And now Theresa was likely to meet the woman who had all that. Birth mother. Caroline. And Kay felt pierced and ugly and spent and miserable. It was truly lousy timing.
‘I’d better go,’ Faith said. ‘They’ll let you home tomorrow, yes? Shall I pick you up?’
‘Theresa’s offered.’
‘OK. I’ll call round. Let me know if you need any shopping or anything. Remember, no lifting.’
Faith turned back to her. A good friend, so important. ‘What about a holiday? We could go away.’
She looked at her askance, peering over the top of her glasses.
‘No, really.’ She smiled. ‘Do something for ourselves. You and me, free woman now. Once you’re feeling better.’
She couldn’t imagine feeling better.
‘I’ve always fancied the States,’ Faith said.
‘Christ, Faith. I was imagining Devon.’ Faith had holidayed there for years. The odd trip to Brittany. No further afield with three children.
‘The States?’ Kay repeated.
‘Yep. Well, where would you go?’
‘I don’t know,’ she considered, her mind flicking through continents and countries. ‘Egypt.’
‘Egypt!’
‘Yes,’ she smiled.
‘OK.’
‘OK, what?’
‘Egypt, this year, the States the next.’
Kay grinned. Why the hell not? It wouldn’t change everything else but it wouldn’t make it worse. And after all it was about time she saw something of the planet.
Caroline
She had written again and Theresa had replied again. More photos. Wonderful pictures of her with her husband and Ella, the little girl. Her grand-daughter. They were worried about Ella. Theresa had asked Helen to find out about the family medical history. Caroline didn’t know of anything like epilepsy in her background and she didn’t remember anything like that about the Colbys. There was a picture of Ella as a newborn and she looked just like Theresa had. She had put everything with her stones, hidden away.
She had spent two hours with Helen in London. Once she started talking she couldn’t stop, an avalanche. She had told her everything. About the breakdowns, about the night they caught her trying to run away with her baby. The memories so vivid they were like flashbacks and the feelings so strong she got in a right state but Helen was very good about it.
‘Some things have gone forever,’ she said, ‘the ECT, bits that are just missing. I feel so guilty. She sounds so happy but I still feel guilty. I always have. Like carrying a big sin around. No one knew. Well, my parents, but they pretended it was all hunky-dory. I’d lost a child and there wasn’t even a grave.’
I want to meet her, she realised. I want to see her.
‘I’d like to meet her,’ she told Helen. ‘But I have to tell Paul. I don’t know what he'll do.’
‘What do you think he’ll do?’
She shook her head. ‘And the boys.’ She sighed, maybe she shouldn’t.
‘We find that siblings are often quite pleased to find a brother or sister, especially when they’re already grown up. After the first surprise it can be quite a strong relationship. Responses vary of course but it sounds like you’re quite a close family anyway.’
Caroline shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m frightened of what might change. It’s like blowing everything up.’
‘It feels destructive?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘I don’t think so. It’s a big upheaval certainly and people feel a lot of conflicting emotions but there’s the positive aspect of some sort of resolution. You must decide for yourself, take your time. If you want to talk to me just pick up the phone. And if you do decide to tell you husband and your sons I’d be very happy to see any of them if they needed some support.’
But she hadn’t told them yet. And each time she thought about it she felt her skin grow cold and her stomach sink and dread seep into her, tainting the joy and the passion she felt when she looked at the pictures.
There was a small enclosed area to the side of the house that Davey and Caroline had designed to try out some ideas for the garden makeover service. It had become known as Mum’s grotto. The main feature was a large still pool, with flagged paths alongside it. Its edges were fringed with marginal plants, reeds and rushes. At one end they had placed a huge slab of the local limestone, big enough to sit on. Two sides of the garden were built in dry-stone walling and dotted with alpines and creepers, a homage to Paul’s Yorkshire roots. Opposite the rock an arching framework covered with honeysuckle and wisteria provided an arbor for a seat.
The grotto, or variations on it, had sold itself several times over at the upper end of the market.
Caroline was sitting on the arbor seat when she heard Paul coming, with the distinctive footfall and the tap of his stick.
‘Getting late,’ he observed, sitting beside her.
‘Yes.’
He put his hand on her leg. She stiffened. Then covered his palm with her own. ‘Paul, there’s something I have to tell you.’
He turned to look at her, she stared straight ahead. She’s leaving me, he thought, though the idea surprised him. Why would she want to leave him? Where would she go? With whom?
‘Before I met you, when I was just sixteen, I had a baby, a girl. She was adopted.’
There was a pause. ‘I know,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘I know . . .’
‘But . . .’
‘One of the doctors let it slip, when you were in hospital, when you were in Collins Hill, after Davey.’
She gasped. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ She was stricken.
‘How could I? You’d kept it a secret, you never breathed a word, what else could I do? I thought about it but I was worried that . . . I didn’t want to upset you.’
‘You just carried on?’ She was angry.
‘Like you did, you mean?’ He retorted. ‘Pretending Davey was the first? Talking about how a girl might be nice? Yes, Caroline.’
‘Oh, god. You must have hated me.’
‘No!’ he protested. ‘OK, I felt deceived at first. It felt like everything was false, our marriage, Davey. I was furious, actually, but what could I do? You were ill, Davey was at my mother’s. It felt like everything was coming apart but I didn’t want to lose you. I wanted us to make a go of it. So I settled for second best.’
She whimpered.
‘No, not like that.’ He put his other hand on hers. ‘I mean, because you couldn’t trust me, I had to get used to the idea that you didn’t love me enough to share everything. So I decided that would have to do, I’d take whatever you could give. And the kids, of course, they mean the world to me. They always have.’
‘Oh, Paul!’ Her eyes stung, ‘I did love you, I do, completely. I was a coward. I thought I might lose you if I said anything and then as time went on . . . Was I wrong?’ She began to cry, noiselessly. ‘Maybe I was wrong but I didn’t dare test it out. I’m so sorry.’
‘Why now?’ He asked her. ‘Why tell me now?’
‘She’s been in touch. I’ve got photos, letters . . . she . . .’ She could no longer speak and turned sobbing into his chest.
And he held her close and let his own tears slide down his face and into her hair.
Kay
‘I just want today to be over,’ Kay said. ‘I’d like to go to sleep and wake up and find it’s next week.’
‘We could go out for bit,’ Adam said, ‘get lunch.’
Once the date had been arranged Adam had offered to visit Kay. She suspected that Theresa had put him up to it. She had almost refused, not sure she wanted to share her vulnerability with him but then he was Theresa’s father. It was the two of them who had been to St Ann’s to bring her home and watch her grow and read her Winnie the Pooh, and who had taught her to sing ‘Incy Wincy Spider’ and to ride a bike and make daisy chains, and who loved her. He had always loved her, just like Kay, and it seemed appropriate that they wait together for word of the reunion.
‘She might ring . . .’ She looked at him in anguish.
‘Kay, they’re not meeting till two o’clock. Why would she ring before?’
‘Reassurance?’
‘So we just sit here?’
‘And climb the walls.’
The doorbell interrupted her. She went to open it.
‘Dominic! Jacob!’ She put a hand down to her grandson, still having to avoid heaving things about. ‘This is a surprise! Come in.’
Dominic winked at his father. ‘I need a haircut, Gill’s at work. I thought if you could have Jacob for a bit . . .’
‘Of course. Give me something to keep my mind occupied.’
‘You sure this is all right?’
‘Fine,’ Kay said, ‘be as long as you like. C’mon, Jacob, let’s find you something to play with.’
Caroline
‘Time to go,’ Paul yelled up the stairs.
Caroline hung over the toilet, retching without effect. She rinsed her mouth out, took another Rennie. ‘Oh, God,’ she prayed. ‘Help me.’
Downstairs she looked around anxiously. ‘Where’s my bag?’
‘There, with the presents.’
She collected her coat.
‘Ready?’
‘No.’ She blinked hard, took a breath through her nose. ‘Yes.’
She followed him out.
‘Paul, I’m scared.’
He rested his stick against the wall. Put his hands on her shoulders. ‘It’ll be all right.’ She looked into his eyes, warm and loving. Nodded, Yes.
Heard her grandma’s voice, loud and full of life, urging her on. Go on Mouse. Go on. Laughter.
She took a deep breath of air, full of the scents of her plants. Looked back at the house, which would never be the same after today, and turned to the car.
I’m coming, Theresa. I’m coming.
Theresa
‘Is it creased?’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Oh, Craig, I’m so nervous. It’s worse than getting married.’
‘It’ll be all right.’
What’s the time? We can’t be late.’
‘We’re not late.’
‘What if she hates me?’
‘Nobody’s going to hate anybody.’
‘What if she doesn’t come?’
‘She’ll come. Get in the car, for the love of God.’
‘You’ll wait outside, you promise?’
‘Aye, until hell freezes over.’
She swallowed. ‘I feel sick.’
He looked at her steadily. ‘Car.’
‘Hold me.’
He hugged her tight.
‘I love you,’ she said.
‘Me too. Now get in the car.’
It was time to go. Time to discover her past. And to find her future. Time to complete the circle. She stood on the threshold and felt the world stop turning.
Outside the door, poised for flight. Her heart was bumping too fast in her chest, fingers clenched. She could just go. Turn and walk away. Cruel, yes, but not impossible. This side of the door there was still room for fantasies, for dreams of what she might be like, for scenes of happy ever after, of coming home, of finding peace. But in there, once across the threshold, there would only ever be reality: stark, unrelenting, unchangeable. No going back. No escape. Her ears were buzzing and her skull and back felt tight with tension. She couldn’t breathe properly.
She closed her eyes momentarily, fighting the rising panic. Don’t think. Just open the door.
She put her hand out and grasped the handle. Turned and pushed. Stepped into the room. Saw the woman on the couch rise unsteadily to her feet. Smiling. Moving towards her, mouth working with emotion. Little exclamations popping softly, hello, oh, hello. Arms opening, eyes drinking her in.