As it turned out I didn’t have to telephone, for the following morning, having just returned from taking the children to school and nursery, the phone began ringing. The digital display showed it was Jill’s office number.
‘How are you all?’ Jill asked, showing her usual concern for our well-being.
‘Not too bad, considering,’ I said. ‘The children are at school. Michael wanted to go. He’s coping remarkably well.’
‘I understand a priest visited you yesterday afternoon?’
‘Yes, Father Murphy. How did you know?’
‘Stella told me. She’s been in touch with Michael’s school. In fact I was supposed to phone you yesterday but I had to place a child and it was nearly nine o’clock before I finished. Stella wants to set up a planning meeting. Do you feel up to it? She suggested tomorrow at ten o’clock.’
‘Yes, I can do that. But why the rush?’
‘There are certain things she needs to discuss. It will be at the council offices, so I’ll meet you in reception at nine fifty. Obviously if you need any help today phone me, won’t you?’
‘Yes, I will, Jill. Thank you.’
We said goodbye and I hung up. I wasn’t unduly surprised that Stella was setting up a planning meeting. These meetings are not unusual and are arranged to plan short- and long-term care for the foster child – with whom and where the child will live. However, given that Michael was already with me I didn’t see the urgency; all we needed were some more of his clothes from home.
The house was unhappily quiet with the children at school and I telephoned Mum for a chat. I told her the funeral had been arranged for eleven o’clock the following Monday and asked her if she could collect Paula from nursery and look after her until I returned. She said of course she would and she would make lunch. I also mentioned that Michael would be going to the funeral with Colleen and Eamon, and Mum said that she thought that was appropriate given they were Patrick’s oldest and closest friends. She then asked me if I wanted Dad to accompany me to the funeral, as I would be going alone. I thanked her but said I’d be all right as I knew the church and others I knew would be there.
Having finished speaking to Mum, I loaded the washing machine and then pushed the vacuum cleaner over the carpets. A couple of times I felt my eyes well as I thought of Patrick. I wondered how Michael was faring at school, and indeed if Adrian and Paula were all right. Clearly Adrian and Paula’s bond with Patrick was only slight compared to the love (and loss) Michael was feeling, but nevertheless they were having to come to terms with losing someone; death is difficult for adults to cope with, and even more so for children. I was pleased when it was 11.50 and I could leave to collect Paula from nursery. As I went into nursery, Farah, one of the assistants, said quietly to me: ‘I’m sorry to hear you’ve had a bereavement. Paula’s been telling us that Mummy’s friend has gone to heaven.’
I smiled sadly. ‘Thank you. I suppose it’s good that Paula is talking about it.’ Farah agreed.
But outside, Paula asked, ‘Is it all right to tell people that Patrick has gone to heaven?’
‘Yes, of course, if you want to,’ I said.
‘It’s not a secret?’
‘No.’ I looked at her carefully. ‘We don’t have secrets, do we?’
She hesitated and then said, ‘Adrian told me not to tell the kids at nursery about your divorce. He said it’s embarrassing.’
I gave her hand a little squeeze. ‘It’s OK for you to tell people if you want to. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll talk to Adrian later.’
It’s surprising what a throwaway comment like the one Paula had made can reveal. I was surprised and saddened that Adrian felt as he did. Later that evening when Adrian was in bed I asked him why he didn’t want his friends to know that his father and I were divorcing. Eventually, after much reassurance, Adrian admitted he felt ashamed because all his close friends were from happy two-parent families. I reassured him as best I could and said our family was a happy one-parent family. To which he agreed. But the bottom line was that, like me, Adrian would have to adjust and deal with the divorce because there was nothing I could do to change the outcome. Paula, that much younger, and without Adrian’s social awareness, didn’t really feel the stigma so much. I wondered yet again if John had truly considered the impact his leaving was having on the children.
When I collected Michael from school that afternoon Father Murphy accompanied him across the playground. ‘Michael’s had a good day,’ the priest said. ‘Let me know if he wants me to visit again.’
I thanked him and said I would, although I could see that Michael was embarrassed by the priest escorting him across the playground, watched by the other mothers. Michael had said previously to me that he didn’t want to be singled out as the boy whose father was ill and now he certainly didn’t want to be the boy whose father had just died. Like Adrian and most boys his age, he just wanted to blend in with his peer group.
The children were quieter than usual in the car going home and when we arrived they didn’t want to play in the garden, so they watched television instead, while I made dinner. I kept popping into the sitting room and checking on them, especially Michael, who unsurprisingly was very subdued and clearly deep in thought. I asked him a few times if he was all right and he nodded. At bedtime when I went into his room to say good-night he was looking out of his window, hoping to see the stars, but at 8.30 p.m. in July the sky was still light so no stars were visible.
I stood beside him at the window and we both gazed into space. ‘The stars are still there, even though you can’t see them,’ I said, but it didn’t help. A moment later Michael was in tears. I held him and soothed and told him it was all right to cry, until his tears subsided, and he said he was tired and wanted to go to bed now. He climbed in and curled on to his side. I asked him if he wanted to talk, but he didn’t. Closing his eyes, he pulled the duvet up high although it was a warm night, gaining comfort from being enfolded. I sat with him, stroking his forehead until he fell asleep, and then I crept from his room.
I checked on him during the evening and then again before I went to bed, and he was asleep. I eased the duvet down from his face so that he wouldn’t be too hot. In the morning when I went into his room he was still asleep and I had to wake him for school, so I guessed he had slept well, which would be good for him.
Once Michael was up and dressed he seemed a bit brighter than he had the day before. Indeed I felt it was becoming a little easier for us all as we fell into the school routine. Over breakfast Michael asked if we could collect his Scalextric from home at the weekend and I said, most definitely; that I would phone Nora and ask when she would be at home to let us in. I was pleased Michael was taking an interest in his Scalextric again but I knew returning home would be difficult for him. I thought if he didn’t want to go into his house he could wait with Jack, while Nora and I went in and fetched the Scalextric and anything else he needed.
Having taken the boys to school and Paula to nursery, I went straight to the council offices for the planning meeting. Jill was already in reception and greeted me warmly with a hug, and then asked how the children were. As we talked I saw Colleen and Eamon come into reception. ‘Those are Patrick’s friends, Colleen and Eamon,’ I said to Jill, as she hadn’t met them before. ‘Are they coming to the meeting?’ For it seemed an unlikely coincidence otherwise.
‘I believe so,’ Jill said.
We went over and I introduced Jill to Colleen and Eamon. They asked how Michael was and I said he was coping very well and was at school. We continued chatting as Jill led the way up the stone stairs to the floor where the committee rooms were. She showed us into Room 3, one of the smaller meeting rooms, where five chairs had been arranged in a circle in the centre of the room. We sat down and then Stella came in with a quiet ‘Good morning’ and sat in the vacant chair.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she said with a small smile, and took out a notepad and pen, which she held on her lap. ‘Can we start by introducing ourselves? I’m Stella, Michael’s social worker.’
After we’d introduced ourselves Stella opened the meeting: ‘We all know why we’re here,’ she said evenly. ‘Sadly Patrick passed away on Sunday after a long illness and we now need to look at the arrangements for Michael’s care.’ She paused. ‘Cathy,’ Stella continued, looking at me, ‘you are Michael’s foster carer and I know Patrick would want me to thank you for doing such a wonderful job. Your sensitive support and care of Michael has helped him through a very upsetting and difficult time. I should also like to add my own personal thanks for all the help you have given Michael.’ Eamon and Colleen nodded and murmured their agreement.
I looked away, embarrassed. ‘Michael is a pleasure to look after,’ I said and a lump immediately rose in my throat.
Stella checked the notes on her pad and then looked up, ready to speak again. ‘As you all know, Patrick became aware he was very ill some time ago and he sensibly planned for his son’s care. I have been in regular contact with Patrick since he first approached the social services asking for help and I am therefore aware of his wishes. The department also has a copy of Patrick’s will, which now has a codicil.’
Eamon and Colleen nodded again. I knew they were the executors of Patrick’s will because Patrick had mentioned it to me a while back – at one of our first meetings – when he’d said he’d sold his car and had been putting his affairs in order to make it easier for Colleen and Eamon when the time came. I didn’t know the contents of Patrick’s will, nor that there was a codicil; there was no reason why I should know.
‘Cathy,’ Stella said, again looking at me as she spoke. ‘Patrick told me you offered Michael long-term care and I know it was much appreciated. He has only one relative, his aunt, and she cannot look after Michael. However, there is now a second option for Michael which the department is seriously considering.’ I glanced sideways at Jill, who was concentrating on Stella, her face serious, clearly no more aware of this second option than I was.
‘A month ago,’ Stella said, concentrating on Jill and me, ‘Colleen and Eamon told Patrick that they would very much like to look after Michael long term if it ever became necessary, and hopefully be allowed to adopt him.’
‘Oh,’ I said.
Stella nodded. ‘But Patrick, always sensible and level-headed, told them to give it more thought. For although they are his oldest and closest friends, and have known Michael since he was a baby, Pat was concerned that with all the emotion surrounding his illness they might have made the offer without thinking through the far-reaching implications, and then find they couldn’t fulfil their commitment to Michael. As we all know, Patrick’s first concern has always been for Michael and he didn’t want him going to live with Colleen and Eamon and then having to move if it didn’t work out. He knew that if he stayed with you, Cathy, that wouldn’t happen, as you are aware of the practicalities of caring for someone else’s children from fostering. So Patrick told Colleen and Eamon to think carefully about their wish to look after Michael, and if after his death they were still fully committed then they should tell me, which they have. Patrick also said that Michael should be asked what he wanted and his decision should be final.’
Stella stopped speaking and the room was quiet. I looked from Stella to Colleen and Eamon, who were staring at the floor, perhaps not wanting to meet my gaze. I felt Jill’s eyes on me and then her hand touch my arm.
‘I think this has come as rather a shock to Cathy,’ Jill said to Stella.
‘Yes, I’m sorry. I appreciate that,’ Stella said, ‘but in keeping with Patrick’s wishes – that Colleen and Eamon think carefully about their offer to look after Michael – I couldn’t say anything before. Once Colleen and Eamon told me, I thought it was better if we met to discuss this in person, not for you to be told over the phone.’
Eamon nodded and looked up at me. ‘Cathy, I hope you don’t think we have been going behind your back in this,’ he said. ‘Pat asked us not to say anything until after his death when we had considered our offer carefully and were absolutely certain it was right and we could fulfil our commitment. As you know, we don’t have any children of our own, although we would have liked them very much. Pat wanted us to be aware of how life changing our decision would be. We have thought about it long and hard and are convinced it is the right thing to do. Michael has known us all since he was little and we always played a part in his life and love him dearly. Pat knew that. It would mean so much to us to have Michael as our son, assuming he feels the same way. Colleen would give up her job so that she could be at home for him – to take him to school, have his dinner ready, and do all the things that mothers do.’
Eamon stopped and Colleen looked at me and added: ‘If I can be half as good a mother as you are, Cathy, I shall be very pleased.’
I smiled weakly and looked away. Jill was right: it had come as a shock to me and I was still recovering.
Jill then asked Stella, ‘What is the legal position regarding moving Michael to Colleen and Eamon?’
‘Michael is accommodated on a voluntary care order so we don’t need a court order to move him. It’s the department’s decision.’ Stella then looked at me. ‘What are your thoughts on this, Cathy? You know Michael well. Do you think it would be right for him to live with Colleen and Eamon?’
All eyes turned to me. I knew I mustn’t let my heart rule my head when thinking what was best for Michael. I knew I needed to put aside my love for him and give an honest and objective opinion, which wasn’t easy. I took a deep breath before I began. ‘I’ve often thought Colleen and Eamon would make good parents and that it was a pity they didn’t have children of their own,’ I said. ‘They clearly think the world of Michael and already have a strong bond with him, stretching back to when he was a baby. By comparison Michael has only known me for a short time. I am also aware Michael’s faith is very important to him, just as it was for his dad. Colleen and Eamon are Catholics and therefore share the same faith. If Michael wants to live with Colleen and Eamon, then I’m sure it’s the right thing to do. I will obviously support Michael and do all I can to make the move go smoothly.’ I stopped just in time, for I could feel my bottom lip tremble.
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.’