The Silent Cry: There is little Kim can do as her mother's mental health spirals out of control

While Shelley stayed with the children I quickly went round the house gathering together Darrel’s belongings and packing them into his bags, which I put in the hall. Fifteen minutes later the cab arrived and the driver helped Shelley with the bags while I took Darrel and Paula to the car. Shelley and Darrel climbed into the rear of the cab and Shelley fastened their seatbelts. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said again.

‘You’re welcome, love. Take care.’

‘Say goodbye and thank you to Cathy,’ she told Darrel.

‘Bye, and thank you,’ he said adorably.

‘We’ve all enjoyed having you to stay,’ I said.

‘Thanks for everything, and thank Adrian for playing with Darrel,’ Shelley said.

‘I will.’

I closed the cab door and Paula and I waved until the cab was out of sight. Although Darrel was obviously pleased to be going home, Paula looked sad. But goodbyes are part of fostering, and it was important that Paula was included in this, for a good farewell is as important as welcoming a child when they first arrive. Yet I’ll admit I felt sad too. Even if a child is only with you a short while, as Darrel had been, they touch your life and you don’t forget them. I would remember Darrel and Shelley in the years to come and wonder how they were doing. If I saw them again then that would be a huge bonus, but it couldn’t be guaranteed, and as a foster carer I had to accept that.

I returned indoors with Paula and then it was time to collect Adrian from school. I persuaded her into the stroller with the promise that she could walk some of the way back. As we waited in the playground I saw Geraldine arrive in good time and then as usual stand alone, separate from the other parents, as she waited for school to end. The Klaxon sounded and Adrian ran out amid the hubbub and excitement of Friday afternoon and the start of the weekend. But as he neared I could see him looking for Darrel.

‘He’s just gone home with his mother,’ I said. ‘They said to say goodbye and thank you for looking after Darrel.’

‘Oh, OK,’ he said. ‘Pity I couldn’t have said goodbye.’

‘I know.’ Then I distracted him by talking about the busy weekend we had coming up. We were going to visit my parents on Saturday and then Adrian had been invited to a friend’s football birthday party on Sunday. I reminded him that the present needed wrapping and the card had to be written and suggested we did it that evening.

Once we’d crossed the road and entered our street I let Paula out of the stroller. There was no sign of Geraldine and Kim ahead of or behind us. Perhaps they’d stopped off at the shop. However, as we passed number 53 I saw that their front door was wide open. I glanced in but couldn’t see anyone in the hall. We continued our slow, faltering walk past and then a few steps further up I heard a loud bang as a door slammed shut behind me. I instinctively turned. A middle-aged man in a suit and tie was storming down the front garden path of Laura’s house. He was clearly annoyed – his face was set and his body tense as he thrust a fob at the car parked in the kerb outside their house. He jumped in, immediately started the engine and the car tyres screeched as it pulled away and sped past us.

‘That car’s going far too fast,’ Adrian remarked.

‘Yes, it is,’ I agreed.

I had no idea what Laura’s husband looked like – I barely knew her – and if it was her husband and they’d had an argument then it was none of my business. Or was it? How many neighbours when interviewed after a tragic domestic incident exonerate themselves by saying that the family seemed pleasant but kept themselves to themselves. I already had some concerns about Laura, and perhaps as a result of fostering and having to piece together snippets of information from children who were trying to tell me what they had been through (they rarely tell the full story all in one go), I’d become more adept at looking at the wider picture. But on the other hand you can’t jump to conclusions and phone the social services just because you have a suspicion that all is not well in a family. You need some evidence.

Half an hour later, after we’d arrived home, the telephone rang. I wasn’t thinking about Laura at that moment and I didn’t make the connection when I heard a female voice say rather loudly, ‘Is that Cathy?’

‘Yes?’ I said tentatively.

‘You don’t recognize me, do you? It’s Laura from number 53.’

‘Oh, hello. How are you?’ I was completely thrown. It didn’t sound like her at all.

‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Really good. I thought I’d give you a ring. Do you remember you left your phone number with my mother-in-law and said to phone for a chat?’

‘Yes, of course.’ But it was an odd time to phone for a chat. Most parents with a young family were occupied at this time making dinner or seeing to their children. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, fine, good. How are you? I haven’t been going to school. Geraldine’s been taking and collecting Kim. She says I have to rest. My husband Andy says so too. They agree about most things. So I’m doing what I’m told. Like a good girl. That’s why you haven’t seen me. But I’m fine. We’re all fine …’ And her words continued, fast and furious, fired at me in short, staccato sentences and not ‘chatty’ at all. She sounded hyper, agitated. ‘So Geraldine, my mother-in-law, is looking after us all,’ she continued. ‘Me, Kim, Andy and little Liam. She’s doing a great job.’

‘How is Liam?’ I asked, forcing a gap.

‘He’s fine. Well, like a baby. Eating, sleeping, crying. But Geraldine takes care of that. Many thanks to Geraldine, I say. She’s a natural with children. I think some people are, don’t you?’

‘Is Geraldine with you now?’ I interjected.

‘Who?’

‘Geraldine. Your mother-in-law. Is she with you now?’

‘Yes, of course. Why do you ask? She’s here most days while Andy is at work. Andy is my husband. Sometimes she stays after he comes home to make sure he has his dinner. But that’s mothers for you. They never stop fussing over their little boys. Although what would I know? Kim is a girl. But Geraldine is great. In fact, it was she who suggested I phone you. She thought I should.’

‘Why?’

‘Oh, you know. For a chat. To tell you I’m OK. In fact, we’re all OK. Me, Andy, Liam and Kim. We’re doing fine. I believe you saw Kim at the shop? She’s a good girl, helps me out sometimes. But we won’t mention that, will we?’ And she gave a small, high-pitched laugh.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ I asked.

‘No, nothing you can do.’

‘I was thinking of popping in to see you next week.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, you can if you like, but really there’s no need. I’m fine. We all are. Couldn’t be better.’

‘What day suits you?’ I began.

‘Not sure. Have to go now. Bye.’ The line went dead.

I stood for a moment, completely bemused, then slowly returned the handset to its cradle. It was one of the strangest telephone calls I’d ever received. Whatever was all that about? Why had she phoned? I had no idea. The Laura I’d spoken to while walking back from school had been quiet, shy and a little withdrawn, whereas this Laura was gushy and completely over the top. It didn’t sound like the same person. I didn’t think she was drunk, although she had sounded confused and had repeated herself. But Geraldine was with her, presumably helping her, so I put Laura out of my thoughts for the time being and concentrated on my family.

After dinner I played some games with the children and then began Paula’s bath and bedtime routine. Later, when she was asleep, I lay propped on Adrian’s bed and we had our little chat before he settled for the night. He suddenly asked, ‘I wonder what Darrel is doing now.’

‘I expect he’s asleep,’ I said.

‘Do you think his mummy sings to him every night?’

‘Yes, although maybe not tonight, as her mouth is sore.’

‘What’s that tune called?’ Adrian asked. ‘The one that goes like this.’ He began humming one of the lullabies Shelley had sung.

‘Brahms’s “Lullaby”,’ I said. ‘It is beautiful, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. I wish you could sing it like Shelley,’ Adrian said.

‘So do I.’ I smiled. ‘She’s got a lovely voice. Perhaps we could hum it together? Let’s try.’

I put my arm around him and in the light of the lamp we began humming the haunting melody of the lullaby, which has become a classic for children everywhere. It didn’t sound too bad at all. And I hoped that the sentiment in our tune carried through the night air and touched Shelley and Darrel, so that they knew we were thinking about them.

‘Night, Shelley and Darrel,’ Adrian said as we finished. ‘Night, Mum.’

‘Night, love. Sleep tight.’

‘Love you.’