I could hardly breath as I showed Margaret to the door.
Before I learnt that Matthew had been given the position of Deputy Head, I had been so busy trying to reassure her that I was fit enough to come back to school that I hadn’t told her anything about the adoption.
I didn’t see any reason to change that after I finished talking to Mary Brookes.
‘You think you have my file?’ I had asked her.
‘Normally we wait until the birth certificate and adoption certificate come through first, but because you knew both parent’s names, this does seem like the correct one.’
‘I can be there just as soon as I get a taxi,’ I said. ‘My car’s off the road at the moment, it’s waiting for work to be done on it.’
‘Oh I’m afraid there’s normally a two or three week wait for appointments,’ she said. ‘I was going to check your availability on that kind of time-frame.’
‘I may not be here in two or three weeks time,’ I said. I didn’t want to tell her about the psychiatric assessment in case it made things more difficult for me. ‘Is there any way I could be seen sooner?’
She asked me to hold on for a minute. When she came back to the phone she was slightly breathless.
‘Could you come in tomorrow morning at 9am?’ she said.
That was when my breathlessness started.
After Margaret had gone I decided to have a midday shower. I needed to think.
I stood with my back to the shower and tipped my head back. The warm water caressed its way down my scalp, sending delightful shivers over my shoulders and back. The water wrapped a blanket of warmth around me, soothing away the stress.
The embarrassment of not getting the job I had wanted still rumbled around inside me. I wasn’t sure Matthew would be up to the job at all. He would no doubt muddle his way through, calling on everyone else to do things for him, then taking the credit when they were done. No doubt his number one priority would be sycophancy directed towards Margaret. That was one of the few things he was the ideal candidate for.
I felt for Margaret. It must have been difficult coming round to tell me. It was decent of her to do it face to face rather than over the phone.
Beneath the rumbling embarrassment lurked a much darker concern. I had only two or three weeks before I was to be examined for signs of mental instability. How did one make it through a psychiatric assessment unscathed? I had to find my birth parents as soon as possible.
And that brought me to Mary Brookes. From her voice, I pictured her to be in her early sixties, white hair and soft features. I had immediately felt comforted when she spoke. Reassured that I was in safe hands. Although it was the first time we had ever spoken she made me feel as though I was a cared-about friend.
And I realised that bubbling up, through the darkness and embarrassment, were feelings of excitement and joy. Like a new chapter of my life was opening. I hoped I didn’t fuck it up by attacking her during our meeting.
I signed in at the district council offices reception a little before 8:45am. I was early. I had Neil drop me into town on his way to work. Despite our agreement that I would spend the nights at my mum and dad’s, I had spent the night in my own home. My husband lay beside me in bed, but the gap between us was enormous.
I wished him a good day at the office, and as I slammed the car door shut he wished me a good day doing whatever I was doing.
I hadn’t told him about the adoption file. I wasn’t sure who he was at the moment. Wasn’t sure who I was either. Something made me want to hold back from him. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too.
I still loved him. And there was something in his eyes when he looked at me. We had a lot. But I had made the decision to close down a little. He didn’t need to know everything I was doing. Just as I was damn sure I didn’t know everything he was doing.
The digital clock on the wall flicked over to 9:00 as a woman with blond hair and red framed glasses walked up the corridor towards the waiting area. Although there were at least six other people seated around me, she looked directly at me, and as she drew near enough, spoke my name.
‘Mrs Marsden?’
She wore a green knitted cardigan and a brown scarf. I guessed her age to be about 45 years old. She carried a clipboard and a pale-green folder.
I stood up and smiled. She held out her hand.
‘I’m Mary Brookes,’ she said.
I shook her hand.
‘We’ll go through to meeting-room six.’
She didn’t move immediately, and I wondered if I was supposed to know where meeting-room six was. Did she want me to lead the way?
But she turned and started off down the corridor she had just appeared from. I followed her, trying to look intelligent enough to find a room on my own if I really had to.
Meeting-room six had a hand-written “Do Not Disturb” notice on an A4 sheet of paper. Someone had drawn a smiley-face which actually looked quite sinister. I though it might have been a warning of the consequences for ignoring the notice.
Mary pushed the door open and walked straight in.
The meeting-room was empty save for a wooden table and several chairs surrounding it. It was very clean. The blinds across the windows were open just enough to see daylight, but not enough to see the outside surroundings. The carpet tiles smelled new. The fibres scrunched underfoot. I wondered if Mary could smell them.
Mary offered me the chair at one end of the table, and she sat in one near me against the longer edge. It was a good position for eye contact and speaking, but not so good for me trying to look over at what was in her pale-green folder. It was almost as though she had planned it that way.
Although I had been completely wrong about her age and look, based upon our phone conversation, when she spoke to me a warmth started in my legs and moved with the current of the blood flowing through my body. Without realising it, she had instantly comforted me and turned my hidden pressure valve to open. Maybe she did realise.
She looked into my eyes. She was trying to read them. Or read me through them.
‘Thank you so much for coming in,’ she said. ‘May I call you Christine?’
I nodded.
‘This can be quite an emotionally charged time for those who were adopted. Seeing their file for the first time. Have you always known you were adopted?’
I shook my head.
‘I only found out recently,’ I said. ‘It was a bit of a shock.’
She nodded slowly. I thought I saw her grip on the folder tighten.
‘And how have you been, since finding out?’ she said.
‘OK, really. I was very upset at first, with my parents, you know, the ones who adopted me. But we’re really good now. They had wanted to tell me right from the word go. But they were advised not to.’
Mary frowned. She sat back in her seat. She looked a little uncomfortable.
‘By a relative?’
‘By an adoption worker,’ I said. ‘A social worker or something. They said that normally it’s up to the new parents whether they tell the child or not, but in my case they advised that I shouldn’t be told.’
Mary shook her head. It looked like a little shiver.
‘That’s very unusual,’ she said. ‘Do you know the reason for that?’
‘My mum and dad weren’t given a reason. They were just told that it might be for the best. And as they didn’t want to cause any problems, either for me or for the adoption, they did as they were advised.’
Mary held the folder upright in her hands. She touched the tip of her nose against the end of it. She lay the folder on the table and opened it. The flap on the folder prevented me from seeing the contents.
‘There isn’t very much in here I’m afraid. Were you expecting much?’
‘To be honest, this is so new to me, I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I thought that maybe there might be a letter from my birth parents for me, maybe something explaining why they put me up for adoption. I don’t know if that sort of thing
is normally in there?’
‘Back when you were adopted,’ she said. ‘Your birth parents would have been told that there would never be any contact with you in the future. They knew they were giving you up for good. They wouldn’t have been allowed to put in a letter for you. They would also have been told that there was no way that you would ever be able to trace them. It would be a new life for all concerned.’
I swallowed hard and tried to keep the tears at bay.
Mary noticed my efforts.
‘Can I ask how your life has been?’ she said. ‘What are your parents like?’
Between sobs I managed to tell her how wonderful my childhood was and how loving and caring my mum and dad were.
‘Obviously I have no idea what my life would have been like,’ I said. ‘But I have had a wonderful life.’
‘That’s lovely,’ she said.
She meant it.
‘And do you have any thoughts about the future?’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘About what you want to do with this new found information. Many adopted children want to try to find their birth parents, for example, although that’s not always the best thing necessarily. Or they might want to find siblings if there are any.’
Brothers and sisters? That hadn’t even entered my mind before now. Being an only child, I had assumed that that was how it was with my birth parents too.
‘Don’t brothers and sisters get adopted together?’ I said.
‘Sometimes. But often there is a large time gap between children. It’s not always possible to home siblings with each other. And it’s not uncommon, of course, for the same birth mother to have a different father for her other children.’
I was starting to build a picture in my mind. Of a desperate mother, mentally unstable, not able to keep her children or her partners. Endless children taken away from her, all with different fathers. Until eventually she was taken into care herself. Never allowed to have anymore children. Or partners.
‘But of course, your parents were married,’ Mary said. ‘How much do you know about them?’
I shook my head.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘My mother, I mean the mother that brought me up, thought she saw a sheet of paper with my birth parents’ names on it. That’s all I know. That and the fact that they were asked not to tell me about the adoption. I have been on the Internet looking up the names. But it’s very difficult to pinpoint who is who. There are so many people with the same name.’
Mary patted something in the folder. Presumably a sheet of paper.
‘The Internet can be so useful,’ she said. ‘But in cases of adoption, it can cause immense heartache. It’s so easy to trace people, with just a few clicks. And then people go rushing in, arranging to meet up, or even just turning up unannounced. We would strongly urge you to come through us if you feel you want to take things further. We can make things easier for you and your birth parents. You must remember that they thought there was never any way you could find out who they were, let alone meet them. It could be very unsettling for them.’
I wanted to say “Well they were the ones who gave me up. I’m the one who has been wronged. What about my feelings? I’m the one that matters here”.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I would never want to cause any difficulties for anyone.’
Mary smiled.
‘Shall we begin?’ she said.
59
Inheritance Page 56