by Cathy Glass
Sorry to hear about the delay, Ian. A disappointment but I’ve heard of other cases. You can’t do anything so fly home as Dr C said. We can chat when you get back. I am sure the adoption will go through. Don’t lose heart. You’ll have the rest of your lives with your child. M x
Which was exactly the message of hope Ian needed. He returned to their hotel room, and when Elaine woke he showed her the message and she, too, took comfort from it.
Nevertheless, it was with heavy hearts that they confirmed their flight home and then made the most of their last few days with Anastasia, but spending time with her now was bittersweet. While they wanted to make the most of every minute, they were acutely aware they wouldn’t be seeing her for three long months and would miss her dreadfully. They tried to talk to her about what was going to happen and told her they loved her, but it was doubtful she understood. It was impossible to know what she was thinking or feeling, and if Dr Ciobanu had said anything to her to explain, it wasn’t obvious from her behaviour.
On their penultimate day they bumped into Mel and Pam, who were working the night shift, and Elaine told them they were having to return home as their court date had been postponed for three months. The girls were very sympathetic and said they would keep an eye on Anastasia while they were here. But of course they were due to return home a week later and after that Ian and Elaine assumed the children would be left in the care of the two workers again. It was very worrying. They felt protective of Anastasia and wanted to keep her safe.
On the last day they took all the toys and clothes they’d brought for her that hadn’t gone missing into the orphanage and left them in carrier bags marked with her name in Dr Ciobanu’s office. Hopefully, at least some of them would be used by her. Then they had to say goodbye and it was heartbreaking. Anastasia walked between them down the path holding a hand each and the care worker unlocked the gate. As they bent to Anastasia’s height they tried to hide their emotion, but their pain must have been obvious.
‘Goodbye for now, love, don’t forget us,’ Elaine said, her eyes immediately filling. ‘We won’t forget you. We’ll put your photograph in our living room so you are with us all the time. We love you so much.’ She kissed Anastasia’s cheek and straightened. She couldn’t take much more.
Ian kissed Anastasia but couldn’t say anything.
They left her at the gate with the care worker and climbed into the cab. Danny knew this was their last visit for three months and didn’t immediately pull away. They both looked out of the side window. Usually, as soon as the care worker had locked the gate they returned inside, but now Anastasia clung to the wire netting, pressing her face against it and looking at them. It was one of the few occasions she made eye contact and it was pitiful. Elaine and Ian saw the pain and rejection in her eyes. She might not have been able to tell them in words what she was feeling, but her eyes said it all. Her mother had left her and now they were leaving too.
‘We’ll be back soon,’ Elaine said through the window. But the image on Anastasia’s little face imploring them not to go would haunt them in the months to come.
It was Danny who took them to the airport the next day and he seemed to appreciate that they didn’t want to talk much. He had the radio on low, tuned to a local station, and wasn’t his usual chatty self, only occasionally making a remark – about the weather or traffic. As they neared the airport he said, ‘I’m sorry you have to go home without your child.’
‘It’s not your fault, Danny,’ Ian said.
‘But I have got to know you during our trips to the orphanage so I am sorry. Perhaps if I have time I can visit Anastasia and tell her you will be back soon.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Ian said. Elaine kept quiet, struggling to hold back fresh tears.
At the airport Danny parked in the passenger drop-off area and took their cases from the boot. ‘I see you here in three months’ time,’ he said more cheerfully. ‘When you book the cab ask for Danny and I come to meet you.’
‘We will. Thank you for everything,’ Ian said, and they shook hands warmly. They felt they had at least one friend in the country who understood.
Elaine and Ian were emotionally exhausted from all they’d been through and slept for most of the flight, even though it was daytime. In England they had to take a train from the airport to their home town and then a cab to their house. It was late evening when they arrived at their modest three-bedroom house, but its neatly tended front garden seemed very bright and upmarket after the drabness of the orphanage. Their neighbour had been cutting their lawn, watering the plants and generally keeping an eye on the place while they’d been away. They’d messaged her with the date they’d be back, adding that the adoption had been postponed. They’d see her tomorrow to thank her and give her the gift they’d bought, but for now they just wanted to get inside.
As they set their cases down in the hall the comfortable, welcoming familiarity they usually felt on returning home was now tainted with the knowledge that they should have been returning as a family. Upstairs was the nursery, decorated and ready with a cot, changing station and first-year clothes and toys, all of which would need sorting out at some point, and the room would remain empty for now. They’d also have to telephone their friends and family and explain what was happening, as they’d told them only the minimum while they’d been away.
Elaine made them a cup of tea using the milk their neighbour had put in the fridge while Ian took their cases up to their room. Then, to try to relax ready for bed, they put the television on so they didn’t have to talk and have yet another worrying conversation about Anastasia. They’d said it all. Ian was planning to return to work the following day, when he would talk to his boss about the two weeks’ leave he’d need in November. He wasn’t looking forward to the well-meant questions and comments from his boss and colleagues who knew the reason he’d been away but not the result. Elaine wasn’t sure what she was going to do for the next three months, but thought she should find some temporary work. It would help pay the bills and would also stop her from sitting at home worrying. They opened their mail, of which there was a lot. It included an adoption congratulations card from Ian’s brother and family – sent early and assuming all would go to plan. Ian said he’d phone him and deal with the mail tomorrow.
Over the next week, as Ian submerged himself in his work, Elaine grew more and more down. She telephoned her sister and told her what had happened, but didn’t contact any of her friends or log into the online support group for international adoption. Her thoughts were permanently with Anastasia and the image of her little face at the gate as they’d said goodbye. What was the poor child thinking and feeling now? How was she coping? Had Dr Ciobanu and the care workers reassured her they would be back? Elaine doubted it – not in any depth, they were all too busy. Anastasia was one of many children, most of whom had multiple needs.
Elaine kept returning to the nursery even though it made her cry. She couldn’t face sorting out Lana’s possessions. She just sat on the pink velvet child’s chair and looked around as her thoughts grew increasingly gloomy and morose. Not usually one to suffer from depression, she now found herself sliding down a long, dark tunnel with no way out and no light at the end. The walls closed in and she tormented herself with speculation that when they returned for Anastasia they would be told that she, too, was dead. The thought plagued her during the day and kept her awake at night, while Ian, tired from work, slept soundly beside her.
At the end of the second week, while Ian was at work, Elaine telephoned the orphanage and the phone was answered after many rings by a care worker.
‘Is Dr Ciobanu there?’ she asked, her voice faltering.
‘He not here,’ came the heavily accented reply.
‘This is Mrs Hudson. Is Anastasia well?’ She hoped the care worker understood enough to be able to reassure her.
‘Yes. She’s well. I tell Dr Ciobanu you phone.’
‘Thank you. Will you tell Anastasia I phoned
too?’
‘Yes. I tell her. Goodbye.’
So at least Anastasia was alive.
Two days later Dr Ciobanu emailed to say Anastasia was doing well and looking forward to seeing them again, although Elaine doubted she had expressly said she was looking forward to seeing them again. She couldn’t picture it and thought it was Dr Ciobanu again telling them what they wanted to hear, and it didn’t really help. Ian, whose life had returned to some normality with work, was worried about Elaine, but also losing patience with her growing gloom and despondency. He suggested she made an appointment to see their doctor, or at least have a chat with Maggie, the founder of the support group for international adoption who Ian had messaged while away. Elaine did neither until the following week, after she and Ian had a blazing argument.
‘You’ve got to snap out of it!’ Ian cried, tired at the end of the day. ‘Anastasia is going to need a lot of care when we bring her back and you’re in no fit state to help her. Get yourself sorted out now or we won’t be going back!’ He stormed out of the room and went upstairs.
He apologized later and said he hadn’t meant the threat of not going back – he was as attached to Anastasia as Elaine was. But it was the wake-up call Elaine needed. She telephoned Maggie and cried as she confessed all her worries and told her in detail what they’d been through. They were on the phone for over an hour and Maggie was able to reassure her so that when they finished Elaine felt far more positive. Taking Maggie’s advice, she sorted out the nursery, bagging up what they didn’t need and making a list of what she had to buy for Anastasia. It would be winter when they went back so she’d need warm clothes. While Elaine was in town she registered with an employment agency that specialized in temporary work and by the next morning had a position in a local firm to cover staff sickness. It gave her a new focus, and although she still thought of Anastasia and missed her, she was in the real word again and far more positive. What started off as one week’s work stretched to five, so that by the time the contract ended there were only three weeks before they had to fly out for the adoption.
Dr Ciobanu emailed confirming all would be going ahead for 11 a.m. on 23 November and they should arrive in the country no later than twenty-four hours before. He added that Anastasia was looking forward to seeing them and he hoped they were both well. Ian emailed back saying they’d arrive on 18 November so they could spend time with Anastasia in the days before the hearing. Then he booked the flight tickets: two seats confirmed going out and three reserved coming back. Aged two and a half, Anastasia would need a seat of her own, but they couldn’t confirm it until they had her passport number after the court hearing. They were very excited but also anxious that all would go to plan.
Chapter Eight
Return
It was a clear but cold day, 3°C, the captain said over the public address system as the plane began its descent, ready for landing. Ian took Elaine’s hand and smiled. ‘Not long to go now.’ Their excitement had grown during the flight, but so had their apprehension. Once they saw Anastasia and Dr Ciobanu and knew all was well, they would feel more reassured, but for now they held hands and drew strength from each other as they looked through the window and the land below gradually rose up to greet them.
When they’d booked the cab they’d asked specifically for Danny to collect them, but it was nearly an hour before their cases arrived in the baggage hall. ‘I hope Danny has waited,’ Elaine said nervously, imagining something else that could go wrong.
‘If not there’ll be plenty of cabs waiting outside the airport,’ Ian reassured her.
But as they emerged through the arrivals door, pulling their cases and with bags over their shoulders, they saw Danny straight away. He was directly in front of them, holding up a large piece of cardboard with Hudson written in black marker pen. He spotted them and began waving frantically. Relieved, they quickened their pace. ‘Good to see you,’ he said, greeting them with the warmth of an old friend or relative.
‘And you,’ Ian said, shaking his hand.
‘So the time has come for you to return and you are happy!’ he said, taking their cases.
‘Yes, indeed,’ Elaine replied, and they began towards the car park. ‘How is Anastasia?’ she asked. ‘Did you have a chance to visit her?’
‘I am sorry, I didn’t have time. I have been very busy. But I took another couple to the orphanage and they saw her.’
‘Really? Did they say how she was? What was she doing?’
‘She is well. She was talking to the children in the cots.’
Elaine smiled, pleased and partly reassured. ‘That sounds like her.’
Danny loaded their bags and cases into the boot of his cab and Elaine and Ian climbed into the back. He was then silent as he concentrated on navigating out of the busy airport car park, but once on the road he said, ‘Dr Ciobanu told me you can go straight to see Anastasia if you wish. That good?’
‘What, now?’ Elaine asked.
‘If you want to, then I take you to your hotel after.’
‘Oh yes, please, that would be fantastic. We’ve missed her so much.’
‘Thank you,’ Ian said.
‘The couple you took to the orphanage, are they adopting too?’ Elaine asked out of interest.
‘Yes, two boys, with disabilities,’ Danny replied. ‘The children are very lucky. They no longer have to live in cots.’
Immediately Elaine’s eyes filled, for that was the truth of life in the orphanage for children with disabilities – they did live in cots.
Danny continued chatting as he drove and asked them about the weather in the UK, which although cold wasn’t as cold as it was there now in November. Ian then asked him about his own family and how his children were.
‘They are well, thank you,’ he said. ‘My daughter is studying hard at school but my son messes around sometimes and gets into trouble. I tell him off, and told him he needs to study hard and do well or he will end up driving a cab like me for a living.’
‘He could do a lot worse,’ Ian said. ‘Cab drivers are always needed.’
‘But I want him to use his brain, earn good money and be respected.’ Which of course is what most parents want for their children, wherever they live in the world.
Half an hour later they turned into the lane that led to the orphanage. The trees were now bare in winter and the cold outside could be felt even in the heated cab. ‘I hope the children are warm enough,’ Elaine said.
‘They have heating sometimes,’ Danny replied, ‘and wear woollens.’
He drew up outside the orphanage, parking in virtually the same spot he had on all their previous visits. Elaine’s heart missed a beat as she looked at the decaying building, even more desolate now that the surrounding trees were barren. But one positive was that a children’s slide had appeared in the strip of land at the front. ‘That slide is new,’ she said.
‘Yes, it was donated two weeks ago,’ Danny said. ‘It was cemented into the ground so it can’t be taken away.’
‘Good,’ Elaine said. Although of course it would only benefit the children if the care workers had enough time to help them play on it, which from what they’d seen before was highly doubtful.
‘I wait here like before,’ Danny confirmed as they opened their car doors.
‘Yes, please,’ Ian said.
They got out and went to the tall metal gate. As before the only way of attracting attention was to rattle it. Danny also gave a blast on the cab’s horn. ‘Not much has changed then,’ Ian said.
‘But that slide is nice,’ Elaine said, wanting to stay positive.
A few moments later Dr Ciobanu appeared at the orphanage door and with a wave came down the path. ‘Hello Mr and Mrs Hudson. Good to see you again.’
‘And you,’ Ian said.
He unlocked the gate, waved an acknowledgement to Danny and then shook Ian’s and Elaine’s hands and relocked the gate behind them. ‘So three months wasn’t so long and passed quickly,’ he said as th
ey went up the path.
‘It was long enough,’ Elaine said.
‘Some families have to wait much longer,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘The flight was comfortable?’
‘Yes.’
Inside, Dr Ciobanu didn’t show them into his office but stopped in the lobby, which was exactly as it had been on their last visit. ‘There are no more forms for you to sign until after the court hearing,’ he said. ‘You have the time and date of the hearing in your diary?’
‘Yes,’ Ian said. ‘And seared in our minds. Eleven o’clock on 23 November.’
Dr Ciobanu nodded. ‘You need to book a cab to take you to the court and back to your hotel afterwards when you will have Anastasia with you. Arrive by 10.30. Use the same cab firm. They know where the court is and will wait for you.’ Ian and Elaine nodded. ‘Take your passports with you to court. Sometimes the judge wants to see them. Take a warm coat for the child. If you haven’t brought one with you then you must buy one here.’
‘We have one,’ Elaine confirmed, ‘and boots, gloves and a warm hat for her.’
‘That is because you have come from the UK,’ Dr Ciobanu said with a smile. ‘Some families fly in from warmer countries and forget it is cold here. Also bring a drink for the child. She will have been waiting around for some time. Although the court hearing time is set for eleven o’clock, things in this country don’t always happen on time.’ They nodded again. ‘And prepare yourselves for meeting the child’s mother. You don’t need to talk to her but the waiting room is small so she will be seated close by.’ They’d already been warned this could happen, but even so Elaine felt her heart clench. She knew she was going to have to be very brave when she met Anastasia’s mother, especially when the time came for her to say goodbye to her child.
