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The Silent Cry: Part 1 of 3: There is little Kim can do as her mother's mental health spirals out of control
Cathy Glass
The heartbreaking true story of a young, troubled mother who needed help.The sixteenth fostering memoir by Cathy Glass.It is the first time Laura has been out since the birth of her baby when Cathy sees her in the school playground. A joyful occasion but Cathy has the feeling something is wrong. By the time she discovers what it is, it is too late. This is the true story of Laura whose life touches Cathy’s in a way she could never have foreseen. It is also the true stories of little Darrel, Samson and Hayley who she fosters when their parents need help. Some stories can have a happy ending and others cannot, but as a foster carer Cathy can only do her best.
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Copyright (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the children.
HarperElement
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published by HarperElement 2016
FIRST EDITION
© Cathy Glass 2016
A catalogue record of this book is
available from the British Library
Cover image © Krasimira Petrova Shishkova/Trevillion Images (posed by model)
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016
Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be
identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780008153717
Ebook Edition © February 2016 ISBN: 9780008156572
Version: 2016-03-04
Contents
Cover (#u1c2261c7-71ad-5181-b42e-7c547fd5f087)
Title Page (#ulink_1251ef3a-a4ba-58da-8cec-b2f5d0cac9bb)
Copyright (#ulink_c8ed5650-75a9-59c0-9a18-a99a37a0b332)
Acknowledgements (#ulink_6d63d7bf-d5be-5161-93a8-0ef2e80b4948)
Prologue (#ulink_b3faed38-69a8-5dad-9ead-ca49254a7f59)
Chapter One: A Funny Turn (#ulink_e416ae7e-3eed-5ccc-aea5-e8feca1b0a97)
Chapter Two: Very Concerned (#ulink_1c8af3e4-2f3f-5efc-9d30-7ff959bdf881)
Chapter Three: Lullaby at Bedtime (#ulink_334c8454-40b0-5e45-837c-4e4cab4bf789)
Chapter Four: Shelley (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five: A Very Strange Phone Call (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six: Useless (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven: Upset (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight: A Playmate? (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine: Samson (#litres_trial_promo)
Moving Memoirs eNewsletter (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
A big thank you to my family; my editors, Carolyn and Holly; my literary agent, Andrew; my UK publishers HarperCollins, and my overseas publishers who are now too numerous to list by name. Last, but definitely not least, a big thank you to my readers for your unfailing support and kind words.
Prologue (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
The room is dark, although it’s daylight outside. Strangely dark and eerily quiet. Not a sound when there should be noise. Crying and screaming, that’s what she was expecting to hear. And the room seems smaller now too, as though the walls are gradually closing in and crushing her, crushing her to death.
She sits huddled at one end of the sofa, too scared to look around. Scared of what she might see in this unnaturally dark and quiet room that is threatening to squeeze the air out of her and squash her to nothing. Scared, too, of what lies ahead if she stands and goes to the telephone to make that call, and tells them what she’s done. They will come and take her baby for sure if she tells them that she has given birth to the devil.
Chapter One
A Funny Turn (#u790336bf-6d47-51d8-8fde-58ac855e3f41)
Everyone loves a newborn baby and wants a little look. Even those who protest that they are not ‘baby lovers’ can’t resist a peep at the miracle of a new life. I joined the other mothers grouped around the pram in the school playground as we waited with our children for the start of school.
‘Congratulations, he’s gorgeous,’ I said, adding my own best wishes to the many others.
‘Thank you,’ Laura (the new mum) said quietly, a little bemused by all the attention.
‘How old is he now?’ I asked.
‘Two weeks.’
‘Aah, he’s adorable.’
‘Make the most of every moment,’ another mother said. ‘They grow up far too quickly.’
My own daughter, Paula, aged thirteen months, was sitting in the stroller and wanted to have a look too, so I unclipped the safety harness and lifted her out so she could see into the pram.
‘Baby,’ she said cutely, pointing.
‘Yes, that’s baby Liam,’ I said.
‘Baby Liam,’ she repeated with a little chuckle.
‘You were that small once,’ I said, and she chuckled again.
‘He’s my baby brother,’ Kim, Laura’s daughter, said proudly.
‘I know. Aren’t you a lucky girl?’ I said to her, returning Paula to her stroller.
Kim nodded and touched her baby brother’s face protectively, then planted a delicate little kiss on his cheek.
The family had moved into the street where I lived about a year before. Laura and I had got to know each other a little from seeing each other on the way to and from school. My son Adrian, aged five, attended this school but was in a different year to Kim, who was seven. Living quite close to each other I kept meaning to invite Laura in for a coffee and develop our friendship, but I hadn’t found the opportunity, what with looking after my own family, fostering and studying for a degree part-time. I guessed Laura had been busy too, especially now she had a baby.
Amid all the oohings and aahings over little Liam the Klaxon sounded the start of school and parents began saying goodbye to their children.
‘Bye, love,’ I said to Adrian, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Have a good day. Make sure you eat your lunch, and have a drink.’ He’d only been in school a year and I still fussed over him.
‘Bye, Mum. Bye, Paula,’ he said, and ran over to join his class who were lining up, ready to go in.
‘Bye, little Liam,’ Kim said, leaning into the pram again to give her brother one last kiss. She clearly didn’t want to leave him. ‘See you later. Be a good boy for Mummy.’ I smiled.
‘Cathy,’ Laura said suddenly, clutching my arm. ‘I feel a bit hot. I’m going to get a drink of water. Could you stay with the pram, please?’
She turned and walked quickly towards the water fountain situated in an alcove at the far end of the building. Kim looked at me anxiously.
‘Don’t worry, love. I’ll make sure your mum is all right. You go into school.’
She hesitated, but then ran over to join her class, who were going in. I could see Laura at the fountain, leaning forward and sipping the cool water. I thought I should go over in case she was feeling faint. She’d only given birth two weeks before and I could remember how I’d sometimes suddenly felt hot and dizzy in the first few weeks after having both of my children. Pushing Paula’s stroller with my right hand and Liam’s pram with my left, I steered them across the playground to the water fountain. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked Laura as we approached.
‘Oh, yes, thank you,’ she said, straightening and wiping her mouth on a tissue. ‘I came over a bit funny. I’m all right now.’
I thought she looked pale. ‘Why don’t you sit down for a while? The children are going in.’ There were a couple of benches in the playground that the children used at playtime.
‘No, I’m all right, honestly. I just felt a bit hot and panicky. I think it was all the attention, and it is warm today.’
‘Yes, it is warm for May,’ I agreed. ‘But make sure you don’t overdo it.’
She tucked the tissue into her pocket and shook her hair from her face. ‘My husband and mother-in-law said it was too soon for me to be out and about. I guess they were right. But I was getting cabin fever staying at home all the time. I needed a change of scenery.’ She put her hands onto the pram handle ready for the off.
‘Are you going straight home?’ I asked. ‘I’ll walk with you.’
‘Yes, but there’s no need. I’ll be fine.’
‘I’d like to,’ I said. ‘I walk by your house on the way to mine.’
‘All right. Thanks.’ She flicked her hair from her face again and we began across the playground to the main gate. Laura was a tall, attractive woman, whom I guessed to be in her mid-thirties, and she was very slim despite recently giving birth. She had naturally wavy, shoulder-length brown hair, which was swept away from her forehead.
‘Is Liam sleeping and feeding well?’ I asked, making conversation as we walked.
‘Baby,’ Paula repeated, pointing to his pram travelling along beside her.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said to her. ‘Baby Liam.’
‘I’m up every three hours at night feeding him,’ Laura said. ‘But you expect that with a newborn, don’t you?’
I nodded. ‘It’s very tiring. I remember craving sleep in the first few months. If someone had offered me a night out at a top-class restaurant or seven hours unbroken sleep, I would have gone for the latter without a doubt.’
‘Agreed,’ Laura said with a small smile.
We were silent for a few moments as we concentrated on crossing the road, and then we turned the corner and began up our street. ‘How do you like living here?’ I asked, resuming conversation.
‘Fine. It’s nearer Andy’s – my husband’s – job, and his family. My mother-in-law only lives five streets away.’
‘Is that the lady I’ve seen in the playground, collecting Kim from school?’ I asked out of interest.
‘Yes. Geraldine. She’s very helpful. I don’t know what I’d do without her.’
‘It’s good to have help,’ I said. ‘My parents help me out when they can, but they live an hour’s drive away, and my husband’s family are even further away.’
‘Yes,’ Laura said, looking thoughtful. ‘My mother lives over a hundred miles away. You foster, don’t you?’
‘I do, although I’m taking a few months off at present to finish my degree. After our last foster child left my husband accepted a contract to work abroad for three months, so it seemed a good opportunity to study. The social services know I’m available for an emergency or for respite care, but I’m hoping I won’t be disturbed too often.’
‘What’s respite?’ Laura asked, interested.
‘It’s when a foster carer looks after a child for a short period to give the parents or another foster carer a break. It might just be for a weekend or a week or two, but then the child returns home or to their permanent carer.’
‘I see. It’s good of you to foster.’
‘Not really. I enjoy it. But I must admit I’ve been struggling recently to study and foster, with Paula being so little. Hopefully I’ll now have the chance to complete my dissertation.’
‘What are you studying?’
