The Silent Cry: There is little Kim can do as her mother's mental health spirals out of control. Cathy Glass
‘It’s not far, and he walks everywhere with me. I don’t have a car and I sold his stroller six months ago as I needed the money.’ I appreciated it must be difficult for her financially, bringing up a child alone.
It was nearly seven o’clock and I said I usually took Paula up for her bath and bed about this time.
‘It’s nearly Darrel’s bedtime too,’ Shelley said. ‘Can I give him his drink of warm milk now?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll show you where everything is in the kitchen.’
Leaving the children playing I took Shelley into the kitchen, showed her around and then left her to warm Darrel’s milk, while I took Paula upstairs to get ready for bed.
‘Baby bed?’ Paula asked.
‘Darrel will be going to bed soon,’ I said, guessing that was what she meant. My reply seemed to satisfy her, for she chuckled.
I gave Paula a quick bath, put her in a clean nappy and then, after lots of hugs and kisses, tucked her into her cot bed. ‘Night, love,’ I said, kissing her soft, warm cheek one last time. ‘Sleep tight and see you in the morning.’
Paula grinned, showing her relatively new front teeth, and I kissed her some more. I said ‘Night-night’ again and finally came out, leaving her bedroom door slightly open so I could hear her if she didn’t settle or woke in the night, although she usually slept through now.
Downstairs Darrel had had his milk and Shelley was in the kitchen, washing up his mug while Darrel played with Adrian in the living room. Shelley looked quite at home in the kitchen and I asked her if she’d like a cup of tea, but she said she’d like to get Darrel to bed first. We went into the living room where she told Darrel it was time for bed. ‘Say goodnight to Adrian,’ she said.
‘Goodnight,’ Darrel said politely, and kissed Adrian’s cheek. Adrian looked slightly embarrassed at having a boy kiss him, but of course Darrel was only three.
‘I’m sorry,’ Shelley said, seeing Adrian’s discomfort. ‘He always kisses me when we say goodnight.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘As Mrs Clause says in Santa Clause: The Movie, “If you give extra kisses, you get bigger hugs!”’
‘That’s lovely,’ Shelley said, clasping her hands together in delight. ‘I’ll have to remember that – “If you give extra kisses, you get bigger hugs!”’
Adrian grinned; he loved that Christmas movie and the saying, as I did.
Shelley and I carried the holdalls upstairs and into Darrel’s room, with Darrel following. Having checked she had everything she needed, I left Shelley to get Darrel ready for bed and went downstairs. I’d got into the routine of putting Paula to bed first and then spending some time with Adrian. He usually read his school book, then we’d play a game or just chat, and then I’d read him a bedtime story and take him up to bed. It was our time together, set aside from the hustle and bustle of him having a younger sister and fostering. Now, as I sat on the sofa with my arm around him, we could hear Shelley moving around upstairs while she saw to Darrel.
‘It’s strange having another mummy in the house,’ Adrian said.
‘Yes, it is,’ I agreed. ‘But it’s rather nice.’ It was touching and reassuring to hear another mother patiently and lovingly tending to the needs of her child.
Once I’d finished reading Adrian his bedtime story, he put the book back on the shelf and then went over to say goodnight to Toscha as he did every night. She was curled on her favourite chair and he gently kissed the top of her furry head once and then twice. ‘Remember, Toscha,’ he said. ‘“If you give extra kisses, you get bigger hugs!”’
‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Although I’d be very surprised if she got up and hugged you.’ Adrian laughed loudly.
‘Mum, you are silly sometimes.’
We went upstairs and while Adrian went to the toilet I checked on Paula. She was fast asleep, flat on her back, with her arms and legs spread out like a little snow angel. I kissed her forehead and crept out, again leaving her door slightly open. Shelley was in Darrel’s room now and through their open door I could hear her telling him that she would only go once he was asleep, and then she’d come back for him as soon as possible the next day. There was anxiety in her voice again, and I hoped it wouldn’t unsettle Darrel, for it could take hours before he went to sleep.
I ran Adrian’s bath and waited while he washed – even at his age I didn’t leave him unattended in the bath for long. I also washed his back, which he often forgot about. Once he was out, dried and dressed in his pyjamas, I went with him to his room. Following our usual routine, he switched on his lamp and I switched off the main light, then I sat on his bed while he snuggled down and settled ready for sleep. He often remembered something he had to tell me at this time that couldn’t wait until the morning. Sometimes it was a worry he’d been harbouring during the day, but more often it was just a general chat – a young, active boy delaying the time when he had to go to sleep. But tonight we heard Shelley talking quietly to Darrel in the room next door.
‘Will Darrel still be here when I come home from school tomorrow?’ Adrian asked.
‘I don’t think so. His mother is hoping to collect him in the early afternoon.’
‘He’s nice, isn’t he?’ Adrian said.
‘Yes, he’s a lovely little boy, just like you.’
Adrian smiled and I stroked his forehead. ‘Time for sleep,’ I said.
Then we both stopped and looked at each other in the half-light as the most beautiful, angelic voice floated in from Darrel’s room. Shelley was singing him a lullaby and her soft, gentle voice caressed the air, pitch perfect and as tender and innocent as a newborn baby – it sent shivers down my spine. First Brahms’s ‘Lullaby’ and then ‘All Through the Night’:
‘Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee,
All through the night,
Guardian angels God will send thee,
All through the night …’
By the time she’d finished my eyes had filled and I swallowed the lump in my throat. It was the most beautiful, soulful singing I’d ever heard, and I felt enriched for having been part of it.
Chapter Four
‘You’ve got a lovely voice,’ I said to Shelley when she finally came downstairs from settling Darrel for the night.
‘Thank you. I wanted to become a professional singer, but that won’t happen now.’
I was in the living room with the curtains closed against the night sky, reading the sheet of paper Shelley had given to me on Darrel’s routine. ‘Would you like that cup of tea now?’ I asked her.
‘Yes, please. Shall I make it?’
‘No, you sit down,’ I said, standing. ‘You’ve had a busy day. Milk and sugar?’
‘Just milk, please.’
‘Would you like something to eat now too?’ I asked. ‘It’s a while since you had dinner.’
‘A biscuit would be nice, thank you,’ Shelley said. ‘I usually have one with a cup of tea when I’ve finished putting Darrel to bed.’
I went through to the kitchen, smiling at the thought of Shelley’s little evening ritual, not dissimilar to my own, of putting the children to bed first and then sitting down and relaxing with a cup of tea and a biscuit. I guessed parents everywhere probably did something similar.
I made the tea, set the cups and a plate of biscuits on a tray and carried it through to the