Authors: Lesley Cheetham
chapter 5
Mum wanted to talk to me, I could tell. She was like an animal, poised for the kill.
I pretended to study the book balanced on my lap, sipping at my can of coke. I peeked at her out of the corner of my eye.
My tall, oh so elegant mother. She was folded neatly behind her huge Apple Mac, all power suit and high heels. She didn’t look like a mum. Real mums wore slippers and slopped about in jumpers and sweat pants. Mum hadn’t been on that particular training course. Gran, on the other hand, was a proper gran with curly grey hair, flowery dresses and she worshipped her only granddaughter. She was actually Michael’s mother, but had been so disgusted with Michael running off like he did that she had taken mum’s side and had very little contact with him. I closed my eyes, trying to shut Gran out of my head. Why did I have to come from the smallest family ever? One girl in my class had seven brothers. I had asked Mum if we could have a pet once and she had suggested a goldfish. Really, a goldfish!
Mum filed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her head trembled slightly as her eyes flew back and forth, taking in the document on screen.
I know you’re not reading,’ Mum said, swivelling her chair and resting her icy eyes on me.
‘Am!’
I said, staring hard at my book. Her stare was
making
me squirm. ‘I’m surprised you noticed. Your work is usually far more important that anything I have to say.’ She stood up from the chair and placed herself onto the sofa next to me.
‘Look, I know you’re angry with me but we need to sort this out. I’m sorry I sprung the New York trip on you, but Clare is happy for you to stay there so that’s a weight off my mind.’
‘Mum,’ I groaned, ‘I’m not staying with Clare. Jeremy’s a creep.’ I couldn’t stand to look at Clare’s son, let alone share a house with him.
‘Oh don’t be ridiculous. He’s a perfectly nice
boy, he’s just a bit awkward around girls, that’s all. It’s his age.’
‘Perfectly nice,’ I mocked. ‘He’s a pervert.’
‘Jasmine stop it. You’re being deliberately difficult as usual.’ I bit down on my lip to stop myself from exploding.
‘I’ve got a better idea. Tess says I can stay with her at Mark’s. He’s twenty now, and you’ve always said how much you like him.’
She narrowed her eyes.
‘He’s really
responsible, he’s got his own flat and everything!’
‘That’s not a bad idea. Let me think about it. Now let me get on with my work.’
I headed off upstairs. Mum’s bag was in the passage, the evening’s paper sticking out. I took it up to my bedroom with me. I switched my iPod on and turned it up full blast. I’d rather scratch my own eyes out than stay with bossy Clare and creepy Jeremy.
I lay on the bed and unfolded the paper. Miriam
Jackson was on page three. The now familiar picture leapt out at me. I scanned the article, eager to verify what Mum had told me. There it was. Miriam had disappeared at four o’clock on Friday May 26th. The day Mum had met Michael at the station. I opened my laptop and typed
map of Keston
into the search engine. A colourful square revealed itself bit by bit. I hovered the mouse over it.
Map of Keston, Buckinghamshire
. I froze on my bed. Mum had said Michael was living there. Amersham, that was it. I opened the map fully and moved it around over the screen. There! Amersham was right next to Keston. I sat back, the thought that it was perfectly possible that Michael had gone to Keston going round in my head. If Michael wanted to see me, this could be a perfect opportunity to find out exactly what he had been up to when Miriam disappeared.
CHAPTER 6
Pear Tree House was a series of connected low-level buildings that screamed institution from every brick. Curtain free windows revealed several seemingly empty bedrooms, with two large lounges, mostly full of old people. Rows of chairs faced a huge television screen, which had the volume turned up very loud. One old lady clutched a large clock face to her.
‘Three o’clock dearie,’ she said, tilting the clock towards me. I looked away.
I signed in,
then scanned the faces quickly, most of the old people were asleep and there was no sign of Gran. She’d told me she preferred to stay in her room. That was before she’d forgotten who I was.
A nurse bustled towards me.
‘Hello dear,’ she said. ‘Jasmine isn’t it?’ I nodded, hoping this smiley lady was looking after Gran. ‘Margaret isn’t so well today,’ she said, ‘she’s getting frustrated that she can’t remember things. Hopefully you’ll be able to cheer her up.’ My mood dropped a little. Gran’s door was open and I could see her sitting in an armchair, gazing out of the window. She was holding something in her hand. I pulled a smile onto my face and went in.
‘Gran,’ I called quietly, not wanted to startle her. She turned her head slowly and gazed at my face. Suddenly a smiled made her face go all crinkly. ‘I was hoping you’d come. Sit down and talk to me. I haven’t spoken to anyone for days.’
I perched on the edge of the bed, unable to relax. ‘It’s me, Jasmine,’ I said.
‘I know dear. Have you been at school today?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s Sunday, Gran.’ The object on her lap was a photograph, a black and white one. She was clutching it tightly.
‘You see there I go again, I don’t know what day it is in here. Every day seems the same. Where am I anyway? Is this my house? I don’t remember inviting all these people in.
Its most peculiar.’
I sighed. ‘It’s where you live now Gran. It’s very nice, lots of people to talk to and you’ve got your own room.’
She wasn’t listening. She was staring at the photograph.
‘Where is he? He said he would come and see me again.’
‘Who, Gran?’
‘Him, of course.’
She held the photograph out for me to look at, but wouldn’t let go of it. I peered at the couple standing in front of an old fashioned looking car. It was Mum and Michael. I wanted to grab it from her hands and burn the details into my brain. I’d never seen a picture of them looking happy together before.
‘Michael,’ she said. ‘Where is he?’ She started to rock
backwards and forwards, agitated. Unease spread through me.
‘I don’t know,’ I babbled. ‘I haven’t seen him for a long time. Mum and Dad got divorced. Don’t you remember?’ I added, forgetting.
Duh Jasmine
.
Gran lifted her head away from the photograph and the look she gave me threw a chill right through me. ‘You’re a liar!’ she said.
‘Gran! Of course I’m not. How can you say that…?’
‘He promised
me. He stood right there and he promised. He said he would come back to see me.’
‘When was that Gran? When did you see him?’
‘The other day. Look.’ She pointed to a glass of yellow tulips on the window sill. ‘He brought me flowers. First time in years a man has given me flowers.’ She laughed to herself. The flowers were fresh, the water clear. A piece of paper was tucked under the vase. I pulled it out. Gran was still chuckling. It was another photograph. I shoved it into my pocket.
‘What else did he say, Gran?’
‘He said he would be back as soon as he could but he wanted to bring her to see me. I told him no, never.’
‘Who did
he…?’
Gran cut me off mid-sentence. ‘How dare you come here without permission? He never could keep a promise. Why did he let you come?’
‘Gran, it’s me Jasmine, please…’
‘Oh I know who you are,’ she said, nodding slowly. ‘You look like her but I’m not that stupid.’ Her voice had got loud and shrill and I could hear footsteps approaching along the corridor. I stood up. The smiley nurse was
no longer smiling. ‘Is everything alright in here? What’s the matter Margaret?’
‘This girl says she’s Jasmine. I know who she really is. He knows I don’t want to see her. I told him. I told him not to bring her.’
The nurse shot me an apologetic glance. ‘I think you’d better go. She gets confused easily. Just go downstairs to the office and wait for me there.’
I picked up my bag, my heart bursting. Gran had always been my rock.
‘It’s her. It’s the other one. Get her out of here. Pretending to be Jasmine she is, how dare she?’
‘Let me
get you a cup of tea Margaret,’ said the nurse. I made my way towards the door.
‘Just because you look like her,’ shouted Gran. ‘You can’t fool me.’
I turned and ran down the corridor. ‘Where’s Jasmine?’ Gran was shouting, ‘Let me see her!’
Her words followed me down the corridor, mocking me. I charged along, head down, not wanting anyone to see the tears prickling my eyes. I rushed into the nurses’ staff room and shoved my hands over my ears. Who did Gran think I was?
I paced around the small airless room, trying to make sense of Gran’s words. What other girl?
The nurse came back, hurrying down the corridor.
‘You poor wee thing,’ she said. She was holding Gran’s photograph. She caught my glance. ‘She threw this at me – it seemed to be upsetting her.’
‘I’ll look after it,’ I said, snatching it from her grasp. ‘It’s my mum and dad,’ I explained. ‘I haven’t seen this picture before. We don’t see him anymore.’ I slid it into my bag, before she could change her mind.
‘Yes, she talked about him a lot when she first came in. He’s her only son isn’t he?’ I nodded.
‘He left when I was a baby.’
‘Your mum told me. I was surprised when he turned up here the other day.’ I stared at her.
‘So he was here?’
‘Oh yes. She seemed really happy to see him.’
I had to put my hand on the wall to steady myself. ‘When was this?’ I asked.
‘A few days ago,’ she said.
‘Did you speak to him? Or Gran? Do you know what she was talking about, saying I was pretending to be me?’
She took my hands. Her eyes were soft. Mine were hard and my skin was prickling.
‘Jasmine, love, your Gran isn’t well. She forgets people and faces. She didn’t mean anything by her comments, so try and ignore them. Maybe come with your Mum next time?’
I snatched my hands from hers and jumped up.
‘No way,’ I said. ‘She hasn’t got time for Gran. I’m the only one who ever has.’
I turned and hurried along the corridor, unable to stop the tears now. I stopped at the signing in and out book at reception and glanced over my shoulder. There wasn’t a soul around. I flicked back to the page for the 25
th
May. There it was, Michael Robertson. I took out my phone and snapped a photograph of the page. He’d arrived at 1.45 and left at 2.30pm. I frowned. His address was listed as the Metropole Hotel, Bucks. Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand I turned back to the current page and signed out. Then I ran as fast as I could out of the building.
I ran and ran until I couldn’t breathe and doubled over in the street. I checked my bag; the photograph was still there. I went into a corner shop and bought a bottle of water, and then went into the park to sit down for a bit. I needed to think things through. I went back over Gran’s words in my head.
The other one? I shook my head. The nurse was probably right – she was getting confused. It was the first time she had seen Michael in years, after all. It was bound to muddle her up.
When I got home that evening I went straight into the kitchen and took out a cold can of coke. Mum was in her study working.
‘Hi Jasmine,’ she called out. ‘I’m in here.’ Papers were strewn all over the desk and she was punching furiously into a calculator. She pushed her glasses onto her head and picked up a large glass of red wine, which had smudges of pink lipstick on the side. ‘You timed it perfectly,’ she said, lifting some books from the chair next to her, motioning me to sit down.
‘Tina from Pear Tree House phoned. She told me what happened. I’m sorry, darling; I wish you hadn’t had to experience that.’ She paused to take a gulp from her wine glass. ‘But it links to some news I have for you. There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’ll just spit it out. I’ve been in contact with your father.’
‘What?’ I spluttered.
‘He phoned me. He’d found out about Gran being
ill and he needed some documents from her. We arranged to meet.’
‘So you’ve seen him?’
She nodded.
‘He came to my office.’
‘When was this?’
‘A few days ago’
I felt as if ice had been poured into me. I stared at her. ‘You mean you actually saw him and you didn’t tell me?’
And he’s wanted on Crimewatch –
I managed to stop myself blurting out the words. I shoved my hands under my thighs and squeezed hard.
‘Look, I should have told you, I was going to but… I’m telling you now.’ She sat up straight and put her hands on the desk.
‘Actually, he wants to see you.’
The mouthful of coke I’d just taken hit the back of my throat and almost burst back out of my mouth,
making me cough.
‘Why now?’
‘His family are relocating to England this summer, from France. I imagine it has something to do with that.’
I felt hot all over, just thinking about him. Gran had eventually told me that Michael had left Mum for another woman. I didn’t understand how he could abandon us like that. And now he had another family.
Mum picked up her wine glass. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’
‘Mum! How can you say that? You can’t make decisions like this without asking me.’
‘You don’t want to see him do you?’
I closed my eyes, feeling nauseous. ‘I don’t know what I think at the moment.’
Mum went out to the kitchen and came back holding a wine bottle. She poured the rich red liquid into her glass and took a large mouthful. I wondered what it would taste like. Would that calm me down?’
‘I am so angry with your father. How dare he interfere like this? Margaret made it clear a long time ago she wanted nothing more to do with him and now that she’s ill he is taking advantage of her.
Sneaking over to see her like that.’ She took another large gulp of her drink and sat down again.
‘It was horrid, Mum, with Gran. She was OK at first, a bit snappy, but at least she knew who I was, then suddenly she changed and started accusing me of being someone else.’
‘What exactly did she say?’
‘She said she knew I was “the other one” and that
he
had promised not to bring her.’
A shadow
crossed Mum’s face. ‘What is it Mum?’ I asked. ‘Do you know what she was talking about?’
She paused for a second,
then shook her head. ‘It doesn’t mean anything. Gran doesn’t know what she’s saying any more. It’s sad, I know, but you must try not to attach any meaning to her words. I’m so angry with your father, I’ve a good mind to ring him up and tell him exactly what I think.’
‘I didn’t know who Gran was talking about at first when she said that Michael had been. It was only when I saw his name written in the book that I believed her.’ A thought occurred to me. ‘When did you see Michael, what date?’
Mum went over to the side table and opened her diary.
‘Friday, May 26
th
. He came to my office. He was on his way to the station to get a train to Amersham.’
‘
Amersham?’
‘It’s in Buckinghamshire. That’s where he’s moving to.’
‘Mum,’ I said, drawing the word out as I tried to make sense of all the jumbled thoughts in my head. ‘I think I would like to meet Michael.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Jasmine I don’t think…’
‘Let me speak to him at least.’
‘OK.’
‘And about the summer, please let me stay with Tess and Mark. I promise I’ll check in with Clare while I’m there so she knows I’m OK, and maybe I could meet up with Michael then.’ I was tripping over the words now, they were spilling out of my mouth of their own accord. ‘You can ask him, can’t you?’ I crossed my fingers behind my back.
Mum looked perplexed. ‘I don’t understand you
Jasmine, why this sudden urge to see your father?’
‘I need some answers, Mum.’
She stared into her wine glass and sighed. ‘That means I’ll have to speak to him again.’ She looked as if she had something nasty in her mouth. ‘You realize he has another family now.’ She looked directly into my eyes. ‘It isn’t going to be easy for you. He said he was on Skype, that’s probably the best way to go about it.’