The Night the Angels Came (24 page)

There was a small silence before Jill asked Stella: ‘When will you ask Michael?’

‘I think the sooner we make a decision the better. Michael needs to be settled,’ Stella said to Jill. Then to me: ‘Could I visit you both tomorrow after school, about four o’clock?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’ Stella made a note on her pad. ‘If Michael does go to live with Colleen and Eamon,’ Jill asked, ‘will he still be able to see Cathy and her children? I think we all recognize the bond that has developed between them and it would be in Michael’s interest to continue.’

Colleen answered, ‘Yes, definitely.’ Then with a smile at me said: ‘And I shall be asking Cathy for lots of advice on looking after Michael.’

I returned her smile.

The meeting ended as it had begun, with Stella thanking us for attending. She thanked me again for all I was doing for Michael, and then asked Colleen and Eamon to wait behind, as she needed to talk to them. Jill and I said goodbye and left the room.

Outside we were quiet as we went down the stone steps and then crossed the reception. I think Jill realized I needed time to myself. I had gone to the meeting believing I would be making plans for Michael staying for good and instead I was having to face him leaving. I wondered what Paula and Adrian would say, for like me they had assumed Michael would be staying with us.

‘What do you think Michael’s wishes will be?’ Jill said at last, breaking into my thoughts, as we left the building.

‘I’m not sure. He has known Eamon and Colleen all his life but he’s never lived with them. What if he doesn’t know what he wants?’

‘Then Stella, as his social worker, will make the decision,’ Jill said. ‘I think I should be with you tomorrow when Stella visits. Is that all right?’

‘Yes please. I’d be grateful for your support.’

Jill smiled. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then, and try not to worry. Whatever the outcome we know Michael will be greatly loved and well looked after, which can’t be said for all children.’

I
t wasn’t appropriate for me to tell the children the reason Stella was coming the following afternoon, so I simply said that Michael’s social worker would be visiting us after school on Thursday. Adrian and Paula – used to social workers visiting as part of fostering – saw nothing unusual in this, while Michael just nodded and said, ‘OK.’ It was Wednesday evening, and after dinner Nora and Jack, and then Colleen and Eamon, phoned. After talking to me they asked to speak to Michael; Colleen and Eamon knew not to mention the reason for Stella’s visit to Michael. I assumed Nora and Jack knew what was going on, for Nora said to me: ‘I’d like to stay in touch with you, Cathy, wherever Michael’s living.’

Michael and Adrian both had homework that evening, although Michael’s teacher had sent a note in his reading folder saying that if Michael didn’t feel up to doing it to leave it for another week, which was thoughtful of her. However, Michael said he would do his homework tonight as his dad always said he should do it when it was set so that he didn’t forget it or rush through it at the last minute.

I smiled. ‘Yes, I remember him telling me that,’ I said. ‘A very sensible man, your dad.’

Michael smiled too. He had mentioned his father a few times that day, which I took as a good sign that he was starting to work through the grieving process. I knew it was more difficult for those who lost a loved one and couldn’t bear to talk about them or have their name spoken, as had happened with a friend of mine at school. It had been years before she’d been able to confront her loss and start to heal.

While Adrian and Michael did their homework I helped Paula with her bath and saw her into bed. I read her a bedtime story, kissed her goodnight and then came downstairs, where I checked the boys’ homework. Adrian had maths and Michael had spellings to learn. They had done their homework well and decided to play cards before bedtime. And while Michael’s pleasure when he won a game was subdued, I thought it was a good sign that he was able to play and was smiling sometimes.

The boys went up to bed at their normal bedtime and when I went into Michael’s room to say goodnight he was again standing by the window, gazing at the sky. Like the previous night it was still too light to see the stars. ‘The stars are still there,’ I said as I’d said the night before, ‘even though you can’t see them.’

Michael left the window and knelt by his bed to say his prayers: ‘God bless Mummy, Daddy, Colleen, Eamon, Nora, Jack, Cathy, Adrian, Paula, and all my friends. Amen.’ He climbed into bed.

‘All right, love?’ I asked as I adjusted the duvet around him. ‘You’re doing very well.’

He nodded but his face was serious. ‘I miss my daddy so much,’ he said quietly. ‘I wish he didn’t have to die. It’s not fair.’ It was such a simple and heartfelt statement, I could have cried.

‘I know, love,’ I said, sitting on the bed. ‘Sometimes life doesn’t seem fair, does it?’

Michael looked at me thoughtfully. ‘Do you think it’s OK for me to think that sometimes – that life isn’t fair? I mean I know I was lucky to have my daddy for all the time I did. And I know Jesus wanted him, but I wish he hadn’t taken my daddy. Will God forgive me for thinking that?’

‘Of course he will,’ I said. ‘Your God is good and understanding. Of course you would rather have your daddy with you; anyone would. You have a right to feel hurt and maybe even angry. I would if I was you.’ Which seemed to help Michael and he looked at me a little relieved. I didn’t want him to beat himself up with guilt and conscience, which I think can sometimes happen with religious conviction. Michael was a small boy who’d lost his dad; of course it wasn’t fair.

‘I’ve told God I don’t want him taking any more people I love,’ Michael added, as he snuggled down into bed. ‘Not Colleen and Eamon, Nora and Jack, or you and Adrian and Paula.’

‘Don’t you worry, he won’t,’ I said firmly. ‘We’re all staying here for a long while,’ which made Michael smile. And while I obviously couldn’t see into the future I felt sure destiny would never be so cruel as to take another of Michael’s loved ones.

Before Michael fell asleep he talked some more about his dad, sharing happy memories of the fun times they’d had together. He mentioned the last time he’d seen his dad – at the hospice – and how he’d somehow known that could be the last time. He said he was pleased he’d talked to him and told him his news. Michael then asked me if he’d really heard his dad telling him to get dressed ready for school on the morning he’d died and I said it was certainly possible. I stayed with Michael, sitting on the bed and holding his hand, as his eyes finally began to close and he slowly drifted off to sleep. Once he was asleep I crept silently from the room and checked on Adrian and Paula, who were also fast asleep.

The following morning, Thursday, Paula didn’t go to nursery. She said she wasn’t well. She had been fine when I’d woken her but once she was up and dressed she said she had a bad tummy ache and didn’t feel able to go to nursery. Paula wasn’t a child who had regular tummy aches and she usually liked nursery, so I kept her off, and she came with me in the car when I took the boys to school. However, once we were home again Paula immediately brightened and said she was feeling much, much better now. She also told me how much she loved me, and missed me when she was at nursery; then proved it by following me around the house and not letting me out of her sight. I began to wonder if her ‘tummy ache’ had more to it and was possibly emotional rather than physical. Sometimes when young children haven’t the words to express complex emotions their feelings come out through minor illness, for example, tummy aches and headaches, which every parent knows. I thought that with all that had been happening recently it would hardly be surprising if Paula’s tummy ache was symptomatic of something deeper.

‘Is there anything worrying you?’ I asked her a little later as I returned from hanging the washing on the line with Paula one step behind me.

‘No,’ Paula said adamantly. ‘I’m a big girl now. I’m going to big school in September.’

‘I know you’re a big girl, love,’ I said, ‘but even big girls can worry and be upset. I am a very big girl and I still worry sometimes.’

‘Do you?’ she asked, amazed, as though this was a revelation. I suppose I always appeared so strong and in control I must have seemed invincible.

‘Yes. I do worry sometimes,’ I said. ‘Everyone does. So what’s worrying you? I think it may help if you tell me.’

She looked at me for a moment and then taking my hand in hers said seriously, ‘I’m worried that God might want you in heaven like he wanted Michael’s mummy and daddy.’

Clearly she’d got this idea from hearing Michael talk, but without his religious faith the prospect was more threatening than comforting.

‘No, he doesn’t,’ I said firmly. ‘And I’m not ill. I’m in very good health. I will grow old just like Nana and Grandpa, so please don’t worry.’

‘Do you eat lots of fruit and vegetables?’ Paula asked. ‘At nursery they give us fruit each day so we stay healthy.’

‘Yes, you’ve seen me eat fruit and veg every day, so stop worrying, all right?’

‘OK,’ Paula said, finally reassured. She gave me a big hug and added, ‘I’ll be well enough to go to nursery tomorrow.’

‘Excellent,’ I said.

It was hardly surprising Paula had been fretting about losing me but I was pleased she’d been able to share her worries. I knew I needed to make sure Adrian wasn’t internalizing his worries; with all the attention I’d been giving to Michael it was possible I hadn’t been as sensitive as I should to Adrian’s anxieties. Adrian and Paula, albeit on a different level to Michael, were having to deal with losing Patrick just as I was.

That afternoon as I drove home from collecting the boys from school I reminded the children Stella was coming. Once home we had time for a cool drink and a biscuit before Jill arrived at 3.50, and I made her a drink. Stella arrived at four o’clock and she too accepted the offer of a cold drink. We all went into the sitting room and Stella asked the children how school was and if they’d had a good day. After a couple of minutes she said she’d like to talk to Michael alone, which I’d expected. Social workers usually spend time alone with the looked-after child, and I also thought that Stella would want to seek Michael’s opinion on where he wanted to live without me and the children present: having us there could have inhibited him from expressing himself if he felt he was being disloyal. The weather was good, so I suggested we went outside, and Adrian, Paula, Jill and I filed out through the French windows and into the garden, where we played a game of catch as Stella talked to Michael in the sitting room.

‘What are they talking about?’ Paula asked after a while, as she threw the ball to me.

‘About Michael’s future,’ I said. ‘Where he’s going to live.’ It was now time to prepare Adrian and Paula for the purpose of Stella’s visit. I hadn’t been able to say anything prior to Stella coming, but now she was with Michael and they were discussing his future, I needed to prepare my children.

‘Stella is talking to Michael about where he will live permanently,’ I said, glancing at Jill. ‘They will have to decide if he is going to stay with us or live with his Auntie Colleen and Uncle Eamon. They also love him and want to look after him.’

‘I hope Michael stays with us,’ Paula said easily.

‘If Michael does go to live with Colleen and Eamon, we shall still see him regularly,’ I said and threw the ball to Jill.

‘It’s nice that so many people want to look after Michael,’ Jill said positively, throwing the ball to Adrian. ‘Some of the children you look after don’t have anyone, do they?’

Adrian nodded and threw the ball to me.

‘All right, love?’ I asked Adrian, and he nodded.

I think because Adrian and Paula had grown up with fostering they were better prepared than most children their age for a child they’d grown close to suddenly leaving, although of course they always felt sad when the child left, and missed them after they’d gone. We continued to play catch for another fifteen minutes or so; then Stella opened the French windows and called: ‘We’ve finished. Would you like to come in now?’

Paula and Adrian went in first as Jill and I fell into step behind them – up the garden, across the patio and in through the French windows. Michael was sitting on the sofa with Stella beside him and I knew immediately from his expression what his decision had been. Jill and I sat in the armchairs as Adrian and Paula squatted cross-legged on the floor in front of the sofa, as though giving Stella an audience. Stella looked at Adrian and Paula as she spoke:

‘I’d like to thank you both for taking such good care of Michael,’ she said. ‘You’ve made him feel very welcome and have looked after him so well. Michael tells me he feels like you’re a brother and sister to him.’

‘That’s all right. Michael’s nice,’ Paula said cutely. ‘Not like that boy who stayed last year: he bit me.’

Adrian and Michael stifled chuckles. ‘Well, he did!’ Paula said indignantly. ‘I had a mark on my arm for a week. My teacher saw it.’

‘I know you did,’ I said conciliatorily, ‘but let’s listen to what Stella has to say.’

Stella smiled at Adrian and Paula and put her arm around Michael and gave him a little hug. ‘So a big thank-you for taking such good care of Michael, in the happy and sad times. Michael and I have had to make a difficult decision – about where he should live in the future. I know you would like Michael to stay and live with you but Michael’s godparents, Colleen and Eamon, would like him to live with them. They haven’t any children and they know Michael very well, so he would be like a son to them.’ I knew what was coming next; I could feel the pull of Stella’s words, guiding us towards the outcome. ‘Michael and I have therefore decided it would be right for Michael to live with Colleen and Eamon, so they will be his for ever family. You will still see Michael. Colleen and Eamon will make sure of that and I know they will look after Michael and love him as you have done.’

Michael, who’d been unable to meet my gaze until now, finally looked at me. I smiled. ‘We’ll miss you, love,’ I said, ‘but I know you’re as special to Colleen and Eamon as you have been to us. It is the right thing to do.’ I saw his expression change from guilt to relief.

‘When are you going?’ Adrian asked.

‘Sunday,’ Michael said.

Jill and I looked at Stella for confirmation. ‘I suggested Sunday,’ she said. ‘I thought that as Colleen and Eamon are taking Michael to the funeral on Monday it would make things easier for everyone if Michael moved in with them on Sunday. It also seemed appropriate for Michael to leave for the funeral with Colleen and Eamon – his family.’ I nodded. I could see the logic in this.

‘Michael will just take the belongings he has here to Colleen’s on Sunday,’ Stella added. ‘I’ll sort the rest out – his things from home – later. Is Sunday all right for you, Cathy?’

‘Yes. We were going to my parents but we can go on Saturday instead. What time were you thinking of making the move on Sunday?’

‘I’ve yet to confirm that with Colleen, but I should think about one o’clock?’

I nodded and threw Michael, who’d gone quiet again, another smile.

There wasn’t much to say after that. Michael had made his decision in conjunction with Stella and I knew how much Colleen and Eamon loved him and how special he was to them. I also knew that as an only child they would be able to invest the time that would be needed to see Michael through the grieving process and go on to lead a full and rewarding life. With Colleen and Eamon Michael would have the two-parent family he had never known and I knew the decision would have Pat’s blessing.

Stella thanked us again for all we’d done for Michael and, making a move to go, said she’d ask Colleen to phone me to confirm what time she would be coming on Sunday. I left Adrian and Paula with Jill in the sitting room while I saw Stella to the door. As I returned to the sitting room I heard Michael say: ‘I’ve always known Auntie Colleen and Uncle Eamon, ever since I was little.’