The Night the Angels Came (5 page)

I
wanted to rush over and take Michael in my arms and comfort him, but I felt inhibited by the presence of the priest and the formality of the head teacher’s office. Instead I said, ‘Are you all right, love?’ I crossed the room to where Michael sat, so alone.

He gave a small nod and I touched his shoulder reassuringly.

‘You’re going home with Cathy,’ the priest said, remaining by the door.

‘How’s my dad?’ Michael asked me.

‘He’s being well looked after in hospital,’ I said. ‘I’m expecting to hear more soon, love. Try not to worry.’

‘Can I go and see him now?’ Michael asked. I wasn’t sure. Jill had told me to collect Michael from school and take him home. I didn’t know if it was appropriate to take Michael to the hospital now.

‘Not straight from school,’ I said, ‘but I’ll find out when you can visit.’ Michael nodded.

‘Don’t forget your bag,’ the priest said.

Michael picked up his school bag, which was propped beside the chair, and slowly stood.

‘Will you be bringing Michael to school tomorrow?’ the priest asked. ‘I think it’s better for him to be in school than moping around.’

‘I’ll have to wait until I hear from Michael’s social worker,’ I said, ‘but I think she’ll probably say Michael should come to school if he feels up to it. What time does school start?’

‘The doors open at eight a.m. and registration is at eight fifteen sharp.’ Which meant I would have time to bring Michael to school before taking Adrian to his school for its 8.50 a.m. start, and then continue as usual to Paula’s nursery for 9.00.

Michael heaved his school bag on to one shoulder and the four of us crossed the room to where the priest waited by the door. We went out of the head’s office and then followed the priest down the corridor to the main entrance. He opened the inner and outer doors. ‘Take care, Michael,’ he said as we passed through the dark lobby and into the light and air. ‘I’ll visit your dad when I get a chance. He is in our prayers.’

‘Thank you, Father,’ Michael said respectfully. Adrian and Paula glanced at me and I knew I would have to explain later that priests in the Catholic Church were referred to as ‘father’.

‘When will I be able to see my dad?’ Michael asked as we crossed the playground.

‘I’m not sure yet. I’m waiting to hear from your social worker and I’ll tell you as soon as I do.’ I was hoping Jill or Stella would phone before too long so that I could reassure Michael, and I also needed to know what arrangements would be made to collect the clothes Michael needed for the weekend.

‘If you can’t take me I could go to the hospital on the bus,’ Michael offered.

I gave a small smile. ‘There’s no need for that, love. I’ll take you just as soon as I hear from Stella about visiting times.’ Of course I also needed confirmation that it was advisable for Michael to visit tonight – that Patrick was well enough – although I wasn’t going to alarm Michael by saying so.

‘You don’t have to keep to visiting times when someone is terminally ill,’ Michael said, and I was saddened that an eight-year-old knew this.

‘What’s a terminal?’ Paula asked innocently.

‘Terminally ill is when someone is very ill,’ I said. I guessed Michael probably knew the full definition but he didn’t say.

‘Have you visited your dad before in hospital?’ Adrian asked.

Michael shook his head. ‘Dad had to go to the hospital for chemo but he always came home again afterwards. Sometimes he was sick and I held his hand and got him a glass of water.’

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.’

‘P
atrick’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.’

I’d phrased it as best I could, but predictably Michael said, ‘But I want to see him tonight, or tomorrow. You said we would.’

I hadn’t said we would but that wasn’t the issue. ‘I have to do what your father thinks is best for you,’ I said gently. ‘I can’t go against his wishes. He thinks it’s best if he phones you instead of you visiting, as it’s just for the weekend. He’s given Stella a list of what you’ll need for tomorrow and the weekend and she’s bringing your things here later. She’ll be able to tell us more when we see her and so will your father when he phones. Is that all right, love?’ Michael gave a small nod and seemed to accept what I was saying. ‘Could you tell Adrian and Paula dinner is ready, please?’

Giving another small nod Michael turned and went off to tell Adrian and Paula. A few moments later the three of them came into the kitchen/diner. As they entered I heard Michael telling Adrian and Paula that his dad was getting better and he would be phoning later. While Michael probably understood that his use of the phrase ‘getting better’ referred to a temporary remission in an otherwise poor prognosis, I wondered if Paula and Adrian might assume Patrick was now making a full recovery, for in their limited experience of illness people who were sick got better.

I was right. ‘Michael’s daddy is getting better,’ Paula announced as we sat at the table to eat. ‘He’s not going to die.’

‘Not yet,’ Michael put in quickly, which saved me from a very difficult and painful conversation.

I looked at him with a reassuring smile. He returned my smile, the tension having eased a little from his face. Even if Patrick’s remission was only temporary, like Michael I rejoiced in it, and there was always hope. ‘We’ll have a nice weekend,’ I said to him. ‘What would you like to do?’

Michael looked thoughtful for a second and then asked quietly, ‘Can we go swimming? I used to go swimming every Saturday with my dad but he hasn’t been well enough this year.’

‘Yes,’ I said, pleased that he was showing enthusiasm, and honoured that I was being allowed to take over an activity that had hitherto been one he did with his dad. ‘That sounds good to me.’ Adrian and Paula were nodding in agreement. ‘We’ll go on Saturday morning,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose Stella will be bringing your swimming shorts so I’ll buy another pair while you’re at school tomorrow. You’re the same size as Adrian.’

Michael smiled again, his blue eyes creasing at the corners exactly as Patrick’s did. ‘Thanks, Cathy. Is that what I call you? Or is it Mrs Glass?’

‘Cathy’s fine,’ I said as Adrian and Paula sniggered, but not unkindly.

I’m pleased to say that Michael ate well and once dinner was finished he played with Adrian and Paula while I cleared away. At 6.45 when the doorbell rang I guessed it was Stella. The children stopped playing and joined me in the hall as I opened the front door.

‘What a welcoming committee!’ Stella said, laughing. ‘How are you all?’

‘Good,’ the children chorused.

Stella hadn’t met Adrian and Paula before, so I introduced them as she carried a large canvas holdall into the hall.

‘That’s my bag,’ Michael said, a little surprised. It must have seemed strange to him seeing his bag arrive in my hall, although he knew Stella was bringing him a change of clothes.

‘Yes,’ Stella said. ‘Your dad told me where to find it and the things you need. I think I’ve remembered everything. Your neighbour, Mrs Harvey, let me into your house and she sends her love. Her husband, Jack, wasn’t there, but he sends his love too. He was visiting your dad.’

‘So why can’t I visit Dad?’ Michael asked.

Stella glanced at me. ‘I have explained,’ I said. We were still standing in the hall. ‘Shall we go through to the sitting room?’ I suggested.

‘Just for a few minutes,’ Stella said. ‘It’s getting late and I have to write a report for tomorrow when I get home.’

We went into the sitting room. Michael sat on the sofa between Adrian and Paula, and Stella squatted on the floor in front of them as she spoke. She explained, as I had, that Patrick had said there was no need for Michael to visit as he was only in hospital for the weekend. Also, as I had done, Stella omitted the other reason for Patrick not wanting Michael to visit: that seeing him looking so poorly and surrounded by other very sick people would be unnecessarily upsetting for Michael. Seated in a line on the sofa all three children nodded as Stella spoke and Stella ended up addressing them all.

‘Your dad is phoning later,’ Stella concluded, looking at Michael. ‘Visiting ends at seven thirty, so I guess once Jack has gone your dad will phone. There’s a portable payphone on the ward. I don’t think you’re allowed to use a mobile in hospital.’

The children nodded and Paula took Michael’s hand between hers and patted it, as I did hers when she was worried. ‘Your dad has a portable payphone,’ she reassured him. Then looking at Stella, asked, ‘What’s a portable payphone?’

‘It’s a phone that can be moved around the ward so that all the patients can use it,’ Stella explained.

‘That’s good, isn’t it, Michael?’ Paula said. ‘All the patients use it.’

Michael smiled indulgently and nodded. He was very good with Paula, especially I thought as he didn’t have any brothers or sisters of his own.

‘Well, I can see you’re being well looked after,’ Stella said, straightening as she got up from the floor. ‘Your dad is doing fine, so try not to worry. He’s assuming you’ll be going to school as usual tomorrow.’ Michael nodded. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else I’ll be going.’ Stella paused, allowing Michael the chance to think of anything he wanted to ask, but he didn’t. ‘All right, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll phone Cathy on Monday to confirm that your dad is out of hospital.’

Michael nodded and then said cheerfully, ‘We’re going swimming on Saturday, like I used to with my dad.’

‘Fantastic,’ Stella said. ‘You have a lovely weekend, and don’t worry about your dad: he’s being very well looked after.’

She said goodbye to the children and we left them sitting on the sofa as I saw Stella to the front door. We could hear Adrian and Michael telling each other of the daring diving stunts they were going to perform when we went swimming, while Paula, less sure of the water, sat quietly listening.

‘It’ll do Michael good to have a weekend away from all the responsibility,’ Stella confided as I saw her out. ‘I haven’t seen him look so excited about anything in a long while. Usually all his talk is of his dad’s medication – which tablets he has to take and when. This will give him a complete break and a chance to be a child again. Thanks for all you’re doing.’

‘There’s no need to thank me,’ I said, embarrassed. ‘Michael’s a lovely lad. I just wish I was looking after him in different circumstances.’

Stella nodded. ‘So do I, Cathy. So do I. It’s all so very sad.’

Having seen Stella out I returned to the sitting room and announced it was Paula’s bedtime. ‘School and nursery tomorrow,’ I reminded them, ‘so no one is going to be very late.’ Adrian and Michael pulled a face. ‘Boys,’ I continued, ‘once Paula is clear of the bathroom and is in bed, I would like you two to start getting ready. Adrian is usually in bed at eight on a school night,’ I added, addressing Michael.

‘So am I,’ Michael admitted, ‘but what if my dad phones when I’m in bed?’

‘I’ll get you up. Don’t worry, you will speak to your dad when he phones: of course you will. I’ll take your bag up now and put it in your room. Paula, say goodnight to Adrian and Michael.’

‘Good night,’ she said reluctantly, not wanting to leave them. She stood and offered her cheek for kissing – first to Adrian as she usually did, and then to Michael, who gave her a little peck.

‘Good girl,’ I said.

She came over and gave a little wave. ‘Night, night,’ she called as we left the sitting room.

‘Night,’ the boys chorused behind us. ‘Sleep tight. Sweet dreams,’ Michael added, which I guessed was probably what his father said to him at night.

Upstairs, I put Michael’s holdall in his room and then ran Paula’s bath, all the while listening out for the phone. It was 7.15 and Stella had said she thought Patrick would phone at the end of visiting time – about 7.30. I hoped he didn’t leave it too late as, in my experience, children can become very fretful, with worries and sadness escalating if they become over-tired. Problems and anxieties always seem more manageable in the morning after a good night’s sleep. Fortunately at 7.45, just as I was tucking Paula into bed, the phone rang.

‘Cathy! The phone!’ Michael shouted from downstairs. ‘Shall I answer it?’

I was already on the landing, going to my bedroom to answer the extension. ‘Just a moment,’ I called down to him. I wanted to make sure it was Patrick.

I picked up the extension and said hello. Even before he spoke I knew it was him, for I heard the small gasp as he caught his breath before he spoke.

‘Hi, Patrick. How are you?’ I bubbled. ‘Good to hear from you.’

‘And you, Cathy,’ he said, taking another breath. ‘Thank you for looking after Michael at such short notice.’

‘No problem.’

‘I think I’m going to have to postpone our dinner date on Saturday,’ he said with a small laugh. ‘Pity, because I’d bought a nice bottle of wine especially.’

‘The lengths some people will go to to avoid my cooking!’ I said. He laughed again but I could hear it was a lot of effort for him to talk and his breathing was more laboured than when I’d seen him before. ‘I’ll put Michael on,’ I said. ‘He’s waiting by the phone downstairs. Perhaps we could have a chat when you’ve finished talking to him?’

There was another pause in which Patrick took a long-drawn-in breath before he spoke. ‘Would it be all right if we had a chat tomorrow, Cathy?’ he said. ‘I’m not so good at present. I’m exhausted. The doctors have told me that once I’ve have this blood I’ll feel much better.’

‘Yes, of course. You look after yourself. I’ll put Michael on.’

‘Thank you. Did the social worker bring Michael’s clothes?’

‘Yes. Don’t worry. He’s fine. He’s got everything he needs. I’ll fetch him.’

‘Thank you.’

Replacing the receiver in my bedroom, I went on to the landing and called down to Michael, who was waiting patiently at the foot of the stairs. ‘Pick up the phone on the hall table.’ I said. ‘It’s your dad.’ I waited until he had done so and had said hello, before I returned to Paula to say goodnight.

‘Is that Michael’s daddy?’ she asked. ‘Yes, love.’

‘Is he using the portable payphone?’

I smiled. ‘Yes. Now I want you to go to sleep. It’s getting late and you have nursery tomorrow.’

She snuggled down and we hugged and kissed each other goodnight; then I came out and hovered for a moment on the landing. I could see Michael in the hall below. He was standing with his back to me and was very quiet as he listened to his father on the phone. I couldn’t hear what Patrick was saying, but I guessed he was trying to reassure his son, for as I went downstairs and past Michael he was saying: ‘So you promise you will be home on Monday?’