Will You Love Me?: The story of my adopted daughter Lucy: Part 2 of 3. Cathy Glass
Lucy. I think you’ve coped remarkably well. I don’t think I would have coped as well as you have.’
I paused again and listened for any response, but there was none, not even a sigh or a sob. For all I knew she might have stuffed the phone under her pillow so she didn’t have to listen to me, but at least she hadn’t severed the call; the line was still open.
‘I’d like to tell you a bit about myself and my home,’ I continued. ‘So it won’t seem so strange to you when you arrive. I live in a house about a twenty-minute drive from where you are now, so you’ll be able to go to the same secondary school, which is good. You don’t want to change schools again. I have two children: Adrian, who is thirteen, and Paula, who is nine. They are both looking forward to meeting you and having you stay. Paula is planning lots of games for you to play with her. There’s just the three of us, as I’m divorced, so they’ll be four of us in the family when you arrive. Five including our cat.’ I paused again, but there was nothing.
‘I’ve got your room ready,’ I said. ‘But I’m sure you’ll want to change things around to suit you, which is fine. You’ll be able to put posters and pictures on your bedroom walls to make it look nice. Just as you want it. As well as the bed, there’s a wardrobe and drawers for your clothes, plenty of shelf space for your cuddlies and a toy box. There’s also a small table, which you can work at if you need quiet for your homework, or you can do your homework downstairs if you wish. I’ll always help you with your school work if you want me to, just like I help Adrian and Paula. We have quite a big garden with some swings. We like to go out in the garden when the weather is fine. We also like playing games. Adrian and Paula are playing a board game now. Do you like playing games, love?’
I stopped and waited, hoping for a reply, but none came. Was Lucy listening? Had I caught her attention? Or was she still in denial, refusing to acknowledge me, and perhaps sitting with her hands pressed to her ears not having heard a word I’d said. I waited a moment longer and then continued.
‘So, Lucy, I’m wondering what else I can tell you? I’m sure you’ve got lots of questions. Our cat is called Toscha. You’ll like her. She’s very gentle and loves being stroked. The only time she ever scratched anyone was years ago when Adrian was little and he pulled her tail. Cats don’t like having their tails pulled and Adrian learnt his lesson. He never did it again. Paula sometimes puts a doll’s bonnet on Toscha and pushes her around the garden in her doll’s pram. She does look funny.’
I stopped. I thought I’d heard a faint sound, possibly a movement. I waited, not daring to breathe, my pulse throbbing. Then I heard another noise and I stood perfectly still. I had the feeling Lucy had picked up the phone; I thought I heard the faintest sound of breathing. I waited a moment longer to see if she would speak, then, lowering my voice, I said softly: ‘Hello, Lucy.’
A pause, and then an almost inaudible: ‘Hello.’
Relief flooded through me. I could have wept. Her little voice sounded so very sad. ‘Well done, love,’ I said. ‘You’re being very brave. I know how difficult this is for you. Pat does, too. How are you feeling?’
Another pause, and then a very slight: ‘OK, I guess.’
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. I wished I could reach out and hug her.
‘We’re all looking forward to meeting you,’ I said. ‘Adrian, Paula, me and Toscha. Can you think of any questions you’d liked to ask?’
Silence; then her small voice again: ‘What’s the name of the game Adrian and Paula are playing?’ So she had been listening.
‘It’s called draughts, love. Do you know the game?’
A very quiet: ‘I think so.’
‘You play it on a board with round pieces, and you take the other person’s pieces by hopping over them. It’s easy to play and good fun.’
‘I don’t know many games,’ Lucy said quietly.
‘We’ll teach you. We have a cupboard full of games. When you arrive I’ll show you where everything is and you can choose a game to play. Adrian and Paula are always playing games when they’re not at school.’
‘Do they watch television, too?’ Lucy asked quietly.
‘Oh yes, too much sometimes. Do you have a favourite television programme?’
A small pause, then a tiny: ‘Not really. I watch what everyone else watches.’
‘So, what do you like to eat?’ I now asked. ‘And I’ll make sure I’ve got some of your favourite foods in ready for tomorrow.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Lucy said, in the same small, self-effacing voice that made me want to cry. ‘I don’t really have any favourite food. I don’t like eating much.’
Although I was pleased that Lucy was now talking to me, she seemed so sad and far too compliant – probably a result of having to continually fit in with other families. I was also concerned about her last comment in respect of not liking to eat, for the referral had said she was underweight and had raised the possibility of an eating disorder.
‘What else can I tell you about us?’ I now asked.
There was a pause, and then Lucy asked the one question I’d been dreading. ‘If I come to you, will I have to move again?’
I took a breath. ‘What did your social worker tell you?’ I asked.
‘She said my mum would have to go to court if she wanted me back, as there was a court order now.’
‘That’s right. You’re in care now under what’s called an Interim Care Order. Did your social worker explain what that was?’
‘I think so, but I didn’t really understand.’
‘I know, love. There was too much going on. I’ll try and explain. Until recently, when you were in care it was under what’s called a Section 20, which is an agreement between your mum and the social services. It meant that your mum could take you out of care whenever she wanted to, which is one of the reasons you’ve had so many moves. That can’t happen now there is a court order. The social services will be applying for a Full Care Order, when the judge will make the decision on where you should live permanently: if you can live with your mother or if you would be better off in foster care permanently. But we won’t know the judge’s decision for many months, possibly a year, as they have to read lots of reports to make sure it’s the right decision.’ I stopped. ‘Does that make any sense to you, love?’
There was a long pause, which was hardly surprising; the workings of the care system are difficult enough for adults to grasp, let alone an eleven-year-old child.
When Lucy spoke again it brought tears to my eyes. ‘I don’t want to live with my mum,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want to have to keep moving. Other kids have proper homes and families who love them. I just want a family of my own.’
Chapter Eleven
I couldn’t lie to Lucy. I couldn’t tell her she would never have to move again, but I could tell her that eventually she would be found a permanent family of her own.
‘Lucy, from what I know of your history I think it’s highly unlikely the judge will decide you should live with your mother. So the social services will see if you have a relative who can look after you, and if not then they will find you a long-term foster family to suit you.’ I didn’t say ‘one that will match your cultural heritage’, although I knew that would be part of the criteria. Lucy was dual heritage, as her father was Thai, so the social services would want to find her a family that reflected this.
‘But all that will take many months,’ I said, ‘maybe up to a year, and you won’t have to move again during that time.’ It was the best I could offer to