The Silent Cry Read online

  Paula paused as usual outside number 53 and rattled the garden gate. ‘Baby,’ she said, recognizing the house.

  ‘Yes, baby Liam lives there,’ I said. I glanced at the windows, but there was no sign of anyone.

  She took another couple of steps up the street and then stopped to examine a weed that was sprouting between the paving slabs.

  ‘It’s a weed,’ Darrel said. ‘There are lots of them!’

  And so we continued our meandering journey home.

  Chapter Five

  A Very Strange Phone Call

  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 s
he thanked me again and then to my horror said: ‘I feel well enough to go and get the bus now.’

  ‘There’s no way you’re going home on the bus,’ I said, dismayed. ‘If you don’t want to wait until I return from collecting Adrian, when I can take you in the car, then I’ll call a cab.’

  ‘I’d really like to get home and get settled, and then have an early night,’ she said, which I could understand.

  ‘OK, I’ll call a cab then,’ I said, standing. Without waiting for further protest I went to the phone in the living room and booked the cab with a lady driver, then, returning to Shelley, I gave her money for the fare. Needless to say, she thanked me profusely.

  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 thought
s 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.’

  ‘Love you more.’

  Chapter Six

  Useless

  On Monday morning I was going to ask Geraldine if it would be convenient for me to pop in and see Laura on the way back from school, but she left the playground before I had a chance to speak to her. Laura’s phone call on Friday had played on my mind over the weekend and I wanted to just say hi to her and make sure she was all right. I decided I’d stop by anyway, and if it wasn’t convenient I could arrange to go back another time. I bought a bunch of flowers for Laura from the local supermarket and once we’d crossed the road I let Paula out of her stroller to walk. It was 9.40 by the time we arrived outside number 53.