by Cathy Glass
‘And remember,’ Dr Ciobanu continued, ‘you must not give the mother any money or gifts. It is illegal.’
‘Yes,’ Ian said. ‘We know.’
‘Once you are home you can send some photographs of Anastasia to show she is healthy and happy. I will give them to the mother.’ Again, they knew this from the literature Dr Ciobanu had sent them when they’d first contacted him about adopting. ‘Once the adoption is granted, I will apply for Anastasia’s passport, visa and new birth certificate as quickly as possible so you can confirm your return flight, but it may take a week.’
‘We understand,’ Ian said.
‘So now I fetch Anastasia for you.’ The doctor smiled.
‘Is her mother back in the country yet?’ Elaine asked.
‘No. Her flight is the day before the court hearing – the twenty-second. Don’t worry, she won’t forget.’
Elaine nodded, although she would rather have heard that she was already in the country, for if Anastasia’s mother didn’t return, the adoption would have to be postponed again.
‘The mother knows we can’t keep her child here at the orphanage any longer,’ Dr Ciobanu added. ‘So she will come. Any more questions?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Ian said.
‘You go to the playroom – you will see a difference – while I fetch Anastasia. Our new care worker is playing with her and trying to teach her some English.’ Elaine’s surprise showed on her face. ‘We have another worker funded by the government and some more toys,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘You saw the slide at the front? Things are gradually improving.’
‘That’s good,’ Elaine said.
Dr Ciobanu headed off to fetch Anastasia while Ian and Elaine went down the corridor towards the playroom. The orphanage was quiet, as it had been on their previous visits, and although the large old-style metal radiators were on, it wasn’t warm. Stepping into the playroom, they saw straight away what Dr Ciobanu had meant. The room had been painted and on one wall was a large, brightly coloured mural showing happy, smiling children playing outside in the warm summer sun.
‘Isn’t that lovely?’ Elaine said.
‘It certainly brightens up the room,’ Ian replied, going over for a closer look. He bent to read the signatures at the bottom. ‘Guess who painted it?’ Elaine shook her head. ‘Pam and Mel, the students.’
‘Wow, they certainly did a good job.’
Also in the room were a second beanbag and a toy box. Presently footsteps sounded in the corridor outside, and then the unmistakable voice of Anastasia. ‘Mummy and Daddy,’ she said evenly with a heavy accent. Elaine could have wept with joy. She appeared at the door wearing a thick grey woollen sweater rolled up at the wrists and jogging-style pants tucked into thick socks. ‘Mummy and Daddy,’ she said again, and looked at them.
Dr Ciobanu smiled, pleased. ‘You see, she learns English.’
‘Wonderful,’ Elaine cried, and went to her. ‘Hello, Anastasia. How are you, love?’
‘Say, “I am well, thank you,”’ Dr Ciobanu told her.
‘I am well, thank you,’ Anastasia repeated in cute broken English.
‘That’s very good,’ Elaine said, blinking back tears.
Satisfied, Dr Ciobanu ruffled Anastasia’s hair. ‘I’ll see you at court on Thursday then,’ and he left.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Ian called after him.
Elaine knelt so she was at Anastasia’s height. ‘You’ve grown. You’re a big girl.’ Anastasia stared at her. ‘We’ve come back for you just as we said.’ Elaine felt her eyes fill again.
‘We’re going to be your mummy and daddy,’ Ian said, joining them.
‘Mummy and Daddy,’ Anastasia repeated.
‘Yes, love, that’s right.’ Unable to resist the urge to hug her any longer, Elaine wrapped Anastasia in her arms and held her close, but she felt rigid, unresponsive, which Elaine assumed was because she wasn’t used to being held or cuddled. Not wanting her to feel uncomfortable, she kissed her forehead and let her go. ‘Let’s play with something in the toy box,’ Elaine suggested, nodding towards the beanbags and toy box.
Anastasia stared at Elaine, then tapped her forearm. ‘What is it, love?’ Elaine asked. ‘What do you want?’
Without language to explain, Anastasia tapped her arm again, this time more insistently, then looked at Ian.
‘I think she’s asking about the bag of toys we used to bring in with us,’ he said.
‘Oh, I see. We have brought new toys for you, but they are all packed in our cases in the car. We’ll bring some in tomorrow when we’ve had a chance to unpack.’
Not understanding but appreciating there was no bag of toys, Anastasia pulled on Elaine’s shoulder bag.
‘Phone,’ Ian said.
‘I know,’ she said, smiling, and took her mobile from her bag. ‘Come and sit on the beanbags and we’ll look at the photographs. We’ve got more photos of our house and your bedroom to show you.’
Ian joined them on the beanbags, he and Elaine sitting either side of Anastasia, as she scrolled through the photographs, while Elaine and Ian gave her a running commentary – bedroom, bed, garden and so on. Once Anastasia had exhausted Elaine’s photographs, she looked pointedly at Ian. He laughed and, taking his phone from his pocket, passed it to her. They were pleased Anastasia had remembered the bags of toys they’d brought in before and their phones; it showed there was nothing wrong with her memory. She seemed bright and alert. She didn’t try to repeat any of the words they said, except when they came to the photographs of themselves. ‘Mummy and Daddy,’ she said in her broken English.
‘Yes!’ Elaine cried, overjoyed.
‘I think Mummy and Daddy are the only words they’ve taught her,’ Ian said dryly. But it didn’t matter, not one little bit. Anastasia was intelligent and would quickly pick up English once they were home, and of course Mummy and Daddy were the words they most wanted to hear. That Anastasia spoke them in a flat voice, as though simply repeating something she’d been told, didn’t escape their notice. But she’d spent most of her life in the orphanage with only brief spells with her mother, a single parent, so had little experience of the love, warmth and nurturing that were normally associated with Mummy and Daddy. With time, she would come to know what these words really meant and her eyes would light up when she heard them. But for now Elaine and Ian were content and very happy that their long-awaited daughter sat between them saying ‘Mummy and Daddy’.
Once Anastasia had finished with the photographs on Ian’s phone, Elaine began going through the toy box. While the box was new, many of the toys it contained were old and broken. There was no sign of the toys they’d left for Anastasia. They hadn’t really expected to see them again, and she wasn’t wearing the clothes they’d left for her, but then they wouldn’t have been warm enough now anyway.
Anastasia quickly exhausted what the toy box had to offer and, scrambling up from the beanbag, went over to the mural on the wall.
‘It’s a lovely picture,’ Elaine said, joining her. Ian went too. ‘Sun,’ Elaine said, pointing to the big yellow sun.
‘Sun,’ Anastasia repeated.
‘Yes, good girl!’ Elaine was delighted. ‘Swing,’ she said.
‘Swing,’ Anastasia repeated, and Elaine and Ian clapped.
‘Ball,’ Ian said, pointing.
‘Ball.’ They clapped some more.
And so they went through all the images on the mural, with Anastasia repeating the words. They clapped after each one. When they came to the end they began again, but Anastasia had had enough – she was, after all, only two years and seven months old. With a quick glance around the room, she realized there was nothing else of interest and ran to the door.
‘No. Not out there,’ Ian called. But it was too late. She was that bit taller, stronger and possibly more strong-willed than before and easily opened the door and ran out. They quickly went after her in time to see her disappear into one of the nursery rooms further up. A care worker shouted at her fr
om inside. They didn’t know what she said, but it was obvious Anastasia shouldn’t have been in there. She ran out, along the corridor and into the next room.
Elaine and Ian went in but she was nowhere to be seen. A dozen cots ran in rows with little room in between. They’d been in this room before on their very first visit when they’d arrived to be told that Lana was dead and the care worker had shown them other children they could adopt. What they saw now was no less disturbing and upsetting. Here lay some of the most disabled children, confined to cots and still without any stimulation, just staring into space, and thumb-sucking or rocking for comfort. The only improvement in the room seemed to be a single mobile hanging from the ceiling in one corner but visible to only a few infants in the cots beneath it.
‘She must be in here somewhere,’ Ian said quietly. ‘There’s no other way out.’
‘Anastasia,’ Elaine said, and bent down to look under the cots. ‘There you are.’ She was hiding under the cot furthest away, curled up and grinning. ‘Come out of there.’ Anastasia grinned some more.
Elaine made her way between the cots to where Anastasia was hiding and, getting onto her hands and knees, reached under the cot. ‘Come on out. I’m sure you’re not supposed to be here. You’ll get into trouble.’ The smell of urine was worse under the cots, and the floor needed a good scrub.
Anastasia finally came out and she and Elaine went to where Ian was waiting by the door. Anastasia seemed oblivious to the suffering of the children around them, probably because she saw them every day, but for Elaine and Ian it was a brutal reminder of the life these poor children had – existing rather than enjoying any quality of life. Like many couples who had adopted from this country, they made regular donations to charities set up to improve conditions in the orphanages, but change was painfully slow.
They returned to the playroom but Anastasia was restless and wouldn’t settle to much for very long. Aware that this was their first meeting after a gap of three months and they had yet to check into their hotel and unpack, they stayed for just over an hour and then told Anastasia they would come tomorrow with toys, and went to find a care worker to see them out. The care worker was new, a bit more personable than the others, and willing to speak English. ‘You come from England?’ she asked as she opened the main door.
‘Yes. This morning.’
‘Anastasia is a very lucky girl to have a nice mummy and daddy,’ she said.
‘We’re the lucky ones,’ Elaine said, and Ian agreed.
She remained by the gate with Anastasia and encouraged her to wave goodbye as Ian and Elaine got into the cab.
‘Goodbye, see you tomorrow,’ Elaine called from her window.
‘Yes, see you tomorrow,’ the care worker replied.
‘So, everything is good?’ Danny asked, starting the engine.
‘Yes, very good indeed,’ Ian confirmed.
Chapter Nine
Court Hearing
Ian and Elaine knew they’d made the right decision arriving a few days before the court hearing so they could spend time with Anastasia. Maggie had said she thought it was a good idea too. Although Anastasia clearly remembered them, there was a distance about her, a coolness towards them, which didn’t immediately go over the following days and was probably a defence mechanism. They assumed it was the result of three months without seeing them, with little stimulation or interaction. Of course she was bound to feel rejected and cautious about showing affection in case she was abandoned again. It was only natural and to be expected, and they consoled themselves that once home any emotional damage she may have suffered would be quickly undone by their love, care and commitment. The new care worker was far more pleasant and approachable than the others had been and they asked her to take some photographs of Anastasia and them together.
Elaine and Ian were staying in the same hotel as before but hadn’t seen Maria – the waitress they’d got to know – so after a couple of days they asked the new waitress where she was. ‘Maria? Is she here?’ Ian said.
‘No. She leave.’
‘Oh, where has she gone?’ Elaine asked.
‘To England to work. More money.’
Elaine nodded. Maria had told them that had been her plan. ‘Did she take Lana with her?’ Elaine asked.
‘No. She stay with her mother.’
Although it was sad that Maria had to be parted from her daughter and would probably only be able to afford the fare home to see her once a year, it was common practice in this country. Wage earners went abroad to work where the wages were higher and then sent money home to the relative looking after their child.
‘Do you know where she is living in England?’ Elaine asked, thinking they might contact her.
‘No. London, I think.’ So it was unlikely they could trace her.
The days between their arrival and the court date flew by, with shopping in the morning and the afternoons spent at the orphanage with Anastasia. On the eve of the court hearing, having not seen or heard from Dr Ciobanu since the day they’d arrived, Ian and Elaine felt they would like to speak to him and have confirmation that Anastasia’s mother had returned. They didn’t want to antagonize him by suggesting they doubted his word, but it would be devastating if they arrived at court to find she wasn’t there. After some deliberation, Ian telephoned Dr Ciobanu’s mobile – he wouldn’t be at the orphanage this late – and he answered with a rather curt ‘Ciobanu’.
‘Dr Ciobanu, Ian Hudson.’
‘Yes, what can I do for you?’
‘I’m sorry to disturb you but we just wanted to confirm that Anastasia’s mother has returned ready for court tomorrow.’
‘Yes, of course. Why shouldn’t she?’
‘No reason. Thank you. Sorry to trouble you.’ Ian said a quick goodbye.
As they’d thought, Dr Ciobanu hadn’t liked having his judgement questioned, but at least they had the reassurance they needed. Or did they? His response – ‘Yes, of course. Why shouldn’t she?’ – almost sounded as though he hadn’t checked, so Elaine and Ian weren’t completely at ease. However, there was nothing further they could do but hope the doctor was right.
Good luck 4 tomorrow, Maggie texted as they were about to go to bed. We’re all thinking of you!
Thank you! Elaine replied.
They didn’t get much sleep that night and passed much of it by watching television programmes in a foreign language. Elaine kept getting out of bed to check that everything she needed for Anastasia was in the holdall they were taking to court: her coat, gloves, boots, drink and so forth.
They rose early and were the first down to breakfast, although neither of them had an appetite. Ian had fallen silent and kept checking his phone, while Elaine periodically raised the questions buzzing anxiously around her head: ‘How long do you think the court hearing will last?’ ‘Will Anastasia’s mother leave straight after?’ ‘Will she have someone with her for support?’ ‘Will she let us take a photograph of her?’ And so on. They had photographs of the orphanage and their hotel room to include in Anastasia’s Life Story Book, but they knew they wouldn’t be allowed to take photographs inside the court, and Dr Ciobanu had made it clear that the mother had to be asked before one was taken of her. Elaine and Ian knew that some couples had photographs of their child’s birth mother but others did not.
Once they finished breakfast, they returned to their hotel room to change into the suits they’d brought with them especially for their court appearance. With coats on over their suits, their passports in Ian’s briefcase, Anastasia’s belongings in a holdall and their anxiety rising, they went down to the lobby to wait for the cab they’d booked for 9.45. They’d used the same firm, as Dr Ciobanu had advised, but were disappointed when they saw a cab driver they didn’t know come in and ask at reception for Mr and Mrs Hudson. It would have been comforting to see Danny’s familiar face on such a momentous and nerve-racking day, and Danny had become part of their adoption journey. They even had a photograph of him standing by his ca
b to include in Anastasia’s Life Story Book.
‘No Danny?’ Ian asked the driver once they were in the cab and on their way.
‘He have day off. Visit his mother.’
‘OK.’
‘I take you to court building.’
‘Yes, please.’
It was a twenty-minute journey to the court and Elaine and Ian passed the time by gazing out of their side windows at the unfamiliar streets. They hadn’t ventured in this direction before. Houses gave way to a dual carriageway and then they were in the old part of the neighbouring town. The driver didn’t try to make conversation – his English wasn’t as good as Danny’s – and he listened to the radio. When he parked outside a very old, grey stone building it took them a moment to realize it was the court house. It was tucked in one corner of a square of similar-aged buildings around a cobbled square that looked unchanged from a century or more ago.
‘I wait here,’ the driver said, and they got out.
‘I’ll need to use the bathroom,’ Elaine said quietly to Ian as she followed him up the worn stone steps that led to the court house. A heavy wooden door with large wrought-iron hinges and a ring handle stood slightly ajar and Ian heaved it open. They entered a lobby with stone flagged flooring where a man – a court official – sat at a table with a printed sheet and a pen.
‘Good morning. Mr and Mrs Hudson,’ Ian said.
He ran his pen down the ten or so names on the list and ticked off their names, then gesticulated for them to put their bags onto the table. Giving the bags a perfunctory search, he waved Elaine and Ian through the door behind him. ‘Waiting room – third door on your right,’ he said.
‘Thank you. Where is the ladies’ bathroom?’ Elaine asked.
