A Baby's Cry (36 page)

Setting the case on the ground I unzipped the lid and, opening the wardrobe door, began taking out and packing Harrison’s clothes. As I worked my thoughts went to Harrison’s first night with us, when, having settled him in his cot in my bedroom, I’d come in here and opened this case. I remembered my surprise when I’d seen it full of brand-new boy’s baby clothes – every size from newborn to twelve months. I remembered the letter I’d found that Rihanna had tucked into the case and which had been addressed:
Dear Foster Carer
. My heart went out to her now, as it had then, as I thought of that letter, so full of love, tenderness and concern, explaining that she’d sent enough clothes for Harrison’s first year, believing he would then be adopted. I remembered the dreadful sadness and hopelessness that had spilled from her words – the words of a grieving mother who’d desperately sought a way to keep her baby but had been forced to give him up. I was so pleased for Rihanna now, so very glad her story could have a happy ending and that I was now packing to send Harrison home. But if I was so happy, why was I crying?

My vision blurred with silent tears, for as Harrison was returning to his mother so he was leaving us. I continued packing his little clothes just as lovingly as his mother had done all that time ago. The little white cap and pale blue sleepsuit he’d been wearing when I’d collected him from the hospital; the white blanket he’d been wrapped in. His tiny first-size bootees, vests and mittens; it seemed incredible that big as he was now he’d once fitted into these. Little pyjamas with pictures of Paddington Bear; a romper suit with a motif of Thomas the Tank engine and a matching shirt and jumper. These were all clothes Rihanna had bought for him and which, following her wishes, I’d dressed him in every day. They would now be returned to her, together with the clothes he hadn’t yet grown into. As I worked I sensed the loss and emptiness Rihanna must have felt as she’d packed this case, believing she was losing her son forever.

Once the wardrobe and drawers were clear I zipped shut the case and wiped my eyes. Feeling as empty as the room was I came out and closed the door. I went downstairs, took the pole for the loft hatch from the cupboard under the stairs and returned to the landing, where I opened the loft. Taking one section at a time, I heaved the cot piecemeal up the ladders and into the loft, stacking it where it had originally come from; then I returned down the ladders for the other items. Once the landing was clear I closed the loft hatch and returned the pole to the cupboard.

With the baby equipment in the loft and Harrison’s belongings packed, ready to be collected the following morning, I wandered into the sitting room, where the photographs of Harrison looked at me from the mantelpiece and wall. The photograph on the wall was framed and part of a display that included photographs of Adrian, Paula, my family and other children we’d looked after, though none had been as young as Harrison. I had many more photographs in albums and I now took from the shelf the one I’d begun when Harrison had first arrived. Sitting on the sofa I opened the first page and looked at the photographs. Harrison, only two days old, fast asleep in his pram with his little fist pressed to his chin as though he was deep in thought. Then pictures of him a week old, ten days; I continued to turn the pages. Some of the photographs were copies of those I’d given to Rihanna while others were personal to us: family photographs showing Adrian, Paula, my parents, my brother, his wife and me at family occasions – birthdays, outings, in our homes and gardens – all of which included Harrison, who of course had been one of my family. My vision blurred again. Dear Harrison, or Harry as Paula liked to call him, how dearly he would be missed. While we’d always known that eventually he would leave us, it didn’t make it any easier, for the love of a family is unconditional and can’t be turned on and off at will.

I cried quietly until my tears were spent and, then feeling a little better and able to give Adrian and Paula the comfort and support they would need, I left for school. As I entered the playground Mrs Wilson, the school’s welfare lady, made her way across the playground, clearly wanting to speak to me.

‘Just to let you know Paula stayed with me for half an hour this morning and then joined her class,’ she said reassuringly.

‘Thank you.’

‘I’ve been keeping an eye on her. I can appreciate why she was so upset. I don’t know how you do it, keep having to say goodbye to the children you look after.’

‘Neither do I,’ I said, and swallowed hard.

Adrian and Paula had become used to me arriving in the playground without Harrison, as we’d been collecting him from his mother’s after school, so it wasn’t until we were in the car heading for home rather than Rihanna’s flat that they realized this was different.

‘Oh!’ Adrian said. ‘Harrison’s sleeping at his mother’s tonight.’

‘Yes, he is,’ I confirmed.

‘Harry’s gone now, hasn’t he?’ Paula said.

‘Yes. His mother will collect his belongings tomorrow. I’ve packed them, and put all the baby equipment in the loft.’

They fell silent and when we arrived home they were quiet, and then went tentatively from room to room peering in to see what had changed.

‘Harry’s high chair has gone,’ Paula called from the kitchen. Then going into the sitting room where Harry’s playmat and toys had previously covered most of the floor: ‘It’s empty without him.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘It is.’

I then suggested to Adrian and Paula that they watched some television while I made dinner, which is what they often did at this time. They agreed but without much enthusiasm. I switched on the television, passed the remote to Adrian and left them to choose the channel, while I went into the kitchen and began preparing dinner. As I worked I could hear the sound of the television coming from the sitting room but without Harrison’s usual chatter which had made Adrian and Paula tell him to ‘sshh’ so that they could hear. It had been part of normal family life. Now all I could hear was the television and it sounded hollow.

Toscha wandered into the kitchen, miaowed, wandered out again and then reappeared as if looking for someone. I stroked her and she purred.

When dinner was ready we sat at the table, and the gap that had been left by the removal of Harrison’s high chair was cripplingly obvious. No one said anything and we ate in silence, but ignoring Harrison’s absence was like ignoring an elephant in the room.

Eventually I said: ‘I know we’re all missing Harrison, but we have to remember he has gone to live with his mother, which is great.’ My words sounded flat, even to me.

Adrian and Paula nodded but said nothing.

‘And you’ll be able to see him in a week,’ I added.

‘Not sure I want to,’ Adrian finally said.

‘Nor me,’ Paula agreed. ‘It’ll be too upsetting.’

‘You might feel differently nearer the time,’ I said, and then returned to the partially eaten food on my plate.

After dinner I took the card and leaving present I’d previously bought for Harrison from the bag and called to Adrian and Paula to help wrap the present and sign the card. They said they thought Harrison would like the present – a silver moneybox in the shape of a cat – and together they wrapped it; then we signed the leaving card. Clearly Harrison couldn’t read yet and whether or not Rihanna kept the card to show him when he was older would be up to her. I hoped she would. Harrison was young enough to forget the time he’d spent with us, and if Rihanna decided to get rid of the Life Story book with its photographs of us he might never know his early history. But that would be her decision.

The rest of the evening continued with the three of us feeling Harrison’s absence deeply but saying very little. Then Adrian and Paula started bickering – a displacement for their sadness – which resulted in Paula bursting easily into tears and claiming no one loved her. I spent half an hour comforting her, by the end of which Adrian was feeling neglected: ‘She only cries to get attention,’ he said. I comforted him too, but was pleased when I could start their bath and bedtime routine; I told myself that once we’d got through tomorrow we could all start to move on.

The following morning the children were still subdued at breakfast and didn’t mention Harrison at all. I didn’t raise the subject, as they’d said their goodbyes the day before; it was just left for me to say goodbye when Rihanna came at ten o’clock to collect Harrison’s belongings. I saw Adrian and Paula into school and then returned home, where I brought all Harrison’s bags down from the bedroom and stacked them in the hall. It was now 9.30 and I made a quick coffee and then gathered together the other items I needed to give to Rihanna: Harrison’s red book; his Life Story book (which I’d updated the evening before); his leaving present and card; and a cheque made payable to Harrison (for his savings account), which was the allowance I’d received for his clothes and hadn’t spent.

At exactly ten o’clock the doorbell rang. I steeled myself and went down the hall and opened the door. The first thing I saw was a huge bouquet of flowers tied with a large gold ribbon. Then Harrison, in his mother’s arms, peered round from behind the flowers.

‘Boo!’ he said, and I laughed.

‘For you,’ Rihanna said, laying the bouquet in my arms and kissing my cheek. ‘Thank you for everything.’

Already feeling pretty emotional I felt my eyes fill with tears. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘They’re beautiful, but you shouldn’t have.’ I stood aside to let Rihanna and Harrison in.

‘Cathy, you don’t know how grateful I am. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here now.’

‘Oh?’ I said.

‘When I came to see you that night at the beginning of December you suggested I saw Harrison. That was the turning point for me. It was then I realized how much I loved Harrison and always would. I knew then I couldn’t live without him and had to do everything in my power to get him back.’

I smiled, pleased. ‘You did it, not me.’

Harrison was now looking at me curiously, probably wondering what he was doing here and if he would be staying.

‘How did he sleep last night?’ I asked. We were still in the hall, surrounded by the bags I’d previously packed.

‘Very well,’ Rihanna said. ‘He woke once but soon settled.’ Her gaze shifted to the cases and she suddenly burst into tears. As she delved into her jacket pocket for a tissue I put down the flowers so that I could take Harrison. ‘Sorry,’ she said, passing Harrison to me and wiping her eyes. ‘Seeing that case’ – she nodded to the trolley case – ‘brought back all the memories. I can remember how wretched I felt as I packed his clothes. I guess even then I knew I shouldn’t be giving him up but I couldn’t see any other way.’

I touched her arm reassuringly as she wiped her eyes and tucked the tissue into her pocket. ‘Would you like to stay for a while and I’ll make us a coffee?’ I asked.

‘Would you mind if we didn’t?’ she said. ‘I’d rather we left now. Then when you visit next week I’ll feel stronger. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘No, of course not,’ I said. ‘Come on, I’ll help you into the car with the bags.’

Still holding Harrison I picked up a bag with my free hand and led the way out of the door. Rihanna followed with the trolley case and another bag. I opened the boot and we loaded her car. We returned to the house and Rihanna made another trip to the car with the other two bags while I waited inside with Harrison. All that was left now was the carrier bag I’d put to one side. As Rihanna returned to the hall I passed her the bag. ‘In there is Harrison’s red book,’ I said. ‘A present and card from us, which the two of you can open at home. His Life Story book, which I think Cheryl has mentioned to you. And a cheque to make up for the clothes I didn’t have to buy Harrison.’

‘No, I’m not taking that,’ Rihanna said, delving into the bag to retrieve the cheque. ‘I was grateful you did as I asked and dressed him in the clothes. It helped me, it really did.’

‘Please keep it,’ I said, gently pushing the cheque back towards her. ‘It’s payable to Harrison, so put it in his savings account. I’d like it if you did.’

Rihanna hesitated. ‘Well, if you’re sure.’

‘I am.’

‘Thank you.’ I saw her eyes fill again and Harrison was looking at his mother, most concerned.

I kissed him and placed him in her arms. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you to the car.’

Leaving the door on the latch I followed Rihanna and Harrison down the path and then waited on the pavement while she put the bag I’d just given to her on to the passenger seat, and then opened the rear door and sat Harrison in his new car seat. Leaning in she fastened the belts and then tested they were secure. Satisfied, she stood back so that I could say goodbye.

I leant in. ‘Goodbye, love,’ I said. I gently eased my arms around his shoulders and drew him close one last time. I felt his little arms encircle my neck and the soft touch of his skin. His lips pressed lightly against my cheek as he gave me a little kiss. ‘Goodbye, love,’ I said again.

‘Bye,’ he said.

I felt my bottom lip tremble as I stood back and Rihanna closed the car door.

‘Bye, Cathy,’ she said, giving me a hug. ‘Thanks again for everything.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I managed to say.

I watched as she climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Harrison was looking at me through the side window, his little face so innocent, trusting and loving. I felt a tear escape and run down my cheek. The car began to pull away. I waved and Harrison gave a little wave back. I stayed on the pavement and watched until the car was out of sight; then returning up the front path I went inside and closed the door. That’s the trouble with babies, I thought: you can’t help but love them.

Epilogue

J
ill phoned later that Friday morning to ask if the move had gone well and I said it had. She knew that, as when previous foster children had left us, I would be taking a couple of weeks off from fostering so that I could spend time with Adrian and Paula, which would allow the three of us space to come to terms with losing Harrison. When a foster child, who has been part of the family for a long time, leaves it is like a small bereavement from which it takes time to recover. This is true not only for the immediate family but also for grandparents, extended family and close friends, all of whom have welcomed the child as family and then have to adjust to losing them.