by Ali Mercer
‘Ellie, what on earth are you talking about?’
Ellie shrugged. The colour was beginning to come back to her cheeks. ‘It was something bad. Some kind of torture.’
‘Ellie, this was a hospital.’
‘It was definitely right here,’ Ellie insisted. ‘Can you seriously not feel it? Not a thing?’
‘Not really. I mean… the place is definitely a bit creepy. But that could just be Ingrid.’
‘I don’t think it is only to do with her. There’s something else. Something that isn’t in the past. But it’s difficult to make sense of it when people have been keeping things to themselves.’
‘There can’t be any more to come out. Mark has a kid Mum didn’t even know about. That’s enough for one day, surely? Even in this family.’
Ellie looked me in the eyes. She gave a little shiver and shook her head. ‘You’re a liar too,’ she said, and went back to the living room.
Was she talking about Jake? But how could she possibly know? I wanted to challenge her, but instead I followed her into the living room just in time to see her stop in her tracks.
There was a local newspaper open on the coffee table, with a great big colour photograph splashed across it.
Paula and Daisy. It had to be.
The picture showed a knackered-looking woman in jeans and a T-shirt crouching down next to a dazed little girl in a stripy dress, who was staring at a set of light-up rings on her fingers. They were in a school playground; there was a stall just behind them, and blue and yellow pennants had been strung up along the edge of the awning overhead.
Both Mum and Ingrid were staring at the picture. Ingrid looked as if she wouldn’t mind if Paula and Daisy were wiped off the face of the earth. But Mum’s expression was one of recognition.
She pointed at Paula and said, ‘I’ve met her.’
Ingrid folded the newspaper and put it away in the storage space underneath the glass top of the coffee table. ‘Are you sure, dear? It doesn’t seem very likely.’
She turned to me and Ellie. ‘You might not remember, Ellie. But you will, Ava. It was the day you burned yourself on the iron, and we took Ellie into school and then took you up to A&E. We bumped into Mark afterwards, in the newsagent’s in the hospital. I hadn’t seen him for years… since I’d had you. Just one of those chance encounters. But he saw you, and you… made an impression on him. That was what prompted him to look me up, later on. When he was free.’
‘I remember the burn,’ I said. ‘I had a scar, for a bit. It’s completely gone now. I wanted to get some sweets afterwards, and I pestered you and eventually you let me. I don’t remember her, though.’
‘She’s not especially memorable, really,’ Ingrid said.
‘I never did find out why they were there,’ Mum said. ‘Mark didn’t want to say.’
‘I think that’s enough dwelling on the past, don’t you?’ Ingrid said. She got up from her knees, settled back into her chair and took a sip of sherry. ‘Do sit down, girls. If Mark isn’t here in another five minutes, we had better start our lunch without him.’
Ellie and I took up our places on the sofa again. Mum had fallen to studying the engagement ring on her finger, turning it fractionally this way and that to catch the light.
She looked worn out. Resigned. Maybe she’d manage some kind of confrontation with Mark – Why didn’t you tell me? You should have told me – but really, it was too late. She’d already thrown in her lot with him, and she was in too deep to walk away.
Ingrid said, ‘I’m sorry, you’ll find me very direct, but in my view it’s much better for us all to know where we stand. Now we’ve got all that out of the way, I don’t want any of you to give Paula and her daughter another thought. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind holding off mentioning all this to Mark, for now? He’s bound to be stressed after the awful time he’s had getting here, and there’s no point spoiling his lunch. It’s not as if I get to see him all that often. He does his best, of course, and he’s very good about phoning. But he’s so busy all the time.’
‘I suppose I could talk to him about it later,’ Mum said.
‘I do think that might be best. Just let him know I’ve filled you in. It’ll be an enormous relief to him. I know he’s been very worried about it. Whether you would find out, what you would think, when and how to tell you and so on. Not that he really had any reason to worry. After all, it’s not as if he’s done anything wrong.’
Suddenly Ellie piped up in a thin little voice: ‘Did they used to do operations here?’
It seemed like an inoffensive thing to want to know, except somehow anything Ellie asked had an edge to it. Ingrid responded by staring accusingly at Mum, as if she must have let something inappropriate out of the bag for Ellie to think of asking such a thing.
‘I have to say, I don’t think this is a very suitable subject for conversation,’ she said. ‘But yes, on occasion, they did. If you want the grisly details, I suggest you ask your mother later.’
Ellie folded her arms and went quiet. I said, ‘Does Paula know that Mark is getting married again?’
I couldn’t imagine that Paula would exactly be happy for us when she found out, however unfaithful she’d been to Mark. After all, it would surely be a kick in the teeth for her ex-husband to marry again so quickly after their divorce, no matter how unsatisfactory the marriage had been… Especially if his bride-to-be was someone he’d slept with when he was still married to Paula. And then had a child with.
Perhaps Paula didn’t know about that? After all, Mark hadn’t told us about Daisy. Maybe he hadn’t told Paula about me.
But if Paula did know…
Well, she wouldn’t exactly be planning to send the happy couple something nice for a wedding present, would she? She wouldn’t be wanting to send them anything nice at all.
Ingrid raised her glass of sherry to her lips, finished it, and slowly and thoughtfully set it down.
‘I suppose you have a point. Paula ought to know,’ she said.
‘Perhaps Mark should handle it,’ Mum suggested.
‘Please, Jenny, don’t concern yourself,’ Ingrid said sharply. ‘I don’t want Mark to be concerned, either. You’ve got much more important things to think about. Like your wedding. I’m so pleased that you’re going to get all that sorted sooner rather than later and I quite agree that under the circumstances, a simple registry office ceremony is all that’s required, but still, there are things to think about, aren’t there? Not to mention setting up home together, and finding new schools for the children and all of that. And you’ll need to wind up your hairdressing business.’
‘I might pick it up again once I’ve had the baby,’ Mum said. ‘When we’re settled in the new house, and I’ve begun to get to know people.’
‘Oh, I don’t suppose that’ll be necessary,’ Ingrid said. ‘You’ll be able to concentrate on being a mother. I’m sure that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?’ She got to her feet. ‘Now, how about some lunch? I’ve got some smoked salmon. I thought it might be a nice treat. And we do have rather a lot to celebrate. I do hope you can eat it, Jenny? I lose track of what they say pregnant women can have these days.’
‘I think it’s all right,’ Mum said, not looking particularly sure.
‘Good. Then let’s eat.’
We moved over to the table. Ingrid whisked away the covering cloths and went off to the kitchen to get the smoked salmon out of the fridge. She was the kind of person who had butter in a proper butter dish, with a proper butter knife, and crystal glasses and napkins in antique silver napkin rings.
Ellie and Mum and I sat there in silence, as if we had no idea what to begin to say to each other. Mum was staring into space, and Ellie might as well not have been there at all. It was as if she’d decided that the only way to get through lunch was to fade into non-existence.
And that was when I realised how close the three of us had been, once… all those years when I’d thought our lives were really awful, wh
en we were moving from one rented flat to another and Sean was being useless and there was never any money and one thing would break after another – the telly, the kettle, the soles of Ellie’s shoes. A seemingly endless sequence of little disasters that required the spending of money we didn’t have.
And yet we hadn’t been broken. We’d been unbreakable. A perfect equilateral triangle, each one of us balanced out by the other two.
And now?
We’d splintered. An impartial observer who’d been parachuted in to sit at that table would have concluded that we were almost entirely disconnected from each other. And I could only see that it was going to get worse.
Mum had her fiancé, her new baby… Ingrid to keep happy… her other half’s other child to try not to think about. All that was going to take up energy and time, and there would be next to nothing left for us.
And I had my big plans for the future: university, a career, money. Plus I had Jake to see me through everything that was wrong with now. Meanwhile, Ellie seemed to have withdrawn into some remote attic of her imagination. She’d always had a tendency to get overwrought, but this strange, fraught little scene appeared to have done for her completely.
Still, I wasn’t responsible for her, was I? There was a limit to what I could do. I wasn’t the one making decisions about her future. I was her sister, the one she was still sharing a room with. Not her mother.
Ingrid came back in with the smoked salmon on a tray, along with some quiche and a pot of pâté. Mum and I tucked in. Ellie picked at things and forgot to put her napkin on her lap; I had to kick her under the table to remind her. Ingrid asked Mum about the wedding, and Mum told her about the restaurant that had been booked for afterwards and the dress she’d chosen and so on. Then they got onto the subject of the honeymoon and Ingrid said she’d be very happy to keep an eye on me and Ellie, and I protested that we didn’t need a babysitter and then Mark arrived.
The impact on Ingrid was immediate. It was quite a transformation; she smiled and looked adoring, and everything about her was softer and more vulnerable than before. That was when it hit me: she really did live for her son. His happiness, his success, were everything to her. And we were part of that, and Paula and her little girl most definitely weren’t.
But Mark wasn’t really paying attention to Ingrid. He went over to Mum to kiss her on the cheek, and she was stiff and awkward with him, the way she was with Sean. It wasn’t quite as bad; she wouldn’t have let Sean kiss her. She preferred to keep Sean at arm’s length, if not further. But she was being cooler than I’d ever seen her be with Mark before.
Ellie and I exchanged glances, and I gave a tiny shrug, too small for anyone else to notice. What could we do about it, anyway? This was their business.
Ingrid went into the kitchen to fetch Mark a glass of non-alcoholic beer. The rest of us settled at the table. Mark said to Mum, ‘Is everything all right?’
She stared at him. ‘When were you going to tell me?’
‘Tell you what?’
I had never seen anyone look so nakedly guilty. If criminals looked like that when questioned about their wrongdoing, there would be no need for forensic science.
Mum’s eyes were wet with tears. ‘She said you have a child you never see.’
They gazed at each other. Ellie and I might as well not have been in the room.
‘I do,’ Mark said. ‘But it’s not my fault.’
‘Whatever happened, I had a right to know about it before I agreed to marry you.’
‘But, Jenny, under the circumstances… would it have made any difference?’
‘That was for me to decide! I am not dependent on you. I’m here because I choose to be, not because I need to be. I coped on my own with two children and believe me, if I have to, I’ll cope on my own with three!’
‘Jenny, please.’
‘I don’t understand why you didn’t say anything. You knew everything about me. So why keep something like that to yourself?’
‘Why do you think? Because I was ashamed!’
Mark hid his face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking and I realised he was crying. I’d never seen a man cry before.
Ingrid came in with Mark’s drink and set it carefully down on the occasional table next to him.
‘It’s all right,’ she said to Mark, and rested a hand on his shoulder. Gradually he quietened. ‘Jenny isn’t like Paula. I knew that the minute I set eyes on her. She’s angry now, but she’ll see reason and she’ll be willing to listen. She won’t punish you. Thank goodness, I think she’ll be capable of forgiveness.’
Mark straightened up and faced Mum again.
‘I’m so sorry, Jenny,’ he said, and looked at her like a kicked puppy pleading for affection.
‘That’s the way,’ Ingrid said, sitting down again. ‘By and by you should have a little bit to eat, Mark. You’ll feel better.’
Mum said, ‘I think the girls and I should go.’ She glared at Mark. ‘We can talk about all this another time. When I’ve had a chance to digest it.’
She didn’t get out of her chair, though. She looked exhausted. The fight seemed to have gone out of her the minute Mark started crying.
‘Don’t go,’ Mark said. ‘Please. I know it was unforgivable of me. It was just… it was all so wonderful. At first I didn’t want to put you off. And then I didn’t want to wreck it.’ He glanced at his mother – a wary look, as if he was scared to be angry with her. ‘I just never found the right time. But I had no idea my mother was going to spring this on us today.’
‘It’s not her fault,’ Mum said.
She had begun to soften. It was obvious. That was the thing about her; she never stayed angry for long. I’d seen it with Sean, again and again. I’d even seen her do it with me and Ellie. If someone confessed and apologised, she always, always gave them the benefit of the doubt.
‘I’ve made summer pudding,’ Ingrid said. ‘You can’t all go without at least trying it.’
I think Ingrid knew we wouldn’t go, in the end. And we didn’t.
Ellie looked very pale, and only managed a bite or two of the summer pudding, which neither of us had ever tried before. It was a strange creation – a dome of wet purple bread, soaked with juice and filled with glistening blackberries and blueberries. When Ingrid brought it in, Ellie looked as queasy as if she was being offered brains or tripe.
If she’d actually been sick, that might have got us out of there. But she wasn’t. She sat in silence as Ingrid served up and asked Mark about his work trip and his journey, and Mark gave a long, boring answer that I didn’t pay any attention to.
Ellie picked at her pudding and the rest of us tucked in, and the conversation shifted into small talk: roadworks and potholes and taxi firms, and the ongoing problems over spaces in the car park by Ingrid’s flat. It might have been almost comical if the atmosphere in the room hadn’t stayed deadly serious.
* * *
After a while Ellie and I helped Ingrid clear the table and she brought out a pot of coffee and a little silver dish of peppermints.
Did other families do this – sit round pretending everything was normal when it wasn’t? Perhaps they did. Perhaps this was an essential skill for family life… along with knowing what secrets you could get away with keeping, and when you were going to have to come clean about others.
So Mark was a dad already. It wasn’t really that surprising – he was kind of old. There was a pretty high probability that anyone Mum started dating would have a kid. If not more than one.
I sometimes talked to Toby Andrews at school about stuff like that. Maybe because he had a crush on me, he seemed to think I was a good person to talk to, even though, in the normal way of things, I really wasn’t. Toby had three step-brothers, shared a room with one of them and hated them all. Step-sibling relationships, as far as I could tell, were like other sibling relationships, but with even less in common. Light relief from the parent or parents, sometimes, and the forced bonding of enduring the s
ame domestic set-up. But also, frequently seriously annoying.
At least I’d had plenty of time to get used to Ellie. Even if, as it turned out, we only shared one parent and not two…
Last thing I needed was yet another kid around. The baby was quite enough to be going on with. Was it callous of me, being unbothered about this other one being out of the picture? It just seemed to make things easier. Because if she was how Ingrid had described her, what on earth would we say to her if we did meet her? It wouldn’t just be awkward. It would be completely impossible.
Ingrid and Mark and I had coffee, which made me feel as if I was more one of them than I was like Mum or Ellie. Well, I was, wasn’t I? I didn’t go out of my way to be nice to people, and I quite liked expensive things and sometimes other people thought I was a bit up myself. Yeah, I was a Walsh all over. My father’s daughter, learning how to live a double life. There I was with my big secret, my hot affair with an older man, my thoroughly lost innocence, and nobody had any idea.
It seemed that it was a whole lot easier to live with a secret than to be exposed. There must be people all over who understood that. Adulterers, bigamists, people who knew where the bodies were buried but fancied a quiet life.
I was a liar. So how could I condemn Mark for being one too?
After coffee we all said thank you and goodbye to Ingrid in the entrance hall to her flat and went out to the car park, where Mum’s old banger was parked next to Mark’s Jag. Mark said to Mum, ‘Do you still want to call in at the house?’
She glanced down at her engagement ring, then up at him. ‘I do,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it ridiculous, to have got this far without me ever having seen where you live?’
‘I guess we have form when it comes to doing things in an unconventional order,’ he said.
‘You’re not wrong there,’ she said. ‘You’d better lead the way. Don’t go too fast. Or too slow. Let’s aim for nice and steady, OK?’
‘OK.’
Ellie and I got into Mum’s car and she followed Mark out of the landscaped grounds and onto the main road.
