Will You Love Me?: The story of my adopted daughter Lucy: Part 1 of 3. Cathy Glass

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СКАЧАТЬ legs onto the sofa, kicked off the packet of nappies to make space and then curled into a foetal position on her side, resting her head on the pile of clothes, and fell asleep.

      She came to with a start. Lucy was crying, and through the ill-fitting ragged curtains Bonnie could see the sky was beginning to lighten. ‘Shit!’ she said out loud, sitting bolt upright. ‘What time is it?’ Groping in her bag she took out her phone. Jesus! It was 7.00 a.m. The heat of the room must have lulled her into a deep sleep; Ivan would be here in an hour, possibly sooner!

      With her heart racing and leaving Lucy crying in the Moses basket, Bonnie grabbed the empty feeding bottle from where she’d left it on the floor and tore through to the kitchen. She filled the kettle and then rinsed out the bottle under the ‘hot’ water tap. While the kettle boiled she returned to the living room and, ignoring Lucy’s cries, changed her nappy. It was badly soiled again; she would find a chemist as soon as she could. Returning Lucy to the Moses basket, Bonnie flew into the kitchen, poured the last of the milk into Lucy’s bottle and topped it up with boiling water. Back in the living room she put the teat into Lucy’s mouth and then propped the bottle against the side of the basket so Lucy could feed while she packed.

      Opening the canvas bag, Bonnie began stuffing in their clothes and then the nappies and towel. She put on her hoody and zipped it up; she didn’t own a coat or warmer jacket. Bonnie then ran into the bathroom, quickly used the toilet, washed her hands in the lukewarm water and, taking her toothbrush and the roll of toilet paper, returned to the living room and stuffed those into the holdall. Bonnie didn’t have any toiletries or cosmetics; they were too expensive and she never risked stealing non-essential items; she could live without soap and make-up.

      In the kitchen Bonnie collected together the little food she had left – half a packet of biscuits, two yoghurts and a tub of cheese spread. She remembered to take a teaspoon from the drawer so she could eat the yoghurts, and then returning to the living room she put them all in the holdall. The bag was full now so she zipped it shut. She’d packed most of their belongings; all that remained were Lucy’s soiled clothes and they would have to stay. There wasn’t room for them and they would smell.

      Bonnie checked the time again. It was now 7.15. Her heart quickened. She’d have to be careful as she left the area and keep a watchful lookout for Ivan. He arrived by car each morning, but from which direction she didn’t know. With a final glance around the dismal living room and with mixed feelings about leaving – at least the place had provided a roof over their heads and a wage – Bonnie threw her bag over her shoulder and then picked up the Moses basket. She felt a stab of pain in her back from where Vince had pushed her into the washing machine.

      Opening the door that led from the flat to the staircase, Bonnie switched on the timed light and then manoeuvred the Moses basket out and closed the door behind her. She began carefully down the stairs, her stomach cramping with fear. The only way out was through the launderette and if for any reason Ivan arrived early, as he had done a couple of times before, there’d be no escape. The back door was boarded shut to keep the yobs out. Halfway down the stairs the light went out and Bonnie gingerly made her way down the last few steps, tightly clutching the Moses basket and steadying herself on the wall with her elbow. At the foot of the stairs she pressed the light switch and saw the door to the launderette. Opening it, she went through and then closed it behind her. With none of the machines working the shop was eerily still and cold. She began across the shop with her eyes trained on the door to the street looking for any sign of Ivan; her heart beat wildly in her chest. With one final glance through the shop window, she opened the door. The bell clanged and, leaving the sign showing ‘Closed’, she let herself out.

Chapter Three

       Concerned

      The cruel northeasterly wind bit through Bonnie’s jeans and zip-up top as she headed for town, about a mile away. She had no clear plan of what she should do, but she knew enough about being on the streets and sleeping rough to know there would be a McDonald’s in the high street open from 6.00 a.m.; some even stayed open all night. It would be warm in there and as long as you bought something to eat or drink – it didn’t matter how small – and sat unobtrusively in a corner, the staff usually let you stay there indefinitely. That was how she’d met Jameel last year, she remembered, sitting in a McDonald’s. He’d sat at the next table and had begun talking. When he’d found out she was sleeping rough, he’d taken her back to the squat he shared with eight others – men and women in their late teens and early twenties, many of whom had been in the care system. One of the girls had had a four-year-old child with her, and at the time Bonnie had thought it was wrong that the kid should be forced to live like that and felt it would have been better off in foster care or being adopted, but now she had a baby of her own it was different; she’d do anything to keep her child. Bonnie had lived at the squat for two months and had only left when Vince had reappeared in her life. Bad move, Bonnie thought resentfully, as she continued towards the town with Lucy awake and gazing up at her.

      ‘You all right, love?’ a male voice boomed suddenly from somewhere close by.

      Bonnie started, stopped walking and turned to look. A police car had drawn into the kerb and the male officer in the driver’s seat was looking at her through his lowered window, waiting for a reply.

      ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said, immediately uneasy.

      ‘Bit early to be out with a little one in this cold,’ he said, glancing at the Moses basket she held in front of her.

      Bonnie felt a familiar stab of anxiety at being stopped by the police. ‘I’m going on holiday,’ she said, trying to keep her voice even and raising a small smile. She could see from his expression that he doubted this, which was understandable. It was the middle of winter and she didn’t exactly look like a jet-setter off to seek the sun. ‘To my aunt’s,’ she added. ‘Just for a short break while my husband’s away.’

      The lie was so ludicrous that Bonnie was sure he’d know. Through the open window she could see the trousered legs of a WPC sitting in the passenger seat.

      ‘Where does your aunt live?’ the officer driving asked.

      ‘On the other side of town,’ Bonnie said without hesitation. ‘Not too far.’

      The WPC ducked her head down so she, too, could see Bonnie through the driver’s window. ‘How old is the baby?’ she asked.

      ‘Six months,’ Bonnie said.

      ‘And she’s yours?’

      ‘Yes. Don’t worry, she won’t be out in the cold long. I’ll get a bus as soon as one comes along.’

      Bonnie saw the driver’s hand go to the ignition keys. This was a bad sign. She knew from experience that if he switched off the engine it meant they would ask her more questions and possibly run a check through the car’s computer. When that had happened before she hadn’t had Lucy, so she’d legged it and run like hell. But that wasn’t an option now. It would be impossible to outrun the police with the holdall and Lucy in the Moses basket.

      ‘Where does your aunt live?’ the WPC asked, as the driver cut the engine.

      Shit! Bonnie thought. ‘On the Birdwater Estate,’ she said. She didn’t know anyone on the estate, only that it existed from seeing the name in the destination window on the front of buses.

      Suddenly their attention was diverted to the car’s radio. A message was coming through: ‘Immediate support requested for an RTA’ – a multi-vehicle accident on the motorway. Bonnie СКАЧАТЬ