father who is famous – otherwise his mother would probably have booked into a private clinic to have her baby rather than an NHS hospital. If Cheryl does know the true identity of the father she won’t be sharing it with us, and we don’t need to know – it doesn’t affect your care of Harrison. Both parents are healthy, as is Harrison: that’s all we need to know.’
I nodded but my imagination was working overtime. A famous father – who could it be? A footballer? A film star or pop idol? A Member of Parliament? The Prime Minister? An archbishop? Royalty? There was no limit to my imagination and scenes from the historical novels I’d read flashed through my mind. I could be looking after a baby whose existence could alter the course of history!
‘So I’m fostering a little superstar?’ I said with a smile.
‘Pretend you don’t know that,’ Jill said. ‘If the press got wind of it they’d investigate until they found out.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ I said. ‘As far as everyone is concerned he’s just Harrison Smith, the baby I’m fostering.’ I paused thoughtfully, remembering Rihanna’s letter. I looked at Jill. I was worried. ‘I think Harrison’s mother could have been put under pressure to give up her baby,’ I said. ‘She clearly wanted to keep him. She says in her letter she cried continuously and prayed for a solution that would allow her to keep him.’
‘Yes,’ Jill said. ‘It sounds that way, but that’s for Cheryl and the social services to look into. Show Cheryl that letter when she visits tomorrow, although I’m sure she’s aware of how Mum feels.’
I nodded. ‘I wonder if there is any way Rihanna could keep Harrison, with support?’
‘No,’ Jill said emphatically. ‘Cheryl is very clear about that. It’s out of the question. She’s not allowed to.’
‘Not allowed to?’
‘They are Cheryl’s words, not mine. You know as much as I do now. As I say, it’s possible Cheryl may tell you more tomorrow, but I doubt it. If she does, tell me.’
I nodded. Harrison had fallen asleep in Jill’s arms and she seemed content to leave him there while we talked. One of his little fists was resting on his chin as it did sometimes, giving him the appearance of being deep in thought, and I thought if he knew the mystery surrounding his birth he’d have a lot to think about.
We both finished our coffee and the biscuits and Jill asked to see my log notes. I lifted Harrison out of her arms and laid him, still asleep, in his pram in the hall. Returning to the sitting room, I gave Jill my folder and she read and signed the daily log. She asked if I had everything I needed to look after Harrison and I said I did; then, once we’d finished, she stood to leave. We went down the hall, past the pram where Harrison was still sleeping peacefully, and we both looked in.
‘You know, Jill,’ I said, ‘despite all the precautions that are being taken to protect Harrison’s true identity, it could still slip out. These things do have a habit of becoming known.’
Jill turned from the pram and looked at me, her expression deathly serious. ‘It can’t,’ she said bluntly. ‘Cheryl said that if it ever became known that Rihanna had had this baby and who the father was, she’d have to go into hiding. Her life would be in danger. I know it sounds incredible but we don’t know all the details. Cheryl is adamant that Rihanna’s worries are real and have to be acted on.’
Abandoned
A fter Jill’s visit and her parting comments that Rihanna’s life could be in danger if Harrison’s existence became known, I had the unsettling feeling that I was becoming involved in something I would rather not have been. It seemed incredible to me that a mother could be in danger from simply having a baby. If it was all true, and Rihanna hadn’t fabricated the story surrounding Harrison’s paternity (for whatever reason), then I felt the sooner Harrison was adopted and settled into his new
I nodded but my imagination was working overtime. A famous father – who could it be? A footballer? A film star or pop idol? A Member of Parliament? The Prime Minister? An archbishop? Royalty? There was no limit to my imagination and scenes from the historical novels I’d read flashed through my mind. I could be looking after a baby whose existence could alter the course of history!
‘So I’m fostering a little superstar?’ I said with a smile.
‘Pretend you don’t know that,’ Jill said. ‘If the press got wind of it they’d investigate until they found out.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ I said. ‘As far as everyone is concerned he’s just Harrison Smith, the baby I’m fostering.’ I paused thoughtfully, remembering Rihanna’s letter. I looked at Jill. I was worried. ‘I think Harrison’s mother could have been put under pressure to give up her baby,’ I said. ‘She clearly wanted to keep him. She says in her letter she cried continuously and prayed for a solution that would allow her to keep him.’
‘Yes,’ Jill said. ‘It sounds that way, but that’s for Cheryl and the social services to look into. Show Cheryl that letter when she visits tomorrow, although I’m sure she’s aware of how Mum feels.’
I nodded. ‘I wonder if there is any way Rihanna could keep Harrison, with support?’
‘No,’ Jill said emphatically. ‘Cheryl is very clear about that. It’s out of the question. She’s not allowed to.’
‘Not allowed to?’
‘They are Cheryl’s words, not mine. You know as much as I do now. As I say, it’s possible Cheryl may tell you more tomorrow, but I doubt it. If she does, tell me.’
I nodded. Harrison had fallen asleep in Jill’s arms and she seemed content to leave him there while we talked. One of his little fists was resting on his chin as it did sometimes, giving him the appearance of being deep in thought, and I thought if he knew the mystery surrounding his birth he’d have a lot to think about.
We both finished our coffee and the biscuits and Jill asked to see my log notes. I lifted Harrison out of her arms and laid him, still asleep, in his pram in the hall. Returning to the sitting room, I gave Jill my folder and she read and signed the daily log. She asked if I had everything I needed to look after Harrison and I said I did; then, once we’d finished, she stood to leave. We went down the hall, past the pram where Harrison was still sleeping peacefully, and we both looked in.
‘You know, Jill,’ I said, ‘despite all the precautions that are being taken to protect Harrison’s true identity, it could still slip out. These things do have a habit of becoming known.’
Jill turned from the pram and looked at me, her expression deathly serious. ‘It can’t,’ she said bluntly. ‘Cheryl said that if it ever became known that Rihanna had had this baby and who the father was, she’d have to go into hiding. Her life would be in danger. I know it sounds incredible but we don’t know all the details. Cheryl is adamant that Rihanna’s worries are real and have to be acted on.’
Abandoned
A fter Jill’s visit and her parting comments that Rihanna’s life could be in danger if Harrison’s existence became known, I had the unsettling feeling that I was becoming involved in something I would rather not have been. It seemed incredible to me that a mother could be in danger from simply having a baby. If it was all true, and Rihanna hadn’t fabricated the story surrounding Harrison’s paternity (for whatever reason), then I felt the sooner Harrison was adopted and settled into his new
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