Название: Will You Love Me?: The story of my adopted daughter Lucy: Part 3 of 3
Автор: Cathy Glass
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Биографии и Мемуары
isbn: 9780007533206
isbn:
We were the only ones in the waiting area, but I assumed other children with different contact times were in the rooms with their parents. It was now one minute before three o’clock and I hoped Bonnie wouldn’t be late. One of the most upsetting things for a child in care is being kept waiting by a parent at contact, or worse, the parent not arriving at all. It’s stressful enough for the child to be separated from their family and then reunited briefly at contact, without being kept waiting or let down. For this reason, the contact rules are very firm: if a parent doesn’t phone to say they have been delayed, or if they don’t arrive within fifteen minutes of the scheduled time, then the contact is terminated and the foster carer takes the child home. Although this is upsetting for the child, it is less upsetting than if they are left waiting endlessly, only to be disappointed yet again.
I tried to interest Lucy in a book or a game of cards while we waited, but she preferred to just sit and wait. Upright on her chair and with her hands folded loosely in her lap, I thought I was more nervous than she appeared to be. She was dressed smartly in new summer clothes I’d bought for her, and her hair was shining and tied in a loose plait. I always make sure the child or children I foster look nice when they see their parents. It reassures the parents that their child is being well looked after, and also gives the meeting a sense of occasion – which it is, a very special occasion.
At 3.05 we heard the security buzzer sound, followed by the outer door clicking open. Then we heard the receptionist say to the person who’d just arrived: ‘They’re here.’ So I thought she must be referring to us, as we were the only ones in the waiting area.
I felt my heart start to race at little, but Lucy remained outwardly calm. We heard footsteps coming along the corridor, and then two women appeared from around the corner; one I recognized as a contact supervisor, and the other I assumed to be Bonnie. She looked at Lucy and smiled.
I stood, so too did Lucy. ‘Hello,’ Bonnie said to her daughter. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m well, thank you,’ Lucy said politely. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good, thanks.’
Formal and distant, they made no move to hug or kiss each other, which fell far short of the emotional scene I’d envisaged. There was silence, so I stepped forward and offered Bonnie my hand for shaking. ‘I’m Cathy,’ I said, ‘Lucy’s foster carer.’
Bonnie didn’t shake my hand, but gave a small nervous laugh. ‘Nice to meet you, Cathy. I hope Lucy hasn’t been giving you any trouble.’
‘Not at all,’ I smiled. ‘She’s an absolute treasure and a delight to look after.’ But my enthusiasm seemed strangely out of place in this emotional void, as Bonnie and Lucy continued to look at each other from a distance, not embarrassed, but just not connecting; more like distant acquaintances than mother and daughter.
‘Shall we go into the contact room now?’ the supervisor suggested, then turning to me she said, ‘You and Bonnie could have a chat later when you come to collect Lucy.’
‘Yes, that’s fine with me,’ I said.
The three of them turned and the supervisor led the way down the corridor towards the contact rooms. Before they disappeared through the double doors I heard Bonnie ask Lucy: ‘So, what have you been doing?’
‘Going to school and other things,’ Lucy replied flatly.
Outside, I left my car in the car park and crossed the road to the park to go for a walk. It was a lovely summer’s day and the play area was full of children running and shouting excitedly under their parents’ watchful gaze. I followed the path that ran around the perimeter of the park, under some trees and beside a small lake. I breathed in the beautiful scent of summer flowers, fresh from a recent watering by the gardeners. I knew from the original referral that Bonnie was thirty-six, but having met her she looked a lot older. There had been a suggestion in the referral that she’d been drink and drug dependent at various times in her life, and this could explain her premature ageing. I’d met parents of other children I’d fostered who’d looked old before their time from drug and alcohol abuse; many far worse than Bonnie. Some had been skeletally thin with missing teeth, a hacking cough and little or no hair. Apart from looking older than she should have done, Bonnie appeared well nourished and was smartly dressed in fashionable jeans and a T-shirt. I’d noticed that, while Lucy had inherited her father’s dark eyes and black hair, there was a strong family likeness between her and her mother. Although their initial meeting had been awkward, I assumed that as the hour passed and they got to know each other again they’d relax and feel more comfortable, so that when I arrived to collect Lucy they’d be laughing, chatting and playing games.
I completed the circuit of the park and stopped off at the cafeteria to buy a bottle of water, which I drank on the way back. It was exactly four o’clock when I arrived at the contact centre.
‘You can go through and collect Lucy,’ the receptionist said. ‘They’re in Blue Room.’ Sometimes the carer collects the child from the contact room and at other times the supervisor brings the child into reception once they’ve said goodbye to their parents in the room.
Each of the contact rooms was named after the colour it was decorated in. I went down the corridor, through the double doors and arrived outside Blue Room. I knocked on the door. Through the glass at the top of the door I could see the contact supervisor sitting at a table, writing. She looked up and waved for me to go in.
Inside, Lucy was sitting on the sofa next to her mother, close, but not touching. Usually at the end of contact the child is very excited – often over-excited – and has to be persuaded to pack away the games they’ve been playing and say goodbye to their parents. But there were no games out and apparently no excitement. The room was eerily quiet.
Bonnie and Lucy looked over at me as I entered, and I smiled.
‘It’s time for you to go,’ Bonnie said evenly to Lucy.
‘Yes,’ Lucy said, and stood.
‘Have you had a nice time?’ I asked.
Bonnie glanced at her daughter. ‘It was good to see her again,’ she said, in a tone devoid of emotion. Lucy looked sombre and subdued. Then Bonnie said to me: ‘Thank you for bringing Lucy. We might meet again some time.’
I hesitated, not sure what to make of this comment. I took a couple of steps further into the room. The supervisor was busy writing. If I was feeling confused, then surely Lucy was too?
‘I believe Lucy’s social worker is going to set up regular contact,’ I said to Bonnie. ‘She was talking about once a week.’
Bonnie gave another tense little laugh and looked slightly embarrassed. Then, glancing at her daughter, she said, ‘Oh, no, Lucy won’t be expecting that, will you? She knows what I’m like. I’m sure I’ll see her again some time, though.’
‘So you won’t be СКАЧАТЬ