Telling Lilly about my plan was easy. It was like playing God, actually; I was handing someone a miracle at the time when they needed it most. She was sobbing from the moment I walked into the room pushing the little trolley that contained her baby, and that was before I even told her the best part.
‘Mrs Baxter! Oh, Mrs Baxter …’ She sobbed and cradled her baby and tried to hug me all at the same time, and I gave her a brief embrace but then stepped away to organise the camera. I had borrowed it back from Tania on the way to the hospital, and while her joy was still fresh I took a single photo of Lilly with her daughter. The radiant sparkle in Lilly’s brown eyes was almost breathtaking.
That was motherhood, right there, evolving before me. It was hope out of total despair. That was what I wanted for myself, but even more importantly, hope was the very thing that I went into social work to achieve. I felt a burst of pride that had been entirely missing from my life for five months.
‘I can’t promise this is all going to work,’ I felt I should add, and I saw her try to brace herself a little. ‘There’s the matter of your wedding, Lilly. You’ll have to find some way to arrange that, but maybe the lawyer James engaged should be able to help. I think that because you’re sixteen a judge can give consent if your father won’t, and I’d be very happy to provide a reference or two if that will help.’
‘Okay, yes – I will write James as soon as you leave.’ Her voice was always just a little lyrical, but when Lilly was excited or upset, she spoke in a song. She’d explained to me that it was a technique she’d figured out to manage her stutter, but like a lot of Lilly’s quirks and features, I found it to be utterly charming. ‘And are you sure you can arrange all of this? Will you just bring her to work with you?’
I shook my head, and inhaled deeply, savouring the moment.
‘No, I won’t be working after today. I’m going to resign.’
‘You are? But Mrs Baxter, that’s – I am so happy for you, but so sad for the girls in the home.’
‘It’s the right thing to do, Lilly. It’s just taken me a while to figure out how to go about it. Your little girl is helping me out, too. And speaking of which, what exactly are we calling her?’
Lilly drew a sharp intake of breath, and gave me such a look of wonder and joy that I actually laughed. ‘She’s your daughter. You really should name her.’
‘I wanted to name her after my grandmother, Sabina,’ Lilly whispered, then she flashed me a teary grin. ‘These are happy tears, Mrs Baxter. I never thought . . . I never even dared to hope I’d get to give her a name. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘Thank me when we pull this off, okay?’ I said, as gently as I could. ‘We’ve still got a long way to go yet.’
I left her with my phone number and instructions to call me when she’d spoken with James, and in return I promised I’d arrange for one of the midwives to post her next letter to him in case I didn’t make it back in before she was discharged.
I took baby Sabina back to the nursery, and made my way down the long hallways back to my office. I walked slowly, giving myself plenty of time to change my mind. Once I resigned, there was no turning back.
But I knew that I’d never want to turn back. What I wanted was to help people . . . starting with Lilly. I smiled to myself as I opened the office door. June was on the phone, talking to the parent of a prospective resident, and when she hung up she gave me a curious glance.
‘You’re looking a lot happier than I expected today. I didn’t realise you were sick yesterday, I heard you’d been ill in the maternity ward.’
‘It was just – well, I went in to check on the birth and it was quite overwhelming, she had a very difficult time of it.’ I took a deep breath, and spread my hands wide. ‘The truth is, I have been doing quite a lot of soul searching . . . well, Graeme and I have together. And we’ve decided that we are ready to adopt. I know Liliana’s baby doesn’t have a placement yet. I think we’d make a good home for her.’
In my time at the maternity home, I’d noticed that June had two entirely different personas. The June who raised terror in the hearts of the residents was cold and hard, and absolutely ruthless in her pursuit of what she deemed to be the best thing for the babies. When our office door was shut, June was warm and friendly, reasonably patient with my struggles to settle into my role, and quite motherly towards me once she learned about my fertility issues.
I held my breath when I finished speaking, but I needn’t have worried. June’s face lit up and she clasped her hands together in delight.
‘That’s absolutely marvellous news, Megan. Congratulations. I’m so sorry to lose you, but I was hoping that you’d make this decision for yourself sooner or later.’