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‘Sister Rosemary explained the circumstances to me at the time the child was brought here. It doesn’t matter if this woman is the child’s mother.’
‘The child is my daughter. Her name is Jennifer. Jennifer Dorset. Please bring her to me now, or do I need to call the police to help me get my daughter back?’
A look of distaste flickered over the nun’s face before she schooled her expression into blandness again. ‘Call who you like. It won’t change matters. Your daughter is no longer here.’
‘Then tell us where you’ve sent her, and we’ll go and get her ourselves.’
‘She has been placed with a good Christian family, a married couple who have not been blessed with children but who will raise her as their own. They were prepared to overlook the unfortunate circumstance of her birth.’
‘Are you telling me you’ve adopted my daughter away?’ A shroud of darkness descended. Blindly, she reached for Gerry’s arm and sucked in a breath as though it were her last.
Breathe, Meg. Fight for her.
‘Without my knowledge or permission? Against my wishes?’
‘We have placed the child in a good Christian home where she will learn proper values and her right place in the world. Unfit mothers have no right to children when there are proper parents desperate to give them a good home.’
‘Tell me where she is, please? Tell me who has my daughter and I’ll—’
‘You’ll what? Rip the child away from two loving parents? I think not.’
‘They’ve barely had time to get to know her. I’m her mother. I have a home for her. I love her. Please?’
‘You will not see the child again. The law protects her, and her adoptive family. As it should. Good day.’ The nun disappeared down the hallway.
Meg sank to the ground, Gerry’s arm around her shoulders. There was a pounding in her ears. She saw nothing, felt nothing but a huge, gaping hole where her daughter should be. ‘They’ve stolen my Jennifer. What can I do, Gerry? How can I get her back?’
