Half-truths & White Lies

by Jane Davis

  The sun was shining through the window, throwing shadows on the wall opposite.

  'Do a rabbit,' she pointed, referring to her favourite game of shadow puppets. I left my first and second fingers upright and wrapped the other fingers and my thumb inwards, rubbing the fingers against my thumb to make the rabbit's nose twitch. 'He-he-he-he! What's up, Doc?' I mimicked. This produced a giggle.

  'And a crocodile,' she commanded. I held the top of my hand stiff and snapped my thumb against it.

  'Never smile at a crocodile,' I sang, deliberately low. Then I made the crocodile take off after the rabbit and a chase ensued.

  She was unimpressed. 'Do a bird.' I joined my thumbs together and flapped my fingers, moving my hands diagonally up the wall, and cawing like a demented seagull.

  'Do an elephant!' she demanded. I was stumped. I had no idea how to do an elephant.

  'You do an elephant,' I suggested, after experimenting unsuccessfully.

  'No, you do it!'

  'No, you do it!'

  'Five minutes is up!' came a call from the kitchen.

  'Sorry,' I shrugged, and pretended to be making a very quick getaway. 'No elephants today.'

  'Read to me later!' Andrea called after me.

  '"Please can you read to me later, Uncle Pete?" ' her mother corrected, shaking her head.

  I joined her at the kitchen table. 'Was that really only five minutes? I'm exhausted!'

  'I'm afraid she's not been getting the amount of attention she's used to. I can't keep up with her at the moment and the grandmothers had to give up trying a long time ago.'

  'I enjoy being in demand.' I smiled. 'It's not so long ago I struggled to find people who wanted to play with me.'

  'That's because you can't do elephants,' she joked. 'If you don't learn, Andrea will get bored of you quickly enough.'

  'Can you do elephants?'

  'Can I do elephants?' She was mock-serious, then: 'No, I can't do elephants. That was always Tom's job. He was the elephant man.' She smiled sadly.

  'Boy, are we in trouble.' I took her hand. 'How long has he been gone?'

  She addressed the table. 'Five weeks.'

  'What have you told Andrea?'

  'That he's away working.'

  'And the grandmothers?'

  'Grandma Fellows obviously knows the truth. It's a small town. If my mother doesn't know already, she will soon.'

  'You haven't told her?'

  'And have her say "I told you so"? It's one thing thinking it yourself, but to have your mother say it to your face . . .' She exhaled noisily.

  'How long do you think it's going to be before Andrea starts asking questions?'

  'Pete, Tom could still come back,' Laura said deliberately slowly. 'I don't want to tell Andrea anything before I know what's happening.'

  'Has he been in touch?'

  'He sent money for the rent. No letter. No address. Just the money. For all I know, he might just need some space.'

  'So, it wouldn't help if I asked you to move in with me?' I asked hopefully, but already knowing the answer.

  'It helps me to know that you're still here for me. It broke my heart when you moved away. I thought that it was the last I would see of you.' It was an evasive answer, but an honest one.

  'So where does this leave us?' I looked at her down-turned eyes. 'Is there any "us"?'

  'For me, there always has been, but I know that that's not good enough for you any more.' She turned her eyes to me. 'Give me time. We both owe Tom that much.'

  'How much time? In a few months that baby will be born into the world fatherless.'

  She nodded with equal concern. 'Give me two months.'

  'And what about in the meanwhile? How will you manage?'

  'I have help,' Laura said humbly.

  'What if that help disappears?' Mrs Albury could be so changeable that I wouldn't have put it past her to withdraw her support if things weren't organized exactly the way she had in mind.

  'I'll manage, Pete.' Laura sounded weary. 'I have to manage.'

  'Let me come and see you at the weekends,' I implored.

  'How would it look if Tom came home and found you here? This is still his home, until he tells me otherwise.'

  I pushed my chair back and stood.

  'Are you leaving?' she asked, her look one of panic.

  'I'm going to read to Andrea. She's waiting for me.'

  'There's no happy ending now, is there, Pete?' She raised her eyes to me. 'If Tom comes back, I lose you, and if we get to be together, it means that I have lost Tom. You do know what you'd be letting yourself in for, don't you? I don't know if Tom's told you, but I'm not an easy woman to live with.'

  It was then that I knew that I had no intention of losing either Laura or Tom. They were both too important to me. We shared such a complicated history. If it was within my power, I was determined that we would not lose each other, regardless of the sacrifices it would involve.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Over the next few weeks, I was determined to track down Tom, using all of the tools that I had at my disposal through work. I spent my weekends in my home town, visiting all of our old haunts and letting it be known that I was looking for him. Tom had always been so visible in the community that I quickly dismissed the possibility that he was staying locally. His college confirmed that he hadn't handed in any coursework and that they assumed he had left. They explained that many a talented pupil takes this route in the approach to the final exams. Those he worked for regularly were as keen for him to get in touch as I was. His services were very much in demand and sorely missed.

  It seemed most likely to me that he had packed his guitar and returned to London in search of work as a session musician or in the recording studio where he had made a name for himself almost four years previously. I turned up on Faye's doorstep unannounced, afraid of being refused if I phoned first.

  'What on earth are you doing here, Peter Churcher?' she asked me. It was a question I didn't quite know the answer to myself.

  'Can I come in?' I asked her.

  She took one look at the luggage I was carrying. 'You can't stay,' she said, turning and leaving the door open for me. It was not a friendly start, but it was at least a start.

  'I was wondering if you had heard from Tom.'

  'I don't understand you!' Faye faced me with arms crossed over her chest. 'Laura needs you there with her, probably the best chance you have of catching her in a moment of weakness, and here you are trying to track Tom down. Are you mad?'

  'Faye, you know as well as I do that Laura won't be happy if she loses Tom. I'm certainly not going to step straight into his shoes if there's any chance at all that they could still work things out.'

  'So now you worry about doing the right thing! That's just typical of you. Don't you think that you're a bit late for that?'

  'I wish I could say that I'm acting selflessly, but the last thing I want is for me to move in with Laura and for Tom to turn up afterwards. Think how confused Andrea would be if nothing else.'

  Faye's mood seemed to change and she perched on the corner of her sofa, 'How did things get so complicated?' she asked. 'I'm supposed to be the one in our family who gets into scrapes and Laura is the one who bails me out. It's always been that way. Tom is supposed to be the young, good-for-nothing troublemaker. And you're supposed to be the respectable one. If we could all just stick at what we're good at, everything would be fine.'

  'Have you heard from him, Faye?' I asked again, softly.

  She looked at the floor. 'No.'

  'You're not helping anyone by keeping anything from me . . .'

  'Will you let me finish! Don't you dare use your solicitor tactics with me! I haven't heard from him. I've heard of him. He's been seen around town, busking down the Underground and playing the pub and club circuit.'

  'Any idea where I should start?' I took a notebook and a pen out of my jacket pocket.

  'All of the smaller venues. The Half Moon at Putney. The S
wan at Fulham. The Sun Inn at Clapham. The Borderline. The Hope and Anchor in Islington. That should do for starters. They'll be able to point you in the right direction.'

  'Thank you. That's a big help.'

  'Have you got any idea where any of those places are?' She frowned at me with the level of doubt that you would direct at a small child.

  'I'll look for the stops on the Underground. That's how I found you.'

  She left the room and returned with a book in hand. 'Your bible. The A–Z. I can do without you phoning in the middle of the night to tell me you're lost. Guard it with your life.'

  'I came to ask you something else as well,' I told her before I left. 'Won't you go home, Faye? You've been away too long and Laura needs a sister at a time like this. Andrea needs her aunt. You know how difficult things will be once your mother finds out what's going on.'

  'This is my home now.' She was stubborn. 'I have a job here, friends, a life. They are welcome to stay any time they like.'

  'This isn't your home. It's a rented flat. You deliberately haven't put down any roots here.' I looked around for examples of how bland and unloved the place felt. It reminded me of my own rented flat in Newcastle, but I had the excuse of only having been there for a few months. 'You haven't even hung any pictures on the walls. It still looks exactly like it did when you were visiting.'

  'Well, it's a fine thing that after all this you think you know what's best for my family.' Faye shut the door on me with a slam. I had taken no more than a few steps, when I heard it being opened behind me. 'If you find him,' she said, 'be sure to let me know.'

  I waved over my shoulder, the copy of the A–Z still in hand, walking in the direction of the Underground station. No matter how hard Faye tried to appear, I could rely on the fact that she loved her sister more than most sisters are entitled to expect.

  Tom had covered his tracks carefully. I got the distinct impression that he didn't want to be found. Apparently, none of the people he worked for knew where he lived or how to contact him. They all relied on him staying in contact with them. I told more than one of them that I didn't consider that it was any way to do business, instantly regretting how pompous I sounded.

  'And what line of business would you be in exactly, Mr Churcher?' I was asked by a surly, stocky man with a shaved head. I was taller than him, but when he folded his arms across his chest and stood with his legs slightly apart, he seemed to double in size. I had no doubt that he was used to defending his territory.

  'I'm a solicitor.' I felt safer behind the mask of my professional role. 'But this is a private matter. A family matter.'

  'Your name ain't Fellows.'

  'No, it isn't,' I conceded.

  'Well, Mr Churcher, this ain't a solicitor's office and you ain't family.'

  'I've brought a message from the family. If you can't tell me how to reach him, would it be possible for you to get a message to him?'

  'If we 'ear from him, I should be 'appy to pass on your message. More than 'appy.'

  'That's very kind of you,' I said, jotting down details of where I could be contacted and a brief message. I left similar messages at various locations around the capital. I wanted Tom to know how much I had wanted to get in touch and how hard I had tried to track him down. Over the weeks that followed, I returned to the same venues to see if those messages had been passed on and if there was news. I felt that some of the landlords were lying, and that some knew exactly who I was and were judging me, but only one greeted me by name.

  'Back again, Mr Churcher?' He was pulling a pint.

  'I was wondering if you'd heard from Tom Fellows since I was here last.'

  'A word of advice, Mr Churcher, if you don't mind. I've passed on your message like you asked. You're an intelligent man. It's obvious he 'asn't been in touch or you wouldn't be gracing us with your presence again. What conclusion can you draw from that?' He put the pint on a bar towel in front on me. 'If a man doesn't want to be found, there's no finding 'im. No charge this time.' He nodded at the pint. 'We operate a pub here. A place where people come to escape their worries. I like to think we do that very well. If you're not 'ere for a pint, I'm afraid you have no business being 'ere.' He moved on with a clap of his hands. 'Right then, who's waiting to be served? What can I get for you, sir?'

  I didn't darken his doorstep again.

  Two months passed and there was no news. It was time to pay Laura another visit; it would not be long before the baby arrived.

  'Pete,' she said, opening the door with one hand, her other on her hip. She had grown considerably larger since the last time I saw her and she leaned backwards to balance the weight of the baby. She smiled wearily. 'I hear from Faye that you've been playing the detective.'

  'Can I come in?' I asked.

  'The coast is clear for once. Andrea's having tea at a friend's.'

  She showed me into the front room, which was littered with piles of baby clothes.

  'I've been sorting out all of Andrea's old things. Some of them look as if they've hardly been worn.' She picked up a Babygro. 'Can you believe she was ever this small?'

  'Seems like only yesterday.' I smiled. 'How are you?'

  'Huge – as you can see. Tired. Trying to keep it all together for Andrea's sake.'

  'So you haven't heard from Tom?'

  I watched her lip quiver. 'Just an envelope with the money for the rent.'

  'I'm so sorry, Laura.' I reached out to touch her knee. 'I've tried everywhere I could think of.'

  'I didn't ask you to.'

  'Are you angry with me?'

  'With you? No!' She tried to smile through the first onset of tears. 'You've always looked after me. How could I be angry?'

  I had a sudden thought. 'I don't want you to think that because I've been looking for Tom that I'm not interested.'

  'I understand. I really do.'

  'Is the idea of a future with me so horrible?' I tried to be lighthearted.

  'You know that when I say yes to you, I'm giving up on Tom.' She let her head drop.

  'I know, I know.' I put an arm around her and let her head rest against my shoulder.

  'Do you think he's given up on us?' she asked, her eyelashes heavy with tears.

  I chose not to answer but hushed her as I would Andrea when she needed comforting. 'I'm here now.'

  She responded by holding on to the hand on her shoulder. Her touch felt child-like rather than like a lover's.

  After a while, when she was calmer, she asked, 'Where do we go from here?'

  'Well.' I tried to stick to the practicalities. 'We've got to get ready for this baby. If you're willing to have me, you need to decide where you would like to live.'

  'I want to stay here.' She was adamant about that. 'I don't want to move to Newcastle.'

  'I've already told the firm that I consider I've done my time at the new office, so that's not a problem. I've just got a few things to finish off there. Would you consider moving to my house? There's no shortage of room there.'

  'That seems best,' Laura said, looking around her at the cramped living room. I could tell that she was not ready to let go yet. There were too many memories in that one small room, in the flat that had never belonged to them. The shelves that Tom had put up. The stand that he had fixed to the wall for the rented television. The boiler housing that he had built. The folders of his course work for college. Their wedding photo on the wall. Evidence of a four-year marriage. I knew that she was wondering what Tom would do if he came back to the flat and it was empty. I was wondering the same thing myself.

  Part Ten

  Andrea's Story

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  I think that even completely normal families avoid talking to each other about the things that really matter. And so it was with us. At the age of twenty-five, some months after the parents who had brought me up had died, in my mind I started the gradual journey from being Andrea Fellows, daughter of Tom and Laura, the product of a stable and loving family, to becoming Andr
ea Churcher, daughter of Peter Churcher and Faye Albury, whose relationship seemed to see-saw helplessly. Of course, I didn't consider changing my name by deed poll. I hadn't even confronted them. Although there were times when I wanted to demand answers, I waited and waited for one of them to broach the subject with me. Not knowing where the conversation would take us, I wasn't sure that I should be the one to start it. How could I speak to my aunt who had made it so clear that she wasn't ready to talk? How could I talk to Uncle Pete, not knowing if he had spoken to my aunt yet and how much he knew. It was far easier to talk to Lydia.

  'I don't think you can assume that there was one party who was right and one who was wrong,' she said. 'It wasn't like it is today. Twenty-five years ago, you were either marched up the aisle or all choice in the matter was taken out of your hands. From what you've told me, the timing would have been just awful. Your grandfather had just died and your mother and father were more or less blamed. The whole family was falling apart, for goodness' sakes! It sounds to me as if your aunt must have been very strong. Just imagine, you decide that you're not ready for a child of your own, so you let your sister take her. How do you think that feels? Now imagine that you sacrificed a lot of things in your life to cover up the secret and suddenly it's out in the open. You think you've been lied to at the moment, but what if she thinks she's protecting you?'

  'I don't need to be protected,' I snapped. 'I need to know who I am.'

  Lydia was bullish. 'I know it's all come as a shock, but you know who you are just fine, missy. Do you think that Kevin will change overnight if he finds out who his birth parents are? No! Don't give me that. But what about your aunt? She spent years pretending to be someone she's not. And your godfather? Now, if anyone's been lied to . . .' She shook her head.

  'So are you saying that I shouldn't ask them?'

  'I think it will all come out in the wash in its own time. It's complicated. There won't be an easy answer because there are people and feelings involved. And, of course, if there was going to be a point when your aunt thought you should know, the two people who should have been the ones to tell you would have been your mum and dad. Because, no matter what, Tom and Laura will always be your mum and dad. That isn't going to change. Chin up, love.' She put one chubby hand on either side of my face and planted a kiss on my forehead. 'You're going to be just fine.'