Читать книгу A Long Way from Home - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 13

With their confidence in Dr Ciobanu restored, and looking forward to seeing Anastasia again, Elaine and Ian passed the following morning with a visit to the local supermarket. It wasn’t a large shop but it was crammed full of every type of good imaginable, including groceries, pharmaceuticals, underwear and socks, toys, beer, hardware and numerous miscellaneous items. There was also a box of Christmas decorations, even though it was only August. They bought bottled water, and some bread and ham for their lunch, as it was too expensive to keep eating in the hotel and there weren’t any cheap restaurants or cafés close by. They also found a colouring book, crayons and a doll for Anastasia. Lana would have been too young for these – they had packed nappies, baby food and first-year toys for her, which were still in the suitcase. They’d also brought with them clothes to fit Lana that would be far too small for Anastasia. They’d have to buy more here before the adoption, as they knew the children often arrived at court only with what they stood up in.

They returned to their hotel room to eat their picnic-style lunch, and then with Elaine carrying the bag of toys for Anastasia and Ian his briefcase containing the paperwork for Dr Ciobanu, they waited in the lobby for the cab. They’d booked it for fifteen minutes earlier than it needed to be, to allow time for it being late, so in fact it arrived to collect them on time. ‘I’ve cracked it!’ Ian joked to Elaine, and she laughed conspiratorially. How much happier they were now.

It was the same driver they’d had on their first trip to the orphanage and he greeted them like long lost friends, shaking their hands warmly and asking how they were. ‘Perhaps we’re tipping him too much,’ Ian whispered to Elaine as they climbed into the cab.

But it was rather nice – reassuring – to see a familiar friendly face in a country where they knew no one and didn’t speak the language. He was eager to know what had happened since he’d last seen them, when they’d arrived at the orphanage to be told Lana was dead. Ian briefly explained about meeting the doctor and Anastasia the day before and that the adoption was going ahead. The driver was very pleased for them and didn’t seem to mind that they weren’t using the lady his cousin knew. ‘So I’ll be seeing lots of you,’ he said, for he knew the procedure. Couples usually visited the child most days while they waited for the adoption to go through.

He parked outside the orphanage, and as Ian and Elaine got out he wished them luck and confirmed he would be waiting for them when they came out – it didn’t matter how long they were. Trying to summon a cab outside the towns and cities was highly unreliable and most cab drivers were happy to wait for hours if necessary. It added a little to their income and saved the clients a lot of aggravation.

Ian rattled the gate to alert the staff to their presence and the driver gave a blast of the car horn. A few moments later Dr Ciobanu appeared.

‘Good afternoon,’ he called brightly, coming down the path. He unlocked the gate and warmly shook their hands and said hello to the driver. ‘So are we all good?’ he asked Ian and Elaine as they followed him inside.

‘Yes, thank you,’ they replied.

‘You slept well? And the hotel is comfortable?’ he asked, showing them into his office.

‘Yes, it’s fine, thank you,’ Ian said. Although staying in the hotel was purely practical. They’d been warned that the cheaper guest houses were very basic and unclean and the court wouldn’t be happy knowing the child would be taken to one of them. There would be at least a week between the adoption order being granted and the adoption papers, her passport and visa being issued. During which time Anastasia would be with them. While many children lived in far worse conditions than those found in guest houses, the courts expected better from the adoptive parents.

The orphanage was quiet as usual, and Ian and Elaine sat at the table in Dr Ciobanu’s office as he offered them a glass of water, which they politely refused. He sat opposite them, their folder and other paperwork on the table in front of him. ‘So I have spoken to Anastasia’s mother,’ he said, taking a sip of his water. ‘She has agreed to you seeing the child for an hour each day before the adoption, but she has requested you do not take her outside.’

‘OK,’ Ian said. ‘Can I ask why?’

‘It’s normal. The mothers are concerned you may abduct or harm the child.’ They nodded. ‘She has also asked that she has new clothes. Again, this is usual. She is very poor and what we have at the orphanage is basic. You have brought some with you?’

‘Yes,’ Elaine said. It was on their instruction sheet. ‘But they were for Lana. They are far too small for Anastasia. We were looking at some children’s clothes this morning at the local supermarket but they didn’t have much choice.’

‘No. I will give you the address of a proper children’s shop in town. You can go there.’ He scribbled the address on the notepad, tore it off and passed it to Elaine. ‘It’s about a twenty-minute cab ride from your hotel. The driver will know where it is.’

‘Thank you,’ Elaine said, and tucked the paper carefully into her bag.

‘The clothes you brought with you for the other child you can donate to the orphanage,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘We rely on donations.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Ian said, although he would have liked to have been asked rather than instructed. They both knew the doctor wasn’t being rude; it was just the way so many people in this country talked. They issued instructions rather than requests, so it could sound very curt and abrupt.

‘Give me your paperwork now, please,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘You have brought the originals?’

‘Yes,’ Ian said. Unclipping his briefcase, he handed the file to the doctor. In it was their Home Study report compiled over eight months by their social worker, Certificate of Eligibility to adopt, medical reports, references, bank and mortgage statements (showing they could afford to look after a child) and police checks. All of which had been notarized and translated. Ian had another complete set in his briefcase in case any went missing. Photocopies of the documents had already been sent, but the court required the originals.

They waited patiently as Dr Ciobanu turned the pages, checking everything was there. ‘Good,’ he said, flicking through the last few. ‘It seems to be in order. Now you need to sign these forms so I can process them.’ He opened the second file and placed various forms in front of them, which they both signed. They weren’t translated but Ian and Elaine knew what they were and had been expecting them. ‘Your request to adopt Anastasia,’ Dr Ciobanu confirmed, ‘and in this one you appoint me to represent you and act on your behalf.’ The last form was a donation to the orphanage and an amount equivalent to £500 had been entered. Again, this was standard and they’d been expecting it.

‘Do you want the donation now?’ Elaine asked. The doctor nodded. She opened her handbag and took out an envelope containing the local currency and passed it to him.

‘And the second payment for you arrived in your account?’ Ian asked.

‘I haven’t checked but I am sure it has,’ the doctor said. They’d had to send an initial payment for the doctor’s services when they’d first instructed him and then a second payment to cover the court fees before they arrived. But these fees were small compared to what they’d already spent at home on their Home Study, Certificate of Eligibility, notarization, medicals, etc. All in all, including accommodation and travel, they estimated they would spend in the region of £25,000 for the adoption. A lot of money to them, but obviously worth every penny.

‘So now you have time with Anastasia,’ Dr Ciobanu said. Standing, he tucked the envelope into his inside jacket pocket. ‘I will bank this later and give you a receipt. Come this way. Anastasia is in the playroom.’

Their hopes rose at the mention of a playroom, but fell again as soon as they entered the room. It was very small and mostly empty. The only furniture was a beanbag in one corner, on which Anastasia sat waiting. Beside her were a few old and broken toys.

‘Hello, love,’ Elaine said, going over and sitting beside her on the floor. Anastasia was wearing the same dress as the day before.

‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘Let someone know when it is time for you to go.’

‘Thank you,’ Ian said. Dr Ciobanu closed the door behind them.

‘How are you, love?’ Elaine asked gently. Ian joined them on the floor, setting his briefcase to one side.

Anastasia stared at them and then tugged at the carrier bag looped over Elaine’s arm.

‘Oh, you’d like to see what I have in here, would you?’ Elaine asked, pleased. ‘Of course. These are for you.’ She took out the doll and placed it in Anastasia’s lap. ‘Doll,’ Elaine said. ‘For Anastasia. Can you say doll? Doll.’ She knew that children learned language through imitation and repetition, but Anastasia was more interested in what else was in the carrier bag.

‘Crayons,’ Elaine said, handing her the packet of wax crayons. ‘And a colouring book.’ She set it on the floor and stuffed the empty carrier bag into her pocket. Although Anastasia was only two and a quarter, Elaine and Ian had friends with children of a similar age who managed to hold a crayon and make large swirls of different colours. But Anastasia had never seen a crayon close up before, let alone used one. She spent some moments examining the packet and then, selecting the red crayon, put it in her mouth.

‘No, love,’ Elaine said, stopping her. ‘It’s not to eat. It’s a crayon, we use it for colouring in. I’ll show you.’ She took another crayon from the packet and passed one to Ian, and together they began colouring in the first picture in the book, which was of a teddy bear wearing a spotted hat and scarf.

Anastasia watched intently for a while, then lost interest and, dropping the crayon, picked up the doll. ‘Doll,’ Elaine said. ‘You like the doll?’ Anastasia stared at them as though wondering who on earth these strangers were and why they were here.

‘It must be so difficult for her,’ Ian said. ‘I hope Dr Ciobanu has tried to explain to her what is happening.’

‘I would think he has,’ Elaine said, concentrating on Anastasia.

Suddenly Anastasia jumped up and, still holding the doll, ran to the window. Ian and Elaine followed her. The only redemptive feature of the room was a large window that looked out to the woods at the back of the orphanage. There were bars at the window and the glass was dirty, but it gave more natural light than the small grids in the nursery rooms and the view was encouraging. Anastasia reached one hand through the bars and banged on the glass with her little fist, then looked up at them imploringly. She didn’t need language to make herself understood.

‘We can’t go outside,’ Elaine said gently. ‘One day we will after we’ve been to court.’ Anastasia banged on the glass again and then held up the doll so she could have a glimpse of the outside. It was touching and upsetting. Anastasia hadn’t spent all her life in the orphanage as many of the other children had – some of it had been with her mother – so she knew a very different world lay out there. ‘Come on, let’s do some colouring,’ Elaine encouraged, but Anastasia remained glued to the window.

‘I don’t think she has been in this room before,’ Ian said. ‘She’s fascinated by the window.’

‘No,’ Elaine agreed. ‘I get the feeling she spends most of her time in that cot or helping in those so-called nurseries.’ Elaine’s eyes filled. Although they’d been aware of the conditions at these orphanages, it still hurt and angered them to see it for themselves.

‘But we mustn’t say anything,’ Ian reminded her. ‘They don’t like criticism.’ Which was one of the reasons change in social care had been slow.

Elaine bent down to Anastasia’s height. ‘We’ll take you out as soon as we can, love. We are going to visit lots and lots of places when we go home. Parks, the seaside, the zoo, activity centres and, when you are older, museums and castles. But for now we have to stay here. Let’s play with the doll.’ Elaine gently drew Anastasia from the window and to the beanbag, where she sat beside her.

It was a very basic, cheap-looking doll, but it was all the store had. Its dress was held on by Velcro and Elaine now showed Anastasia how to dress and undress the doll. Anastasia liked the tearing noise the Velcro made and spent some time sticking and unsticking it. Then she spotted Ian’s briefcase and made a grab for that.

‘Do you want to see inside?’ he asked, smiling. Anastasia tugged at the flap. ‘OK, I’ll show you, but you can’t have what’s in it. They are very important papers, about you.’

Ian unfastened the clip and allowed Anastasia to peer in, but he needn’t have worried about her wanting the papers and files – they were of no interest to a two-year-old, regardless of how important they might be. Anastasia was up again and at the window.

‘Come on and we’ll do some crayoning,’ Elaine said, going over. Anastasia tapped on the glass and looked at her imploringly again. ‘We can’t go out,’ Elaine said, shaking her head to signal no. ‘Let’s play with the doll again.’ But even as she said it, it was clear that all the child’s hopes lay in being allowed to go out. ‘What about these toys?’ Elaine said, going over to the broken toy cars and four plastic building pots that were already in the room. Anastasia glanced over to where Elaine pointed and then returned her attention to the window.

‘I don’t know what else to do,’ Elaine said to Ian. ‘We’ll have to buy some more interesting toys when we go shopping.’ Then she had a thought. Opening her handbag, she took out her mobile phone and went into the Photo Gallery. ‘Look, Anastasia, pictures!’

The child’s interest was piqued. She turned from the window to look, then allowed Elaine to lead her to the beanbag where she sat between them and they spent a pleasant ten minutes going through the photographs.

‘Well done,’ Ian said to Elaine. ‘When she’s finished with yours we can look at the photos on my phone.’

So the hour passed with photographs, some colouring, sticking and unsticking the Velcro on the doll’s dress, and visits to the window. While Ian and Elaine had thought an hour was a very short time to spend with their future daughter when it had first been mentioned, now it seemed appropriate. They were emotionally exhausted and had also used up their resources so that Anastasia had grown bored with what they had to offer. As well as gazing out of the window she kept looking towards the door, perhaps wondering when it would be opened. When the hour was up and they told her it was time for them to go and went to find someone to tell them they were leaving, she didn’t resist. Far from it. She seemed pleased to see the care worker again and ran to her side, but of course what is familiar feels safe to a young child. Elaine and Ian said goodbye to Anastasia, and the care worker issued an instruction to Anastasia. Without looking back, she ran off into one of the rooms and the care worker saw them out.

As they collapsed into the back of the cab the driver said, ‘First few visits always difficult. You and child strangers. It will get better. I bring a lot of couples here and they look like you to begin with – shell-shocked.’

Ian and Elaine laughed, relieved. ‘That’s the word – shell-shocked,’ Ian said. ‘You speak a lot of sense.’

‘You tell my wife that!’ the driver replied with a cheeky grin.