A Baby’s Cry. Cathy Glass
She paused, as though collecting her thoughts, and I knew she was about to tell me what she could of Harrison’s background. ‘Rihanna first came to the attention of the social services four months ago,’ Cheryl began. ‘The duty social worker took a call from her on a private number late one evening. Rihanna was in a bad way, sobbing hysterically on the phone and saying she had done something terrible. She sounded desperate and the duty social was very concerned. He spent a long time talking to her and tried to persuade her to tell him where she was or come into the offices the following day, when she could be helped. But just as he thought he was getting through to her she severed the call. Then two days later Rihanna phoned the social services again during the day and I took the call. She was still very distressed but seemed to be more open to what I was saying – perhaps because I was a woman. After much persuading she finally agreed to meet me. She said she couldn’t come to the offices in case she was seen but agreed to meet me in a coffee shop out of town.’
Cheryl paused to take a sip of her coffee and I sat, very quiet and still, waiting for her to continue.
‘Rihanna was not what I expected,’ Cheryl said. ‘She is a mature woman with a successful career and a very responsible job. She is normally level-headed but because of the circumstances she found herself in she was very distressed and couldn’t think straight. She was five months pregnant at the time, so it was too late for a termination and I doubt she could have gone through with that anyway. She said she wanted her baby adopted and agreed to cooperate with the social services as long as I was the only social worker she had to deal with. I had to explain there was certain information I would have to share with my manager – in the strictest confidence – and Rihanna accepted this. When she told me her situation I completely understood why she was so distressed and the strict rules she had put in place to protect her identity. Her fears for her safety are very real.’
‘But are they really?’ I asked, seizing the opportunity as Cheryl paused to finish her coffee. ‘I appreciate you can’t divulge the details but I find it incredible that a woman’s life can be in danger because she has a baby, in this country in this day and age.’
Cheryl put down her coffee cup and met my gaze, her expression very serious. ‘So did I to begin with, but once Rihanna had told me her full story I believed her. Her fears are real.’ She paused, her gaze flickering around the room before returning to me. ‘Cathy, I’m sure no one knows where Harrison is, and I’ve gone to great lengths to protect Rihanna’s identity, but if you do see anyone acting suspiciously in the street outside your house you must call me immediately. And if anyone you don’t know comes to the door and asks about Harrison or his mother, you need to phone the police.’
I looked at her, shocked. ‘But you said no one knew he was here,’ I said, a cold shiver running up my spine.
‘That’s right, and it should stay that way. I just want you to be aware.’
My unease grew. ‘I have two young children,’ I said. ‘I’m not putting them in danger by looking after Harrison, am I?’
‘No. If Harrison’s whereabouts were to become known, which is highly unlikely, we’d move him straightaway. But I’m sure it won’t come to that.’
I wasn’t so sure. I knew of cases where the foster carer’s address had been accidentally divulged to abusive and violent parents and the child had been moved immediately – to protect the child and also the foster family. Although in this case I didn’t know where the threat would come from because Rihanna certainly wasn’t an abusive parent; and Cheryl wasn’t going to tell me, as she’d changed the subject.
‘I met Rihanna a number of times during her pregnancy,’ Cheryl said. ‘I made sure she had her health-care check-ups and I’ll make sure she has her postpartum check-up too.’
‘Good,’ I said, trying to get my thoughts back on track. ‘The health visitor was worried about that. She was also concerned that Rihanna had been missed off the computer system and wasn’t receiving the support she needs.’
‘I’ll phone the health visitor and tell her I’m taking care of it,’ Cheryl said. I nodded. ‘As you know, Harrison will be adopted,’ Cheryl continued, ‘and we’re already pursuing that. We have plenty of approved prospective adoptive parents who have applied. He’ll be an easy baby to place.’
‘I see,’ I said, surprised that the adoption process was moving so quickly. ‘I’m taking plenty of photographs of Harrison, and I’m also beginning a Life Story book for the adoptive parents. Wouldn’t Rihanna like a few photos too? She might feel differently now.’
Cheryl shook her head. ‘I’ve spoken to her solicitor and she says Rihanna is still of the same mind and feels she couldn’t cope with reminders.’
‘Is she living alone?’ I asked, worried for her.
‘I believe so. As I said, Cathy, this is one of the saddest cases I’ve ever had to deal with. Rihanna is a lovely lady who would make a wonderful mother. It’s such a pity she won’t have that chance. I …’ Her voice trailed off and she stared thoughtfully across the room as though she had been about to say more but had stopped herself. ‘Anyway,’ she said after a moment, checking her watch. ‘If that’s everything, I’d better be going. I’ve another meeting soon. Thanks for the coffee and biscuits, and thanks for looking after Harrison. I’ll phone Rihanna’s solicitor when I get back to the office and tell her that he is doing well.’
‘Will you also tell her solicitor I am carrying out Rihanna’s wishes and dressing Harrison in the clothes she bought for him?’ I said. ‘They fit perfectly and he looks very smart. The soft toys Rihanna bought are at the foot of his cot, and his cot is close to my bed so that I can hear him as soon as he wakes at night. Please ask the solicitor to tell Rihanna, Harrison is a very good baby and rarely cries. He’s a delight to look after.’ I stopped as a lump rose in my throat.
‘I will, Cathy,’ Cheryl said. ‘I’ll tell her solicitor and she’ll pass it on to Rihanna. I know Rihanna would want me to thank you for looking after Harrison.’
‘There’s no need to thank me. I just wish things could be different for her.’
‘So do I, Cathy; so do I.’
After I’d seen Cheryl out I pushed Harrison in the pram to the local shops for some groceries I needed. It was a beautiful summer’s afternoon and a joy to walk in the warm air with the birds singing and gardens awash with colourful flowers. My thoughts went to Rihanna, as they often did when there was just Harrison and me, and I was sorry she would never be able to experience the simple pleasure of pushing her baby in his pram on a beautiful summer’s day; or later, when he was a toddler, of taking him to the park, or seeing him open his presents on his birthday and at Christmas. All these occasions create the precious memories we, as parents, have of our children and carry in our hearts forever. Well, at least the adoptive parents, whoever they may be, will be able to enjoy Harrison, I told myself. But whether Rihanna would ever be able to truly forget her son as she’d told Cheryl she was trying to do I doubted. Learn to live without him as the bereaved have to do, maybe, but not forget him. I was sure that would be impossible, just as I never forgot any of the children I’d fostered, even those who’d only stayed for a few days.
When I returned home I put away the groceries and it was time to collect Adrian and Paula from school. I was pleased it was Friday, which meant a break from the school routine, and my parents were visiting on Sunday, when they would see Harrison for the first time. Although Harrison wasn’t my baby my maternal instinct had resurfaced and I felt very proud and protective of him, which was just as well as he kept me up all Friday night for no obvious reason, so that by Saturday morning, far from feeling relaxed at the start of the weekend, I was exhausted from lack of sleep. Adrian and Paula had been woken by Harrison’s cries in the night too, when I’d paced my bedroom with Harrison in my arms trying to settle him, so they were tired and irritable, and bickered at the breakfast table. Then to make matters worse I got the shock of my life when I answered the front door to find a man I didn’t know asking me if I had a baby in the house!
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