Can I Let You Go?: Part 2 of 3: A heartbreaking true story of love, loss and moving on. Cathy Glass. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Cathy Glass
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Биографии и Мемуары
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780008156633
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phone, but it didn’t hold the same appeal to her as it did for many young people who like to be in regular contact with their peers through social media. However, she did have Snuggles on her lap. Faye was looking forward to meeting my mother, and I’d telephoned Mum the evening before to check it was still all right for us all to descend on her, and if she wanted us to bring anything.

      ‘Just bring yourselves,’ she’d said, as she often did. Although of course we were taking her flowers and chocolates.

      ‘Do you have a grandpa?’ Faye asked as I drove. I’d told her that my father had died, but she must have forgotten. Thankfully Lucy and Paula hadn’t heard, as they had earphones in, but Adrian looked at me a little disconcerted.

      ‘No, love,’ I said to Faye. ‘Grandpa died recently.’ I glanced at her in the rear-view mirror.

      ‘That’s sad,’ she said, her face dropping. ‘I hope my grandpa and gran don’t die.’

      ‘I’m afraid we all have to die some time,’ I said. ‘But I’m sure it won’t be for a long time yet.’ I hoped Faye didn’t talk like that at Mum’s, as it could be upsetting for everyone. But as with Lucy’s adoption, I couldn’t give Faye a list of taboo subjects that she wasn’t to talk about. Much of the time she saw life through the eyes of a child and had their same lack of inhibitions. She said things as they were, and if her innocent remarks touched a nerve with us then it fell upon us to make allowances and accommodate them. It wasn’t Faye’s fault she could be tactless sometimes; it was part of her learning disability.

      I sensed the atmosphere in the car shift as I drew onto the drive at Mum’s house and cut the engine. It was still difficult arriving, aware that just Mum would be answering the door. Lucy and Paula took out their earphones and there was a sharp silence for a second when no one moved or spoke, before Faye said brightly, ‘Is this where your gran lives?’

      ‘Yes,’ I said.

      ‘Doesn’t she live in a flat?’

      ‘No, in this house.’

      ‘It’s a nice house,’ she said. Then she told Snuggles the house was nice and that Paula, Lucy and Adrian’s gran lived here, which lightened the atmosphere.

      Mum appeared at the front door – I guessed she’d been looking out for us – and we smiled and called hi as we got out of the car. As soon as Faye was out she ran to Mum. I looked over anxiously, concerned as to what she was going to do, but she just wanted to hug her, greeting her as she did her own grandparents. Mum looked a bit surprised. ‘Well, that’s a lovely hello,’ she said, returning the hug. ‘You must be Faye.’

      Faye beamed and stepped back. ‘Yes, I am Faye, and this is Snuggles.’

      I’d already told Mum about Snuggles.

      Faye went indoors as Mum hugged and kissed each of us in turn. As I gave Mum the flowers and chocolates I remembered how Dad used to joke to Mum, ‘The flowers are all yours and the chocolates are all mine.’ I smiled at the recollection.

      Indoors, I went with Mum into the kitchen to help her make hot drinks and put the flowers in water, while Lucy, Adrian and Paula showed Faye into the living room. The house was as it had always been. Mum hadn’t made any changes, other than removing Dad’s personal possessions from downstairs. His spare glasses, crossword book (he always had a crossword on the go), coat and umbrella were no longer in their usual places.

      We arranged a plate of biscuits and the drinks on a tray and I carried it into the living room, where I handed out the drinks while Mum offered the biscuits. Adrian was sitting in what had been Dad’s armchair and I was pleased; it seemed to be another little step towards coming to terms with Dad’s passing and making it a little easier for us all. We settled with our drinks and biscuits and Mum talked to Paula about college, to Adrian and Lucy about their jobs and to Faye about horses. I’d mentioned to Mum that Faye liked horses and Mum always made sure she included any child we were fostering in the conversations (as Dad had also done). ‘Cathy tells me you like to go horse riding,’ she said to Faye.

      ‘Yes,’ Faye said. ‘But I can’t go now, so Cathy takes me to see horses in a field.’

      ‘That’s nice,’ Mum said. ‘I think we might have been there.’

      ‘Yes, we have,’ I agreed.

      ‘I feed the horses grass,’ Faye said. ‘And I’ve given them all names.’ She told us some of the names she could remember.

      Once Adrian had finished his drink he said he’d go out and cut the grass. Mum began to protest, saying he hadn’t come here to work, but I said that Adrian liked to help and preferred to be doing something rather than sitting and chatting. Dad had been the same. Presently we saw Adrian through the patio windows, pushing the electric lawnmower up and down the grass. Lucy and Paula then went with Mum into the kitchen to help her prepare lunch. They often did. They loved spending time with their gran without me there and I respected that. I think grandchildren can have a special relationship with their grandparents, sharing and confiding in a way they wouldn’t necessarily do with their parents. The difference in age seems to close the generational gap, rather than widening it, and of course grandparents are generally relieved of any disciplining role, so they can more easily be the young person’s friend and confidant.

      I stayed with Faye in the living room while Lucy, Paula and Adrian were occupied, and I asked her if she’d like some books to look at, but she asked if Gran had any games like I had. I pulled over the upholstered footstool that doubled as a toy box and lifted the lid. Faye knelt beside me and began searching through it. She took out the box of dominoes, which she said she sometimes played at the day centre. She and I played a couple of games and then we helped lay the table for lunch, although it was more like dinner with a main course of chops and roasted vegetables, followed by blackberry and apple pie and custard. The pudding had been one of Dad’s favourites as well as ours. ‘It’s nice to have the opportunity to make it again,’ Mum said. ‘It’s not worth making for one – I’d be eating it all week.’

      After we’d finished lunch and had helped clear away, Adrian found some more jobs to do, including fixing the bolt on the side gate, which had broken when the gate had slammed in the wind, and oiling its hinges. The girls and I helped Mum wash up and put away the dishes, so it was soon done. Faye said she often did the dishes at home, as her gran and grandpa couldn’t stand at the sink for long. We then sat in the living room and chatted for a while, and then at Faye’s request we played some card games she knew from the day centre. Despite my initial reservations that Faye might say something to upset Mum, the day had gone well. Faye was relaxed around Mum, and while she often mentioned her own grandparents and that she liked to help them, as their legs were bad, she didn’t make any untoward remarks about my father that could have been upsetting. Neither did she mention being pregnant or the baby. In the car going home I found out why. ‘I made sure I talked about things that wouldn’t upset your gran,’ she said. ‘Like I have to with my gran and grandpa. I don’t like seeing them upset, so we had a nice day and were all happy.’

      I smiled. ‘Yes, indeed.’

       Change of Heart

      On Monday I took Faye on the bus again to visit her grandparents, and then on Tuesday we went to see the horses in the field. Faye was delighted when she called their names and they cantered over, although I think they would have come anyway with the promise of handfuls of fresh grass and being stroked. I’d found an old hairbrush at home and had given it to Faye so that she could brush their manes. A few of the horses stood still to let her brush, but the others shied away, probably not used to having their hair done, for I doubted many visitors arrived with a hairbrush! ‘We could bring some mascara next time,’ I joked.

      ‘Yes, like Lucy,’ Faye said. ‘She wears mascara. I’ve seen her putting it on.’

      ‘Would you like some?’ I asked, wondering if this was a