The Convent (23 page)

‘No no.' Cecilia shook her head. ‘No, thank you … I just wondered.'

The nurse came a few steps back into the room. ‘They're very excited,' she said carefully.

‘Are they?' Cecilia smiled.

‘Absolutely over the moon. I saw them yesterday.'

‘I'm so glad.' Cecilia looked down at the tiny, sweet face poking out of the pink blanket. ‘So they've got to know her a little?'

‘Oh yes, they have! They adore her. And they're such lovely people.'

‘Yes.'

‘I think you've chosen very wisely.'

Cecilia knew that Helen was probably referring to the parents and not to the larger decision of giving her child away, but she was touched nevertheless. It was one of the very few times during this whole business that anyone had been really positive.

‘Thank you for saying that, Helen,' she said quietly.

The older woman nodded again before leaving the room.

Lovely people!
They damned well ought to be, she'd gone to enough trouble picking them. Cecilia stood up with the baby lying in the crook of her arm, and went over to the window to look out at the big wild grey sky. It looked as if the rain had started already out in the distant Dandenong Hills. During the last three months of her pregnancy she'd gone into the adoption agency for hours at a time, looking at tapes, reading profiles, talking to caseworkers. She wanted to feel one hundred per cent sure and didn't care how long it took. The process was difficult and often very confusing. Many of the couples wanting to adopt were absolutely right in so many ways, and yet … she hadn't felt sure. It wasn't that she wanted highly successful or wealthy people. On the contrary, sometimes when couples wrote about their careers and ‘secure homes and incomes', she'd shuddered with distaste. Money wasn't what she was after. Nor were good looks or ‘breezy' personalities who ‘got things done' or ‘saw the glass half full' when times got tough. Those clichéd self-assessments put her teeth on edge.

So she decided to throw away all the criteria and trust her gut instinct. Recognising the true parents of her child would be akin to falling in love. She would
know
them when they came along.

And they did come along eventually in the persons of Bill and Elizabeth Manning, a Melbourne medical couple in their thirties. Cecilia had liked the look of them immediately and then, when she read the profile and watched the tape they'd made about themselves, she'd felt a simple, profound sense of relief.
Yes.
Of course she'd had to check references and manage the rest of the red tape, but everything she learnt about them reinforced her initial impression. These were the ones she'd been looking for all along.

For a start, they weren't as earnest and careful as some of the other applicants. Neither of them considered childlessness a tragedy, only saying that they would think a child or children a wonderful blessing.

Cecilia liked the wry, humorous way they spoke about themselves.
He's bad-tempered in the mornings. She doesn't know how to cook. Neither
of us is very tidy
. Yet they were serious people with an outward-looking attitude to life that she liked. They'd both worked overseas with aid agencies. Elizabeth had gone straight into a war zone and worked for two years as soon as she'd finished her medical degree, and her surgeon husband had done similar work in Africa. Both of them did occasional stints in remote Aboriginal communities in Central Australia.

Cecilia liked the man's heavy, plain features, and all the wrinkles and creases around his dark eyes. His wife was younger and better-looking, with short fair hair and widely spaced cornflower-blue eyes. There was such honesty in her smile and gentleness in her manner. Cecilia found herself imagining her child with this woman. She was warm. She would know instinctively how to hold a baby. She would pick the child up when she needed to be picked up, and she would read stories and make good food. There was something else about her that made Cecilia feel completely confident. This woman knew how to love. There was something wholehearted, even recklessly loving, about her.

The final aspect that won her over was that they were upfront about not having any religious affiliations whatsoever. Most of the other applicants seemed to be churchgoers, or said they were. When Cecilia read
agnostic non-churchgoers
on the form she offered up a prayer of gratitude –
Oh praise be to God! –
clapped her hands and laughed aloud.
Bill and Elizabeth, you'll do!

Cecilia was in a private room which looked out over a car park and a small square of green grass with a few straggling trees in the middle. Today there was only one group of people enjoying the grass and the trees. Lots of others crisscrossed around them on their way to somewhere else. Cecilia looked down at the sleeping babe in her arms and marvelled again at the perfection. To think that her own body had produced this lovely living creature! The eyelids fluttered every now and again like soft butterfly wings. Cecilia placed one finger on the soft little cheek and wondered if babies could dream.

‘Goodbye, little one,' she whispered. ‘May God bless you and keep you safe.'

But although the baby squirmed and yawned a couple of times her eyes remained tightly shut. One tiny fist appeared over the edge of the blanket and Cecilia tentatively put her index finger inside it. When the child's grip tightened, Cecilia smiled.

Still with her finger inside the baby's fist, Cecilia stared down at the cars and people and wondered if the couple had arrived yet. Would they have an ordinary car? A Holden, maybe, or a Honda. Perhaps they'd have a fancy European car like a Saab or a BMW. After all, they were both doctors. Whatever it was, they'd have the baby capsule all set up in the back and probably one of those big colourful bags of baby things right next to it. Inside would be a little jumpsuit, maybe, booties, nappies and bottles, and little jars of cream. Elizabeth wouldn't say much on the way in the car. But every now and again she'd look over at her husband who was driving; maybe she'd put her hand on his knee and they'd smile at each other.
Today is the day.
Cecilia could almost see them.
The day
we become parents.
She could imagine their anticipation and their joy, just as she felt her own desolation.

It had been hard to recover from the horrible scene she'd had with one of the younger nurses the day after the baby was born. Bits and pieces of their conversation kept playing back in Cecilia's mind.

The nurse, in her late twenties, had come in to take the usual observations, but there was something odd about her manner. It was as if she was holding something back; her smile was uneasy and she never looked directly at Cecilia. When she finished taking her temperature and blood pressure and began packing everything back onto the trolley she turned.

‘Do you mind if I ask you something?' she said, looking at Cecilia directly.

‘Go ahead.'

‘I know it's none of my business, but why are you giving your child away?'

‘You're right; it's none of your business.'

The young woman flinched as though she'd been slapped. ‘Sorry I asked, then,' she muttered, and then cleared her throat uneasily. ‘Well, I'm done now. If you're okay?'

Cecilia nodded.

The nurse turned her back and wheeled the trolley towards the door.

The very last thing Cecilia wanted was to continue the conversation, but she couldn't help herself. ‘I'm sorry I snapped at you,' she called. ‘The answer to your question is that I don't want a baby.'

The nurse stopped abruptly by the door. ‘But … you went ahead and
had
a baby!' she said.

‘Yes, but the pregnancy was a mistake.'

‘So
why
did you?'There was a faint note of ridicule under the outrage. ‘I mean, you're not a kid. You must know … the options.'

‘You're right. I'm thirty-six.'

‘That's five years older than me.'

‘Right.'

‘How can you
not
love her?'

‘Who says I don't love her?' Cecilia snapped.

The nurse stared back wonderingly, as though Cecilia was another species.

‘But … if you love her, then …'

‘I'm not married.'

‘But, that man who comes in …'

‘My brother.'

‘Does the father of the baby know about her?'

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

Cecilia stared at the nurse coldly and said nothing. Did this inquisitive stranger seriously expect her to explain her relationship with Peter?

The nurse seemed to read her mind, because her manner was suddenly apologetic. ‘It's just that my husband and I want a baby so much,' she said hurriedly. ‘We'd do anything for a baby and … I'm really sorry, but it just seems so unfair that you've had a beautiful baby that you don't want.'

‘Life isn't fair, though, is it?'

The nurse stared at her.

‘You think it's
fair
that mothers all over the world have to see their children die of hunger?'

‘We've been trying for eight years.'

‘So do something else!' Cecilia snapped. ‘Do something for children already born. Why is it that people think they have a right to children?'

‘That's just heartless,' the nurse mumbled.

‘Not heartless, actually,' Cecilia said. ‘I've had a child and I'm going to give her to someone who really wants her. I don't think that is heartless at all. I think that it is rather
big
-hearted of me.'

The nurse walked out and let the door slam shut behind her.

Cecilia was so angry that she wanted to fly after her and give her a good shaking.
How dare she? How bloody dare she?
Cecilia's hands were trembling and it took her the rest of the day to get over it.

But now the compact beauty of the tiny face had transfixed Cecilia completely.
I will remember this,
she thought to herself.
I will make sure this image stays with me.
She had a sudden strong urge to undress the baby and look at her little limbs one last time, but she didn't dare.

On the farm she'd watched newborn lambs stumbling to stand, their mothers licking them all over. She would have liked to do the same, smell her, kiss her, lick her feet and the tiny limbs. Very gingerly she unwrapped some of the swaddling and then chickened out. It would be terrible to upset the poor little thing. But she did take off the booties and study the tiny feet. Then she lifted the sleeping child up to her face and wished she could cry.

The door opened and the older nurse came back. She smiled and walked over to where Cecilia was looking out the window, still holding the child close to her face.

‘So how are we doing?' she said softly.

‘Are they here?'

‘Yes,' the nurse said, ‘but no hurry. They're having a coffee.'

Something about the older woman's kind manner caught Cecilia unawares. Her throat suddenly ached with a million unshed tears.

‘So I guess we should … I should …' Her voice petered out and she looked around the room in bewilderment. Where was she again? What exactly was happening?
Is this really me?

‘I guess I … I should just …'

‘No
should
about any of this,' the nurse said firmly. ‘You take all the time you need.'

‘No no.' Cecilia held the baby out for the nurse to take. Then to her complete shock a terrible sob broke from her. It was followed by another and then another. The nurse stood there a few moments without taking the baby, then moved to put an arm around Cecilia's shoulders. ‘You hold her a bit longer, love. There is no hurry.' The firm grip of the woman's hand on her shoulder felt like a lifeline. Tears splashed the front of the new pink-striped shirt she'd bought the week before.

‘Oh, I'm sorry!' she gasped. ‘I didn't expect that I would be like this … Are there any tissues?'

The nurse pulled a wad from her pockets without letting go of Cecilia's shoulders. ‘Don't be sorry.'

‘But … I don't understand it … I really don't. I didn't expect to … feel like this.'

The nurse smiled and gently took the baby.

Still gasping, Cecilia went right up to the window and put her hands on the sill. She was getting a headache, but in a way it was a relief to feel the grief rolling through her. It was inside and it wanted to get out.

Maybe ten minutes went by. When Cecilia turned around, the nurse was sitting in the chair holding the baby in the crook of her arm.

‘I'm okay now.'

‘You sure?'

‘Yes.'

The nurse stood up and smiled.‘There is just one thing, Cecilia.'

‘Yes?'
Please just go. Take the child and go.

‘They wanted to be very sure—'

‘I'm absolutely sure,' Cecilia cut in. ‘Please let them know that there is no question that I want anything else. Please, Helen, make that clear.'
Damn it. I have signed all the papers. Just go. Take the baby
and go.

‘Are you still happy for them to name the child?'

‘Well, of course … She belongs to them now.'

‘They were very clear that you must feel free to name her.'

‘Oh, I see.' Cecilia was a little dumbfounded.

‘Would you like a little more time with it?'

‘No no … well … So they said that?'

‘Definitely.'The nurse smiled. ‘They were adamant.'

‘Well then.' Cecilia had been thinking about her convent days a lot in the last months of pregnancy. She'd thought about herself as that girl of eighteen, and also Breda, who'd become Sister Perpetua on the day Cecilia had become Sister Annunciata.

‘Well, if they don't mind, I have … I
would
like to name her.'

‘I think they'd be pleased.'

‘Really?'