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

‘Of course not. I’ve enjoyed having your company. And please don’t worry about Darrel. I’ll take good care of him. I hope the operation goes well.’ The clock on the mantelpiece showed it was nearly ten o’clock. ‘Shelley, I don’t really want you going home on the bus alone at this time. Can I call a cab? I’ll pay for it.’

‘That’s kind of you. I’m not usually out this late,’ she said with a small laugh. ‘I’m usually at home with Darrel. But is it safe for a woman to be alone in a cab? I mean, you read bad stuff in the papers.’

‘It’s a local firm I know well,’ I said. ‘They have at least one lady cab driver. Shall I see if she’s free?’

‘Yes, please. I’ll pop up to the loo while you phone them.’

I called the cab firm and the controller said they had a lady driver working that night, so I booked the cab. He said she would be with us in about fifteen minutes. Shelley had been right to be concerned, a young woman alone in a cab, but I was confident she’d be safe using this firm or I wouldn’t have suggested it. I heard her footsteps on the landing, but before she came downstairs she went into Darrel’s room. A few moments later she returned to the living room. ‘He’s fast asleep,’ she said, joining me on the sofa. ‘He should sleep through, but he’ll wake early with a sopping wet nappy. I’m trying to get him dry at night, but it’s difficult.’

‘You could try giving him his last drink in the evening earlier,’ I suggested. ‘Perhaps with his dinner, or just after. That’s what I did with Adrian and the children I’ve fostered who were still in nappies at night. After all, what goes in must come out!’

She smiled. ‘Yes, very true. I’ll give it a try.’

I told her the cab was on its way and, taking out my purse, I gave her a twenty-pound note to pay the fare.

‘It won’t be that much,’ she said. ‘I’ll give you change.’

‘No. It’s OK. Buy yourself something.’

‘Thank you. That is kind.’

We continued chatting, mainly about Darrel and being a parent, until the doorbell rang. I went with her to the front door and opened it. The lady driver said she’d wait in her cab.

‘Good luck for tomorrow,’ I said to Shelley. ‘And phone me if you change your mind about a lift back from the hospital.’

‘All right. Thanks for everything,’ she said, and gave me a big hug. ‘How different my life would have been if I’d been fostered by you,’ she added reflectively.

I felt my eyes fill. ‘Take care, love, and see you tomorrow.’

I waited with the door open until she was safely in the cab, and then I closed and locked it for the night. Shelley’s unsettled past was sadly not a one-off. Too many children are bounced around the care system (for a number of reasons) and never have a chance to put down roots and have a family of their own. These young people often struggle in adult life, and feeling unloved can lead to drink and drugs or abusive relationships. Since I started writing my fostering memoirs I’ve been heartbroken by some of the emails I’ve received from young men and women with experiences similar to Shelley’s. Far more needs to be done to keep children in the same foster family or adoptive home so that they grow up and meet the challenges of adulthood with the confidence and self-esteem that comes from being loved and wanted.

Before I went to bed I checked all three children were asleep, leaving their bedroom doors ajar so I would hear them if they called out. I never sleep well when I have a new child in the house. I’m half listening out in case they wake and are upset. As it happened, Darrel slept through, but I woke with a start at six o’clock when I heard him cry, ‘Mummy!’

I was immediately out of bed and going round the landing in my dressing gown. The poor little chap was sitting up in bed, his round face sad and scared. ‘Where’s Mummy?’ he asked.

‘She’s gone to the hospital to have her tooth made better,’ I said, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘I’m Cathy. Do you remember coming here yesterday? You’re staying with me while Mummy is at the hospital, then she’ll come and collect you.’

But he wasn’t reassured. His face crumbled and his tears fell. ‘I want my mummy.’

‘Oh, love, come here.’ I put my arm around him and held him close. It was only natural for him to be upset, waking in a strange bed and being separated from his mother for the first time.

‘It’s all right,’ I soothed, stroking his head. ‘I’ll look after you until Mummy comes back.’

‘I want my mummy,’ he sobbed. ‘Where’s my mummy?’

I felt so sorry for him. ‘She’s not here, love. She’s at the hospital. You’ll see her later.’

But he wouldn’t be consoled. ‘Mummy! Mummy!’ he called out with rising desperation. I knew it was only a matter of time before he woke Adrian and Paula.

Sure enough, a moment later Adrian’s feet pitter-pattered round the landing and he came into Darrel’s room in his pyjamas, looking very worried.

‘It’s OK,’ I reassured him and Darrel. ‘Darrel will be fine soon.’

‘Don’t be upset,’ Adrian said, coming over to Darrel and gently rubbing his arm. ‘We’ll look after you. You can play with my best toys in my bedroom if you like.’

‘Wow. Did you hear that, Darrel?’ I said to him. ‘Adrian says you can play with his best toys.’ He kept them in his bedroom out of harm’s way, as Paula at thirteen months was still rather clumsy.

The offer to play with an older boy’s best toys was too good to refuse, and far more comforting than my well-meant words of reassurance. Darrel’s tears stopped and he climbed out of bed. ‘I have to take my nappy off first,’ he said to Adrian.

I knew from Shelley’s notes that she used baby wipes to clean Darrel in the morning, and then he went to the toilet. So once he was clean and dry, he stayed in his pyjamas and went into Adrian’s room where Adrian had already set out some toys for them both to play with. With the boys occupied and Paula still asleep, I took the opportunity to shower and dress. By the time I’d finished Paula was awake and jumping up and down in her cot wanting to be ‘Out! Out!’ so I got her dressed. I took her with me into Adrian’s room, thanked him for looking after Darrel and left him to dress while I helped Darrel in his room. Aged three, Darrel could mostly dress himself but needed some help, especially with his socks, which are difficult for young children – he kept getting them on with the heel on top.

By the time we arrived downstairs for breakfast Adrian was Darrel’s best friend and he wouldn’t let him out of his sight. I had to push his chair right up close to Adrian’s at the table so they were touching, and he chatted away to Adrian. I warmed up the porridge Shelley had made for him and poured it into a bowl. Before Darrel began eating he asked Adrian if he’d like some. ‘Mummy won’t mind,’ he said cutely.

‘That’s OK, you have it,’ Adrian said. ‘I’ve got wheat flakes.’ In truth, Adrian had gone off porridge and didn’t eat it at that point.

Paula was sitting on her booster seat at the table, opposite Darrel, and was far more interested in watching him than she was in feeding herself. He was a new face at the table and she didn’t understand why he was there. I was sitting beside her and kept filling her spoon from her bowl of hot oat cereal and reminding her to eat. Darrel finished his porridge and I gave him the fruit his mother had prepared. He gave us a grape each, which we thanked him for and ate. ‘Very nice,’ I said.

Mindful of the time ticking by, I shepherded everyone upstairs and into the bathroom to brush their teeth and wash their faces. It was quite a logistical exercise getting three small children ready to leave the house on time, but eventually they were all in the hall with their jackets done up and their shoes on. Paula wanted to walk, but there wasn’t time, so I told her she could walk on the way back from school and lifted her into the stroller and fastened her safety harness before she had a chance to protest. Outside she wanted to hold Darrel’s hand as he walked beside her stroller and he was happy to do so, finding the novelty of a little one quite amusing. The boys talked to each other as we walked and Darrel told Adrian he would be starting school in September when he was four.