The Night the Angels Came. Cathy Glass

      ‘It’s all right,’ I soothed gently. ‘It’s OK to be upset. I understand.’

      ‘I miss my dad,’ Michael said. ‘I want to be with him.’

      ‘I know you do, love. If I haven’t heard anything from Stella soon I’ll phone and see if there is any news, and ask her when you can visit.’

      ‘My dad needs me,’ Michael said, his brow creasing. ‘We’re never apart.’ As well as hearing Michael’s deep sadness at their separation I heard his anxiety and sense of responsibility for his father.

      ‘Your dad is being very well looked after by the doctors and nurses,’ I reassured him. ‘You’ve done so much caring for your dad and now it’s their turn to help.’

      ‘Why didn’t they phone me instead of taking him to hospital?’ Michael asked, as though he was responsible for his dad being admitted to hospital. ‘I look after him when he’s unwell.’

      ‘I know you do, love, and you do a fantastic job, but sometimes people need what a hospital can offer. The doctors and nurses can do more there.’ Michael was still sitting upright and rigid, as though trying to keep his grief under control and accepting my hug would be a sign of weakness.

      ‘Are the doctors making Michael’s daddy better?’ Paula asked, still snuggled into my side. Her tears were subsiding now she’d had some reassurance from me.

      ‘The doctors are making sure Patrick is very comfortable,’ I said carefully, for in truth I’d no idea how Patrick was.

      ‘And you’ll phone?’ Michael asked.

      ‘Yes, I’m expecting your social worker to phone me but if she doesn’t by the time I’ve finished preparing dinner, then I’ll phone her.’

      ‘Mum will,’ Adrian confirmed. He was sitting in the chair opposite, sombrely watching us. ‘Mum always does what she says.’ Which I thought was sweet and showed Adrian had confidence in me despite my failings.

      ‘What time will you phone?’ Michael persisted.

      I glanced at the clock. ‘If I haven’t heard anything I’ll phone at five thirty,’ which seemed to reassure Michael at little. He gave a small nod and then wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve. ‘I’ll get you a tissue,’ I said.

      Giving them both a little hug, which Michael resisted, I stood and fetched the box of tissues, and Michael and Paula took a few each.

      ‘Do you want the television on?’ Adrian asked Michael. ‘Or do you want to play something?’

      Michael shrugged. ‘Don’t mind.’

      ‘Why don’t you and Paula take Michael to where all the toys are and the three of you can choose something?’ I said to Adrian. I thought that hunting through the cupboards, drawers and boxes of toys and games would provide a distraction and occupy their thoughts if nothing else.

      Adrian stood, Michael and Paula followed, and the three of them went off to the conservatory-cum-playroom, where most of the toys were kept, while I returned to the kitchen to continue with the preparation of dinner. It was nearly 5.15 before the phone rang and I grabbed the extension in the kitchen. My stomach churned as I heard Stella’s voice.

      ‘Good and bad news,’ she said. ‘Patrick has regained consciousness but he doesn’t want Michael to visit him.’

       Chapter Eight Michael’s Daddy

      ‘Patrick’s red blood cell count is very low, which is why he collapsed,’ Stella continued. ‘He’s having a blood transfusion. He’s feeling pretty rough at present and is on a ward with some very ill people. He doesn’t want Michael to see him there, as he thinks it will worry him more. If all goes well Patrick should be out of hospital on Monday. Apparently Michael has never seen his dad in hospital before and Patrick wants to keep it that way for as long as is possible.’

      ‘I see,’ I said doubtfully. ‘I’m not sure stopping Michael from visiting is a good idea. Michael is desperate to see his dad. I think seeing him on a hospital ward with other ill people won’t be as bad as not seeing him at all.’

      ‘Yes, I know, I tend to agree, but Patrick wants to protect Michael for as long as he can. And we have to respect his wishes.’ Which I had to accept. ‘Patrick would like to phone Michael later this evening. Is it all right if I give him your landline number?’

      ‘Yes, of course.’

      ‘Will you explain to Michael what I’ve told you? And also tell him that I’ll bring him a change of school clothes and what he needs for the weekend this evening. Patrick gave me a list of what Michael needs over the phone. I’m going to their house ‘ now; a neighbour has a key. Then I’ll come on to you. I won’t be there for another hour or so. Is that all right with you?’

      ‘Yes. Does Patrick have what he needs in hospital?’ I asked, mindful that he had been rushed in unconscious without time to pack an overnight bag.

      ‘The neighbour’s husband is taking in what he needs. I won’t speak to Michael now, as I have to get going. Explain to him, please, and I’ll see him later.’

      ‘I will.’

      I replaced the phone in its cradle on the kitchen wall and was about to go through to the sitting room to tell the children what was happening when Michael appeared, having heard the phone ring. His face was tight and anxious and I knew he was expecting bad news. ‘It’s all right,’ I reassured him quickly. ‘Your dad is doing fine. He’s having a blood transfusion and should be able to leave hospital on Monday.’ His face brightened a little. ‘Do you know what a blood transfusion is?’ I asked.

      He nodded. ‘When can I see him?’

      ‘Your dad is going to phone you later, here, but as he’s only in hospital for the weekend he’s told Stella there’s no need for you to visit him. He’ll see you at home as soon as he comes out.’

      I’d phrased it as best I could, but predictably Michael said, ‘But I want to see him tonight, or tomorrow. You said we would.’

      I hadn’t said we would but that wasn’t the issue. ‘I have to do what your father thinks is best for you,’ I said gently. ‘I can’t go against his wishes. He thinks it’s best if he phones you instead of you visiting, as it’s just for the weekend. He’s given Stella a list of what you’ll need for tomorrow and the weekend and she’s bringing your things here later. She’ll be able to tell us more when we see her and so will your father when he phones. Is that all right, love?’ Michael gave a small nod and seemed to accept what I was saying. ‘Could you tell Adrian and Paula dinner is ready, please?’

      Giving another small nod Michael turned and went off to tell Adrian and Paula. A few moments later the three of them came into the kitchen/diner. As they entered I heard Michael telling Adrian and Paula that his dad was getting better and he would be phoning later. While Michael probably understood that his use of the phrase ‘getting better’ referred to a temporary remission in an otherwise poor prognosis, I wondered if Paula and Adrian might assume Patrick was now making a full recovery, for in their limited experience of illness people who were sick got better.

      I was right. ‘Michael’s daddy is getting better,’ Paula announced as we sat at the table to eat. ‘He’s not going to die.’

      ‘Not yet,’ Michael put in quickly, which saved me from a very difficult and painful conversation.

      I looked at him with a reassuring smile. He returned my smile, the tension having eased a little from his face. Even if Patrick’s remission was only temporary, like Michael I rejoiced in it, and there was always hope. ‘We’ll have a nice weekend,’ I said to him. ‘What would you like to do?’

      Michael looked thoughtful for a second and then asked quietly, ‘Can we go swimming? I used to go swimming every Saturday with my dad