by Cathy Glass
‘Thanks. It will be my best Christmas ever!’
It was half a year until Christmas, but I’d found before that many young people from deprived backgrounds who’d never experienced the joys of Christmas as children look forward to the occasion immensely, wanting to create the magic they’d missed out on as children.
Shelley and I chatted for a while longer and then we made an arrangement for her and Darrel to come for lunch the following week.
The children and I quickly relaxed into the holiday routine; they got up later and often had breakfast in their pyjamas before they washed and dressed. I continued rising at my usual time, which allowed me to put the finishing touches to my dissertation so I didn’t have to work on it during the day and could play with them. With a combination of days out and time spent at home, the first week of the school holiday quickly disappeared. Shelley and Darrel came for lunch the following Tuesday and after lunch we went to the local park. She reminded me again about the Christmas concert, and she also talked about the choir, specifically about a lad in the choir who was a couple of years older than her. Did I detect a sparkle in her eyes and a quickness to her breath every time she mentioned his name? I didn’t embarrass her by asking. Shelley also mentioned that with Darrel starting school in September she was hoping to find a job, preferably part-time to fit in with school hours, and she’d signed up for a return-to-work programme at the employment centre, which was all very positive.
On Wednesday two significant events occurred, both of which gave me much relief. I finished my dissertation and sent it off. And Laura came home. Having not seen or heard from Gina since school broke up, I didn’t know exactly when she was coming home, so it was a lovely surprise when I picked up the telephone to hear Laura say, ‘Hi, Cathy, I thought you’d like to know that I’m home.’
‘Wonderful! I am pleased. Great to have you back.’
‘Thanks. It’s great to be back. I was discharged yesterday. Mum’s going home on Friday, so I was wondering if you and the children could come over tomorrow to say goodbye. We’ll have some cake and coffee.’
‘I’d love to, thank you. What time?’
‘Shall we say after lunch – about two o’clock?’
‘That’s fine with me. I’ll look forward to it.’
‘See you then.’
We said goodbye and I hung up.
Should I have asked Laura how she was feeling? I would have done had she been suffering from a physical illness – how is your leg/stomach/arm/back? Are you feeling better? But that awkwardness that can surround mental illness had got in the way. It was silly of me really, because Laura had been very open with me when she’d been ill, but now I felt that maybe she would want to forget it, put the past behind her and move on, and would be embarrassed if I mentioned it. I’d play it by ear the following day and ask her how she was feeling if it seemed appropriate and she wanted to talk about it.
When I told the children that Laura and Liam were home and we were going to see them the next day they were pleased.
‘Kim will be so happy to have her mummy back,’ Adrian said.
‘Baby Liam home!’ Paula cried, delighted.
Having now finished my dissertation there was no reason why I shouldn’t put my name on the whiteboard again to foster, so I telephoned the social services and said I was available. They must have written my name on the board straight away, for no more than thirty minutes later Samson’s social worker telephoned and asked if I could look after him for respite the following week, from Monday morning to Wednesday evening. I said I could. Sometimes a carer only looks after a child once on respite, or it can become a regular arrangement to give the main caregiver, in this case Samson’s grandmother, a break.
‘Thanks, Cathy,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid Samson’s behaviour hasn’t improved since the last time you saw him. His gran is really struggling now he’s off school for the holidays. We arranged a play scheme for him to go to, but he got excluded in the first week – for knocking another child unconscious, although he said it was an accident. I hope you can cope.’
So do I, I thought.
Chapter Seventeen
Progress
The following day I bought a bunch of flowers to give to Laura as a welcome-home gift.
‘Thank you so much,’ she said, smiling and kissing my cheek as we went in. ‘My house is starting to look like a florist. Lovely to see you all again. Hi, Adrian, Paula.’
Kim was standing in the hall just behind her mother and smiling broadly. Gina appeared too. ‘Hi, gang!’ she called. ‘Come on in. I’ll put those flowers in water, they’re beautiful. You see to Cathy and I’ll put the kettle on.’
Laura smiled, passed the flowers to her mother and we followed her down the hall into the living room. Liam was sitting contentedly in his bouncing cradle, wide awake and playing with the mobile attached to the cradle, tapping the brightly coloured toys so that they rattled and spun. Paula went straight over to him and, kneeling down, said cutely, ‘Baby Liam home.’ Which made us smile.
Kim and Adrian stood by, looking slightly awkward. ‘Can Adrian and I play in the garden?’ Kim asked her mother.
‘Yes, of course, love. We’ll bring out some drinks and cakes shortly.’
They shot out of the patio doors, eager to be outside. ‘Everyone has been so kind,’ Laura now said to me, waving to the flowers and cards arranged around the room. The giant get-well card from school was propped by the hearth, and four smaller get-well cards stood on the mantelpiece between two vases of flowers. Another larger arrangement of flowers was in one corner of the room on a small occasional table. ‘Those are from Andy, Kim and Liam,’ she said. ‘And those on the mantelpiece are from Mum and Geraldine.’
‘Beautiful,’ I said. ‘You can never have too many flowers. Your garden’s looking good too.’
‘Thanks.’ We both looked towards the garden. ‘Andy cut the grass at the weekend ready for my homecoming, and Mum’s been weeding. I was out there this morning too. I’ll soon have it back to normal.’
‘It looks really nice,’ I said.
Gina appeared briefly at the door of the living room carrying my flowers in a vase. ‘Shall I put these in the front room?’ she asked Laura. ‘We haven’t any in there.’
‘Yes please, Mum. Do you want any help in the kitchen?’
‘No, you chat with Cathy.’
‘Shall we sit in the garden?’ Laura asked me.
‘Yes, I love being outside.’
‘Me too.’ Laura went over to Liam and Paula. ‘Let’s take Liam in the garden, shall we?’ she said to Paula. Paula nodded shyly, and then came over and held my hand.
We went out onto the decking. A white wrought-iron garden table with four matching chairs stood under a sun umbrella.
‘This is perfect,’ I said.
Laura smiled. ‘We’re using it a lot this year. Making the most of every day of sunshine.’ Vibrant, happy, at ease with herself and others, I could see a huge improvement in Laura even in the few weeks since I’d visited at Everley.
She placed Liam’s cradle in the shade of the sun umbrella and Paula squatted down beside him. Laura and I sat on the two chairs facing the garden so we could keep an eye on Kim and Adrian, who’d begun a game of children’s croquet.
‘It’s a beautiful day,’ Laura said, taking in a deep breath of fresh summer air. ‘Just right. Warm, but with a slight breeze. I’m learning to appreciate the present rather than worry about the future or the past.’
‘You look very well,’ I said, feeling comfortable saying this, given her last comment.
‘I’m getting there,’ she said, gazing down the garden. ‘They told me at Everley that it would take time and I shouldn’t rush myself. But I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now. It’s difficult to describe what it’s like if you haven’t been there. A bit like swimming up through layers of murky water, slowly reaching the surface. I take it a day at a time. I have some blips, but I’m getting there.’
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‘I suppose that’s true for many illnesses,’ I said.
‘Yes, but with PND (postnatal depression) acknowledging you are ill in the first place is the first big step and part of the recovery process. I now realize that pretending nothing was wrong was the worst thing we could have done. Andy and Geraldine realize that too. It helps so much to have it out in the open so I can talk about how I’m feeling. I know I can ask for help if I need to, instead of trying to be Supermum.’ I looked at Laura and nodded. ‘The support group and the therapist at Everley have helped me enormously,’ she said. ‘And the tablets. I’m on a lower dose now, but I’ll keep taking them for a few more months. The doctor reassured me that eventually I won’t need them and I’ll be my old self – maybe even better!’ She laughed and then leaned slightly over the side of her chair, closer to Paula. ‘You know you don’t have to keep Liam amused,’ she said to her kindly. ‘You can play with your brother and Kim if you like.’ But I could see that Paula was enjoying herself, tapping the mobiles and making Liam chuckle.
‘She’s fine,’ I said.
‘That’s OK then.’ Laura straightened and took another deep breath and gazed down the garden. Clearly she was happy to talk and share her experiences, and I felt comfortable listening. ‘Andy’s been so good,’ she said. ‘Really supportive. Some of the women in the group said that their partners and family weren’t, and gave them the impression that they just had to get over it and it was all in their heads. Which it is, in a way,’ she added with a small laugh. ‘But dismissing how rough you feel only makes it worse. It can drive you mad. When I think back to that terrifying place I go cold. I don’t ever want to be back there again. It was dreadful.’
‘You won’t,’ I said. ‘You will continue to go from strength to strength.’
‘I hope so.’
Gina appeared carrying a tray containing a white bone-china teapot, matching milk jug, side plates, cups and saucers, a jug of lemonade and children’s plastic beakers, which she set on the table.
‘I’ll fetch the cakes,’ Laura said, standing. She went into the kitchen and returned with two plates of the most delicious-looking homemade cakes: a jam-and-cream-filled sponge and a selection of iced and decorated cupcakes.
‘Someone’s been busy,’ I said. ‘They look gorgeous.’
‘It’s Mum,’ Laura said, smiling at her mother.
‘I used to love baking when Laura was at home,’ Gina said. ‘It’s nice to have a reason to do it again.’
Kim and Adrian had spotted the arrival of the cake and now ran up the garden. Laura gave them a plate each and they helped themselves to a cupcake and she poured the lemonade. Paula chose a cupcake and I put it on a plate for her and then helped her sit on the doorstep where Adrian and Kim were comfortably perched with their plates on their laps and the beakers of lemonade beside them. At four months old Liam wasn’t ready for cake and lemonade yet, but he seemed very interested in what everyone else was eating. Laura poured the tea and I chose a slice of sponge cake.
‘Hmm, delicious,’ I said as I took the first bite.
‘I’m glad you like it,’ Gina said. ‘I’ve made you one to take home, to say thank you for all you’ve done.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’ I was really touched. ‘It’s so light. It melts in your mouth.’
‘The secret is in the whisking,’ Gina said. ‘The more you whisk the lighter the sponge. I’ll let you have the recipe, if you like.’
We continued talking as we ate the cake and sipped our tea. It was a perfect English summer scene – ideal weather with tea and cake on the decking. When the children had finished the three of them went down the garden to play, while Laura, Gina and I drank a second cup of tea and chatted. Gina said she was sorry to be leaving, but she had to get back to work. She said how much she’d enjoyed taking Kim to and from school and being part of the family, but she knew Andy and Laura needed time alone now to get back to normal family life. ‘They know where I am if I’m needed,’ she said. ‘And of course I’ll be visiting at weekends.’
We stayed for nearly two hours, during which time Laura gave Liam his bottle and Paula held him for a while – seated on the lawn with Laura and me on either side of her to stop Liam rolling off. When it was time to leave, Gina presented me with the sponge cake in an airtight container, which I said I’d return, and a copy of the recipe. Then they all saw us off at the door, Laura with Liam in her arms. I’d already told Laura I hoped she and the children would visit us in the summer holidays, and she said she’d phone me. It was sad saying goodbye to Gina. Although I hadn’t known her for very long, we’d shared quite a journey together through Laura’s illness and recovery, and I liked her feisty manner. She was someone I would have continued a friendship with had she lived closer, but fostering had shown me that sadly life is full of goodbyes. ‘I hope to see you again one time when you visit Laura,’ I said. ‘Take care.’
‘You too, Cathy.’ We kissed and hugged goodbye.
I took Adrian and Paula swimming on Saturday and then on Sunday we met my parents at a well-known beauty spot where we had a picnic lunch. Monday loomed and with it Samson. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have reservations about him staying, especially after his social worker’s comment about his behaviour having not improved (read: deteriorated). While his previous stay had gone reasonably well, it had been very hard work. I’d had to keep him occupied the whole time and have eyes in the back of my head to ensure he wasn’t getting up to mischief. I wasn’t the only one with misgivings.
‘Can’t we have Darrel to stay instead?’ Adrian asked when I told him Samson was coming.
‘Fostering doesn’t work like that, love,’ I said. ‘We look after children who need a home. Darrel is fine with his mother and I’m sure we’ll see them again. But Samson’s grandma needs a rest from looking after him.’
‘I’m not surprised!’ Adrian said, already developing a dry sense of humour.
‘I hope that dog isn’t there,’ Adrian said anxiously the following morning as we clambered into the car to go and collect Samson.
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured him. ‘I’ll make sure Bruno is shut away before we go into the flat. I don’t want to be eaten any more than you do.’ He managed a small smile.
Paula, that much younger, appeared unperturbed by Samson’s visit, but of course at her age she was largely unaware of the problems associated with his visit, or of how much effort and constant supervision it took to keep everyone safe while he was with us.
As it turned out Bruno didn’t pose a threat, because we didn’t have to go into Samson’s flat. As we walked up the path to the main entrance of the flats, Paula holding my hand and Adrian snuggled in close behind me using me as a shield, the net curtain at the open downstairs window of Samson’s flat was suddenly and roughly yanked aside. Samson’s cheeky face grinned at us. ‘They’re here!’ he yelled at the top of his voice over his shoulder. Then, pushing the window as wide open as it would go, he put one leg over and began to clamber out. His backpack got caught on the hinge of the window and he was stuck half in and half out. ‘Someone help me!’ he yelled dramatically. ‘I can’t get out!’ Adrian and Paula laughed and I smiled. He did look comical.
‘Hi, Samson,’ I said, going over. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m bleedin’ stuck,’ he said, pulling against the straps and trying to free himself.
‘All right. Hold still and I’ll get you unstuck.’ I unhooked the strap from the hinge and he jumped clear. Bruno barked loudly from somewhere inside the flat and Adrian looked concerned.
‘Bye, Bruno!’ Samson yelled at the top of his voice. ‘Shut your face up!’ He went over to Adrian. ‘Hello, mate, how are you?’ he asked, clapping him on the back.
‘I’m all right,’ Adrian said, putting on a brave face.
‘Where’s your gran?’ I asked Samson. ‘We need to say goodbye to her.’ I could hardly just go without letting her know; surely she’d wonder where Samson was?
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bsp; ‘She’s in there,’ he said, referring to the lounge he’d just clambered out of.
I returned to the window and pulled aside the net curtain. I could see her sitting on the sofa in her dressing gown with her legs stretched out in front of her, a plate of toast on her lap and a mug of tea in her hand. She was watching television.
‘We’re going now,’ I said. ‘I’ll bring Samson back at six o’clock on Wednesday.’
‘Thanks, dear,’ she said, without taking her eyes from the television. And that was it.
‘How have you been?’ I asked Samson as we began towards my car.
‘Better since school finished,’ he said, grinning. ‘No hassle from the teachers and no work!’ Adrian grinned too.
‘So what have you been doing in the holidays?’ I asked him, making conversation.
‘I dunno.’ He shrugged. ‘Watching telly, PlayStation, I guess. And getting on Gran’s nerves.’ I laughed. You couldn’t help but like him, he was such a character.
‘So what would you like to do while you’re with us?’ I asked him as I unlocked the car and opened the rear door. ‘Any suggestions?’
‘Sports day,’ he said, climbing in. ‘Like we did before. I’ve been practising since I knew I was coming to you, so no one can beat me. I was good then, but I’m even better now. And I’ve got some prizes for all of us in me bag.’
‘Have you?’ I asked, surprised and touched. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘They’re me toys I don’t want, so we can have ’em as prizes. I know you gave us some before, but we need lots and lots.’
‘OK. That’s nice. We’ll use them as prizes, but then you must take them home with you afterwards,’ I said. ‘They are yours.’ I helped Paula into her car seat as the boys fastened their safety belts.
‘Nah. You can keep ’em,’ Samson said. ‘I don’t want ’em. Me dad gave ’em to me, so I ain’t bothered.’ Which I thought was strange. Usually gifts from an absent parent are valued and treasured.
I fastened Paula in her car seat, checked the boys’ belts, and then closed the rear door.