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
‘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
