Читать книгу A Part of Me - Anouska Knight - Страница 9

Five years later

AS FAR AS uncomfortable experiences went I was pretty good in the saddle, I thought. Calm. Controlled. Cool under fire. And these traits had come in handy over several tumultuous years working within a fast-paced architectural practice. But this? This gave a whole new meaning to the term ‘pressure’. This whole set-up was geared towards breaking a person. A relentless tap-tap-tapping at the walls of our resolve, thinly veiled attempts to expose our weaknesses so that they could finally tell us what I’d prepared myself to hear all along – that we weren’t worthy, that we’d make awful parents, and that this had all been a horrific waste of everybody’s time.

A heavy wooden door clattered shut somewhere off the corridor where we sat, fidgeting like apprehended schoolchildren. We both listened to the patter of daintily heeled shoes as they echoed away from us to some other inhospitable depth of the building. I knew it wasn’t Anna, she’d been wearing flats when she’d briefed us this morning. I’d watched her tapping them nervously on our behalf before the panel had called us in, then I’d focused my eyes on the bejewelled toes of those same shoes while James answered the questions each panel member had put to him.

I let out a long silent breath, surprised that I couldn’t see a grey plume as it hit the chilly air in this fusty old building. James’s knee resumed its impatient bobbing. That James, the epitome of unflappability, was this jumpy only jangled my own nerves.

Every other meeting, interview and session had been conducted in a purpose-built room. A conference suite, an office, our home, even – where there were carpets and coffee and heating. But the Town Hall, this last checkpoint on the home straight, was about as inviting as a Dickensian institution.

I checked my watch. It had been nearly fifteen minutes since the panel had dismissed us to await our fate out here. You could cram an impressive amount of mental self-flagellation into that timeframe, I’d found. I knew James didn’t want to hear it, but I needed to blurt out something, and words seemed preferable to anxious blubbing.

‘I shouldn’t have said we’ve been looking at bigger houses,’ I groaned quietly.

Exasperatedly, James pushed a flop of dark blond hair back from his face and gave his left knee a reprieve from all the jiggling. I’d made him grow his hair out a little after one of the other women on the prep course had said we looked corporate. She’d made it sound like a swear word. James couldn’t understand why I was taking any sort of advice from a woman who was actually choosing single-parenthood. When she’d told us that she was hoping to adopt more than one child by herself, James had whispered that even if she made it to the medical stage, they’d probably find she was certifiably nuts.

I hadn’t noticed until just now, but longer hair didn’t really suit James.

He turned to face me. ‘They didn’t ask us anything that they hadn’t already read in our report, okay? And there’s no rule that says we can’t move house one day.’ James’s right knee took over the bobbing.

I tucked precision-straightened hair neatly behind my ears and began to fiddle with one of the small diamond studs he’d bought me for my twenty-ninth last month. One of the few nights we’d actually gone out together and not fallen out.

‘Stability, James. That’s what they want to hear, not that we’re planning to up sticks and disrupt our home—’

James held a hand aloft to cut me off. ‘Amy, forget it. We’re not doing this again. We’ve jumped through every sodding hoop imaginable over the last year just to get to this point. We’ve just met ten people in there we don’t know from Adam, yet they know every last sodding thing there is to know about us.’ He was already pointing an accusing finger down the corridor towards the room where the panel were still discussing and dissecting our lives. ‘They’ve been through our income, our childhoods … our sodding body mass indexes, for Christ’s sake! If it’s all going to come tumbling down now because you said you’d like a bigger garden one day then they can shove it up their pedantic arses.’

‘Shh! Someone might hear you!’ I sputtered, nervously eyeing both ends of the corridor. James stood. I watched as he moved away from me over to the tired lead window opposite. This journey hadn’t been an easy one, but on some level I knew that James had found it harder than I had, and ultimately would find it easier to walk away from, if it was about to come to that.

We’re nearly there, I wanted to say to him, but everything about him looked so uneasy. He’d never wear that jumper again. I’d bought it from M&S because walking in wearing his favoured Ralph Lauren might’ve been read as ‘part-time yacht-enthusiast’, when what we were aiming for was ‘full-time crayon-enthusiast’. I blew out a cheekful of air. Subliminal messages through the medium of casual knitwear – how was that for cruising close to certifiable nuttiness?

James shook his head as he looked out onto the dismal March morning. We’d asked for the earliest slot available, I knew I’d be a wreck otherwise. James began jostling the keys in his trouser pocket before turning cool blue eyes on me.

‘Anna wouldn’t have put us forward to panel if she didn’t think we were ready, you know that. Just … try to relax, okay?’ I nodded, reluctantly leaving my earring alone before I pinged it onto the floor again. I decided to chew at my lower lip instead. There was less chance of that ending up on the floor and, unlike diamonds, skin was self-regenerating. Beyond the corner of the corridor, softly striding footsteps were making their way towards us. James’s chest rose with a deep intake of breath as he turned back to the window.

The Chair of the panel, a forty-something chap with thinning hair and a name I’d been too flustered to catch, rounded the corner towards us. Awkwardly, I got to my feet and straightened my clothes. I’d gone for a pale blue blouse and pretty cardigan in lavender. Depending on how the next few minutes went, I probably wouldn’t wear them again either.

‘Miss Alwood, Mr Coffrey. Would you like to come back in?’

I gave a small, unassuming smile and convinced myself he had smiled back. I looked to James for affirmation, but he was steely eyed.

I watched Mr Chair’s elbow patches all the way back into the musty room where Anna sat at one of three chairs set in front of the panel. We’d got lucky when Anna was assigned to us. Not everyone liked their social worker but, thankfully, we did. I waited for her to look at us, but only the back of her short blonde ponytail faced our way. My stomach churned. Beyond Anna, the panel of four men and six women looked as though they were sitting at the top table of a wedding reception, with a very small congregation of three with which to share their joy.

I crossed my fingers at my side. Please, let them be about to share joy.

‘Hey, take a seat,’ Anna whispered, gesturing at the chairs we’d sweated out our interrogation on just half an hour ago. I was sure I saw one of the panel members, the adoptee, smile too, but it was so much warmer in here the temperature change was making me feel fuzzy at the edges.

The Chair settled himself into his seat again and fumbled at his papers the way officials with official business like to do. ‘Mr Coffrey, Miss Alwood.’ A new thudding was taking up residence in my chest. ‘We know this can be a rather fraught experience, so we don’t wish to subject you to any further unnecessary tension.’ James reached over and took my hand assertively in his. We’ll be okay. Whatever happens, we’ll work through it.

‘Therefore, we would like to offer you both our congratulations. It is this panel’s recommendation that you be approved as joint adoptive parents to a child under the age of four years.’

Thud, thud, thud …

The pulsing inside my chest was the only thing telling me I hadn’t keeled over and died on the spot, but even that was beginning to wane. The trembling inside me was being swallowed up by something else, something shocky and numb – a sensation sweeping through my insides chased by a warmer, welcome feeling …

Joy.

Could this really be happening? Finally, were we nearly there? I glanced vacantly through each of the warm expressions of the panel members. Had I correctly understood what had just been said?

I looked at Anna. Her face was rosy with controlled delight, which made something loosen in me, some invisible hawser rope that had kept me steady all these past months, suddenly letting me go enough that I might keel over yet. James nuzzled a kiss against my cheek, his thumb chasing the first wet track as it coursed down my face. He said something to Anna as a broken message began organising itself in my mind.

We’re going to have a child. Somewhere out there, our little boy or girl is waiting for us to bring them home.

Skirting along the periphery of my thoughts, I was aware that Anna was saying something in reply to James. She patted my back reassuringly, just a small gesture of comfort but enough to trigger the domino effect. I hadn’t meant to dissolve so whole-heartedly in the middle of that room, to be so completely disabled by my own happiness and rendered such a useless blubbering mess, but after twenty-one months of being cool under fire I couldn’t keep it inside another second.

There was room for only one thought, one thread of coherence in my mind, and each time it lapped around my brain, so began a new wave of uncontrollable sobs, muffled only by James’s M&S jumper. The jewel-like embellishments on the toes of Anna’s shoes shone and danced like a kaleidoscope refracted through my rather impressive deluge of tears, and then James leant back in to my hair and said the words. Said them out loud so that we could hear the truth in them.

‘We’re going to be parents.’