Where Has Mummy Gone?: Part 3 of 3: A young girl and a mother who no longer knows her
The true story of Melody, aged 8, the last of five siblings to be taken from her drug dependent single mother and brought into care.When Cathy is told about Melody’s terrible childhood, she is sure she’s heard it all before. But it isn’t long before she feels there is more going on than she or the social services are aware of. Although Melody is angry at having to leave her mother, as many children coming into care are, she also worries about her obsessively – far more than is usual. Amanda, Melody’s mother, is also angry and takes it out on Cathy at contact, which again is something Cathy has experienced before. Yet there is a lost and vulnerable look about Amanda, and Cathy starts to see why Melody worries about her and feels she needs looking after.When Amanda misses contact, it is assumed she has forgotten, but nothing could have been further from the truth…
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Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.
HarperElement
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First published by HarperElement 2018
FIRST EDITION
Text © Cathy Glass 2018
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Cover photograph © Kristina Dominianni/Arcangel Images (posed by a model)
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780008305468
Ebook Edition © September 2018 ISBN: 9780008305512
Version 2018-08-13
Contents
Chapter Twenty: A Timely Reminder
Chapter Twenty-Three: Robbed of Dignity
Chapter Twenty-Four: True Heroes
Chapter Twenty-Five: Introductions
Chapter Twenty-Six: Overtired and Emotional
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Lucky to Have Her
Chapter Twenty
Bad news never seems to come alone. I had time to go home first before I needed to collect Melody from school, but as I let myself in Adrian immediately appeared in the hall looking very worried. My first thought was that the exam he’d sat that morning hadn’t gone well, but then he said, ‘Mum, there’s something wrong with Toscha. She’s in her bed and won’t get up. I’ve tried to tempt her with food, but she’s just lying there and her nose is running.’
I quickly followed him into the kitchen-diner where Toscha had her basket in one corner. She was never in her bed during the day. We knelt beside her and I stroked her. She looked so poorly and hadn’t the energy to raise her head, and her eyes were watering. ‘I’ll phone the vet,’ I said, straightening.
‘Here’s the number,’ Adrian said, handing me a piece of paper. ‘I was going to phone them, then you came in.’
‘Thanks, love. Can you get the pet carrier from the cupboard under the stairs? It’s right at the back.’ The carrier was only normally used once a year to take Toscha to the vet for her annual check-up and vaccination – I couldn’t remember her ever being ill before.
I used the handset in the kitchen to phone the vet. They ran an appointments system, but when I described Toscha’s symptoms the receptionist said to bring her in straight away, as there was a nasty flu-type virus appearing in local cats, which could be fatal in older animals. I felt my heart twist and said I’d be there in ten minutes. Adrian and I gently lifted Toscha into the carrier. Normally she had to be tempted in with treats, but now she was too ill to protest. A lump rose in my throat. Toscha had been part of our family for as long as anyone could remember.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Adrian said, picking up the carrier.
‘Thanks but what about studying for your exam tomorrow?’
‘I won’t be able to concentrate until I know she’s OK.’
He carried her to the car and then sat on the back seat with her on his lap, talking to her in a soothing voice. It was only ten minutes to the vet and I was able to park right outside. Adrian carried her in. I went to the reception desk to check in as Adrian sat on a chair with Toscha in the carrier on his lap. There was one other lady in the waiting room, elderly, with a small dog on her lap. Usually Toscha would have hissed at a dog, but now she remained unnaturally quiet.
‘The vet won’t be long,’ the receptionist said. ‘She’s with another emergency, but you’ll go in next.’
‘Thank you so much,’ I said, and sat next to Adrian.
‘Are you the ones with the very sick cat?’ the woman asked.
‘Yes.’ I guessed the receptionist had told her and that we would see the vet ahead of her.
‘I hope your cat is OK. Albert is just here for his check-up.’
I raised a smile and nodded and assumed Albert was her dog. I think she would have liked to chat, but I was too worried about Toscha to make conversation. I also had one eye on the clock. If I was going to be late collecting Melody from school I’d have to phone and let them know. Five minutes ticked by with Toscha remaining unnaturally quiet and still, and then a veterinary assistant came out and showed us through to a consultation room.
The vet was waiting there and we carefully lifted Toscha out of the carrier and put her on the examination table. Adrian and I were silent as the vet looked in Toscha’s eyes, ears and throat, then listened to her chest and took her temperature.
