down the hall, past the pram where Harrison was still sleeping peacefully, and we both looked in.
‘You know, Jill,’ I said, ‘despite all the precautions that are being taken to protect Harrison’s true identity, it could still slip out. These things do have a habit of becoming known.’
Jill turned from the pram and looked at me, her expression deathly serious. ‘It can’t,’ she said bluntly. ‘Cheryl said that if it ever became known that Rihanna had had this baby and who the father was, she’d have to go into hiding. Her life would be in danger. I know it sounds incredible but we don’t know all the details. Cheryl is adamant that Rihanna’s worries are real and have to be acted on.’
Chapter Seven
Abandoned
After Jill’s visit and her parting comments that Rihanna’s life could be in danger if Harrison’s existence became known, I had the unsettling feeling that I was becoming involved in something I would rather not have been. It seemed incredible to me that a mother could be in danger from simply having a baby. If it was all true, and Rihanna hadn’t fabricated the story surrounding Harrison’s paternity (for whatever reason), then I felt the sooner Harrison was adopted and settled into his new life the better for all concerned. I knew, however, that it was likely to take the best part of a year for the social services to find and vet a suitable adoptive family and for the legal process to be completed.
Fortunately I was busy for most of that day, so I didn’t have too much time for speculation or worrying. Just after Jill left the health visitor telephoned and, introducing herself as Grace, asked if it would be possible for her to visit us that afternoon, so we arranged for her to come at 1.30. Harrison had a bottle at twelve noon and I had some lunch; then while he slept I went upstairs and unpacked the clothes his mother had sent. As I folded the items neatly into the wardrobe and drawers in his room my thoughts went again to Rihanna who, according to her letter, would find some comfort in knowing her baby was wearing these clothes. It touched me again, and I hoped Cheryl would make sure Rihanna knew I was carrying out her wishes when I told her the following day.
Once I’d finished unpacking the case I stowed it out of the way on top of the wardrobe and went downstairs, where Harrison was just waking.
‘Hi, little man,’ I said, gently lifting him out of the pram. ‘Aren’t you a good boy?’ He wrinkled his nose and I kissed his cheek. ‘What a little treasure you are!’ I told him as I carried him into the sitting room. He didn’t need feeding again, so I sat on the sofa and cuddled him.
When Grace, the health visitor, arrived at exactly 1.30 the house was tidy and Harrison was wide awake and sitting contently in the bouncing cradle in the sitting room. I hoped Grace was impressed.
‘He’s very alert for a newborn baby,’ Grace said, going over and making a fuss of him. She then joined me on the sofa and asked me about Harrison’s feeding and sleeping routine, before she took the red book from her bag and began talking me through it.
‘I’ve filled in as much as I can,’ she said, turning to the first page. ‘But I’ve got quite a few blanks and some of it – about the mother – won’t be relevant as he’s in care.’
As I looked at the first page I saw that Harrison’s name, date of birth, weight and length at birth had been filled in, together with the results of the standard tests that are performed on all newborn babies at the hospital just after they’re born. But the next page – about the mother’s contact details – was blank.
‘I assume I put your contact details in here?’ she asked me.
‘I should think so,’ I said. I gave Grace my full name, date of birth and GP’s name and address. ‘You’d better add “foster mother” at the top of the page,’ I suggested, which she did.
The red book is quite an important document and includes health and development checks and immunizations. It is usually kept updated until the child is five years of age, sometimes for longer. Harrison’s red book would go with him when he was adopted. There were now some questions about the mother’s health during pregnancy, which I couldn’t answer, and if the baby’s birth was normal, which Cheryl had told Jill it was.
‘As far as I know it was a normal birth,’ I said, ‘and I understand both parents were healthy and weren’t addicts.’ It was important that, as the health visitor, Grace knew this. ‘But I’m afraid I don’t know any more.’
‘I’m concerned,’ Grace said, suddenly frowning and looking from the red book to me. ‘Health visitors are supposed to visit the mother when she is expecting to make sure she has the right health care, but I was never informed this mother was expecting. I’m going to look into it when I get back to the office. Clearly something has gone wrong here and I’m wondering how many other expectant mothers have been missed off the computer system. As soon as a mother goes to her GP or clinic,’ Grace explained, ‘and has a positive pregnancy test, her details are entered on the computer so that we can look after her and the baby. Also Harrison’s mother will need a postpartum check-up – between four to six weeks after the birth – and very likely emotional support. It’s not good enough. I’ll ask my manager to look into it.’
I doubted it was a computer error that had led to Harrison’s mother not appearing on the health-care system. But if I told Grace what I knew – that Smith probably wasn’t Rihanna’s real name, and her pregnancy and indeed Harrison’s existence were a closely guarded secret and had to remain so – it would have sparked Grace’s curiosity and led to more questions. I didn’t want to be the one to send Grace on a hunt that might find Rihanna, even though she had the best of intentions.
‘I suppose it’s just one of those computer errors,’ I said vaguely.
Grace shook her head, clearly worried. ‘I’ll look into it,’ she said.
Setting the red book to one side, Grace took a set of portable scales from her large nurse’s bag and assembled them. I remembered Adrian and Paula being weighed on similar scales and I gently lifted Harrison into the scales. Grace made a note of his weight on a form and also in the red book. ‘He’s the same as his birth weight,’ Grace said. ‘Which is good. That means he’s already made up the weight he lost after the birth.’ I also knew from having Adrian and Paula that babies often lose weight immediately after birth and can take a week or longer to regain it. Grace then measured Harrison from head to toe, and tested his reflexes and responses to light and sound. Reassuring me he was perfectly normal, she made a note of the results on her form and also in the red book.
‘We carry out further developmental checks at eight weeks, six months, and then eighteen months,’ Grace said. ‘But obviously if you have any concerns about Harrison’s development contact us or your GP straightaway.’
‘I will,’ I said.
‘I’ll send a copy of all my notes to the social services for their files,’ Grace said. ‘What’s the care plan for Harrison? Rehab home?’ Grace was referring to the care plan the social services would have drawn up for Harrison’s long-term future; ‘rehab home’ was the term used for preparing a child to return home.
‘I believe he’s going to be adopted,’ I said.
A look of pain and concern flickered across Grace’s face. ‘Oh dear. Is he really? And he’s such a lovely baby. Oh well, I suppose it’s for the best. At least he’s young enough to have a fresh start.’ I nodded. As a health visitor Grace would go into homes where babies and young children didn’t have a very good start
