by Cathy Glass
‘Paula, love,’ I said, wiping away her tears, ‘you need to go into school too. Harrison will be fine, and we’ll talk more this evening. Shall I ask your teacher if you can sit in the quiet room for a while?’ The quiet room, also known as the medical room, was attended by a welfare lady, who was kindness itself and made children better if they fell over, fell out with friends or just needed some time out.
Paula slowly nodded. I eased her hand from Harrison’s and held it as we crossed the playground to where her class teacher was seeing her class into the building. When her teacher saw Paula upset she exclaimed: ‘Dear me, Paula, that’s not like you. Whatever is the matter?’
Paula gave a little sob and more tears appeared.
‘Could I speak to you?’ I asked her teacher. She moved slightly away so that the other children couldn’t overhear us. ‘Paula is upset because we’re having to say goodbye to Harrison,’ I said. ‘He’s leaving us and going to live with his mother.’
‘Oh dear,’ she said, her brow furrowing. ‘I can see why she’s upset.’
I nodded. ‘I was wondering if Paula could spend a few minutes in the quiet room with Mrs Wilson until she feels better? I’ll be home again in an hour, so if Paula’s still upset then I could come and collect her and take her home.’
‘Of course. I’ll explain to Mrs Wilson.’ She held out her hand to Paula and said: ‘Would you like Mrs Wilson to read you a story?’
Paula nodded, dropped my hand and took hold of her teacher’s. ‘Bye, Harry,’ she said as fresh tears welled in her eyes. ‘Bye. I’ll always love you.’
I swallowed hard. ‘Take care.’ I watched her walk into school beside her teacher and then I turned and crossed the playground.
It was at times like that that I questioned if fostering was right for my family and if by fostering I was doing Adrian and Paula real emotional damage. That morning I left the playground with a heavy heart, aware my children were very upset because the baby they’d loved as their little brother was leaving us for good, and it was my fault for fostering.
Chapter Thirty-One
Goodbye Harrison
In contrast to how Adrian, Paula and I were feeling that Thursday morning Rihanna was euphoric. She appeared from the door to the flats as soon as I drew up. With a huge smile on her face she ran down the path and greeted us.
‘Hi, Harrison, my treasure,’ she cried, opening the rear door of the car as soon as I’d parked. ‘You’re staying with me tonight! And guess who’s coming to see you later?’ Harrison couldn’t guess. ‘Your grandmother!’
‘Is she?’ I asked, surprised, as I got out of the car.
‘She telephoned yesterday evening,’ Rihanna said, reaching into the car and unfastening Harrison’s seatbelt. ‘We had a long talk. Now she’s finally accepting I’m serious about bringing up Harrison, and I’m not going to be persuaded out of it, she’s having to re-think.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘I am pleased.’
‘She’s still got a way to go yet,’ Rihanna added.
I nodded, for I remembered the woman who’d sat on my sofa, unable to touch or even talk to her grandson, and thought she did have a long way to go before she became a doting grandmother, but at least this was a start.
I locked the car and followed Rihanna up the path and into her flat. ‘You’ll need these,’ I said, passing her the carrier bag I’d brought from home.
She peered into the bag and sighed gratefully. ‘Thanks, Cathy. You think of everything!’ Rihanna took out the soft toy panda and bear which she’d originally bought for Harrison and had sat at the foot of his cot every night. Harrison beamed, delighted, when he saw them.
‘I should put them in the same place in his cot here,’ I suggested.
‘Yes, of course,’ Rihanna said, understanding the importance of this. ‘Then if he does wake he’ll see them and feel secure.’
‘But don’t be surprised if he’s a bit unsettled tonight,’ I added. ‘Although he’s used to having a short nap in his cot here during the day it will be the first time he’s slept in it at night.’
‘I won’t panic – don’t worry.’ Rihanna smiled.
I returned her smile. ‘I know you won’t. You’ll be fine. Well, I’ll say goodbye, then. I’m going home to pack all his belongings so I’ll have everything ready for when you arrive tomorrow.’
Hearing the word ‘bye’ Harrison cutely pursed his lips and began leaning from his mother’s arms towards me, ready to give me a goodbye kiss. Rihanna and I both laughed. I lowered my head so that my cheek was within his reach and felt his warm lips press lightly against my skin.
‘Have a good day,’ I said to them both. Turning, I left the room and then let myself out of the flat.
Aware I had a lot of packing to do, I’d left the day free for that purpose. Although Harrison had been spending most of each day with his mother that week, he’d returned each evening, so his belongings were all over the house, as any family member’s are. As if to prove the point, as soon as I got home and opened the front door I saw Harrison’s winter coat hanging on the hall stand. He’d been wearing a lighter jacket recently but I’d left his winter coat out in case the spring days suddenly turned cold. So that I wouldn’t forget it I unhooked the coat from the stand and put it at the foot of the stairs, ready to take up when I next went.
I continued through to the kitchen, where the high chair stood beside the table as I’d left it that morning, with the bib Harrison had been wearing at breakfast on the tray. I put the bib into the washing machine, collapsed the high chair and carried it upstairs, together with Harrison’s coat. I propped the high chair against the wall on the landing, ready to go in the loft later, and I took Harrison’s coat into his bedroom for when I packed his clothes.
Returning downstairs I filled the kettle and made a cup of coffee. I opened the drawer that contained Harrison’s clean bibs and, taking them out, I set them to one side to pack. I washed and dried Harrison’s plate, beaker, bowl and spoon, which I also set to one side to give to Rihanna. Although Rihanna had bought her own, these were Harrison’s as far as I was concerned and I thought she could use them as spares. I sipped my coffee, then emptied the sterilizing unit and took it to the foot of the stairs, ready to go into the loft later. Returning to the kitchen I cleared out the baby bag, variously disposing of its contents into cupboards and drawers or on the pile to give to Rihanna. I returned the bag for general use to the cupboard under the stairs, from which I took out a couple of large laundry-style bags I’d bought for packing. My thoughts went briefly to Ellie and the horror this cupboard had first held for her until I’d exorcized it by leaping in and out and making her laugh. I wondered how Ellie was doing now and I hoped Jill would tell me the outcome when Ellie’s case went to court and a decision on her future had been made.
In the kitchen again, I packed the items to give to Rihanna and then cleared the baby food from the cupboard, throwing away the packets that had been opened and packing the unopened ones to give to Rihanna. It was unlikely I’d be fostering a baby again in the near future. Once the kitchen was clear I went into the sitting room, where I folded and packed the play mat. The first bag was full and I began on the second, filling it with Harrison’s toys, of which there were many. Not wanting Adrian and Paula to be confronted with the bags when they came in from school, which they might have found upsetting, once they were full I took them upstairs and stowed them in Harrison’s bedroom.
Downstairs again, I finished my coffee, took another laundry bag from the cupboard under the stairs and then checked the sitting room for any stray toys. I found a squeaky toy behind one of the cushions and I packed it. I then went through the rest of the downstairs of the house, picking up any stray toys, and once satisfied I’d spotted everything, I went upstairs to begin on Harrison’s bedroom.
Concentrating on the task in hand and avoiding any thoughts of Harrison leaving, I first took the bedding from the cot and put that in the laundry basket. Next, I collapsed the cot
and put it on the landing with the other items to go into the loft. I then went into the bathroom, where I bagged up Harrison’s bathtime playthings, together with his towel, soap, sponge and flannel, which I would give to Rihanna. It was then I realized that Harrison’s car seat and pushchair were still in the car. Going downstairs I went to the car, where I took the pushchair from the boot and car seat from the rear and brought them indoors. I wouldn’t need them any more. I carried them upstairs and stacked them on the landing, to be returned to the loft later. All that was left to pack now was Harrison’s clothes, and I returned to his bedroom. Reaching on top of the wardrobe, I carefully lifted down the trolley case that Rihanna had packed and left at the hospital for when I’d collected Harrison. Who would have thought that ten months later I’d be repacking it so that Harrison could go home to his mother? It was incredible and fantastic, as Jill had said: a truly happy ending.
Setting the case on the ground I unzipped the lid and, opening the wardrobe door, began taking out and packing Harrison’s clothes. As I worked my thoughts went to Harrison’s first night with us, when, having settled him in his cot in my bedroom, I’d come in here and opened this case. I remembered my surprise when I’d seen it full of brand-new boy’s baby clothes – every size from newborn to twelve months. I remembered the letter I’d found that Rihanna had tucked into the case and which had been addressed: Dear Foster Carer. My heart went out to her now, as it had then, as I thought of that letter, so full of love, tenderness and concern, explaining that she’d sent enough clothes for Harrison’s first year, believing he would then be adopted. I remembered the dreadful sadness and hopelessness that had spilled from her words – the words of a grieving mother who’d desperately sought a way to keep her baby but had been forced to give him up. I was so pleased for Rihanna now, so very glad her story could have a happy ending and that I was now packing to send Harrison home. But if I was so happy, why was I crying?
My vision blurred with silent tears, for as Harrison was returning to his mother so he was leaving us. I continued packing his little clothes just as lovingly as his mother had done all that time ago. The little white cap and pale blue sleepsuit he’d been wearing when I’d collected him from the hospital; the white blanket he’d been wrapped in. His tiny first-size bootees, vests and mittens; it seemed incredible that big as he was now he’d once fitted into these. Little pyjamas with pictures of Paddington Bear; a romper suit with a motif of Thomas the Tank engine and a matching shirt and jumper. These were all clothes Rihanna had bought for him and which, following her wishes, I’d dressed him in every day. They would now be returned to her, together with the clothes he hadn’t yet grown into. As I worked I sensed the loss and emptiness Rihanna must have felt as she’d packed this case, believing she was losing her son forever.
Once the wardrobe and drawers were clear I zipped shut the case and wiped my eyes. Feeling as empty as the room was I came out and closed the door. I went downstairs, took the pole for the loft hatch from the cupboard under the stairs and returned to the landing, where I opened the loft. Taking one section at a time, I heaved the cot piecemeal up the ladders and into the loft, stacking it where it had originally come from; then I returned down the ladders for the other items. Once the landing was clear I closed the loft hatch and returned the pole to the cupboard.
With the baby equipment in the loft and Harrison’s belongings packed, ready to be collected the following morning, I wandered into the sitting room, where the photographs of Harrison looked at me from the mantelpiece and wall. The photograph on the wall was framed and part of a display that included photographs of Adrian, Paula, my family and other children we’d looked after, though none had been as young as Harrison. I had many more photographs in albums and I now took from the shelf the one I’d begun when Harrison had first arrived. Sitting on the sofa I opened the first page and looked at the photographs. Harrison, only two days old, fast asleep in his pram with his little fist pressed to his chin as though he was deep in thought. Then pictures of him a week old, ten days; I continued to turn the pages. Some of the photographs were copies of those I’d given to Rihanna while others were personal to us: family photographs showing Adrian, Paula, my parents, my brother, his wife and me at family occasions – birthdays, outings, in our homes and gardens – all of which included Harrison, who of course had been one of my family. My vision blurred again. Dear Harrison, or Harry as Paula liked to call him, how dearly he would be missed. While we’d always known that eventually he would leave us, it didn’t make it any easier, for the love of a family is unconditional and can’t be turned on and off at will.
I cried quietly until my tears were spent and, then feeling a little better and able to give Adrian and Paula the comfort and support they would need, I left for school. As I entered the playground Mrs Wilson, the school’s welfare lady, made her way across the playground, clearly wanting to speak to me.
‘Just to let you know Paula stayed with me for half an hour this morning and then joined her class,’ she said reassuringly.
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ve been keeping an eye on her. I can appreciate why she was so upset. I don’t know how you do it, keep having to say goodbye to the children you look after.’
‘Neither do I,’ I said, and swallowed hard.
Adrian and Paula had become used to me arriving in the playground without Harrison, as we’d been collecting him from his mother’s after school, so it wasn’t until we were in the car heading for home rather than Rihanna’s flat that they realized this was different.
‘Oh!’ Adrian said. ‘Harrison’s sleeping at his mother’s tonight.’
‘Yes, he is,’ I confirmed.
‘Harry’s gone now, hasn’t he?’ Paula said.
‘Yes. His mother will collect his belongings tomorrow. I’ve packed them, and put all the baby equipment in the loft.’
They fell silent and when we arrived home they were quiet, and then went tentatively from room to room peering in to see what had changed.
‘Harry’s high chair has gone,’ Paula called from the kitchen. Then going into the sitting room where Harry’s playmat and toys had previously covered most of the floor: ‘It’s empty without him.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘It is.’
I then suggested to Adrian and Paula that they watched some television while I made dinner, which is what they often did at this time. They agreed but without much enthusiasm. I switched on the television, passed the remote to Adrian and left them to choose the channel, while I went into the kitchen and began preparing dinner. As I worked I could hear the sound of the television coming from the sitting room but without Harrison’s usual chatter which had made Adrian and Paula tell him to ‘sshh’ so that they could hear. It had been part of normal family life. Now all I could hear was the television and it sounded hollow.
Toscha wandered into the kitchen, miaowed, wandered out again and then reappeared as if looking for someone. I stroked her and she purred.
When dinner was ready we sat at the table, and the gap that had been left by the removal of Harrison’s high chair was cripplingly obvious. No one said anything and we ate in silence, but ignoring Harrison’s absence was like ignoring an elephant in the room.
Eventually I said: ‘I know we’re all missing Harrison, but we have to remember he has gone to live with his mother, which is great.’ My words sounded flat, even to me.
Adrian and Paula nodded but said nothing.
‘And you’ll be able to see him in a week,’ I added.
‘Not sure I want to,’ Adrian finally said.
‘Nor me,’ Paula agreed. ‘It’ll be too upsetting.’
‘You might feel differently nearer the time,’ I said, and then returned to the partially eaten food on my plate.
After dinner I took the card and leaving present I’d previously bought for Harrison from the bag and called to Adrian and Paula to help wrap the present and sign the card. They said they thought Harrison would like the present – a
silver moneybox in the shape of a cat – and together they wrapped it; then we signed the leaving card. Clearly Harrison couldn’t read yet and whether or not Rihanna kept the card to show him when he was older would be up to her. I hoped she would. Harrison was young enough to forget the time he’d spent with us, and if Rihanna decided to get rid of the Life Story book with its photographs of us he might never know his early history. But that would be her decision.
The rest of the evening continued with the three of us feeling Harrison’s absence deeply but saying very little. Then Adrian and Paula started bickering – a displacement for their sadness – which resulted in Paula bursting easily into tears and claiming no one loved her. I spent half an hour comforting her, by the end of which Adrian was feeling neglected: ‘She only cries to get attention,’ he said. I comforted him too, but was pleased when I could start their bath and bedtime routine; I told myself that once we’d got through tomorrow we could all start to move on.
The following morning the children were still subdued at breakfast and didn’t mention Harrison at all. I didn’t raise the subject, as they’d said their goodbyes the day before; it was just left for me to say goodbye when Rihanna came at ten o’clock to collect Harrison’s belongings. I saw Adrian and Paula into school and then returned home, where I brought all Harrison’s bags down from the bedroom and stacked them in the hall. It was now 9.30 and I made a quick coffee and then gathered together the other items I needed to give to Rihanna: Harrison’s red book; his Life Story book (which I’d updated the evening before); his leaving present and card; and a cheque made payable to Harrison (for his savings account), which was the allowance I’d received for his clothes and hadn’t spent.
At exactly ten o’clock the doorbell rang. I steeled myself and went down the hall and opened the door. The first thing I saw was a huge bouquet of flowers tied with a large gold ribbon. Then Harrison, in his mother’s arms, peered round from behind the flowers.