Can I Let You Go?: Part 1 of 3: A heartbreaking true story of love, loss and moving on
Can I Let You Go? is the true story of Faye, a wonderful young woman who may never be able to parent her unborn child.Faye is 24, pregnant, and has learning difficulties as a result of her mother’s alcoholism. Faye is gentle, childlike and vulnerable, and normally lives with her grandparents, both of whom have mobility problems. Cathy and her children welcome Faye into their home and hearts. The care plan is for Faye to stay with Cathy until after the birth when she will return home and the baby will go for adoption. Given that Faye never goes out alone it is something of a mystery how she ever became pregnant and Faye says it’s a secret.To begin with Faye won’t acknowledge she is pregnant or talk about the changes in her body as she worries it will upset her grandparents, but after her social worker assures her she can talk to Cathy she opens up. However, this leads to Faye realizing just how much she will lose and she changes her mind and says she wants to keep her baby.Is it possible Faye could learn enough to parent her child? Cathy believes it is, and Faye’s social worker is obliged to give Faye the chance.
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Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the children.
HarperElement
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First published by HarperElement 2016
FIRST EDITION
© Cathy Glass 2016
A catalogue record of this book is
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Cover photograph © plainpicture/Westend61/Valentina Barreto (posed by models)
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Source ISBN: 9780008153748
Ebook Edition © August 2016 ISBN: 9780008156626
Version: 2016-07-25
Contents
Chapter One: Hope for the Future?
Chapter Two: Faye and Snuggles
A big thank you to my family; my editors, Carolyn and Holly; my literary agent, Andrew; my UK publishers HarperCollins, and my overseas publishers who are now too numerous to list by name. Last, but definitely not least, a big thank you to my readers for your unfailing support and kind words. They are much appreciated.
Chapter One
‘Are you sure you are going to be all right alone tonight?’ I asked Mum again.
‘Yes, love. Don’t you worry about me,’ she replied, putting on a brave face. ‘Phone to let me know you are home safely.’
‘I will,’ I said. But I didn’t move. My children, Adrian, Lucy and Paula, were standing beside me, their expressions sad and serious as they shared my concerns. We were standing in the front porch of Mum’s house, trying to say goodbye, but it was very difficult. We were the last to go and would be leaving her alone.
‘I could stay with you tonight, Nana,’ Paula offered as she had done before, indeed as we all had.
‘No, thank you, love,’ Mum said. ‘That’s kind of you, but I’ll have to get used to being by myself. I’ll see you all again soon. Now off you go home. It’s been a long day for us all. I’ll watch a bit of television and then after you’ve phoned I’ll have an early night.’
None of us looked convinced, but clearly Mum wasn’t going to change her mind about one of us staying, and we had to respect her decision.
‘We’ll phone as soon as we’re home,’ I said. I kissed and hugged her again and then stepped out of the porch so that Adrian, Lucy and Paula could hug and kiss her goodbye too.
It was a dark night with no moon, but the porch lamp cast a little oasis of light over our departing group. The air was cool, it was late September, but at least it had stayed dry all day, for certainly heavy rain and dark storm clouds would have added to our gloom and misery. I took the few steps to my car parked on the drive and unlocked the doors, but I didn’t get in. I stood beside the car, watching Mum until my children had finished saying their goodbyes and had come over to join me. I still call them children, although they were young adults now: Adrian, twenty-two, Lucy, twenty and Paula, eighteen.
‘Don’t forget to lock the front door,’ I called to Mum. I’d already checked the back doors.
‘I won’t, dear, don’t you worry about me.’
I gave a small nod and the children and I climbed into the car and lowered our windows ready to wave as we departed. I started the engine and then slowly reversed off the drive as Mum stood in the porch waving and we waved back. How many times had we done this? I couldn’t begin to guess, for we saw my parents often, usually with the children we fostered. Mum and Dad would stand side by side in the porch, waving and smiling and already looking forward to our next visit, as we did theirs. But now our departure was restrained and a little muted, for it was just Mum seeing us off, bravely. And it would only ever be Mum in the future, for sadly my dear dad had died suddenly three weeks before, and today had been his funeral.
Once we were out of sight of the house we wound up our windows and I drove steadily and in silence towards our home. The children were silent too. Each of us deep in thought, doubtless thinking of the good, kind man who was no longer with us and the huge gap his passing had left in our lives. Although my father had been in his eighties he’d been in fine health, so it had come as a terrible shock when my brother telephoned my mobile to say he had died. Completely unexpected and a huge loss. The end had been very quick, if that was any consolation. His heart just stopped. He went into his garden to do some weeding and Mum looked through the window and saw him sitting on the damp grass, which she thought odd. She went out and he said her name once and then lay down on his side and closed his eyes, and that was it. She ran indoors, telephoned for an ambulance and then covered him with a blanket to keep him warm. She sat beside him holding his hand and talking to him, while knowing in her heart of hearts that he had probably already passed. When the ambulance arrived there was nothing they could do. He’d died of a massive heart attack.
