Abandoned Love

by Rosie Houghton

  “Mrs Ronson, I need not tell you I’m sure, but applying for an adoption order, is a serious matter. The Court will look at what is in the best interests of the child. In your case you are now a single parent, now aged 45 who I suspect is still trying to cope with some difficulty, the premature death of her husband. The mother in this case Miriam has every right under the Adoption Act 1958 to change her mind until an adoption order is made. I take it you haven’t told the mother yet about your latest loss.”

  “No.”

  “The Court may indeed take the view that you yourself need bereavement counselling. They may take the view that this is not entirely the most satisfactory environment to bring up a child.”

  The tears started to stream down her face.

  “But what if the mother doesn’t want her and then Rosie has to go in to a Children’s Home?”

  “It is not for me to judge the view the Court would take in such a situation. Suffice it to say from where I am sitting, the odds are not stacked in your favour.”

  She grabbed some tissues from the tissue box on the table and wiped her nose. She knew Miriam had asked her to let her know if Rosie’s circumstances changed. She also knew in her heart of hearts that if she thought there was any danger that Marjorie had to go back to work that she would definitely want her back. She had enough money to tie her over for the time being, but the probate for the will still needed to be sorted out. As if reading her thoughts Mr Maitland said.

  “I know we’ve yet to sort out the details of your husband’s estate, but I can let you know that you will be well provided for and that there is a provision in there for Rosie.”

  “”But I need to know that she is mine, that the authorities can’t take her away from me.”

  “Mrs Ronson, if you apply for an Adoption Order now, you will be seriously jeopardizing your position. May I suggest, you see how the land lies over the next six months and then make an appointment to see us again. As I reiterate I am not a family law expert, because as you know I mainly deal in wills and probate, but since you are a former employee, I am happy to advise you in a private capacity. If I were a family law expert I may well consider that I have a conflict of interest, to do in what the Courts will look at what is in the best interests of the child.”

  On the 23rd October, Marjorie went to see him again and the lawyer took notes on what had happened. She reiterated that the situation was becoming untenable, as she was having to duck and dive every time she went out somewhere with Rosie. This time he said he would make some tentative enquiries about her chances of adopting her.

  Things dragged on for another year until she was finally told that the lawyer had left the firm. By now Rosie was starting to talk and she couldn’t bear to live in this state of secrecy any longer. She spoke to the lawyers over the telephone and on her instruction they agreed to put in an application for adoption on 5th March 1969.

  On Saturday 8th March 1969, Rosie fell on a plastic spike and got an awful black eye. She was screaming her head off and Marjorie could see blood trickling down her face. Oh my God she thought, what if she has blinded herself in one eye?

  “Calm down my love.” Marjorie said rocking her until she stopped crying. “The doctor will make it better.” She telephoned the doctor, who said it would probably be alright but it would be best to go to casualty to check it out. She was terrified that if she went to casualty, there would be some record of Rosie that Social Services would grab hold of. She didn’t know what to do. What was best for Rosie, wasn’t necessarily best for Marjorie. She telephoned her mum.

  “What am I to do mum?” She said with Rosie screaming in the background.

  “You must take her to casualty love. Get the doctor to check her out. At the very least she will need something to cope with the pain by the sound of things.”

  She grabbed her keys and coat and bundled Rosie in to the mini. The nearest hospital was the County Hospital in Barnet. It took them ten minutes to get there. When she reached casualty, the nurses ushered them into a concealed cubicle and told them to wait for the doctor to arrive. A few minutes later, a nice young Asian man appeared and examined Rosie’s eye with a small torch.

  “It seems that a bit of the membrane has been torn, but the eye is alright, Mrs Ronson. You were very lucky on this occasion. I will get one of the nurses to wash it and put some antiseptic ointment on it. I’m afraid it won’t look very sightly for a while.”

  “Thanks Doctor. Will she be able to see alright?”

  “It will remain swollen for a week or so, but she will be able to see again.”

  With that the doctor smiled and went to see the next patient. The nurse tended to Rosie’s swollen eye, which was now black and blue and swollen. She took her home that evening and gave her, her supper. Marjorie thought the pain must have started subsiding as she ate her food and then went to sleep.

  Over the next week, she watched her as the swelling started to subside. Don’t worry, she kept telling herself, accidents happen to children all the time. She finally got the all clear at the hospital the following Friday.

  Marjorie was on tenterhooks that week in case the children’s officer came. She didn’t want her to be greeted by Rosie with a black eye. Anyway it had cleared up by the time she made her first visit which was on the 21st March. She was quite pleasant, asked how Rosie had come to have the name Rosalie, so Marjorie told her. There was nothing tricky to answer that time. She asked if she had any problems with Rosie and she said “No.”

  Their family doctor and friend Doctor Langford called the following Tuesday and thereafter, came once a week, so as to be able to rebut anything damaging the children’s officer might say.

  “You see Doctor Langford, there is a real chance that the mother could take her away from me. I don’t trust social services. You know I will always love her as my own, that I will look after her?

  “Marjorie, rest assured, I am doing this as your family friend. I think you make a good mother.”

  On 30th June Marjorie received a phone call from the children’s officer who asked her to go and see her at her office for an interview. The date for the adoption hearing had been fixed for 24th July. Marjorie supposed the children’s officer suddenly realized she hadn’t done very much. That and the fact that Marjorie had deliberately tried to avoid any contact if it could be helped.

  “Marjorie, can I call you that if I may?” She said

  “Yes that is OK.” She put Rosie down in a small play pen that was provided. Rosie was starting to crawl now and she didn’t want any more accidents to happen.

  “Have you made any attempt to contact the birth mother?”

  “No, I mean I haven’t, but my solicitors have, at the Danvers Road address. One got no reply and the other got returned.”

  “So, have you made any other efforts to find her?”

  “No, not particularly.”

  “Well if not, how did you originally find her?”

  Marjorie twisted her hands together and glanced over at Rosie. She couldn’t say she’d approached Mrs Bangerter through the back door. Her mind was panicking.

  “I met her through a friend of mine, who knew we wanted children.” She could see the children’s officer holding on to her every word.

  “She has since died.” She added.

  The children’s officer raised her eyebrow. She asked if Marjorie had any correspondence about it and she said she had a letter from the mother, saying she was glad she would look after Rosie.

  She told Marjorie to bring that letter along and they would take a photocopy of it. She asked when Marjorie had met the mother. Marjorie was beginning to feel quite stressed out at this stage. She said on the Monday or a Tuesday in October 1967 she had called at Danvers Road. They had talked for a bit, and she had told Marjorie she felt she’d rather know the person Rosie was going to, rather than place her with an adoption society and never know who she was sent to. She said she received a letter from her that day and then went to pick Rosie up on
the Saturday. She couldn’t remember the number of the house, or the name of the woman that put her in touch with her.

  “I’m sorry Marjorie, but I don’t find this all very satisfactory. Research has shown that it is better to wait until the child is nine or ten years of age before we formalize an adoption. I would say this is particularly so in your case, bearing in mind your recent bereavement. The child can then have a say as to whether or not they want to be adopted.”

  “I totally disagree.”

  “Perhaps you are afraid Rosie will choose not to be adopted by you?”

  “No, of course not.” She paused for thought. She couldn’t stop that niggling feeling in the back of her mind that she might make this decision. This is why she simply had to adopt her now.

  “I don’t care what the common consensus is, I just don’t think that, that is the sort of decision a child should have to make.”

  “Marjorie, you probably have no need to fear that Rosie would not choose to be adopted, or go back to her birth mother, but research has shown that this is a good idea, so that any difficulties or problems can be ironed out then.”

  All the time her mind was swimming with thoughts of Miriam. She had been adamant that Rosie should have a normal upbringing, that she should not go in to a children’s home. If she knew Arthur had died, she might try and claim her back. She couldn’t bear that to be the case.

  “Can you tell me a bit about the birth mother?” She asked

  “Oh, she was tall and slim with black hair and brown eyes. She was going out with the father for a couple of years. It wasn’t just a casual fling.”

  “She was quite good looking then?”

  What’s that got to do with it Marjorie thought? The mother had agreed to give Rosie to her hadn’t she? Why was she now being asked all these tortuous questions? She tried to change the subject.

  “Do you mind what religion Rosie is brought up in? I gather the adoption agency can be quite fussy about that.”

  “It’s in the Act.” She replied irritably.

  The children’s officer paused for a moment and then leaned forward as she spoke to her, her eyes locking in to Marjorie’s to gauge her response.

  “People think they are being kind when they bring people together, as your friend has done. I’m sorry to hear she has passed away, so I can’t meet her, but these people don’t necessarily have experience in these matters. Take your case for example. Rosie now has no father and no brothers or sisters, just you. What is your annual income, I might ask?”

  How rude Marjorie thought, her asking me that question. I suspect considerably better than yours.

  “I don’t know, I’ll have to get back to you on that one.” She said with retorted pride.

  “I am sorry to ask this, but have you made any arrangements for Rosie in the case of your death?”

  “I have arranged for my mother and a friend of mine who has a house in Richmond of her own to look after her.”

  “Marjorie, I don’t have to state the obvious, but I am assuming your mother is in her seventies, and this friend of yours is single. This is hardly satisfactory is it?”

  “My solicitors advised me to do this.”

  “Well if you can give me the name of your friend, I would like to go and see her if I may?”

  “Of course.”

  “You do know that anyone looking after a child for a month or more has to inform the local authority?”

  She said she didn’t, but of course she did. If she’d informed the local authority, Rosie wouldn’t be with her now. She would probably be with foster carers or in some children’s home. The fact that Arthur had died would have seriously weighed against her. Her only option had been to lie low, wait for the authorities to come to her. Arthur had been taken away from her so unfairly in this life. They couldn’t now take away Rosie or could they?

  The adoption hearing on the 24th July was before a Judge Grant. Marjorie arrived with Rosie and was shown into a waiting room. The children’s officer came, but not the solicitor. She stared at Marjorie in that knowing way as if to say, I’ve been here before. Marjorie did not know whether the hospital had informed her of the accident. She had been anxious to give the hospital as little information as possible, so as not to alert the authorities. There was another family before her. They were adopting a second child the Usher told her. Shortly afterwards they were shown in to the same room, where the Judge sat behind a table. There were several chairs facing him on the opposite side of the table. Straight away he said to Marjorie.

  “I thought you were being represented?”

  “I was, but my solicitor has not come yet.”

  He asked if she would like to wait for him and she said she would if it wasn’t too inconvenient. He said that would be quite alright so she left the room. The children’s officer stayed in. Marjorie wondered what conversation she was having with the judge in there. She made it clear in the meeting that she didn’t approve of adoption particularly. Before long her solicitor came.

  “Sorry I’m late. Trains were cancelled at Kings Cross so I had to hail a cab. Shall we go straight in ?”

  The judge opened a file of papers on his desk and then took a sip of water from his glass. He made a note of who was representing whom. He then slowly turned the pages of a file of papers before him, nodding occasionally as he digested the contents. After a considerable silence, he raised his head and looked at Marjorie.

  “Mrs Ronson, I’d like to say that I am entirely satisfied from the papers that I have read before me that you are giving Rosie a good home and every care.”

  He then paused and leant forward.

  “However, I am not satisfied in this case that sufficient steps have been carried out to find the real birth mother.”

  Her solicitor got up to make some representations.

  “My Lord, if I might draw you to the attention of page 5 and 6 of my affidavit, two letters have been written to the last know address in Danvers Road, one has been returned and one not replied to.”

  “That is not sufficient. I am prepared to grant temporary custody to Mrs Ronson whilst these steps are being taken. Has the client anything she wishes to say on this?”

  Marjorie nervously got up to speak to the judge. Her hands were clammy. She caught the glance of the children’s officer. She didn’t know what she had told the Judge.

  “If it please your Lordship, I feel to grant an adoption of Rosie would give her greater security, especially as she has no father. I don’t think it should be delayed.”

  “It is precisely because she has no father, that I am reluctant to do anything until the birth mother is contacted, Mrs Ronson. I see no reason why such matters cannot be delayed until then. You certainly weren’t precipitous yourself with this application, were you?” He said candidly.

  “I’m sorry your Lordship, but there is a child living in the same road as her, that has said to her, where is her real mummy? I am worried that soon other people are going to say that sort of thing to her.”

  The Judge paused and exchanged glances with the children’s officer. He said in no uncertain terms

  “But you will tell her about her mother won’t you?”

  She hesitated, a little taken aback by the question

  “Indeed I will, your Lordship. I liked the mother and will tell her all about her.”

  The Judge asked her lawyer what he thought and he said that he thought Marjorie should adopt Rosalie. The judge asked why and she couldn’t remember what the lawyer said, except that Arthur’s death was totally unexpected.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs Ronson, but I am not satisfied that enough effort has been made in this case to find the birth mother. This is not your fault, but I would have liked to see more in the affidavit from your lawyer setting out the steps that have been taken to find her.”

  “Your Lordship, we did put advertisements as well in two North London papers,” her lawyer interjected.

  “That may be appropriate for announcin
g silly divorces, but this is a far more fundamental matter. We are talking about a child.”

  He said there should be an attempt made to trace her through the Ministry of Social Security. Her lawyer said he did not think they gave out addresses of people. The judge agreed, but said, they often forwarded letters.

  “Mrs Ronson, I don’t want you to feel that I am putting you off. I do intend to grant the adoption, subject to satisfactory enquiries and reports in due course. If I take a chance and grant it now, there is a danger that the mother could turn up in three or four years time and challenge it and say she had not given her formal consent and that adequate efforts had not been made to contact her.”

  He decided to hear the case again in six months time, not a year and assured Marjorie he was happy with her care of Rosie. He was granting her custody of her in the meantime.

  “She’s a lovely little girl.” The judge said beaming at Rosie.

  Outside the Court Marjorie chastised her lawyer.

  “Why didn’t you put more in your affidavit, as the judge asked? He was highly critical of you in there. You could have affected my chances.”

  “My apologies, Mrs Ronson, but it is in your interests to bide your time. I’m afraid we now have to do as the judge asks and contact the mother.”

  Marjorie sighed whilst pulling her overcoat around her shoulders.

  “Miriam did say when I met her that if I ever needed to contact her, that if I sent a letter with her surname Sullivan-Cody to Cork, it would get to her as she is the only person with that surname in that area.”

  “Then lets try that then.” Her lawyer replied.

  “Wait,” said Marjorie in a panic. “Miriam stressed that any letter sent should mention nothing about the baby, as it might be opened by the parents by mistake.”

  “Don’t worry, we will be discreet.”

  And with that Marjorie walked with a heavy heart home thinking that once Miriam was contacted there was no knowing how she would react to Marjorie’s situation.

  MIRIAM 1969

  MEDITERRANEAN