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Ian gently guided his wife to the taxi they had waiting.
‘No baby?’ the taxi driver asked, seeing their faces as they got into the back.
‘No. The baby died,’ Ian replied, his voice shaking with emotion.
‘Oh dear. It happens in this country,’ the driver said matter-of-factly. ‘Many babies die here.’
Ian nodded as Elaine wiped her eyes. They knew about the high infant mortality rate and the shocking conditions in some of the state-run orphanages that had contributed to their decision to adopt from this country.
The driver glanced at them in the rear-view mirror, started the car and pulled away. ‘I find you a healthy baby,’ he said. ‘My cousin knows a lady who finds couples babies. You no worry. She find one for you, and she very cheap.’
‘That’s kind of you, but no thank you,’ Ian said politely. They’d been warned about these types of arrangements by other couples who had adopted from this country. There were many parents on the internet who were happy to share their experiences of international adoption to help others. While not always illegal, these private adoptions were fraught with problems, and money was demanded at each stage of the process. Yet ironically they’d followed the correct procedure and look where it had got them!
‘You think about it,’ the driver said. ‘I give you my telephone number when we stop.’
‘OK,’ Ian said, without the strength to protest.
The air conditioning in the reception of their three-star hotel was a welcome relief after the heat outside. Ian and Elaine, desperate to be alone, caught the lift straight up to their room on the third floor. The maid had been in and everything was clean and tidy and the bed made. It was such a stark contrast to the poverty outside that Elaine felt a familiar stab of guilt.
‘I don’t think we’re meant to have children,’ she said, utterly defeated and sitting on the bed.
Ian sighed and poured himself a glass of water from the flask that was refreshed daily. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, as dejected as his wife. ‘I expected to face some hurdles, most of those we’ve been talking to who adopted from here did, but I never imagined this. To arrive and be told our child is dead, and then be shown other children, is heartless beyond belief.’
‘Do you think what she’s doing is legal?’ Elaine asked.
‘Who knows?’
‘Those poor children. She kept calling them babies but they weren’t. Some of them could have been six or seven, and most of them were disabled.’
‘I suppose they are the ones no one wants to adopt,’ Ian said sadly. ‘That care worker probably thought as Lana had died we’d be desperate and grateful for any child.’
‘I feel awful but I really can’t take on a disabled child. I told our social worker that right at the beginning.’ Her voice caught. ‘I’m just not cut out for it.’
‘I know, love, me neither. We’ve been honest, and it wasn’t fair to put us in that position.’ He sat beside her on the bed and rested his head back, exhausted.
They were having to deal with so many emotions: bereavement, shock, disappointment and anger. At forty-two and thirty-eight respectively, this had been Ian and Elaine’s last chance of a family. Elaine was infertile, IVF had failed, and they were considered too old to adopt a baby or very young child in their own country, the UK.
‘I think we should just go home and forget about it,’ Elaine said, leaning her head on Ian’s shoulder.
‘Yes, I agree. But I’m going to speak to that Dr Ciobanu first and tell him what I think. I don’t want other couples going through what we have.’
Half an hour later, when Ian felt up to it, he telephoned the orphanage but was told by a care worker that Dr Ciobanu wasn’t there, so he left a message (which he wasn’t sure the care worker understood), saying he’d call back later. After two hours, having heard nothing, Ian tried again and was told bluntly, ‘No doctor.’ But later that evening, with plans to change their flights to the following day so they could return home as soon as possible, they received a phone call from Dr Ciobanu.
Ian steeled himself to say what he had to; he wasn’t an aggressive man and avoided confrontation, but this needed to be said. Yet before he had a chance, Dr Ciobanu said, ‘Mr Hudson, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you today but my wife was taken to hospital.’
Thrown, Ian said, ‘Oh, I see. I hope it’s nothing serious.’
‘It wasn’t, thank you. A funny turn. She is home now. If you come to the orphanage tomorrow morning you can meet your child.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Ian said, shocked and confused. ‘We were told our baby was dead.’ Elaine moved closer to the handset so she, too, could hear.
‘Yes, Lana died,’ the doctor said evenly. ‘She was a sickly baby so perhaps it was for the best that it happened here, rather than when you got home. I have another child. She is not sickly. You come here tomorrow and I will arrange it.’ Ian glanced at Elaine, not knowing what to say. ‘You come tomorrow and we go ahead,’ he repeated. Taken completely unawares, Ian looked at Elaine for direction. ‘You come here tomorrow at eleven and meet Anastasia. Now I have to go to my wife. Good night.’ The line went dead.
Chapter Two
Another Chance? (#ulink_af92cf02-d870-5d4a-8812-27af87bd07c3)
Elaine and Ian were up most of that night discussing what had happened and what they should do. Prior to the doctor’s phone call they’d decided to bring forward their flight and return home childless, yet now they were being offered the chance of another child, reigniting their hopes of having a family of their own. They were calmer now but still had big concerns. This new child, Anastasia, had appeared very quickly, and with no background information they were imagining all sorts of horrifying scenarios, including that she could have been abducted from her natural family or the parents might have been put under pressure or even paid to give her up. Yet while the care worker they’d seen the day before probably didn’t have the authority to find them another child, Dr Ciobanu certainly did. He was a recognized professional in the adoption process in this country and had been recommended to them by other couples who had successfully adopted through him.
Ian and Elaine talked themselves round in circles. They knew nothing about Anastasia, yet other couples had told them not to place too much emphasis on any details given before they’d seen the child, especially the child’s birthday. Record keeping was haphazard in this country, and if a woman gave birth in a remote village it could take her weeks to register the child or get to the orphanage. Also, children going for adoption were portrayed in the best possible light, as developing countries such as this one relied on international adoption to take their orphaned and abandoned children. There was a lot to consider, but in the early hours they decided they would visit Dr Ciobanu as he’d asked and at least hear what he had to say about Anastasia, and take it from there.
‘Perhaps it will be all right,’ Elaine said hopefully as she finally drifted off to sleep.
‘Whatever the outcome, I will always love you,’ Ian replied.
They were awake again at 5 a.m., showered and dressed, and then went down for breakfast as soon as the restaurant opened at 6.30 a.m. On the way through the lobby Ian stopped off at reception and booked a cab to pick them up at 10.30. The hotel had been recommended by Dr Ciobanu and the cab firm it used had experience of ferrying couples who were adopting.
There were only four others in the restaurant having breakfast at that time, all businessmen in suits. The hotel had thirty rooms, and although it had been recommended by the doctor, as far as Elaine and Ian knew they were the only would-be adopters staying at present. Some of the staff knew why they were there, and when they’d checked in the receptionist had said she would arrange for a cot to be put in their room once the adoption had gone through.
Unsurprisingly, Elaine had little appetite that morning and only managed half a croissant and a cup of coffee. Ian, who showed his anxiety in different ways, had scrambled eggs on toast, but kept checking his phone and nervously straightening the napkin on his lap. Neither of them spoke. Not only were they exhausted from the emotion of the day before and too little sleep, but there was also nothing left to say. Either they still had a chance of adopting or they’d return home as they’d arrived – a couple and not a family.
During breakfast an email came through to Ian’s phone from one of the families they’d got to know online who were also going through the process of adopting. They were eager to know how the meeting with Lana had gone. ‘I’ll reply later,’ Ian said. ‘I can’t face it now.’
After breakfast, they returned to their hotel room and tried to read the books they’d brought with them, but concentrating was near impossible. At 10.20 they were in the lobby waiting for the cab. They knew that little happened on time in this country – sometimes it happened earlier but more often late. The cab arrived at 10.40; not the same driver as the day before but he knew why they were there. Elaine and Ian would have liked to be left to their thoughts during the journey, but the driver was chatty and direct.
‘You going to adopt?’ he asked almost as soon as they got in.
‘We’re not sure,’ Ian replied.
‘Why not?’ He glanced in the rear-view mirror, puzzled. Elaine moved out of his line of vision so she didn’t have to talk.
‘Our baby was very sick and died,’ Ian said.
‘Oh. I’m sorry. They find you another one?’
‘Possibly.’
‘Boy or girl?’
‘Girl,’ Ian said.
‘I have children, a boy and a girl,’ the driver continued amicably as he drove. ‘You meet your child today?’
‘Maybe, we don’t know yet,’ Ian replied. Elaine gazed out of her side window. Although international adoption was well known in this country, it was still a source of interest to the locals, possibly because adoption wasn’t part of their culture, hence all the state-run orphanages. They didn’t adopt or foster and didn’t really understand why anyone would.
‘Many couples adopt from here,’ the driver said as he drove.
‘Yes, I know,’ Ian agreed.
‘This is your first trip here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Some couples come back two, three times to adopt. They must like our children a lot.’ He grinned and Ian met his gaze in the mirror with a polite smile. ‘I take one couple three times to orphanages,’ he continued. ‘They from America. They adopt brothers and sisters. Six in all! Very good people with lots of money.’
Ian nodded. ‘But we don’t have lots of money. We saved up to make this trip.’
‘You good people too.’
Yet while it was a strain having to make conversation, hearing about successful adoptions was heartening and proof that the system did work. Perhaps they had just been very unlucky and it would work out in the end. Perhaps.
It was 11.15 when the cab pulled up in the lane outside the orphanage. Ian opened the door to get out. ‘You wait here?’ he asked the driver.
‘Yes. No rush. Very important you spend time with your child.’
There wasn’t a meter running – cab journeys were quoted in advance and included any waiting time. Elaine joined Ian in front of the high metal gate as the driver wound down his window and lit up a cigarette. A wire-netting fence ran all around the perimeter of the orphanage, with a patch of land separating it from the building. This strip of land would have made a good outside children’s play area had it not been so badly overgrown. Ian rattled the metal gate – the only way of attracting attention, as there wasn’t a bell – and they waited. There’d been some rain in the night, and although the sun wasn’t out the humidity had risen. Elaine knocked away a fly.
‘They come soon,’ the driver said, and sounded his car horn.
The door to the orphanage opened and the care worker who’d dealt with them the day before came out, keys on the short chain at her waist. Elaine took a deep breath. She really didn’t like the woman. Without acknowledging them, the care worker nodded to the driver and unlocked the gate. ‘Thank you,’ Ian said, and they waited just inside while she locked the gate. They then followed her up the cracked cement path and in through the main door, which again she locked behind them.
‘You wait here,’ she said brusquely, and disappeared down the corridor, her shoes clipping heavily on the hard, tiled floor. A solitary child screamed in the distance and Ian threw Elaine a reassuring smile.
A few minutes later Dr Ciobanu appeared from the corridor. Although they’d never met him, they recognized him from his photograph online. In his mid-forties, of average height and build, he was wearing a dark suit with an open-neck shirt.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said pleasantly and, smiling, shook Elaine’s hand, then Ian’s. ‘So you decided to give me another chance?’ Ian nodded awkwardly. ‘No worries,’ he said, clapping Ian on the arm. ‘Come through to my office and we can talk.’
His office overlooked the front of the orphanage, and through the window they could see their cab waiting in the lane. Dr Ciobanu motioned for them to sit down. The room was small and cramped, with an old wooden table acting as a desk in the centre, and three chairs. Filing cabinets lined one wall and a fan stood on top of one beside an open bottle of water. ‘Would you like a drink?’ the doctor offered, going to the bottle.
‘No, thank you,’ they both said politely. The bottle would very likely have been refilled with tap water, and while this was safe for locals to drink – they’d built up a resistance to its bacteria – it upset foreigners’ stomachs.
Placing his tumbler of water on the table, Dr Ciobanu opened the top drawer of a filing cabinet and removed a folder. ‘Your paperwork,’ he said, returning to sit behind the table. He carefully opened the file before him. Elaine and Ian saw the top page was their initial application sent a year ago, with passport-sized photographs of both of them.
‘I have the rest of the paperwork you need in my briefcase,’ Ian said.
Dr Ciobanu nodded and then, folding his arms, leaned forward in earnest. ‘I am sorry you were disappointed yesterday. It is not good practice to have a couple arrive and find the child is no longer with us. It is a pity I could not be here to tell you personally. We are very short-staffed and my two care workers have no time for breaking bad news gently.’ He threw them a knowing smile and Ian, at least, started to relax.
‘As I said last night on the phone,’ the doctor continued, ‘Lana was a very sick baby. We did our best to save her but it wasn’t enough. She died peacefully in her sleep.’
‘What was the matter with her?’ Elaine asked, her voice slight.
‘She wouldn’t feed, something wrong in her gut, but you needn’t worry about that. We have to look to your future.’ His gaze went from one to the other, gauging their reaction, and Ian nodded. ‘I do not have a photograph yet of Anastasia. She has only just been given up for adoption. But she is healthy and you can see her shortly. Her mother works abroad a lot, as many single women here have to. She has been leaving her with us since she was a baby. Now the mother has met a man who is going to marry her, so she will be leaving this country for good for a better life.’
‘And she can’t take her child with her?’ Elaine asked, horrified.
‘No. It happens,’ Dr Ciobanu said matter-of-factly. ‘The man may not even know she has a child. The mother believes her daughter will be better off here in the orphanage, as many parents in this country do.’ He sighed with exasperation, as though he didn’t agree with this. ‘I will explain to the mother that her daughter will have a better life being adopted by you, rather than being left here.’
‘So the child isn’t free for adoption yet?’ Ian asked.
‘No, but she soon will be. I will speak to the mother today and get her to sign the forms, which I will take to the court personally.’ Elaine and Ian knew that this wasn’t so unusual. Part of the doctor’s role was as an adoption facilitator – arranging and completing the formalities of adoption as well as advising the adopters on procedure. ‘The court will set a hearing date and once the adoption has gone through you will be issued with a new birth certificate, passport and visa for the child.’ This was standard and what would have happened with Lana’s adoption had she lived.
‘How long will all this take if we decide to go ahead?’ Ian asked. ‘With Lana we were already a long way through the process. It would have been completed in three to four weeks. I have to work; we can’t stay here indefinitely.’ He hoped this didn’t sound abrupt but they had to be practical.
The doctor gave a small shrug. ‘It shouldn’t take too long. The legal system in this country can run slowly at times, but I will do everything in my power to speed things up.’ Which didn’t really tell them much.
‘How old is the child?’ Elaine finally thought to ask, overwhelmed.
‘Two and a quarter,’ the doctor said, glancing at a handwritten note tucked into their file. ‘Don’t worry, I will make sure you have all the correct paperwork for her, including a medical.’
‘She’s a lot older than Lana,’ Elaine said.
‘Yes, but she is strong and healthy. Why don’t you come and meet her? I am sure you will be happy.’ Dr Ciobanu immediately stood. He was used to having his word acted on, although he came across as caring. Ian and Elaine knew he only charged the minimum for his services, while some adoption facilitators were growing rich on the proceeds of international adoption, although no money reached the natural parents. It was illegal to give them anything – gifts or money.
Elaine’s heart missed a beat as she tucked her hand into Ian’s and they followed Dr Ciobanu out of his office. Could it possibly be? The moment they’d anticipated, worked towards and dreamed of for so long? Was it possible that after all the ups and downs and disappointments, they were going to meet a child who could be theirs? Ian’s hand tightened in hers and Elaine knew he was as nervous as she was.
Chapter Three
Anxious (#ulink_8580edf3-0ebc-59fa-b172-70a7242ad962)
‘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.
