Cathy Glass
SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
The Night the
Angels Came
The heartbreaking true
story of a young boy's loss
Copyright
Certain details, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.
HarperElement
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published by HarperElement 2011
Copyright © Cathy Glass 2011
Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007442621
Ebook Edition © JULY 2011 ISBN: 9780007445691 Version 2016-08-15
Contents
Copyright
Preface
Chapter One - It’s a Cruel World
Chapter Two - Proud of My Children
Chapter Three - Are You Going to Die Soon?
Chapter Four - So Brave Yet So Ill
Chapter Five - Treasure
Chapter Six - Lonely and Afraid
Chapter Seven - Comfortable
Chapter Eight - Michael’s Daddy
Chapter Nine - A Prayer Answered
Chapter Ten - A Child Again
Chapter Eleven - Friends and Neighbours
Chapter Twelve - Good and Bad News
Chapter Thirteen - An Evening Out
Chapter Fourteen - ‘May Joy and Peace Surround You’
Chapter Fifteen - Boyfriend
Chapter Sixteen - An Empty House
Chapter Seventeen - Attached
Chapter Eighteen - News and No News
Chapter Nineteen - The Power of Prayer
Chapter Twenty - Hospital
Chapter Twenty-One - Support
Chapter Twenty-Two - Improving
Chapter Twenty-Three - Worry Mode
Chapter Twenty-Four - The Night Sky
Chapter Twenty-Five - Staying Positive
Chapter Twenty-Six - A Few Days’ Rest
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Premonition
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Time with Dad
Chapter Twenty-Nine - The Stars Glow Brightly
Chapter Thirty - The Meeting
Chapter Thirty-One - The Right Decision
Chapter Thirty-Two - Heaven
Chapter Thirty-Three - Leaving Michael
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Children usually come into foster care as a result of abuse or severe neglect. Very occasionally, and sadly, it is as a result of one or both parents being very ill or even dying. This is the true story of Michael, whose courage, faith and strength in the face of so much sorrow will stay in the hearts of my family and me for ever.
Chapter One It’s a Cruel World
‘Cathy,’ Jill said quietly, ‘I need to ask you something, and you must feel you can say no.’ ‘Sure, go ahead, Jill. I’m good at saying no,’ I returned light-heartedly.
Jill gave a small laugh but I now realized she sounded subdued – not her usual cheerful self. Jill is my support social worker from Homefinders, the agency I foster for, and we get on very well.
‘Cathy,’ she continued, ‘we need a foster home for a little boy called Michael. He’s just eight. He has been looked after by his father for the last six years since his mother died when Michael was just two.’ Jill paused, as though steeling herself for something she had to tell me, and I assumed it would be that the child had been badly neglected or abused, or that the father had a new partner and no longer wanted the child. I’d answered the telephone in the sitting room and I now sat on the sofa, ready to hear the details of the little boy’s suffering, which would still shock me even after hearing many similar stories in the nine years I’d been fostering. However, what Jill told me shocked me in an entirely different way.
‘Cathy,’ Jill said sombrely, ‘Michael’s father, Patrick, is dying. He has contacted the social services and asked if a carer can be found to look after Michael when he’s no longer able to.’ ‘
Jill paused and waited for my reaction. I didn’t know what to say. ‘Oh, I see,’ I said lamely, as images and thoughts flashed through my mind and I grappled with the implications of what Jill was telling me.
‘Patrick loves his son deeply,’ Jill continued, ‘and he has brought him up very well. Patrick has been battling against cancer for two years but the chemo has been stopped now and he’s on palliative care only. He’s very thin and weak, and realizes it won’t be long before he has to go into a hospital or hospice. He has asked if Michael can get to know his carer before he goes to live with them when Patrick has to go into hospital.’
‘I see,’ I said again, quietly. ‘How