Page 170 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
‘So,’ Clara said. ‘The mystery of the business card.’ She opened a drawer in her old wooden desk and picked out a small scrap of paper. ‘Here you go, Mr Tanit.’
‘Thank you.’ I took the card from Clara and examined it. ‘Yes, it’s definitely one of mine,’ I confirmed. ‘But as I said to Lashay, I haven’t used these for decades, since I was managing the bookshop.’
‘And yet it came to be that the card arrived on my doorstep along with a little bundle of joy. Now, I wonder, how on earth that could have happened?’
‘You and me both, Clara. Sorry. Miss Hale. Mother Hale.’
Clara wrinkled her nose, then, just as Lashay had done moments before, burst out laughing and smacked her knees. ‘Clara’s just fine. I only adopted the “Mother” because... well...’ She shrugged and gestured around her.
‘Of course. Lashay was able to tell me a little bit about what you’ve done. It’s incredible.’
‘Incredible is one word for it. I shouldn’t have had to live the life I have. Children are gifts from the Lord above. How anyone could bring themselves to part from their own, I do not know, Mr Tanit.’
‘It is a curious question. But I suppose that there are certain circumstances where the children are better cared for by others.’
Clara tapped the ends of her fingers together. ‘How interesting.’
‘What is?’ I asked.
‘I’ve been looking after the children of others for forty years now, and I’ve never heard anyone raise that point. Usually they agree with me, and say howawfulit is.’ I feltClara’s scrutinising gaze, and tried not to let my nerves get the better of me. ‘So, Mr Tanit,youclearly have a different experience to most. What is that?’
I was staggered by Clara’s wily intelligence. ‘You’re incredibly perceptive.’ I laughed. ‘I actually have five adopted daughters.’
Clara’s eyes widened. ‘Lord Jesus, you do not?!’ I nodded in affirmation. ‘Well, well, well,’ she laughed. ‘You’re another one of me.’
I gave her a quizzical look. ‘How do you mean?’
She shrugged. ‘Oh, you know. Big-hearted. Probably a little foolish, too. You have to be to do what we do.’
‘Honestly, Clara, I don’t think we compare. I have only five daughters, and am able to give them a very comfortable life. Just how many children have passed through your doors?’
She inhaled deeply. ‘Hundreds. I fostered damn near fifty in my own home before I went official and got a childcare facility licence in 1970. But one, or one thousand, it doesn’t matter. The act of giving love to an unloved child is one of the noblest things a human can do.’
Her face was so very... warm. Although her presence was intimidating, she radiated kindness. ‘I used to think that, Clara. But the love I have received from my daughters has been tenfold.’
Clara laughed again. ‘That’s the secret, isn’t it?’ She leant back in her leather office chair. ‘You know, my husband died when I was only twenty-seven years old. I was heartbroken, and so were the three children we had together. I moped around for a while, and made the decision that no matter what, I’d just... keep... breathing.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘I ended up working as a janitor to get us through the Great Depression. It was an awful job. But I loved the smiling faces of the kids. They gave me hope. So, I turned my home intoa day care. And suddenly, one day, I found that I wasn’t just breathing, I waslivingagain.’
Clara’s tale was familiar to me. ‘Children can do that for you.’
‘They sure can, Mr Tanit.’ Clara stood up from her chair, and turned to look out of the window. ‘Soon after I opened the day care, I started heading out into the streets to help homeless kids. That’s when I began to foster. I’d take seven or eight at a time.’ She put her head in her hands. ‘And it was just little old me. Imagine that!’
‘How did you manage?’
‘Simple! I loved each one of those children as my own. I became a mother to those who did not have one.’
What a remarkable human being. ‘Lashay mentioned that you... specialise in the care of those children whose parents were addicted to drugs.’
Clara turned back to face me, looking a little sad. ‘That’s right. One day, about a decade ago now, Lorraine – that’s my first daughter – brought a mother and child into my home who were dependent on heroin.’ She perched on the edge of her desk. ‘They needed a special kind of care, you see. That’s when I got the official licence and I bought this bigger building. It’s got five storeys, and we need each and every one of them, with this new thing that’s going around the place.’
‘New thing?’ I enquired.
Mother Hale shook her head. ‘The AIDS virus.’
I had read about it in the newspapers back home. ‘Is it a big problem here?’
‘You betcha. It’s spread through blood, as best we can tell. And when people share needles... well. The babies are born with it, you see. Not that anyone seems to want to talk about it. President Cheesecake won’t even mention its name. These people need help, Mr Tanit. And they’re not gonna get it if we don’t start discussing the damn thing.’
‘Can I ask how you care for these children who have had a particularly difficult start to life?’
