A Baby's Cry (21 page)

Rihanna shook her head and I did likewise. ‘My agency will be satisfied with my notes,’ Jill confirmed.

‘Good. That’s one less piece of paperwork,’ Cheryl said, trying to lighten the mood. Rihanna briefly smiled again but it was a smile of politeness and I could see the tension beneath.

I’d no idea what to expect now in respect of the format the meeting would take, as I’d never attended a meeting like this before, but I guessed that as Rihanna had come here to learn about Harrison, I’d be asked to speak first and tell her about him. I was nearly right.

‘As you asked for this meeting,’ Cheryl said, looking at Rihanna, ‘perhaps you would like to tell us what would be most beneficial for you? I would suggest we hear from Cathy first and then you ask her any questions you have.’

Rihanna met my gaze and said quietly, almost timidly: ‘I just want you to tell me about Harrison, please.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said.

‘Jill and I will be writing,’ Cheryl said to me, ‘but don’t let that put you off.’

I nodded, and then looked at Rihanna. ‘Shall I start with Harrison’s routine?’ I asked. ‘From when he wakes in the morning?’

I saw Rihanna hesitate and then she said quietly. ‘Could you go back and tell me about when you collected him from the hospital, please? I’d like to hear that. I should have stayed to meet you. I was sorry I didn’t, but at the time I couldn’t face it. I was so upset.’

‘Yes,’ I said, touched she wanted this detail. ‘I’ll have to think back and remember. Stop me if you have any questions.’ And I wondered what I could possibly have been afraid of in meeting this gentle, quietly spoken woman who wanted nothing more than to hear about her son.

‘I was told I should collect Harrison at one o’clock,’ I began, looking at Rihanna as I spoke. ‘I made sure I was prepared. I had the carry car seat to take Harrison home in ready and also a bag with a bottle of milk in case he needed feeding. If I’m honest I was quite nervous driving to the hospital because I thought you and Harrison’s father might be there. I wasn’t sure how you would react to me or what I could say to you. When I arrived on the ward and found you weren’t there I was relieved but also a little disappointed; I would have liked to have met you too.’ A small flash of gratitude crossed Rihanna’s face in acknowledgement that we’d both had similar feelings about meeting.

‘I went to the end of the ward,’ I continued, ‘where Harrison’s crib was, and when I saw him my heart melted. He was such a cute baby – he still is. The nurses were making a fuss of him. He looked gorgeous in the little white hat and shawl you wrapped him in. He was asleep but he had one little hand pressed to his chin. He still does that when he’s in a deep sleep as though he’s thinking hard.’

‘Yes,’ Rihanna said softly. ‘One of the photographs you sent me shows him doing that. I have that photo and some others propped up by my bed.’ I saw her eyes mist, and my heart went out to her.

‘The nurse told me you’d fed and changed Harrison before you left,’ I said, continuing. ‘So I knew he wouldn’t need feeding again until we were home. I remember I was reluctant to pick him up to begin with, as he seemed so small and fragile. But I carefully lifted him into the baby seat and he didn’t wake. I noticed he was wearing a blue sleepsuit very similar to the one I’d bought. I haven’t used any of those I bought as I always make sure he’s dressed in the clothes you sent.’

‘Thank you, Cathy,’ Rihanna said quietly. ‘That means a lot to me.’ Jill and Cheryl nodded as they wrote.

I hoped I wasn’t giving Rihanna too much detail but I was trying to give her a clear picture of her son, which is what I thought she wanted, so I continued with my recollections of that day. ‘I left the hospital and then spent a long time in the car park making sure the car straps were fastened and Harrison’s car seat was secure. I still do that now – double check his harness and seatbelt very carefully. Harrison slept all the way home and then once we arrived he woke and I gave him a bottle and changed him. We very quickly fell into a routine which has largely continued today,’ I said. Then I talked about Harrison’s average day – beginning with his five o’clock bottle and finishing with his late-night feed. ‘Harrison sleeps well,’ I said. ‘But when he’s awake he is very alert, and interested in all that is going on around him. He is a bright baby and I know he is going to be very intelligent when he grows up. He gurgles a lot as though he’s trying to talk, and also has a funny little habit of wrinkling up his nose, which is so cute.’

‘Does he?’ Rihanna asked suddenly, interrupting me. ‘My father does that – wrinkles his nose. It’s a family trait. I’ve been told my grandfather did it too.’

I paused, wondering if Rihanna was going to say any more about this inherited characteristic, which had obviously taken her by surprise and touched her, but she didn’t, so after a moment I continued.

‘I have Harrison weighed and checked every week at the clinic and I update Jill and Cheryl on his progress. I understand Cheryl passes that information on to your solicitor, who tells you.’

Rihanna nodded.

‘I’ve given Rihanna an update today,’ Cheryl added.

I now wanted to reassure Rihanna that as well as looking after Harrison’s physical needs – feeding, changing and bathing him, etc. – we were also looking after his emotional needs, and indeed we were very attached to him. I thought Rihanna would find it reassuring to know Harrison was loved and cherished. ‘Harrison fitted very easily into my family,’ I said. ‘He soon became one of our family and we all adore him. My children treat him as their little brother, and my parents, and my brother and his wife, think the world of him. Harrison’s adorable and we love him, although we appreciate that at some point he will leave us to go to his forever family.’ I saw Rihanna’s eyes mist and I realized I’d said too much or the wrong thing.

‘I wish you could keep him,’ she blurted, her face creasing. ‘You would take such good care of him. You would love him as I would have done, I know you would.’

A lump rose in my throat and I didn’t know what to say. Jill came to my rescue. ‘Sadly, that won’t be possible,’ she said kindly. ‘Cathy is a foster carer and has two children of her own. Her job is to give Harrison the best possible care until he is adopted, and she does that very well.’

‘But it’s more than a job to Cathy,’ Rihanna said. ‘I can tell she loves him. I know if you asked her to keep Harrison and adopt him she would.’

I didn’t say anything. I looked at Rihanna as her tears fell and I felt my own eyes mist.

‘Plans for Harrison’s adoption are progressing well,’ Cheryl said evenly to Rihanna. ‘The adoption team will be finalizing their choice of a family for Harrison shortly and then he will be settled.’

‘But I don’t know the family,’ Rihanna said, desperation in her voice and wiping her hand over her eyes. ‘And from what you’ve told me I am unlikely to know them, or even meet them. I feel I know Cathy and her family, and I know they will love and care for Harrison just as I would have done. I can tell: I can see it in her face, hear it in her voice. She loves Harrison as she loves her own children. Why don’t you ask her to adopt him?’

There was silence as Rihanna’s words hung in the air; then Cheryl said: ‘It is not possible.’

Rihanna delved into her handbag and, taking out a tissue, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. I sniffed and just about managed to stem my own tears. I couldn’t look at Rihanna; I couldn’t bear to see her pain. Rihanna was right: of course I would have kept Harrison had the social services asked me to. But Harrison was being found a two-parent family to match his cultural identity and I knew I would never be asked to adopt him. There was a list of prospective adopters who were far better-suited than me.

Rihanna was still crying openly while dabbing her eyes and I wondered why no one was comforting her. Reaching across the circle I took her hand. ‘Don’t cry,’ I said. ‘Please don’t cry. Harrison is doing very well. I know you love him. I love him too, but so will his permanent family. I know he will be well looked after and happy wherever he is. Please try not to upset yourself …’ My voice trailed off and I swallowed hard.

Rihanna had one hand in mine and was holding a tissue to her face with the other. I couldn’t just sit there and watch her cry; it was not in my nature. Rising from my chair I stood beside her and put my arm around her shoulders. She rested her head against me like a child and continued to cry openly. All that could be heard for some moments was the sound of Rihanna’s sobs. Jill looked close to tears herself while Cheryl, not knowing what to say or do, looked embarrassed. I held Rihanna, feeling her pain and sorrow personally, and with no idea why this woman with so much love to give her child could not keep him.

After a few minutes Rihanna’s tears began to subside and she slowly lifted her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, wiping her eyes on the tissue. ‘I told myself I wouldn’t cry. I am so sorry.’

‘There’s no need to be sorry,’ Jill said kindly. ‘You have a right to cry.’

I returned to my chair and sat down, very close to tears myself.

‘We can speak further after this meeting,’ Cheryl said to Rihanna, finally patting her arm.

‘There’s no point,’ Rihanna said bluntly, without looking at Cheryl. ‘You and I both know that.’

There was an awkward silence and I wondered if Rihanna would elaborate and give a clue as to why there was no other path open to her apart from having Harrison adopted, but she didn’t.

Presently Cheryl said to Rihanna: ‘Is there anything else you’d like to ask Cathy about Harrison while she’s here?’

Rihanna looked at me, her eyes now dry but still very, very sad. ‘Could you send me a few more photographs, please, before he leaves you? I won’t be allowed any once he is adopted.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, and drawing my bag on to my lap, I took out the envelope containing the recent photographs.

‘No sooner said than done,’ Jill quipped, but no one smiled.

I handed the envelope to Rihanna and watched as she lifted the flap and, taking out the photos, flicked through. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said gratefully, brightening a little. ‘They’re lovely. Hasn’t he grown! I thought he had when I saw him with you in the street. Oh, and doesn’t he look smart in that navy romper suit?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You chose his clothes well. Everyone we meet remarks on how smart he looks. And the cuddly panda and teddy you sent are at the foot of his cot,’ I added.

‘Thank you,’ Rihanna said quietly, and her face clouded again.

‘I’ll send more photos – for as long as Harrison is with me,’ I said.

‘And, Rihanna, you’ll have the one of you and Harrison together at the goodbye contact,’ Cheryl added.

Immediately I knew that was the wrong thing to say; so too did Cheryl and Jill. Rihanna stuffed the photographs back into the envelope and, jumping up, fled from the room in tears.

‘That was tactless of me,’ Cheryl said. ‘But I thought it might help.’

Cheryl had been referring to the photograph that would be taken at what is known as the ‘goodbye contact’. This is the last time the parent (or parents) of a child who is being adopted is allowed to see their child.

Jill shook her head sadly. ‘I don’t think Rihanna will be up to attending a goodbye contact,’ she said. Cheryl agreed.

‘I know I couldn’t,’ I said. ‘It’s the stuff of nightmares: to have to smile for a photograph knowing you are saying goodbye to your child forever.’

Chapter Twenty

An Ideal World

T
he three of us, Jill, Cheryl and me, stayed where we were – in the meeting room – for a few minutes, to see if Rihanna would return, but she didn’t. Jill and Cheryl then put away their notepads and pens and I checked my mobile; there were no missed calls but one reassuring text message from Chris:
Harrison is fine
. I thought it was sweet of her to text. Cheryl then thanked Jill and me for coming and left the room to go to her office, which was in another part of the building. Jill and I also left the room and slowly made our way down the stairs, across reception and into the car park, both of us sombre and subdued.

‘At least I was able to give Rihanna the photographs,’ I said in the car park, wishing I’d been able to do more.

‘Yes,’ Jill agreed. ‘And you were able to reassure her that Harrison is doing well and is contented, which should ease her worries.’

I shrugged despondently. I could tell that Jill thought as I did – that my meagre reassurance was small recompense for the huge loss and grief Rihanna was feeling.

‘Anyway, thanks for arranging Chris to babysit,’ I said as we prepared to part.

‘You’re welcome,’ Jill said. ‘Take care, and phone me if you need me.’

‘I will.’ We went our separate ways, downcast and deep in thought.

The picture of Rihanna – so dignified yet so very upset – stayed with me for the rest of the day, and indeed for most of that week. Sometimes an image is so poignant that it can seal itself into your mind and it is very difficult to shake it off, and so it was with Rihanna: polite, gentle, quietly spoken, grateful, but so desperately unhappy. I was sure I would have liked Rihanna anyway, but as she was the mother of the child I was looking after my affinity and empathy towards her were even stronger. I felt she would have made a wonderful mother – kind, caring and loving – and not knowing why she couldn’t keep Harrison made her grief almost impossible for me to come to terms with.

By the end of the week I’d worried myself so much that I telephoned Jill and said: ‘Rihanna wouldn’t do anything silly and harm herself, would she? I think she’s desperate.’

Jill took a more professional and objective approach. ‘I’m sure Cheryl is aware of Rihanna’s emotional state,’ she said. ‘And she’ll offer appropriate help if and when she feels it is necessary.’

I knew I had to try to let go of my worries for Rihanna and concentrate on Harrison, but it wasn’t easy.

By this time Harrison was regularly sleeping through the night, so at the end of the week I moved his cot into his own bedroom as I’d planned. The first two nights he took a while to settle, clearly realizing there’d been a big change in his surroundings, but on the third night he settled more easily and after that he was fine. It was strange for me too, not having Harrison in my bedroom and hearing his little sighs and movements during the night. But like Harrison I adjusted, although I often checked on him during the night, just to make sure he was covered and comfortable.