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The Night the Angels Came

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Год написания книги
2018
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My heart ached at the touching image of Michael caring for his father. ‘Chemo can make you sick,’ I said, and I wondered how long it would be before Paula asked what chemo was.

‘What’s a chemo?’ she said a second later.

‘It’s a very strong medicine that can help people get better,’ I said.

‘It hasn’t helped my dad,’ Michael said quietly.

I didn’t say anything and Paula and Adrian fell quiet too, and I thought how much Michael had had to cope with in his short life compared to the average child.

We arrived at the car and I opened the rear door and the children climbed in. The children were quiet on the journey home and I was deep in thought. Not only was I concerned and sad for Michael but I was also thinking about Patrick. How ill was he? Jill had said he’d collapsed and a neighbour had found him, which could mean anything from a faint to a coma. Would he be able to leave hospital after the weekend, as Jill’s comment had suggested, or was he going to need a longer stay? Patrick had been doing so well on the two occasions I’d met him and should have been coming to dinner on Saturday instead of being rushed to hospital. I knew I was going to have to be very strong for Michael, for if I was worrying goodness knew what Michael must be thinking as he sat silently next to Adrian staring through the side window.

It would be nice to say that when we arrived home Adrian’s and Paula’s naturally happy disposition took over and we all brightened up, but that didn’t happen. As I unlocked the front door and we filed into the house the cloud of Michael’s sadness came with us. Michael stood in the hall with his bag on one shoulder looking so very sad, lost and alone, while Adrian and Paula, who usually ran off playing before I’d closed the front door, stood subdued on either side of him.

‘Take your shoes and coats off,’ I encouraged. ‘Michael, you can leave your school bag here in the hall, love, or take it up to your room. It’s up to you.’

He dropped it where I pointed, in the recess in the hall; then he took off his shoes and jacket, which I hung on the coat stand. Adrian and Paula took off their shoes and coats and the three of them looked at me.

‘Adrian, would you like to get a game from the cupboard while I make dinner?’ I suggested.

He shrugged. ‘Can’t we watch television?’

‘Yes, if that’s what you’d all like to do.’

They nodded. ‘Does anyone want a drink and a snack first?’

They looked at each other and shrugged again; then Adrian led the way into the sitting room to watch television while I went to the kitchen to make dinner.

Not having any news of Patrick was in some ways worse than having bad news because my thoughts went into overdrive and I kept imagining the worst. I could hear the television in the background as I worked in the kitchen and I assumed the children’s thoughts were safely occupied with the programme. But after fifteen minutes as I was peeling potatoes Adrian rushed in.

‘Mum, come quickly,’ he said. ‘Michael and Paula are crying.’

I left what I was doing and flew into the sitting room. Michael was sitting on the sofa, staring blindly at the television, with tears streaming silently down his cheeks. Paula sat next to him, her little arms looped around his shoulders, trying to comfort him but also in tears.

‘Adrian, can you turn off the television for now, please?’ I said. I went over to the sofa and, lifting Paula to one side, positioned myself between the two of them. I linked one arm around Michael’s waist, who remained sitting stiffly upright, and my other arm around Paula, who snuggled into my side.

‘It’s all right,’ I soothed gently. ‘It’s OK to be upset. I understand.’

‘I miss my dad,’ Michael said. ‘I want to be with him.’

‘I know you do, love. If I haven’t heard anything from Stella soon I’ll phone and see if there is any news, and ask her when you can visit.’

‘My dad needs me,’ Michael said, his brow creasing. ‘We’re never apart.’ As well as hearing Michael’s deep sadness at their separation I heard his anxiety and sense of responsibility for his father.

‘Your dad is being very well looked after by the doctors and nurses,’ I reassured him. ‘You’ve done so much caring for your dad and now it’s their turn to help.’

‘Why didn’t they phone me instead of taking him to hospital?’ Michael asked, as though he was responsible for his dad being admitted to hospital. ‘I look after him when he’s unwell.’

‘I know you do, love, and you do a fantastic job, but sometimes people need what a hospital can offer. The doctors and nurses can do more there.’ Michael was still sitting upright and rigid, as though trying to keep his grief under control and accepting my hug would be a sign of weakness.

‘Are the doctors making Michael’s daddy better?’ Paula asked, still snuggled into my side. Her tears were subsiding now she’d had some reassurance from me.

‘The doctors are making sure Patrick is very comfortable,’ I said carefully, for in truth I’d no idea how Patrick was.

‘And you’ll phone?’ Michael asked.

‘Yes, I’m expecting your social worker to phone me but if she doesn’t by the time I’ve finished preparing dinner, then I’ll phone her.’

‘Mum will,’ Adrian confirmed. He was sitting in the chair opposite, sombrely watching us. ‘Mum always does what she says.’ Which I thought was sweet and showed Adrian had confidence in me despite my failings.

‘What time will you phone?’ Michael persisted.

I glanced at the clock. ‘If I haven’t heard anything I’ll phone at five thirty,’ which seemed to reassure Michael at little. He gave a small nod and then wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve. ‘I’ll get you a tissue,’ I said.

Giving them both a little hug, which Michael resisted, I stood and fetched the box of tissues, and Michael and Paula took a few each.

‘Do you want the television on?’ Adrian asked Michael. ‘Or do you want to play something?’

Michael shrugged. ‘Don’t mind.’

‘Why don’t you and Paula take Michael to where all the toys are and the three of you can choose something?’ I said to Adrian. I thought that hunting through the cupboards, drawers and boxes of toys and games would provide a distraction and occupy their thoughts if nothing else.

Adrian stood, Michael and Paula followed, and the three of them went off to the conservatory-cum-playroom, where most of the toys were kept, while I returned to the kitchen to continue with the preparation of dinner. It was nearly 5.15 before the phone rang and I grabbed the extension in the kitchen. My stomach churned as I heard Stella’s voice.

‘Good and bad news,’ she said. ‘Patrick has regained consciousness but he doesn’t want Michael to visit him.’

Chapter Eight Michael’s Daddy (#ulink_800d5848-332b-55f3-8092-f986e97b1e3f)

‘Patrick’s red blood cell count is very low, which is why he collapsed,’ Stella continued. ‘He’s having a blood transfusion. He’s feeling pretty rough at present and is on a ward with some very ill people. He doesn’t want Michael to see him there, as he thinks it will worry him more. If all goes well Patrick should be out of hospital on Monday. Apparently Michael has never seen his dad in hospital before and Patrick wants to keep it that way for as long as is possible.’

‘I see,’ I said doubtfully. ‘I’m not sure stopping Michael from visiting is a good idea. Michael is desperate to see his dad. I think seeing him on a hospital ward with other ill people won’t be as bad as not seeing him at all.’

‘Yes, I know, I tend to agree, but Patrick wants to protect Michael for as long as he can. And we have to respect his wishes.’ Which I had to accept. ‘Patrick would like to phone Michael later this evening. Is it all right if I give him your landline number?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Will you explain to Michael what I’ve told you? And also tell him that I’ll bring him a change of school clothes and what he needs for the weekend this evening. Patrick gave me a list of what Michael needs over the phone. I’m going to their house ‘ now; a neighbour has a key. Then I’ll come on to you. I won’t be there for another hour or so. Is that all right with you?’

‘Yes. Does Patrick have what he needs in hospital?’ I asked, mindful that he had been rushed in unconscious without time to pack an overnight bag.

‘The neighbour’s husband is taking in what he needs. I won’t speak to Michael now, as I have to get going. Explain to him, please, and I’ll see him later.’

‘I will.’

I replaced the phone in its cradle on the kitchen wall and was about to go through to the sitting room to tell the children what was happening when Michael appeared, having heard the phone ring. His face was tight and anxious and I knew he was expecting bad news. ‘It’s all right,’ I reassured him quickly. ‘Your dad is doing fine. He’s having a blood transfusion and should be able to leave hospital on Monday.’ His face brightened a little. ‘Do you know what a blood transfusion is?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘When can I see him?’

‘Your dad is going to phone you later, here, but as he’s only in hospital for the weekend he’s told Stella there’s no need for you to visit him. He’ll see you at home as soon as he comes out.’
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