Her Perfect Life: A gripping debut psychological thriller with a killer twist. Sam Hepburn

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       16

      Gracie had hoped that the Introduction to Adoption talk would be held somewhere large and impersonal. Instead it’s a cosy round-table gathering in one of the council meeting rooms, a high-ceilinged chamber filled with early evening sunlight. Just fifteen potential adopters; mainly women on their own sipping water from plastic cups, and a few fidgety couples whispering together as they study the handouts. A little of the tension breaks when a red-faced man bursts in demanding to know if this is the stand-up comedy workshop. A ripple of giggles and shaking heads sends him back down the corridor.

      Tom doesn’t even smile. Gracie feels his nervousness and tries to distract him. ‘I’m popping down to the events site tomorrow to see how they’re getting on with clearing it. We should take Elsie down there one weekend. It’s such a beautiful spot—’

      He shushes her as a large black woman enters the room. She has crisp greying hair braided tight to her scalp, and a mouth that seems to smile even in repose. She introduces herself as Thelma Johnson. Her assistant Carol, a smaller, neater, younger woman, gives off a palpable air of calm. These are good people, Gracie thinks. The ones who care.

      Thelma welcomes everyone and talks of the adoption process as a journey that only the robust, committed and able will complete. ‘This is no time for self-delusion,’ she says, her dark-circled eyes taking in each face in turn. ‘It’s our job as social workers to get a sense of you, to make sure that you are the person you say you are and, just as crucially, to find out if you are the person you think you are.

      ‘What is your understanding of parenting? Do you have the emotional resilience to deal with stress, conflict and rejection? Do you have in mind a fantasy child that no reality can ever meet? Are you truly capable of love?’ The eyes of her audience flit away to settle on walls and thumbs. ‘If you see adoption as a way to get over the loss of a child, a parent, a job or a relationship, think again. This is not about what you want. It’s about what the child needs.’

      Tom’s chair creaks as he leans back. He catches Gracie’s eye, seeking reassurance, which she cannot give. She turns her attention back to Thelma who is talking about babies given up voluntarily, describing them as ‘relinquished’, a word that whispers softly in Gracie’s ears, hinting at snapped threads and an endless ache of loss.

      ‘Even voluntarily relinquished newborns nearly always go into foster care to give the birth mother the opportunity to reclaim her baby,’ Thelma is saying. ‘So it’s very unlikely that you will be offered a child under two. But whatever the age of the child, where possible we encourage a meeting with the birth mother, and feel it’s important for that child to maintain contact with its birth siblings. Could you cope with that?’

      Gracie twists at her rings.

      ‘Ask yourselves. Are you truly willing to devote yourself to the needs of a child who comes with a genetic endowment and a history separate from your own?’

      Gracie and Tom walk out of the meeting with their fists full of forms and their heads full of words that have grown heavy with new meaning.