Mummy's Little Helper (21 page)

This almost beggared belief. Why couldn’t she have done that all
before
my supervision meeting? ‘Really?’ I said sarcastically.

‘Yes, really. Though this isn’t out of the blue. I think she partly feels terrible because, in the light of her allegations, we’d told her we’d look for a different temporary carer. Which was what, at the time, she said she wanted, but she now seems to have had a change of heart. I think she’s also worried that you’ll refuse to keep Abby anyway, and given that she’ll be going into permanent foster care at some point, a further chop and change wouldn’t be good for Abby.’

I tried to rein in my anger. Sarah wouldn’t have been privy to dates and details, would she? Probably didn’t even know I’d
had
the meeting. ‘So Sarah knows she isn’t going home?’

‘Oh, yes, now she’s been appointed her own social worker, she does.’

‘So now she wants to make things right with me, just so that Abby stays put temporarily? God, did she really think I’d refuse to keep Abby, just to get her back? She has a very low opinion of me, I must say!’

‘No, no, Casey,’ Bridget was quick to correct me. ‘I’m sure she is
genuinely
sorry. I’m just saying that it probably took this to make her see that she was hurting you needlessly, I suppose. Anyway, the main thing is that she’s desperate to apologise, and wants to know if there’s any way you can bring Abby up tomorrow, so she can do that.’

‘Of course I will,’ I said. ‘It would be pretty mean of me not to, wouldn’t it?’

‘Well, thanks for being so gracious,’ Bridget said. ‘I’m sure it’s appreciated. I don’t know if I’d feel so charitable under the circumstances.’

And I was pleased that she said that, because, well, it made me feel better. Though, in fact, how could I really do anything
but
that? I glanced at my reflection in the hall mirror as I disconnected, very aware that this wasn’t just about Abby. I was fit and healthy; I was happy; I had a big, loving family. And, crucially, I hadn’t just had the grim news sink in that my little girl – who I cherished – would never really be mine again. Just someone who came and visited me, while I languished in a nursing home. I couldn’t imagine how I would
ever
get over that.

I edged the door to Sarah’s room open, not knowing what to expect. In the intervening twenty-four hours or so I had imagined all sorts. I felt confident now that she was going to apologise and, even if she didn’t, I’d got over myself now anyway. I wouldn’t have wanted her life for all the coffee in Colombia, so to do anything but feel sorry for her would be wrong.

But I still felt there was more she had to say to me. You didn’t react so violently when being faced with a name from the past unless you had a pretty good reason. So what was it about this sister that made her so anxious to keep her at arm’s length? I had been fostering long enough to imagine the scenario – to imagine several possible scenarios in fact. Had she abused Abby in some way when she was younger? Had she indeed got a criminal past? Been an alcoholic, or a drug user? Or did she have some other skeleton in her closet? Was there some connection between Abby’s OCD compulsions and this woman? Some dark family history Sarah couldn’t bear to reveal? I was anxious about seeing her again, but mostly I was all ears; there would be
something
, I felt sure. And though it might not change the situation, or help in Abby’s future, I had a hunch it would be something she needed to get off her chest.

I’d obviously been right. Sarah just had that look about her, somehow. Physically, she looked a little better than she had when I’d last seen her, thankfully, though her skin was still a mess, the blisters far from healing. Bridget had explained to me that Sarah had had a rare adverse reaction to a dye that they’d injected into her in preparation for some kind of scan. So a double dose of bad luck, and my heart had gone out to her. She tried to push herself up in the bed when she saw us and I could still see the effort involved in moving.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Come on in, both of you.’ She beckoned to Abby, patting the bed. ‘Come on. Climb up, poppet, and give Mummy a big hug. You know what? My bones aren’t so sore today.’

Abby duly leapt up on the bed, and I saw Sarah grimace under her daughter’s bear hug, and realised she must have understood all too well how hard it must have been for Abby, seeing her the way she had the other day.

I watched, feeling a bit awkward and wondering what was expected of me. I knew that Abby wasn’t aware of all the things that had been happening, so Sarah obviously couldn’t say anything just yet. So I would just have to stand and wait, feeling distinctly out of place.

‘Should I go and get some snacks?’ I ventured, finally. ‘I could get us all some chocolate or drinks or something, couldn’t I?’

‘Actually,’ Sarah announced, and I could see she had something planned, ‘I was thinking my clever little girl here could go and do that today. Now you’re ten I’ll bet you can reach all the buttons on the machines, can’t you? And you’re already so good with money – would you like to do that, poppet? Show Casey here just how good you are?’

Abby jumped down immediately, as if already pre-programmed, and reached into the bedside cabinet for her mother’s purse. She smiled at me while she did so. ‘You just rest your legs, Casey. And I’ll bring some surprises back. Mummy loves me to surprise her, don’t you?’

By this time Sarah had pressed her call button, and a nurse stood in the doorway. ‘Is Chelsea out there?’ she asked her.

The nurse nodded. ‘Coming now.’

At which point I heard a familiar cheerful voice, and a new face appeared. ‘Hey, Abby,’ Chelsea said. ‘How are you today?’

‘She’s off to the vending machines,’ Sarah told her.

‘Is that right?’ Chelsea said. ‘Me as well, as it happens. Maybe you could show me where they are. I keep forgetting how to get to them from here.’

She didn’t need to glance at me. I got it. So that was Abby taken care of. And with her gone, Sarah’s smile had gone too. It had been replaced by a look of urgent desperation.

‘Casey, where do I start?’ she began. ‘I am so, so sorry for what I’ve put you through. I don’t know what I was thinking, I truly don’t.’ She reached out a bony hand to grab mine. Closer now, I could see she’d lost a great deal of weight. ‘And before you tell me it’s okay, it isn’t. I’m honestly not like that at all, Casey. I want you to know that.’

I sat down in the visitor’s chair. Her hand still gripped mine, and surprisingly tightly for someone so frail. ‘But it
is
okay,’ I told her. ‘Apology accepted.’

‘I don’t deserve it,’ she said. ‘But I have to tell you the truth now. It’s hit me, Casey – hard. I’ve been a complete idiot. I know that now. But perhaps when you’ve heard me out you’ll understand a little and forgive me.’

She was becoming distressed. I remembered this was a woman who’d just been told her only child was going into care permanently, in all probability. And it was humbling. I think I’d have been distressed too. ‘Sarah, look,’ I said again, putting my other hand over hers. ‘I’m
fine
with it now,
honestly
. I know you were just doing what you thought best for Abby – same as I was – and, as it turns out, perhaps we both acted in haste. You’ve nothing to apologise for.’ I meant it as well. This poor woman – who clearly adored her daughter – of course she did – was her mother! Of course she was protective of her. And who knew if I’d have acted any differently? But there was clearly more to it than that, and she needed to get on and tell me. Abby and Chelsea would presumably be back before too long. ‘So, what do you want to tell me?’ I prompted.

She took a breath. ‘I’ve been an idiot. It just took all this to make me see it. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid – or so selfish.’ Her eyes began to swim with tears again, and I pulled a tissue from the box and gave it to her. She dabbed at the tears angrily. ‘But, you know, that was never my intention. I just thought that if I kept everything between us, it would be okay. That they wouldn’t take her away from me. That was my only motivation. Can you understand that? I just didn’t want anyone taking her away.’

I nodded. ‘And your sister?’

‘Isn’t a bad person. She really isn’t.’ She seemed anxious that I know that. ‘Whatever you might think …
God!
’ She laughed a hollow laugh. ‘Isn’t hindsight a wonderful thing?’

I agreed that it was. ‘And?’ I prompted gently.

‘And I need to make things right, because I’m going to lose Abby now anyway. They’ve pretty much told me so, and I believe them. Look at the state of me – God, this is such an
evil
disease. Which is why I need to get hold of Vicky. I can’t do it myself. I need someone to explain for me …’

‘Sarah,’ I nudged again. ‘What
happened
?’

So Sarah told me. It seemed she’d been living a lie for almost all of Abby’s life. And it also seemed that everything Mrs Shelley had said had been true. Vicky, the older sister, was last known to be living about 200 miles away, in London, but there was no guarantee, because Sarah hadn’t spoken to her for eight years. That would have made Abby just a toddler, which would explain why she had no memories of her auntie, who, as Mrs Shelley had said, used to be a big part of their lives.

Sarah had got married young, to a man who was apparently a bit of a womaniser; and, taking on something of a maternal role since the death of their own mother, when Sarah was still in her teens, Vicky, six years older had been set against it. Even so, Sarah – blinded by love (and, perhaps, the need to create a new family) – had gone ahead anyway, and married him.

Though she’d always made her feelings clear, Vicky had come to the wedding, and over a period of years had supported her little sister, particularly when the marriage had started going downhill. She’d said nothing as Sarah’s husband started messing her around, and also resisted the urge to say ‘I told you so’ when he was found to have been having an affair. Sarah had forgiven him – ‘I
always
forgave him, Casey’ – and the two of them had tried to patch things up again. She was a useless wife, she’d told Vicky, and deserved what she’d got. She was tired all the time and never much interested in sex, so really, she told her sister, what else could she expect? Little did she realise – and neither did her husband
or
her sister – that the MS was already doing its terrible work.

Sarah did, in the end, part with her husband. She gave him another chance – she really wanted to make a go of her marriage – and he’d promised her that he wanted to try again as well. But when Sarah found out, a few months later, that he’d seen the girl again, she realised she was clutching at straws. Still at no point did she consider seeing a doctor about her symptoms. Didn’t, that is, till they suddenly seemed to worsen; her fatigue grew more intense, she felt sick and ill, and then, one day, while at work, she fainted.

But she’d be led off the scent by something she hadn’t anticipated. The doctor told her she was pregnant.

‘I just didn’t know what to do then,’ Sarah told me, screwing the tissue into a ball in her hands. ‘We were finished. He’d moved in with that wretched woman now, so did I tell him or not? My first thought was yes – I thought it might be my key to getting him back. But the more I thought about it the more I realised it was a fool’s errand to do that. If he didn’t want me, he sure as hell wasn’t going to want me once he found out I was pregnant, was he?’

‘He didn’t want children?’

‘Oh, we’d discussed it. But you know how things work. He’d said yes, but not yet. It was always yes, but not yet. And I’m not stupid. Even if he’d been desperate for children,
we
were over. So he clearly didn’t want them with me. And I’m not naïve, either. It wasn’t the MS that killed our marriage. I used to tell myself it was, but only to try and make myself feel better. But I knew the truth. It died a death all by itself.’

‘So you never told him.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘He had no idea. And that’s how I aim to keep it. He could be anywhere, in any case – the further away the better, as far as I’m concerned. Oh, I went through all the usual scenarios – you have lots of time to think, stuck in a place like this, believe me – but what would be the point? Yes, he might embrace Abby with open arms – it’s been known – but I suspect not. And that “not” isn’t worth the risk.’

‘So what happened with Vicky then? You told her about it, obviously.’

She nodded now. ‘Oh, yes, of
course
. Because, of course, once I’d made my mind up, I didn’t
want
to have a baby. I was struggling enough by then, and it seemed crazy to even think about having a baby. Oh, no – I was clear.’ I could see her eyes glazing with tears again. ‘I wanted an abortion. And that, I suppose, was where it all started.’

She took a sip from the glass of water on the bedside table before continuing. It was still bare, bar a picture that Abby had done for her, and carefully sellotaped to the door on the front. ‘So by now,’ Sarah said, ‘Vicky’s marriage was over as well.’ She smiled a wan smile. ‘Two out of two,’ she said. ‘Not terribly impressive, was it?’ But in Vicky’s case the reasons were very different. She and her husband had undergone three gruelling and unsuccessful rounds of IVF, and by the time Sarah had come to her, increasingly sick, and now pregnant, Vicky was in the middle of divorcing him, the relationship having buckled under the accompanying strain.

Naturally, Vicky was aghast at the prospect of her sister having an abortion. How could Sarah wantonly throw a life away when she had tried so much to create one? It didn’t matter that this wasn’t her baby, or that Sarah was single and unsupported. It would be her niece, and she could support both of them – she’d absolutely guaranteed that. So, if reluctantly at first, Sarah conceded to her older sister’s wishes. Though she had many reservations (not least her increasingly fragile health – which she by now had attributed to her pregnancy) she at least felt secure in knowing that she’d have her sister there for her.

And, of course, Vicky was. In fact, even before the birth it felt like she had completely taken over, accompanying Sarah to her scans and all her antenatal appointments, and once the baby was born – and Vicky was, of course, present at that too – what had previously felt like support was beginning to feel like a takeover. The sisters lived close to one another by this time, so it made sense for Sarah to let Vicky stay over, so she frequently would; selflessly stepping in all the time, so that Sarah could get enough rest. ‘Which I badly needed, believe me. I had no idea what was wrong with me. I just couldn’t get out of bed some days. But I just assumed my bone-weariness and lassitude were a normal part of being a new mother.’

What Sarah did know was that she was now in an appalling situation. She hated relying on her sister, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that she had no choice. Eventually, when Abby was a few months old, and Sarah very weak, it was decided that they should think about renting a house and moving in together, and also, at long last, that Sarah actively seek help. She’d developed a frightening new symptom – she was having episodes of blurred vision – and it was this that set in motion a chain of investigations and the damning news that she was suffering from MS.

‘It changed
everything
,’ Sarah said. ‘Everything. Suddenly all the symptoms fell into place. I could almost look back and pinpoint every little thing about it – the times I could barely walk across a room, let alone flick a duster. The times the idea of sex was abhorrent, the business of just being so, so, so
tired
…’ She smiled ruefully at me. ‘Having a reason for it all was almost a relief in a way. There was a
why
– it wasn’t just me being pathetic. And though the doctors made it clear that, to date, there was no cure, there was certainly treatment – and now I could get some.

‘But for Vicky, of course, it changed everything as well. By now – and, God, Casey, I can’t blame her now – I
mustn’t
– she was faced with a radically different situation. She was seeing an older, divorced guy by then – might still be, for all I know. Might even have married him – and by now she was also caring pretty much full time for both of us, and I suppose she felt – God, I don’t know. How can I know what she felt? I didn’t ask her – that she was more of a mum to Abby now than
I
was. And I can see why she felt that – she was so desperate to be a mother, and by now it was to her that Abs would run if she needed something. Trust me, that was hard to watch. So it must have seemed obvious to her: now she
was
like a mum, wasn’t she? Well, that’s the way it seems to me, anyway. And I’d let her do it. I’d just let her take over. Having relied on her so utterly, I could hardly argue with her, could I?’