The Night the Angels Came

  ‘Hello?’ I gasped, chewing and swallowing.

  ‘Cathy?’

  ‘Yes.’ It was Patrick. I breathed a sign of relief. ‘You sound different.’

  I swallowed again. ‘Sorry. I was eating.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve disturbed you.’

  ‘Don’t worry. How are you?’

  ‘Good. My blood results have just come back from the lab. They’re fine and the doc says I can go.’

  ‘Fantastic.’

  ‘I’m just waiting for some tablets to be made up and then I’ll be on my way.’

  ‘How are you getting home?’ I asked, for I now realized that while I’d offered to take Michael home, I hadn’t offered to collect Patrick from hospital.

  ‘My friends Eamon and Colleen are collecting me. I’m going to phone them now.’

  ‘Good. What time shall I bring Michael home?’

  ‘I’m not sure how long my meds will be. Shall we say three o’clock, to be on the safe side?’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine with me.’

  Patrick paused thoughtfully before he said, ‘Cathy, do you have my address?’

  I laughed. ‘No. Good thinking.’ Because Michael had come to me on Friday as an emergency I hadn’t been given the placement forms I would normally have by the social services, which, with other details, contained the child’s home address. Although Patrick and I had swapped telephone numbers at our first meeting, and I knew the road where he lived from talking to him, I didn’t have the house number.

  ‘Forty-six Queen’s Road,’ he said, also laughing.

  I jotted ‘46’ on the notepad by the phone. ‘See you at three, then.’

  ‘Thanks, Cathy.’

  I do so like being the messenger of good news and as I returned to the dining table to finish my lunch I had a huge grin on my face. The children looked at me expectantly, wondering why I’d fled from the table and then returned grinning inanely.

  ‘Good news,’ I announced unnecessarily. I looked at Michael. ‘That was your dad on the phone. The doctor has said he is well enough to leave. I am taking you home this afternoon.’

  Michael stopped eating and looked at me, his expression pleased but not as happy as I would have anticipated. ‘So I can’t stay and play this afternoon?’ he asked after a moment.

  ‘Until two forty-five, yes, and then we need to go.’

  ‘You can come and play again another time,’ Adrian said, seeing Michael’s disappointment.

  Michael nodded but was quiet. He put down his sandwich and stopped eating. I could see the conflict of emotions he was experiencing. Of course he wanted to be home with his father – they had a strong bond, and loved each other dearly – but at the same time being with us over the weekend had allowed Michael to let go of his worries and responsibilities and just play as a child should. Despite Patrick’s sensitivity and wish to protect Michael as much as he could, life at home would doubtless be very different from the weekend Michael had spent with us. Yet while I was aware how confusing these conflicting emotions must be for Michael, just as I think Adrian was, there was little I could say to help beyond, ‘Finish your lunch, good boy, and then you’ll have time to play before we go.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Friends and Neighbours

  I rang the doorbell at 46 Queen’s Road a few minutes after three o’clock. Michael was standing on one side of me, holding his school bag and coat, Adrian stood just behind him, carrying the holdall, and Paula stood by my other side, holding my hand tightly, a little nervous at going to a new house.

  The children had played after lunch and when I’d told Michael it was time to go he’d exclaimed happily, ‘I’m seeing my dad soon!’ In the car Paula and Adrian had asked Michael about his house. Did he have a garden? Any pets? What was his bedroom like? Michael had said he would show us around his house, but I wasn’t so sure we would be invited in. ‘Your dad might be too tired to ve us all in now,’ I cautioned.

  But as the door now opened, an attractive woman in her early forties said, ‘Hi, come in. You must be Cathy.’ For a second I thought it must be Patrick’s girlfriend, the existence of whom he’d forgotten to mention, until she said, ‘I’m Colleen. Pleased to meet you all.’

  ‘And you,’ I said going in. ‘These are my children, Adrian and Paula.’ Colleen smiled at them and then kissed and hugged Michael.

  ‘Good to see you again,’ she said to him, and then to me, ‘How’s he been?’

  ‘He did very well,’ I confirmed. ‘We kept him busy. How’s Patrick?’ I looked down the hall to where Michael was taking Adrian.

  ‘He’s in the sitting room. Come through.’

  With Paula still holding my hand I followed Colleen down the hall to the room at the rear of the house. Patrick and another man were in the sitting room and stood as we entered. Michael fell into his father’s arms and they hugged each other hard. After a moment Patrick let go of Michael and shook Adrian’s hand; then coming over gave me a big kiss on the cheek before bending down to Paula, ‘And how are you, little miss?’ he said.

  Paula, still shy, snuggled into my side. ‘She’s good, thank you,’ I confirmed. ‘You look well.’

  ‘Yes, I feel it,’ Patrick said. His skin had a healthy colour and his breathing was even, so that apart from still being thin there was no other indication he was so ill. ‘You’ve met Colleen,’ Patrick said. ‘This is Colleen’s husband, Eamon.’ The other man, of a similar age to Patrick, now shook my hand.

  ‘Good to meet you, Cathy,’ he said. ‘We’ve heard a lot about you.’

  ‘Oh, have you?’ I said, embarrassed.

  ‘Would you like some tea?’ Colleen asked me.

  ‘Yes please.’

  ‘What would your children like? I’ve been shopping and bought in apple, orange and pineapple juice, which I know Michael likes.’

  I looked at Adrian and Paula. ‘Apple, please,’ Adrian said, while Paula, still shy, just nodded.

  ‘She’ll have apple too, please,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’

  Patrick waved me to the sofa and I sat down. Paula nestled into my side while Patrick and Eamon returned to the armchairs they’d been sitting in as we’d arrived. ‘Shall I show you my bedroom?’ Michael asked Adrian.

  Adrian nodded.

  ‘Do you want to come?’ Michael asked Paula, but she shook her head.

  ‘You two go,’ I said. ‘Paula can stay with me until she thaws out.’

  Adrian followed Michael out of the sitting room and when they were out of earshot Patrick asked me, ‘How’s he been, really?’

  ‘He’s been fine,’ I confirmed. ‘The first evening he was a bit tearful to begin with, but once he’d spoken to you on the phone and knew you were getting better he brightened up.’

  Patrick nodded thoughtfully. ‘To be honest I wondered afterwards if I’d made the right decision in not letting him visit me in hospital. There was an elderly man in the bed next to me who had Alzheimer’s and kept crying out. I thought it would be upsetting for Michael. But on the other hand it would have given him the experience of visiting me in hospital, which he will have to do one day.’

  I didn’t immediately reply. At that point, with Patrick having just come out of hospital and looking so well, nothing was further from my mind than him having to be re-admitted. Eamon apparently felt the same way too, for he said, ‘You are well now, Pat; that’s all that matters. Michael is fine and has clearly had a nice time at Cathy’s. But haven’t you forgotten something?’

  Patrick looked questioningly at Eamon, who then nodded towards me.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Patrick exclaimed, standing. ‘Thanks. I’d forgotten.’ Patrick left the sitting room and then returned a minute later, carrying a bunch of red roses, which he placed in my lap. ‘Thanks for everything,’ he said, kissing my cheek. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t make dinner on Saturday.’

  I smiled. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘They’re beautiful.’ I was really touched. ‘Do you think I could leave them in water until we go? They
may wilt in this warm room.’

  ‘Of course,’ Colleen said, having returned with a tray of drinks and a plate of biscuits. ‘I’ll stand them in water in the kitchen.’

  I thanked Patrick again as Colleen set the tray on the coffee table, and then took the flowers to the kitchen. Patrick went to the coffee table and, bending over, lifted the lid on the teapot and stirred the tea.

  ‘Milk and sugar?’ he asked me.

  ‘Just milk, please.’

  He stirred the tea again and then began carefully pouring it into the cups before adding milk. I found something very touching in watching Patrick leaning over the coffee table, intent on this homely task: something comfortable, warm and secure. It might have been simply that a man was making me a cup of tea, which hadn’t happened in a long time, or it might have been the care and gentleness with which Patrick performed this task, as he appeared to perform all tasks. Whatever it was, I felt I was being well looked after, pampered almost, as he handed me the cup and saucer, and then began pouring Paula a glass of juice.

  ‘Here, let me help,’ Colleen said to Patrick, returning from taking the flowers to the kitchen.

  ‘No,’ Patrick said. ‘I’m not helpless. You could tell the boys their drinks are ready and then sit yourself down on the sofa. You’ve done enough for me today.’

  Colleen did as Patrick asked and went into the hall, where she called upstairs to the boys that their drinks were ready when they were. ‘Thanks. Be down soon,’ they called. Colleen returned to the sitting room and Patrck handed her a cup of tea and then passed round the plate of biscuits.

  As I sipped my tea I glanced around Patrick’s neat sitting room, which was very comfortable and almost had a ‘woman’s touch’. There were china ornaments on the mantelpiece above an ornate gas fire; framed pictures on the walls, including photographs of Michael and Patrick; a large potted plant in one corner of the room; and a bowl of fresh fruit in the centre of the coffee table.

  ‘He keeps the place very nice, doesn’t he?’ Colleen said, almost reading my thoughts.

  ‘Yes, very,’ I agreed.

  ‘Thank you, ladies,’ Patrick said, laughing. ‘I do my best.’

  ‘So how long have you been fostering?’ Eamon asked me. ‘My sister in Ireland fosters.’

  ‘Oh, does she?’ I asked, interested. It is always good to meet or hear of others who foster.

  ‘She’s been doing it for nearly ten years now. She’s had some very sad cases and also some very difficult children. One lad’s been with her for five years and calls her Mum. It will be dreadful if he has to leave.’

  I agreed it was always difficult saying goodbye to a child and I said I wished more was done to try to keep foster children in touch with their carers. We then chatted generally about fostering – the highs and lows, the rewards and frustrations. Having a sister who fostered, Eamon had some sad stories to tell, for child abuse is worldwide and Ireland was no exception.

  Time passed. Michael and Adrian came downstairs for their drinks and then returned to play upstairs, taking Paula, who’d finally thawed out, with them. Colleen talked about her job in a travel agency and then Eamon said that they were thinking of going on a cruise the following winter. I understood from their conversation that they didn’t have any children, although they’d been married for fifteen years. When Patrick left the room to go to the toilet, Colleen turned to me and said quietly, ‘It’s so sad. First Kathleen and now Patrick. I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Did you know Patrick’s wife?’ I asked her.

  ‘Yes, very well. The four of us were close. Eamon was Patrick’s best man at his wedding and we’re Michael’s godparents.’ Colleen shook her head sadly and looked as though she was about to say more – possibly share her memories or sadness – but the doorbell rang. ‘I wonder who that is?’ she said, standing and crossing the room.

  A few seconds later Eamon and I heard the front door open and Colleen exclaim, ‘Hello, good to see you again. How are you both?’ So I guessed she knew the visitors.

  A male and female voice replied and Eamon said, ‘It’s Pat’s neighbours, Jack and Nora Harvey.’ I remembered Stella mentioning a Mr and Mrs Harvey: Mrs Harvey had let Stella into the house to collect Michael’s clothes while Jack had visited Patrick in hospital. I wondered if it was the same neighbour who’d found Patrick unconscious and had called the ambulance.

  A couple in their late sixties came into the sitting room and Eamon and I stood to greet them. Colleen intrduced me, while Eamon clearly knew them very well.

  ‘Ah, so you’re Cathy,’ Nora said kindly to me. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘And you,’ I said. Jack shook my hand warmly.

  Patrick came down from upstairs and Jack and Nora Harvey turned to greet him. ‘You gave me quite a shock, young man,’ Nora said as Patrick hugged her. ‘Me, coming in with some soup for you and finding you on the floor like that.’

  Patrick laughed at the admonishment. ‘I’ll try not to do it again, Nora.’

  ‘No, you’d better not!’

  Aware these people were old and dear friends of Patrick’s and I was a newcomer, I thought I should go now and leave them all to chat together. I waited until Patrick had finished answering Nora’s question about how he felt, and then I said, ‘Well, it’s been nice meeting you all, but I think I should call the children and go now.’

  ‘Must you?’ Patrick asked, clearly disappointed. ‘Can’t you stay a while longer? I would like it if you could.’ It was a heart-felt request, not a polite formality. ‘Do you have something you have to go to?’ he added.

  ‘Well, no,’ I said. ‘But I don’t want to outstay my welcome.’

  ‘You won’t do that,’ Patrick said quickly. ‘Sit yourself down. The children are playing happily: I checked on them while I was upstairs. I’d like you to get to know my good friends better.’

  So I did as I was told and sat on the sofa and chatted with Patrick’s close friends: Colleen, Eamon, Nora and Jack. They were lovely people, so warm and welcoming, open and honest, and I quickly felt I had known them for years rather than a few hours. To begin with the conversation centred mainly on Patrick’s stay in hospital and how he was feeling, but it soon became clear he didn’t want to dwell on his illness and deflected further questions about his health and what the doctors had said by changing the subject. We talked about holidays, work, fostering and the children. Shortly after five o’clock Colleen disappeared into the kitchen to make another pot of tea and returned with the tea, two plates of sandwiches and a sponge cake, which was unexpected but very nice. The children joined us to eat and then disappeared again to play. Finally, when it was after 6.30 p.m. I said we really had to be going, as I needed to get the children bathed and into bed, ready for school the following day. I also thought Patrick was starting to look tired.

  ‘Yes, I should get Michael into the shower and his bag unpacked,’ Patrick agreed.

  ‘Don’t worry about his bag. I’ll unpack it,’ Colleen offered.

  ‘Thank you,’ Patrick said.

  ‘I’ll call up to Adrian and Paula,’ I said. Standing, I left the sitting room and went to the foot of the stairs. ‘Adrian. Paula,’ I called up the staircase. ‘We need to go now.’

  There was no reply, so I guessed they were playing in Michael’s room with the door closed. I called up again, slightly louder, but there was still reply.

  ‘Go up, Cathy,’ Patrick said from the sitting room. ‘Michael’s room is at the front of the house. You can’t miss it.’

  I went up the carpeted stairs and turned on to the landing. Straight in front, at the end of the landing, was a closed door covered in cut-out pictures and stickers of boys’ action heroes: Batman, Superman, Spiderman, Power Rangers, etc. The door to the bedroom on my left was slightly open and as I passed I glanced in and saw it was Patrick’s bedroom. Emulsion light-grey walls matched the grey-striped duvet, and there were framed photographs on the bedside cabinet. In front of the cabinet and within easy rea
ch of the bed was an oxygen cylinder with a mask. It was a harsh reminder of Patrick’s illness and just for a moment I caught a glimpse of Patrick waking in the night gasping for breath and desperately grabbing the mask.

  I knocked on Michael’s door and turned the handle. ‘Hi,’ I said, going in. ‘It’s time to go now.’

  The children looked up from where they sat cross-legged on the floor around a large Scalextric racing-car circuit. The track was looped in a figure 8 and three electric cars, controlled by the handsets they held, raced around the track.

  ‘Can’t they stay a while longer?’ Michael asked, glancing up.

  ‘Not today, love. It’s gone six thirty and I know your dad wants to get you into the shower. School tomorrow.’

  Michael and Adrian groaned, although I knew they both liked school, and then Paula, feeling it was the thing to do, gave a little groan too. The cars completed another two circuits and then slowly and reluctantly drew to a halt.

  ‘I think you should help Michael pack away,’ I said.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Michael said. ‘I’m allowed to leave my Scalextric up. I play with it after school.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ I said. Then to Adrian and Paula, ‘Say goodbye to Michael.’ For no one was making any move to go.

  The children reluctantly put down their handsets and stood. ‘Bye,’ Adrian and Paula said.

  ‘I’ll come down and see you out,’ Michael said, which I thought was very polite.

  I asked Paula if she needed the bathroom before we left but she said she didn’t, so the three children and I went downstairs and into the sitting room, where I introduced Adrian and Paula to Nora and Jack Harvey, as they hadn’t met them yet. We all said goodbye and then Patrick and Michael saw us to the front door while Patrick’s friends stayed and chatted in the sitting room.