A Long Way from Home. Cathy Glass

      Chapter Three

       Anxious

      ‘Anastasia!’ Dr Ciobanu announced brightly, leading them to a cot in the second nursery room. Ian and Elaine met the child’s inquisitive gaze with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Clearly not a baby, but an apparently healthy, bouncing child with personality and gusto. She was pulling on the bars of the cot as though demanding to be let out, and was so different to the nine-month-old baby they’d come to adopt, it took them a minute to adjust.

      ‘Say hello to your new mummy and daddy,’ Dr Ciobanu told her.

      Anastasia babbled something in her own language.

      ‘What did she say?’ Elaine asked.

      ‘It was just baby talk,’ the doctor replied. ‘Don’t worry, she will quickly learn English and forget her life here.’

      ‘Hello,’ Elaine said tentatively, taking a step closer to the cot. Ian joined her. Anastasia looked at them and they looked back. It was one of the most touching and surreal moments of their lives as they were presented with this little stranger who could shortly become their daughter. ‘Why is she in a cot?’ Elaine asked, without taking her gaze from Anastasia.

      ‘To keep her safe,’ Dr Ciobanu replied. ‘She is an active child and would be gone from here given the chance.’

      ‘I don’t blame her,’ Ian quipped, which helped ease the tension.

      ‘I’ll get her out and you can see how active she is,’ Dr Ciobanu said. Reaching over the cot side, he lifted out the child and set her on the floor. As soon as her bare feet touched the ground she made a dash for the exit. Dr Ciobanu called out something in her language and she stopped. ‘You mustn’t go out. It’s not safe,’ he repeated to her in English. She threw him an almost defiant look, but it was so quaint on the face of a cherubic two-year-old that they all laughed.

      She was like a life-sized porcelain doll, Elaine thought, with her pale skin, clear blue eyes and fair hair, and wearing a little floral dress that was really far too small. But she did look healthy and robust, which was so important after what had happened to poor little Lana. Moving away from the door, Anastasia went to the closest cot and, peering through the bars, began talking to the child. He was very disabled and lay motionless on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his misshapen limbs jutting out at odd angles.

      ‘He’s blind and deaf,’ Dr Ciobanu said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘We do what we can, but …’ He left the sentence unfinished.

      It was as heartbreaking now for Elaine and Ian to see these children as it had been the day before. Although they hadn’t been in this room, it was similar to the others, and the majority of the children in the cots seemed to have a severe physical and/or mental disability. Elaine felt a pang of guilt for wanting a healthy child, but she knew her limitations – she couldn’t cope with a badly disabled child. That took a very special person. For some moments they watched, spellbound, as Anastasia went from cot to cot, babbling to the infants in her own language and gently stroking their foreheads or holding their hands through the bars. Only a few responded by shifting their gaze to her; most lay unresponsive and continued to stare blankly into space as though they weren’t aware she was even there.

      ‘Can we take Anastasia outside and play ball for a while?’ Elaine asked. The room was oppressive.

      ‘Possibly tomorrow,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘Today is just for you to meet her. I will speak to the mother and then you can come back tomorrow and play with Anastasia.’ Which they had to accept, and it seemed reasonable that the doctor would want to speak to the mother first to gain her consent to start the adoption process. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, clapping Ian on the shoulder. ‘All will be well, I promise you.’

      They continued to watch Anastasia for a while longer as she went from cot to cot. How Elaine would have loved to pick her up and carry her home there and then, for the bonding process had begun and she was already feeling protective towards her.

      Dr Ciobanu made a move to go. ‘So you come back tomorrow,’ he said.

      ‘Yes, of course. What time?’ Ian asked.

      ‘I’ll phone you in the morning in your hotel room to let you know.’ He then called down the corridor for a care worker. ‘Anastasia can stay out of her cot for now,’ he said to them. ‘She can help. She likes to help.’

      A different care worker appeared, but seemed no less harsh and abrasive in her manner than the other one. Dr Ciobanu said something to her in their own language and then called Anastasia, presumably to go with the care worker. Anastasia pretended not to hear and stayed by the cot. ‘Now, please,’ the doctor said firmly, then repeated it in her own language. Anastasia dutifully turned and went over to the care worker. Elaine’s heart clenched.

      ‘Goodbye, love,’ she called after her. ‘See you tomorrow.’ But Anastasia didn’t reply, because of course she hadn’t understood.

      ‘You can teach her English when you visit,’ Dr Ciobanu said, beginning towards the door. ‘She will learn quickly. She is bright.’

      ‘Yes,’ Ian agreed, much happier now.

      Anastasia and the care worker were already out of sight as the doctor led the way to the main door. ‘Do you want our paperwork now?’ Ian asked, having brought it with them in his briefcase.

      ‘Tomorrow will do. We have plenty of time.’

      ‘But not too long, I hope,’ Ian said.

      The doctor smiled. ‘Don’t worry. You enjoy your stay here, see some of our beautiful country and let me take care of the rest.’ He unlocked the door and they followed him down the path, where he let them out of the main gate, saying hello to their cab driver.

      ‘So you’ll phone us tomorrow morning to let us know what time we have to come?’ Ian confirmed. He would have liked a firm time but had to accept that things ran differently in this country.

      ‘Of course.’ Dr Ciobanu shook their hands and then returned inside as Elaine and Ian climbed into the back of the cab.

      ‘You look happier,’ the driver said.

      ‘We are,’ Ian replied, taking Elaine’s hand.

      ‘You met your daughter?’ the driver asked, starting the engine.

      ‘We did,’ they chimed. For although they hadn’t actually had that conversation, they both instinctively knew that to adopt Anastasia was the right decision. They were beside themselves with joy.

      The driver dropped them off at their hotel and they went briefly to their room to freshen up, then had a light lunch in the hotel, including a glass of wine to celebrate. While they ate, Ian messaged those who knew they were there and were waiting for news, telling them only that they had met their daughter and everything was fine. They would fill in the details about Lana’s passing and Anastasia when they returned home. For now, this was the update their friends were waiting for, and his and Elaine’s phones buzzed with messages of congratulations and good luck.

      They spent the afternoon walking around the local area, gazing into shop windows and down side alleys, and visiting the street market. They took lots of photographs. Although it was their first visit to the country, they’d read up about it and researched online and wanted pictures of the area to show Anastasia when she was older. The social worker who’d assessed them