Imagine That!

IT hadn’t been easy for Nelson and me to become parents. After we’d married, we’d assumed a baby would soon follow. When nothing happened, we went for tests and were told our chances of conceiving naturally were slim.

Not to be put off, we thought science would offer us an alternative route, but that didn’t work, either.

It was the hardest thing either of us had ever had to face, but at least it never pushed us apart – we drew closer together, if anything.

On a mini-break by the seaside, we took a long walk through the dunes to talk things through.

“I don’t want to give up on having a family,” I told Nelson.

“There’s a part of me that I just know will never be content without children.”

“Then the only thing left is to consider adoption,” Nelson replied.

“But Zoe, if we decide to go there, we can’t think of it as a last resort – we have to regard it as a positive choice and not second best.”

“Agreed. Any child we take into our home we must also take into our hearts, completely.”

“You know we might not be able to have a baby or toddler – it could well be someone a little older.”

“Let’s speak to the authorities as soon as we go home – find out where we stand, get the ball rolling if possible.”

“You’re sure about this?” “I am. Time to put our disappointments behind us and start all over again, with a new plan.”

“Agreed.”

****

Chelsey was six years old and had lived with one foster family when she was two, and then a different family from the age of four.

She didn’t remember her biological mother, had never met her biological father, and there was no chance she would be returning to either of them.

Angela, our social worker, drove us all to the nearby forest park for our first encounter.

When we got out of the car, Chelsey immediately took Nelson’s hand.

I smiled and, slinging my cool-bag over my shoulder, went to hold his other hand, but Chelsey reached across and pushed me away.

Were we in trouble right from the start?

“You have to hold Rosie’s hand,” she told me firmly. “She’s afraid there are bears in the woods.” “Rosie?”

“Rosie is Chelsey’s friend,” Angela explained, then mouthed to me: “Her imaginary friend.”

Ah. I nodded.

Chelsey, who’d been quiet in the car, now proved quite a chatterbox.

She wanted to know the names of the trees, and picked up a selection of sticks, fallen leaves and pine cones.

When we came to a fork in the woodland way, she leaped forward dramatically.

“This way to adventure and glory!” she cried, pointing her stick at the higher path.

“That way to dread and doom,” she growled, pointing it at the lower path.

“Chelsey watches a lot of TV,” Angela said. “Perhaps too much – eh, Chelsey?”

We continued walking until Chelsey announced that Rosie was tired.

“There’s a picnic bench over there,” I pointed out. “Shall we sit for a bit?”

“Rosie’s hungry,” Chelsey said when we sat down. “Do you have any snacks?” Of course I did.

“I have sandwiches – cheese or chicken – mini pork pies, home-made cheese scones and apples and grapes. Oh, and juice or water.”

“Sounds like a feast!” Angela said.

“Did you say chicken sandwiches?” Chelsey enquired, looking hopeful. “Yes, I did.”

“OK. I’ll have that.

We had only planned on taking one little girl into our home . . .

And so will Rosie.” I unpacked the food and we all munched for a moment in silence.

“So, then, tell me about Rosie,” I said.

“Tell you what?”

“Well – what does she like?”

“She likes me. I’m her favourite person. I look after her when she’s frightened, and she looks after me.”

“I bet you have lots of other friends at school, too – don’t you, Chelsey?” Angela suggested.

“Not really. If they don’t want to let Rosie play, too, then I don’t want to play with them.”

I wished I hadn’t raised the topic of Rosie, and attempted to change the subject.

“What do you like doing at school, Chelsey?”

“Writing letters.” She was tucking into another sandwich. “And writing my name.”

“It’s a lovely name,” Nelson said.

“Which one? Chelsey or Smith?”

“I was thinking Chelsey, but Smith’s a fine name, too.”

“Some people have a middle name – do you?” Chelsey asked him.

“I have one, but I don’t much like it.”

“Tell me what it is.”

“You promise not to tease me?”

“I won’t tease you.”

“It’s Leopold.”

“Leopold!” Chelsey gave a throaty giggle.

“You said you wouldn’t tease.” Nelson pretended to look upset.

“I’m not teasing – I’m laughing. Leopold!”

****

We went for several more visits, chaperoned by Angela, usually to outdoor venues with children’s play-parks.

Then Angela said we could take Chelsey out on our own.

A travelling fun-fair was visiting the next town, so we decided to go there.

The three of us rode the carousel, I took Chelsey on the dodgems and we wedged her between us on the cyclone.

There was no mention of Rosie until we were sitting in the carriage at the ghost train, about to set off.

“Rosie’s frightened!” Chelsey suddenly announced.

Nelson and I looked at each other.

“Does she want to get off?” I asked.

“No,” Chelsey said with a little squeak. “But hold her hand.”

We each took one of Chelsey’s hands and this seemed to do the trick.

“Can we do it again?” she asked, as soon as we emerged.

****

Nelson and I had a lot of fun getting Chelsey’s room ready at our place.

We asked her what her favourite colour was, and she said purple, so it was purple wallpaper and curtains, and a purple duvet cover and throw on her bed.

Nelson suggested we add purple carpet over the wooden floor, as he imagined she’d do quite a bit of thumping about up there when we were relaxing in the room below.

When Chelsey saw it, she went very quiet. Didn’t she like it?

“Is it really mine?” she asked eventually. “Is that my bed?”

“Yes, of course,” I replied. She sat on it and gave a little bounce.

“Who owns all those books?” she enquired, looking at the bookcase.

“They’re yours. This is all yours,” Nelson assured her.

She ran over and gave each of us a hug.

“But where’s the TV?” she asked, looking around.

Nelson and I exchanged a look.

“We didn’t think it was a great idea to have a TV in your bedroom, Chelsey,” I explained.

“It’s enough to have the one set downstairs.”

“But I’m not allowed to watch the downstairs one,” Chelsey replied, her eyes welling with tears. “I’ll miss my programmes!”

“New house, new rules – well, some, anyway,” Nelson said quickly.

“The television in the lounge is for all the family. I can watch my nature documentaries, Zoe can see ‘Coronation Street’ and you’ll get your turn, too.”

Chelsey looked at me for confirmation.

“Nelson’s right – we don’t want you hiding away in your room on your own for hours watching telly.

“At least if you’re downstairs we can still see you and talk to you.”

Chelsey seemed pleased, although she murmured that she wasn’t on her own – she had Rosie.

It was in those first few days that she lived with us, too, that we decided to have a little chat with Chelsey about what she was to call us.

“From now on, we’re your mum and dad,” I said. “So why not call us that – or Mummy and Daddy, if you’d prefer.”

“I’ll call you Mummy,” she said, appearing to choose her words carefully.

But then she threw her head back with her familiar throaty giggle.

“But I’m calling him Leopold!”

She did, too, for about three hours, until it was time for bed.

“Can you read me a story in bed, Daddy? You’re really good at doing all the voices,” she said.

I smiled. It was one of Nelson’s many talents.

Tucking Chelsey in and saying goodnight before the story started, I was careful not to tread on the pillow and blanket she’d left on the floor as a makeshift bed for Rosie.

****

Chelsey appeared happy about the adoption, and I hoped that as her sense of security grew, her need for Rosie would fade away.

Despite our best efforts to make Chelsey feel loved and safe, however, Rosie was as stubbornly present as ever.

I knew Chelsey had been through a lot in her young life, but I wasn’t convinced that having an imaginary friend at her age was entirely desirable.

I rang Angela for advice, but she just said to keep on doing what we were doing and everything would probably resolve itself when the adoption was complete.

****

It was the day of the adoption.

We’d arranged for Chelsey to have the day off school so we could make it a special celebration.

New outfits all round and, after the formalities, lunch at the Towers Hotel.

On our way, Chelsey suddenly asked us to make a detour via her old nursery.

“Why do you want to do that, Chelsey?” Nelson asked gently.

“It’s not my idea – it’s Rosie’s,” she replied. I sighed.

Would Rosie’s reign ever end?

“She’s decided to go and stay there,” Chelsey continued.

“She says now I have you two, I don’t need her any more.

“She’s going to play with the little children who are frightened at nursery. She’ll be good at that.”

Nelson looked at me. I took a deep breath.

“She will,” I agreed. We weren’t quite finished with Rosie yet, however.

Chelsey would later ask us whether, along with changing her name from Smith to our surname of Wedlock, she could also adopt a middle name: Rosie.

We said that, if she really wanted to, then of course she could.

“I’m swinging higher than you, Nelson Leopold Wedlock!” Chelsey was prone to shriek, when we took her to the park to play.

“Oh, no, you’re not, Chelsey Rosie Wedlock!” Nelson shouted back.

I don’t get the mischievous side of Chelsey’s tongue like he does.

To Chelsey, I am only “Mummy”. Which is all I’ve ever wanted.

The End.