I can’t cope. My life is complicated enough.
I have no room for a child.
Please take care of him. Don’t try to find me.
Amber
I look from the note to the tiny child in the pram.
Dog’s son. Or suspected son, as the case may be.
But, nonetheless, an innocent child with no parents to care for him sits here on my front path.
“Dad?” Hannah’s voice interrupts the panic. “Whose baby is it? Where’s his mum?”
Her eyes are like saucers, completely confused by the strange turn of events.
“She’s gone.” My voice is low, shocked. “She says he’s Dog’s son.”
What do you do when a baby is left on your doorstep? It’s happened in movies or even reported in the local paper, but you never imagine it could happen to you.
“What?” Hannah screeches, mouth dropping open, her inner drama queen striding on stage.
“Shhh, Hannah,” I hush her. “I don’t know. I’ll need to work out the dates. But possibly, he could be. Let’s get him inside, then we can call the authorities and see what happens next.”
Underneath the pram is a canvas bag filled with baby milk, nappies, and an envelope. Pulling the paperwork from the bag, I scan the contents. It’s only a single sheet of paper, meant to look professional but clearly copied off the internet.Termination of Parental Responsibilitiesis the heading of the document, and it’s dated yesterday. She only uses her first name, Amber, and doesn’t give any further details.
Clearly, she’s not wanting to be found.
I look from the little boy to my daughter and back to the letter.
What do we do now?
***
“So, you believe your friend is the father, sir?” the social worker, Beth, asks for what feels like the hundredth time.
“Yes. The timing works. He did have a brief romance with a woman called Amber in Ibiza. Accidents happen. They did swap numbers, but neither of them had any intention of carrying on the relationship,” I explain.
“Do you remember anything else she told you about herself? Her surname? Where she lived or worked?”
Cringing, embarrassed by his promiscuousness, I say, “I’m sorry. It was casual. He never expected to hear from her again. I’ll try to remember anything useful.”
Beth nods, but she’s unimpressed. Abandoned baby. Missing mother. Late father. It can’t be an easy way to start her working week.
“What happens now?” I ask her.
“Well, he’ll be taken to a foster family for the time being. We’ll arrange a paternity test to confirm David is the biological father. Then we’ll need to discuss guardianship as he‘s deceased.”
My chest tightens. Her professionalism makes my friend’s death cut deeper, like he’s no more than a fact on her form. One monotone word following the next.
“Are you aware of any family?”
I shake my head. “All I know is he grew up in care and joined the army. The rest, he rarely spoke of.”
“I see,” she mumbles, pen scribbling on her notebook. “Well, it will be foster, then hopefully adoption.”
Everything spins fast and hard. My mouth opens before my brain catches up. Dog’s gone. His son is here. If this baby has no safety net…