Free The Night the Angels Came by Cathy Glass

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?’

Chapter Nine
A Prayer Answered
     
     
    I continued into the sitting room, where Adrian was reading a magazine. I pushed the door to so that Michael could speak to his father in private. There was no need for me to observe or monitor his father’s phone call, as I was sometimes asked to do by the social services with some of the children I fostered. Michael wasn’t an abused child who needed protecting from abusing parents – far from it: he couldn’t have been more loved and cared for, which made it all the more sad.
    Michael was only on the phone for about five minutes before he joined Adrian and me in the sitting room. I could tell as soon as he walked in he was sad and anxious again. Gone was the little boy eagerly looking forward to swimming on Saturday and in his place stood the child carer weighed down with worrying and the responsibility of his father’s illness.
    ‘Dad’s very tired,’ he said, standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. ‘He couldn’t talk for long.’
    I stood and went over and rested my hand lightly on his shoulder. ‘I know, love. He isn’t feeling so good right now, but once the blood transfusion takes effect he’ll feel much better.’
    Michael gave a small nod but didn’t say anything. It was just after eight o’clock and I thought the best thing for Michael now was for him to try to get some sleep; as well as looking sad he was looking very tired. I told the boys I wanted them to start getting ready for bed. Adrian closed his magazine and I went with them upstairs. While Adrian showered I went with Michael to his bedroom with the intention of unpacking his bag, but as soon as I began taking out his clothes to hang in the wardrobe Michael grew more anxious.
    ‘Can’t my things stay in my bag?’ he asked, worried. ‘I’m only here for the weekend.’ Perhaps he saw finality in unpacking, as though it might prolong his visit, and possibly his father’s stay in hospital.
    ‘Yes, if you prefer,’ I said. ‘Shall we just take out what you need for tonight and tomorrow?’ He nodded. I took out his pyjamas, wash bag and a change of school uniform for the following day. As I straightened, Michael quickly zipped the bag shut, leaving his other things inside.
    Adrian finished showering and I went with Michael to the bathroom, showed him how to work the control on the shower and made sure he had everything he needed. I came out, leaving him to wash and change into his pyjamas. I checked on Paula, who was fast asleep on her side, her little mouth slightly open, and breathing gently; then I went through to Adrian’s room. He was propped up in bed reading, as he did most nights. I kissed him goodnight and reminded him to switch off his light by 9.00. I then went in