‘That’s all right, call and see me when you’re free,’ she said brightly. She reached for her coat and said, ‘Sorry but I have to go and see Kitty and Bob as well, they’ve been helping us with the garden.’
She ushered him out of the door and he walked to the bus stop, wondering if he was too late to meet Hazel Proudfoot. His tender ego needed some attention. He stopped at the house where George Dexter lived, staring enviously at its elegance, the facade partially lit from uncurtained windows and a lamp outside the porch. It was a beautiful house with an impressive porch, there were five windows at the front, the stone front wall was covered with a creeper, which he didn’t recognize, not being interested in flowers. He felt a surge of longing to own such a place. He was certain he had been meant for better things than a small terraced house and a greasy garage workshop. He would have no chance of living in a place like this if he stayed mending bicycles or even cars, he thought, as he stood, imagining himself with a glamorous wife, stepping into an expensive car parked on the wide, double entrance drive. However hard his father might try to teach him, he simply wasn’t any good at the job. But married to a successful estate agent, this is what he might aspire to. He increased his speed, striding out through the darkening evening and began to think of ways to persuade Lucy they belonged together.
He called at the Ship and Compass and sat there looking around at the assorted customers with dismay. Would he end up just like these men? Sitting talking to men like themselves, convincing themselves they were happy and successful? He ordered a potato and meat pie and, eating without enthusiasm, decided that although Hazel Proudfoot was a pleasant enough companion, his only real hope of achieving the rich life he believed should be his, lay with Lucy Calloway.
Teifion was also in the pub and left at the same time as Gerald but they didn’t speak. Gerald walked slowly, knowing he was on his way home to a dull evening, with his father talking about the conference, the people he’d met, followed by a conversation on engines old and new, and even more boring subjects like paint finishes. As he passed the office of Evans and Calloway in Forge Street he felt a tug of hope. He was good-looking and Lucy had been hard to discourage when he’d first met Hazel Proudfoot, so he was surely capable of winning her back? She was almost thirty, a time when most women needed to feel secure. For women, security meant a man, he thought complacently, confident she’d agree.
Teifion also walked home and was relieved to find that his father wasn’t at home when he went inside. There was a note from his father, resting against the biscuit tin in the kitchen, to tell him there was a meal in the oven that would need about twenty minutes to heat. He looked at it and shuddered. At least Frieda’s food was edible. He reached for the loaf and began cutting it, searching for a remnant of their cheese ration to fill the slices. The fire was low, almost out and the evening had brought a chill to the empty house. How far was this from his dream? Like Gerald, he ate without enthusiasm.
*
George was about seven miles away staring up at a dilapidated hotel. He knew he shouldn’t have come. Walter’s words had to be untrue; his suspicions, roused by Walter’s unkind words, were no more than anxiety brought on by reminders of their age difference. The rumours that surfaced from time to time were nothing more than that, untruths made up by jealous people, envious of his happiness with a young and beautiful wife. Frieda was in Brighton as she had told him, enjoying a few days with her sister. He’d had a card from her that morning with a loving message on it. Although, a small cynical voice reminded him, that wouldn’t be hard to arrange. He looked up at the building in front of him with its boarded windows and the harshly painted front door, the unwashed steps. He couldn’t imagine Frieda in such a dreadful place! The door opened, its weak hinges causing it to drag noisily against the step. He darted back into the shadows and watched, promising himself he would go home as soon as these people disappeared. He studied them as they headed towards him, a man arm in arm with a woman, her high heels tapping as she hurried to keep up with his long-legged stride. Then he heard laughter and knew without doubt that it was Frieda.
‘Frieda!’ Without giving himself time to think, plan how to deal with the situation, he stepped out and confronted her. He was horrified at the way she was dressed. Short skirts, low-necked blouse, in spite of the cold, late evening weather.
‘George, darling? How did you know I was here?’ She stepped forward as though to kiss him and he backed away. ‘This is my sister’s fiancé, Simon, they were going to give me a lift home but I decided to stay one more night with them. Awful place, but it belongs to a friend of theirs.’ She looked back as though expecting her sister to be following. ‘Teresa will be along in a minute.’
‘You might as well come home with me, hadn’t you?’ George said. His voice had a tremor, shock making his body shake.
‘No, darling, you go on, we’ve arranged to meet a few friends. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, love you,’ she whispered and he turned away.
George drove at dangerous speed to where Walter and Lynne Evans lived and banged furiously on their door. Walter had been the first to confirm what he suspected and he ought to suffer as well. Shoot the messenger? At last he understood what that meant.
‘I know your precious daughter was adopted!’ he shouted as Walter opened the door and began to smile a greeting. ‘There! How d’you like it? Being told some unpleasant gossip about your family? You enjoyed telling me about Frieda and I’m enjoying my revenge.’ At that time he didn’t care whether or not Teifion had been telling the truth, he just needed to hurt someone. He hurried away on legs that seemed to wobble, he was shaking so much he had difficulty unlocking the car door.
Walter turned and stared at Lynne, who had run to the door as the shouted words had reached her. ‘Walter, he knows! What shall we do!’ She was crying, tears falling and he took her in his arms.
‘After all this time, and it had to be George Dexter, of all people, who learned our secret. Oh, Lynne, love, why didn’t we tell her? We should have told her.’
Still sobbing, Lynne said, ‘Now he knows he’ll tell her. He’ll never be able to keep this to himself. He’ll tell our daughter.’
‘I don’t know what to do. I could go down, tell her now in a rush, nothing like how we dreamed of, telling her of our love, and pride. I don’t think I can. Perhaps he won’t tell her.’
More calmly, Lynne said, ‘Oh he’ll tell her, don’t doubt it. Unless you can persuade him not to. Go after him, plead with him to keep quiet. It will ruin everything if she finds out like this. She’d never trust us again. Why didn’t we tell her when she was young enough to cope? I daren’t think what this will do to her – to us.’
Walter sat down, his face like parchment, his eyes bright and feverish. ‘I’ll probably be too late.’
‘Please, Walter, we have to try.’
Like a frail old man, Walter got up, took the coat Lynne was offering and picked up his keys from her trembling hand. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said.
He didn’t drive as furiously as George had done and when he reached Badgers Brook he saw to his alarm that George’s car was already parked in the lane. He and Lynne ran to the path leading to Badgers Brook but as they passed his car, the door opened and George said, ‘I haven’t told her.’
‘Thank goodness for that. George I’m ashamed of the way I told you my suspicions about your wife. I’m sorry. I was wrong.’
‘No, you were right, I’ve just found out that what you said was true. And that was why I wanted to hurt someone. We’re both capable of childish behaviour, Walter. There’s malice in the best of us when we’re hurt.’
Lynne was trying to subdue her sobs of relief. She got back into the car, waiting for Walter to join her.
‘Thank you. I’ll always be grateful to you for this, George. And I’m very sorry about your wife.’ Both men had calmed down, but Walter said just too many words and ruined it. ‘I suppose it was always a risk, marrying someone as young an
d attractive as Frieda.’
‘What d’you mean?’ George demanded. ‘The age difference hasn’t been a problem.’
‘Well, she’s bound to be tempted by younger people, having fun, going places. Let’s face it, George, we aren’t as keen on dancing and parties as we once were. She must feel she’s missing out.’
‘Of course she isn’t missing out. I’m not an old man. I can keep her happy. Age isn’t the issue!’
‘Fifteen years? Give over!’
‘She’s content with the life I give her, living in a beautiful home, all the money she wants, plenty of clothes and holidays twice a year, what more could she want?’
Walter shrugged. ‘What we had at her age I imagine.’
George had a vision of how Frieda dressed at home, with subdued colours, neat twinsets and sober skirts, very little make-up, hair held in a netted bun. Then as a sudden shocking reminder, he saw her as she had appeared that evening, with a red, revealing top and a white skirt, ridiculous red shoes and her hair loose around her heavily made-up face.
He leaped out of the car, punched Walter and burned up the path. Without knocking he went in to where Meriel and Lucy were sitting near the fire listening to comedy on the wireless. Meriel jumped up in alarm.
‘Mr Dexter? What on earth is wrong?’ She saw her father following, blood on his face and Lynne behind him pleading with George Dexter to stop.
Walter grabbed George’s arm and pulled him towards the door, shouting, ‘Haven’t you harmed us enough?’ Then the two men were fighting, hitting out at each other wildly and without skill. Sobbing, Lynne was begging him to say nothing. With Walter off balance following a blow, George pushed him aside making him stagger and fall against the wall, and he panted, ‘Wrong, Meriel? Only that you were adopted. Only that Walter and Lynne aren’t your real parents.’
Laughter flooded out from the wireless as Walter sank into a chair. Lynne ran to him, hugging him, his low groans at odds with the merriment of the wireless programme. Without a word, George walked out.
‘Dad? Is this true?’ Meriel whispered, hugging Lucy like a lifeline.
‘I’m sorry, my darling girl, but yes, it’s true.’
Lucy reached over to turn off the cruel canned laughter from the wireless that seemed to be mocking them. In the awful silence they all stared at each other like strangers, none of them knowing what to say. Walter’s heavy breathing, the shifting embers of the fire and the distant sound of George’s car driving off, brakes squealing as though sharing their pain, were the only sounds.
Five
Adopted, adopted, the word echoed in Meriel’s head as she tried to take in the implications. Shock numbed all thought momentarily, followed by disbelief, then the comforting conviction that it was a stupid joke, then, seeing her mother’s stricken expression, the terrifying realization that it was true. She wasn’t the person she had always thought she was, she no longer belonged.
It seemed later that she and her parents had stared at each other in silence for an age, but in reality it could only have been seconds before Lynne gave a sob and pulled Meriel into her arms. Meriel relaxed against the well-loved warmth and wrapped her arms around her mother as though to stop herself being dragged away.
‘It’s true, is it?’ she said softly. ‘You’re not my real mother?’
‘Of course I’m your real mother, darling. I’ve cared for you and loved you with a fierce pride from the moment I first held you in my arms. How could anything change that?’
Walter was standing beside them and he reached out and put an arm around them both. ‘No one could be loved more than you. Besides being our daughter, you’re our best friend.’
Lucy was shaking, unable to decide whether to go or stay through the painful revelations. She finally tiptoed away towards the kitchen.
Through the haziness of her confusion, Meriel heard the kettle being filled, the gas being ignited and the normal, everyday sounds brought a return of sanity.
‘Lucy’s making tea, isn’t that the only thing to do, drink tea and pretend everything is all right?’
‘Everything is all right. Nothing’s changed.’
‘Of course everything’s changed! Who am I? Where did I belong before I belonged to you?’
‘You were ten days old, a tiny scrap of a thing and so beautiful. You’ve never belonged anywhere except with us.’
Questions flew from Meriel’s mouth like barbed arrows, attacking her parents, demanding answers to questions that were hardly formed. Her emotions darted from bewilderment to fear and back again. Lynne and Walter answered them all calmly assuring her of their love and pride. ‘We regret not telling you before this, darling,’ Lynne said tearfully. ‘We were so wrong, but really, everything is the same as it was an hour ago.’
‘Except there’s a part of my life about which I know nothing. And never will,’ Meriel replied. Her voice was harsh with pain.
‘I’m afraid that’s true,’ Walter admitted, ‘and we’d have given anything to protect you from this.’
‘D’you know why I couldn’t stay with my mother? Why she didn’t want me?’ she demanded.
‘I expect we were given a little information but I don’t remember. We didn’t ask,’ Walter replied.
‘We were so thrilled when you arrived we didn’t give such questions a moment’s thought,’ Lynne added.
‘And you and – Dadda?’ She couldn’t help the momentary pause before his title. ‘Why did you adopt?’
It was Walter who answered. ‘We couldn’t have children of our own, but if we’d had a dozen, you wouldn’t have been loved any less.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve made me live a lie all these years. Everything I believed has been a lie. I should have been told.’
‘You’re right, we should have explained when you were a child. We did try, many times, but we were too afraid of losing you, afraid you’d hate us, step away from us and treat us like strangers.’
Lucy came in with cups of tea and handed them round, bringing tables and stools to place beside each chair. It was Lucy who refilled cups and, after listening to the stumbling and disjointed attempts at conversation, who finally suggested they parted and continued the discussion in the morning. ‘I think you all need some sleep, and tomorrow everything will seem clearer.’
Without arguing, Lynne and Walter left, hugging both girls before stepping out into the darkness.
‘We’ll be back in the morning,’ Lynne said, unable to hide her tears.
‘Why not come in the evening,’ Lucy said briskly. ‘We need to open the office between nine and five thirty. Best we keep everything as normal as possible. We can’t neglect the business, even at a time like this.’ She glanced at her friend, hoping she had said the right thing. She was at a loss to know how to deal with such a painful revelation but instinct told her that normality was the best way forward.
Meriel didn’t think she could ever face people again. ‘How can I?’ she asked Lucy when they were alone. ‘I don’t know who I am.’
‘You are Meriel Evans, estate agent, daughter of Lynne and Walter Evans. Like your mum said, nothing has changed.’
‘But George Dexter knows and so does his son. I can’t believe they will keep quiet, can you?’
‘So what?’ She grinned then. ‘I was never close to my mother and certainly not my stepfather or my stepsisters. I wouldn’t complain if I learned I was a stranger.’
‘Oh yes you would!’ Meriel said angrily. ‘No one wants to lose their family and live in a void.’
‘No. That was my poor attempt at a joke. I’m sorry.’ She stacked the dishes in the washing bowl and dampened down the fire. ‘Come on, it’s time you went to bed. Things will look different in the morning.’
Meriel went upstairs but knew she wouldn’t sleep. Why hadn’t she been told before? If she had grown up with the knowledge she’d have accepted it and pushed it aside. Learning now – and from the unpleasant George Dexter – made it shameful, something to b
e hushed up like a dirty secret. Oh, how she hated the man and his objectionable son.
Lucy went up after dealing with a few chores, moving quietly hoping her friend was asleep, but as she passed Meriel’s door, Meriel called out in a hoarse whisper, ‘Lucy, I don’t think I can sleep, shall we have a cup of cocoa?’
‘All right, I’ll get it.’
‘No, you get ready for bed, I’ll go down. I need to move around, get chilled, then perhaps getting back into a warm bed will help to send me off.’ She took the steaming cups up the stairs and sat on Lucy’s bed while they drank.
‘I’m all alone – or that’s how I feel,’ she added, as Lucy began to argue. ‘Like being in the middle of a desert with nothing but sand all around, covering all I once had. Or being on a bare mountain with no one in sight, with small cracks and crannies I can’t reach, that are hiding secrets about my real family that I’ll never be told.’
‘You wouldn’t want to find them, would you? This other family?’
Meriel looked thoughtful. ‘It isn’t possible, but if I had the chance I doubt I’d be able to resist. But I’d like to see them without them seeing me.’
‘So you can walk away if you don’t like what you see?’
‘No, I don’t think I could walk away. I’d like to watch them, then think about it before facing them. I so desperately need to understand, but I’d like time to consider, to learn something about them – and maybe see who I might have been.’
‘I’m sure the way you’re brought up has a bearing on how you develop, but I really can’t imagine you being anything but bright, clever and besides, your looks won’t have been any different. You’d still have your beautiful blue eyes and glorious red hair. So you’d still have been you.’
Lucy continued to persuade her to talk and they were still sitting there when dawn sneaked through the curtains and birdsong began filling the air.
‘A robin, a chaffinch, a blackbird, a song thrush,’ Lucy reported, concentrating. Then a loud yelp startled her. Rascal was awake and ready for action.
The Heart of the Home Page 10
