Epilogue

As I thought might happen, Mr and Mrs Jones didn’t keep in touch, and although we appreciated why, we were sad at not seeing Alice. Having had Alice returned to them, Mrs and Mrs Jones just wanted to get on with their lives and didn’t want the constant reminder of the past that our presence would have evoked. We wrote to Alice, sent her birthday and Christmas cards but didn’t hear anything back. It wasn’t for me to phone the social worker and ask about Alice: now Alice had left me I was no longer ‘involved’ in her case, so I didn’t have the right to know, although it would have been nice.

Ten months after Alice had left, however, Jill bumped into Kitty in the social services’ offices. They were both in a hurry, on their way to meetings, but Jill managed to ask after Alice. Kitty said she was very well and happy, and was still with her grandparents. She thanked me for our letter and cards, which Alice had shown to her.

Then six months later (sixteen months after Alice had left us) I was shopping in a department store in a neighbouring town when I spotted Mr and Mrs Jones in the glass and china section. They didn’t see me. I watched them from a distance for a while, uncertain if I should approach them, and of the reception I might receive. I watched them for a bit longer; then, throwing caution to the wind, went over and said: ‘Hello. Do you remember me?’

They looked up from the display stand of cut-glass ornaments, surprised and clearly taken aback. Recovering first, Mr Jones shook my hand, as Mrs Jones returned the ornament she’d been examining to the display.

‘Of course, Cathy,’ Mr Jones said. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m very well, thank you. And yourselves?’

‘We’re fine, thank you,’ Mrs Jones said, now shaking my hand.

‘You’re certainly looking very well,’ I said.

‘So are you.’

There was an awkward silence before Mrs Jones said, ‘Alice is very well too.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Is she still living with you?’

‘Oh no,’ Mr Jones said, surprised. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘No,’ I shook my head. ‘Once a child leaves me I’m not kept informed unless the relatives keep in touch.’ I hadn’t intended it as a criticism, just a statement of fact, but Mr and Mrs Jones looked guilty and apologized.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mrs Jones said. ‘I thought someone would have told you. Alice went to live with her mother and Mike three months ago. Leah and Mike got married last August and I’m happy to say Alice will have baby brother or sister in eight weeks’ time.’

‘That’s fantastic news,’ I said. ‘I’m so pleased. Please pass on my congratulations and best wishes to them all.’

‘Yes, we’re very happy,’ Mrs Jones said. ‘And also that Mike is going to adopt Alice.’

‘Really?’ I said.

She nodded. ‘They’re going through the process now. It takes a long time, but Kitty has said there shouldn’t be a problem. Chris didn’t see Alice again after she left you, and he’s not objecting to the adoption. In fact Kitty said he seemed pretty relieved.’

‘Probably because he won’t have to pay child maintenance,’ Mr Jones put in.

‘Well, whatever the reason,’ Mrs Jones said kindly, ‘it’s good news for Alice.’

‘Absolutely,’ I agreed. ‘Adrian, Lucy and Paula will be delighted when I tell them.’

‘How are your family?’ Mr Jones asked.

‘They’re very well, thank you.’

There was another awkward silence before I said, ‘Well, I’d best be getting on then. It was nice bumping into you, and I’m so pleased everything is working out. Please give Alice our love.’

‘Yes, we will.’ They nodded. ‘And thanks again for all you did,’ Mrs Jones said. ‘We did appreciate it.’

We shook hands and I moved away, leaving Mr and Mrs Jones to the display of glass. Whether or not they would tell Alice they’d seen me I wasn’t sure, but I was very pleased and relieved to hear that things were working out for Alice and her family.

Later that afternoon when Adrian, Lucy and Paula arrived home from school, I told them I’d bumped into Alice’s grandparents and gave them the news. They too were pleased for Alice, although they said it was a pity they couldn’t see her from time to time, or even speak to her on the phone.

That evening when I said goodnight to Lucy she suddenly threw her arms around my neck, hugging and kissing me for all she was worth. ‘I hope Alice knows just how lucky she is being adopted,’ Lucy said. ‘I know how lucky I am to have you.’

I smiled. Two weeks previously – a year after starting the process – I had finally been allowed to adopt Lucy. ‘I’m sure she does,’ I said. ‘And I know how lucky I am to have you – very, very lucky indeed.’