Where Women are Kings

by Christie Watson

  The Staffy at her feet barked and yapped and spun around in circles, chasing his tail. She focused and was back in the training yard, the grey day wrapped around her. Instead of a silk dress, she looked down at her muddy boots, the thick dog weaving between them. Nikki laughed. ‘All right, little one,’ she said. ‘What an excited boy you are!’ And he ran at her and jumped up knocking her off balance until he could get a good lick of her face.

  ‘Nikki! Phone call!’

  She pushed him away and wiped the slobber from her cheeks. Still laughing, she went into the office to answer the phone. Sometimes Chanel phoned her with some drama or other, but the voice wasn’t Chanel’s.

  ‘Nikki? It’s Ricardo. I’m so sorry to bother you at work, but I knew you’d want me to. I wonder if you’re home this evening?’

  Nikki’s heart began thumping so hard it hurt. Why would he phone? Was there a problem with their application? ‘We can be. Is everything OK?’

  ‘Well, it’s nothing to get excited about yet, but there is a child I wanted to discuss with you. A lovely boy who needs an extra-special family. But, as I said, this is very early days, so don’t get too excited.’

  Nikki listened to all the words that Ricardo said, and looked out of the window at the Staffy jumping up and down and spinning round and round like her heart. Ricardo spoke for another five minutes but all Nikki could hear were the words ‘there is a child’ over and over again: Thereisachildthereisa childthereisachildthereisachildthereisachildthereisachild.

  *

  Later that evening, they looked out of the window and watched Ricardo’s car pull up outside, the car window open and techno music blaring out for a few seconds before he switched the engine off. They watched Ricardo walking up the path towards the house wearing the widest-brimmed hat Nikki had ever seen and it took effort, even with all the stress and importance of the visit, not to laugh. It stretched out either side of his head like an umbrella and, as Ricardo neared the door where they stood, Obi squeezed her hand hard, and coughed. Obi was holding his stomach in, trying not to laugh. If he burst out laughing, she would be so angry. Everything rested on this visit.

  ‘Hello, my loves,’ Ricardo said, reaching an arm out from the shade of his hat. ‘Thanks for seeing me today.’

  ‘Hello. Come in.’ Nikki stepped backwards to allow Obi and Ricardo to move through the doorway. She had already laid out cookies and cake, juice and a pot of tea in the living room. Ricardo followed her, sat down and whipped off the hat in one movement.

  Underneath the hat, Ricardo’s hair was blue.

  Nikki and Obi stood looking at him for what seemed like ages, and quiet filled every corner of the room. Nikki tried to speak but no words came out. Obi started to laugh, holding his stomach with his hand: a real belly laugh, without any attempt to hide it. Nikki wanted to cry. How she loved Obi, and how she felt like killing him sometimes. But part of her wanted to burst out laughing too.

  ‘Oh, this,’ said Ricardo, beginning to laugh too, while rubbing his hair. ‘I do apologise. It’s much brighter than I’d intended.’ He laughed again and all Nikki could hear was two men giggling like children, and she imagined her happiness hovering in the air between them, like a hummingbird, too fast, too small for them to notice.

  ‘But, seriously – I must look very unprofessional. I’m a very professional person, honestly! It was supposed to wash out. Still, you should never believe the packet … Doesn’t always do what it says on the tin!’ Ricardo threw back his head, his laughter punctuated by snorts every few seconds.

  ‘Right,’ said Obi, sitting down eventually, after he had stopped laughing, ‘would you like some tea?’

  ‘Lovely,’ Ricardo said.

  Nikki sat on the chair opposite, trying not to look at the electric-blue hair or the giant hat on the back of the sofa, like a satellite dish. She tried to focus on the image of a child, of them as parents.

  Ricardo drank some tea and ate three pieces of cake, dropping crumbs all over himself. Nikki could almost hear Obi’s thoughts: We can’t trust a man who looks like this, with blue hair; how is this man a practising social worker?

  ‘Like I said, there’s a child, and I must tell you that I think you’d be a very good match for my lovely Elijah. I’ve brought the paperwork with me to go through it, but I’m afraid it’s not been done in great detail. But, of course, I can fill you in on the details. He really is a lovely little seven-year-old boy. Of course, there are plenty of things for us to discuss, factors that may affect his future behaviours.’ He paused. ‘He’s had very challenging behaviours in the past. He might have been involved in a fire – even trying to hurt one of the other foster children in his last placement.’

  Obi’s face was neutral. But, even then, Nikki swore she noticed the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

  ‘He’s had some terrible experiences, but he appears to be resilient. He has suffered, though, a great deal of trauma, multiple moves and abuse – both neglect and physical – and his birth mum has a history of mental-health difficulties, some of which may be genetic. I know this is a lot to take on board, and we weren’t considering adoption for Elijah at all; we were looking at long-term fostering. However, he’s done so amazingly well in therapy that we think he would do well in a family environment. With the right family, of course. In terms of contact, it’s currently letterbox only but ideally we’d like twice-yearly face to face. The birth mother has been encouraged to start writing letters but we’re not sure how that’ll go. If they’re too age-inappropriate or disturbing in any way, we’ll keep hold of them and make sure he gets them when he’s older. Meanwhile, I’ve asked if she can send cards or write more age-appropriate, general letters. Anyway, let me tell you about the boy, Elijah, my lovely Elijah.’

  He smiled and Nikki found her anxiety lifting.

  ‘He’s charming and such a character. He adores animals, so, Nikki, you’d have plenty in common. He likes anything to do with nature. He loves learning about different habitats. His temporary foster carer says that’s his favourite thing – documentaries about natural history. He has quite a collection of animal textbooks that he likes looking through. He can’t read and is way behind with his schooling, but that’s more about his lack of opportunity than ability.’ Ricardo smiled again. ‘Now, you need to be aware that caring for him will probably be the hardest job you’ve ever done. And we’d expect you to drop everything to care for him. I know we discussed this before, but you’d have to be based at home.’

  ‘My manager has said I can work flexibly.’ Nikki looked at Ricardo. Being outside with the dogs was part of who she was. ‘I could work a few hours a day when Elijah is at school.’

  Obi looked straight at her. ‘Of course, you’d stay at home if you had to,’ he said.

  Nikki nodded. ‘Of course.’

  Ricardo took another sip of tea. ‘It might work. But there’s so much to think about and discuss. If we want to proceed, then it will go to a matching panel – experts who will either agree that you’re a good match for each other or not. Very rarely do we have any disagreements at that stage, I have to say. And Elijah is a very special case so you’d probably be one of two, if not the only family we’re looking at for him.’ He frowned. ‘Elijah has difficulties separating fantasy from reality. He’s even talked about thinking he is evil. There’s an investigation going on as to whether he was subjected to some kind of ritual abuse.’

  Ritual abuse. Nikki felt her stomach sinking inside her. What did that mean? ‘Sounds serious,’ she said.

  ‘Well, it is, but we don’t know anything yet. As for Elijah saying he’s bad, my own feeling is that he’s been made to feel bad and evil, and so that’s exactly what he believes, but it’s not naturally a part of him. You’ll see. There’s a pattern. Elijah’s behaviours only become serious when something goes wrong – with his birth mum or in a placement – which all seems understandable but obviously needs to be addressed. So you see there’ll be lots of work to do, and that will mean l
eaving work at a moment’s notice if he’s having a bad day, or something happens at school.’

  ‘Of course. We’re fully prepared for that.’ Obi leant forwards and put his hand on top of Nikki’s knee. ‘And we’re committed together. I would be able to take some time off work too, in special circumstances.’

  Obi’s job was important, dealing with asylum seekers who had just arrived in the country, terrified and alone, often suffering physical and psychological scars. Nikki knew that she’d be the primary carer. She remembered the mum she saw in the park, letting her son climb high up a tree, her arms outstretched ready to catch him. She could do this. They could do it. They were so close to having a child. ‘What if we’re not a suitable family for him?’ Nikki asked. ‘You said we might be the only ones?’

  ‘Well, that’s complicated. But, essentially, Elijah may be at the age now when a residential unit might be more appropriate than a family setting.’

  ‘You mean a children’s home?’

  ‘They’re not as bad as you’d think,’ said Ricardo. ‘And for some children family life may just be impossible. Elijah may be heading that way, and people don’t come forward for older children—’

  ‘He’s seven years old,’ said Obi.

  ‘I know. It seems crazy, doesn’t it? But Elijah has had a number of moves, which will all have affected his attachment. And he was with his birth mother until he was five. I don’t want to paint a completely negative picture, but Elijah will have major difficulties and you need to be prepared.’

  ‘Seven years old,’ said Obi, shaking his head again.

  ‘It’s important to remember that all children needing adoption will have special needs of some description or other. All of them. And the key factor seems to be how resilient they are; certainly Elijah appears extremely resilient.’ He paused. ‘The other important factor is that Elijah will need to be an only child. I know medically you’re not exactly in a position to have another child, but I still wanted to say – because of that tiny possibility. I can’t stress it enough. We wouldn’t go through the process if there were any way that you planned to have birth children soon. I think maybe when he’s much older, depending on how he’s doing, you could consider it, but you’d need to leave a significant gap or it could really affect Elijah’s placement. He’s suffered too many moves and too much abuse to share his parents and he needs to be cared for as a much younger child since he missed out on those experiences and so is emotionally very demanding.’

  ‘We aren’t trying to have children of our own,’ said Obi. ‘Not any more. I don’t think we could go through that again.’

  ‘We were told by so many doctors,’ said Nikki. ‘The doctors said it would be very hard, almost impossible, for me to get pregnant in the first place, now, after the stillbirth. And, even if it wasn’t, I take contraceptives to regulate my periods. So there’s really no chance.’

  ‘Well, that’s clarified.’ Ricardo leant forwards. ‘I think it’s a great thing you’re thinking of doing,’ he said. ‘I’d love to adopt one day myself, in Brazil. I think I’d choose to consider an older child too.’ Then he started talking about Elijah again. ‘The most beautiful boy,’ he said. ‘The kindest, the sweetest,’ and his face changed too, and he spoke about Elijah as if they were old friends, or even family. Nikki saw that he loved this boy, this Elijah. And the hat or the blue hair didn’t matter at all. He loved him. ‘Would you like to see a photo before we go through his paperwork?’

  Nikki could feel her breath coming out quickly, her heart beating faster. He was there, suddenly, in front of their eyes: a boy, smiling, dimples, tiny teeth.

  ‘What’s that on his forehead?’ Nikki pointed to the photo. There was a mark, a line.

  ‘He has a small scar from an incident where he was admitted to hospital. He had to have a small operation and the injury was never fully explained, but he’s fine now. No health problems at all.’

  ‘OK,’ said Nikki. It was just a small scar.

  ‘He’s very handsome!’ said Obi.

  Nikki studied Elijah’s eyes and for a split second tried to imagine what those eyes would have seen, and all she wanted to do was hold him. She clutched Obi’s hand tightly and looked straight at Ricardo. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  NINE

  Elijah had been to Nikki and Obi’s house before, four times, during introductions, but nothing had felt real. Elijah would stay for two nights, then go back to Nargis’ and talk with Ricardo before coming back. Now it was 14 July and Elijah had moved in. For good. Even when Ricardo had told Elijah that he’d found a forever family, parents he could live with until he was grown up, it hadn’t felt real at all. Obi looked a bit like Mama and, even though Nikki didn’t look like Mama at all, she had a kind face. Calm and soft. Like water, if you kept really, really still in the bath.

  When he thought of Mama, Elijah wanted to curl into a ball and never uncurl. But Ricardo had smiled and told him everything would work out fine. ‘You deserve to love and be in a family and be safe. You’re a good boy, Elijah, who deserves a loving family.’ He’d looked at the photograph again and searched and searched. Ricardo had told him all through visits and introductions and overnight visits, ‘It will all feel OK, I promise. It’s a good match.’ But nothing had felt real. The only thing that was real was the wizard and Mama’s love, her voice in his head: We belong together, you and me, for eternity and even after that.

  Now he was here, sleeping in his new bed, in his new room, in his new house, with his new family and all he could think of was Mama. Did Mama know that he was in another woman’s house? Ricardo had said she was too unwell to have a visit at the moment, even though they would have liked a goodbye visit. ‘We just call it that,’ said Ricardo. ‘We know that you will have contact with Mama twice a year.’

  Goodbye visit.

  Twice a year.

  Mama would want to die.

  ‘It might help, I think,’ Ricardo had said, ‘calling Nikki and Obi “Mum” and “Dad”. It’s not always appropriate for every child but I know you very well Elijah and, if you can, I think it will help.’ He’d looked at the photograph again and again and again for the last month. Mum and Dad. He couldn’t ever call them that. But Nikki and Obi had said that was OK. They said that, even if he did call them Nikki and Obi forever, they wouldn’t mind because being a mum and dad was about a lot more than a name. And Chioma said he should call them whatever he wanted. As long as it wasn’t a bad word, she’d said. And they’d both smiled. There was a boy, three schools ago, who’d said the f-word all the time and, once, Elijah had asked what it meant and got sent to sit outside the headmaster’s office. The headmaster wasn’t smiling, but Chioma’s smile was never cross. He could probably shout the f-word and she would still smile and give him a hug.

  But even Chioma’s smile couldn’t stop Elijah thinking about forever. Forever was scary. What if the wizard made him do something bad? The dark was darker and morning further away. Nikki had put some pyjamas on the bed that had pictures of dinosaurs on them. Elijah hated dinosaurs; he liked living, breathing daylight creatures that survived, not ones that walked the earth with wizards and died a million years ago, but he knew it would upset Nikki if he said that to her, and he didn’t like making people upset even more than he didn’t like dinosaurs. He put them on anyway and climbed into bed, pulling the cover over; he watched the shapes in the darkness become dinosaurs and start moving, growling and flying around his room. After a few minutes, there was a gentle knock on the door. ‘Elijah, are you dressed? Can I come in?’

  Nikki walked over and knelt down on the floor next to the bed. She smelled nice and fresh like the air outside. She wore tiny earrings that sparkled and reminded Elijah of the game he’d play with Mama, of catching the best stars. ‘Do you want a story?’

  Elijah stretched and opened his eyes. He looked up at the shelf of stories that were waiting. Nikki stood and reached for one. ‘This one is lovely. It’s called The Little Prince.’

&nbs
p; Elijah smiled in the half darkness. Mama called him little prince sometimes.

  Nikki read one whole chapter about a boy who liked drawings of animals and he found a drawing of a boa constrictor, which was Elijah’s favourite type of snake. When Nikki showed him the picture of a boa constrictor swallowing an animal, Elijah’s mouth dropped open. He wanted to look and look at the picture and listen and listen to the story. Nikki had a lovely soft voice and it made his body feel less heavy. But Nikki closed the book. ‘Shall I stay with you while you fall asleep? It must be a bit scary staying here tonight, now you’ve officially moved in.’ Elijah saw her teeth pressed so closed together there was no gap at all between them.

  He shook his head. She must be tired and, even though he would have liked her to stay, Elijah knew that really she didn’t want to. He could tell by the way Nikki glanced at the door, and how her voice shook a bit, her closed-together teeth. Nikki had very straight shoulders, and her back was long, even sitting down. She looked very different from Sue, and Linda and Marie, Nargis and Olu. She looked a little bit beautiful, but not as beautiful as Mama. Mama was so beautiful because she was an angel. Nikki was probably a junior angel, an angel in training. He would make sure he didn’t like her. It was not safe for him to like her. His powers were very weak but he still might burn her with his laser eyes or turn her skin into molten lead. He looked at her face for something ugly to focus on but there was nothing. Her freckles were beautiful and already Elijah had noticed how they changed colour. When Nikki was really excited or happy they became darker, and when she was quiet or looked a bit sad her freckles became lighter. Mama told him that God sent down angels to kiss special people and their kisses were so powerful each kiss left behind a mark that people called a freckle. She said you could trust people with lots of freckles.