by J.A. Skinner
Chapter 24
Friday 30th May
Most of your genes are present in two copies: one from your mother and one from your father. The faulty gene that causes Huntington's disease is dominant. This means that if you inherit a copy of this gene from either parent, you will go on to develop the disease at some point in your life.
‘Morning Aileen, how are you,’ I say as I step into the office Friday morning.
‘Much better for seeing you, sugar toes, but glad it’s Friday to tell you the truth. I must be getting old.’
Aileen must be near retiring age, but it’s never crossed my mind that she would ever stop working here, she seems part of the bricks. She cheers my day, even the worst ones, with her ‘sugar pies’ and ‘monkey toes’. I love it.
‘I think the expression is; you’re not getting older, you’re getting better.’
‘Behave yourself Tommy, it’s time you were courting a nice young woman and not flirting with me.’ She says as she hands me my mail.
I won’t be staying in the office long, I have to drive to Fife for the adoption meeting today. It’s a long drive but a good expense claim. I’m dressed in my best to make a good impression, black trousers, blue shirt, a dark blue tie, which was a present from mum and a smart navy blue blazer from my dead father’s wardrobe. Thank goodness they don’t go out of style. We had a wee emotional moment this morning when I called in to tell mum I would be late tonight, not to bother cooking any dinner for me. She was speechless for a beat when I walked into her kitchen, then tears came flooding to her eyes and she said that just for a second she thought it was her sweetheart Jim standing there. She thinks I look very like my Dad, but it must have been the jacket that did it, as he was much better looking than me. She has kept a lot of his things and I always thought this was crazy, but now I feel good in his jacket, it’s like his spirit’s close.
I sat and had a cup of tea with mum and inevitably she spoke of Dad and how cruel it was for him to die so young. Sadly, I only have child-like memories of my dad, but Mum makes him come alive again for me with her stories. Today she tells me about one time we all went to Glasgow to Rouken-Glen Park. I was about four and it was the first time I had been on a train. It was a big excitement for me. I have a vague memory of the sounds of the train and of running on the grass in the park chasing a ball, and dad running beside me. The sun was shining and the excited shouts of a football game were all around me.
This had been the ideal opening for me to tell Mum that I also had had a family day of sorts in Glasgow, different park, same purpose.
‘I’ve something to tell you Mum, I’m seeing a girl from Carfin,’ her face lit up with a smile.
‘Oh Tommy, how lovely, but I won’t ask too many questions, I know you hate that,’ she said.
‘I went to Glasgow Green last week on Sunday, with her and her children.’
She tried to keep the smile going, bless her, but she had an anxious look in her eyes now.
‘Children, son, my goodness, that sounds a wee bit complicated,’ she said, ‘you’re not used to children, are you?’
What she means is, don’t bloody complicate your life with children that aren’t yours, and for God’s sake find yourself a nice young wife, and give me proper grandchildren. Of course she doesn’t use strong language and tries hard not to interfere with my life, but you have to read between the lines. I love her dearly, but sometimes feel I am a wee bit of a disappointment to her in the dynasty building department.
‘Don’t worry about me, its early days yet and you know my track record, early days is mostly as far as I get.’ I get up and give her a quick peck on the cheek and head for the door, ‘Your gabbing is keeping me late for work now.’
‘You know I don’t ask much about your work, but this must be an important day if you’ve got your fathers jacket on, so good luck with whatever it is,’ she says.
‘There’s no harm in telling you Mum that we might have twin babies for a really nice couple to adopt, decisions could be made by the end of the day.’
Oh, Holy mother, how wonderful. Do your best son, I’ll say a wee prayer for everybody.’
She hugs me fiercely and I make it to the door. I hope we don’t need too much divine intervention, but who knows, Mum has been known to have good results. She has all sorts of spirits in her next world and friends who have died to call on for help
At my desk I make some phone calls and some contingency plans for a couple of my cases that might fall apart while I’m away for the day. My colleagues wish me luck as Harry and I head off to the wilds of Lothian Region.
Wang is dapper in a navy suit, blue shirt and some kind of old school tie. He looks like a small oriental politician, inscrutable and efficient. During most of the journey he practices a Zen meditation thing which looks a lot like sleeping, so we have a peaceful journey and no opportunity to build up a head of nerves. When we get to the Lothian social work offices we are shown into a good sized conference room which is empty except for a large table with about ten chairs round it. We are offered tea, coffee, juice or iced water by a very pretty girl, who introduced herself as the conference co-ordinator. She looked about fourteen and a half, but of course I’m getting old. This is already getting a bit too posh for us, they evidently do things in style in Fife.
Over the next ten minutes we sip our drinks and various members of the conference drift into the room and introduce themselves. The chairperson, a pleasant looking woman about fifty, smart in a dark pleated dress, a bit like a head teacher, and her note taker, another child-looking woman with a skirt so short it could disrupt the meeting. There is the social worker for the family, a woman like my mother, broad and substantial, but, with a hippy ethnic look just short of the headband or flowers. There is a policeman, not in uniform but standard police look, very short hair showing a bit of scalp, very clean ears, leather jacket and an air of impatience, as if he has far more important thing to do, maybe even catching some baddies. There is a tall gaunt man who is fiftyish, the adoption officer, an S.S.P.C.C. observer and a lawyer for the family, who will sit in the meeting but not actually take any part. I am beginning to wish this was my role too. I don’t want to let the side down by appearing dense, or flippant, things I am often accused of under stress. This is a brand new experience for me, as Harry keeps reminding me, none of my other adoption cases have ever got this far.
When we are all introduced and smiling as hard enough to cause cramps, we sit down and the chairperson skilfully takes over and gives us a detailed version of the story so far. At this point I am incredibly relieved to hear that the family are still positive on adoption.
The policeman, reading from his notes gives us the latest on the legal position of the young parents. No-one is pressing charges at the moment and the advice from the Fiscals office is that a charge and conviction would likely be straightforward, as nobody was denying anything, but as long as the girl maintained that she was not coerced into a sexual relationship, it might not be in her family’s best interest to take this route. Fair enough, they can say a prosecution would not be in the public interest but I have been known to argue the point that if a fifteen year old boy has sex with a girl his own age and there are no repercussions, the next time he might just fancy a fourteen year old, then a thirteen year old, and so on and so on till he qualifies as a paedophile, but I’m keeping my mouth shut today, that part of the story in not my worry. The others have their say, and then Harry is called on to introduce me and my adoption report. He is very good, keeps it short and to the point, tells them I am a very experienced social worker who has got to know the prospective adopters and the extended family well, if only he knew how well, and states that I am eminently qualified to represent the couple.
Now it’s my turn. I decide to use the first names of my clients to make it personal for these people who do not know Kate and Phillip except on the pages of my report. I try not to overdo it but make the point that they would be ideal baby adopters, and hav
e been preparing their lives for a long time for the arrival of a child. I end up by saying that although Kate and Phillip are a very special couple who are dedicated to having a family, to outsiders they would seem a very standard almost ordinary couple. But it would be this normal, stable, safe, and loving environment that would be perfect for nourishing children. The extended family would be completely supportive and the wider community was close knit and welcoming.
Enough is enough, I shut up then. Wang looks as if he is ready to give me a round of applause and I shoot him a warning look. We all sit quiet for a while.
The chairperson then says,
‘We have a few more things to consider,’
What? What things? You could hear a pin drop.
‘And we would like you to wait outside for a few minutes.’
Harry and I were no good with the waiting, we paced the room we had been sent to across the corridor from the conference room, and ended up bumping into each other. We opened the door to see if we could hear anything, closed it again in case we got caught trying to listen and in general got on each others nerves. After about ten minutes Harry offered me a sweet from a packet he had in his pocket. I took one but it was a horrible sugar free, additive free, eucalyptus type marble. Why do people buy these and not squishy toffee and chocolate éclairs for times of stressful need. I felt incredibly hungry with stress, and was just about to suggest sneaking out for a burger, when we were approached by the lovely mini-skirt and ushered back into the room.
I tried to read the faces round the room, they looked serious and pleasant, no clues. The chairperson apologised for keeping us waiting but they had had to consider one other couple for the twins. My heart stuttered, stopped, and I forgot to breath. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry’s knuckles whiten on his pen.
‘Unfortunately the other couple, although they are as ideal in every way as your couple are, live in close proximity to Cupar, and for various family reasons can’t relocate.’
I was able, with a bit of effort, to take a breath, she went on,
‘The birth family have asked that the children are adopted by a family outside Lothian, so we would ask you to approach Kate and Phillip, tell them the circumstances and offer these boys for permanent adoption.’
Harry took a hold of my arm and we both grinned a bit stupidly. I could have kissed everyone in the room including the policeman. She wasn’t finished yet,
‘Please get back to us as soon as possible, a phone call will do initially, as we all know, twins is not what they were expecting, and we have to be sure of their commitment. We will not separate these boys.’ This last comment sounded underlined.
‘Of course not,’ says Harry, ‘we will be in touch on Monday.’
We made a swift exit and almost ran to the car. I was so wound up I couldn’t start the car for a few moments. I am in unknown territory now; I’ve never been a part of something so exciting and life changing. Wang looks a bit thoughtful and says,
‘Is this like catching two birds with one stone?’
‘Almost, Harry,’ and I thank the baby Jesus he kept that one till after the meeting.
The lovely mini-skirt comes out of the building and walks up to the car. She makes a winding sign for me to open the window then she leans into the car, probably leaving a view from behind that could cause traffic jams,
‘Tell your Kate that these are not just the Cupar twins, like everyone keeps calling them, they are the most precious little angels I have ever seen. I saw them in hospital when we went for a meeting with the Mother. They were sound asleep in the same cot, top to tail absolutely gorgeous.’
‘I don’t they’ll take much persuading, but thank you very much, I’ll tell them what you said.’ I watch her walk, hips jiggling, across the car park, and think I must be getting old as all I can think of is telling Kate and Phillip the news.
We stopped for something to eat at a plastic, soulless motorway café, but we were too upbeat to notice the bad food. Harry has turned out to be a restful travelling companion, much to my relief he does the Zen thing a lot.
Back in Motherwell, we call into the office for an hour to check all is well for the weekend. Not much happening but there is a toddler with head injuries in Monklands casualty, which we note for information only. It hasn’t been called in as suspicious. Yet. Wang decides the out of hours weekend team can keep their eye on it and we head for Carfin.
Chapter 25
Still Friday 30th May