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

‘Say hi to your mum,’ I said.

‘I will.’

With another smile she ran back up the path to her grandmother, who’d now opened the front door and was waiting just inside, ready to close it. I smiled at her but she didn’t return the gesture, and as soon as Kim was inside she closed the door. With her short grey hair and unsmiling features Geraldine came across as stern. I was slightly surprised by her coldness, and it crossed my mind that she’d very likely seen me that morning through the front-room window and, for whatever reason, had chosen to ignore me.

I saw Geraldine in the playground every day for the rest of that week – in the morning when she took Kim to school, and in the afternoon when she collected her – but she didn’t acknowledge me or make any attempt to start a conversation. Neither did she have anything to do with any of the other parents waiting in the playground, which was unusual. It was a relatively small school, and friendly, so that eventually most people started chatting to someone as they waited for their children. But Geraldine didn’t; she hurried into the playground at the last moment and out again, aloof and stern-looking. By Friday, when Laura still hadn’t reappeared, I began to wonder if she was ill. She’d had a funny turn earlier in the week, on her first outing with Liam – perhaps she’d been sickening for something and was really poorly. Although Geraldine apparently didn’t want anything to do with me, Laura hadn’t been so hostile, and given that we lived in the same street and our children attended the same school I felt it would be neighbourly of me to ask how she was. If you are feeling unwell and someone asks after you it can be a real pick-me-up. So on Friday afternoon when Geraldine collected Kim from school I intercepted her as she hurried out of the playground.

‘I was wondering how Laura was,’ I said. ‘I’m Cathy. I live in the same street.’

‘Yes, I know who you are,’ she said stiffly. ‘Laura is fine, thank you. Why do you ask?’ Which seemed an odd question.

‘When I last saw Laura she wasn’t feeling so good. She came over a bit hot and wobbly. I wondered if she was all right now.’

‘Oh, that. It was nothing,’ Geraldine said dismissively. ‘It was far too soon for her to be going out and she realizes that now.’

I gave a small nod. ‘As long as she’s not ill.’

‘No, of course not,’ she said bluntly.

‘Good. Well, if she ever fancies a change of scenery and a coffee, she knows where I live.’

‘Oh, she won’t be up to that for a long while,’ Geraldine said tartly. ‘I’ve told her she’s not to go out for at least another four weeks, possibly longer. That’s the advice we had after giving birth.’ Taking Kim by the arm, she headed off.

Not go out for another four weeks! You could have knocked me down with a feather. Wherever had she got that from? It was nearly three weeks since Laura had given birth and as far as I knew there was no medical advice that said a new mother had to wait seven weeks before going out, unless Geraldine was confusing it with postpartum sex, but even then seven weeks was excessive if the birth had been normal. More likely, I thought, Geraldine was suffering from empty-nest syndrome and she liked being the centre of the family and having Laura rely on her. It would make her feel needed, and if that suited Laura, fine. It was none of my business. I’d been reassured that Laura wasn’t ill, and I had my family to look after and work to do.

It was the weekend and the weather was glorious, so Adrian, Paula and I spent most of Saturday in the garden, where the children played while I read and then did some gardening. On Sunday my parents came for the day and after lunch we were in the garden again. In the evening after they’d gone, my husband, John, telephoned from America where he was working. He’d got into the habit of telephoning on a Sunday evening when it was lunchtime where he was. We all took turns to speak to him and tell him our news. Even little Paula ‘spoke’ to him, although she was bemused by the workings of the telephone and kept examining the handset, trying to work out where the voice was coming from, rather than holding it to her ear.

On Monday the school week began again, and as the weather was fine we walked to and from school. I only used my car for school if it was raining hard or if I had to go somewhere straight after school. Geraldine continued to take Kim to school and collect her, and continued to ignore me and all the other parents. Perhaps she was just shy, I thought, although she had a standoffish, austere look about her. Each time I passed Laura’s house, number 53, which was four times a day (on the way to and from school), I glanced over. But there was never any sign of Laura or baby Liam, so I assumed Laura was making the most of having Geraldine in charge and was relaxing indoors or in the back garden. Sometimes Paula pointed to the house and, remembering that Liam lived there, said, ‘Baby.’ If she was out of her stroller and walking, she tried the gate – and most of the others in the street!

On Thursday afternoon, once we’d returned home from school, we hadn’t been in long when the telephone rang. It was a social worker asking if I could do some respite and look after a little boy, Darrel, aged three, for that night and all day Friday. His mother, Shelley, a young, single parent, had to go into hospital as a day patient and the person who was supposed to have been looking after Darrel had let her down at the last minute. She had no one else she could ask at such short notice, and I said I’d be happy to help and look after Darrel.

‘Shelley’s a young mum but she’s a good one,’ the social worker said. ‘She’ll bring Darrel to you at about six o’clock this evening. She said she’d bring everything he needs, but she’s fretting that she’s run out of meatless sausages. She’s a vegetarian and she’s bringing up Darrel the same. Apparently he loves meatless sausages for lunch, but she hasn’t got time to go into town and buy more. I’ve told her you’ll be able to cook him something else vegetarian.’

‘Yes, of course I will, but tell her I’ll see if I can get some of the sausages. If she’s not bringing Darrel until six, I’ve got time to pop down to our local supermarket. I’m sure I’ve seen some there.’

‘Oh, you are good. I’ll tell her. It’s the first time Darrel has been away from her overnight and she’s getting herself into a bit of a state. It’s understandable.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed.

‘She has to be at the hospital at eight o’clock tomorrow morning and she should be discharged later that afternoon. If she does have to stay overnight or doesn’t feel up to collecting Darrel on Friday evening can he stay with you for a second night?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Thank you. I’ll phone Shelley now and reassure her, and give her your contact details.’

‘I’ll see her about six then.’ We said goodbye and I hung up. I hadn’t been told what was wrong with Shelley and I didn’t need to know. But I could appreciate why she was anxious at being separated from her son and was fretting because he would miss his favourite food. I’d seen the meatless sausages in the freezer cabinet at the supermarket a few weeks before when I’d been looking for something else. I just hoped they’d still have some in stock. But it’s strange the way things work out sometimes, as if it’s meant to be, for had I not offered to go to the supermarket I would probably have remained ignorant of what was really going on in Laura’s house.

‘Sorry,’ I said to Adrian and Paula. ‘We’ve got to pop down to the shop.’

Adrian pulled a face. ‘We’ve only just got in and I wanted to play in the garden.’