Cathy Glass - Can I Let You Go?

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Can I Let You Go? is the true story of Faye, a wonderful young woman who may never be able to parent her unborn child.Faye is 24, pregnant, and has learning difficulties as a result of her mother’s alcoholism. Faye is gentle, childlike and vulnerable, and normally lives with her grandparents, both of whom have mobility problems. Cathy and her children welcome Faye into their home and hearts. The care plan is for Faye to stay with Cathy until after the birth when she will return home and the baby will go for adoption. Given that Faye never goes out alone it is something of a mystery how she ever became pregnant and Faye says it’s a secret.To begin with Faye won’t acknowledge she is pregnant or talk about the changes in her body as she worries it will upset her grandparents, but after her social worker assures her she can talk to Cathy she opens up. However, this leads to Faye realizing just how much she will lose and she changes her mind and says she wants to keep her baby.Is it possible Faye could learn enough to parent her child? Cathy believes it is, and Faye’s social worker is obliged to give Faye the chance.

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Copyright Certain details in this story including names places and dates - фото 1

Copyright

Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the children.

HarperElement

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published by HarperElement 2016

FIRST EDITION

© Cathy Glass 2016

A catalogue record of this book is

available from the British Library

Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2016

Cover photograph © plainpicture/Westend61/Valentina Barreto (posed by models)

Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be

identified as the author of this work

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Find out about HarperCollins and the environment at

www.harpercollins.co.uk/green

Source ISBN: 9780008153748

Ebook Edition © September 2016 ISBN: 9780008156602

Version: 2016-08-03

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter One: Hope for the Future?

Chapter Two: Faye and Snuggles

Chapter Three: Not Stupid

Chapter Four: In Denial

Chapter Five: Best Outcome

Chapter Six: Vulnerable

Chapter Seven: Compromise

Chapter Eight: Don’t Want to Hurt Them

Chapter Nine: Innocent Remarks

Chapter Ten: Change of Heart

Chapter Eleven: Anniversary

Chapter Twelve: ‘Good Enough’ Parenting

Chapter Thirteen: A Sense of Occasion

Chapter Fourteen: Unethical

Chapter Fifteen: Optimistic

Chapter Sixteen: Teaching Faye

Chapter Seventeen: An ‘Off Day’

Chapter Eighteen: Excited and Concerned

Chapter Nineteen: Baby Edward

Chapter Twenty: Second Thoughts

Chapter Twenty-One: An Impossible Decision

Chapter Twenty-Two: Saying Goodbye

Chapter Twenty-Three: A Revelation

Chapter Twenty-Four: A Loving Legacy

Epilogue

Suggested topics for reading-group discussion

Cathy Glass

If you loved this book …

Moving Memoirs eNewsletter

About the Publisher

Acknowledgements

A big thank you to my family; my editors, Carolyn and Holly; my literary agent, Andrew; my UK publishers HarperCollins, and my overseas publishers who are now too numerous to list by name. Last, but definitely not least, a big thank you to my readers for your unfailing support and kind words. They are much appreciated.

Dedication

To Faye.

I’m a better person for knowing you.

Chapter One

Hope for the Future?

‘Are you sure you are going to be all right alone tonight?’ I asked Mum again.

‘Yes, love. Don’t you worry about me,’ she replied, putting on a brave face. ‘Phone to let me know you are home safely.’

‘I will,’ I said. But I didn’t move. My children, Adrian, Lucy and Paula, were standing beside me, their expressions sad and serious as they shared my concerns. We were standing in the front porch of Mum’s house, trying to say goodbye, but it was very difficult. We were the last to go and would be leaving her alone.

‘I could stay with you tonight, Nana,’ Paula offered as she had done before, indeed as we all had.

‘No, thank you, love,’ Mum said. ‘That’s kind of you, but I’ll have to get used to being by myself. I’ll see you all again soon. Now off you go home. It’s been a long day for us all. I’ll watch a bit of television and then after you’ve phoned I’ll have an early night.’

None of us looked convinced, but clearly Mum wasn’t going to change her mind about one of us staying, and we had to respect her decision.

‘We’ll phone as soon as we’re home,’ I said. I kissed and hugged her again and then stepped out of the porch so that Adrian, Lucy and Paula could hug and kiss her goodbye too.

It was a dark night with no moon, but the porch lamp cast a little oasis of light over our departing group. The air was cool, it was late September, but at least it had stayed dry all day, for certainly heavy rain and dark storm clouds would have added to our gloom and misery. I took the few steps to my car parked on the drive and unlocked the doors, but I didn’t get in. I stood beside the car, watching Mum until my children had finished saying their goodbyes and had come over to join me. I still call them children, although they were young adults now: Adrian, twenty-two, Lucy, twenty and Paula, eighteen.

‘Don’t forget to lock the front door,’ I called to Mum. I’d already checked the back doors.

‘I won’t, dear, don’t you worry about me.’

I gave a small nod and the children and I climbed into the car and lowered our windows ready to wave as we departed. I started the engine and then slowly reversed off the drive as Mum stood in the porch waving and we waved back. How many times had we done this? I couldn’t begin to guess, for we saw my parents often, usually with the children we fostered. Mum and Dad would stand side by side in the porch, waving and smiling and already looking forward to our next visit, as we did theirs. But now our departure was restrained and a little muted, for it was just Mum seeing us off, bravely. And it would only ever be Mum in the future, for sadly my dear dad had died suddenly three weeks before, and today had been his funeral.

Once we were out of sight of the house we wound up our windows and I drove steadily and in silence towards our home. The children were silent too. Each of us deep in thought, doubtless thinking of the good, kind man who was no longer with us and the huge gap his passing had left in our lives. Although my father had been in his eighties he’d been in fine health, so it had come as a terrible shock when my brother telephoned my mobile to say he had died. Completely unexpected and a huge loss. The end had been very quick, if that was any consolation. His heart just stopped. He went into his garden to do some weeding and Mum looked through the window and saw him sitting on the damp grass, which she thought odd. She went out and he said her name once and then lay down on his side and closed his eyes, and that was it. She ran indoors, telephoned for an ambulance and then covered him with a blanket to keep him warm. She sat beside him holding his hand and talking to him, while knowing in her heart of hearts that he had probably already passed. When the ambulance arrived there was nothing they could do. He’d died of a massive heart attack.

‘I hope he could hear me tell him how much I loved him,’ Mum had said to me.

‘He knew,’ I told her.

‘At least he didn’t suffer,’ Mum said, grasping at this small platitude to try to ease her pain.

‘Yes,’ I agreed. Although it hadn’t helped much in the early days when our grief had been raw.

Dad was well respected in their village, and at his funeral the church had been full of mourners wanting to say their last goodbyes. A loving husband and a devoted father and grandfather, the reverend who’d led the service had said. He’d known Dad personally. My brother and Adrian had read out tributes too, touching and personal.

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