Ilse was fine the next morning. She was a bit distant at first but gradually began to warm towards me, thank goodness. I was terrified all night that she wouldn't forgive me. The next day, I took her to Central park, to the new zoo that opened there and she enjoyed it, much to my relief.
I finally finished my piece on children, basing it on their trust and how easily it can be destroyed. It received generally good reviews but Mr Goldman still said that there was something lacking.
"As you look at Wendy, you may see her hair becoming white, and her figure little again, for all this happened long ago. Jane is now a common grown-up, with a daughter called Margaret; and every spring cleaning time, except when he forgets, Peter comes for Margaret and takes her to the Neverland, where she tells him stories about himself, to which he listens eagerly. When Margaret grows up she will have a daughter, who is to be Peter's mother in turn; and thus it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless. The End."
I turn to Ilse, who is gazing at an illustration in the Peter Pan book. "Did you like that?" I ask, closing the book and putting it on the table in front of the sofa. She smiles and nods and I kiss her on the head.
"Papa?" She says quietly.
"Yes?" I look down at her huge brown eyes.
"Kiss?" She tilts her head up and I smile and give her a peck on her cheek. "Story?" She says as I pull away.
I laugh at this. "Ilse, you've just had a story."
"Pincess piyat story!" She jumps up onto her knees.
"Alright, but only quickly." I lean back with her and start. "There was once a princess, and-"
I am interrupted by the sharp ringing of the bell. I roll my eyes at Ilse and stand up to walk over and open it. In the doorway, stomping snow off his feet is a man, thin and tall, perhaps fifty years old, waring glasses and holding a briefcase.
"Mr Gabor?" He asks and I nod. "Andrew Smeathe, solicitor. May I come in?"
I nod suspiciously and hold the door open and let him in. He glances round until he sees Ilse then adjusts his grip on his briefcase and turns to me.
"I would like to have a word with you, Mr Gabor." He says. "Do you have anywhere that we can sit down?"
"Of course." I lead him to the living room, picking up Ilse as I go and sitting her on my lap. He moves stiffly, sitting with me on the sofa.
"Mr Gabor, I have had some reports that have recently come to light now." He says, pushing up his glasses. "In the state of New York, we take every report extremely seriously and will not turn a blind eye to this one. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir." I say, puzzled. Reports? What reports?
He shifts round in his seat to get to his briefcase and starts to look through it. "This" he pulls out a sheet of paper "was filed a day ago by a Mrs Agatha Bennet. Is this person familiar to you?"
"Yes sir, she's my neighbor." I say, slightly dumbfounded. Why would Mrs Bennet be reporting me?
"Have a look at it." He shoves it under my nose and I pick it up and read.
To whomever it may concern,
This letter is to report an issue raised by GABOR Melchior in Manhattan, New York. It has come to my attention that he is an unfit parent to his daughter, BERGMAN-GABOR Ilse Wendy. When Ilse's mother, BERGMAN Wendla died, Melchior lost grip of things. Among his shames as a parent, he has caused great distress to the child, both by negligence and abuse. I have heard her crying some nights from my home. He abandons her with me at least once a week and she always eats heartily when she's in my care, an obvious clue to underfeeding. I believe that significant action must be taken, for the sake of the child.
I care greatly for this child, too greatly to stand idly by and watch him damage her. Perhaps, if he is found by authorities to be an unfit parent, she could be given into me and my husband's care.
Thank you and have a good day,
Agatha Bennet
When I finish reading it, I'm shaking. They think I'm a bad parent to Ilse. They think I could damage her. Mrs Bennet, my friend, has told the police that I cannot be trusted. But it's not true! I'm not a bad parent, I know it. I just knew that look Mrs Bennet gave me when she left Ilse behind meant something. She wants to take Ilse away from me. She wants to take my little girl away.
"Now, a report like this is extremely serious." Mr Smeathe continues. "The penalty for an accusation that turns out to be false can add up to thousands of dollars so it's extremely likely that Mrs Bennet is telling some element of the truth."
I look up at him with pleading eyes. "No, Sir, you have to understand. I am not an unfit parent!"
"Oh, I don't resent that." He holds up a hand. "I have just seen how you act around her and how comfortable she is around you, I don't believe you are harming her. But we cannot do nothing about this case. For instance, Mrs Bennet said she heard crying."
"Ilse's… how do I put this… she's been going through things emotionally. Her mother has just left us and she somehow remembers her and it's been distressing her, causing her to cry more!" I say helplessly. I sound like I'm lying.
"Perhaps, but the law is the law." He takes the paper back and tucks it into his briefcase. "And the law means that I will have to take Ilse into custody for a month until your trial."
My blood turns cold. He doesn't mean… no. No.
"Take Ilse… away?" My grip on her suddenly grows a bit tighter. "Sir, you can't possibly mean-"
"You will not be able to see her until your hearing." He folds his hands. "I'm sorry, Mr Gabor, but it is necessary."
"No, please sir, no." I hear my voice getting higher. "Please, let her stay with me."
"Unfortunately I have no authorization to." She says, his voice getting strained. "If the hearing comes out in your favor, you may have her back into your custody. If not, she will be taken into care and another family will adopt her."
"And I'll never see her again?" My voice comes out in a whisper.
"Not unless the family permits it, no." He tries to smile sympathetically at me but it looks like a smirk of triumph. I look down at Ilse and he stands up. "I will give you a moment for you to say your goodbyes." He walks down the corridor before stepping into the cold night air.
I pull Ilse away from me to look at her in the eye.
"Ilse, you're such a big girl." I say, taking in all of her features. She looks so much like Wendla, so much my heart breaks. "You need to be a big girl now. You're going to go away on a little… holiday." I take a deep breath, trying to control myself. "You're going on a holiday without your Papa. But you will come back and I will be waiting for you to come back. But… Ilse, I love you so much." I mentally kick myself as I feel tears pricking my eyes. "I have watched you grow from a little baby into such a big girl, and you've grown so beautifully. I love you and I will always love you. Never forget that, never. Never."
I hold her close to my chest, thinking solely that this might be the last time I ever do it. I look down at her and take in everything, her curls, her brown eyes, Wendla's eyes. The tears are running steadily down my face now but I don't bother to wipe them away.
"Papa?" I hear her tiny voice and she pulls away, reaching a hand up to wipe my cheek with her little hand. "Don cry." She whispers. "Don cry."
I reach down and give her a kiss on the cheek and one last hug, savoring everything about her until I hear the door open again and Mr Smeathe comes in.
I pull away and look at him. He's really going to do it. He's going to take away Ilse. My little Ilse.
He reaches down and picks Ilse up, holding her roughly in his arms, something she silently protests to. "I'll write when your hearing is, Mr Gabor. Good evening." He turns, Ilse looking over his shoulder at me with wide eyes. I stand up and follow them.
"Ilse, I love you so much, just know that Papa loves you and be a strong girl!" I cry after them. Ilse watches me before kissing her hand and waving at me. I do the same.
There's a carriage waiting outside and Mr Smeathe nears it. Suddenly the full impact on what's about to happen hits me and I run after them as they get into the carriage.
"No, Mr Smeathe, you can't do this, you can't do this to Ilse!" I shout, crying like I never have before. "Please sir, please let me keep her, I'll prove to you that I am a good father!" The horses start. "Please! Don't go!" I scream down the road as the horses go into a trot, then a canter. I sprint after them, ignoring the stares and remarks that I get from the passers by. "COME BACK! BRING HER BACK! PLEASE! No…" I stop, feeling hopeless as I watch the carriage disappear into the darkness of the winter night, the one last thing I had in this world in it.
A/N Not even going to lie, I am lying on my bed on my laptop after just finishing this chapter with tears running down my eyes.
This is not the end though, I promise! Please review!
