‘This is the life!’ she exclaimed. ‘School over, no more work till September, and an exciting holiday to look forward to!’
‘I envy you South America,’ Jess commented, pulling off her dress and joining her on the rug. ‘It’s on my bucket list! Will you be back before your A-level results?’
Cassie pulled a face. ‘Why did you have to mention that? No, they come out our last week.’ She grinned. ‘If I don’t get the grades, I’ll run away and join the gauchos!’
‘You’ll get them,’ Jess said complacently, lying back with her eyes closed. Cassie was hoping to study psychology at Liverpool.
They were silent for several minutes, feeling the July sun soak into their bodies. Then Jess said, ‘Did you get any further with your birth mother search?’
‘Oh, I’ve pretty well given up on it for now,’ Cassie replied lazily.
Jess kept the relief out of her voice. ‘Oh? Why’s that?’
‘Well, I made a few enquiries and nothing came up on the most likely adoption sites, added to which it was all more time-consuming than I’d realized.’
Jess remained silent. She’d forgotten how her sister could be wildly enthusiastic about a project, only to abandon it at the first hurdle.
‘Do you ever think about yours?’ Cassie asked after a minute.
‘No,’ Jess replied truthfully.
‘When I was little, I used to imagine she was some sort of foreign princess locked up in a tower to stop her looking for me. Or the opposite, a beautiful serving maid in a rich household, and they took her baby because the son and heir was the father and they wanted to hush it up.’
‘You should be doing creative writing rather than psychology!’
Cassie laughed. ‘I can dream, can’t I? Perhaps it’s better not to know, so I can go on dreaming, though I’m past the princess and serving girl scenario.’
‘That’s a relief, anyway!’
Cassie sat up suddenly. ‘Well, you’re the one who wanted a swim! Race you to the water!’ And she set off, squealing as the hot sand burned her feet. In close pursuit, Jess was thankful that at least she had one thing less to worry about.
Patrick had become increasingly concerned after learning of Jess’s flatmate’s association with the dead man. If Tasha was right – and she’d seemed pretty certain – surely Maggie or whatever her name was would have come forward? Of course, he reminded himself, she might well have done so; people who’d contacted the police hadn’t been named in the press. But surely she’d at least have told her friends that she knew him, in which case Jess would have heard? And if she hadn’t told them, why not?
He was making far too much of this, he chided himself, but he knew he’d have no peace of mind till he’d spoken to Jess, and this new worry reminded him that he’d never got to the bottom of her unsettling comments at Cassie’s party. All in all, he felt in need of a serious conversation with his cousin, and if he hadn’t been committed to seeing his parents, he’d have driven straight up to Bristol to see her. Tomorrow would have to do, but he’d call now to make sure she could see him.
As it happened, she wasn’t in Bristol anyway, and when he called had just returned from a morning on the beach. Patrick hesitated; true, it would be much easier for him to drive to St Cat’s, but he didn’t want to have that conversation at Sandstone, when any of the family could interrupt them at any time and where he could hardly ask to speak to her privately.
‘What time are you going back tomorrow?’
‘I’ll be leaving here about six. Why?’
‘There’s something important I need to discuss with you.’
‘You’re not going to drag up that conversation on the stairs again, are you?’ It was the very last thing she wanted to discuss.
‘There’s something you need to know,’ he said, avoiding a downright lie. ‘What are you doing Monday evening?’
‘Meeting Connor for a drink.’
‘What time?’
‘Seven o’clock at the Wild Cat.’
‘Could you meet me there beforehand, at six thirty? We could have our discussion, and when he arrives say we just bumped into each other. It would be good to see Connor again. Then I’ll make myself scarce, I promise.’
‘It all sounds very cloak and dagger!’ Jess said cautiously. ‘But OK, if it’s that important I’ll meet you first.’ He heard a call in the distance. ‘Have to go now – lunch is ready. See you Monday.’ And she ended the call.
Not ideal, Patrick reflected. He’d have to leave the office early and dash up to Bristol for a half hour meeting before driving all the way back. But in the circumstances he felt he’d no choice.
Lunch, as always, was eaten at the kitchen table. Today the back door was open to the garden and Minty lay stretched on the mat, his fur glistening in the sunshine. Fleur, who prided herself on her salads, had produced one that incorporated spinach, artichoke hearts, avocados, black olives and toasted pine nuts, with flakes of salmon mixed in and a garlicky dressing to pour over it. The family did it full justice.
Verity finished her glass of Coke and pushed her chair back. ‘Thanks for lunch, Mum. Can I go now? Penny’s redecorated her room and wants me to see it.’
‘Wait a minute, dear,’ Owen said quickly. ‘Mummy and I have something we’d like to discuss with you all.’
The three girls stared at him, each reacting in her own way to the seriousness of his voice.
‘You’re not getting divorced, are you?’ Cassie asked, with a nervous half-laugh.
‘No, nothing like that; and I want you all to remember that what we say now doesn’t alter the family in any way at all.’
‘Now you’re really worrying us!’ Jess protested. ‘Whatever it is, please tell us!’
Fleur hadn’t spoken, and now sat looking down at her hands folded in her lap.
‘We’ve always told you,’ Owen continued, after a quick glance at her, ‘that Jess and Cassie were adopted. Well, that isn’t strictly true.’
Under the table, Cassie reached for Jess’s hand and held it tightly as they both recalled their conversation on the beach that morning.
‘For reasons we don’t really understand, Mummy and I weren’t able to have our own baby for a long time.’ He smiled at Verity, who stared speechlessly back at him. ‘So after a while we applied to adopt a baby – Jess – and she made all the difference to our lives. So, when she was about two, we decided we’d like a brother or sister for her. But at that time there were fewer children for adoption and more people wanting to adopt and we realized we’d have to wait years for our turn.’
He came to a halt. Jess and Cassie exchanged puzzled glances. He looked from one of them to the other, then asked abruptly, ‘Have you heard of surrogacy?’
‘No!’ Cassie and Verity said in unison.
‘I think so,’ said Jess.
‘In a nutshell, it’s when a woman offers to have another woman’s baby for her.’ He went on to explain the procedure in general terms, ending lamely, ‘So that’s what we decided to do.’
There was a silence, then Cassie said uncertainly, ‘And someone had me?’
Owen nodded, then glanced at Fleur again. She hadn’t moved.
‘But so what?’ Jess broke in. ‘Someone had me too! How is it any different?’
Owen cleared his throat. ‘This is the technical bit, but the bottom line is that in surrogacy one of the intended parents has to be related to the baby.’
The three girls looked at him blankly.
‘Which means that either the intended mother’s egg is fertilized and inserted in the surrogate’s womb, or the intended father’s sperm is used. And for various reasons in Cassie’s case it was my sperm.’
There was a moment’s silence, then Cassie said on a high note, ‘You mean you’re my real dad?’
Fleur made an instinctive movement but still didn’t look up.
‘We’re both your real parents, Cassie,’ Owen said quickly, ‘but I’m your biological father, yes.’
>
There was a silence, broken only by rapid breathing as unimaginable facts were slowly assimilated. There was one glaringly obvious question, and after a glance at Cassie’s face, it was Jess who asked it.
‘Then who’s her mother?’
And at last Fleur looked up, her eyes going challengingly round the table. ‘Jenny Barlow!’ she said.
There was a gasp from all three girls.
‘Auntie Jen is my mother?’ Cassie asked incredulously. Her lips began to tremble, and Jess thought achingly of the foreign princess and the servant girl. ‘But I don’t even like her very much!’ she said.
Verity said, ‘Is that why she was always hanging around when we lived in Bromley? And why they come down here every year?’
It was Owen who answered. ‘Darlings, what she did was a very brave and generous thing. She gave us Cassie and we can never thank her enough for that. The tragedy was that when the time came to hand her over to us, it nearly broke her heart.’
Tears had come into Cassie’s eyes and were beginning to run down her cheeks. ‘I’d rather have been adopted, like Jess!’ she said.
Jess looked from her sister’s devastated face to her father’s and demanded accusingly, ‘Why didn’t you tell us years ago, and why are you telling us now?’
‘Because,’ Fleur replied, ‘I was jealous of her having Daddy’s baby when I couldn’t, and I didn’t want anyone to know. In fact, I made everyone promise never to say. Also,’ she added in a quieter voice, ‘I thought if Cassie found out, she might love her more than me.’
‘Oh, Mum!’ Cassie reached across the table and took her hand.
‘So why are you telling us now?’ Jess persisted.
‘Because at a family lunch at the Barlows’ last weekend there was a row and the truth came out. And we thought that as Freddie and Gemma know, it was only fair that you should.’
‘And they might tell us,’ Jess said shrewdly, and saw her mother wince.
‘But as I said at the beginning,’ Owen reiterated, ‘it makes no difference whatever to who we all are. We’re exactly the same people as we were at breakfast.’
Out in the hall the landline phone started to ring and Fleur, who’d had more than enough of the conversation, hurried to answer it. She was gone for several minutes, and when she reappeared she stood in the doorway, white-faced, leaning against the frame.
‘That was Lynn,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘She was phoning to tell us that yesterday Jenny fell under a bus in Bromley High Street. She’s seriously ill in hospital and not expected to live.’
THIRTEEN
Cassie burst into tears.
Owen pushed back his chair, went to Fleur and took her arm. ‘Come and sit down, darling,’ he said, leading her back to the table.
She said shakily, ‘I was so horrid to her!’
‘What exactly did Lynn say?’
Tears welled in Fleur’s eyes. ‘Ron told her Jenny’d been upset ever since the row last weekend. And – oh God, this is the worst part! – witnesses said she seemed to step deliberately in front of the bus!’ She took out a tissue and wiped her eyes. ‘She was walking along the pavement, then suddenly just veered into the road.’
‘I didn’t mean that I didn’t like her!’ Cassie sobbed.
Verity said, ‘This is turning into the most horrible day! I’m going round to Penny’s. See you later.’ And she left the room.
Fleur looked helplessly at her husband. ‘What do you think we should do?’
‘There’s not a great deal we can do, except keep them all in our thoughts.’
‘Lynn said she’d ring as soon as there’s any news. We could send flowers?’
‘Better wait a while and see how things go.’
Jess moved uncomfortably. ‘Is it all right if Cassie and I go upstairs?’ she asked.
Fleur stretched a hand towards Cassie and let it drop again. ‘Of course, darlings,’ she answered distractedly, and the two of them thankfully escaped.
She turned back to Owen. ‘Ron met Freddie and Gemma during the week,’ she told him, ‘in an attempt to smooth things over. Lynn got the impression it didn’t go too well.’
Upstairs, they sat side by side on Cassie’s bed, Jess’s arm round her sister who continued to cry quietly. ‘At least you know your birth mother loved you,’ she said. ‘She still does. She only gave you away because it had been arranged beforehand, and she hated doing it. Whereas mine simply didn’t want me.’
‘You don’t know that. She mightn’t have had any choice either.’
‘Perhaps.’ Jess didn’t sound convinced.
Cassie blew her nose. ‘I wonder if I’d ever have found her, if I’d continued my search.’
‘Probably not, since it wouldn’t have gone through an adoption agency.’ She stood up. ‘Come on, we can’t sit here moping. There’s nothing we can do, so let’s go out for a walk.’
And Cassie, with a final sniff, acquiesced.
Justin hadn’t been pleased to hear his son was coming to dinner. He resented being put on the defensive and was unsure exactly what Patrick would come up with. Worst case scenario was that he’d mention the Exeter lunch twelve days ago. He’d been cursing himself ever since for arranging it; it had been a totally unnecessary risk and God knew where the repercussions might end.
The possible consequences had forced him to re-examine his feelings for Kathryn, and though he accepted that he didn’t want to lose her, nor, selfishly, did he wish to give up the illicit excitement Hilary provided. He flattered himself that he’d awakened her with his lovemaking, and her passionate response had been unexpected and profoundly gratifying. After nearly thirty years of marriage, it was addictively thrilling to sample the allure of forbidden fruit. It wasn’t love, he wasn’t naive enough to believe that, but the attraction was still as undeniably potent as at the beginning of their three-month relationship. Even thinking of her now aroused him.
And it wouldn’t have happened, he defended himself, if things had been better between himself and Kathryn. It was a long time since they’d made love like that. Could it, he suddenly wondered, be his fault? Had he allowed intimacy to become routine rather than passionate? But Kathryn was always so poised, so cool and in control of herself that perhaps subconsciously he’d held back. Now, he reminded himself, he might never have the chance to make love to her again.
‘I don’t know what we’ve done to earn this sudden display of filial duty – first Amy, now you,’ Kathryn remarked as they sat over pre-dinner drinks.
Patrick, on edge from the moment he’d arrived and aware he mightn’t get such an opening again, took the plunge. ‘It’s because we’re worried about you,’ he said, and from the corner of his eye saw his father stiffen.
‘Because Dad’s moved to the guest room? We discussed this before; I can’t think why you’re making such a big deal of it. The bed in there is firmer than ours and more comfortable for his back. We’ve both been sleeping better.’
True or not, this was a new explanation. ‘You just don’t seem – relaxed together, that’s all,’ he ploughed on. ‘And—’
Justin said quickly, ‘You’ll discover for yourself, my boy, that marriage isn’t always plain sailing. Life goes more smoothly at some times than at others, and being human we react accordingly. But in case you’re wondering, we’re not about to throw in the towel. Or at least, I’m not!’ He forced a laugh.
If he was waiting for Kathryn to agree with him, he was disappointed. She merely said, ‘Obviously we’re delighted to see you both, but we’re not in need of marriage guidance, thank you, particularly from our children who have no experience of it. Now, if we can consider the subject closed, I’ll serve dinner.’
It was not a comfortable evening. The subject might have been closed, but the strained atmosphere continued, principally because, though he strove to hide it, Justin remained on tenterhooks. Patrick wished uselessly that he’d had a more in-depth conversation with Amy, so they could have established a clearer cours
e of action. As it was, he was tempted to drop his bombshell simply to force their hands. It was a relief to all of them when it was time for him to go home.
Justin walked down the path with him. ‘Thanks,’ he said gruffly.
‘For what?’
‘You know damn well for what.’
Patrick turned from opening the car door. ‘Are you serious about this woman, Dad?’
‘No, of course not,’ Justin blustered.
‘Have you stopped seeing her?’
‘Well, I …’
Patrick made a disgusted sound and turned away. Justin put a quick hand on his arm.
‘Can’t we be adult about it? These things happen, Patrick. You must know they do.’
‘Not with my parents. I don’t want Mum hurt.’
‘Nor do I, for God’s sake.’
‘Then it’s in your court. For the moment.’
And with the implied threat hanging in the air between them, Patrick got into the car and drove off, leaving his father staring after him.
Before putting her light out, Jess crept downstairs with the intention of retrieving the daily paper. Subsequent traumatic disclosures hadn’t quite obliterated the comments her mother had made, both about there being further news of Bruce Marriott and about Dad actually meeting him.
But she was out of luck. The papers had been tidied away, and short of rummaging in the recycling bin she had no way of satisfying her curiosity. Disappointed, she went back to bed.
Gemma, white-faced and dry-eyed, sat holding her mother’s hand. There had been no flicker of movement in the twenty minutes they’d sat with her. All was quiet except for the bleeping of machines, the odd murmur from another bed and the constant movement of the nurses as they adjusted tubes and checked monitors.
She looked across the still form at her father, who’d aged visibly in the last few hours. ‘She’d want Cassie to be here,’ she said.
Ron’s heart lurched with love and pity for her. ‘Sweetie, she’s no idea who’s here and who isn’t,’ he said gently.
The Ties That Bind Page 15
