by Casey Watson
I continued to watch Adrianna, realising how different she had always seemed from the kids we usually fostered – and from day one. ‘This has been one weird placement,’ I mused, as I continued to watch her through the conservatory window.
Riley looked at me quizzically. ‘Weird? How d’you mean, Mum?’ she asked.
I thought for a moment. ‘Just the complete absence of all the things we usually have to deal with, I suppose. No meltdowns, no door-slamming. No behavioural issues. No dashing to the phone to call the emergency duty team in the small hours. No violence. No self-harming …’ I smiled as I trailed off. The list of troubles she didn’t display was probably endless. ‘Honestly, in some ways it’s been more like having an international student come to stay with us. You know? Or an au pair even. Or a lodger.’ I looked at my daughter. ‘Do you think they breed them tougher in Poland? Is that it? Because one thing is for sure. She’s been so little trouble – you know, on a day-to-day level – that it’s all too easy to forget what she’s been through. You’d think she’d … I don’t know …’ I faltered. ‘It’s hard to explain, but, you know, where has it all gone? All that psychological trauma. All the fear and the loneliness and the sense of betrayal. All the horror of everything that’s happened to her. You know, since she told me her real story that day at the hospital, she’s barely mentioned any of it again. I mean, yes, she’s made the odd comment – about her dad, about the friends she made. But that’s it. So where’s it gone? It’s like she’s – I don’t know – wiped the disk in her brain. Isn’t the human psyche strange?’
‘You’re telling me,’ Riley said. She considered it for a moment. ‘But maybe that’s the best way of dealing with it all. For her. You know, I appreciate we do all this training about psychology and all that, and I get that. And if a child has major issues because of something they’re not dealing with, then obviously it’s important that they get help. But don’t you think that, sometimes, it’s better if you can forget? Just, you know, park it. Move on. Not keep trying to go back. It’s not like she can change anything, is it?’
‘She still has a mother out there somewhere. Well, if she can be called that, quite frankly.’ I sighed. ‘No, I shouldn’t say that. I don’t know her story, do I?’
‘So maybe at some point in the future there will be a reconciliation there. Does funny things to you, being a mother, doesn’t it? You get a whole new perspective. Perhaps she’ll find a way …’
‘Nice to think so. Though right now she seems pretty set on what she wants. Which is not to go back, ever. Just to get her baby back …’
‘And that’s going to keep her pretty busy. Hard business bringing up a baby as a single mum, for anyone.’
I nodded. It was another mountain yet to climb, definitely – both practically and emotionally. But she was just so fired up to get going. To reclaim the motherhood she’d almost lost. ‘I just wish things could be speeded up for her,’ I said. ‘That she could get on with it. Poor thing is pining for that baby boy, and there’s nothing I can do to help her.’
‘But you are helping, Mum,’ Riley said. ‘Of course you are. Imagine if she didn’t have you and Dad in her corner. Think about it. Fate has played a massive part here. If she didn’t live with you two, she’d never have met Lauren, she’d never have gone to dance class, she’d probably never have gone to hospital … or if she had, who’s to say she’d have dared open up about what had happened to her? She might well have been too scared, mightn’t she? She could have been carrying that pain around for years yet. No baby. End of. For ever. Now that, I’d say, really would mess with her psyche. Instead, she’s in contact with her baby and in all likelihood she will get him back.’
‘I just wish the whole process didn’t take so long, though.’
Riley rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, Mum, things can’t always happen at your command, you know. You just have to be a bit more patient!’
‘Oh, I know,’ I said, gazing out at the happy little tableau in the garden. ‘But you know what I’m like. When I uncover a mystery – well, okay, in this case, sort of – I just want all the loose ends tied up as quickly as possible. I hate this feeling of being in limbo – of not knowing what’s going to happen next.’
‘Oh, Mother,’ Riley said, shaking both her head and the salad tongs. ‘You already know exactly what happens next. Adrianna continues to be assessed, social services decide if she’s a fit mother, they help her find a flat and off she goes – simples! And listen –’ We both did. ‘Kieron’s just put on your Blondie CD, so come on, get your groove on and have a dance, woman!’
So I did dance, and allowed myself to ‘go with the flow’. Which wasn’t difficult, seeing as I had all my family around me. All the kids and grandkids, Donna and Chloe, my mum and dad – even Denver, for whom I would always have a soft spot – and all of whom kindly brought gifts for all three of our birthday guests.
And, best of all, one very special gift indeed. Soppy to be so sentimental, I know, but perhaps that’s just part and parcel of getting older. You’ve seen so much, been through stuff, learned what matters and what doesn’t, and, for the first but definitely not the last time that day, I found myself feeling silly for being reduced to floods of tears.
It was just so unexpected. One minute I was standing chatting to Lauren, little Dee Dee on my hip, and the next I had Marley Mae tugging at my top and asking me to go with her to give Adrianna a special present.
So off we all toddled, whereupon I was astonished to watch my grandaughter climb onto Adrianna’s knee and present her with her oh-so-precious rabbit.
‘For baby Ethan,’ she said. I think I actually gaped. This wasn’t just any rabbit, this was the cuddly-toy-that-must-never-be-mislaid. The one she’d clung to since babyhood – her chosen ‘transitional comfort item’, to use the parlance. The ball of fluff that had been through the wash-dryer cycle a zillion times, the thing she simply could not be without.
Correction. I did gape. I twisted my head and gaped at Riley. But she just gave me a ‘well, if that’s what she wants to do’ kind of shrug.
‘It’s a wabbit,’ Marley Mae went on. Adrianna was gaping too. ‘An’ he was mine when I was little. But I’m a big girl today, so I don’t need him no more. It’s okay,’ she said, presumably seeing Adrianna’s doubtful expression. ‘You have it for the baby. Go on – kiss him!’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Adrianna answered, dutifully kissing both ‘wabbit’ and Marley Mae. And, conscious that a change of mind might occur once my grandaughter got tired, I had to bite my lip to stop the words ‘Are you sure?’ coming from them. Perhaps I was underestimating her anyway.
‘Thank you, my princess,’ Adrianna said, her voice wobbly. ‘And soon you will meet baby Ethan yourself. And I promise I will tell him that it was you that gave him his very first Easter bunny.’
And there were, it seemed, other Easter traditions for us to partake in, of a kind that went down extremely well in some quarters. With the day proving so kind, we did the triple cake candle blowing-out ceremony in the garden, and it was just after that when I caught the tail-end of a conversation that had Tyler in something of an excited spin.
‘You look like you’re cooking something up,’ I said to the giggling teenage gaggle – teenage and, I noted, including Levi and Kieron.
‘Tell Mum,’ Tyler enthused. ‘We just have to do it, don’t we?’ He nudged Kieron. ‘It’s not like we haven’t got the kit for it or anything, is it?’
‘I’m definitely up for it,’ Kieron agreed.
‘Go on then,’ I said, knowing intuitively that it was going to be something I probably wouldn’t approve of but would end up sanctioning anyway.
‘We have this tradition in Poland,’ Adrianna explained. ‘It’s called Wet Monday –’
‘Uh-ho,’ I said.
‘Really, it is the best fun of all of Easter. It is the day when all the boys get water – they fill buckets, and use water pistols, and blasters –’
; ‘And we have blasters,’ said Tyler, grinning at Denver.
‘And they chase the girls around. All over town, this is – everyone does this. And everyone gets very, very wet. It’s so fun,’ she finished, beaming.
My immediate thought was – in Gdansk, on the Baltic? It would be – well, Baltic! And my second was that there was no getting away from it. It might be Sunday, but there was no splitting hairs to be done here. Wet Monday, Polish style, was what it was going to be. I knew those gleams – in Kieron, in Tyler and, increasingly, in Levi. It would take a better woman than I was to manage to stop them.
Even had I wanted to, which I didn’t. And Adrianna had been right. It was indeed ‘so fun’. For everyone.
And, yes, everyone got very, very wet.
I would never have imagined that the day could have gone any better, but it seemed it was about to. We were just at the mopping-up stage, everyone full of birthday cake and giggles, when my mobile phone started to vibrate on the bench beside me. I glanced down at the number and grimaced. Why on earth would John Fulshaw be calling me on a Sunday afternoon? Certainly not to pass the time of day. I hoped it wasn’t more bad news, but I dodged into the conservatory to take it just in case.
‘Hi, Casey,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry to interrupt the festivities and I know you’ll be busy but I wanted you to know as soon as I did. I’ve just taken the call.’
‘What call?’ I asked, cupping a hand round my other ear to drown out the noise coming from the garden. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘Just the opposite,’ he said brightly. ‘I am the bearer of good news for a change. The assessment carers I mentioned have agreed to take Ethan. All being well, he moves in with them next week.’
‘Oh, that’s brilliant,’ I said, doing a little Tyler fist-pump. I couldn’t wait to see the expression on Adrianna’s face.
‘Oh, but there’s more. Something that I think will make your day as well. Casey, they only live two minutes away from your house.’
This was stunning news. Almost unbelievable, in fact. ‘What? Really? Oh my God, John! So close! What are the chances?’
‘Slim to zero, I’d say. But sometimes the sun shines on the righteous, I guess. So yes, really. Almost neighbours.’
‘So do I know them?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘They’re fairly new to the area. Probably heard on the grapevine what a nice class of people live roundabouts. But, no, they say they don’t know you, so I’m assuming not – except perhaps by sight. Which might be the case because they’re practically round the corner from you.’
This was marvellous news. For both us and Adrianna. ‘Oh,’ I said, joyfully, ‘I cannot wait to tell her!’
‘Listen, about that. D’you think you could put her on the phone? Call me soft, but I’d really like to tell her this myself. I feel I’m always the bearer of bad tidings, so it would be nice to be the one giving her some good news for a change.’
‘Oh, of course!’ I said. Bless him. And he made a good point. All the hard work he did behind the scenes, making a difference – did it really get the appreciation it deserved? Probably not. I told him to hang on and dashed out into the garden, phone in hand, dragging Adrianna back with me to somewhere she could properly hear.
‘It’s for you,’ I said, grinning as I handed her my mobile. Then stood and waited as she listened and the smile began to creep up her face. ‘Oh,’ she said, finally, ‘dzieki, dzieki!’ Then a bunch of stuff in Polish that I didn’t understand.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, once she’d managed to regain some composure. ‘I was so excited I forgot to speak in English. Forgive me.’
As if she needed to apologise. ‘Don’t be daft,’ I said. ‘I just wondered what you said to John, that was all.’
She blushed. She was a beautiful girl. Inside and out. ‘Oh, just that he is now my ziom, like Tyler. And that this is the best birthday present I could wish for.’ Then she put a hand to her mouth, clearly having second thoughts. ‘Oh, but I hope I was not too familiar!’
No danger of that, I thought. Bless her. I could already imagine the width of John’s grin.
Chapter 21
Because I simply couldn’t resist it, I got the assessment carers’ address and phone number from John, and the following Tuesday, with his blessing, Adrianna and I set off round there to say hello – and it really was just a hop and a skip away.
They were another youngish couple, not so different from Jack and Sarah down in London, but with one major difference: they had no children of their own. Which intrigued me – I knew foster carers were like Heinz beans, and came in 57 varieties, but this was one variety I’d not come across before.
Which seemed logical, I mused, as we crossed the small park that separated our respective streets. A first baby is such a massive upheaval in anyone’s life that I couldn’t quite get my head round how they coped with what they did without being parents themselves. But then I mused a little longer and saw the ridiculousness of my reasoning. The world was stuffed full of midwives who’d never given birth themselves, wasn’t it? Not to mention child psychologists, and paediatricians, and nursery nurses. There was such a thing as training, wasn’t there? Really, why not this as well?
We headed out of the other side of the park, Adrianna in raptures about all of it. I’d pointed out the play park and the place where the path ran down to the woods. ‘There’s a stream down there, too,’ I said. ‘Perfect for pond dipping.’
She almost clapped her hands in glee at this and at first I wondered why so much excitement. After all, she must have seen plenty of parks before. Not to mention slept in a few from time to time. But then it struck me. She was already making that transition. To seeing the world and all that was in it through her child’s eyes.
The woman, Alex, was as nice in person as she’d seemed on the phone, ushering us smilingly into a sunny back room that overlooked the woods, and which smelt pleasingly – certainly to my nostrils – of coffee and furniture polish.
‘This couldn’t be better, could it?’ she enthused. ‘I couldn’t believe it when John told me we were so close. It will make the transition so much easier, won’t it? How are you doing, Adrianna? So nice to meet you. I’ll bet you are counting the days.’
‘And the hours, and the minutes …’ I added, laughing.
‘And the seconds, too,’ Adrianna confirmed. ‘I hope it’s not so much longer to wait.’
Alex reassured her that she didn’t think it would be. ‘And as soon as he is here, we’ll all sit down and make a plan.’
And it would be a plan that would very much include me. I was well aware that once Ethan was transferred into Alex and her partner’s care my own role in respect to Adrianna would also change. To some extent, I’d no longer be just a bringer of love and security. I would also become an assessor of her as well; it would be our joint reporting on how she was coping with the demands of motherhood, not to mention whether she was making strides towards independence, that would make up much of the material that would decide the outcome for them both.
And I had a good feeling about the couple from the outset. I hadn’t known what to expect, but my thoughts had certainly drifted. There’s a type of childcare guru, usually childless, that tends to polarise opinion, due to the uncompromising nature of their methods. All lickety-spit, no-nonsense, ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ edicts – but Alex wasn’t like that at all. I asked her how she’d come to do such a specialist kind of fostering.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I just saw an advert and it appealed to me. I’ve been around babies all my life, as has Simon – we both grew up in very large families. And it just kind of spoke to me.’ She grinned at Adrianna. ‘So here I am.’
She said they’d been doing it for two years now – exactly what they’d be doing with Ethan and Adrianna – and that they were in no rush to have children of their own just yet. ‘I think we’ll know when the time is right,’ she finished. ‘Or, more accurately,
the bank account will, anyway. Though my mum disagrees.’ She smiled indulgently. ‘Bless her. She’s convinced it’ll put us off and that she’ll never be a grandma. But quite the contrary.’
I nodded. ‘I know what you mean. I thought our fostering might put my daughter off having children too. But she has three of them, and she also does some fostering herself. Only respite, for the moment, at least till the little ones are a bit older. Still, I’d never have thought she’d choose to do that. Perhaps it’s just a job that chooses you.’
‘And how about you, honey?’ Alex said, turning to Adrianna. ‘Have you any idea what you want to do with the rest of your life yet?’
It took me slightly aback, and in a wholly positive way. I felt almost chastened. We were all so focused on the traumas of the present that I don’t think we’d really thought to look beyond them. I loved Alex for that – that she saw something beyond the girl in care, in terrible straits, whose circumstances had led her to let go of her baby and who would now have to spend a difficult, scrutinised, complicated few months – if not more – trying to get him back again. I decided I liked Alex very much.
Adrianna took the question seriously, as was her way. ‘I think I would like to be a teacher. Maybe music. I played piano as a child. Which I liked very much. And the ballet.’ She smiled shyly. ‘But perhaps that is a little too ambitious.’
Alex shook her head. ‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘It’s good to have ambition.’
‘But for now my ambition is to be a good mother to Ethan. And now he will be close …’ She glanced at me. ‘I will be able to see him more?’
Alex beamed at her. ‘Of course you will. In fact, that’s exactly what you’ll do. Part of our job – mine and Simon’s – is to take a step back while Ethan is staying here, and let you do most of the caring. Which means that, hopefully, after your first couple of visits, you will be feeding him, bathing him, taking him for walks and, most glamorous of all, changing his dirty nappies. How does that sound?’