Cathy Glass - The Silent Cry - There is little Kim can do as her mother's mental health spirals out of control

I checked on Shelley again, but she was still fast asleep. If necessary I could leave her sleeping and take Darrel with me when I collected Adrian from school, but that wasn’t for another hour. When Darrel and Paula had tired of the Play-Doh we packed it away and I showed Darrel the toy cupboard and let him choose something else to play with. He picked a jigsaw puzzle of a farmyard scene and I took out an early-years puzzle for Paula. The three of us sat at the table assembling the puzzles. When Darrel had completed his I praised him and he packed it away and took out another one. Five minutes later I heard the door to the living room open and then Shelley came in carrying her empty glass of water. ‘How are you feeling, love?’ I said. Darrel looked at her anxiously.

‘A bit better now, thanks,’ she said, trying to raise a smile. ‘I need to take a couple more paracetamol. Can I have another glass of water, please?’

‘Yes, of course. Sit down. I’ll get it.’

She sat at the table and as I poured the water I could see Darrel looking at her anxiously. It’s difficult for a child to see their usually strong parent compromised and vulnerable. ‘That’s a good puzzle,’ she said, trying to divert his attention. ‘See if you can finish it before we go.’

I handed her the glass of water and she took two tablets. ‘Could you manage something to eat now?’ I asked. ‘Soup? I could break up some bread to put in. That would be easy to eat.’

‘Oh, yes, please,’ she said gratefully. ‘I couldn’t have anything before the operation and I am hungry. But are you sure I’m not keeping you?’

‘Not at all. I don’t have to collect Adrian for three-quarters of an hour, and you’re more than welcome to stay here while I get him. I can take you home in the car after.’

‘The doctor said I mustn’t have anything too hot,’ she added as I went into the kitchen. ‘Because of the stitches.’

‘Stitches?’ Darrel asked, worried.

‘Yes, to help make my mouth get better,’ Shelley said, reassuring him.

She sat at the table and watched the children playing as I warmed some cream of tomato soup, buttered some bread and cut it into small chunks to dunk in the soup. I carried it through and set in on the table with a spoon.

‘Thank you,’ Shelley said again. ‘You are kind to me.’ Bless her, I thought. She was such a sweet kid. I wished I could have done more for her.

I played with the children while she ate, and once she’d finished she thanked me again and then to my horror said: ‘I feel well enough to go and get the bus now.’

‘There’s no way you’re going home on the bus,’ I said, dismayed. ‘If you don’t want to wait until I return from collecting Adrian, when I can take you in the car, then I’ll call a cab.’

‘I’d really like to get home and get settled, and then have an early night,’ she said, which I could understand.

‘OK, I’ll call a cab then,’ I said, standing. Without waiting for further protest I went to the phone in the living room and booked the cab with a lady driver, then, returning to Shelley, I gave her money for the fare. Needless to say, she thanked me profusely.

While Shelley stayed with the children I quickly went round the house gathering together Darrel’s belongings and packing them into his bags, which I put in the hall. Fifteen minutes later the cab arrived and the driver helped Shelley with the bags while I took Darrel and Paula to the car. Shelley and Darrel climbed into the rear of the cab and Shelley fastened their seatbelts. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said again.

‘You’re welcome, love. Take care.’

‘Say goodbye and thank you to Cathy,’ she told Darrel.

‘Bye, and thank you,’ he said adorably.

‘We’ve all enjoyed having you to stay,’ I said.

‘Thanks for everything, and thank Adrian for playing with Darrel,’ Shelley said.

‘I will.’

I closed the cab door and Paula and I waved until the cab was out of sight. Although Darrel was obviously pleased to be going home, Paula looked sad. But goodbyes are part of fostering, and it was important that Paula was included in this, for a good farewell is as important as welcoming a child when they first arrive. Yet I’ll admit I felt sad too. Even if a child is only with you a short while, as Darrel had been, they touch your life and you don’t forget them. I would remember Darrel and Shelley in the years to come and wonder how they were doing. If I saw them again then that would be a huge bonus, but it couldn’t be guaranteed, and as a foster carer I had to accept that.

I returned indoors with Paula and then it was time to collect Adrian from school. I persuaded her into the stroller with the promise that she could walk some of the way back. As we waited in the playground I saw Geraldine arrive in good time and then as usual stand alone, separate from the other parents, as she waited for school to end. The Klaxon sounded and Adrian ran out amid the hubbub and excitement of Friday afternoon and the start of the weekend. But as he neared I could see him looking for Darrel.

‘He’s just gone home with his mother,’ I said. ‘They said to say goodbye and thank you for looking after Darrel.’

‘Oh, OK,’ he said. ‘Pity I couldn’t have said goodbye.’

‘I know.’ Then I distracted him by talking about the busy weekend we had coming up. We were going to visit my parents on Saturday and then Adrian had been invited to a friend’s football birthday party on Sunday. I reminded him that the present needed wrapping and the card had to be written and suggested we did it that evening.

Once we’d crossed the road and entered our street I let Paula out of the stroller. There was no sign of Geraldine and Kim ahead of or behind us. Perhaps they’d stopped off at the shop. However, as we passed number 53 I saw that their front door was wide open. I glanced in but couldn’t see anyone in the hall. We continued our slow, faltering walk past and then a few steps further up I heard a loud bang as a door slammed shut behind me. I instinctively turned. A middle-aged man in a suit and tie was storming down the front garden path of Laura’s house. He was clearly annoyed – his face was set and his body tense as he thrust a fob at the car parked in the kerb outside their house. He jumped in, immediately started the engine and the car tyres screeched as it pulled away and sped past us.

‘That car’s going far too fast,’ Adrian remarked.

‘Yes, it is,’ I agreed.

I had no idea what Laura’s husband looked like – I barely knew her – and if it was her husband and they’d had an argument then it was none of my business. Or was it? How many neighbours when interviewed after a tragic domestic incident exonerate themselves by saying that the family seemed pleasant but kept themselves to themselves. I already had some concerns about Laura, and perhaps as a result of fostering and having to piece together snippets of information from children who were trying to tell me what they had been through (they rarely tell the full story all in one go), I’d become more adept at looking at the wider picture. But on the other hand you can’t jump to conclusions and phone the social services just because you have a suspicion that all is not well in a family. You need some evidence.

Half an hour later, after we’d arrived home, the telephone rang. I wasn’t thinking about Laura at that moment and I didn’t make the connection when I heard a female voice say rather loudly, ‘Is that Cathy?’

‘Yes?’ I said tentatively.

‘You don’t recognize me, do you? It’s Laura from number 53.’

‘Oh, hello. How are you?’ I was completely thrown. It didn’t sound like her at all.

‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Really good. I thought I’d give you a ring. Do you remember you left your phone number with my mother-in-law and said to phone for a chat?’