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Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.
HarperElement
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First published by HarperElement 2018
FIRST EDITION
© Cathy Glass 2018
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Cover photograph © Elly De Vries/Arcangel (posed by model)
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780008275891
Ebook Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780008275914
Version: 2018-01-15
Contents
Chapter Fifteen: Bad Parenting?
Chapter Seventeen: First Night
Chapter Eighteen: I Haven’t Got a Home
Chapter Ten
No words can describe how Elaine felt at that moment as she stood in the corridor outside the courtroom holding her daughter’s hand. Disbelief, euphoria, relief and panic combined as she stood immobile, staring after Ian. Then realization and responsibility kicked in. She was a parent and needed to behave like one. She looked at Anastasia, who returned her gaze, wide-eyed and confused. Did she understand what had just happened in the court room? Did she have any idea? She wasn’t crying or upset, so perhaps like her mother this was simply the end of a long and inevitable journey. ‘Are you all right, love?’ Elaine asked quietly, and Anastasia stared back.
Ian reappeared, out of breath and clutching his phone. ‘I got two photos of her,’ he said.
‘How was she?’ Elaine asked.
‘Upset, as you’d expect, but she wiped away her tears and put on a brave face for the photograph. I think she was pleased I’d asked her and that we are going to keep her memory alive for Anastasia.’
Ian showed her the two photographs he’d taken in the square outside the court house and Elaine’s eyes immediately filled. The woman was looking directly into the lens and trying to smile so that her daughter would have a positive image to remember her by. It felt uncomfortable standing outside the court room, looking at photographs as if they were on holiday. But these two pictures would probably be the most important either of them ever took. Elaine was pleased they were nice photos. A copy would go in Anastasia’s Life Story Book and another they’d frame and put on a shelf in her bedroom so she would grow up aware of her origins, just as the social worker had said.
Seeing Ian’s mobile phone, Anastasia agitated to look and he showed her the photographs and then put it away. Phones and cameras weren’t allowed in the court house.
‘Well,’ he said to Elaine with a big sigh, ‘we’ve finally done it! Congratulations.’ He kissed her cheek, then stooped to kiss Anastasia’s. Her skin felt cold. ‘I don’t think she’s warm enough,’ he said to Elaine. ‘Perhaps
