The Silent Cry: There is little Kim can do as her mother's mental health spirals out of control. Cathy Glass
Five
Once home, I kept Darrel and Paula entertained with various games and activities, and then at eleven o’clock I gave both children a drink and a snack, before putting Paula in her cot for a little nap. While she slept I read to Darrel from books he chose from our bookshelves, and then we had a few rounds of the card game Snap, which he was learning to play. He asked about his mummy a couple of times and I reassured him that she was being well looked after and he’d see her before too long, so he wasn’t upset. I knew from Shelley’s notes that he had his lunch at about 12.30 p.m., so once Paula was awake I got her up and cooked vegetarian sausages, mash and peas for us all. I’d just set the food on the table when the doorbell rang.
‘Mummy?’ Darrel asked.
‘I think it’s a bit early yet,’ I said. ‘Stay here and I’ll check.’
Leaving the children at the table, I went down the hall to answer the door. To my surprise it was Shelley, looking very pale, with one side of her face swollen and a bloody tissue pressed to her lips.
‘Oh, love,’ I said, concerned and drawing her in. ‘Whyever didn’t you phone me to collect you? I hope you haven’t come on the bus.’
‘I got a cab,’ she mumbled, stepping in and barely able to speak. ‘I used the rest of the money you gave me.’ It obviously hurt her when she spoke.
‘Have you taken something for the pain?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘Paracetamol.’
‘Mummy!’ Darrel cried, having heard his mother’s voice. He left the table and ran into the hall but stopped dead when he saw her swollen face.
‘It’s all right,’ I reassured him. ‘Mummy’s mouth is sore, but she’ll be better soon. I think she needs looking after.’ I took her hand and led her down the hall and into the living room. As we passed Darrel she managed a wonky smile, but he looked very concerned. ‘Mummy’s going to have a quiet sit down while you have your lunch,’ I said, settling her on the sofa.
‘Thank you,’ she said, sitting back with a small sigh.
‘Can I get you anything?’ I asked.
‘A glass of water, please.’ She winced as she spoke and put her hand to her face.
‘You sit there and I’ll fetch it,’ I said. Then to Darrel, ‘Come with me. We’ll leave Mummy to have a rest.’
He hesitated.
‘Go on, love,’ Shelley said. ‘Good boy.’
He slipped his hand into mine and I took him to the dining table, where Paula was still seated and making a good attempt to feed herself using her toddler fork and spoon. ‘Good girl,’ I said, returning the peas to her plate.
Darrel picked up his knife and fork and began eating, while I went into the kitchen and poured Shelley a glass of water. I added a straw to make drinking it a little easier, then took the glass through to the living room.
‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully, and gingerly took a few sips before handing it back to me. She sighed and rested her head back on the sofa.
‘Would you like to go upstairs for a lie down?’ I suggested.
‘I’ll just sit here for a bit if that’s all right.’
‘Yes, of course.’ I set her glass of water on the coffee table within her reach and also a box of tissues. ‘Do you want anything else?’ I asked. She shook her head and her eyelids began to close. ‘Call me if you need anything,’ I said. She nodded and I came out closing the door behind me so the children and I wouldn’t disturb her. I thought a sleep would do her good; having an anaesthetic can leave you feeling very tired.
‘Mummy is having a rest,’ I said to Darrel as I returned to the table. ‘She’ll be all right soon, so you have your lunch and when she wakes we’ll tell her what a good boy you’ve been.’
He looked concerned but continued eating. Paula dropped a lump of mashed potato in her lap and tried to pick it up. She laughed as it squashed between her fingers, which made Darrel smile too. He ate all his meal and Paula ate her mash and peas but left some of the sausage. It was the first time she’d had a vegetarian sausage, so it was a new taste and texture for her, but at least she’d tried it. Darrel had one of the yoghurts his mother had brought for his pudding and Paula had a fromage frais. Once they’d finished I went into the living room to check on Shelley. She was fast asleep with her head resting on the sofa back and her mouth slightly open. I crept out and quietly closed the door. I suggested to Darrel that the three of us play something at the table so we wouldn’t disturb his mother. ‘Do you like Play-Doh?’ I asked him. I’d never met a child who didn’t.
‘I have Play-Doh at my house,’ he said enthusiastically.
I cleared the dishes from the table, covered it with a protective plastic tablecloth and took out the Play-Doh set. Once they were both occupied I went into the kitchen, where I could still see them, and cleared up, then I joined in their play at the table. Darrel was concentrating on feeding blue Play-Doh through the toy machine and creating different shapes. Some of it came out as long, thin strands like spaghetti and he pretended to eat it, which made Paula laugh.
I checked on Shelley again, but she was still fast asleep. If necessary I could leave her sleeping and take Darrel with me when I collected Adrian from school, but that wasn’t for another hour. When Darrel and Paula had tired of the Play-Doh we packed it away and I showed Darrel the toy cupboard and let him choose something else to play with. He picked a jigsaw puzzle of a farmyard scene and I took out an early-years puzzle for Paula. The three of us sat at the table assembling the puzzles. When Darrel had completed his I praised him and he packed it away and took out another one. Five minutes later I heard the door to the living room open and then Shelley came in carrying her empty glass of water. ‘How are you feeling, love?’ I said. Darrel looked at her anxiously.
‘A bit better now, thanks,’ she said, trying to raise a smile. ‘I need to take a couple more paracetamol. Can I have another glass of water, please?’
‘Yes, of course. Sit down. I’ll get it.’
She sat at the table and as I poured the water I could see Darrel looking at her anxiously. It’s difficult for a child to see their usually strong parent compromised and vulnerable. ‘That’s a good puzzle,’ she said, trying to divert his attention. ‘See if you can finish it before we go.’
I handed her the glass of water and she took two tablets. ‘Could you manage something to eat now?’ I asked. ‘Soup? I could break up some bread to put in. That would be easy to eat.’
‘Oh, yes, please,’ she said gratefully. ‘I couldn’t have anything before the operation and I am hungry. But are you sure I’m not keeping you?’
‘Not at all. I don’t have to collect Adrian for three-quarters of an hour, and you’re more than welcome to stay here while I get him. I can take you home in the car after.’
‘The doctor said I mustn’t have anything too hot,’ she added as I went into the kitchen. ‘Because of the stitches.’
‘Stitches?’ Darrel asked, worried.
‘Yes, to help make my mouth get better,’ Shelley said, reassuring him.
She sat at the table and watched the children playing as I warmed some cream of tomato soup, buttered some bread and cut it into small chunks to dunk in the soup. I carried it through and set in on the table with a spoon.
‘Thank you,’ Shelley said again. ‘You are kind to me.’ Bless her, I thought. She was such a sweet kid. I wished I could have done more for her.
I played with the children while she ate, and once she’d finished she thanked me again and then to my