by Jess Ryder
There are a couple of pound coins at the bottom of the carrier bag. I take them out and curl my fingers around them, feeling suddenly rich. There’s a shop at the other end of the building; I saw it on the way in. I’ll buy a chocolate bar, I think, maybe a puzzle book too if I can afford it.
Evening visiting has just begun. I make my way against the stream of eager traffic – excited fathers, happy grandparents, people carrying bouquets and parcels wrapped in pink and blue paper. Maybe I’m being oversensitive, but I’m sure a couple of people cast disapproving glances in my direction. I must look so young, so unfit to be a mum.
I buy a Mars bar and a packet of smoky bacon crisps, then flip-flop back to Tulip Ward. In the few minutes I’ve been away, several things have happened.
A new patient is being settled into the bed next to mine – the curtains are drawn and staff are walking in and out of the cubicle, wheeling in equipment and talking quietly.
Gemma’s curtains are drawn as well, and I can hear low voices behind them. Sounds like a man: her boyfriend, I guess. Every so often, there’s a burst of laughter.
Julie has four visitors, despite all the notices saying two is the maximum number. Her hubby (as she calls him), her toddler son and two older people I presume to be her parents are crowded around the bed, all talking at once. Her bedside cabinet is chocker with greetings cards.
It’s impossible not to feel jealous. I’m here on my own with only junk food to comfort me. I sit on the bed and burst open the packet of crisps, stuffing them mechanically into my mouth and staring blankly into space.
I should have rung Holly and Asha – they have no idea I’m in hospital. There’s a phone on a trolley in the corridor outside. I decide to save the rest of my money to call them later, when the hubbub dies down. Maybe they’ll come and see me tomorrow.
Visiting time seems endless. Julie’s toddler has just banged himself on the end of the bed and is screaming his little head off. I fiddle around with the headphones and try to tune into the hospital radio, but all I get is a horrible buzzing noise. There’s a TV, but that’s in another room and I can’t be bothered to go there. I eat my Mars bar as slowly as I can. It makes me feel sick, but I nibble at it bit by bit until it’s gone.
At last the bell rings and it’s time for people to leave. I look across at Julie’s bed, expecting her visitors to pack up quickly, but they show no sign of shifting, which irritates me. Surely two hours is long enough for anyone.
A nurse walks in – she’s wearing a purple belt over her navy uniform, and funny white puffy sleeves. ‘Time’s up!’ she says. Julie’s visitors reluctantly start to leave. Gemma’s curtains, which are directly opposite me, are drawn back by an unseen hand.
It’s like watching a piece of theatre. Before my eyes is a happy scene – a pregnant woman being kissed on the cheek by her loving boyfriend. Only there’s something amiss with the casting.
I stare open-mouthed, unable to process what – or rather who – I’m looking at. The woman is Gemma; that’s fine, that’s who I expected to see. It’s the boyfriend that doesn’t make sense.
‘See ya tomorrow, princess,’ he says in a voice that’s so familiar it cuts right through me.
He turns away from her and I’m sure he looks in my direction. But nothing registers; he doesn’t stop, or do a double-take, or even break his stride – just carries on walking out of the ward. Like I’m invisible, like I’m not even here.
‘Bye, Dean!’ Gemma coos after him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Erin
May 2020
‘Is that Miranda’s mum?’ I asked. It was gone nine and I hadn’t seen or heard from Chloe. ‘It’s Erin Whitesteed here, Chloe’s—’
‘Yes, I know who you are,’ the voice replied crisply. ‘How can I help?’
‘Um, it’s just, er … I’ve got a bit mixed up with the schedule and Chloe’s phone doesn’t seem to be working, it’s probably run out of juice. I think she’s staying over with you tonight …’
‘No.’ It was extraordinary how somebody could convey so much disapproval in just one word.
My heart sank. Where was she? ‘Oh. Right. Sorry! Must be going mad.’
‘Is everything okay? I know Chloe’s having a rough time at the mo—’
‘She’s fine, it’s just a diary thing, my mistake.’ I let out a ‘silly me’ kind of laugh. ‘Sorry to bother you. But if … um … if she does turn up at your place, will you get her to call me, please? Immediately.’
‘Yes, of course.’
I thanked her and put the phone down. It was clear from her manner that she knew the whole story and had already formed her own opinions about my fitness to be a good mum. But right then, I didn’t care what Miranda’s mother thought; I was only interested in finding Chloe. Although she’d been keeping out of my way recently, she’d always told me where she was going and had kept in touch by text. I wasn’t one of those mothers who put trackers on their kids’ phones – it had always felt too intrusive – but now I was regretting it. If she was trying to punish me by making me panic, it was working.
There was nothing for it but to call Tom, even though he was the last person I wanted to speak to. I was still in shock from the events earlier that evening. My husband and son had walked out on me, and now I seemed to have mislaid my daughter. There was an outside chance that Chloe had changed her mind about staying with me and gone to join the others at Granny’s. Reluctantly I picked up my mobile again. It rang several times before Tom answered.
‘No, I haven’t heard from her,’ he said. ‘I texted to tell her Oli and I had moved out, and she didn’t reply, which I thought was a bit odd, but you never know with teenagers, do you? Are you sure she didn’t have something on after school? A concert, maybe?’
‘Since when has Chloe been interested in school concerts?’ I snapped. ‘I’ve a bad feeling about this, Tom … She’s usually good at keeping in touch. I think maybe I should call the police.’
‘You’re catastrophising again, Erin.’
‘I’m not!’
‘Chloe’s got her head screwed on – she wouldn’t do anything stupid.’
I sighed inwardly. I knew about teenage stupidity better than anyone.
‘Look,’ Tom continued. ‘Give it another hour and then let’s speak again. Don’t worry, okay? And when she does turn up, which I’m sure she will, don’t lose your temper, stay calm.’
It was all very well for him to say that, I thought, sitting in the comfort of his mum’s lounge with a full stomach and a glass of Burgundy, no doubt. I felt angry with him for effectively washing his hands of the problem. Except I had no proof there was a problem, just a queasy feeling in my stomach that the evening was about to get worse.
There was an open bottle of wine in the kitchen. What a waste – Tom should have taken it with him. I picked it up and sniffed its contents. I’d never drunk wine as a teenager – it had been too expensive – but the smell of alcohol was enough to bring the memories flooding back: those long days hanging out in the park with Dean and his mates, getting pissed on the cheapest booze we could find. At first I’d drunk to prove that I was grown up, then I’d drunk out of boredom, and finally because I wanted to escape the misery of my situation. It had taken years to work out that alcohol was not my friend.
The red liquid swirled around the bowl then disappeared down the plughole. I felt a rush of relief that I’d resisted pouring it down my throat.
My ears pricked as I heard a familiar sound. Somebody – it had to be Chloe – was opening the front door. I ran out of the kitchen into the hallway as she came in.
‘There you are!’ I said, feeling a rush of relief. ‘Where on earth have you been?’
‘Hi, Mum,’ Chloe said breezily. ‘Sorry I’m late. I met up with Jade and we had a pizza.’
‘Hi,’ mumbled Jade as she shuffled in behind Chloe. I looked at my daughters, bewildered. What was going on? I felt instantly ambushed.
Chloe gave me a p
ointed look. ‘It’s okay, isn’t it, Mum? I told Jade you’d be fine about her coming back here.’
‘Um … yes … of course. Come in, Jade.’ I didn’t know what else to say. Seeing my elder daughter again was making my heart lurch with a strange, unidentifiable emotion. I wanted it to be love – the kind that comes included when you give birth to a child; that lies deep within the workings, impossible to delete – but I couldn’t be sure. I definitely felt very strongly about her, but the emotion could easily have been fear.
She took her jacket off and hung it over the banisters, then followed me and Chloe into the sitting room.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Sorry Chloe didn’t let you know. Her phone died.’
Chloe frowned. ‘No, I switched it off deliberately, so we could talk.’
‘Oh yeah, that’s right.’
Jade and Chloe sat on the sofa and I took the armchair. ‘So how come the two of you …?’
‘Instagram,’ said Chloe, as if it should be obvious to anyone with half a brain.
‘Right … yes.’
‘Jade wants to say something, Mum. You’ve got to listen without interrupting.’
The back of my neck prickled. ‘Okay … Fire away.’
Jade cleared her throat before speaking. ‘Yeah, I just wanted to say sorry for, like, storming off last time. I was a bit confused.’
‘We were all confused.’
‘Hmm … I was upset ’cos I thought you didn’t want to know me. But Chloe …’ she turned to give her sister a smile, ‘Chloe said you were sorry too and you did want to get to know me and for me to be part of the family, so …’ She gave up on the rest of the sentence and stared at me hopefully.
‘That’s true, isn’t it, Mum?’ said Chloe.
‘Um, yes … yes, but …’
‘But what?’
‘Well, it’s just that I’m still very upset about what happened. The girl who pretended to be you, Jade, she stole a lot of money from me.’
‘It wasn’t actually stealing,’ Jade countered. ‘I mean, I’m not saying it was right or anything, but you gave her the money.’
‘I did, yes, that’s true, but … the thing is, I can’t understand how this girl knew all about me, how she got hold of the adoption file—’
‘Jade’s worked it out,’ Chloe interrupted. ‘Go on, Jade, tell her. It makes complete sense. She’s innocent, Mum, honest; she had nothing to do with it.’
‘I do want to hear this,’ I said before Jade could speak, ‘but can we just establish a few facts first? I don’t mean to be rude or anything, Jade, but I don’t even know your surname, or where you live, or what you’ve been doing all these years. I don’t know a thing about you! The other girl said she’d been rejected by her adoptive parents and grown up in care. Is that true?’
Jade shook her head. ‘No. My parents are really kind. They’ve both got good jobs and they live in a really nice apartment. They’ve always done their best, you know, to look after me, give me a good life. But … I don’t know, I can’t explain it …’ Her eyes started to fill with tears. ‘I always felt like I didn’t fit in, like there was something missing. A gap I could never fill …’
‘It’s so sad, isn’t it, Mum?’ said Chloe, clasping Jade’s hand.
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ I said, but inside I felt relieved. The guilt I’d been feeling about giving my daughter to horrible people who’d sent her away was starting to fade. ‘So, tracking back a bit – what’s your surname? Where did you grow up?’
‘Fernsby. I grew up in north-west London. I live out east now, though.’
‘And what do your parents do?’
‘They’re both lawyers. You know, like, human rights and stuff?’
‘I see. Thanks.’ Well-off, then, I thought, pleased that they would have been able to provide for her. ‘It means a lot to me that you had a good adoption.’
‘Yeah, I did, I guess … though it wasn’t easy. ’Cos I’m so different to them, I don’t fit in with the cousins. I’m not like, really smart. I got into a lot of trouble. Had mental health issues … left school, didn’t go to uni, got into drugs, ended up on the streets …’
‘That’s tragic, Jade, but it wasn’t necessarily because you were ado—’ I started to say, but she was in full flow.
‘After a few months, I got rescued. Ended up in this hostel for young people at risk. It was a good place. I had my own room and there was a café where they gave you free breakfast and a little kitchen you had to share … And we had these workshops about not keeping everything locked inside and sharing feelings … and well, that’s how it happened.’
‘Sorry? What happened?’
‘Jade brought her adoption file in and somebody nicked it,’ announced Chloe triumphantly.
‘Oh, really? How … how come?’
Jade sighed. ‘Well, we all had to bring in something that was important to us and talk about it and how it made us feel. I brought in the file, only I forgot I’d left it in the room and when I went back the next day it had gone.’
‘So you don’t have a copy of your file any more?’
‘No.’
‘I see. And when did this theft happen?’
She hesitated. ‘About six months ago, I think. I’m sorry, it was really dumb. I’m always forgetting things – can’t help it.’
‘See, Mum?’ said Chloe. ‘That explains everything. The person who tricked you must have been one of these homeless people. You can’t blame them – they were probably desperate.’
I turned back to Jade. ‘So it was somebody in your workshop group. Do you have any idea who?’
She shook her head quickly. ‘No. It was a hostel. Different people came and went all the time, nobody stayed long, it could have been anyone. Sorry …’
I considered this for a few moments. She’d told the story well, with just the right amount of detail. Chloe was totally sold, but I didn’t believe her for a moment. For a start, the unlikely impostor had had access to a lot more information than was contained in the adoption file. I was convinced Jade had concocted the story to protect someone, but there was no point in challenging her. Chloe would have been furious with me. And besides, I didn’t want Jade to run off again.
‘Fair enough, let’s move on,’ I said, sounding like a teacher who knows full well they’ve just been lied to. ‘Can I ask you something else?’ Jade nodded nervously. ‘How did you find all that information about me? My work email, home address. I know you can get a lot off Google, but you still seem very well informed.’
Jade looked uncomfortable. I sensed she had something to confess and was debating with herself whether to tell the truth.
‘If we’re going to have a relationship as mother and daughter, we need to be totally honest with each other, don’t you think?’ I let my words settle on her like dust.
‘Yeah … Okay …’ She took a breath. ‘I went to your old house, where you were living when you gave birth to me. Nobody was in but I spoke to a neighbour. He remembered you, no problem. Said you were friends with his daughter. He used to give you lifts or something?’
A chill swept through me. ‘Go on …’
‘He said he’d talk to his wife and see if they could help, so I gave him my address and about a week later this package came through the post. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There were photos of everyone – you, Thomas, Chloe and Oli – and info about where you lived and worked, your email address, phone number, the lot.’
‘Thanks, Jade, that’s really helpful,’ I said, as everything dropped neatly – and horribly – into place at last. ‘I know exactly who helped you.’
‘Who?’ asked Chloe. ‘Who are you talking about?’
I didn’t need to ask the neighbour’s surname because I already knew it. Only one school friend had lived a few doors away in Coleridge Close. One of two people who knew all my secrets.
Asha.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jade
May 2020
Jade has
that disorientating feeling you get when you wake up in a strange bed. For a few seconds, she has no idea where she is or how she got here. Everything in the room is totally unfamiliar; in fact, her brain is insisting that she’s never seen any of it before. And then something clicks and she remembers.
Oh yes. She’s at her birth mum’s house. In the spare room.
She brushes her hair out of her eyes and sits up, propping herself against the pillows as she takes in the surroundings. Nice wallpaper – not dissimilar to the yellow flower design she invented – and pretty white-painted furniture with curved legs. A pale green roller blind at the window, a cream carpet on the floor. Prints on the walls depicting landscapes that remind her of holidays in Tuscany. A bit girlie for a guest room.
Is this her room? The one she used to fantasise about when she was a teenager; specially decorated by her birth mum in hopeful anticipation of her arrival? Of course not. A younger Jade would have deceived herself it was, but she has wised up now. There never was a bedroom waiting for her, just as there was never a family who’d kept her in their hearts and thoughts and prayed that one day she would knock at their door.
Those TV programmes are dangerous, she thinks, they’re fairy tales disguised as real life. Everything always works out so perfectly. Nobody rejects their child or parent, nobody’s angry or resentful. Fears turn out to be unfounded, burdens are lifted, and the guilt they’ve carried for decades washes away. Even when the birth mums or dads turn out to be dead, there’s always a brother or sister who’s delighted to welcome their new sibling into the family. All those emotional hugs and joyful tears, big reunions, journeys to the other side of the world … she’s sure they’re staged.
She was seduced by such fantasies for a while; allowed herself to believe her birth mum was desperate to find her, even though all the evidence pointed to the contrary. It was odd that she ever felt that way, because a big part of her loathes and despises Erin. Always has.
