by Wendy Clarke
She stared at it, the words blurring as tears filled her eyes.
Colin was looking worried. ‘Are you okay?’
Determined to be brave, Ria nodded. Maybe if she said the name out loud, it would become real.
She looked at Colin, her throat tightening as she spoke the words.
‘Leona,’ she whispered. ‘My name is Leona Travis.’
Thirty-Four
Leona
There, I’ve said it. Said the name of the person I’ve been for the last twelve years.
‘Am I going mad, do you think?’
Lisa shakes her head. ‘No, I don’t think that. Coping with a difficult situation isn’t a form of insanity.’
‘But the way I’ve talked about myself… about Ria.’ Even now, I can’t bring myself to say the words that will turn us into that same person.
Getting up, Lisa walks to the bookshelf on the wall. She takes out a thick hardback with a shiny cover, and a slimmer paperback. She shows them to me and then, putting them back, drags her fingers along the spines of others.
‘Dissociation is covered in all of these manuals, Leona. It’s a common problem for someone changing their identity as there is often no emotional connection to their new name. How was the name chosen?’
I tell her how Colin thought that by using a version of Leo’s name, it would be easier for me to remember. I liked it because it made me feel closer to her. She was, after all, the only friend I had. During the darkest times, she’d never forgotten me and, if it wasn’t for her, I would probably not be here now. Leo wasn’t her real name. It was Marie.
I miss her. The fun we shared, in those early years when we were students, and the mane of blonde hair that gave her her nickname. I wonder what she’s doing now.
My cheeks are wet with tears I haven’t realised I’ve shed and Lisa reaches forward and takes my hand. I don’t know whether her code of conduct allows her to, but the gesture is warm, caring, and I’m grateful to Colin for the telephone number he gave me all those years ago. It’s for if you want to talk to a counsellor, Ria. Sometimes people on the scheme find it hard to adjust. Just call and they’ll do their best to fit you in. I thought I’d be able to manage without it, but I was wrong. Lisa is young, new to this job probably, but I like her.
‘You’ve done really well, Leona,’ she says now. ‘It can’t have been easy for you to relive it all, but it proves how strong you are. But…’
‘What?’ I snap.
‘The manuals I showed you describe how dissociation techniques are used when trying to come to terms with a traumatic situation, but I’d like to know why you think you’ve separated yourself from Ria? Convinced yourself she’s so far in your past that she wasn’t ever really you at all?’
Without warning, the past rears up, catching me unawares. The lies I’ve told; the things I’ve done that only Gareth knows about. Someone once said that our memories define us. I wonder if they are right.
I decide to stick to a half truth. ‘I thought that if I removed myself from my former self, the past wouldn’t be able to hurt me.’ I pinch my eyes, between finger and thumb, to try to push back the pictures that continue to form. How could I have been so wrong?
‘That’s understandable. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about, Leona, before we close this session? We’ve spoken about a lot today, and perhaps you need a break?’
There’s so much I could say, but the words that come out of my mouth are not the ones either of us have been expecting.
‘I’m pregnant.’
Thirty-Five
Leona
A week’s gone by and I still haven’t told Scott about the pregnancy. He’d be so happy – so caught up in plans for the future. I imagine him wrapping his big arms around me. Hear the tenderness in his voice as he tells me he will love our baby. Cherish it. With just these few words, we will be turned into the proper family he’s always wanted us to be. Him, me and Beth… and a tiny bundle to bind us all together. In her turn, Beth will grin at me and then at the man she’s adored from the moment she met him. The only father she’s ever really known.
But the more I think about it, the more I realise I can’t go through with it. How can it be fair to let Scott believe that everything will be all right when he doesn’t even know that our life together, up until now, has been a lie? That the Leona he thinks he knows is just a phantom created by others. No more substantial than a character in a novel.
That’s not all, though. How can I bring another child into the world after everything that’s happened? After everything I’ve done? Not just what I did to Gareth, or the fact that I allowed a monster to father my child… but the other terrible secret I’ve never told.
As if in answer, a flutter, like the tiny wings of a moth, makes my hand stray to my stomach. I remember the feeling so well – even though it’s many years since I’ve been pregnant. Soon I will be showing, and I know I will have to make a decision before that happens.
The brooch I am creating in my studio is a love knot: the fine silver strands twisting together like the entwined fingers of two lovers. While I was making it, I had been thinking of Scott. Thinking how devastated I would be if ever our own fingers were to separate – how quickly I would fall apart.
I know that this baby that is growing inside me, although created out of love, will change everything. The fear I feel is immeasurable.
It’s warm today and the workroom is stuffy despite the fanlights I’ve opened. Wanting a cool drink, I go back into the house. I’ve just poured myself some elderflower cordial, when the doorbell rings. Putting my glass on the counter, I go and open the door. I had expected it to be the postman, or someone collecting an order, but it’s not. The person who stands on the doorstep, beside the muddy walking boots, is someone I haven’t seen for a long time. Someone I hoped would never need to see me again.
‘Leona. How are you?’ Colin smiles at me, but his eyes are serious. He looks much the same as when I last saw him, but a little greyer, and his eyes have a few more lines around them. In the early days, I had seen him a lot, but as time moved on and I became more self-sufficient, the contact became less frequent until it dwindled to the occasional welfare check. I still had the mobile phone he’d given me, and an emergency contact number, but I’d never had to use it.
‘Colin.’ It takes a moment to get over the shock of seeing him. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘What about?’
He looks across to the cottage next door. ‘Not on the doorstep, Leona. Can I come in?’
‘Of course.’
I step aside and, as he walks past me, I see him taking in the little sitting room with its stone walls and the things I have accumulated over the last few years: the cushions, the ornaments, the pictures fighting for space on the walls. It makes me wonder whether he ever saw the inside of my house in South Kensington. And, if he did, whether he is comparing its clinical tastefulness with this little house and its hotchpotch of things that I’ve collected to help me leave that all behind.
Before shutting the door, I step outside to make sure that nobody has seen him. Luckily, the holidaymakers, who are renting the other cottages in the row, are either inside or have gone out for the day. I can tell by the lack of cars in the shared parking spaces by the road.
‘You’re lucky Scott’s not here.’ What would we have told him if he had been? What lies would we have concocted together?
‘It wasn’t luck.’ Despite the morning being warm, he’s wearing a jacket. Taking it off, he lays it over the back of the settee. The action is so familiar that, for a moment, I am transported back to the hotel room with its view of the roundabout and the retail park.
‘It wasn’t?’
‘No. I waited until he left and then waited some more to make sure that he didn’t come back again. That he hadn’t just popped out to get a loaf of bread or something. Scott looks nice, Leona.’
I don’t answer h
im, fearing that if we speak of Scott, he might become tainted by my past. I don’t tell Colin how he wants to marry me. How he’d like us to have a child of our own.
Colin sits down on one of the chairs by the fireplace, but I remain standing, my hands on my hips. The last time I’d had communication with him was when he’d phoned me a couple of months ago to say that Gareth had applied to the parole board for a hearing. He’d thought it unlikely that the petition would be successful but, just in case, he’d wanted me to write a statement on my views on his release, which would be taken into account at the hearing.
‘What is it you want, Colin? Has something happened? Have you heard something about Gareth?’ I try to think of all the things it could be and none of them are things I want to hear.
‘In a way, yes. I thought you should know that Gareth’s parole hearing is going to be in two days’ time.’
Although I know this has been coming, the thought fills me with dread. I’m about to ask more, but Colin is leaning forward, his fingers laced together and his expression serious.
‘It’s not just that. There’s something else I thought you should know. We like to keep an eye on the families of those under our protection and someone popped round to see your father. It’s your mother I’ve come to talk to you about.’
‘What about her?’ The thought of my mother brings me close to tears. I see her dancing blue eyes, her bottle-blonde hair, so similar in colour to mine now, and hear her laugh. It’s been twelve years since I’ve seen her and every day I miss her more.
I sink down next to him, my legs weak. Willing him not to say the words I’m dreading. ‘She’s not dead. Please don’t tell me that.’
‘No, she’s not dead, Leona.’ He takes my hand. Something that he’s never done before. ‘But it’s not good. Your mother has what we now know is a form of Alzheimer’s. It’s progressed quite rapidly and…’ He breaks off and I sense it’s because he’s trying to think of the best way to tell me.
‘How long has she had it?’
‘Your father said he first noticed things weren’t right a year or so ago. Your mother started to become more forgetful. Leaving her keys in the washing machine and forgetting people’s names. Things like that.’
‘But everyone does that. It doesn’t mean…’
‘She also got lost – only a few roads from her house. Roads she should know like the back of her hand. She went to hospital, Leona. The diagnosis was conclusive.’
I feel the tears begin to fall, hot on my cheeks. ‘But what if they’ve made a mistake?’
‘They haven’t. I’m sorry.’ He drops my hand and clears his throat. ‘She’s had tests.’
Colin looks away. I see his attention taken by the collection of photographs on the stairs. Although he tries to hide it, his face signals his disapproval: photos are discouraged in case, by chance, someone should recognise an individual from their previous life. A life they were never supposed to have. When Beth asks why we have no photos of her as a baby, or a young child, I tell her that they were all lost in a fire which swept through our home while we were out one day. It’s a story I’ve used many times to explain why we have moved, why we have nothing from our past. I say I moved away to escape the memories. In a way, it’s true.
‘Don’t worry. There are no photos of my parents, just ones I’ve taken since we’ve moved here – Scott and Beth mostly. That’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘It would be better if you didn’t have them. Even recent ones. If someone gets a tip-off and comes looking…’ He stops, obviously not wanting to frighten me. ‘Not that they are going to. It’s just a precaution we like everyone to take.’
I don’t like him talking like this. I’ve always felt safe here in my little miner’s cottage, surrounded by the protective arms of the Cumbrian peaks. I change the subject.
‘My dad? What about him?’
Colin shifts in his chair. He looks uncomfortable. ‘Your father managed to begin with, but recently he’s been struggling. At times, your mum can become agitated, unsure of where she is and what’s going on, and it’s hard for him to deal with. It’s been decided that it would be better if she went somewhere where she can be properly cared for. Your dad has done his best, but there is only so much he can do.’
‘You mean they are going to put her in a home?’
‘It’s already happened, I’m afraid.’
The thought is shocking. Unthinkable. ‘She’s only sixty-five, for Christ’s sake. I need to see her.’ I stand up, looking around wildly – trying to think of what I need to take and what I can say to Scott and Beth. As far as they know, my parents were killed in a car accident when I was young and I was brought up by an elderly aunt from whom I’m now estranged.
Colin puts out a hand as if to try to stop me. ‘You can’t see her, Leona. You know that. I only told you because I thought you should know.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. ‘She’s my mum, Colin.’
He looks at me and I know what he’s going to say. ‘Since you went into Witness Protection, you’ve been offered the chance to visit your parents in a neutral place, but you’ve always refused.’
I close my eyes and draw in a breath. ‘You know why that was, Colin. You said yourself that the meetings would have an element of risk, even though your officers would have carefully arranged everything and would be watching. For myself, I don’t care, but I could never play Russian roulette with Beth’s safety. Now it’s different. In one month… two months… Mum might not even recognise me. I have to go now, before it’s too late.’
Colin frowns. ‘I could try to organise something. See if it’s possible for your mother to be taken somewhere else for you to meet her. But you have to see that, as things stand, the whole business will be unsettling for her and the arrangements will take time.’
‘I need to see her now.’
Colin stands and turns me to look at him. ‘It’s not possible.’ I hear the intake of breath that signals he has more to say. ‘I hate saying this, but if you go to London, or try to contact your parents in any way without proper consultation, we will be forced to move you again.’
I stare at him, wide-eyed, knowing from his tone that he means it. ‘I can’t move. My life is here in Church Langdon with Scott.’
Releasing my shoulders, he picks up his coat from the back of the settee. ‘Then you will understand why it has to be like this. It was all clear in the contract when you signed it.’
‘But she’s ill, Colin.’
‘It’s how it is, Leona. You knew that from the start.’ His words are firm, but I see the sympathy in his eyes. If he could make it any different, he would – but of course he can’t.
I feel the flutter again. My mum would have felt my tiny movements in the same way. She would have placed a hand to her stomach and smiled, never dreaming that she would give birth to a baby who would one day desert her. One who, at twenty-five, she would never see again.
How different it would have been if I hadn’t met Gareth. If I hadn’t done the things I did. I would be there for her now, and for my dad. But, of course, if I could go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t now have Beth... or Scott. They are the two good things to have come out of all this.
Colin tells me he will keep in touch and then he leaves. I stand at the window and watch his car drive away and, when I’m sure he’s gone, I climb the stairs. It doesn’t take me long to push aside the bags and shoes on the wardrobe floor and raise the loose floorboard. Lifting out the envelope, I lift the flap and take out the photographs. From the glossy paper, Ria’s vivid blue eyes look back at me accusingly. The second photograph is one of my mother and father. Dad sits on his motorbike and, beside him, my mum stands proudly, me in her arms. The final photograph I can barely look at. The baby is swaddled in a blue cellular blanket, bright eyes staring from the folds.
Sinking my head into my hands, I cry as if my heart might break. I’m mourning for my parents and the little life that barely beg
an. But, most of all, I am mourning for Ria.
Putting the pictures back, I hold the envelope to my chest.
I know what I must do.
Thirty-Six
Beth
‘I still can’t believe you’re going to London.’
A week had gone by since the bathroom incident, and things had gone back to normal, enabling Beth to believe she might possibly have imagined the sobbing she’d heard. But now there was this. Since the night before, when her mum had told her, she’d been trying to process the information. Her mum having an overnight stay anywhere was as unlikely as Beth passing her science exam. What had prompted this change of heart?
‘It’s only for a couple of days.’ Her mum glanced in the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘I’m just lucky someone dropped out of the jewellery-making workshop. I’ve wanted to go on it for ages.’
‘You never said.’
She didn’t comment, just picked up her keys and phone from the table and put them in her shoulder bag. ‘I know it’s short notice, but I’m sure you and your dad can manage without me.’
Beth watched as her mum checked the zip on her weekend case. ‘Of course we can. It’s just that…’
She stopped, not knowing how to put it into words. What she wanted to say was that she knew her mum hated travelling, that a shopping trip to Ambleside or Windermere was as far as she ever went, but if she said these things, she’d just sound stupid – as though she didn’t want her to go. Although the truth was, she didn’t. It would be the first time in her life they’d been apart and she didn’t like the thought of it.
‘What does Dad think?’
Her mum’s back was to her and she couldn’t see her expression.
‘He thinks it’s great. He’s driving me to the station.’
