Will You Love Me?: The story of my adopted daughter Lucy: Part 3 of 3. Cathy Glass
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СКАЧАТЬ hope it doesn’t unsettle Lucy,’ I said.

      ‘Why should it?’ Stevie asked, quite sharply. ‘It’s the child’s mother, for goodness’ sake.’

      ‘It might give Lucy mixed messages,’ I said. ‘She might think there’s a chance of her returning home.’

      ‘I doubt it,’ Stevie said. ‘But if you’re worried, explain to her again what’s happening with the court and so on. She won’t see me, so I can’t.’ Stevie sounded extremely put out and I wondered if she’d expected me to congratulate her on tracing Lucy’s mother.

      ‘I will,’ I said. ‘Also, I’d like to take Lucy on holiday with us at the end of August. Do I have your permission?’

      ‘I should think so. Send me the details, and we’ll need Lucy’s mother’s permission as well, as she still has parental rights. You can mention it to her when you meet her at contact.’

      ‘Will do,’ I said.

      When I told Lucy that Stevie had traced her mother and had set up contact, she shrugged as if she didn’t care.

      ‘It’s for an hour,’ I added. ‘At the contact centre. I’ll take and collect you. It will be nice for me to meet your mother.’

      ‘Will it?’ Lucy said blankly.

      ‘Yes,’ I said, trying to be positive. ‘And I’ll be able to talk to her about you coming on holiday with us. Reassure her that you’ll be safe by the sea.’ I’d already told Lucy I was hoping to take her on holiday.

      ‘She won’t care where I go,’ Lucy said, and changed the subject.

      I thought that as Stevie was on a mission to trace Lucy’s family, and had already succeeded in tracing her mother, then she might succeed with Lucy’s other relatives, specifically her father. I talked to Lucy about this and the Thai culture and put renewed effort into acquiring a Thai flag, which wasn’t proving easy. I knew what the Thai flag looked like – it was horizontally striped in red, white and blue, but it wasn’t easy to find one to buy in England. I phoned various shops and department stores, and even our local Thai restaurant to see if they knew where I could buy one, but without any success. Then I went online, which is what I should have done to begin with. The Flag Store sold flags from all around the world, in various sizes and made from different materials. I could have bought a thirty-foot bunting, but I thought that was a bit over the top, especially as Lucy wasn’t even keen on the idea of having a flag. The smallest flag I could order was three feet by two feet. I put in my card details and the flag arrived three days later. I handed the parcel to Lucy and said, ‘I’ll help you hang it in your bedroom later.’

      She shook out the flag and a look of disdain crossed her face. ‘I’m not having that in my bedroom!’ she said.

      ‘Perhaps I could trim it to make it smaller,’ I suggested.

      ‘No. I want to keep my posters.’ Lucy’s bedroom walls were covered with pictures of cuddly animals and cuttings from her favourite magazines.

      ‘You can keep those as well,’ I said. ‘The flag will only take up part of one wall, and it will make Stevie happy.’

      ‘No,’ Lucy said, her face setting.

      ‘We could pin it on your bedroom door?’ I suggested.

      ‘No,’ Lucy said.

      ‘What about on the outside of the door, so you can’t see it?’

      ‘No,’ Lucy said.

      ‘Or we could use it as a throw-over on your bed? Flags make popular bedspreads, especially with football supporters.’

      Lucy glared at me and pushed the flag into my arms. ‘No, Cathy. I’m sorry, you’ve wasted your money. I don’t want it.’

      Which I accepted. I put the flag away. At least I’d tried, and I could understand why a young girl would rather have pictures on her wall than a flag. There were other, more important issues to concentrate on, like preparing Lucy for seeing her mother, which I did over the coming week.

       ‘I’d Rather Have You’

      I’d arranged for Adrian and Paula to spend the afternoon at their friends’ houses, rather than having to sit in a hot car while I took Lucy to contact and then wait while she saw her mother. As the contact was only for an hour, it wasn’t worth me returning home, so once I’d seen Lucy into the centre and met her mother, I planned to go for a walk in the local park until it was time to collect her. When I’d talked to Lucy about seeing her mother, she’d seemed quite unfazed by the prospect; she hadn’t had any questions to ask me and said she remembered the contact centre from when she’d seen her mother there the year before. However, now we were in the car and on our way she’d fallen very quiet, and I appreciated how unsettled and anxious she was probably feeling, although she was keeping a tight lid on her emotions. I felt nervous. Lucy hadn’t seen her mother for over six months, and I was imagining a very emotional reunion where they fell into each other’s arms and cried openly.

      ‘Stevie said if it all goes well today she’ll set up regular contact,’ I said to Lucy, as I pulled into the car park at the centre. ‘She’s thinking of making it once a week.’

      ‘Mum won’t be around long enough for that,’ Lucy replied.

      I thought Stevie wouldn’t have suggested it if she wasn’t sure it was feasible, but I didn’t say so. ‘Where does your mother go when she disappears?’ I asked. ‘Do you know?’

      ‘No,’ Lucy said bluntly. ‘She never told me. She just went.’

      I thought I’d said enough. Lucy clearly resented my question and now she’d withdrawn into her shell. ‘No worries,’ I said. I parked and cut the engine.

      I turned in my seat to face Lucy. ‘It’s bound to be strange for you both,’ I said, trying to reassure her. ‘But if you have any worries, tell the contact supervisor. Sometimes parents don’t know what to say in contact and can say the wrong thing when they don’t mean to.’ They often talk about their home lives, which can be very upsetting for a child in care.

      Lucy shrugged.

      ‘Come on then,’ I said, with a cheerful smile. ‘Let’s go in. We’re a bit early, but we can wait inside, rather than in the hot car.’

      I got out of the car and went round to open Lucy’s door, which was child-locked. She clambered out and I pressed the fob to lock the doors. As we went up the path leading to the main entrance, Lucy slipped her hand into mine and I gave it a reassuring squeeze. She hadn’t held my hand before and I thought it was an indication of how vulnerable she must be feeling that she needed this extra reassurance. Arriving at the door to the centre, I pressed the security buzzer and the door clicked open. Inside, I said hello to the receptionist, who was seated behind the open sliding-glass window of the office. She knew me a little from my previous visits to the centre with other children I’d fostered.

      ‘This is Lucy,’ I said. ‘She’s seeing her mother, Bonnie, at three o’clock.’

      The СКАЧАТЬ