Cathy Glass - The Silent Cry - Part 1 of 3 - There is little Kim can do as her mother's mental health spirals out of control

I watched as Kim packed and paid for her shopping and then came out. ‘Are you here alone?’ I asked her.

She gave a small, furtive nod, almost as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

‘We can walk back together,’ I suggested.

She gave another small nod and we crossed the pavement and waited on the kerb. I was surprised and concerned that Kim was by herself. She was only seven, and while there is no law that states a child of seven shouldn’t go out alone I thought it was far too young. She wasn’t in sight of her house, she was by herself and she’d had to cross quite a busy road. A foster child certainly wouldn’t have been allowed to make this journey alone at her age, and neither would I have allowed my own children to do so.

‘Is your mother all right?’ I asked Kim as we began up our street. I wondered if there had been an emergency, which had necessitated Kim having to buy some items.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she said politely.

‘Where’s your gran?’ I asked, trying not to sound as though I was questioning her.

‘At her house,’ Kim replied.

‘And you’ve been doing some shopping for your mother?’ She nodded. ‘Do you often do the shopping?’ I asked after a moment, for she appeared quite confident in her role.

‘Yes, sometimes, since Mum had Liam.’

‘Does your gran not do the shopping then?’

‘Sometimes, but Mum doesn’t always like the things Gran buys.’

So why not ask her to buy the things she does like? I thought but didn’t say.

‘And your mum didn’t want to walk down with you?’ I asked as we walked.

‘She’s got a bad headache. She’s in bed, and Dad won’t be home until later.’

‘Oh dear.’ I could see Kim looking enviously at Adrian’s and Paula’s ice creams and I wished I’d thought to buy her one. ‘So who’s looking after Liam?’ I asked.

‘He’s in the pram, asleep. I wanted to bring him with me, but Mum wouldn’t let me. If she’s not up later I can make him a bottle,’ Kim added proudly. ‘I know what to do.’

I smiled and hid my concerns. This wasn’t making sense. If Geraldine liked to help, why wasn’t she helping the family now when they needed her? Laura was in bed, unwell, and Kim’s father wasn’t home. Why not phone Geraldine and ask for help? She only lived five streets away. We were drawing close to Laura’s house now.

‘What time does your dad get in from work?’ I asked her. ‘Do you know?’

‘I think it’s usually about seven-thirty or eight,’ Kim said.

That was three hours away. ‘Does he know your mum is unwell and you had to go to the shop?’ We’d arrived at her garden gate.

‘No,’ Kim said, and opened the gate. If I hadn’t been expecting Shelley and Darrel, I would have gone in and asked Laura if there was anything I could do.

Kim paused on the other side of the gate as she looped the carrier bag over her arm and took a front-door key from her purse.

‘Kim, will you please tell your mother I said hello and to phone me if there is anything I can do? She has my telephone number.’

‘Yes. Thank you,’ Kim said sweetly, and then hesitated. With a slightly guilty look she said, ‘You won’t tell Dad or Gran you saw me, will you?’

‘No, but is there a reason?’

‘They wouldn’t like it,’ Kim said. With a little embarrassed smile she turned and continued up the path to her front door.

I watched her open the door and go in. There was no sign of Laura. The door closed and we continued on our way home.

‘Why is Kim doing the shopping?’ Adrian asked, having heard some of the conversation.

‘Her mother isn’t feeling well.’

‘Would I have to do the shopping if you weren’t well?’ he said through a mouthful of ice cream.

‘No. You’re too young.’

‘So who would do the shopping while Dad’s away if you were ill?’

‘I’d ask Sue [our neighbour], or another friend, or Nana and Grandpa. But don’t you worry, I’m not going to be ill.’ I knew Adrian was anxious about his father working away, and he occasionally asked who would do the jobs his dad usually did, like cutting the grass, or about other ‘what if’ scenarios, and I always reassured him.

I paused to wipe ice cream from Paula’s mouth and hands, as it was melting faster than she could eat it, and then we continued up the street towards home. Perhaps it was from years of fostering that I instinctively sensed when a child might be hiding something, and I felt that now with Kim. What she might be hiding I didn’t know, but I had a nagging doubt that something wasn’t right in her house. I decided that the following week, at the first opportunity, I would make a neighbourly call and knock on Laura’s door – unless, of course, she was in the playground on Monday, which I doubted.

We’d just finished dinner that evening when the doorbell rang, and Adrian and Paula came with me to answer the door. Although it was still light outside I checked the security spyhole before opening it.

‘I’m Shelley and this is Darrel,’ the young woman said, with a nervous smile.

‘Yes, I’ve been expecting you, love. Come in.’

‘This is the lady I told you about,’ Shelley said, bending down to Darrel. He was standing beside her, holding her hand, and now buried his face against her leg, reluctant to come in.

‘He’s bound to be a bit shy to begin with,’ I said.

‘I know. I understand how he feels,’ Shelley said, clearly anxious herself. ‘Look, Darrel, Cathy has children you can play with.’

‘This is Adrian and this is Paula,’ I said.

But Darrel kept his face pressed against his mother’s leg as she gently eased him over the doorstep and into the hall. I closed the front door. Adrian, two years older than Darrel and more confident on home territory, went up to him and touched his arm. ‘Would you like to come and play with some of my toys?’ he asked kindly.

‘That’s nice of you,’ Shelley said, but Darrel didn’t look up or release his grip on his mother.

Then Paula decided that she, too, was shy and buried her face against my leg.

‘Do you want to leave your bags there?’ I said to Shelley, pointing to a space in the hall. ‘I’ll sort them out later.’

She was carrying a large holdall on each shoulder and, unhooking them, set them on the floor. She was also carrying a cool bag. ‘Could you put these things in the fridge, please?’ she said, handing me the cool bag. ‘There’s a pot containing his porridge for breakfast. I made it the way he likes it, with milk, before we came, so you just have to heat it up.’

‘OK, that’s fine, thank you.’

‘And there’s some yoghurt in there as well, and diced fruit in little pots. He has them for pudding and snacks. I’ve also put in a pint of full-cream milk. He prefers that to the semi-skimmed. I give him a drink before he goes to bed. I forgot to tell the social worker that and I didn’t know if you had full-cream milk here.’

‘I’ve got most things,’ I said, trying to reassure her. ‘But it’s nice for Darrel to have what you’ve brought.’

‘Oh, the sausages!’ Shelley exclaimed.

‘Yes, I got some. Don’t worry.’

‘Thank you so much. I am grateful.’ Then, bending down to Darrel again, she said, ‘Cathy has got your favourite sausages. Isn’t that nice?’

But Darrel kept his face pressed against his mother, and Shelley appeared equally nervous and anxious.

‘Try not to worry. He’ll be fine soon,’ I said. ‘Come and have a seat in the living room, while I put these things in the fridge.’

Shelley picked him up and held him tightly to her. I thought he was probably sensing her anxiety as much as he was nervous and shy himself. I showed them into the living room. Adrian went in, too, while Paula, slightly unsettled, came with me into the kitchen. At her age it was more difficult for her to understand fostering.