Will You Love Me?: The story of my adopted daughter Lucy: Part 2 of 3. Cathy Glass
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СКАЧАТЬ two days in the week when we have time to enjoy it. By eleven o’clock Adrian was showered and dressed, too, and caught in the frisson of excited expectation that had enveloped the house. So, with half an hour to go before Lucy’s arrival, we were all ready and waiting, except …

      ‘Where’s Toscha?’ I asked, suddenly realizing she wasn’t in her favourite spot on the chair by the window.

      We looked around the obvious places and couldn’t see her. Then the children helped me search the house from top to bottom: under the beds; in corners (especially by radiators); in and behind cupboards; even in the airing cupboard, where she’d once been found; but there was no sign of Toscha.

      ‘I expect she’s out,’ Adrian said. ‘I take it she is allowed to use the cat flap?’

      ‘Very funny,’ I said, unimpressed.

      I peered out of the window but couldn’t see Toscha in the garden. I slipped on my coat and, taking her bag of favourite cat biscuits with me, went into the garden. I shook the bag while calling her name, but no Toscha came running. It was now nearly 11.20, and apart from Lucy being disappointed when she arrived that there was no Toscha when I’d promised there would be, I was also growing concerned. Toscha was a creature of habit and didn’t normally go outside and vanish in the middle of the morning, especially in winter.

      Then I heard Adrian shout from inside the house: ‘Mum! Come in. She was on the bed in Lucy’s room! You shut her in!’

      Relieved, I returned indoors, thinking she must have crept into Lucy’s room without me seeing her when I’d checked it earlier. I’d closed Lucy’s bedroom door as I’d come out, and her room had been the one room I hadn’t thought to search. Fortunately, Adrian had.

      ‘Well done, love,’ I said, as he set Toscha on the sofa ready to receive our new arrival.

      It wasn’t a moment too soon, for as Toscha curled herself into a ball, comfortably resting her head on her front paws and unaware what all the fuss had been about, the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be them,’ I said.

      Paula slipped her hand into mine and came with me down the hall to answer the door, while Adrian stayed on the sofa stroking Toscha. I felt a little rush of nervousness as I opened the door, and Paula squeezed my hand.

      ‘Hello,’ I smiled at the three of them.

      ‘Hi, Cathy,’ Pat said brightly. ‘This is my husband Terry, and this is Lucy.’

      ‘Hi, Terry. Hello, love,’ I said to Lucy. ‘Come on in.’

      Lucy’s large dark eyes rounded as she looked at me. She was a petite, slender child with gorgeous long black silky hair, which hung loosely over her shoulders. She was wearing a smart winter coat, open at the front, with new jeans and a pink jumper underneath. I smiled at her again as she came in.

      ‘I’ll get the cases,’ Terry said.

      ‘Thanks. I’ll leave the door on the latch,’ I said, as he disappeared back down the path. Then to Lucy and Pat I said: ‘This is Paula. Adrian and Toscha are in the living room – straight down the hall.’

      ‘What a nice house,’ Pat said encouragingly to Lucy as we went down the hall.

      Lucy didn’t reply; I didn’t expect her to – even Paula was nervous and still had her hand in mine.

      As we entered the living room, Adrian looked up from stroking Toscha and said, ‘Hi.’

      ‘Hi,’ Pat said. ‘Nice to meet you. This is Lucy.’

      Adrian threw Lucy a small self-conscious smile. She was standing close to Pat, head slightly bowed and looking at the cat from under her fringe. ‘Shall I take your coat, love?’ I suggested. ‘It’s warm in here.’

      Without speaking or looking at me, Lucy slipped out of her coat and handed it to me. The poor child looked so lost and ill at ease, it broke my heart. ‘I’m sure Toscha would like a stroke from you, too,’ I said, trying to make her feel at home.

      Adrian looked at Lucy and threw her another smile. Then, very gingerly, almost cat-like herself, she lightly crossed the room and sat on the sofa on the other side of Toscha and began gently stroking her. Paula found the courage to let go of my hand and went over to join Lucy and Adrian, standing just in front of them to form a little semi-circle as they all stroked the cat. Toscha had never had so much attention and was purring loudly. Pat and I sat in the chairs watching them and made light conversation as Terry brought Lucy’s bags into the hall. He closed the front door and then joined us in the living room, saying hello to Adrian. ‘Nice garden,’ he said, nodding at the view through the patio doors.

      ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘We make the most of it in the summer.’

      There was a short awkward silence and then, turning to Pat, and following my advice about keeping their departure short, Terry said, ‘Well, I suppose we’d better be off.’

      Pat nodded. ‘We’ll phone you in a week,’ she said to Lucy.

      Lucy didn’t reply or look up but concentrated on petting Toscha. Pat then went over and kissed the top of Lucy’s head. I thought Lucy might have wanted a hug or, perhaps finding separating difficult, cry, but she didn’t. She just gave a small nod and then said in a very quiet voice, without looking up: ‘Goodbye.’

      Lucy’s face was emotionless, and I instinctively felt she was a child used to hiding her emotions, probably as a coping mechanism to stop her from being hurt again.

      ‘Goodbye then, Lucy,’ Terry called from across the room. ‘Take care.’

      Lucy gave another small nod and continued stroking Toscha.

      I showed Pat and Terry to the front door. ‘Don’t worry, Lucy will be fine,’ I reassured them. ‘I’m sure she won’t stay this quiet for long.’

      They both looked at me a little oddly. ‘She will,’ Pat said. ‘She’s hardly said a word to us in the whole three months she’s been with us. To be honest, we found her silence quite unnerving. The most she ever said was the other day when we told her she would be moving. Then she shouted and screamed. Perhaps she’s schizophrenic?’

      ‘More like traumatized,’ I said, a little tersely, concerned that a serious medical condition could be assigned so loosely.

      I reassured Pat and Terry again that Lucy would be fine and we said goodbye. Closing the front door, I returned down the hall, still thinking of Pat’s comment. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard an adult – carer, parent, teacher or even a social worker – resort to labelling a child for behaviour they didn’t understand. Schizophrenia, ADHD, dyslexia, autism, etc. – these words should only be used after a medical diagnosis, because labels can stick. I hoped they hadn’t said anything similar within earshot of Lucy.

      In the living room, Adrian, Paula and Lucy were still grouped around Toscha, stroking her.

      ‘I’ll go and play in my room then, Mum, if that’s OK?’ Adrian said, standing, and eager to be on his Nintendo.

      ‘Of course, love, and thanks for your help finding Toscha.’

      ‘It’s OK!’ he called, disappearing out of the living room.

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