Will You Love Me?: The story of my adopted daughter Lucy: Part 2 of 3

‘She has.’

‘How did you manage that?’

‘I think the cat did it,’ I said, with a small laugh. ‘So half past eleven is all right? I’d rather not leave it any later as the waiting will unsettle Lucy again.’

‘Yes, we’ll get going on the packing straight away.’

‘Good. And you may not know this but, when an older child moves, it’s usually best if the carers say goodbye and leave reasonably quickly, so I won’t be offering you coffee. I know it’s different when you move babies to permanency.’

‘Yes, it is. Thanks for telling me.’

‘You can phone Lucy in a week or so. That would be nice, and visit in a few weeks – once she’s had a chance to settle in.’

‘We will. See you tomorrow then. And thanks for all your help.’

‘You’re welcome. Enjoy your evening. You want to part on good terms.’

‘Yes, we’ll try.’

In truth, I hadn’t really done much to persuade Lucy to move other than use my skills and experience from years of fostering. Pat and her husband were used to fostering babies and had been out of their depth looking after an older child, which is why carers are approved and trained to foster a specific age group. I returned to the living room where Adrian and Paula were just finishing their game of draughts and told them the good news: that I’d spoken to Lucy and she would be coming tomorrow. ‘She’s looking forward to playing with you both,’ I added. ‘And we need to make sure Toscha is in.’

‘Why?’ Adrian asked, glancing up from the board. ‘What’s the cat done?’

Ignoring his stab at humour, I said, ‘Lucy’s very keen to see her.’

He threw me an old-fashioned look, took the last of Paula’s pieces from the board and, punching the air, shouted: ‘Winner!’

‘Well played,’ I said.

Paula scowled.

‘You played well too,’ I said diplomatically.

They packed away the game and then Adrian went off to play on his Nintendo, while I took Paula up for her bath and to get her ready for bed. It was Friday, so both children were up later than on a school night. Paula can sometimes be a real little chatterbox, especially at bedtime, and tonight all she could talk about was Lucy.

‘I’m very excited that Lucy’s coming,’ she said, flapping the water in the bath to make more bubbles. ‘What does she like to play?’

‘I’m not sure. You can ask her. I don’t think she knows many games, so you can teach her some.’

‘I will. And I’ll show her my toys and let her play with them, even my new Christmas toys. And if it snows, we can go in the garden and build a snowman. I hope it snows. I’m going to like playing with Lucy.’

While Paula was happily planning all she was going to do with Lucy, I was also thinking about Lucy, and, among other things, about the school run on Monday. Like most foster carers, I had to juggle my children’s commitments with the child or children I was fostering. Adrian, at thirteen, went to school with his friends, but I still took Paula, at age nine, to her primary school and collected her. Lucy’s school was a twenty-minute bus journey away, and although most secondary-school children use buses I wasn’t comfortable with her making an unfamiliar journey alone when she’d just moved in. Once I knew what time her school started, I was hoping I’d be able to work out something that would allow me to take both girls to school and collect them. When a new foster child first arrives, there’s always a period of readjustment and then, once the new routine is established, the household runs smoothly again.

The following morning – Saturday – I was up, showered and dressed earlier than usual for the weekend, and with a mixture of excitement and apprehension I double-checked that Lucy’s room was ready. Paula was up earlier than usual, too, and the first thing she said when she came downstairs was that she was looking forward to meeting Lucy. Adrian, true to form, only stumbled from his bed when he smelled bacon frying. We usually have a cooked breakfast at the weekend; it’s the only two days in the week when we have time to enjoy it. By eleven o’clock Adrian was showered and dressed, too, and caught in the frisson of excited expectation that had enveloped the house. So, with half an hour to go before Lucy’s arrival, we were all ready and waiting, except …

‘Where’s Toscha?’ I asked, suddenly realizing she wasn’t in her favourite spot on the chair by the window.

We looked around the obvious places and couldn’t see her. Then the children helped me search the house from top to bottom: under the beds; in corners (especially by radiators); in and behind cupboards; even in the airing cupboard, where she’d once been found; but there was no sign of Toscha.

‘I expect she’s out,’ Adrian said. ‘I take it she is allowed to use the cat flap?’

‘Very funny,’ I said, unimpressed.

I peered out of the window but couldn’t see Toscha in the garden. I slipped on my coat and, taking her bag of favourite cat biscuits with me, went into the garden. I shook the bag while calling her name, but no Toscha came running. It was now nearly 11.20, and apart from Lucy being disappointed when she arrived that there was no Toscha when I’d promised there would be, I was also growing concerned. Toscha was a creature of habit and didn’t normally go outside and vanish in the middle of the morning, especially in winter.

Then I heard Adrian shout from inside the house: ‘Mum! Come in. She was on the bed in Lucy’s room! You shut her in!’

Relieved, I returned indoors, thinking she must have crept into Lucy’s room without me seeing her when I’d checked it earlier. I’d closed Lucy’s bedroom door as I’d come out, and her room had been the one room I hadn’t thought to search. Fortunately, Adrian had.

‘Well done, love,’ I said, as he set Toscha on the sofa ready to receive our new arrival.

It wasn’t a moment too soon, for as Toscha curled herself into a ball, comfortably resting her head on her front paws and unaware what all the fuss had been about, the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be them,’ I said.

Paula slipped her hand into mine and came with me down the hall to answer the door, while Adrian stayed on the sofa stroking Toscha. I felt a little rush of nervousness as I opened the door, and Paula squeezed my hand.

‘Hello,’ I smiled at the three of them.

‘Hi, Cathy,’ Pat said brightly. ‘This is my husband Terry, and this is Lucy.’

‘Hi, Terry. Hello, love,’ I said to Lucy. ‘Come on in.’

Lucy’s large dark eyes rounded as she looked at me. She was a petite, slender child with gorgeous long black silky hair, which hung loosely over her shoulders. She was wearing a smart winter coat, open at the front, with new jeans and a pink jumper underneath. I smiled at her again as she came in.

‘I’ll get the cases,’ Terry said.

‘Thanks. I’ll leave the door on the latch,’ I said, as he disappeared back down the path. Then to Lucy and Pat I said: ‘This is Paula. Adrian and Toscha are in the living room – straight down the hall.’

‘What a nice house,’ Pat said encouragingly to Lucy as we went down the hall.

Lucy didn’t reply; I didn’t expect her to – even Paula was nervous and still had her hand in mine.

As we entered the living room, Adrian looked up from stroking Toscha and said, ‘Hi.’

‘Hi,’ Pat said. ‘Nice to meet you. This is Lucy.’

Adrian threw Lucy a small self-conscious smile. She was standing close to Pat, head slightly bowed and looking at the cat from under her fringe. ‘Shall I take your coat, love?’ I suggested. ‘It’s warm in here.’

Without speaking or looking at me, Lucy slipped out of her coat and handed it to me. The poor child looked so lost and ill at ease, it broke my heart. ‘I’m sure Toscha would like a stroke from you, too,’ I said, trying to make her feel at home.

Adrian looked at Lucy and threw her another smile. Then, very gingerly, almost cat-like herself, she lightly crossed the room and sat on the sofa on the other side of Toscha and began gently stroking her. Paula found the courage to let go of my hand and went over to join Lucy and Adrian, standing just in front of them to form a little semi-circle as they all stroked the cat. Toscha had never had so much attention and was purring loudly. Pat and I sat in the chairs watching them and made light conversation as Terry brought Lucy’s bags into the hall. He closed the front door and then joined us in the living room, saying hello to Adrian. ‘Nice garden,’ he said, nodding at the view through the patio doors.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘We make the most of it in the summer.’

There was a short awkward silence and then, turning to Pat, and following my advice about keeping their departure short, Terry said, ‘Well, I suppose we’d better be off.’

Pat nodded. ‘We’ll phone you in a week,’ she said to Lucy.

Lucy didn’t reply or look up but concentrated on petting Toscha. Pat then went over and kissed the top of Lucy’s head. I thought Lucy might have wanted a hug or, perhaps finding separating difficult, cry, but she didn’t. She just gave a small nod and then said in a very quiet voice, without looking up: ‘Goodbye.’