A Long Way from Home: Part 2 of 3

Anastasia joined them on the bed as Elaine ate, then she began yawning and rubbing her eyes. ‘You must be exhausted, pet,’ Elaine said gently to her. ‘Try to have a little sleep.’ She helped Anastasia to snuggle down. Anastasia rubbed her face against the soft, luxurious feel of the duvet and began sucking her thumb. It wasn’t long before her eyes closed and she fell into a deep sleep. Ian and Elaine gazed at her admiringly. Her little features relaxed in sleep, she was gorgeous and everything they could possibly have wished for. Her breath fell light and even and her thumb slipped from her mouth as she slept. If they’d known then what was to follow, they might have taken the opportunity to rest themselves while they had the chance. Anastasia slept for two hours and then woke with a start.

Chapter Eleven

Exhausted (#uf88ae39b-91eb-5316-bcea-17ea2e236753)

It was just after 4 p.m. when Anastasia’s eyes shot open and she was immediately off the bed and at the door of their hotel room. It was such a sudden awakening that it made Ian and Elaine start and they wondered if she was fully awake, but any doubt quickly vanished as she began hammering on the door. Elaine went to her. ‘No, love. Quietly,’ she said, trying to draw her away. ‘There are other people in this hotel. Don’t bang the door.’ Which of course was meaningless to Anastasia. She broke from Elaine’s hold and ran around the room screaming – not crying or upset, just screaming.

‘She’s got a good set of lungs on her,’ Ian quipped. They hadn’t heard her scream before, but Elaine wasn’t amused.

‘Shhh, quietly,’ she said, catching her by the arm. ‘Shhh.’ She put her finger to her lips. ‘Too much noise. What’s the matter?’ Anastasia stared at her blankly. ‘Let’s get you some toys out to play with. Ian, can you help, please?’

He left the bed and, opening the suitcase containing Anastasia’s belongings, took out some of the new toys they’d brought with them, including another activity centre. He set them beside Anastasia and then took the trays off the bed and put them outside the door for room service to collect later. Seeing the door open, Anastasia made a dash for it, but Ian quickly closed it. She banged on it with her fists, clearly wanting to be out.

‘Come on, play with the toys,’ Elaine encouraged, going to her. But Anastasia was more interested in the door.

‘It’s like that first day we were with her at the orphanage,’ Ian said. ‘Do you remember, she kept going to the window and then ran off?’

Elaine didn’t find this reminder helpful and drew Anastasia away from the door towards the toys. They both tried to engage her in play, but a few moments later she was at the door again, hammering for all she was worth. Exasperated, not sure what to do for the best and feeling a little rejected, Elaine went to her. ‘Anastasia, you can’t go out, love. You’re staying with us. We’re your mummy and daddy.’

‘Mummy and Daddy,’ she repeated, and thumped the door harder.

‘Perhaps we should go for a walk?’ Ian suggested. ‘I know we were planning on spending the rest of the day here to give her a chance to adjust but that’s not working. We could go to the supermarket now rather than tomorrow?’

Elaine agreed, and with a plan of action felt more positive. ‘We’re going out,’ she told Anastasia and picked up her coat and boots. As soon as Anastasia saw her outdoor wear she realized they were leaving, stopped banging on the door and went to Elaine.

Used to being self-sufficient and doing things for herself, Anastasia rejected Elaine’s help and began struggling into her clothes herself. Putting on boots, a coat, mittens, hat and scarf is difficult for any two-year-old, even if they are independent, and it kept Anastasia quietly occupied for a good ten minutes. ‘Perhaps give her clothes to play with in future,’ Ian remarked dryly, and finally Elaine smiled. ‘It will be OK,’ he reassured her, kissing her cheek. ‘Just give her time. It’s all new for her as it is for us.’

With Anastasia finally dressed for going out, she allowed Elaine to do up the zipper on her coat and take her hand, and they left the room. Ian summoned the lift and the couple who were already in it moved aside to make space for them. However, the woman blocked Anastasia’s view of herself in the mirror and she pushed her aside so she could see. The woman smiled indulgently but Elaine apologized and said firmly to Anastasia, ‘No. It’s rude to push.’ She appreciated that until now Anastasia had probably had to push to fend for herself and take what she wanted, and was therefore more ‘streetwise’ than the average two-year-old. But that was behind her now and she’d have to slowly learn what was polite in order to fit in.

Reception was busy so Elaine and Ian were able to slip out without having to go to the desk and introduce Anastasia to the staff. They felt that once they knew Anastasia better and were used to her ways, they would be more confident parenting her, and would of course show her off. But for now there were so many unknowns, especially in her behaviour, that they didn’t want any nasty surprises in public, which they might struggle to cope with.

Elaine had to insist that Anastasia held her hand while near the road. ‘Cars hurt,’ she told her. Ian took Anastasia’s other hand and they crossed the busy main road.

Anastasia seemed less agitated now than she had done in the hotel and the walk to the supermarket was uneventful, although it was cold, and the light was failing early in winter. The supermarket wasn’t much warmer and the two cashiers positioned near the doors were wearing their coats. They looked at Elaine, Ian and Anastasia as they entered, intrigued. Although the women didn’t speak English they had got to know Ian and Elaine by sight from their daily visits and must have wondered who the child was. It was possible they’d surmised they had adopted her as this was the closest shop to the hotel where other couples who were in the country to adopt had stayed. Ian nodded politely and then the three of them began up and down the aisles, looking at the shelves crammed full of goods.

Anastasia was fascinated; perhaps she’d never been in a shop before – it was impossible to know. With a month to go before Christmas, new festive goods were being added daily, glittering and enticing. They had to stop Anastasia touching everything in case she dropped or damaged an item – the glass baubles were especially fragile. They’d really come here so she could choose some food she liked, and they gradually led her to the tins, packets, and fridge and freezer food. Anastasia was far more interested in baubles and tinsel. Elaine said that perhaps it was asking a bit much to expect a two-year-old – even one who knew her own mind – to choose food. Ian agreed and pointed out it was a pity they couldn’t ask a member of staff what children in this country ate, as they didn’t speak the language. Dr Ciobanu’s guidance notes had advised adopters of babies which powdered milk to bring, and said that children on solids ate a variety of meat and vegetables, bread and thick soups. After spending half an hour in the shop they bought something that looked like a local variation on a Pot Noodle – it just needed boiling water to be added to it. They also bought bread rolls, apples, bananas, a milkshake and a fairy for the top of the Christmas tree that Anastasia wouldn’t let go of.

The cashier smiled at Anastasia as she checked the items through and then gave her a lollipop from a box at the side of the till. Elaine thanked her. It was a nice gesture and her friendly manner towards Anastasia suggested that if she knew they’d adopted, she approved.

Outside, Anastasia enjoyed the lollipop as they headed back to their hotel. ‘Well, at least that’s one thing she’ll eat,’ Ian remarked. ‘Perhaps we should go back and buy the whole jar?’ Elaine smiled, aware he was joking.

It was dark now save for the street lamps and car headlights, and even colder as night fell. There was no way of knowing what Anastasia was thinking or feeling, or where she thought they were going. She seemed quite content sucking her lollipop until they approached the hotel, then she suddenly stopped dead and refused to move.

‘What is it, love?’ Elaine asked. She’d taken the lollipop from her mouth and looked frightened and confused. ‘We’re going to our hotel room,’ Elaine gently reassured her. ‘Come on, love. We can’t stand out here. It’s freezing.’ But Anastasia refused to move.

Elaine tried persuading and coercing her, then tugged gently on her arm, but Anastasia stood her ground. Passers-by glanced at them. ‘You’ll have to pick her up and carry her,’ Elaine said to Ian at last, trying again to move her forward. Anastasia resisted.

‘OK, I’ll give you a carry,’ Ian said, and scooped her up. Anastasia opened her mouth and screamed for all she was worth. He quickly put her down again.

‘You walk then,’ Elaine said anxiously, starting to panic. ‘Come on. We can’t stay here.’

Anastasia stared at her but didn’t move. Elaine tried again to persuade her, so did Ian, but the child’s expression was set. It was clear she wasn’t going anywhere of her own accord.

‘You’ll have to carry her,’ Elaine said again in desperation.

Ian picked her up. Anastasia screamed but he continued into the hotel with Elaine following close behind. Reception was still busy but whereas before, on their way out, it had been an asset, now it was every parent’s nightmare. Guests and staff turned to see where the noise was coming from, some with condemnatory expressions, wondering what the problem was, and why the parents couldn’t control their child. Keeping their eyes averted, Elaine and Ian hurried across the lobby to the lift, which mercifully was waiting and empty. Stepping in, Elaine quickly pressed the button for their floor and the doors closed. Accepting defeat, Anastasia stopped screaming and struggled to be put down. A bit flushed but otherwise unfazed, she continued sucking her lollipop.

‘First battle won,’ Ian said perkily, but Elaine wasn’t so sure.

Her confidence had taken a big hit. Not only had she no idea what had provoked Anastasia’s tantrum, but she didn’t know how they should have handled it. Supposing she did it again when they couldn’t just pick her up and run to their hotel room? What would she do then? She suddenly felt great empathy for those parents she’d seen in the street or supermarket who gave in to their screaming toddler’s demands. If held to ransom by her child in a public place, she was in no doubt she’d do the same.

Once in their hotel room, energized from the two-hour sleep that afternoon, Anastasia ran around opening drawers, pulling on cupboard doors, rummaging in their cases and generally exploring everything in sight. Although it was only natural for a child to be inquisitive, it was wearing. Elaine followed her around, returning items to their correct places and making sure she didn’t do any damage or hurt herself. She picked up the discarded lollipop stick that Anastasia threw on the floor and put it in the waste-paper basket. A few times Anastasia babbled something in her own language, perhaps about the object she was investigating. Elaine told her the word in English but Anastasia didn’t repeat it. When she ran into the bathroom Elaine followed her and had to stop her from repeatedly flushing the toilet and turning on the taps, which fascinated her. She tried to climb into the bath.

‘You can have another bath tomorrow,’ Elaine said. ‘I’ll wash your hair too.’

Not understanding, and preferring to have her own way, Anastasia kept trying to climb over the side of the bath and eventually slipped and bumped her head. Not a bad knock but enough to make her cry out, mutter something – that could have been a curse – and give the bath a good kick.

‘Shall I make up that Pot Noodle or whatever it is?’ Ian called from the bedroom. ‘She may be hungry now.’

‘Yes, please,’ Elaine returned. The instructions on the side of the pot were diagrammatic, and simply involved pouring boiling water onto the contents of the pot and letting it stand for two minutes to hydrate. There was a kettle in the room for making tea and coffee.

Having heard Ian’s voice, and sensing something was going on that needed her attention, Anastasia ran from the bathroom. Elaine then had to keep her away from the boiling kettle, which she wanted to touch. As they waited for the mixture to hydrate and then cool a little, Ian looked up the main ingredients listed on the pot in their phrase book. ‘Mutton,’ he translated. ‘Flour, noodles, cabbage, onion, pepper …’ and so on.

Once the food was ready, Ian tested it. ‘Interesting,’ he said, unsure.

Anastasia was also interested in what was in the pot as the aroma rose and spread around the room. Elaine guided her to the chair, spread a tissue on her lap and gave her the pot and spoon, but stayed close by to help her or mop up the mess. Anastasia peered in, stirred the mixture, jiggled the spoon up and down but didn’t eat. ‘Hmm, yummy. Eat it,’ Elaine encouraged, smacking her lips.

Anastasia played with the food some more but didn’t try to eat it. ‘You must be hungry by now,’ Elaine said. ‘You’ve had nothing all day.’ Taking the spoon, she ate a little herself in the hope Anastasia would copy, but she just pushed the pot away. Elaine tried again without success. It appeared that when Anastasia set her mind to something she was resolute.

‘Perhaps we could try room service again?’ Ian suggested when it was clear Anastasia wasn’t going to eat the food in the pot. ‘We’ll have to order for us before long.’

‘But what?’ Elaine asked. ‘She hardly ate anything of what we ordered last time.’

‘I could ask someone in the kitchen for advice,’ he said. ‘Surely they will know what children here like to eat.’ He went to the phone by the bed and pressed the key for room service. ‘Speak English?’ he asked when it was answered.

‘A little.’

‘What do children living here like to eat?’

‘You want to eat?’

‘Yes, but I need to know what a child living in this country likes to eat.’

‘The room service menu is in your room by the phone,’ came the reply.

‘I know. Thank you. What do I order for a child?’

‘You would like to order now?’ So it appeared his English was very limited.