A Baby's Cry (22 page)

The same week Harrison had his second vaccination and as before he cried when the needle went in but soon recovered after a cuddle. I continued to have him weighed every week at the clinic and he continued to grow and flourish. I took plenty of photographs – for Harrison’s Life Story book, for his adoptive family, for Rihanna and for me to keep. During October the sun lost its warmth and the air began to chill as autumn set in. I put away the light jacket Harrison had been wearing and began using the thicker padded suit Rihanna has sent in the case.

I was stacking the clothes Harrison had outgrown in the bottom of the wardrobe in his bedroom. Usually when a child is in care any clothes the child outgrows that have been bought by their natural family are offered back to the family, as legally the clothes belong to them. However, while I appreciated why this was done it had always seemed cruel to me: to return the child’s clothes to the parents but not the child – what an upsetting reminder of the child they had lost! And to return Harrison’s first-year clothes to Rihanna, which she’d so lovingly chosen but had never seen him wear, when he would shortly be adopted, was a cruelty I couldn’t contemplate. So I continued to stack his outgrown clothes at the bottom of his wardrobe in the hope that they might simply disappear.

In November Harrison had his third vaccination, which completed the first course. The next vaccination wasn’t due for another eight months, when he would be one year old and very likely settled with his adoptive family. Harrison’s second LAC review was also scheduled for November and, as before, it was held at my house.

It began at eleven o’clock, when Harrison had just woken from his mid-morning nap, and he was very pleased to see everyone. Jill arrived first, then five minutes later Cheryl and Viera (from the adoption team) arrived together, followed by Tom Gray, who was chairing the meeting as he had before.

I made us all coffee and took it through to the sitting room, where once everyone had finished making a fuss of Harrison, Tom opened the meeting with introductions. He asked me to speak first and I gave an update on Harrison – his progress, development and any significant events since his last review. Tom made notes as I spoke, and I said Harrison was alert, reaching the developmental milestones as he should; was eating and sleeping well; and was now in a room of his own and sleeping through the night. I said that following the health visitor’s advice I would be introducing solid food into Harrison’s diet soon, and that he had completed the first series of vaccinations in the childhood immunization programme. I then passed Tom the red book and he noted the dates Harrison had had his vaccinations and also his current weight.

Thanking me, Tom then asked Jill if she had anything to add, and she said that as my support social worker she visited regularly and that Harrison was being well looked after.

‘Yes, I can see he is,’ Tom said, unable to resist a smile at Harrison, who was waving his arms as though trying to attract Tom’s attention.

Tom then asked Cheryl for her report and also asked if there had been any contact between Harrison and his mother since the last review. Cheryl said there hadn’t, but that Rihanna had received photographs of Harrison and had also – at her request – met me at the beginning of October.

‘So you have met Harrison’s mother?’ Tom said to me. ‘How did that meeting go?’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Although Rihanna was very upset.’

‘And she hasn’t been in your street again?’ he asked me.

‘Not as far as I’m aware.’

Tom nodded and made a note, and then Cheryl gave the rest of her report, which was short. As at the previous review her report contained many omissions (due to the high level of confidentiality), but this time Tom didn’t question Cheryl or press her for the missing information, so I guessed he’d met Cheryl and her team manager prior to the review and had been updated on any confidential information. I also knew that this information, as before, would not be appearing in the minutes of the LAC review, which were circulated to all those involved in Harrison’s case.

Tom thanked Cheryl and then asked Viera to give her report, which was on the progress of the adoption. Viera said she had seen all the couples who had been shortlisted – as being suitable to adopt Harrison – and she had now narrowed the list down to two. She said both couples were excellent matches for Harrison and she hoped to finalize her decision and have her report ready by the end of November.

‘So you won’t be taking it to the matching panel this month?’ Tom queried, aware that that had been Viera’s original plan.

‘No,’ she said. ‘We’re slightly behind. The panel doesn’t meet in December, so I anticipate going to the matching panel in January, and the adoption panel in February. We can then start introducing Harrison to his adoptive family straight after the adoption panel meets. So he should be living with his family by the end of February or beginning of March at the latest.’

Tom made a note and then, glancing from Viera to Cheryl, asked: ‘Will you be offering Rihanna a goodbye contact?’

Cheryl answered: ‘I have already mentioned it to Rihanna, and the department will make a formal offer – through her solicitor – nearer the time, but we are not expecting Rihanna to attend a goodbye contact. She would find it too upsetting.’

Tom nodded and made another note on his pad. Then, there being no other business, he said: ‘The next review is due in six months. But from what Viera has told us Harrison will almost certainly be with his adoptive family by then. I therefore suggest we set a date for the next review and confirm or cancel it nearer the time. Is the second of May all right for everyone?’

Viera, Cheryl and Jill checked in their diaries for next year and confirmed it was, while I made a note of the date on a piece of paper which I tucked into my fostering folder, to transfer to my diary when I bought one for next year.

Tom thanked us all for coming, thanked me for the coffee and then left with Cheryl and Viera. After I’d seen them out I returned to the sitting room, where Jill was bouncing Harrison gently on her lap.

‘It sounds as though Viera is very close to finalizing the adoption plans,’ Jill said positively, as I sat on the sofa.

‘Yes,’ I agreed thoughtfully.

Jill glanced at me. ‘In the New Year you’ll have to start preparing the kids and yourself for Harrison leaving.’ Jill wasn’t being unkind, but part of her role was to make sure the foster family was prepared when they had to say goodbye to a foster child; otherwise it could have a negative impact, not only on the carer and her family but also on the child who was leaving, who would sense their negativity.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘But we’ll have a lovely Christmas all together first before I think about Harrison going. I’m looking forward to Harrison’s first Christmas.’

Jill glanced at me again. ‘So what’s wrong?’

I shrugged. ‘I like Christmas but I feel very sad for Rihanna. I began Christmas shopping yesterday and bought some little presents for Harrison – a feeding beaker and plate, and a little jumper. They all have
Baby’s First Christmas
printed on them. I can’t help thinking how sad Rihanna must be in the build-up to Christmas. She won’t be part of Harrison’s first Christmas – or any of his Christmases, come to that. Christmas is such a family time and I can’t begin to imagine how awful it must be for those separated from their families. I take it Cheryl hasn’t heard any more from Rihanna since that meeting in October?’

‘No, or she would have said.’

I was silent for a moment, and then added lamely: ‘I’ll obviously take plenty of photographs of Harrison’s first Christmas, so at least Rihanna will have those to remember it by.’

Jill paused from bouncing Harrison and looked at me carefully. I felt a lecture coming on. ‘Cathy, in an ideal world no child would ever be abused, neglected or separated from their parents. No parent would ever lose their child. In an ideal world every child would wake on Christmas morning in a nice warm bed, surrounded by sacks of presents, with two loving parents asleep in the room next door. But sadly this is not an ideal world and is never going to be. All we can do is to try to make the best of our little bit of the world. Giving Harrison a lovely Christmas and taking photographs is the best you can do for him and his mother.’

I met her gaze. ‘I know, Jill. And we will have a lovely Christmas. I just hope Rihanna finds some peace too.’

The build-up to Christmas, having begun at the beginning of November, gathered momentum throughout the month so that by the start of December, Christmas was everywhere. Adrian and Paula were busy rehearsing their school Christmas play as well as letting me know what presents they hoped Father Christmas would bring them. The advertisements on television were dominated by Christmas, and the question on most people’s lips was:
What are you doing for Christmas?
I was now shopping and wrapping presents at every opportunity, as well as planning what we would eat over the festive season. My parents and my brother and his wife would be coming for Christmas Day, and Adrian and Paula would be seeing their father on Boxing Day, as they had the year before. Harrison was now eating solid food (which I pulped in the food processor), and I planned to do the same with his Christmas dinner so that he could experience all the new tastes.

On Sunday 4 December, I bowed to pressure from Adrian and Paula and agreed to put up the Christmas decorations early, rather than waiting until the following weekend as I’d planned. So while Harrison had his morning nap I braved the loft again and, keeping a watchful eye for any spiders, I brought down the boxes of decorations which we’d carefully packed away the year before. I returned to the loft for the Christmas tree which, while artificial, was very realistic and difficult to tell from a real tree, except that it didn’t drop pine needles everywhere. Adrian and Paula were very excited, to put it mildly, and helped me carry the boxes downstairs, where we opened them in the sitting room. It was magical discovering all the glittery decorations again – the tinsel, garlands, a model of Father Christmas on his sleigh, glass baubles and so on – and I was soon in the Christmas spirit. I went up the ladder and began hanging the ceiling decorations while Adrian and Paula assembled and then decorated the Christmas tree. When Harrison woke from his nap I carried him into the sitting room and sat him on the floor so that he could watch.

He was now able to sit unaided without toppling over and he soon became enthralled by the activity, as the brightly coloured decorations appeared around him. At five months old he had a wide range of sounds and his gurgling had developed into babbling, which would eventually lead to words. Each time Adrian and Paula took a Christmas decoration from the box and before they hung it on the tree they showed it to him and said the word a couple of times:
Star, star; angel, angel; holly, holly; bauble, bauble
and so on. With each new word Harrison grinned, pursed his lips and then made a noise as he tried to repeat the word, at which we all clapped.

By three o’clock the house was looking very festive. I returned the empty boxes to the loft and then made dinner. After we’d eaten we grouped around the television and watched a Christmas film, which had become a little family tradition. Although we were now in the Christmas spirit I was aware that the children had school the following day, so at seven o’clock, despite protests and requests to stay up later, I began the bath and bedtime routine. Adrian and Paula were still very excited – counting the days to Christmas Eve and reminiscing about last Christmas. Eventually the children were in bed; by eight o’clock Paula and Harrison were sound asleep, and Adrian was finishing a chapter in his book before switching off his light. I went downstairs and made a cup of tea, which I took into the sitting room. I sat on the sofa and admired the decorated room; it looked very pretty. I knew I was tired, but I hadn’t realized how tired I was, or that I was nodding off to sleep, until I came to with a start, woken by a noise.

My eyes shot to the clock on the mantelpiece. It was 9.10. I was immediately on my feet, going out of the sitting room and down the hall, assuming one of the children had woken and called out and I’d subconsciously heard them. But at the foot of the stairs I jumped as the front doorbell rang – one short sharp press. I realized then it must have been the doorbell that had woken me, for it was still all quiet upstairs. I wondered who could be calling at this time. I wasn’t expecting a visitor and it seemed too late for a door-to-door salesperson or charity collector; possibly it was carol singers but I couldn’t hear any singing. As a woman living alone I was cautious about answering the door late at night and always checked the security spyhole first. If it was someone I didn’t know I didn’t open the door.

Still slightly light-headed from having woken with a start and then rushing down the hall, I was also a little anxious, for like many people I worried that a late phone call or a visitor could bring bad news – of a road accident or even a death in the family. All manner of thoughts flashed through my mind as I took the few steps to the front door. Although it was pitch dark outside, the porch light, which I left on all night, would allow me to see the caller through the spyhole. I slid the circular flap to one side and peered through. It took a moment for me to focus and to see the woman at my door. She was wearing a headscarf and looking down, so I couldn’t see her face. It wasn’t until a second later when she looked up that I saw it was Rihanna.

Chapter Twenty-One

Honour

M
y heart thudded and all manner of anxious thoughts rushed through my mind as I looked into the security spyhole and at Rihanna. She couldn’t see me – the front door was solid wood – but she could see the hall light shining through the small window above the door. As I watched she moved her gaze from the door and looked down again so that I couldn’t see her face. But there was no mistake: it was certainly her. I watched her for a second longer and then took a step back.