We stood at the window watching the rain pour down. It splashed onto the sodden grass, dribbled down the window panes and washed away my plans for the afternoon. I suppressed a sigh.
"What are we going to do today, Mummy?" I turned around to see Luke standing in the doorway.
"We're not sure." Simon answered for me.
"Did you have a good time at Granny's?" I asked, then listened as he launched into a story of his sleepover at her house. I smiled, knowing my mother-in-law had loved it as much as he had. "What do you want to do?" I watched as his feet pattered across the lino. Pulling him into a tight hug, I planted a kiss on his forehead as I felt Simon's arm around my back. Then I remembered that we were no longer a family of three and went to get Emma.
A few minutes later, Emma and Luke were seated at the kitchen table, blissfully dipping paintbrushes into pots and trailing paint across sheets of paper. A look of concentration was plastered onto each small face. As I watched Emma, my thoughts when back to the time Amanda first introduced us to her.
"I think I've found somebody," she had told Simon and me. "A little girl, seven years old, is in foster care at the moment. She's had a difficult past but I believe that you are a very suitable family for her."
"What's her name?" I had questioned.
"Emma."
Names didn't mean everything, but they had always been important to me. When Luke was a baby, it took me about a week to decide whether to name him "Ethan", "Thomas" or "Luke". Somehow, the latter just seemed to fit with my name and Simon's. As soon as Amanda spoke the name of our potential adoptive daughter, I knew she was the one.
I remember the excitement we had both felt that night as we read through the information Amanda had given us. Again, I realized that she was the right child for us. Now she was actually in our lives, it felt as if my family was complete.
I needed nothing more.
"Are we going on holiday soon?" My thoughts were brought back to the present as I realized my son was speaking to me.
I shook my head. There would be no holiday that year, because we didn't wish to move Emma around at all as she was settling in. For the moment, our lives were on hold for hers. As Amanda had told us so many times, we needed to bring about as little change as possible in her first couple of months living with us. We did not wish to upset her any more than necessary; however, looking at the child sat in front of me, painting with delicate brush strokes, I did not think she looked unsettled at all.
"I'm finished." Emma set her paintbrush down on the table and then looked up at me.
"Can I have a look?" I asked warily. She nodded, holding up her painting for me to see. On the paper, there were two little, black stick-people holding hands with curly smiles scribbled onto their faces. There was no colour added. "Who are the people?"
"They are Mummy and Daddy," she explained. "My old Mummy and Daddy. Do you like it?"
"Yes. They look very happy." Amanda had warned me that Emma may have brought up her parents at some point. Painting them was not the way I had foreseen.
"Do you like my painting?" Luke thrust his piece of paper in front of my face, not wanting to be left out. I took it from his hands and studied it.
"Yes, it's lovely." I smoothed down a folded edge of the paper. "I like all the colours on it."
I stood there deep in thought for a moment, then said "Let's go show them to Simon - I'm sure he'd love to see what you've both created." Luke was confused, before realizing that "daddy" had a second name - one which I would now be calling him by a lot more now Emma was with us.
A few minutes later, I was ushering both children into the living room where Simon was hidden behind a newspaper. He looked up as a child sat on either side of him on the settee.
"We'll have to put this on the fridge," he said, as he looked at Luke's art work. Then, he turned to Emma to see her painting. "Those are two very happy people. What are they smiling so much about?"
With such a serious look for a child of her age, Emma replied "They're my parents and they're happy because I've gone."
* * *
That night was the first of many that I had to put two children to bed rather than one. I laid out two pairs of pyjamas on the radiator and prepared two mugs of hot chocolate, then perched on the edge of Luke's bed, with two little faces listening to me read a story, both sipping contentedly at hot, frothy liquid. When the book was finished, bedtime took twice as long as usual.
"Go through to your room, love," I instructed Emma, knowing that Luke would want to be seen to first. "I'll be through in a minute."
As soon as she had gone, Luke grabbed my arm. Turning to see what was the matter, I noticed a look on his face that I had never seen before. As he shuffled closer to me along the duvet, I put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.
"What's the matter? Are you tired?" I ruffled his hair.
He shook his head and then mumbled "I don't want her to live with us."
I let out a sigh. "I think you'll like her after a while. Sometimes we don't like people very much when we first meet them, but over time you can begin to get used to them and maybe even become friends."
"It's not that," he said. "I do like her a bit."
"Well, if you already like her a bit-"
"You wouldn't understand, Mummy," he interrupted, laying his head back on a pillow.
"What is it then?" I brought the covers out from beneath his body, and tucked them in around his shoulders.
"I don't think I can explain it."
"Why don't you have a sleep and then try tell me in the morning?" I suggested.
"Okay."
I stood up from his bed, kissed him goodnight and then turned out his light before going to see Emma. As I walked along the hallway, I heard sounds coming from her room. She was talking to herself, so I knocked on the door before entering.
"Emma?" I called out. There was no reply, so I pushed open the door and walked in. She looked up immediately as I entered, buried beneath her duvet. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," she nodded.
"I didn't mean to disturb you. I just wanted to say goodnight," I explained.
"I wasn't talking to myself," she said.
"I wouldn't mind it if you were." I went to sit on her bed. "Would you like me to kiss you goodnight?"
"Yes."
I reached over, brushing a stray lock of pale blonde hair of her forehead, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She smiled.
"I wasn't talking to myself," she repeated. "I was talking to Tod."
"Who is Tod?" I glanced around her room, as if expecting to see somebody there with us. Obviously there was nobody.
"I don't think you would get it." Emma propped herself up against the headboard of her bed. "He's not like anybody I know."
"Is he your imaginary friend?" I asked as I realized this was what she must have meant.
"No, but nobody can see him apart from me."
It was a stupid thing for me to ask. Of course a child would think their imaginary friend could be real.
"Well, goodnight then, Emma," I backed away from her side to turn the light off. "And goodnight Tod."
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