Storm Rising

by Rachael Richey

  “What is it, Gid?” she asked apprehensively.

  “Listen to this. Natasha didn’t settle in the foster home at all well, and after a few weeks she was returned to us. We feel she may not be suitable for fostering after all, and on your next visit maybe we can discuss some other options.” He put down the letter, and they stared at each other.

  “She visited her?” asked Abi in little more than a whisper. “My mother visited my daughter? It says, ‘your next visit’? Gideon, she must have visited a lot. This is totally unbelievable.” She picked up the rest of the letters. “Quick, we need to see if there are any more. They said discuss other options. D’you think that means adoption?” She turned terrified eyes on Gideon. “If she’s been adopted, we can never get her back!”

  Gideon was reading another letter.

  “Abs, listen to this.” he licked his lips and began to read. “Since you haven’t visited in a while, I thought I should write to say Natasha has been asking for you. If you’re not going to come again, I think it would be better if she knew this, rather than her continually wait for your arrival. Once again, I would urge that you try to get your daughter to sign the papers giving permission for her to be adopted. We feel this would be in Natasha’s best interests.”

  “Natasha had been asking for her!” Abi almost shouted the words in her disbelief. “My daughter liked my mother?”

  Gideon was continuing to read, a frown on his face.

  “That was dated earlier this year, back in June. Abi, I think she’s still there. But why did your mother stop visiting?”

  “She was ill. For months before she died. I doubt she could have visited anyone much in the last year, actually. Dad told me. She knew she was dying.” She looked at Gideon, a mixture of hope and despair in her eyes. “D’you really think she’s still there? Maybe my mother signed the adoption papers when she knew she was dying. Keep looking…” She reached out and picked up more papers.

  None of them shed any more light until Gideon opened the final one.

  “This is odd,” he said with a frown. “Listen. Dear Mrs. Thomson, I’m sorry to hear of your illness, but nonetheless your request is extremely irregular. Under the circumstances the trustees have instructed we concur, but the situation will need to be reviewed after a year. That’s dated July of this year. What d’you think it means?”

  “It probably means we have got until July of next year to get our daughter back,” said Abi, getting to her feet. “What shall we do?”

  Gideon stared at her. “This is all too fantastic,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s beyond belief. Why would she…” He broke off as he noticed the envelope addressed to Abi that they’d found earlier. It remained unopened. He held it out to her.

  “Here, read this. Maybe she tells you why.”

  Abi took the letter and ripped it open.

  “Dear Abigail,” she read. “I know you hate me already, and by now you’ll know what really happened in January ’96 and will hate me even more. I don’t expect you to understand why I did what I did, but I did it for the right reasons—or so I thought—and maybe one day you’ll know why. Natasha is a lovely child, and is safe. If you’ve found this letter, then you’ll know what to do next.”

  She lowered the sheet of paper. “And that’s it. No explanation, no apology, not even a ‘love from Mother’ at the end.” She looked at Gideon. “It’s up to us now. We’re on our own.”

  Gideon got to his feet and pulled her close to him.

  “We’re never on our own again,” he said firmly. “We’ll always have each other now, and together we can do anything, right?” He looked down at her and smiled. She nodded, her face serious. She had just opened her mouth to speak when her phone bleeped loudly. She jumped and stared over at it.

  “That’s a text,” she said unnecessarily, picking it up. ”I wonder who from? Oh, Judy… Oh, she’s coming here tomorrow to swap the cars over. She says to make sure we’re here all day and not to open the box till she gets here. She says she has something to tell us.” Abi looked at Gideon and shrugged. “Think it’s a bit late, don’t you? How can Judy know something about this, anyway?” she added with a frown.

  “No idea. Better text her and tell her we opened it already,” Gideon suggested.

  Abi bent over her phone and wrote a quick message back to Judy.

  “Already opened it. Bit of a shock. What do you know?” She pressed send. Within thirty seconds she got a reply.

  “Told you to wait. What did you find?”

  “Birth certificate. Lots of letters. She’s alive.”

  “Shit. Wanted to prepare you. Found something out and wanted to tell you. Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay. We’ll stay put.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Abi paused before she answered that one, and looked at Gideon.

  He shrugged. “Guess we are. Bit shell-shocked, but I think we’re all right.”

  Abi nodded and texted. “We’re okay. Sort of.” She added a smiley face.

  When the last text was sent, she placed her phone on the table and sat back down on the window seat. Gideon sat beside her, and together they gazed out of the window at the darkening skies. After a moment or two, Gideon put his arm around Abi’s shoulders. She leant back against him and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “We have a daughter,” she said softly. “She’s nearly ten years old, and we’ve never met her.”

  Gideon’s arm tightened around her shoulders, and he rested his chin on the top of her head.

  “No. We haven’t,” he agreed, “but I think that maybe we’re being given the chance to change that if we want.” He looked down at her. “D’you want to?”

  Abi sat up and looked at him. “Of course I do,” she said at once. “But I’m very scared. What about you?”

  “Same,” he said with a slight smile. “And still rather bemused. Until three days ago I didn’t even know she’d ever existed. It’s all a bit much. First I find you again and discover nothing was as I’d thought it was, and then this…” He shook his head. “But of course I want to meet her.”

  Abi stood up and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “What d’you think’ll happen, Gid?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly. “D’you think we have a chance of getting her back?”

  Gideon frowned. “Don’t know. It’s a very weird situation. She hasn’t been adopted, though, so there’s a chance.” He paused to search Abi’s face. “We must remember, though, that she knows nothing about us, and she may not like us. She may not want to leave the home.”

  Abi nodded. “I know. We’ll have to wait and see.” She smiled wearily at him. “God, I’m so tired! And we haven’t done anything energetic.” Gideon raised an eyebrow at her, and she blushed. “Well, nothing very energetic. Are you hungry?” she asked. He shook his head. “Neither am I. Shall we just go to bed? It’ll make tomorrow come more quickly.”

  “Like kids at Christmas,” said Gideon with a laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like a brilliant idea.” He smiled at her and held out his hand. “Your room or mine?”

  Abi blushed slightly again and took his hand. “Oh, yours. You have the double bed.”

  Chapter 23

  Saturday, 26th November 2005

  Abi woke to the sound of knocking at the door. She swore under her breath and nudged Gideon, who was snoring gently beside her.

  “Gid, Gid, wake up! There’s someone at the door!” she whispered urgently.

  Gideon groaned and rolled over. “Answer it, then.” His voice was slurred with sleep.

  Abi tutted. “It might be the press!” she persisted, pulling the covers up to her chin.

  Gideon sighed and turned over to face her. “Or it might be Judy,” he said.

  Abi leaned over and picked up her phone to see the time.

  “At eight o’clock?” she said dubiously. “She’d have had to leave at five to get here by now.” Reluctantly she climbed out of bed and pu
lled the quilt with her, wrapping it around her to cover her nakedness. Gideon protested loudly and tried to grab it back, but she slipped out of the room with a laugh.

  At the door she called out, “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” came the muffled reply.

  Abi opened the door a crack. “Judy?” she said in amazement. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

  She opened the door fully and let her friend in, all the time clutching the quilt around her. Judy gave her a quick hug and raised her eyebrows at the makeshift clothing.

  “Still in bed, then?” she asked with a grin.

  Abi frowned, and felt herself begin to blush. “As I said, Jude, it’s only eight o’clock. Whatever time did you leave?”

  She led the way into the living area, the quilt dragging behind her. Judy followed, sat down on the window seat, and looked around her.

  “I haven’t been here for ages,” she said with a reminiscent smile. “I shall have to bring the kids next summer. D’you remember all those holidays we had here, Abs?”

  Abi nodded and sat down next to her.

  “’Course I do. They were magical.” She bent forward and let her hair cover her face. “And these last two days have been…pretty good, too…mostly.”

  Judy looked around. “Is Gideon still asleep?” she asked.

  Abi shook her head. “No, he was awake. Doubt he’s gone back to sleep without…” She got to her feet. “Would you like a coffee?” Without waiting for the reply, she scuttled into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

  Judy grinned to herself in satisfaction. Things seemed to be working out, then. At that moment, Gideon appeared from the bedroom, dressed in boxers and a T-shirt and rubbing his eyes.

  “Hi, Judy. You’re early,” he said with a yawn.

  Judy rolled her eyes. “Stop saying that, you two,” she said. “I’ve got lots to tell you, and I think you have lots to tell me, so I thought we should have the whole day. I have to go back tonight.”

  “Am I still top news?” asked Gideon, crouching down and lighting the fire.

  “Hmmm…about page four now, I think,” Judy replied. “Some politician got caught with a prostitute, and he’s taken top billing. You’ll probably be safe to go back to your parents’ house tomorrow. I’m sure your mum is missing her car.”

  Gideon ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, she has texted me once or twice about it. Said Dad keeps seeing it on the news.” He grinned.

  Abi appeared just then with two cups of coffee, still attempting to keep the quilt wrapped around her.

  “For God’s sake, Abi, get dressed,” said Judy in exasperation, relieving her of the cups. “I’m dying to know what was in your box, and I’m dying to tell you what I found out.”

  Abi turned and hobbled back into the bedroom in search of some clothes, and Judy turned to Gideon.

  “Is she okay, Gid?” she asked with a slight frown.

  He nodded slowly. “Well, sort of, I guess. This has all been a hell of a shock to us both.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Until Tuesday, I never even knew I’d had a child, and then I thought she was dead. Now I find she’s alive and nearly ten years old. Bit much to take in, to be honest.”

  “I bet it is,” Judy said sympathetically. “I was hoping to tell you what I’d found out before you opened that tin. I guessed what was in there was something to do with the baby, after Mum told me what she’d found out.” She raised her eyebrows at Gideon. “And how about you and Abi? Are you okay together?”

  Gideon grinned at her. “Yeah,” he said. “I rather think we will be. Actually, she’s not nearly so high maintenance as she was as a teenager.”

  Judy giggled. “That’s true,” she admitted. “Although I do still seem to have to get her out of scrapes.”

  “Get who out of scrapes?” asked Abi, suspiciously, as she emerged from the bedroom dressed in jeans and a bright green jumper.

  “You, of course,” said Judy, smiling. “That jumper’s nice. It sets off your hair.”

  Abi sat down on the window seat next to her friend and looked at her expectantly.

  “Well?” she asked. “What is it you’ve got to tell us, and how come you know something about this?”

  Judy sighed. “Well, now you’ve opened the box, this isn’t going to be much of a surprise, but it might explain a bit more about what happened when your baby was born.”

  “Natasha,” chipped in Abi. “Her name is Natasha.”

  Judy’s eyes widened slightly, but she went on. “A few weeks ago a new midwife came to work at the hospital with Mum, and they kind of hit it off. They started meeting up in their breaks and chatting a lot about their experiences. Anyway”—she took a deep breath—“this nurse told Mum a really weird story from her past. Apparently the thing that made her think of it was when Mum saw the announcement of your mother’s death in the paper, Abi. She was reading it in the canteen at the hospital and happened to say what an unpleasant woman she’d been. The new nurse then said she wondered if it was the same Joan Thomson she’d come across many years ago, and proceeded to tell my mother your story. Apparently she’d worked in that clinic you went to, and she said she’d been worried about you, and tried to help you by phoning me…” She paused as Abi caught her breath. “But someone stopped her, and she was sent home, and denied any more access to you. She was told you were delusional and kept making things up about your pregnancy, about the father being famous.” Judy glanced at Abi as she spoke, and saw that her face was very pale and had a set expression on it. “She had no choice but to go home, but she vowed to come back early the next day and check on you. However, she received a phone call the following morning terminating her contract. She was allowed to go in later in the day to collect her things, but then she had to leave. When she returned to the clinic she immediately asked what had happened to you, and was told the baby had died and that you and your mother had gone home. She was devastated and asked for your address so she could go and say how sorry she was, but she was refused access to the records. When she collected her belongings, she went to see what had happened to the baby’s body but couldn’t find it. However, just as she was leaving the clinic, she heard a baby crying. When she attempted to go and see it, she was told it belonged to someone who had come in that morning. She realised that might be true, that there was no way she could check up on it. The whole episode has haunted her ever since, and she had always worried that your mother had somehow taken the baby away from you.”

  Abi was silent for a long moment. “That was Sally,” she said quietly. “I always wondered why she didn’t come back. I just thought she’d let me down like everyone else.”

  “Mum thought the whole thing sounded very strange, and when I told her you never got to hold the baby, she was most upset. She spoke to some of her contacts and managed to find out from one who’d also worked at that clinic at the time that a baby was born there in January ’96 and was then sent to a children’s home somewhere in Kent. I think that was your baby, and I suspect you might now have proof of that, from the things you found in the box?”

  Judy sat back looking expectant, while Abi got up and went to sit by Gideon on the floor before she nodded and replied, “Yes. We found her birth certificate, and some letters from a children’s home in Tunbridge Wells, written to my mother.” She took a deep breath and glanced at Gideon. “Apparently my mother registered her birth and called her Natasha Storm Thomson.” Judy gasped. “And …”—Abi paused to swallow hard—“she seems to have visited Natasha at the home on several occasions over the next few years.”

  Gideon reached up to the table and gathered the pile of documents they’d found in the box. He held them out to Judy.

  “Here, have a look. The last letter from the home, dated in July, is most interesting.”

  Slowly Judy took the pile of papers and began to look through them. Once or twice she gasped, and by the end she had tears in her eyes. She stared at Abi and Gideon.

  “She forged your signature,�
�� she whispered. “She knew she’d never get you to give up…Natasha, so she told you she was dead and forged your signature. But why did she do it? And why didn’t she go the whole hog and have her adopted? And why the visits? None of it makes any sense.”

  Gideon shook his head. “No, it doesn’t really, does it? That’s why we need to visit the children’s home and talk to them.”

  “And meet Natasha,” said Abi.

  Gideon reached out and squeezed her hand. “And meet Natasha,” he agreed with a smile.

  Judy looked worried. “Are you sure she’s still there?” she asked anxiously. “There hasn’t been a letter since July.”

  “But that one said they would reassess the situation after a year,” said Gideon. “So she should still be there now. Unless she’s been fostered. But she can’t be adopted at the moment.” He looked at Abi. “I think we should go down there on Monday. What d’you think?”

  Abi looked up at him. “Seems a long way off,” she said. “It’s only Saturday.”

  Gideon grinned. “We’ve waited this long,” he said. “We need to prepare for this. We must present a totally united and stable front if we want to have any chance of getting her back. That needs some work.”

  Judy nodded. “Yes, use the weekend to formulate your plan. You need to decide whether you want to tell her who you are or not. Maybe best not, until she gets to know you.”

  Abi got to her feet and walked over to the window. The day was overcast again, and the sea was crashing on the shore, sending spray all the way to the caravan. She turned and looked at the other two.

  “I feel so strange,” she said eventually. “I’m really having trouble with this. In the space of just over a week my whole life has changed. Absolutely nothing is as I thought it was. It’s like I’ve been living someone else’s life for the last ten years and now I’ve been given mine back. I need your help, big time, guys.” She held out her hands to the other two. As one, Judy and Gideon got up and went to her, and the three of them clung together.

  ****

  “Gideon just texted me.” Caroline came into the room holding her phone at arm’s length in an attempt to read what was on the screen. “Have you seen my glasses anywhere, Roger?”