A Long Way from Home. Cathy GlassЧитать онлайн книгу.
highly unreliable and most cab drivers were happy to wait for hours if necessary. It added a little to their income and saved the clients a lot of aggravation.
Ian rattled the gate to alert the staff to their presence and the driver gave a blast of the car horn. A few moments later Dr Ciobanu appeared.
‘Good afternoon,’ he called brightly, coming down the path. He unlocked the gate and warmly shook their hands and said hello to the driver. ‘So are we all good?’ he asked Ian and Elaine as they followed him inside.
‘Yes, thank you,’ they replied.
‘You slept well? And the hotel is comfortable?’ he asked, showing them into his office.
‘Yes, it’s fine, thank you,’ Ian said. Although staying in the hotel was purely practical. They’d been warned that the cheaper guest houses were very basic and unclean and the court wouldn’t be happy knowing the child would be taken to one of them. There would be at least a week between the adoption order being granted and the adoption papers, her passport and visa being issued. During which time Anastasia would be with them. While many children lived in far worse conditions than those found in guest houses, the courts expected better from the adoptive parents.
The orphanage was quiet as usual, and Ian and Elaine sat at the table in Dr Ciobanu’s office as he offered them a glass of water, which they politely refused. He sat opposite them, their folder and other paperwork on the table in front of him. ‘So I have spoken to Anastasia’s mother,’ he said, taking a sip of his water. ‘She has agreed to you seeing the child for an hour each day before the adoption, but she has requested you do not take her outside.’
‘OK,’ Ian said. ‘Can I ask why?’
‘It’s normal. The mothers are concerned you may abduct or harm the child.’ They nodded. ‘She has also asked that she has new clothes. Again, this is usual. She is very poor and what we have at the orphanage is basic. You have brought some with you?’
‘Yes,’ Elaine said. It was on their instruction sheet. ‘But they were for Lana. They are far too small for Anastasia. We were looking at some children’s clothes this morning at the local supermarket but they didn’t have much choice.’
‘No. I will give you the address of a proper children’s shop in town. You can go there.’ He scribbled the address on the notepad, tore it off and passed it to Elaine. ‘It’s about a twenty-minute cab ride from your hotel. The driver will know where it is.’
‘Thank you,’ Elaine said, and tucked the paper carefully into her bag.
‘The clothes you brought with you for the other child you can donate to the orphanage,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘We rely on donations.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Ian said, although he would have liked to have been asked rather than instructed. They both knew the doctor wasn’t being rude; it was just the way so many people in this country talked. They issued instructions rather than requests, so it could sound very curt and abrupt.
‘Give me your paperwork now, please,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘You have brought the originals?’
‘Yes,’ Ian said. Unclipping his briefcase, he handed the file to the doctor. In it was their Home Study report compiled over eight months by their social worker, Certificate of Eligibility to adopt, medical reports, references, bank and mortgage statements (showing they could afford to look after a child) and police checks. All of which had been notarized and translated. Ian had another complete set in his briefcase in case any went missing. Photocopies of the documents had already been sent, but the court required the originals.
They waited patiently as Dr Ciobanu turned the pages, checking everything was there. ‘Good,’ he said, flicking through the last few. ‘It seems to be in order. Now you need to sign these forms so I can process them.’ He opened the second file and placed various forms in front of them, which they both signed. They weren’t translated but Ian and Elaine knew what they were and had been expecting them. ‘Your request to adopt Anastasia,’ Dr Ciobanu confirmed, ‘and in this one you appoint me to represent you and act on your behalf.’ The last form was a donation to the orphanage and an amount equivalent to £500 had been entered. Again, this was standard and they’d been expecting it.
‘Do you want the donation now?’ Elaine asked. The doctor nodded. She opened her handbag and took out an envelope containing the local currency and passed it to him.
‘And the second payment for you arrived in your account?’ Ian asked.
‘I haven’t checked but I am sure it has,’ the doctor said. They’d had to send an initial payment for the doctor’s services when they’d first instructed him and then a second payment to cover the court fees before they arrived. But these fees were small compared to what they’d already spent at home on their Home Study, Certificate of Eligibility, notarization, medicals, etc. All in all, including accommodation and travel, they estimated they would spend in the region of £25,000 for the adoption. A lot of money to them, but obviously worth every penny.
‘So now you have time with Anastasia,’ Dr Ciobanu said. Standing, he tucked the envelope into his inside jacket pocket. ‘I will bank this later and give you a receipt. Come this way. Anastasia is in the playroom.’
Their hopes rose at the mention of a playroom, but fell again as soon as they entered the room. It was very small and mostly empty. The only furniture was a beanbag in one corner, on which Anastasia sat waiting. Beside her were a few old and broken toys.
‘Hello, love,’ Elaine said, going over and sitting beside her on the floor. Anastasia was wearing the same dress as the day before.
‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘Let someone know when it is time for you to go.’
‘Thank you,’ Ian said. Dr Ciobanu closed the door behind them.
‘How are you, love?’ Elaine asked gently. Ian joined them on the floor, setting his briefcase to one side.
Anastasia stared at them and then tugged at the carrier bag looped over Elaine’s arm.
‘Oh, you’d like to see what I have in here, would you?’ Elaine asked, pleased. ‘Of course. These are for you.’ She took out the doll and placed it in Anastasia’s lap. ‘Doll,’ Elaine said. ‘For Anastasia. Can you say doll? Doll.’ She knew that children learned language through imitation and repetition, but Anastasia was more interested in what else was in the carrier bag.
‘Crayons,’ Elaine said, handing her the packet of wax crayons. ‘And a colouring book.’ She set it on the floor and stuffed the empty carrier bag into her pocket. Although Anastasia was only two and a quarter, Elaine and Ian had friends with children of a similar age who managed to hold a crayon and make large swirls of different colours. But Anastasia had never seen a crayon close up before, let alone used one. She spent some moments examining the packet and then, selecting the red crayon, put it in her mouth.
‘No, love,’ Elaine said, stopping her. ‘It’s not to eat. It’s a crayon, we use it for colouring in. I’ll show you.’ She took another crayon from the packet and passed one to Ian, and together they began colouring in the first picture in the book, which was of a teddy bear wearing a spotted hat and scarf.
Anastasia watched intently for a while, then lost interest and, dropping the crayon, picked up the doll. ‘Doll,’ Elaine said. ‘You like the doll?’ Anastasia stared at them as though wondering who on earth these strangers were and why they were here.
‘It must be so difficult for her,’ Ian said. ‘I hope Dr Ciobanu has tried to explain to her what is happening.’
‘I would think he has,’ Elaine said, concentrating on Anastasia.
Suddenly Anastasia jumped up and, still holding the doll, ran to the window. Ian and Elaine followed her. The only redemptive feature of the room was a large window that looked out to the woods at the back of the orphanage. There were bars at the window and the glass was dirty,