was delicious, and then added that surprisingly he still felt quite well, which won him a light-hearted smack on the arm from the girls.
It was now 8.45 and I was still waiting for Becky to telephone with the arrangements for Edward going into care. I wondered if I should call Mum and tell her what was happening, but decided to wait until the following day when the deed was done and hopefully I would feel stronger, more positive and less likely to burst into tears.
At nine o’clock I was sitting in the living room, the phone within reach, and writing up my log notes for the day – my visit to the hospital and Faye’s decision. It wasn’t easy and my eyes kept welling, making it difficult to see what I was writing. The phone rang and I reached out and picked up the handset. It was Becky on her mobile, just about to leave the hospital. She’d been there for two and a half hours, talking to Faye and making arrangements.
‘Edward can stay here tonight,’ she said, ‘and then tomorrow he’ll go into foster care. I’m aiming to have him collected at eleven o’clock in the morning, but I’m waiting for confirmation on the time from the carer’s social worker. Faye asked me if she could stay in hospital tonight so she can spend one last night with Edward, and I’ve agreed this with the staff nurse. Faye won’t be looking after him, the nurses will, but she just wants to be close to him. I’ve moved his crib right up beside her bed so she can see him during the night.’ Becky’s voice fell away and it was a moment before she could continue. ‘Once I’ve had confirmation from children’s services about the time tomorrow, I’ll phone you, Cathy. Probably in the morning now, as it’s getting late. I shall be at the hospital tomorrow when the carer arrives, but Stan and Wilma won’t. I’ve spoken to them and they’ll be waiting at home for Faye. I’ll take her there once the baby’s gone. I’ve told her she needn’t be there, she doesn’t have to hand the baby to the carer, but she wants to.’ She stopped abruptly as emotion again got the better of her. ‘It’s been a long day.’
‘Yes.’ I took a deep breath and then, focusing on the practical, said, ‘Faye’s belongings are here. I’ll have to get them to her at some point.’
‘Perhaps you could take them to her once she’s home? If not, I will.’
‘I can take them,’ I said.
‘Thank you. Give her a day or so. She’s bound to be upset, and she’ll still have some clothes at home she can wear. I’ll phone you in the morning as soon as I hear.’
We said goodnight and I stayed where I was for a few minutes, composing myself, then I went upstairs to tell Adrian, Paula and Lucy what was happening. They were in their bedrooms, reading, texting or listening t
o music, and I went in and out of each of their rooms and told them that I wasn’t going to the hospital tonight, as Edward would be going into care tomorrow. I didn’t tell them what Becky had said about Faye asking if she could spend one more night with her baby, as I knew my composure would crack and they’d find it very upsetting. I also told them I was having an early night and reminded them to make sure that Sammy was in for the night. Now they were older I sometimes went to bed before them and read or listened to the radio, but not tonight. I just wanted the comfort of my bed.
I’d forgotten that I’d been wrapping Christmas presents when I’d taken the telephone call to go to the hospital, and as I entered my bedroom and switched on the light the first thing I saw was Edward’s sack – ‘My First Christmas’. Beside that lay the camera I’d bought for Faye, which I’d been about to wrap – her present from us so she could take lots of photographs of Edward on Christmas morning. That was it. The tears I’d been fighting back all evening now fell. I closed my bedroom door so no one could hear, sat on the floor with my back against the door and, with the presents in view, wept.
I cried for little Edward who wouldn’t be spending this Christmas, or any other, with his mother. I cried for Faye, the kindest, most gentle person I knew, who, despite her learning difficulties, had tried her best to learn to parent and then, facing an impossible decision, had made the ultimate sacrifice. I cried for my darling dad, whom I missed dreadfully as we faced our first Christmas without him. Then I cried for all the pain and suffering in the world – for those whose lives had been blighted by war, famine or years of abuse, sadness or loss. Then I just cried.
It’s said that a good cry helps, but as I finally wiped my eyes and began packing away the presents, ribbon and paper I didn’t feel much better. In a little over twelve hours I’d be with Faye as she said goodbye to her baby, and it was agony.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Saying Goodbye
I needed to be strong for Faye. She’d asked me to be with her for support, and I couldn’t let her down. As I showered and dressed the following morning I clung to that thought and tried to contain my emotion. But the image of Faye saying goodbye to Edward and then handing him to the carer tortured me. I hadn’t slept well, although as I’d tossed and turned I’d also been dreading the night being over, as it would take us closer to that fateful moment. Did I secretly hope that Faye would change her mind at the last minute? Yes, but I doubted she would. I knew she hadn’t taken the decision lightly; she’d been wrestling with it since Edward’s birth, which was why she hadn’t wanted anything to do with him. And perhaps part of me felt it was the right decision, and that it was inevitable.
I couldn’t face breakfast but drank a large mug of coffee. Paula, Lucy and Adrian didn’t mention what was about to happen until I saw them off at the door one at a time.
‘Good luck,’ Lucy said, with a very serious expression as she kissed my cheek.
‘I’ll be thinking of you,’ Paula said, hugging me hard.
‘Phone me at work if you need me,’ Adrian said, and patted the top of my head. With him being that much taller than me, it was usually comical, and I managed a small smile.
Once the house was empty, save for Sammy and me, I put the contents of the laundry basket into the washing machine and then tidied up the kitchen. At nine o’clock the landline rang and my heart stepped up a beat.
‘Hello, Cathy.’ It was Becky telephoning from her office. ‘I’ll be at the hospital by ten thirty,’ she said evenly. ‘The foster carer will be arriving at eleven, so I suggest you arrive at ten forty-five. I haven’t met the carer, but she sounds very nice. She has two older children of her own and specializes in fostering babies and toddlers. She’s just moved a toddler to adoptive parents and is looking forward to caring for a baby again.’
‘Good,’ I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Patsy.’
‘Patsy McDonald?’
‘Yes. Do you know her?’
‘A little, from our fostering support group meetings and training. I’ve spoken to her. She is very nice, a lovely person.’ I felt very slightly better.
‘Excellent. You’ll be able to reassure Faye. I’m going to telephone Stan and Wilma now and confirm what time I’ll be bringing Faye home. I’ll see you at ten forty-five then.’
‘Yes.’
I now had an hour to fill before I needed to leave for the hospital. I knew I couldn’t settle to much, so I took a duster and began wiping various surfaces. They weren’t really dusty, but I thought being on the move and doing something physical might distract me. I also put away the doll, doll’s bottle, crib and clothes Faye and I had been practising with. I didn’t want any reminders when I came home. I’d already put Edward’s Santa sack and Faye’s presents out of sight in what had been her bedroom.
It was almost a relief when it was time for me to leave for the hospital; waiting for the inevitable had become agonizing. I went through my usual routine of locking and checking the back door, and then I put on my coat and shoes and left the house. I was dressed smartly but soberly in a plain navy skirt, blue jumper, ankle boots and a grey coat. The weather was clear and dry. I reversed the car from the driveway and then concentrated on the road ahead. I could feel my stomach churning, and as I neared the hospital my mouth went dry and I shivered, but I managed to keep the tears from my eyes. I parked the car in view of the maternity block and then suddenly panic gripped me. I was sure I was going to let Faye down. I switched off the engine and sat for a minute to compose myself, then I got out, fed the meter, placed the ticket on the windscreen and crossed the car park to the maternity entrance.
The Christmas tree was lit up, but any joy it represented evaded me. A young couple, both smiling broadly, came out of the elevator, the man carrying their newborn baby in a carrier car seat. They searched for eye contact, wanting the world to share their happiness, and I smiled back. Leaving hospital for the first time with your newborn is a glorious moment, one that Faye wouldn’t now experience. It was exactly ten forty-five as I entered the ward and I stopped dead as anxiety gripped me. The curtains around Faye’s bed were open and she and her baby were gone.
‘Where’s Faye?’ I asked the auxiliary nurse who was making up the bed. Had I misunderstood the instructions and come too late?
‘We’re in here, Cathy!’ Becky’s voice came from behind me. I turned, relieved. Becky was standing in front of a door marked ‘Visitors’ Room’. ‘I’ve been looking out for you. We’ll be more private in here.’
‘How is Faye?’ I asked as I went over.
‘She’s being very brave. She’ll be pleased to see you.’
With my heart thumping loudly I went in and Becky closed the door behind us. My gaze went to Faye, who was sitting in the corner of the room with Edward asleep in her arms. She was dressed in the fresh clothes I’d packed for her, and with her hair brushed she looked a bit brighter.
‘Hello, love,’ I said. I went over and sat beside her.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she said, glancing up.
‘You’re welcome.’ I touched her arm reassuringly.
Becky sat in the chair on the other side of Faye and the three of us gazed at little Edward, his features relaxed in sleep. He was wearing one of the babygrows and the shawl Faye and I had bought together, with the little white hat. It was impossible to know what to say for the best. In all my years of fostering I’d never been in this position before. He’s gorgeous or You’ve got a lovely baby didn’t seem appropriate and were surely likely to upset Faye.
But then Faye said, ‘I think he looks a little like me, don’t you?’
‘Yes. He’s very handsome,’ I said, and Becky agreed.
‘I was looking at him a lot last night,’ Faye said. ‘I think he’s going to be handsome and very clever, don’t you?’
‘Definitely,’ I said. Becky nodded. I thought she was struggling to contain her emotion as much as I was.
> ‘He will be clever and able to learn things, won’t he?’ Faye asked, turning to Becky. We both knew what she meant.
‘Yes,’ Becky said. ‘You don’t have to worry about that. He’s perfect in every way.’ Although Faye had been told that her condition – Foetal Alcohol Syndrome – couldn’t be inherited, I think she needed the reassurance.
‘That’s good,’ Faye said quietly, with the smallest of smiles, and my heart clenched.
We continued to gaze at Edward for some moments as he slept and then Faye said to me, ‘I’m going home to my gran and grandpa’s when I’ve said goodbye to Edward.’
‘Yes, I know, love. They’ll look after you. I’ll phone you in a couple of days to arrange to bring your belongings to you.’
‘Thank you. But don’t bring the baby things. I don’t want those,’ she said. ‘They’ll make me sad.’
‘No, just your things,’ I confirmed.
There was another small silence and then Faye said, ‘It will be Christmas soon. I’ll be with Gran and Grandpa. Will you be with your mummy?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Will you say goodbye to her from me?’ Faye said. ‘She’s a nice lady. She was very nice to me. I’m sure your daddy was nice, too, but I didn’t know him.’ Said with the innocent tactlessness of a child, but the mention of my father at this emotional time brought the tears to my eyes. I quickly turned away so Faye couldn’t see and, taking a tissue from my pocket, I wiped my eyes. Becky saw and understood.
‘It’s all right, Cathy,’ she said kindly.
‘Say goodbye to Paula, Lucy and Adrian,’ Faye added. ‘They were kind to me too. I like them.’
‘I will,’ I said, facing her again. ‘We all liked having you to stay, Faye. Hopefully we’ll see you again.’ But I didn’t know when or how.
I looked at her as she continued to gaze down at Edward sleeping peacefully in her arms. It was the perfect image of a mother and her child, if you didn’t know what was about to happen. At least at his age, I consoled myself, Edward wouldn’t be aware of the separation that was about to take place. Older babies, toddlers and children scream and cry, and cling to their parents when they are taken into care, but Edward would just go from one pair of loving arms into another. It was a small consolation.
