The court hearing date had been set for the following Thursday. And was first on the schedule, which meant another early start.
‘You know,’ I said to Mike, as I drew back the curtains to reveal another inky, depressing sky, ‘I think I need one of those daylight bulb alarm clocks – the ones that light up slowly, over half an hour, so you can ease into the day. It’s such a rude awakening, getting up in the dark.’
‘Lightweight,’ he said, laughing. ‘Welcome to my world, love. Though you’re right. It has been a wake-up call, hasn’t it? Being back in a world that’s dictated by a baby’s internal clock. Though, I have to say, I haven’t found it nearly as arduous as I expected. Not in that way, at least, which shows we’re not quite decrepit yet.’
I pulled on my dressing gown, contemplating the big day ahead. No, we weren’t, but I was at least settled on one thing I must do. Remind Christine to remind me that she’d been right in the first place. And to do so, very firmly, as often as she needed to, if I so much as squeaked a suggestion that I might be up for doing one again. Because the emotional strain was just too intense. In a few hours Jenna’s future – with or without her children – would be decided, and the anxiety was sitting like a stone in my stomach, because I had no idea how it was going to go.
We’d been given conflicting information, as well. As I’d been told, Lizzie Croft had taken over Sam Burdett’s caseload, and had evidently immersed herself in all the finer details – my reports, of course, and all the other evidence – because a couple of days later, she was on the phone to me. And not just to arrange to come and visit Seth and Tommy, for her first routine visit as their new social worker. She’d also called to give me a short interrogation (though her word was ‘chat’) about why and how there had been this new development with Jenna – that her solicitor was now asking for another option to be considered.
‘Because it’s likely to hold everything up,’ she reminded me. ‘Were you aware this was happening?’ I told her I was. There was a pause. ‘And do you know how that came about?’
I knew I had to answer that without fudging the truth, because, at least according to the powers that be at the council, I was already sailing too close to the wind. And I couldn’t lie – it was me who had suggested it.
‘I asked Sam Burdett if there were any other options available to her,’ I said. ‘And, after some deliberating, he admitted there were. And when Jenna asked me about them, of course I had to tell her. That was the extent of my involvement. From there it was her solicitor who decided there might be a case for considering one of them, as an alternative if she doesn’t win the kids back outright.’
‘Which you know is unlikely,’ Lizzie said.
‘Yes, of course. And I’ve already told Jenna that if the courts do agree an extension then we’re happy to keep her with us a while longer. Though I’m not tempting fate by imagining it’s likely. We’ll just have to see what today brings.’
‘Well, judging by the reports you’ve sent in this last week, it sounds like she’s been doing all the right things, at least. Though, as I’ve already said, whatever today brings, it’s unlikely that we’re going to get a decision straight away.’
But Jenna’s solicitor, who called later, apparently begged to differ, telling Jenna he knew the presiding judge pretty well, and that if the council didn’t win their immediate adoption order then she’d almost certainly, assuming she agreed to considering options, make her decision and act on it straight away.
Naturally, I preferred to believe the solicitor was the right one, as it would at least put an end to the uncertainty.
And now the day was here – a day that for me would mean childcare, as Jenna was being picked up before Seth was due in school, and I’d be in charge of the children for the whole day.
While Mike tiptoed downstairs – no point in waking Seth yet – I quickly showered and dressed, tied my hair into a loose ponytail, and threw on my usual baby-minding uniform of long top and leggings. Then I headed downstairs, only to bump into Jenna coming out of the kitchen, wet hair dripping onto a towel over her shoulders.
‘Oh, you’re up,’ I said. ‘I thought you’d grab at least another half an hour yet.’
‘I needed to iron my new top and wash my hair,’ she said, ‘so I have time to dry it before Seth’s up. I hope you don’t mind, but I did it over the kitchen sink, so I didn’t wake you guys banging around up in the bathroom.’
‘Oh, you’re a little love,’ I said. ‘But we wouldn’t have minded.’
‘It’s fine. Tommy’s up. Are you okay to mind him now for me so I can get myself ready?’
‘Of course, love,’ I said. ‘You go ahead.’
Though it seemed Mike was one step ahead of me. He’d made me a coffee but was now busy entertaining the baby, raising him up and down above his head, trying to make him laugh. ‘Just thought I’d have a quick cuddle before I set off to work. After all,’ he said, lowering his voice a little, ‘he might not be here when I get home.’
‘Oh, love, don’t say that!’ I said. ‘Don’t give up hope. I refuse to believe the judge will agree to adoption. I just can’t. It would be just too cruel.’
‘But it might happen. There’s no getting away from that, love. I don’t want to sound like the prophet of doom here, but you can’t get away from reality. God, I’ll miss this little one, though. My little mate –’ he said, gurning at Tommy. Who, as had been the case for a couple of weeks now, rewarded Mike with his best and brightest smile. And no wonder, I reflected, as they continued their up-and-down game, because they’d really formed a bond. And was it any wonder? Time and again during this placement, Mike had been the one holding the baby. Seth causing a huge scene? Pass Tommy to Mike. Jenna kicking off? Pass Tommy to Mike. Professionals arriving for a meeting? Pass Tommy to Mike. I had been so blindsided by all the drama, I hadn’t seen how protective and close my own husband had become with that little baby. Suddenly, I felt very foolish.
I watched him kiss Tommy gently and pop him back in his baby seat. And could have cried. I was used to getting all hurt and upset when children left us, but this attachment was one that I hadn’t even noticed. I mentally crossed my fingers even more.
But I didn’t have time to dwell, and I was kind of glad about it, because as soon as Mike left, I heard Seth yelling from upstairs.
‘Mummy! Mummy! I need a carry! My legs have been shot off.’ Now, that I wouldn’t miss. Except I would.
From then on it was a flurry of activity, getting Seth fed and dressed for nursery, while Jenna straightened her hair and did her make-up, and entertaining Baby Tommy as I did so. I had him just about ready to pop into his pram, when the doorbell went. Not a cab, but one of Jenna’s solicitor’s colleagues, from whom she’d managed to blag a lift, to save the taxi fare. ‘Gotta save the pennies,’ she’d quipped.
‘Right then,’ she said, patting herself down. ‘Have I got everything?’
‘You have, love.’
‘Do I look okay?’
‘You look beautiful.’
‘No, do I look okay? As in like a responsible adult.’
‘That too. Come on, here’s your bag. Now go!’
‘One more kiss from my babies.’ She hugged and kissed Seth and Tommy – the latter in my arms. Then Seth, perhaps tuning into the seriousness of the situation, had a wobble, flinging his arms around her legs. ‘Mummy, please don’t leave us!’
‘I’m not leaving you, you noodle! I’m just going to a very important meeting. I’ll be back before you know it,’ she added. ‘And don’t play Casey up, you hear? Or there will definitely be consequences. Right then,’ she finished, looking a good couple of inches taller, somehow. ‘I’m ready. I promise I’ll ring you whenever I can,’ she said to me. ‘And let you know how things are going.’
And then she was gone, leaving me home alone with the children. Thankfully, her words to Seth seemed to have done the trick, and he behaved beautifully all the way to school. Maybe it was because his mum had come home the last time, just as she had told him she would, but I also had an inkling that he trusted her, period. That, tiny bit by tiny bit, she was taking control. Which in itself made him feel more secure.
I had no such childish innocence to fall back on. The truth was that it could still go against her and if it did – hard though it was to even think it – there was a chance that Jenna might not come home to her kids today. Not in the way Seth assumed, anyway. Yes, she’d come back, because all her belongings were here, but if the decision was made to put the children up for adoption, there was a chance that they would decide to remove them immediately. And it was chilling to reflect that even as I had the thought, someone (or someones) might, probably would, already be on standby to take them. Not before she could say goodbye – no one would be that cruel – but the protocol would be heartbreaking even so. I’d get a call to tell me in advance that Jenna was being escorted home to say goodbye to them, and, as if that wasn’t brutal enough, she would then be taken from the house with her belongings and offered a lift to her flat, leaving her babies behind with me until social workers arrived to take them.
It would then get even worse. Given the complication of Seth’s challenging behaviours, an assessment would take place to see if they should be adopted together, or whether they’d be better off going to different parents. I could hardly bear to think that they might get split up, but the reality was that almost everyone wanted babies, rather less their challenging four-year-old brothers.
And just the thought of the aftermath – me in my empty house, Jenna in her empty flat and two bewildered children, perhaps in different homes, once again with strangers – was too much to think about. So I made myself stop. This was way too much reality to cope with.
And it wouldn’t do. I needed to keep myself focussed, and not transmit so much of a smidge of my anxiety to Seth. I scooped him up in my arms, before sending him in to Mrs Sykes.
‘Didn’t Mummy look beautiful for her meeting?’ I asked him. ‘And you know something, Seth? You look just like her.’
He treated me to a huge smile. ‘She did,’ he declared. ‘And me and my brother are the spit and dab of her.’
I laughed at the old-fashioned expression. It was one I hadn’t heard in many, many years. ‘So you are,’ I agreed. ‘Three peas in a pod.’
I could only hope it would still be the same pod by the time the day was over.