A Long Way from Home: Part 1 of 3. Cathy Glass

here tomorrow at eleven and meet Anastasia. Now I have to go to my wife. Good night.’ The line went dead.

      Chapter Two

       Another Chance?

      Elaine and Ian were up most of that night discussing what had happened and what they should do. Prior to the doctor’s phone call they’d decided to bring forward their flight and return home childless, yet now they were being offered the chance of another child, reigniting their hopes of having a family of their own. They were calmer now but still had big concerns. This new child, Anastasia, had appeared very quickly, and with no background information they were imagining all sorts of horrifying scenarios, including that she could have been abducted from her natural family or the parents might have been put under pressure or even paid to give her up. Yet while the care worker they’d seen the day before probably didn’t have the authority to find them another child, Dr Ciobanu certainly did. He was a recognized professional in the adoption process in this country and had been recommended to them by other couples who had successfully adopted through him.

      Ian and Elaine talked themselves round in circles. They knew nothing about Anastasia, yet other couples had told them not to place too much emphasis on any details given before they’d seen the child, especially the child’s birthday. Record keeping was haphazard in this country, and if a woman gave birth in a remote village it could take her weeks to register the child or get to the orphanage. Also, children going for adoption were portrayed in the best possible light, as developing countries such as this one relied on international adoption to take their orphaned and abandoned children. There was a lot to consider, but in the early hours they decided they would visit Dr Ciobanu as he’d asked and at least hear what he had to say about Anastasia, and take it from there.

      ‘Perhaps it will be all right,’ Elaine said hopefully as she finally drifted off to sleep.

      ‘Whatever the outcome, I will always love you,’ Ian replied.

      They were awake again at 5 a.m., showered and dressed, and then went down for breakfast as soon as the restaurant opened at 6.30 a.m. On the way through the lobby Ian stopped off at reception and booked a cab to pick them up at 10.30. The hotel had been recommended by Dr Ciobanu and the cab firm it used had experience of ferrying couples who were adopting.

      There were only four others in the restaurant having breakfast at that time, all businessmen in suits. The hotel had thirty rooms, and although it had been recommended by the doctor, as far as Elaine and Ian knew they were the only would-be adopters staying at present. Some of the staff knew why they were there, and when they’d checked in the receptionist had said she would arrange for a cot to be put in their room once the adoption had gone through.

      Unsurprisingly, Elaine had little appetite that morning and only managed half a croissant and a cup of coffee. Ian, who showed his anxiety in different ways, had scrambled eggs on toast, but kept checking his phone and nervously straightening the napkin on his lap. Neither of them spoke. Not only were they exhausted from the emotion of the day before and too little sleep, but there was also nothing left to say. Either they still had a chance of adopting or they’d return home as they’d arrived – a couple and not a family.

      During breakfast an email came through to Ian’s phone from one of the families they’d got to know online who were also going through the process of adopting. They were eager to know how the meeting with Lana had gone. ‘I’ll reply later,’ Ian said. ‘I can’t face it now.’

      After breakfast, they returned to their hotel room and tried to read the books they’d brought with them, but concentrating was near impossible. At 10.20 they were in the lobby waiting for the cab. They knew that little happened on time in this country – sometimes it happened earlier but more often late. The cab arrived at 10.40; not the same driver as the day before but he knew why they were there. Elaine and Ian would have liked to be left to their thoughts during the journey, but the driver was chatty and direct.

      ‘You going to adopt?’ he asked almost as soon as they got in.

      ‘We’re not sure,’ Ian replied.

      ‘Why not?’ He glanced in the rear-view mirror, puzzled. Elaine moved out of his line of vision so she didn’t have to talk.

      ‘Our baby was very sick and died,’ Ian said.

      ‘Oh. I’m sorry. They find you another one?’

      ‘Possibly.’

      ‘Boy or girl?’

      ‘Girl,’ Ian said.

      ‘I have children, a boy and a girl,’ the driver continued amicably as he drove. ‘You meet your child today?’

      ‘Maybe, we don’t know yet,’ Ian replied. Elaine gazed out of her side window. Although international adoption was well known in this country, it was still a source of interest to the locals, possibly because adoption wasn’t part of their culture, hence all the state-run orphanages. They didn’t adopt or foster and didn’t really understand why anyone would.

      ‘Many couples adopt from here,’ the driver said as he drove.

      ‘Yes, I know,’ Ian agreed.

      ‘This is your first trip here?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Some couples come back two, three times to adopt. They must like our children a lot.’ He grinned and Ian met his gaze in the mirror with a polite smile. ‘I take one couple three times to orphanages,’ he continued. ‘They from America. They adopt brothers and sisters. Six in all! Very good people with lots of money.’

      Ian nodded. ‘But we don’t have lots of money. We saved up to make this trip.’

      ‘You good people too.’

      Yet while it was a strain having to make conversation, hearing about successful adoptions was heartening and proof that the system did work. Perhaps they had just been very unlucky and it would work out in the end. Perhaps.

      It was 11.15 when the cab pulled up in the lane outside the orphanage. Ian opened the door to get out. ‘You wait here?’ he asked the driver.

      ‘Yes. No rush. Very important you spend time with your child.’

      There wasn’t a meter running – cab journeys were quoted in advance and included any waiting time. Elaine joined Ian in front of the high metal gate as the driver wound down his window and lit up a cigarette. A wire-netting fence ran all around the perimeter of the orphanage, with a patch of land separating it from the building. This strip of land would have made a good outside children’s play area had it not been so badly overgrown. Ian rattled the metal gate – the only way of attracting attention, as there wasn’t a bell – and they waited. There’d been some rain in the night, and although the sun wasn’t out the humidity had risen. Elaine knocked away a fly.

      ‘They come soon,’ the driver said, and sounded his car horn.

      The door to the orphanage opened and the care worker who’d dealt with them the day before came out, keys on the short chain at her waist. Elaine took a deep breath. She really didn’t like the woman. Without acknowledging them, the care worker nodded to the driver and unlocked the gate. ‘Thank you,’ Ian said, and they waited just inside while she locked the gate. They then followed her up the cracked cement path and in through the main door, which again she locked behind them.

      ‘You wait here,’ she said brusquely, and disappeared down the corridor, her shoes clipping heavily on the hard, tiled floor. A solitary child screamed in the distance and Ian threw Elaine a reassuring smile.

      A few minutes later Dr Ciobanu appeared from the corridor. Although they’d never met him, they recognized him from his photograph online. In his mid-forties, of average height and build, he was wearing a dark suit with an open-neck shirt.

      ‘Pleased