by Allen, Anne
After three years of marriage Mary was desperate and took herself off to her doctor.
There followed a round of invasive and, for both of them, embarrassing tests.Mary recalled that awful meeting with the consultant. She had continued to hope that the tests would show that something could be done – a “miracle cure” – and she would instantly become pregnant. She sat with Ian in the consultant’s office, hands tightly clasped, her stomach clenched with anxiety and on hearing his words, ‘I’m … so … sorry … insufficient … eggs … low … sperm … count … chances of conceiving …’ she had felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach and crumpled up in a tearful heap. Ian, his jaw set tight, showed no emotion as he tried to calm her and she remembered thinking that it was all his fault.
As they drove home Mary experienced the varying emotions of sadness, depression and anger. She was angry with her body, with Ian, the doctors and even the proud mothers she saw pushing their prams down the street. She barely left the house for days, dreading bumping into anyone with a baby or small child in tow. Ian was kind and initially treated her with patience as if she was ill, but as the weeks passed his patience grew thin. It was at this point that Mary decided that adoption was the answer after all and rallied enough to pressurise Ian into agreeing with her.
They had been on the adoption waiting list for a year when they heard that they were now top of the list and that a baby was to be offered up for adoption within the next few weeks. Mary read the letter from the Children’s Service twice before she accepted that it was true and phoned Ian at work, something she did rarely, bursting out with excitement, ‘We’re going to have a baby!’ Ian’s pleasure had been more restrained but sufficiently real for him to arrive home earlier than usual, bearing a bunch of deep-red roses, a gesture normally reserved for her birthday.
The next few weeks dragged by for Mary, consumed by the anxiety that something would go wrong; that the pregnant mother would change her mind or the child, heaven forbid, be stillborn. They prepared the room that was to be the nursery but bought little in the way of clothes, furniture or equipment, not wanting to tempt fate.
Then it happened.
The phone call came one Saturday morning as Mary was preparing to leave for her grocery shop.
‘Mrs Le Clerq? Good morning, John Knight from the Children’s Service. I’m happy to tell you that the expectant mother gave birth to a healthy baby girl yesterday. We hope that you and your husband could collect her on Monday. Does that fit in with you? I know it’s short notice but…’
‘That would be perfect, Mr Knight. I’ve got to buy a few things first which I can do today. Oh, thank you so much! The. . .mother’s still agreeing to adoption?’ Mary’s heart was beating so fast she thought she’d burst.
‘Yes, she signed the preliminary forms today and will be leaving the hospital tomorrow. But you know nothing’s final for the next five months and we go to court for the adoption order.’
Mary arranged to be at the hospital with Ian on Monday morning. As she put the phone down he came into the hall and Mary threw her arms around him, saying, ‘We have a little girl and we’ve got to go out and buy everything she’ll need, now!’
***
‘Mum, are you all right? I’m sorry if I’ve given you a shock, the last thing I want is to upset you.’ Nicole chewed her lip as she gazed at her mother’s strained face.
Mary seemed to come back from wherever she’d been and smiled at Nicole.
‘I’m fine, darling. I was just remembering the first time I saw you. It was in the hospital and you were like a china doll. I was afraid you’d break if I dropped you. I’d never held such a small baby before and you just stared up at me with your big eyes as if to say “And who are you, then?” Didn’t she, Ian?’ Her mother turned to him and he nodded, reaching out for her hand.
Nicole was close to choking on the lump in her throat and gulped some wine. She’d never given any thought to how it must have been for her parents to be handed a tiny scrap and told it was theirs to take home and care for.
‘I guess it would have felt quite weird suddenly becoming parents without the usual nine months preparation.’
‘It was certainly scary! My mother offered me all sorts of advice, but as I was born just after the war things had changed rather a lot and, of course I was breast fed, no bottle feeding in those days! But I did have my trusty Dr Spock to guide me and my health visitor was wonderful. So we all survived.’
Nicole found it difficult to say anything, it being clear from her mother’s tight expression that she was trying hard to be brave. She took another sip of wine before continuing.
‘If I do find my … natural mother, it’s not going to stop me loving you both. After all, you’re the ones who raised me, educated me and gave me such a good start in life. You chose to be my parents and that’s something no-one else can take from you. I only want to find out how I became me and that’ll be easier if I can meet with the woman who…who gave birth to me. Then I’ll have the whole picture and not just the half of my upbringing.’ Nicole blew her nose as tears started in her eyes.
Her parents looked at each other before her mother patted Nicole’s arm.
‘It’s all right, Nicole. We do understand, it’s only natural that you want to trace your … your birth mother. Have you made any enquiries yet?’
Nicole shook her head.
‘No, I wanted to tell you both first. I know I can obtain a copy of my original birth certificate and I was planning to request it when I arrive in Jersey. Thought I’d go there after spending some time here with you.’ She twirled her wine glass, feeling reluctant to ask the all-important question. ‘Do…do you know anything about her, Mum?’
Her mother darted a look at her father, who nodded.
‘Not very much. As the islands have an inter-island adoption policy we knew the mother would be from Guernsey. We were told that she was an unmarried teacher who’d spent time in Jersey before giving birth.’
Nicole sat motionless, except for her hand swirling the wine around in her glass.
‘So, I’m actually a donkey and not a crapaud!’ She grinned at the islanders’ names for each other, trying to relieve the palpable tension.
‘Would that matter, darling?’
‘No, I guess not. Just means my search will take me to Guernsey as well as Jersey. At least I’m less likely to have already bumped into her. But it’s not as if she’s at the other side of the world. Though I guess she might have emigrated like so many islanders.’ She frowned. Oh no, it would be awful if she had to trek around the world in search of her mother. Please God, let her still be in Guernsey, she prayed.
‘So, that’s all you know?’
‘Yes, darling. I’m sorry, but I’m sure you’ll learn more in Jersey.’
Nicole nodded, disappointed.
Ian cleared his throat, saying briskly, ‘Well, we wish you all the best with your search, Nicole. Now, what would you like to do while you’re here? There’s a very good tennis club your mother has joined.’ It was clear her father wanted to draw the focus away from a subject he found painful.
‘Tennis sounds good, Dad. But only when it’s not too hot!’
‘How about early tomorrow morning? I can book a court and then we can show you around the town,’ her mother suggested, her face clearing, as if she too was happy to leave behind the spectre of Nicole’s search.
Her mother went off to book the tennis court and they spent the rest of the evening discussing the cruise. Nicole admired the many photos they’d taken, giving all her attention to her parents. She was touched by their solicitude, keen to make her as comfortable and welcome as possible. She caught herself wondering if it was their fear of losing her that had triggered off the unusual warmth now emanating from them. Or maybe soaking up the sun in this lovely country had allowed them to finally relax. She sighed. Whatever had wrought the change she was happy to accept it, looking forward to their time
together. Something she’d been ambivalent about until now. As long as no-one mentioned Tom or her search for her mother, all would be well.
chapter 4
Nicole enjoyed exploring Javea over the next few days, appreciating her parents’ love of the town. It wasn’t just the climate that was welcoming. The arenal offered not just a great beach but a fantastic choice of restaurants, shops and cafés to sample during the daily and evening promenades. At night the arenal pulsed with life, attracting both tourists and ex-pats from various countries, while whole Spanish families, from ninos to abuelos, arrived late in the restaurants, laughing and chatting volubly.
The old Town and port held their own fascination and ambience and Nicole became seduced. Sitting in a café on the arenal one morning with her parents, she realised how much she missed living by the sea, enjoying the special effect it had on everyone. The young Spanish workers looked animated and relaxed as they sat outside the cafés drinking and gesticulating, but always well behaved. Nicole thought back to nights out in Bristol which invariably entailed being the unwilling spectator not only to fights but young revellers vomiting into the gutter. Not a pretty sight. She grimaced at the memory. It was also obvious to her how much the Spanish respected their elders, always giving them pride of place in family outings. Something her parents’ generation lacked in the UK and would be much appreciated. She wasn’t too proud of her own record in this regard, acknowledging that she’d almost ignored her parents once she became involved in her new life in England.
As she gazed at them now, it struck her how much less stuffy they were. Her father, always so formal in his manner and dress, was now transformed in linen slacks and short sleeved shirt. His tan, against the deep blue shirt, made him look ten years younger. Her mother, in a strappy floral sundress and straw hat, glowed in a way unnoticed by Nicole until now. At that moment a couple of fellow Brits came up and spoke to her mother who smiled at them.
‘Ian, Nicole, let me introduce you to Sandy and Yvonne, fellow members of my drama group. Shall we squeeze up and make room for them?’
The newcomers settled into their seats, more coffees were ordered, with the talk soon focussing on the latest play being produced. Nicole watched with wonder as her mother emerged from her father’s shadow and took centre stage for once. Well, well, well, things are looking good. Mum’s come out of that shell of hers at last. Good, and about time too!
While Nicole was a child her mother had not seemed keen on socialising; she remembered times when her father suggested her mother accompany him to a particular function and she would demur, pleading tiredness or lack of a babysitter.
Holidays had been infrequent and not entirely happy occasions, at least not for Nicole. There were no foreign beach holidays as, after all, they lived on an island contoured with golden sands. Instead they’d skied each winter in the French Alps, sharing a chalet with childless friends of her father’s. In the summer they went driving through France, sometimes as far as northern Spain. The trips tended to be more cultural than fun for a child. Nicole felt alone, missing the companionship of children her own age, always glad to return home to meet up with her friends.
Chewing her lips, she thought back to her childhood. It was a shock to realise she’d been happiest when with her school friends, like Susie, than with her parents. Life at home had been subdued, more talk than play. Her mother had done her best to play games with her, but she’d been awkward, as if unsure how to relax and be childlike. And her father! Well, he hadn’t even tried, just patted her on the head in passing. They’d been generous with money but not with their time; she’d felt alone in their adult world. It struck Nicole that she may have quashed her innate extrovert nature in order to fit into the family “mould”. Her real personality only surfaced when she went to university and learnt to let her hair down. So, perhaps her real mother or father were more like her? It would be good to find out!
As she looked at her mother now, Nicole saw that she had at last found her rightful place in the world. No longer the “Advocate’s Wife”, but another ex-pat keen to embrace a new life, choosing her own persona. Nicole frowned. Perhaps she needed to be some place new where she was free to choose a new identity, sloughing off her old skin like that of a snake. Time to let go of the old. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the trappings of success, she did. But she also wanted to dig beneath the surface, just as she’d done when she’d first become a reporter at the radio station. She knew there was something vital missing in her life but didn’t know what it was. Sighing, she wondered if she’d find it if, and when, she found her birth mother. Nicole didn’t want to be like Mary, not finding out what made her happy until she retired. No, she wanted to find out now!
It had not been difficult for her parents to persuade Nicole to stay two weeks with them, the slower pace of life and the user-friendly climate were sufficiently enticing. She couldn’t remember when she’d last been so relaxed and felt sad on her last evening. They were going out for a meal in their favourite restaurant in the port in celebration.
As she was standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, brushing her short bob into place, her mother appeared in the doorway.
‘All right to come in, Nicole?’ Her mother hovered, as if uncertain of her reception.
‘Of course.’ Nicole swung round, giving her a warm smile.
‘Just wanted to say how much we’ve enjoyed having you to stay, darling. It’s been ages since we’ve spent so long together, just the three of us.’
‘Well, I’ve enjoyed being here and I’m very envious of your new life, Mum. And it certainly seems to suit you both.’
‘Yes, it does. And I’ve made more friends here than in Jersey. But family’s much more important so I hope it won’t be long before you come back.’ Her mother’s smile looked strained.
Nicole threw down her brush and hugged her.
‘Course I’ll be back, as soon as I can. What girl could resist a free holiday in the sun, with all mod cons included?’ She grinned at her mother who kissed her lightly on the cheek.
‘If it’s only cupboard love that’ll bring you back…!’
They both smiled but Nicole noticed that the smile didn’t quite reach Mary’s eyes.
The next morning her parents drove Nicole to Alicante airport and as they said goodbye before security, she received a warm hug from her father.
‘Take care of yourself, now,’ his voice gruff as he released her.
‘Will do, Dad. See you soon,’ she smiled. Mm, the old boy’s softening up a bit.
After another hug from her mother Nicole joined the queue, offering a quick final wave to her parents. She sensed the thinly disguised concern behind the smiles and waves and felt sad that her quest, although natural, was the cause of pain to her parents. She knew no matter what transpired in her search for her birth mother, that she would still love them and acknowledge their hard work in her upbringing. But even as she was settling into her seat ready for take-off, Nicole pictured her mother’s tearful face as they had said goodbye. She wondered if her mother was not so much upset with her leaving as with the possibility that she might find another mother to love more…
By late that afternoon a somewhat tired and travel stained Nicole was on another plane coming into land in Jersey. From her vantage point in a window seat she could make out the familiar outline of what had been, for many years, her home. The sight evoked mixed feelings. The leap in her stomach was the feeling she associated with safety – coming home. Although now, strictly speaking, it wasn’t her home any more, she still had a sense of belonging, of self. Nicole realised with a jolt that this was the first time she’d returned to Jersey when her parents were absent. Mm, this was going to be odd. Fear and trepidation lurked beneath the surface.
She took a deep breath as the plane taxied to a stop. Nicole knew that not so far away, in an office in St Helier, lay a file that held her secret. Within the next few days or weeks she might be granted access to
that file and for the first time since she had embarked on this journey she was afraid. Afraid of what she might learn – not only concerning her real mother, but about herself.
chapter 5
Prior to leaving Spain Nicole arranged an appointment with the children’s service in Jersey for the day after her return. As she woke that morning it was all she could think about. It wasn’t as if she’d learn anything that day; the helpful lady on the phone had warned her it might take a few weeks. But it was the first, fateful step.
She picked up the phone.
‘Susie! Hi, it’s me.’
‘Hiya! Are you here?’
‘Yep, got in yesterday evening and was so bushed had an early night. Are you free for a coffee this morning? Sans enfants?’
Susie giggled. ‘Yes, I’ve got some “me” time today, thank goodness. Paul’s at school till three and Bettany’s at nursery today. Shall we say ten thirty, usual place?’
‘Great. Can’t wait. Bye.’
By ten Nicole was out of the door, striding towards the main shopping area of St Helier, a short walk from the apartment. Its central position was a deciding factor when her parents sought their pied à terre. The bright and airy apartment also possessed two bedrooms, giving Nicole her own space. She had been touched when her mother had said, ‘We want you to know that you can come and stay whenever you want. Even if we’re not here.’
At the time she was still with Tom and rarely visited Jersey, but now she envisaged coming over more often. A great chance to catch up with friends like Susie.
