Her Last Promise

by Kathryn Hughes

  He pushed a photocopy across the table. It was an article from the Manchester Evening News, dated Tuesday 7 March, 1978.

  The Skye’s The Limit

  The audience at The Amethyst Lounge was treated to a sensational performance last week, by newcomer Miss Violet Skye, 29. The regular Friday night crowd were unanimous in their appreciation of the quite astounding voice of this bright young star. I caught up with Violet, whose real name is Violet Dobbs, before she went on stage. ‘It’s a dream come true for me,’ she said. ‘To tread the same boards as Brucie, Lulu and Dusty is a huge honour. I keep having to pinch myself. I just hope I can repay the manager’s faith in me.’

  I can report that Violet had no need to worry on that score. Her performance was simply breathtaking and I predict that Miss Skye will be gracing the stage at The Amethyst Lounge for a long time to come.

  Ian Cherry, Man About Town

  There was a photo of my mother sitting in her dressing room, toasting the camera with a glass raised above her head. She looked so radiant and so full of life that I didn’t trust myself to speak. My throat ached with unshed tears. Mr Muggles jumped onto my lap and I absently stroked his head.

  ‘Are you alright, Mrs Richards?’

  I nodded, gently placing the furry ginger one on the floor. I could let the tears fall now. I had a good excuse. ‘I do apologise,’ I sniffed. ‘I’m allergic to cats.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. You should’ve said.’ He shooed Mr Muggles into the back room and closed the door but it wasn’t enough to silence the cat’s plaintive meows.

  ‘We leave virtual footprints wherever we go,’ Scotty continued. ‘There’s no hiding place, which is great if you want to be found, not so good if you don’t. Anyway, once I had Violet’s correct surname it wasn’t too difficult and – voilà! – here you are.’

  I continued to stare at the newspaper cutting. ‘She was so beautiful.’

  ‘She was and I can see the family resemblance if I may say so.’

  I could feel myself blushing. ‘Mmm . . . I wish.’

  ‘There’s a website dedicated to the old Amethyst Lounge. That’s where I found this article. There’s a section on there for people to share their memories. Your mother is remembered very fondly, you should take a look.’

  I thought back to those days. She was only there for a couple of months before she went off on holiday. ‘Thanks, perhaps I will.’ I went to slip the cutting into my bag. ‘Can I keep this?’

  ‘Sure.’ He reached for a rubber stamp and slammed it down on the front of the file. ‘CASE CLOSED’.

  He smiled at me and held up the stamp. ‘It belonged to my late father. I know it’s not exactly hi-tech, but I think he’d like the fact I still use it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say the case is closed exactly. My mother’s still missing.’

  Scotty rubbed his chin. ‘Our remit was only to find you, which we’ve done.’

  I could feel my nose fizzing again. I needed to get out of that stuffy moggie-infused office. I thanked Scotty and bade him farewell. I turned to leave but then hovered in the doorway. ‘Scotty, would you be interested in taking on a new case?’

  ‘Certainly. I never turn work away.’

  ‘I need you to help me find someone else.’

  He picked up his pad and pen. ‘Absolutely, fire away. Do you have a name?’

  There was a sudden influx of bile in my throat and my teeth were clenched together so hard it was difficult to get the words out. ‘The name’s Valentine. Larry Valentine.’

  42

  It was only when I was out on the street again that I remembered I was supposed to call Tom.

  ‘I thought you’d forgotten,’ he laughed, when he answered.

  ‘Sorry, I was late for my appointment, bloody signal failure or something. Anyway what did you want?’

  ‘Charming.’

  I ran my fingers through my hair. I hadn’t intended to be so brusque. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I’ve just met with the private investigator who tracked me down and I’m feeling a bit, I don’t know . . . discombobulated, I suppose.’ I remembered my mother’s attempts to get me to pronounce that word. I was sure she had made it up. She held my hand up counting off the syllables. Dis—com—bob—u—lay—ted. The final syllable she tapped out on my nose. I could feel my chin wobbling and I was grateful he couldn’t see me. I told him all about my meeting and the article from the Evening News.

  ‘Wow, that’s amazing. Fancy that. What are you going to do now?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to Spain.’

  ‘On your own? When?’

  I ignored his first question and jumped straight to the second one. ‘Next week.’

  ‘You don’t hang about, do you?’

  I pictured Nan in her room, cocooned from an outside world she would never see again. ‘I don’t know how long Nan’s got.’

  There was a pause, which stretched into an uncomfortable silence, and I couldn’t think of anything to say to fill it.

  ‘Would you like me to go with you?’ Tom asked.

  ‘You?’

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised, Tara. I know how much your mother meant to you and I was rather fond of her myself.’

  My heart hadn’t galloped so fast since the mums’ hundred-yard dash at Dylan’s sports day. I caught a glimpse of myself in a shop window. I’d forgotten to close my mouth. Someone barged into me and I found myself apologising to them.

  ‘Oh Tom, that would’ve been . . . well, I just can’t believe that you’d . . . Oh God.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Ralph’s coming with me,’ I blurted out. I closed my eyes and balled my hand into a fist. Damn, damn, damn.

  ‘Your ex?’ Tom didn’t bother to hide his surprise.

  ‘It was his idea and I never imagined for one minute that you’d want to come, even though it would make a lot more sense, considering Ralph didn’t even know my mother.’

  ‘Never mind,’ he sighed. ‘But if there’s anything else I can do just let me know.’

  ‘There is,’ I almost shouted before he had a chance to hang up. ‘What are you doing tomorrow night?’

  Charlotte was sitting by Nan’s bed as I entered the room. ‘How is she?’

  The usually upbeat nurse sounded a little subdued. ‘She’s not been great today. I didn’t ring you because I knew you were coming tonight.’

  ‘Charlotte,’ came Nan’s raspy voice. ‘I’m alright, stop worrying our Tara.’ I could see Nan’s hand fumbling for the control. Charlotte took over and Nan rose up like the proverbial phoenix from the ashes. ‘Hello, love. Have you found my Violet yet?’

  I sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Give me a chance, Nan. I have booked the flights for next week though. Ralph’s coming with me.’

  ‘Who’s Ralph?’

  At first I thought she was joking. She was fond of saying ‘He’s dead to me, that man.’ There was something different though. She was actually waiting for my answer. I beckoned Tom from where he was hovering by the door. ‘Nan, you remember Tom?’ And just like that, she was back in the room.

  ‘Tom Marshall, as I live and breathe. Which I’m just about managing to do.’

  He stepped forward. ‘It’s nice to see you again, Mrs Dobbs. It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Hey, less of the Mrs Dobbs. It makes me sound so old and I’m only ninety-one, you know. Call me Beryl.’

  Charlotte made her excuses. ‘I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back to give you your meds later, Beryl.’

  ‘Come closer, young Tom,’ Nan said. ‘Let me get a proper look at you.’

  He leaned in and she took hold of his chin, squinting as she turned his face to the left then to the right, like a farmer inspecting his prize heifer. ‘You’ve worn well, I’ll say that for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’m not complaining.’

  ‘Eee, I could set my watch by you back in the day. Every evening, one minute past six, the phone would go a
nd I’d hear our Tara thundering down the stairs to answer it.’

  Tom laughed at the memory. ‘Kids today don’t know they’re born, do they? They’re never off their phones. My Hannah can’t go more than two minutes without some form of contact with her boyfriend. She has a complete meltdown if she can see he’s online but has ignored one of her texts.’

  Nan frowned. All this technology was beyond her. ‘How are the twins, Ralph?’

  Despite the warm room, I shivered. This was not like Nan at all. ‘Nan, this is Tom, not Ralph.’

  ‘Tom?’

  I tried to remain patient and mouthed a silent apology to Tom. ‘This is Tom from Manchester. My first boyfriend, remember?’ Too late, I realised I’d adopted a completely different voice, as though I was talking to an imbecile.

  Nan looked at me as though I was the idiot. ‘Why are you talking like that, our Tara? I know who Tom is.’

  ‘But you just said . . .’

  Tom touched me on the arm and shook his head.

  I understood and changed the subject. ‘Anyway, I’ve booked to go to Spain next week, so hopefully I’ll have some news when I get back. I’ll only be away a few days.’

  ‘I do hope you find her, love. I’ve not had a bad life but if I could have one wish before I shuffle off, it would be to see our Violet one last time. I need to explain everything. I could die happy then.’

  Outside in the car park, I apologised again to Tom. ‘She’s not usually like that; honestly, she’s so sharp.’ I chewed at my thumb nail. ‘It’s worrying. And God only knows what she meant by needing to explain everything.’

  ‘No need to apologise, Tara. I’m really glad I came.’

  I gazed at his smiling face and saw nothing but kindness. ‘So am I.’

  43

  I’d checked more than a dozen times but I couldn’t resist the urge for one more look. I knew with absolute certainty that my passport and boarding card were in my bag but it’s a compulsion. I heard Ralph’s car pull into the driveway and I lifted the mink coat off the banister. It was perishing outside and the lawn sparkled with frost. I shrugged on the coat and was immediately transported back forty years. It still smelled of mothballs and paraffin. I stroked the fur and thought of Alf. The doorbell startled me and I hoisted my handbag over my shoulder and pulled out the handle on my case. ‘Alright, Ralph, I’m coming,’ I muttered.

  He had a worried look on his face when I opened the door. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Erm, Susie’s taking us to the airport. She insisted.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Ralph, I thought we agreed you’d drive then leave the car at the airport. It’s only for a few days.’

  ‘It’s fine; it’s better this way.’

  ‘For who?’ I mumbled, as I followed him down the path.

  Ralph loaded my case into the boot and I opened the rear door. There was no way I was sitting in the front next to her.

  ‘You’ll have to squeeze in between the twins,’ Susie said, without looking at me.

  Sure enough, both girls were strapped into their car seats, each sucking greedily on a bottle of milk. It was an awkward manoeuvre, but I managed to clamber over and wedge myself in the middle of the back seat. Thank God it was only a twenty-minute journey to the airport.

  Instead of merely dropping us off, Susie insisted on parking up and accompanying us to departures. Somewhat mystifyingly, Ralph went along with this, even though it involved getting out the double buggy, which it took the pair of them a good five minutes to assemble.

  Ralph’s patience was stretched as thin as the skin on Susie’s forehead. ‘For God’s sake, Susie. Surely you know how to put this thing up properly by now.’

  She pouted her glossy bottom lip. ‘Don’t start, Ralphie. Not when you’re going away.’

  I bristled at the mention of this derivative of his name. I’m the only one who ever called him Ralphie.

  He plucked one of the girls – Lily? Jasmine? – from the back of the car and settled her into the buggy. The other one, though, was having none of it. She arched her back as Ralph tried to press her into the buggy. I could tell he was becoming more and more flustered as the little girl began to wail, the acoustics in the multi-storey doing a sterling job of amplifying her histrionics. Finally, with the girls strapped, in we located the lift and traipsed in silence to departures.

  ‘OK, girls,’ said Ralph. ‘See you in a few days.’

  He crouched into the buggy and gave each of his daughters a kiss on the forehead. He then grasped hold of Susie by her shoulders and kissed her on the lips. She clamped her hand onto the back of his head and held him captive for longer than was acceptable, even for an airport departure terminal.

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ he said, when he was finally freed.

  His lips were stained the same colour as Susie’s, leaving me in no doubt that she had marked her territory.

  ‘Call me when you land,’ she breathed, stroking his cheek.

  He winked at her, reached out for her hand and pressed his lips into her palm. ‘You can count on it.’

  She flicked a tear from the corner of her eye. You’d have thought he was going off on a tour of Afghanistan.

  I clutched the handle of my case. ‘Bye then, Susie. Thanks for the lift and don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.’

  She didn’t even bother to hide her scowl or her note of sarcasm. ‘Thanks,’ she said through a tight smile. Then her face relaxed and she dropped the brittle tone. ‘And good luck with your search. I hope you find her.’

  Even though it was the beginning of December, according to the digital thermometer out on the street it was fifteen degrees Celsius, or nearly sixty degrees in old money. I wasn’t dressed for those temperatures and it came as a blessed relief to step inside the air-conditioned lobby of the hotel, with its shiny black tiled floors and trickling water feature. I felt a tiny bit ridiculous with a mink coat slung over my arm. Ralph slid our passports over the desk.

  ‘Welcome to Madrid, Mr and Mrs Richards,’ beamed the receptionist. ‘We have a double room reserved for one night.’

  I jumped in, rather dramatically it has to be said. ‘Oh God, no, that’s not right. Two single rooms, please.’

  She frowned and tapped away on the keyboard, whilst I glared at Ralph. ‘I’m so sorry, we only have a twin room available as an alternative to a double.’

  I blew out my cheeks and fanned myself with my passport. ‘That’ll have to do then.’

  She handed over two key cards. ‘Second floor, room 212.’

  Our meagre luggage had been confiscated by a liveried bell-hop who promised to bring it up to our room even though we were more than capable of carrying one small bag each. Once we were inside the lift I hissed at Ralph. ‘A double room, really?’

  He shrugged and wrinkled his nose. ‘Sorry, force of habit.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if Susie finds out we shared a room.’

  ‘How will she?’ He smiled at me. He knows me so well. I may be bitter but I’m not that spiteful.

  I locked the door whilst I took a shower. Ralph might still be my husband but he hadn’t seen me naked for over two years and I didn’t relish the thought of him comparing my body to Susie’s. When I emerged from the bathroom swathed in the hotel’s stiff towelling robe, I found Ralph sitting on his bed, a bottle of champagne between his knees.

  ‘What’s this?’ I plonked myself down next to him.

  ‘I don’t get out much these days, Tara.’ He filled a flute and handed it to me. ‘Cheers. And here’s to a fruitful trip. I know how much this means to you.’

  He looked more relaxed than I’d seen him in a long time and I wasn’t even mad when it dawned on me that he’d made this trip for his own sake as much as mine.

  I removed the towel turban and shook my hair free. ‘Are you happy, Ralph?’

  He adjusted his position slightly so that we were facing each other, only the champagne bottle between us.

  ‘Mostly. A
re you?’ He reached out and scooped a wet tendril of hair out of my eyes.

  ‘I suppose so.’ I took another sip of my drink. ‘We weren’t really working, were we?’

  ‘None of it was your fault, Tara.’

  I leaned back in shock. This was a turn-up for the books. ‘I thought I wasn’t enough for you.’

  ‘You were more than enough, Tara. I see that now.’

  I supressed the urge to give a victorious punch of the air. ‘Well, it’s too late now, Ralph. You have another family.’

  He lowered his gaze and fiddled with the foil on the champagne bottle. I moved my glass towards him. ‘Any chance of a refill?’

  He looked up, then almost in slow motion he leaned in to me until his face was only an inch away. My heart skipped like a teenager having her first snog behind the bike shed but I didn’t recoil. I closed my eyes and waited for his lips to meet mine. The champagne had clouded my judgement and all the rules had flown out of the window. He didn’t kiss me, his lips merely brushed mine as he lifted a hand to my neck, then let it trail down my front as he gently teased open the dressing gown. His hand was freezing cold as he slipped it inside and I gasped in shock more than desire. He placed the bottle on the floor, shifted his weight then pressed me down onto the bed. I knew it was imperative that I pushed him off; this could not go any further for so many reasons. He buried his face in my neck. ‘You smell divine. What is it?’

  ‘It’s . . . it’s nothing, just some hotel shower gel. Ralph?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Ralph,’ I said a little more urgently. ‘We can’t.’ I couldn’t believe I actually felt sorry for Susie. The phone on my bedside table started to vibrate. ‘Ignore it,’ said Ralph.

  ‘It might be important,’ I said, pushing my palm into his chest. He lifted himself up and leaned across to squint at the caller ID, just as the phone stopped vibrating. ‘Someone called Charlotte,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I shouted. ‘Give me that phone.’

  ‘Who’s Charlotte?’