A Long Way From Home

by Cathy Glass

  Elaine tried persuading and coercing her, then tugged gently on her arm, but Anastasia stood her ground. Passers-by glanced at them. ‘You’ll have to pick her up and carry her,’ Elaine said to Ian at last, trying again to move her forward. Anastasia resisted.

  ‘OK, I’ll give you a carry,’ Ian said, and scooped her up. Anastasia opened her mouth and screamed for all she was worth. He quickly put her down again.

  ‘You walk then,’ Elaine said anxiously, starting to panic. ‘Come on. We can’t stay here.’

  Anastasia stared at her but didn’t move. Elaine tried again to persuade her, so did Ian, but the child’s expression was set. It was clear she wasn’t going anywhere of her own accord.

  ‘You’ll have to carry her,’ Elaine said again in desperation.

  Ian picked her up. Anastasia screamed but he continued into the hotel with Elaine following close behind. Reception was still busy but whereas before, on their way out, it had been an asset, now it was every parent’s nightmare. Guests and staff turned to see where the noise was coming from, some with condemnatory expressions, wondering what the problem was, and why the parents couldn’t control their child. Keeping their eyes averted, Elaine and Ian hurried across the lobby to the lift, which mercifully was waiting and empty. Stepping in, Elaine quickly pressed the button for their floor and the doors closed. Accepting defeat, Anastasia stopped screaming and struggled to be put down. A bit flushed but otherwise unfazed, she continued sucking her lollipop.

  ‘First battle won,’ Ian said perkily, but Elaine wasn’t so sure.

  Her confidence had taken a big hit. Not only had she no idea what had provoked Anastasia’s tantrum, but she didn’t know how they should have handled it. Supposing she did it again when they couldn’t just pick her up and run to their hotel room? What would she do then? She suddenly felt great empathy for those parents she’d seen in the street or supermarket who gave in to their screaming toddler’s demands. If held to ransom by her child in a public place, she was in no doubt she’d do the same.

  Once in their hotel room, energized from the two-hour sleep that afternoon, Anastasia ran around opening drawers, pulling on cupboard doors, rummaging in their cases and generally exploring everything in sight. Although it was only natural for a child to be inquisitive, it was wearing. Elaine followed her around, returning items to their correct places and making sure she didn’t do any damage or hurt herself. She picked up the discarded lollipop stick that Anastasia threw on the floor and put it in the waste-paper basket. A few times Anastasia babbled something in her own language, perhaps about the object she was investigating. Elaine told her the word in English but Anastasia didn’t repeat it. When she ran into the bathroom Elaine followed her and had to stop her from repeatedly flushing the toilet and turning on the taps, which fascinated her. She tried to climb into the bath.

  ‘You can have another bath tomorrow,’ Elaine said. ‘I’ll wash your hair too.’

  Not understanding, and preferring to have her own way, Anastasia kept trying to climb over the side of the bath and eventually slipped and bumped her head. Not a bad knock but enough to make her cry out, mutter something – that could have been a curse – and give the bath a good kick.

  ‘Shall I make up that Pot Noodle or whatever it is?’ Ian called from the bedroom. ‘She may be hungry now.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ Elaine returned. The instructions on the side of the pot were diagrammatic, and simply involved pouring boiling water onto the contents of the pot and letting it stand for two minutes to hydrate. There was a kettle in the room for making tea and coffee.

  Having heard Ian’s voice, and sensing something was going on that needed her attention, Anastasia ran from the bathroom. Elaine then had to keep her away from the boiling kettle, which she wanted to touch. As they waited for the mixture to hydrate and then cool a little, Ian looked up the main ingredients listed on the pot in their phrase book. ‘Mutton,’ he translated. ‘Flour, noodles, cabbage, onion, pepper …’ and so on.

  Once the food was ready, Ian tested it. ‘Interesting,’ he said, unsure.

  Anastasia was also interested in what was in the pot as the aroma rose and spread around the room. Elaine guided her to the chair, spread a tissue on her lap and gave her the pot and spoon, but stayed close by to help her or mop up the mess. Anastasia peered in, stirred the mixture, jiggled the spoon up and down but didn’t eat. ‘Hmm, yummy. Eat it,’ Elaine encouraged, smacking her lips.

  Anastasia played with the food some more but didn’t try to eat it. ‘You must be hungry by now,’ Elaine said. ‘You’ve had nothing all day.’ Taking the spoon, she ate a little herself in the hope Anastasia would copy, but she just pushed the pot away. Elaine tried again without success. It appeared that when Anastasia set her mind to something she was resolute.

  ‘Perhaps we could try room service again?’ Ian suggested when it was clear Anastasia wasn’t going to eat the food in the pot. ‘We’ll have to order for us before long.’

  ‘But what?’ Elaine asked. ‘She hardly ate anything of what we ordered last time.’

  ‘I could ask someone in the kitchen for advice,’ he said. ‘Surely they will know what children here like to eat.’ He went to the phone by the bed and pressed the key for room service. ‘Speak English?’ he asked when it was answered.

  ‘A little.’

  ‘What do children living here like to eat?’

  ‘You want to eat?’

  ‘Yes, but I need to know what a child living in this country likes to eat.’

  ‘The room service menu is in your room by the phone,’ came the reply.

  ‘I know. Thank you. What do I order for a child?’

  ‘You would like to order now?’ So it appeared his English was very limited.

  ‘We’ll order later. Thank you,’ Ian said, and ended the call.

  Elaine looked at him.

  ‘I have another idea,’ he said. ‘At least one of the girls at the reception desk speaks good English. I’ll take Anastasia down and ask her to find out what she likes to eat. Failing that, if she doesn’t eat tomorrow we’ll have to phone Dr Ciobanu for advice.’

  ‘What if Anastasia throws a tantrum and starts screaming when you try to bring her back?’ Elaine asked, worried.

  ‘I’ll carry her.’

  ‘I’ll come with you to help,’ she said.

  ‘No. You stay here and have a rest. We won’t be long.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Elaine smiled gratefully. A few minutes to herself would be very welcome right now. She took one of Anastasia’s cardigans from her case as it was cooler in reception and helped her into it. ‘See you soon. Be good,’ she said, and kissed her cheek. Anastasia stared at her, uncomprehending.

  Once they’d gone, Elaine had a quick tidy up – the room was in a mess – and then lay on the bed and tried to relax. Her eyes felt heavy and her forehead tight as if she had the beginning of a headache. Little wonder with everything they’d been through in the last twenty-four hours, and she reminded herself what a momentous, life-changing day it had been. They had woken as a childless couple, attended court, which had been emotionally exhausting in itself, and now they were parents, and Ian was out with their daughter. It didn’t get more significant than that!

  Ian was gone for over half an hour and Elaine was on the verge of going to find them when she heard thumping on the door – Anastasia – and then Ian inserting his key card into the lock. Anastasia rushed into the room, clearly very excited. Ian was smiling too. ‘That girl on reception was so helpful,’ he said. ‘She was about to finish her shift but when I explained our problem she stayed and had a good chat with Anastasia. Then she helped me order from room service. I’ve ordered for us too. It should be here in about twenty minutes.’

  ‘Fantastic,’ Elaine said. She picked up Anastasia’s cardigan, which she’d thrown on the floor. ‘What else did she talk to her about? You were gone ages.’

  ‘She told Anastasia
we were nice people and she was lucky to have a mummy and daddy to look after her. I asked her to explain that we would be staying in the hotel for a week and then flying home, and I showed her the photos of where we lived on my phone. She also told me about a park not far from here. I thought we could try it tomorrow, although obviously it’s cold so we wouldn’t stay long.’

  ‘Great. And Anastasia didn’t scream when you tried to bring her up to the room?’

  ‘No. She was fine. So hopefully she understands more now and will settle.’

  ‘Wonderful. Thank you.’ Buoyed up and feeling more positive, Elaine took out the crayons and colouring book she’d brought with them to keep Anastasia amused until their dinner arrived.

  What she didn’t know until months later, when Anastasia had learned sufficient English to tell her, was that she’d repeatedly told the receptionist she didn’t want to stay with Mummy and Daddy, but to go back to the orphanage.

  Despite ordering what Anastasia had told the receptionist she wanted, when the food arrived she ate very little. Ian said again that if it didn’t change tomorrow they’d have to phone Dr Ciobanu for advice. He and Elaine ate and then it was time for Anastasia to go to bed. Elaine helped her change into her pyjamas without too much fuss, explaining what she was doing and why, although Anastasia didn’t understand. Then she took her to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Anastasia seemed to know how to brush her teeth but didn’t like the toothpaste, although it was one sold in England for toddlers. She pulled a face and spat it on the floor. Elaine tried her with their adult toothpaste but she didn’t like that either. Perhaps she’d never used toothpaste before, but at least she had brushed her teeth, which was important.

  Elaine and Ian knew it wasn’t ideal all sleeping in one room, but there wasn’t an alternative, and it was only for a week and then they’d be home and Anastasia would have her own room. Elaine also knew that establishing a good bedtime routine was important, so she read Anastasia a story, persuaded her into the foldaway bed, which was close to theirs, then they both kissed her goodnight and Ian dimmed the lights. As they were all in the same room Ian and Elaine lay on their bed and pretended to be asleep, with the intention that once Anastasia was in a deep sleep they could read for a while. But Anastasia had different ideas. She was in a strange room where everything was new and interesting. She certainly wasn’t ready to sleep. And unlike at the orphanage where the bars on her cot had kept her in, as well as a good telling-off if she tried to climb out, there were no bars on her bed and she was able to slip out easily. She ran around the room, not upset but more hyperactive, opening and closing drawers, picking up anything she could reach and then banging on the door. Elaine and Ian repeatedly resettled her and told her it was bedtime.

  By midnight, when she still hadn’t settled, they were exhausted and craving sleep themselves, so they tried taking her into their bed, but she clambered out. Just before 2 a.m. their bedside phone rang and Ian answered it. It was reception. Someone had complained about the noise coming from their room and they were asked to keep it down for the convenience of other guests. Ian apologized and Elaine felt acutely embarrassed. They knew they were going to have to be firmer with Anastasia, so they took her into their bed again and this time stopped her from leaving. She screamed, kicked, tried to hit them but eventually fell asleep. When Elaine woke at 7.10 Anastasia was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter Twelve

  Another Worry

  ‘Where’s Anastasia?’ Elaine cried, sitting bolt upright and waking Ian. They were both immediately out of bed. She wasn’t in the room and Elaine rushed into the bathroom, followed by Ian. She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the contents of Elaine’s handbag and playing with her mobile phone. ‘That’s naughty,’ Elaine said, taking the phone from her. Anastasia looked hurt.

  ‘She’s only playing,’ Ian said.

  ‘It’s not your phone,’ Elaine said sharply, checking to see what damage had been done.

  Ian began collecting together the contents of Elaine’s handbag and returning them to the bag. Seeing her playthings disappear, Anastasia screamed.

  ‘Stop it!’ Elaine shouted, her nerves frayed from tiredness.

  ‘Come on,’ Ian said, taking Anastasia’s hand. ‘You can look at the photos on Daddy’s phone while Mummy showers and dresses.’

  He took Anastasia into the room, sat her on their bed and gave her his phone to play with while he made coffee. He had a coffee ready for Elaine when she came out of the shower. ‘Thanks, love,’ she said gratefully. ‘Sorry I snapped.’

  ‘It’s OK.’ He hugged her. ‘We hardly got any sleep last night. It will get easier.’

  Elaine nodded and, cupping the mug in her hands, sipped the coffee, thankful that Ian was understanding. It wasn’t like her to be so short-tempered.

  Showered and dressed and partially rejuvenated by coffee, Elaine chose some clothes for Anastasia to wear and helped her into them while Ian got ready. She praised Anastasia at every opportunity, told her she loved her, then found the words for restaurant and breakfast in their phrase book and tried to explain they were going to the restaurant for breakfast. Anastasia looked at her blankly. Elaine had big concerns about going to the restaurant but as Ian said, they couldn’t stay holed up in their room all week, and Anastasia wasn’t interested in what room service had to offer. He said that if she wouldn’t sit at the table or caused any trouble, they’d come straight back to their room.

  Ten minutes later they were ready and went down in the lift. There were two couples and three business people already in the restaurant and Ian and Elaine went to their usual table. Anastasia climbed onto a chair, but at her age she could barely see over the table. ‘That’s not going to work,’ Elaine said, immediately growing anxious. The waitress came over, said something they didn’t understand and returned with a child’s bolster seat. ‘Thank you so much,’ Elaine said. Of course a hotel restaurant would have a child seat. She should have realized that.

  The waitress left them to study the menu, which at breakfast was the same every morning. ‘Something quick,’ Elaine said, glancing at Ian. At present Anastasia was sitting still, watching the other guests and what was going on around her, but how long that would last was anyone’s guess. When the waitress returned to take their orders Elaine asked for croissants, and Ian scrambled eggs on toast.

  ‘What for the child?’ Elaine asked, pointing to the menu and then at Anastasia. This waitress spoke some English but not as much as Maria had.

  ‘She have breakfast?’

  ‘Yes, please. What?’

  The waitress understood and pointed to cornmeal porridge and orange juice on the menu.

  ‘Thank you. Yes, please,’ she said.

  Relieved, Elaine took the crayons and small colouring pad she’d brought with her from her handbag and set them in front of Anastasia to keep her amused, although at present she was engrossed in all that was going on around her, doubtless having never been in a restaurant before. When the food arrived Elaine was feeling more confident and they were both hopeful Anastasia would eat the porridge the waitress had chosen. She looked at it, interested, picked up the glass of juice and drank some, then dipped her spoon into the porridge, took a mouthful and stopped. ‘Eat up,’ Elaine encouraged, taking a bite of her croissant.

  Anastasia put the spoon down.

  ‘Perhaps it wants some more milk and sugar on it,’ Ian suggested, and added a little of each.

  Anastasia watched him, intrigued, then reached for the sugar and added lots more herself. ‘That’s enough,’ Elaine said, moving the sugar bowl out of reach.

  Anastasia tipped on some more milk, then spent a while stirring the mixture before returning the spoon to the table. Ian and Elaine tried to encourage her to have some without success, then offered her bite-sized portions of what they were eating, but she shook her head. She drank some more juice but then lost interest in what the table had to offer and, slipping from her chair, made a run for the door. Ian went af
ter her, brought her back, and gave her his phone to play with while they quickly finished their breakfast.

  Although Anastasia’s behaviour in the restaurant hadn’t caused a huge problem, she’d eaten virtually nothing. It was at least twenty-four hours since her last meal – longer if she hadn’t had breakfast before going to court the day before. Once in their hotel room Elaine gave her the milkshake they’d bought from the local supermarket and she drank half of it. Then, wrapping up warm, they went to the park the receptionist had recommended. Midweek in winter they were the only ones there, but Anastasia enjoyed herself running around and playing on the equipment. As Ian and Elaine helped her on or off the apparatus and pushed her on the swing, it gave them a glimpse of a positive side of parenting and the joy Anastasia would bring to them. This was what being a family was all about, although the fact that Anastasia wasn’t eating hung over them.

  ‘She must be hungry by now,’ Ian said as they made their way back to the hotel, faces glowing from the cold.

  ‘And tired,’ Elaine said. ‘Perhaps we can all have a nap after lunch.’

  The hotel restaurant wasn’t open at lunchtime, as most guests were out, so they ordered room service. While they waited, Anastasia finished the milkshake, but when the food arrived she took a bite from some of it and that was all.

  ‘If she doesn’t have anything tonight, I’ll phone Dr Ciobanu,’ Ian said.

  With lack of sleep catching up on them, at mid-afternoon they drew the curtains in their hotel room, put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door and lay on the bed with Anastasia between them and told her they were all going to have a sleep. Elaine was so tired she couldn’t think straight and Ian looked pale, although he didn’t complain. But Anastasia wasn’t tired and as soon as they closed their eyes she was off the bed, running around and into everything. ‘I swear that child runs on air,’ Ian said, getting up to bring her back. ‘She’s had hardly any sleep and nothing to eat.’