Four Waifs on Our Doorstep (31 page)

‘Well, they have done it, and the solicitor says there’s nothing we can do about it. Only the carers themselves can take the combined agency to tribunal, but even if they do, that
will be too late to help us.’

I was confused. I couldn’t believe it. ‘So, are you saying we won’t get any of the rest of the money at all?’

‘Not a penny.’

‘They’ve swindled us out of the lot?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

All my plans for the family and for our retirement fell apart that day.

As I sat with Mike and the kids watching something on the telly that evening, a pall of tiredness came over me and I couldn’t keep my eyes open, so I went up to bed early and slept through
till about half-past five, as usual, though I still felt heavy with fatigue.

I got up and went through the motions, getting Carrie and Sam’s breakfasts and seeing Mike off with them to drop them at their schools, then loading the dishwasher, worrying about Jamie
and Stacey. Yes, despite everything, I wanted her to be safe.

My mind was constantly buzzing with everything that seemed to be going wrong. I remembered Stacey’s thefts from me, Jamie running away from home, the solicitor ringing to say the
children’s court case couldn’t go ahead, our being swindled and losing all that money from the sale of the agency, and of course there was Mike still slowly recuperating, but forever
blighted by Stacey’s devastating allegation.

There were a hundred and one things I needed to do, but first I decided to give Anna a ring as we hadn’t seen her for a week.

I remember keying in her number and looking at the clock, nine fifteen, as I waited for her to pick up her phone.

‘Hello, sweetheart,’ I said, ‘I don’t know whether you were thinking of coming up today . . . you could come for lunch if you like.’

‘Oh, thanks. I might do, Mum . . .’

That’s all I remember. Everything went blank from that moment. But later Anna told me I had groaned like a wounded animal and let out a long wail which set the puppy barking, then she
heard my phone clatter onto the flag-stoned floor.

26

A
nna drove straight over, ran into the house and found me unconscious on the kitchen floor with Poppy our golden Labrador lying beside me.

She called for an ambulance and they came very quickly. They raced me into A & E, and straight through to Intensive Care. They thought at the time that I might have had both a heart attack
and a stroke. I don’t do things by halves!

While I was still unconscious, they did various tests and investigations and kept me in Intensive Care, where I finally woke up a couple of days later. I remember coming round gradually in a
hospital bed, with a drip in my arm and all these people sat around me, crying. Oh my God! I didn’t know what was going on or why I was there, so I opened my mouth to ask but no words came
out. I must have looked like a goldfish.

I was totally confused and couldn’t work things out. I remember seeing all these strangers looking at me and trying to shoo them out.

With a great effort, I finally managed to say the words: ‘Go away!’

I don’t remember whether they did go that day, or what happened. I just remember my head was throbbing and my brain felt as if it was full of wet cotton wool. When I tried to move my arms,
they felt heavy and wouldn’t respond how I wanted them to. I knew how to move them. I could move them, but they were uncoordinated.

The next morning when Mike came in, I recognised him this time, and I remembered his name. Then soon after, Jane arrived, crying. I recognised her as my daughter, but I had trouble getting her
name out.

‘J-J-Jane.’

Then my other daughter Sally came in but, try as I might, I couldn’t remember her name. I knew she was my daughter and I was panicking. How can I not remember her name? I didn’t want
her to know I couldn’t remember it, but then it came to me.

Val and Dennis, old friends of mine, came in to visit me that afternoon. They each came straight over and gave me a hug. I couldn’t remember them at all and I felt really embarrassed that
this strange man had his arm round me. The next time they came, two or three days later, I did recognise them, and we laughed about it.

When Anna visited, I was delighted.

‘I’m so glad you came.’ I worked hard to say the words and my speech sounded stilted, but at least I could say a little of what was in my heart. ‘Thank you for finding me
and getting me to hospital quickly.’

‘Well, thank goodness you rang me, because it happened while we were talking on the phone. That’s how I knew to come straight away. I don’t know whether you remember, but you
had just invited me to lunch, and then you started to groan, followed by the most awful, wailing, screaming noise.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ she shuddered. ‘I shall never forget it.’

I manoeuvred my free hand onto hers. ‘Thank you for saving my life.’

A hospital doctor came to see me after a few days and told me the results of my tests. ‘You’ve had a stroke, Mrs Merry,’ he said. ‘But, fortunately, it
didn’t paralyse you.’

Yes, I could move everything, but I couldn’t walk properly. My legs felt as if I’d lain on them badly for a few hours. They were heavy and numb and wouldn’t do quite what I
wanted, and they were like that all the time that first week before gradually starting to get better. It felt like my brain wasn’t connected to my body. My balance wasn’t good either
and I had to hold on to something or someone to get about.

The staff moved me into the unit next to Intensive Care, but it was so awful being in hospital. I had to leave as soon as I could. They hadn’t washed me or given me a bath or even combed
my hair, and I couldn’t eat most of the food they brought me.

‘I’ve got to go home,’ I said to Mike one visiting time. I don’t care if I have to walk all the way, I can’t stay another night in this place.’

‘But you’re not ready to go home yet,’ he said.

‘I’ll be even less ready if I have to stay here any longer.’

‘But you can’t go while you’re attached to that drip.’

‘Tell them I want to go home and ask them to take the drip out. If they don’t come and do it, I’ll take it out myself.’

Sally was staying at the house, so she brought in some clothes when she came to visit later that day. She helped me to get dressed and gathered up all my get-well cards to take home.

A young doctor came in to see me. ‘I hear you want to go home, Mrs Merry,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid we are not able to discharge you yet as we don’t feel you’re
well enough to leave. That’s why you’re in this special care unit.’

‘Well, if you won’t discharge me, I’ll discharge myself,’ I insisted.

Mike was reluctant to aid and abet me in flouting medical opinion but of course he was happy that I would be at home with him. So he helped me down to the car and drove me away. I can’t
remember the journey until he turned into our long drive, leading past some farm buildings and up to our house in the distance.

That’s when I started panicking again. I didn’t remember the house, and when we got inside I didn’t know where to go. It was frightening not being able to remember the way
around my own house. It was like a stranger’s house to me that first day. I didn’t know where anything was or how to do the everyday things I’d always taken for granted. I
couldn’t even have made a cake.

I still couldn’t walk properly. It felt very odd because I knew what to do, but I couldn’t quite do it. The family were wonderful, looking after me so well and helping me to get
moving again. My speech was still rather halting and it took quite a while for me to remember all the words and names I should have known.

The other change in me that seemed to have been brought on by this stroke was how vindictive I increasingly felt towards Stacey for the despicable way she treated Mike, which brought on his
heart attack and must have contributed to my stroke too. I didn’t want to be so vehement about her, but I couldn’t seem to control my anger in those early days after I came home from
the hospital. Of course, Stacey probably didn’t even know we’d both been so ill.

About three months after I came home, a letter came through with a hospital appointment for me the following week. In the meantime, I started to remember how to do things. One
day I went out and sat in the car. I looked at everything and tried it out. My memory was coming back so I went for a drive. I knew I had to be careful, but I was overjoyed that my brain was
working better now and I remembered how to drive.

At the hospital, I had scans and tests in the morning. Then a cheeky young medic explained to me what it all meant.

‘Your blood-pressure is that of someone in their thirties, your pulse-rate is fantastic and there is no furring in your arteries whatsoever. Look at your blood vessels compared to mine . .
.’ He showed me the two scans. ‘Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.’

‘OK. That’s good to know.’

‘We’ve scanned every part of your brain and everything looks fine. So although you had all the indicators of a stroke when you were brought into Intensive Care, I don’t think
you’ve had a stroke, Mrs Merry.’ He paused. ‘Have you had a lot of stress lately?’

‘A tad!’ I laughed. ‘Stress in spades.’

‘I would think you’ve had a total protective close-down. A burnout. It happens to people in very stressful jobs and those who’ve experienced traumas. Your brain couldn’t
cope any more, so it shut down to have a rest.’

At least I didn’t have to worry about having another stroke, but it took me several months to regain full health and mobility. And my memory has never fully come back to what it used to
be.

Mike had recovered well from his heart attack, but now that I was better, he wouldn’t go out. He wouldn’t go to Tesco’s or anywhere. He didn’t want
anyone to see him and he refused to go anywhere there might be children.

Even at home, he was quieter, more withdrawn. Where he would have joked and teased before, now he became more detached in most family conversations. If I walked out of a room where Carrie and
Sam were, he walked out too. He couldn’t even stay in a room with the two of them together. He was a broken man.

I remember one day, Anna brought her baby daughter Carla to see us. I was doing all the usual things with her, trying to make her smile, playing with her feet, making funny faces. Mike sat at
the other end of the long sofa, looking on. He had always been wonderful with babies before and could make them laugh quicker than me. But now he just watched from afar. I went off to put the
kettle on, then Anna, bless her cotton socks, picked up Carla and plonked her down next to Mike.

‘I’ve got to go to the loo,’ she said as she left the room.

‘Trisha,’ he called me back urgently. I thought something was wrong.

‘You can’t leave me on my own with Carla.’

‘She just wants picking up, love,’ I reassured him, my heart aching, heavy with the sadness of what was lost.

‘Stay in the room, won’t you?’

‘Yes, I want to take a photo of you with Carla, so you just hold her on your knee.’

‘I can’t hold her,’ he protested, his face lined with anxiety.

‘Just for the photo then,’ I said. He picked her up gingerly and I pressed the button as Anna came back into the room.

‘You shouldn’t have left me with Carla,’ Mike said to her. ‘I had to call Trisha.’

Anna gave him a gentle smile. ‘If I’d thought there was even an ounce of truth in that allegation, do you think I’d have brought my daughter to see you today?’

She was an angel and I was very moved by her loving gesture. I know that, deep down, Mike was too. But it didn’t make the hurt go away.

We hadn’t heard from Jamie for several weeks now and he didn’t return my texts or calls. I hoped he was OK. There wasn’t a day that went by without my
thinking of him. I hoped he would come back to us one day, but I knew he might not and I feared what the future would bring for him. After all those years of looking after his younger siblings, he
needed someone to care about him.

I know it sounds ridiculous, after all the harm she had done to us, both Mike and me, over the previous few months, but I never stopped worrying about Stacey, either. I couldn’t shed the
anger and resentment, but I didn’t stop loving her. I couldn’t talk about it with anyone. If I ever tried to broach the subject with any of the rest of the family, it was like a brick
wall. I couldn’t even mention her name.

‘I’ll never forgive her for what she did,’ said Jane, and the others all agreed. I didn’t feel I could forgive her either. It was such a malicious betrayal and the pain
of it was still too raw. I just wanted to know where she was and whether she was safe.

One morning, when the postman came, I went to pick up the mail from the mat, and there was one with handwriting I recognised. I tore it open.

The tears came to my eyes as I reached for the phone, so relieved that he had come back to us. It was wonderful to be in regular contact with him again. He had a new life now,
gearing up to become a father for real, not just a big brother acting as a father. This time he was confident he could love and protect his child and meet his needs, without the dangers he had
battled in his own past. We all looked forward to the birth, and when he arrived we welcomed Jordan with joy. He was a gorgeous baby.