Can I Let You Go?

by Cathy Glass

  Faye kept Snuggles pressed to her cheek as Becky asked us, ‘Any more questions from anyone?’

  Stan shook his head and then Wilma looked at me and said, ‘Will Faye be seeing your parents? Becky said you were a close family and Faye gets on very well with older people. Probably because we’ve brought her up.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We are a close family and she’ll see my parents whenever we do, as long as it doesn’t clash with when she sees you.’ I stopped. A lump had suddenly risen in my throat and I felt my eyes fill. My bottom lip trembled. Don’t cry, you silly woman, I told myself. But they’d seen my discomposure and were looking at me. I took a deep breath and swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s just my mother now. We lost my dad recently. It was his funeral last Tuesday.’

  ‘Oh, I am sorry,’ Becky said, touching my arm kindly. ‘We didn’t know. The records haven’t been updated. I’ll tell Edith to change them so this doesn’t happen again.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, fighting to recover my composure. I felt such a fool. I took another deep breath and then said, ‘Yes, we are a close family, and Faye will be part of our family while she is with us.’ I left it at that, for I knew that to say any more about my parents, or rather Mum, would open the floodgates on my tears.

  ‘Faye,’ Becky now said, looking at her. ‘It’s Thursday today. I suggest we move you to Cathy’s at the weekend. Does that suit everyone?’ We all nodded. ‘Any preference for Saturday or Sunday?’ She looked around.

  ‘Sunday,’ Wilma said. ‘Gives me a chance to sort out what Faye needs to take with her.’

  ‘Sunday is fine with me,’ I said.

  ‘Do you want to take Faye in a cab so you can see where she is going to live?’ Becky now asked Wilma and Stan.

  ‘There’s no need,’ Wilma said. ‘We’ve seen the photographs Cathy brought. It would be such a kerfuffle getting us all down and into the cab, and then back again. We’re on the council waiting list for a ground-floor flat or bungalow,’ she added, glancing at me.

  ‘It must be very difficult for you up here,’ I said. ‘I can collect Faye. One of my children can come with me and help with her bags so we don’t have to make too many trips up and down in the elevator.’

  ‘That sounds good, thank you,’ Becky said. ‘What time shall we make it on Sunday?’

  ‘I’m easy,’ I said.

  Stan and Wilma didn’t offer any suggestion on time so Becky said, ‘Shall we say two o’clock? Then Faye can have some lunch here with you before she leaves.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. Stan and Wilma nodded.

  ‘Great,’ Becky said and made a note before putting away her pad and pen.

  Faye wanted to show me her bedroom before we left, which was a good sign. She was more relaxed with me now. Becky stayed in the living room while I went with Faye. It was a medium-size room, prettily decorated in shades of pink, with shelves of cuddly toys and dolls, much like a young girl’s bedroom might be. I admired it and then we returned briefly to the living room, before Faye came with Becky and me to see us out. Stan and Wilma remained seated in the living room and I had the feeling that it was probably such a struggle for them to get around that they only moved when they had to.

  At the door Faye threw her arms around Becky. ‘She always hugs me goodbye,’ Becky explained. Then Faye wanted to hug me, so childlike and innocent in her display of affection and at odds with her obvious pregnancy.

  ‘I like you,’ she said after a moment, drawing back.

  ‘Good. I like you too,’ I said. ‘See you on Sunday. Three more sleeps.’

  She smiled and we said goodbye.

  ‘Snuggles says goodbye too,’ Faye added.

  ‘Bye,’ I said.

  Becky and I left and Faye closed the door.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ Becky asked once we were in the elevator. ‘She’s a nice kid. Her grandparents have done a good job of bringing her up, although they can be overprotective.’

  ‘Yes, she’s lovely,’ I said. ‘But how on earth did she get pregnant when they never let her out of their sight?’

  ‘Exactly what they and I would like to know,’ Becky said.

  Chapter Three

  Not Stupid

  ‘Wilma is blaming the stables or the day centre,’ Becky continued in the elevator. ‘But they are adamant it couldn’t have happened there. Faye is never left unattended long enough to meet a man.’

  ‘Wilma said that Faye can use the bus once she knows the route,’ I said. ‘So presumably she’s on her own for some periods?’

  ‘Yes, but only for the length of the bus journey. One of the staff at the day centre or the stables sees her onto the bus, and the bus stop here is right outside the flats. If Faye is delayed for any reason or the bus is late one of the staff phones Wilma and Stan. There just isn’t a window of opportunity when Faye could have met someone, although clearly she has.’

  ‘And Wilma and Stan have no idea who he might be?’ I asked. The elevator stopped, the doors opened and we got out.

  ‘No, or if they do know they’re not saying,’ Becky continued outside. ‘When I tried talking to Faye about it she just looked at me blankly. I’m not sure she even understands how she got pregnant, although I did explain. She’ll be spending a lot of time with you after the move, so perhaps she’ll open up once she’s away from her grandparents.’

  I nodded thoughtfully. ‘I guess Faye is entitled to a relationship just as anyone is. As long as she gave her consent.’

  ‘Yes. Exactly,’ Becky said. We were now standing by her car. ‘Adults with learning difficulties are very vulnerable. Statistically they are far more likely to be abused than anyone else in our society. Shocking, isn’t it? But I don’t know if someone has taken advantage of Faye or if she has been seeing someone. If she’d told me I could have arranged for her to see a nurse for contraception advice. I know some good nurses with experience of adults with learning difficulties. It’s something I’ll need to consider after the baby is born. I don’t want this happening again. So if you can find out if she is likely to see the father again, I’d be very grateful.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ I said. ‘But given that Faye only has four contacts in her phone, five now with mine, isn’t it unlikely she’s in a relationship? How has she been communicating with him?’

  Becky shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘And Wilma and Stan never leave her alone in the flat?’

  ‘Not according to Wilma, although she was very quick to blame the stables and the day centre when she first found out. Stan never says much. Anyway, Cathy, hopefully Faye will open up to you. Thanks for taking her. We only have a few foster carers who specialize in adult fostering and they’re full. I guess it doesn’t appeal as much as looking after children.’

  ‘To be honest, it’s not something I’d previously considered,’ I admitted. ‘But I’m glad Edith thought of me. We’ll do our best for Faye.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Then, glancing at her watch, she added, ‘I need to be going now; I’m in a meeting soon. I’ll phone you on Monday after the move. Thanks again.’

  We said goodbye. Becky got into her car and I went to mine. Did I feel happier now I’d met Faye? Yes, to some extent I did. Perhaps happy wasn’t the right word – she was, after all, still going to give up her baby – but I was slightly more at ease with it, simply because Faye didn’t appear upset or distraught about being pregnant or having her baby adopted. Indeed, it had hardly been mentioned. She’d been more concerned about not being able to go to the stables. Becky had said that Wilma had taken the news badly, but she, too, had appeared more relaxed now, perhaps because a fostering placement had been found to help them out.

  Yet it was difficult to know, I thought, as I began the drive home, if Faye had really come to terms with what was happening or if she was just ignoring it, or didn’t even understand the implications. I’d noticed that she’d seemed oblivious to her baby bump and hadn’t rubbed or cupped it with her hand as m
any expectant mothers do. Was it possible she thought she was just growing fat? Although by now – six months – the baby would be moving inside her. I’d talk to her about it once she was living with me: to prepare her was part of my role.

  That evening over dinner I told Adrian, Lucy and Paula about the meeting with Faye, and that I’d be collecting her on Sunday afternoon and was looking for a volunteer to help carry her bags. Adrian said he’d arranged to see Kirsty (his girlfriend) for the day but offered to meet her later so he could help me. There was no need, as both the girls were free and said they would help. After dinner I telephoned my mother as I had been doing every evening since Dad had passed. I always started by asking her how she was and what she’d been doing during the day. Her reply was usually that she’d been tidying up the garden or reading, both of which were solitary pursuits, but perhaps it was still a bit soon to be seeing friends or going on day trips as she and Dad had done. This evening I mentioned that Faye would be coming to live with us for the remainder of her pregnancy. Mum was quite stoical in her response, as Adrian had been. ‘I suppose if she has to give up the baby it’s best done sooner rather than later,’ she said. ‘It will have a good home and be very well loved by the adoptive parents. Does she know the sex of the baby?’

  ‘I don’t know. It wasn’t mentioned,’ I said.

  We chatted for a while longer and then I said I’d like to come and see her on Saturday and suggested we go out for some lunch. She didn’t want to go out, so I said we’d make something there to eat. I didn’t think that Mum was depressed, but she did sound sad sometimes, which was hardly surprising given she’d recently lost Dad. It would obviously take time for her to come to terms with a future without him, just as it would for all of us, and I reminded myself of the maxim that time is a great healer.

  The following day (Friday) I gave Faye’s room a thorough clean and then I did a large supermarket shop, as I would be out all day Saturday. I knew from the placement information forms that Faye had no special dietary requirements, so I stocked up with a range of nutritious foods as well as some treats – biscuits, ice cream, crisps – which I think are fine in moderation. Since I’d learnt that I’d be fostering Faye, I’d been giving some thought to the differences between fostering children and teenagers, and an adult with a learning disability. Many aspects seemed similar – for example, the care and support I would give her – but as an adult Faye had a right to make her own decisions as much as possible, which would help maintain and develop her self-confidence and independence. Yet, while I’d had plenty of experience fostering children and teenagers, and the benefit of ongoing training, Faye was my first adult placement. Edith must have been thinking the same, because shortly after I returned home from shopping she telephoned.

  ‘Cathy, I’ve been looking to see if there is any training that you might find useful, but we don’t seem to offer an awful lot specifically for fostering adults. There’s a two-day introductory course, but the next session isn’t for another eight weeks, which is going to be a bit late to help you. There is some information on the internet, though. I’ve sent you some links, and if you have any questions or concerns, you can always telephone Becky. She’s highly experienced in adult social care.’

  ‘Thank you, I will.’

  So that evening I went online and, using Edith’s links and a search engine, I learnt quite a bit about foster care provision for adults. At present there are over 10,000 adult fostering placements in England; half of those are living in permanent placements. The ages of the adults fostered ranged from eighteen to over sixty, with three-quarters of the adults having a learning disability, and the others a physical disability or mental health problems. Schemes for fostering adults appeared to vary widely in different parts of the country, with some areas offering far more than others. The big advantage for the care receiver was that they could live with and be part of a family rather than in a care home. I learnt that the process for applying to foster adults was very similar to that of fostering children, with an assessment carried out by a social worker, references, a police check (now known as Disclosure and Barring Service), a health check and introductory training. Once the person was with the foster carer, their social worker visited regularly to monitor and support the placement, which was reassuring. While all this was very interesting, there was virtually no practical advice on fostering adults beyond it requiring patience, understanding and a wish to work with vulnerable adults.

  Adrian, Lucy and Paula came with me on Saturday to visit Mum. She lived about an hour’s drive away. They were very quiet in the car, gazing out of their side windows rather than listening to music or chatting. I guessed that they, like me, were finding it difficult going to the house again; our first visit after the funeral, the house that for all their lives had been Nana and Papa’s home but was now just Nana’s. Although we’d already been quite a few times since Dad had passed, it wasn’t getting much easier. Arriving and leaving were the worst, with just Mum greeting us at the door and seeing us off, when it had always been the two of them. Once we were inside it became a little easier and today we all found jobs to do. Adrian cut the grass and then washed the car – my brother was selling it for Mum, as she didn’t drive – while the girls and I helped Mum prepare lunch and lay the table. It was the first time we’d all sat at the dining table since Dad had died; previously, when we’d been there to organize the funeral, we’d had sandwiches and snacks on our laps. Dad always sat in the same place at the head of the table, and ridiculously I left his place empty, which of course emphasized his absence. As we sat down Mum quietly moved her chair into the space.

  ‘That’s better,’ she said, and we all relaxed.

  After lunch I asked Mum if she would like some help clearing out Dad’s clothes, which is a daunting and heartbreaking task. But she said she would do it in her own time and had already made a start. She then produced a gift for each of the children, a memento of their grandpa. His favourite cufflinks for Adrian, an inlaid wooden trinket box for Lucy and his paperweight for Paula, which she’d always admired. Even if they never used the items, they would be treasured as touching personal reminders of Grandpa. I could see the emotion in their faces as they thanked their nana and then kissed and hugged her.

  As usual we were reluctant to leave Mum alone and took a long time parting. Eventually Mum said it would be time for her bath soon and shooed us towards the front door. ‘Phone me to let me know you’re home safely,’ she said as she always did. ‘I hope tomorrow goes well. I’ll look forward to meeting Faye.’

  We got into the car and waved goodbye, each of us trying to adjust to seeing one lone figure in the porch.

  On our return home Sammy was very pleased to see us and shot in through the cat flap as soon as he heard our voices in the hall. He was a short-haired cat of mixed breed with distinctive black-and-white markings and a haughty air about him, despite his past. He’d been living on the streets, presumably since birth, until someone took him to a cat rescue centre. We’d hesitated about having another cat for many years after Toscha had died, feeling that she was irreplaceable, but we were all pleased we’d gone ahead, as I hoped Sammy was too. He’d been quite feral to begin with and hadn’t wanted much to do with us, but now he was gradually accepting our affection, allowing us to stroke him and occasionally sitting on our laps. Although I thought he would always be his own person, and we respected that.

  Before I went to bed that night I checked through the placement information forms Becky had sent me to make sure I hadn’t missed anything important. As we lived in the same National Health Service area as Faye, after the move she would be able to continue going to the same clinic and hospital she’d already been attending. I made a note to remember to make sure she brought her maternity folder with her, otherwise I’d have to go back for it, as it had to be taken to all her antenatal appointments. I also made a note to remember Snuggles, although I thought Faye wasn’t likely to forget him. I knew from what Becky had told me that
Faye had lived with her grandparents since the age of two when her mother had died from liver failure, assumed to be a result of alcoholism. The problems that had led to Faye’s mother drinking herself to death weren’t known, and Faye’s father had never been named. Faye had an uncle (Wilma and Stan’s son) and two adult cousins, but they seldom saw them. The son had done well for himself and had moved out of the area. Satisfied I knew what I needed to, I closed the folder and went to bed.

  The following morning Adrian was up before the rest of us, as he was going out for the day with Kirsty. We had breakfast together and I saw him off at the door in my dressing gown, then the girls and I had a leisurely morning. After lunch, at 1.30, we left in the car to collect Faye. Although Faye knew what my family looked like from the photographs, my family had no idea what she looked like, which is often the case when a move is planned and the child has seen the photograph album. As I drove I tried to describe Faye to Paula and Lucy. ‘She’s about five feet two inches tall, softly spoken, with a pleasant, round face and straight hair. She looks and acts much younger than her age, but she appears gentle and kind.’ They already knew Faye had learning difficulties and lived with her grandparents. ‘She might want to hug you,’ I said. ‘She likes hugging.’

  It was just as well I’d said this, for Faye answered the door, took one look at me and threw her arms around me in a big hug. ‘I’m coming to stay with you like a holiday,’ she said. She appeared excited by the prospect and I was pleased. She could easily have been upset at having to leave her grandparents.

  ‘Yes, you are!’ I said, mirroring her excitement. ‘We’re looking forward to having you stay with us. This is Lucy and Paula, my daughters. You remember you saw their photographs? You’ll meet my son Adrian later.’

  ‘Hello,’ she said, now a little shy. ‘Are you going to be my sisters while I live with you?’

  ‘Yes, we are,’ Lucy said.

  Faye smiled broadly and then threw her arms around Lucy, hugging her, and then Paula. They looked slightly embarrassed, but I could see they were touched by Faye’s easy and open display of affection, and her lack of adult inhibition made their first meeting much easier.