Cathy Glass - The Night the Angels Came

Giving another small nod Michael turned and went off to tell Adrian and Paula. A few moments later the three of them came into the kitchen/diner. As they entered I heard Michael telling Adrian and Paula that his dad was getting better and he would be phoning later. While Michael probably understood that his use of the phrase ‘getting better’ referred to a temporary remission in an otherwise poor prognosis, I wondered if Paula and Adrian might assume Patrick was now making a full recovery, for in their limited experience of illness people who were sick got better.

I was right. ‘Michael’s daddy is getting better,’ Paula announced as we sat at the table to eat. ‘He’s not going to die.’

‘Not yet,’ Michael put in quickly, which saved me from a very difficult and painful conversation.

I looked at him with a reassuring smile. He returned my smile, the tension having eased a little from his face. Even if Patrick’s remission was only temporary, like Michael I rejoiced in it, and there was always hope. ‘We’ll have a nice weekend,’ I said to him. ‘What would you like to do?’

Michael looked thoughtful for a second and then asked quietly, ‘Can we go swimming? I used to go swimming every Saturday with my dad but he hasn’t been well enough this year.’

‘Yes,’ I said, pleased that he was showing enthusiasm, and honoured that I was being allowed to take over an activity that had hitherto been one he did with his dad. ‘That sounds good to me.’ Adrian and Paula were nodding in agreement. ‘We’ll go on Saturday morning,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose Stella will be bringing your swimming shorts so I’ll buy another pair while you’re at school tomorrow. You’re the same size as Adrian.’

Michael smiled again, his blue eyes creasing at the corners exactly as Patrick’s did. ‘Thanks, Cathy. Is that what I call you? Or is it Mrs Glass?’

‘Cathy’s fine,’ I said as Adrian and Paula sniggered, but not unkindly.

I’m pleased to say that Michael ate well and once dinner was finished he played with Adrian and Paula while I cleared away. At 6.45 when the doorbell rang I guessed it was Stella. The children stopped playing and joined me in the hall as I opened the front door.

‘What a welcoming committee!’ Stella said, laughing. ‘How are you all?’

‘Good,’ the children chorused.

Stella hadn’t met Adrian and Paula before, so I introduced them as she carried a large canvas holdall into the hall.

‘That’s my bag,’ Michael said, a little surprised. It must have seemed strange to him seeing his bag arrive in my hall, although he knew Stella was bringing him a change of clothes.

‘Yes,’ Stella said. ‘Your dad told me where to find it and the things you need. I think I’ve remembered everything. Your neighbour, Mrs Harvey, let me into your house and she sends her love. Her husband, Jack, wasn’t there, but he sends his love too. He was visiting your dad.’

‘So why can’t I visit Dad?’ Michael asked.

Stella glanced at me. ‘I have explained,’ I said. We were still standing in the hall. ‘Shall we go through to the sitting room?’ I suggested.

‘Just for a few minutes,’ Stella said. ‘It’s getting late and I have to write a report for tomorrow when I get home.’

We went into the sitting room. Michael sat on the sofa between Adrian and Paula, and Stella squatted on the floor in front of them as she spoke. She explained, as I had, that Patrick had said there was no need for Michael to visit as he was only in hospital for the weekend. Also, as I had done, Stella omitted the other reason for Patrick not wanting Michael to visit: that seeing him looking so poorly and surrounded by other very sick people would be unnecessarily upsetting for Michael. Seated in a line on the sofa all three children nodded as Stella spoke and Stella ended up addressing them all.

‘Your dad is phoning later,’ Stella concluded, looking at Michael. ‘Visiting ends at seven thirty, so I guess once Jack has gone your dad will phone. There’s a portable payphone on the ward. I don’t think you’re allowed to use a mobile in hospital.’

The children nodded and Paula took Michael’s hand between hers and patted it, as I did hers when she was worried. ‘Your dad has a portable payphone,’ she reassured him. Then looking at Stella, asked, ‘What’s a portable payphone?’

‘It’s a phone that can be moved around the ward so that all the patients can use it,’ Stella explained.

‘That’s good, isn’t it, Michael?’ Paula said. ‘All the patients use it.’

Michael smiled indulgently and nodded. He was very good with Paula, especially I thought as he didn’t have any brothers or sisters of his own.

‘Well, I can see you’re being well looked after,’ Stella said, straightening as she got up from the floor. ‘Your dad is doing fine, so try not to worry. He’s assuming you’ll be going to school as usual tomorrow.’ Michael nodded. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else I’ll be going.’ Stella paused, allowing Michael the chance to think of anything he wanted to ask, but he didn’t. ‘All right, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll phone Cathy on Monday to confirm that your dad is out of hospital.’

Michael nodded and then said cheerfully, ‘We’re going swimming on Saturday, like I used to with my dad.’

‘Fantastic,’ Stella said. ‘You have a lovely weekend, and don’t worry about your dad: he’s being very well looked after.’

She said goodbye to the children and we left them sitting on the sofa as I saw Stella to the front door. We could hear Adrian and Michael telling each other of the daring diving stunts they were going to perform when we went swimming, while Paula, less sure of the water, sat quietly listening.

‘It’ll do Michael good to have a weekend away from all the responsibility,’ Stella confided as I saw her out. ‘I haven’t seen him look so excited about anything in a long while. Usually all his talk is of his dad’s medication – which tablets he has to take and when. This will give him a complete break and a chance to be a child again. Thanks for all you’re doing.’

‘There’s no need to thank me,’ I said, embarrassed. ‘Michael’s a lovely lad. I just wish I was looking after him in different circumstances.’

Stella nodded. ‘So do I, Cathy. So do I. It’s all so very sad.’

Having seen Stella out I returned to the sitting room and announced it was Paula’s bedtime. ‘School and nursery tomorrow,’ I reminded them, ‘so no one is going to be very late.’ Adrian and Michael pulled a face. ‘Boys,’ I continued, ‘once Paula is clear of the bathroom and is in bed, I would like you two to start getting ready. Adrian is usually in bed at eight on a school night,’ I added, addressing Michael.

‘So am I,’ Michael admitted, ‘but what if my dad phones when I’m in bed?’

‘I’ll get you up. Don’t worry, you will speak to your dad when he phones: of course you will. I’ll take your bag up now and put it in your room. Paula, say goodnight to Adrian and Michael.’

‘Good night,’ she said reluctantly, not wanting to leave them. She stood and offered her cheek for kissing – first to Adrian as she usually did, and then to Michael, who gave her a little peck.

‘Good girl,’ I said.

She came over and gave a little wave. ‘Night, night,’ she called as we left the sitting room.

‘Night,’ the boys chorused behind us. ‘Sleep tight. Sweet dreams,’ Michael added, which I guessed was probably what his father said to him at night.

Upstairs, I put Michael’s holdall in his room and then ran Paula’s bath, all the while listening out for the phone. It was 7.15 and Stella had said she thought Patrick would phone at the end of visiting time – about 7.30. I hoped he didn’t leave it too late as, in my experience, children can become very fretful, with worries and sadness escalating if they become over-tired. Problems and anxieties always seem more manageable in the morning after a good night’s sleep. Fortunately at 7.45, just as I was tucking Paula into bed, the phone rang.