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not needy,’ I said defensively. ‘And although he has no immediate family he has lots of very supportive friends.’

      ‘Good,’ Jill said again, ‘but just be careful. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.’

      ‘All right, Jill. I hear what you’re saying. I’ll be careful.’

      Jill then gave me some feedback from Stella – Patrick and Michael’s social worker – who’d spoken to Patrick that morning. Stella had confirmed that the evening had gone well from Patrick and Michael’s point of view. Patrick had sent his thanks and asked if they could visit again the following Saturday, perhaps for a bit longer. Today was Friday, so it was just over a week away.

      ‘I realize this is more introduction than we would normally do,’ Jill added. ‘But if it helps prepare Michael for when he moves in, when Patrick goes into hospital, then it seems appropriate.’

      ‘Yes, that’s fine with me,’ I said. ‘I could make us some dinner.’

      ‘Let’s set the time for their visit as two to six. Does that fit in with your plans?’

      ‘Yes, or two to seven if they are staying for dinner.’

      ‘OK. I’ll run it past Stella and get back to you. If I can’t reach her this afternoon, it’ll be Monday. Have a good weekend.’

      ‘Thanks, Jill. And you.’

      When Jill phoned back on Monday afternoon she asked if we’d had a good weekend and then confirmed that Patrick and Michael would be visiting from 2.00 to 7.00 p.m. the following Saturday. She passed on Patrick’s thanks and Stella’s gratitude for being so accommodating, but there was no need. If they came and stayed for dinner it would be more like a social event than part of the introductions for a fostering placement, and something I would look forward to, as I thought Adrian and Paula would too. As soon as Jill had finished on the phone I began planning what I would cook for dinner on Saturday. I knew Patrick and Michael were both meat eaters because Patrick had mentioned the roasts he liked to cook after church on Sundays, so I thought roast chicken with vegetables would be a good idea, and perhaps I’d make a bread-and-butter pudding; I hadn’t made one in ages and Adrian and Paula loved it. Planning for Saturday gave me a frisson of warmth for the rest of the day and indeed most of that week.

      However, it was not to be.

      On Thursday afternoon when I was standing in the school playground with Paula, waiting for Adrian to come out, my mobile rang. ‘Sorry,’ I said to the mother I was talking to, taking my phone from my pocket. Jill’s office number was displayed and I moved slightly away from the group I’d been standing with in case what Jill had to say was confidential.

      ‘Cathy, where are you?’ Jill asked as soon as I answered. ‘Are you collecting Adrian from school?’ She spoke quickly, suggesting it was urgent.

      ‘I’m in the playground now, waiting for his class to come out. What’s the matter?’

      ‘Patrick has just been admitted to hospital. He collapsed at home this afternoon. A neighbour found him and called an ambulance.’

      ‘Oh. Is he all right?’ I said, which was a really silly question.

      ‘I don’t have any more details, but can you collect Michael from school and look after him for the weekend? It’s what we’d been working towards but obviously it’s come early. Michael’s going to be very upset and shocked, as it’s all happened so quickly. His teacher is looking after him until you arrive. I’ll phone the school and tell them you’re on your way. You know where St Joseph’s school is?’

      ‘Yes,’ I said, shocked by the news. ‘I’ll go as soon as I’ve got Adrian. Is Patrick very ill?’

      ‘I don’t know. I’ll phone Stella after I’ve phoned the school and see what I can find out. We’ll need to get a change of clothes for Michael and also see about hospital visiting.’

      ‘Yes,’ I said, my thoughts reeling. The school doors opened and classes began filing out. ‘I should be at Michael’s school in about fifteen minutes,’ I said to Jill.

      ‘I’ll phone them and let them know. Thanks. I’ll be in touch.’

      Saying a quick goodbye, I returned my phone to my jacket pocket and took hold of Paula’s hand. I gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘That was Jill,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid Michael’s daddy isn’t very well. He’s in hospital. We’re going to collect Michael from school and he’s staying the weekend.’ I took some comfort from Jill’s words, which suggested Patrick would be coming out of hospital again after the weekend.

      ‘Aren’t they coming for dinner on Saturday?’ Paula asked as Adrian’s class began streaming out.

      ‘No. Well, Michael will be with us but his daddy isn’t well enough.’

      I spotted Adrian and gave a little wave. He bounded over. ‘Can Jack come to tea? He’s free tonight.’

      ‘I’m sorry, not tonight,’ I said as Jack dragged his mother over. ‘Can we make it next week?’

      ‘Sure,’ Jack’s mother said. ‘I told Jack it was too short notice.’

      Adrian pulled a face.

      ‘I’ll speak to you next week and arrange something,’ I confirmed to Jack’s mother.

      ‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘Come on, Jack.’

      I began across the playground with a disgruntled Adrian on one side and Paula on the other. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said to Adrian, ‘but it would have been a good idea to ask me first before you invited Jack for tea. I’ve just had a call from Jill and –’

      ‘Michael’s daddy is in hospital,’ Paula put in.

      ‘Thank you, Paula,’ I said a little tersely. ‘I can tell Adrian.’ I could feel myself getting stressed.

      ‘We’re going to Michael’s school now,’ I clarified. ‘His daddy was taken to hospital this afternoon. Michael will be staying with us for the weekend. I know it’s all a bit short notice but it can’t be helped. Michael’s obviously going to be very worried and upset.’

      Adrian didn’t say anything but his face had lost its grumpiness and disappointment at not having Jack to tea and was now showing concern for Michael.

      We went round the corner to where I’d parked the car and the children clambered into the back. I helped Paula fasten her seatbelt as Adrian fastened his. I then drove to Michael’s school – St Joseph’s Roman Catholic primary school – on the other side of the town centre, although I used the back route to avoid going through the town itself. During the drive we were all quiet, concerned for Michael and his father and feeling the sadness Michael must be feeling.

      The road outside the school was clear, most of the children having gone home, so I was able to park where the zigzag lines ended outside the school. The building was a typical Victorian church school with high windows, a stone-arched entrance porch and a small playground at the front, now protected by a tall wire-netting fence. Although I’d driven past the school before, I’d never been inside. Someone in the school must have seen us cross the playground, for as I opened the heavy outer wooden door and entered the enclosed dark porch, the inner door suddenly opened. I was startled as a priest in a full-length black cassock stood before us. Adrian and Paula had stopped short too.

      ‘You’ve come to collect Michael?’ the priest asked.

      ‘Yes. I’m Cathy Glass.’

      ‘Come this way. Michael is waiting in the head teacher’s office.’ He turned and led the way.

      We followed the priest down a dark wood-panelled corridor, which was lined with huge gilt-framed religious pictures – of Mary, Christ and hosts of angels. It was like stepping back in time and a complete contrast to the bright modern school with wall displays of children’s artwork that Adrian went

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