by Wendy Clarke
Not knowing how I’ll bear it if she still doesn’t know me, I place the photograph in her hands. ‘Do you recognise this person, Mum?’
When she doesn’t answer, I think my world is going to fall apart, and then I notice she isn’t wearing her reading glasses. Holding her hand in mine, I move the photo closer to her. She looks at it and I watch her face, desperate for any sign that will tell me she knows who it is who stares out at her. There is none. Instead, she turns to the door. ‘Is it lunch, yet? Is Brian coming?’
I won’t let her be distracted. ‘The girl in the photograph. It’s Ria, Mum.’ She must know her. She has to. ‘Look again. Please say you remember.’
Outside the window a lorry rumbles by, the glass rattling slightly as it passes. Mum looks up and it’s as if she’s seeing me for the first time. She takes her hand away from mine, letting the photograph fall onto the bedspread.
‘Ria, you say? I once had a daughter called Ria.’ Raising her hands, she places one each side of my face. Her eyes rove across it. ‘Where did she go?’
‘She didn’t go anywhere, Mum. She lives far away in the Lake District, but she thinks of you every day and she loves you even when she isn’t with you.’
Reaching into my bag again, I take out a little blue box with Leona Designs written on the top in silver. I open it and lift the silver heart necklace from its cushioned pad. ‘I made this for you, Mum. Ria made this for you.’
As I lift her hair and fasten it around her neck, tears spill down my face and I feel Mum wipe them away with her thumbs.
‘Don’t cry, love. We’ll find her for you. The Lake District, you say? My Brian will know where to look. He used to holiday there when he was a boy. We’ll ask him when he gets here, shall we?’
As she speaks, a shiver of uncertainty runs through me. Have I said too much? But then I look at my mum and see that the veil of confusion has fallen over her eyes again. By tomorrow, this conversation will be as if it never happened.
Not wanting to distress her, I turn away, gulping back the sobs – relieved when there’s a knock at the door. The young nurse pokes her head round, a smile on her face.
‘Lunch is ready, Pam.’
When she sees my tear-stained face, her smile drops and her brows pull together. ‘Are you all right, Nicky?’
Getting a tissue from my pocket, I dab at my eyes. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Really. Please don’t worry.’
‘If you’re sure.’ She doesn’t look convinced. ‘You can come downstairs to the dining room with us if you like. I’m sure we can rustle up some lunch for you too.’
I dearly want to – would do anything to spend more time with Mum – but I know I can’t. Coming here today was dangerous for all of us and I daren’t think what Colin would say if he found out.
‘I’m sorry, but I have to go now.’
The young nurse smiles. ‘You must come again. Our residents do so love having visitors, especially family. Some have no one at all. Hard to believe, isn’t it?’
I turn away. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘Well, it’s been nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll be on shift next time you come.’
‘Maybe.’ But I know she won’t be. No one will – for this is the one and only time I will be visiting. The last time I’ll ever see Mum. The thought is crippling. Reaching out to her, I fold her into my arms, pressing my cheek to hers.
‘It doesn’t matter who I am, Mum,’ I whisper in her ear, my tears wetting the soft hair at her temple, ‘as long as you know that I love you. That I’ve always loved you.’
It’s almost impossible to tear myself away, but I know I have to. The young nurse is closing the window; her back is to me. Taking the note to Leo from my pocket, I place it on the bedside table, then, with a kiss on Mum’s cheek, I walk out of the room, closing the door behind me. Without looking back, I make for the lift and, once I’m there, jab at the button on the wall as though it might make it arrive faster. Scared that if I turn, I’ll see Mum walking down the corridor with shuffling steps, leaning on the young nurse’s arm for support. I’m desperate to be out of here. Out of London and back home with Scott and Beth.
Stepping onto the street, my anxiety rises. What if someone knows I’ve been here? What if Gareth has found someone to watch the nursing home? With a jolt, I remember that yesterday was Gareth’s parole hearing; I’d been so worried about my mum, I’d pushed this knowledge away. But now his face looms menacingly in the forefront of my mind and I can’t get rid of it. Wanting to get away from the place as quickly as possible, I start to run. I’ll go back to the hotel to pick up my things, then to the nearest tube. My train from Euston is at one thirty and I don’t want to miss it.
I don’t notice the blue Fiesta that’s parked in the street between two others – it’s so ordinary, why would I? It’s only as I walk past and the driver’s door flies open that I turn towards it. A hand grabs my arm, pulling me off balance. I’m so startled, I have no time to react.
‘Get in.’
As the fingers tighten on my wrist, my mind goes into overdrive. Wild with panic, I try to wrench my arm away, but he’s stronger than me. I kick out, the toe of my shoe making contact with his shin.
‘Fuck!’
Letting go of my arm, the man reaches down to rub at his leg and it’s only then I realise who it is. I’m weak with relief. ‘Colin. Oh, God, I’m sorry.’
His face is serious. ‘Shut up and get in the car, Leona. Anyone could have seen you.’
‘I don’t want to. Leave me alone. No one knows I’m here.’ I look down the road. It’s a residential street, but there aren’t many people around.
‘You can’t know that for sure.’
Taking hold of my arm again, he walks me round to the passenger side of the car and, placing a hand on my head, pushes me in. It brings back memories of that night. The blue flashing lights of the police car as Gareth is bundled in. The gentle pressure of the paramedic’s fingers as they move my head to see the damage my husband has done to my face and neck. Lily’s eyes as Abbie leads her next door to a house where violence is something that’s only ever seen on television.
I hate Colin for doing this to me. For making me remember.
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘I needed to get in contact with you again and found you weren’t in Church Langdon. After I saw you the other day and told you about your mother, some instinct made me guess you wouldn’t leave it there and it just took a phone call to the care home to realise that my instincts had been correct. When they said your mother’s niece was visiting today, it wasn’t difficult to put two and two together.’ He thumps his fist on the steering wheel, making me jump. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’
I’ve never heard him angry before. A part of me wants to curl up into a ball. Disappear.
‘I’m sorry.’ My voice is a whisper. ‘I just wanted to see her. One last time.’
Colin looks at me and his expression changes. He knows what he’s done. The effect his outburst has had on me. ‘No, it’s me who should be sorry, Leona. Of course, you wanted to see her.’
He looks away, his knuckles whitening as he grips the steering wheel, and I see the effort it takes to keep his voice level. ‘Did you notice anyone hanging around? Try to remember. It’s important.’
He’s scaring me now and I glance back at the red-bricked building. ‘No… No, I didn’t.’
Starting the engine, Colin manoeuvres the car from its parking space and pulls out onto the road. He stares straight in front of him. ‘I’ll take you to wherever you’re staying to get your things, then I’ll drive you back home.’
I look at him. ‘But I’ve got a ticket for the train.’
‘I don’t care.’ He’s not angry now, just sad. When he speaks, it’s almost to himself. ‘Christ. How could you be so stupid?’
Tears start in my eyes. ‘I didn’t think. I just missed my mum.’
‘I understand that – of course I do. I’m not a cold-hearted b
astard. But for twelve years we’ve kept you safe, Leona. You and Beth. It could all be undone…’ He clicks his fingers. ‘Just like that.’
‘But it was all so long ago. Do you think Gareth will ever forgive me?’
Colin glances at me, puzzled. ‘You make it sound as though it was you who did something wrong. Self-defence, when you fear for your life, is not a crime, Leona. Your statement helped to put a violent man behind bars and he’s paid the price. It’s what the judge and jury thought and it’s what you must believe too. There’s nothing for Gareth to forgive, but even if there was, there’s not much chance he would. He’s a psychopath, Leona. Forgiveness requires a conscience in both forgiver and the forgiven. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s spent his time banged up scheming how to—’
He stops, mortification written across his face, and tries to change the subject, but the damage has been done.
A chill runs down my spine. ‘You don’t think I’m safe, do you.’ It’s a statement rather than a question.
We’re onto a busier road now, filled with buses and taxis. It won’t be long before we get to my hotel. He’s quiet at first and I wonder if he’s going to say anything, but when, eventually, he does, the words are the ones I’ve been dreading.
‘I’ve never felt you were truly safe, Leona.’
Thirty-Eight
Beth
‘I thought you were busy today?’
Beth leant back against the cairn, feeling the warmth of the stone soak through her T-shirt. The afternoon light was golden, bathing everything in an apricot glow. ‘I was, but then I changed my mind.’
David pulled a face. ‘I see. Second place, am I? Oh, well. I suppose I’d better get used to it.’
Beth sighed and stretched out her legs in front of her, feeling the prickle of the scrubby grass on the back of her calves. What did he care? By the end of the month he’d be gone.
‘It’s like a sponge,’ she said, half closing her eyes and letting the colours merge.
‘What is?’
‘The landscape. It’s so drenched in sunshine, it looks like it’s soaked it up.’
‘It does… and so does your skin.’ David ran a fingertip over her shoulder, where a crop of freckles bloomed, then kissed it, his lips warm against her flesh. ‘You’re right, though. We’ve had good weather so far. Let’s hope it lasts. Mind you, I’m not sure about those clouds that are gathering over the pikes. It might not be so nice later this afternoon.’
Beth followed his gaze. ‘Dad didn’t mention anything about rain being forecast. He’s out this way too, today.’
‘Well, that’s the Lake District for you – sunny one minute, pissing down the next. So, you’re not worried our paths will cross then?’
‘No. He said he was taking the party along Kennets Crag towards New Langdon Ghyll. It’s a circular walk and, by the time they come back this way, I’ll be back home with my feet up.’
‘If you say so.’ He nodded to her bag. ‘Not sketching today?’
Beth leant back against him, trying to commit the feel of his body to memory. ‘Sometimes I just like to listen and watch. The things I see often stay with me and I might sketch them out later.’
‘Blimey. Who needs a camera when they’ve got you?’
As he spoke, a woodpecker began its rhythmic tapping in the woodland that clothed the lower slopes. Faint but unmistakeable.
‘Do you think he’s knocking on heaven’s door?’ David lifted a strand of her dark hair and twisted it around his finger.
‘I don’t think so. Anyway, I thought you didn’t believe in heaven… or God.’
‘I don’t, but I like the song.’
Not wanting to admit she’d never heard of it, Beth tipped back her head and looked at the sky. ‘If I lie here long enough, I’m hoping I might see one of the falcons.’
David laughed. ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… you’re more than a little obsessed! Those birds you draw – you capture their strength and independence in a way I’ve only seen before in a photograph. Whatever medium you use, the essence of the bird is always there. I don’t know how you do it.’
The unexpected praise made her warm inside. ‘Thank you. But what about you? Did you always want to be a photographer?’
David stretched over to his rucksack. ‘No, of course not. When I was six, I wanted to be a fireman and by the time I reached the grand old age of eight, it was an astronaut. What about you?’
Beth shook her head. ‘I never wanted to be an astronaut.’
He poked her in the ribs. ‘Smart arse. You know what I mean.’ Unzipping his bag, he took out his camera. ‘I’ve been interested in photography since I was a boy. I thought it might be the same with you and your drawing.’
‘I suppose so. Art is the only thing I’ve ever been good at. I can’t imagine doing anything else. I just wish I didn’t have to go to school to learn how to do it.’
‘School?’ David looked at her, his head on one side.
‘College,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve said it for so many years, it’s hard to break the habit.’
She bit the inside of her lip. She’d almost given it away and if he knew she was only fifteen, he’d ditch her like a shot. Why wouldn’t he? It was easier not to think about what he’d say if he found out, because her life, with David in it, was a better one by far.
‘And you. Where do you think you got your talent for photography?’
David put down his camera. ‘That’s easy. It was from my father.’
‘Your father?’ She remembered what he’d told her that night at the campsite. He’d never mentioned his father since.
‘Yes. Though he isn’t worthy of that name. Buying me my first camera was the only decent thing he ever did.’
‘Was he really that bad?’
David nodded. ‘Worse. One night, he pushed me too far. He’d forgotten that I wasn’t a little boy any more… that I was seventeen and almost as big as him. He came home drunk from the pub and started giving my mum a hard time.’
‘What did you do?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s just say, he never laid a finger on her again. Not while I was living there, anyway.’
He was silent for a moment, his forehead creased. Beth put her hand on his arm. ‘What is it, David?’
‘I can’t tell you. If I do, it will change the way you look at me. The way you feel about me.’
‘It won’t. I promise you. You can tell me anything.’
He looked out at the pikes, their crags rugged against the blue. ‘After what had happened with my dad, I went off the rails for a bit and ended up in the nick – just for a short while. I look back on that time now and think, what an idiot. So many opportunities lost…’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing,’ he said quickly. ‘Just that it nearly broke my mum’s heart.’
Beth looked away, trying to process her thoughts. She waited for disgust and unease to wash over her, but it didn’t. Instead, she felt only sadness for the boy who’d had to put up with so much.
‘Was it awful? Being in prison, I mean.’ She’d seen on TV the dreadful things that could happen to a young boy in there.
David nodded. ‘Pretty much. I was eighteen by then – only missed juvie by a couple of months. Adult prison was terrifying. My saving grace, the only thing that kept me sane while I was there, was that I was taken under the wing of one of the guys who was serving a much longer sentence. Said I reminded him of himself at that age. He had quite a lot of clout in there and, because of that, nobody bothered me.’
‘What happened to your dad?’ Beth ran her fingers down the soft hairs of David’s arm.
‘By the time I came out, everything had changed. Dad was ill and it looked like he wouldn’t get better. He was in no state to take anything out on Mum, not physically anyway, and when he eventually went into hospital, he wanted me to go and see him. It might be that he wanted my forgiveness, but I doubt it.’
‘Did
you go?’
‘No.’ David stood up and lifted his camera strap over his neck. ‘I never did.’
‘I have a secret too.’ Beth hadn’t meant to say it, but what harm could it do?
‘A secret?’
‘Well, more like a discovery. Mum’s been acting weirdly recently. She has these episodes… anxiety attacks. But it’s not just that… There’s something else too.’ She reached into her pocket for her phone and went onto her photos. When she found what she was looking for, she handed it to David.
‘What’s this?’
‘They’re birth certificates.’
David zoomed in on the picture. ‘I can see that, but why are you showing them to me?’
‘I found them hidden under the floorboards in Mum’s fitted wardrobe. I don’t know whose they are or why she’s hidden them. There were photos too.’ She swiped back to where they were and showed him.
‘Is that you?’
‘I thought that at first, but it’s not.’
‘There’s definitely a resemblance – and who are these people? Your grandparents?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen my grandparents. They died in a car accident when my mum was young.’
David handed her back the phone. ‘I’m not sure what to say. You’re right, it is strange. One thing I do know is secrets are never a good thing in a family.’
Holding out his hand to her, he pulled her up, then pointed skywards. While they’d been talking, the clouds they’d seen earlier had moved away from the peaks and had taken over most of the blue. It was surprising how quickly it had happened. The rolling fells, which had recently been a vivid green, were now ocean dark. As the clouds moved, an occasional glint of sunshine brought the landscape back to life before drowning it in shadows once more.
‘This is perfect.’ David walked to the other side of the cairn and stood in contemplation, his hands in his pockets.
