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

I said goodbye and then waited to one side while she said goodbye to Lucy. I was anticipating that she would give her daughter a hug or goodbye kiss – even friends do that – but she didn’t. Standing a little in front of Lucy, she said, ‘Goodbye, love. Look after yourself.’

‘Goodbye,’ Lucy said, not expecting any more. It was one of the saddest goodbyes I’ve ever witnessed.

Without saying anything further, Lucy came over to me and slipped her hand into mine.

‘Be good,’ Bonnie called, as we turned to leave.

‘She always is,’ I said.

We walked down the corridor and through the double doors. My immediate impression of Bonnie was that she wasn’t callous or uncaring, but just completely detached from her daughter. There appeared to be no bond between them, other than the genetic link. I was shocked, and sad for Lucy, but it did explain a lot of what I knew about her. I was so preoccupied and choked up by what I’d just seen that I walked straight past the visitors’ book.

‘Hey, Cathy!’ Lucy said, drawing me to a halt. ‘You’ve forgotten to sign out.’

We returned to the visitors’ book and both signed our names and wrote our time of departure. Then outside we walked in silence. Lucy had her hand in mine again and a couple of times I glanced at her, feeling I should say something, but not knowing what. She clearly knew her mother better than I did, and had known what to expect, while I’d had a completely different set of expectations, based on how I would feel at being reunited with my daughter after six months’ separation. Quite clearly Stevie had had different expectations too – unrealistic expectations. If she phoned I’d tell her what had happened, or she’d read the supervisor’s report in a couple of days. Either way, regular contact wasn’t going to happen, and for reasons I really didn’t understand.

In the car I turned in my seat to face Lucy, who was fastening her seatbelt. ‘Are you all right, love?’ I asked gently. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m all right,’ she said quietly. ‘Mum’s like that because she was hurt badly when she was little. She can’t let people close to her, not even me, because of the horrible things some people did to her.’

I looked at Lucy, shocked, and my heart ached – not only for Lucy, but for Bonnie too. How easily Lucy’s life could have followed that of her mother’s had she not been brought into care.

‘It’s not her fault she’s like she is,’ Lucy added. ‘I don’t blame her any more.’

‘No, it’s not her fault,’ I said sadly.

Lucy had previously told me things about her mother and her life before coming into care – usually on the Sundays when Adrian and Paula were out with their father and it was just the two of us – but she hadn’t told me this before. ‘I think your mother had a very difficult life,’ I said, still turned in my seat facing her. ‘I think she gets by as best she can. It’s such a pity someone didn’t help her, like you’re being helped now. I’m pleased you’ve forgiven her.’ For so often when children are failed by their parents they become consumed by anger, which can easily blight the rest of their lives.

That night I gave Lucy an extra-big hug. Mr Bunny was tucked in beside her on the pillow, and sometimes, like tonight, she asked me to kiss him goodnight. Although Lucy must have been affected by seeing her mother and all the emotions, memories, hopes and disappointments it no doubt resurrected, she wasn’t showing it. I wondered what was really going on in her thoughts.

‘Is there anything you want to talk about?’ I asked gently, as I sat on the bed.

Lucy shook her head. ‘Not really. Mum will be fine. She can look after herself,’ she said, as though reassuring us both.

‘I’m sure she can,’ I said. ‘And when she feels up to it, she’ll get in touch with Stevie and arrange to see you again.’

Lucy looked thoughtful and then frowned. ‘I think I’ll have left you by then.’

‘Yes, if it’s in six months’ time or more, you’ll probably be with your forever family, but they’ll take you to contact.’

Lucy frowned again and then said, ‘I wish I could stay here with you.’

‘Oh, love,’ I said, stroking her forehead. ‘I know how unsettling this must be for you.’

‘Mum asked me if I was staying with you and I told her I couldn’t. But why can’t I stay, Cathy?’

This was so difficult. Lucy knew the care plan, as Bonnie would, and I wondered what they’d said about this in contact. ‘Do you remember I explained that Stevie was trying to find your relatives to see if one of them could look after you?’ I said. Lucy nodded. ‘And if there isn’t anyone suitable, Stevie’s going to find a permanent foster family for you, where one of the parents is Thai or Asian, so you’ll fit in.’

‘But I fit in here, don’t I?’ Lucy said.

‘Yes, of course you do, love. I think the world of you, so do Adrian and Paula, but it’s not my decision. Social workers like children to be with families that have the same ethnic background. Do you remember I explained what that meant?’

Lucy nodded solemnly. ‘What if I let you put that flag up in my bedroom? Could I stay then?’

‘Oh, love,’ I said again, a lump rising in my throat. ‘I wish it was that simple.’

Lucy then gave a small mischievous smile. ‘If Stevie lets me stay, I’ll stop letting Toscha in when she visits.’

I laughed. ‘You need to stop letting her in now,’ I said playfully. ‘Stevie’s coming next week for your review, and I don’t want her sneezing the whole time.’

‘I’m not coming to my review,’ Lucy said matter-of-factly.

‘I know, and no one is going to make you. But if you feel able, you could come in for a few minutes. We’re having it here, so you can stay for as long or as short a time as you like.’ Lucy shook her head. The social workers usually expected a child of her age to be present for part of their review, unless there was a good reason why they shouldn’t or couldn’t attend.

‘No, not going at all,’ Lucy said, her face setting. ‘I hate social workers.’

‘All right, I hear you,’ I said. ‘But now I want you to forget about hating and think of some nice things so you can get off to sleep. We’re going on holiday in a few weeks and then in September it’s your birthday. You’ll have to tell me what you want to do for your birthday treat, and what presents you’d like.’

A smile replaced Lucy’s frown. ‘That’s better,’ I said.

‘I’m looking forward to going on holiday, and my birthday,’ Lucy said, snuggling her face against Mr Bunny. ‘Will you take lots of photographs of me, so I can remember the nice time I had after I’ve gone?’

‘Yes, of course, love. You’ll have lots of happy memories to take with you.’

‘I’d rather have you,’ Lucy said, and I could have wept.

Chapter Nineteen

Happy Holiday (#ua09b4550-d9a9-5443-8896-095ec97e04ad)

Lucy’s review began at eleven o’clock the following Tuesday. Stevie, Jill, Peter (the reviewing officer) and myself were seated in my living room with coffee and biscuits. The children were amusing themselves upstairs, and I’d said that Lucy didn’t want to attend her review. Lucy’s mother would have been invited to the review, but she’d disappeared again, without leaving a forwarding address. Lucy’s teacher, Miss Connor, had been invited, but because it was the school holidays she was away, so she had sent in her report, which the reviewing officer had just finished reading out. The gist of her report was that Lucy was making steady progress, but still found it difficult to make friends, which I knew from the consultation evening. Miss Connor had included some test results and finished by stating that she was grateful for the help I’d given Lucy at home and that Lucy wouldn’t have made the progress she had without it, which was kind of her. Having finished Miss Connor’s report, the reviewing officer, Peter, now turned to me: ‘Cathy, would you like to tell us how Lucy is doing, please?’

I glanced at my notes, ready to begin, but as I did all eyes went from me to the living-room door, which was now slowly opening. I thought it must be one of the children having come down from upstairs for something, perhaps even Lucy feeling brave enough to attend her review. However, once the gap was wide enough, Toscha sauntered in with a loud meow. Stevie shrieked, and I was immediately on my feet going after Toscha who, frightened by the noise, had fled into the kitchen. I let her out the back door and returned to the living room.

‘Sorry,’ I said to Stevie, as I sat down. ‘I’m sure I put her out earlier.’

Jill, who knew as well as I did how Toscha had got in, threw me a knowing look and we both stifled a smile. Fortunately, Toscha hadn’t been in the room long enough to trigger a sneezing fit in Stevie, and Peter was looking rather bemused by her hysterical reaction. Once Stevie had finished explaining why she hated cats so much and how she was allergic to them, Peter looked to me to give my report. He made notes as I spoke and I began by saying how well Lucy had settled into my family and that she had a very good relationship with my children, my parents and me. I said I was pleased with her progress at school and that she wanted to do a bit extra at home. I described her routine and what she liked to do in her spare time. I said that while I was encouraging Lucy to bring friends home she hadn’t done so yet, and I mentioned Lucy’s comment to Miss Connor about it not being worth her making friends as she would be leaving the school in under a year.

‘That’s a great pity,’ Peter said, as he wrote.

‘She could still make friends,’ Stevie said. ‘And keep in touch with them after she’s left.’

I nodded, and continued with my report, saying that Lucy was much better at managing her anger now, and that her eating had improved, although I still had concerns as her eating fluctuated and she wasn’t eating as much as she should for a child her age. I then said that Lucy had seen her mother the week before and that I didn’t think it had been a great success.

‘Perhaps we could leave contact for now and discuss that when Stevie gives her report?’ Peter said.

‘Yes, of course,’ I said. I finished my report by saying that Lucy was looking forward to our holiday and her birthday and that she was a delight to look after.

‘Thank you,’ Peter said. Then turning to Jill: ‘As Cathy’s support social worker, do you have anything to add?’