Anna

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘Yes. I do remember my mum saying she loved him and that maybe if things had been different, you know, different timing...’ She felt her blush rise, mirrored by Lisa’s own. This was, despite their mutual affection, still a less than comfortable topic. ‘But that might have just been my mum’s take on things. Her wish, if you like. I mean, I was little and so she was always going to sugar-coat things.’

  ‘I know how that works.’ Lisa sighed, referring to her own rather complex relationship with Kaylee’s dad.

  ‘What can I get you, love?’ The slender waiter in his black waistcoat interrupted them, holding his little grey notepad in the air, his pen poised.

  ‘Just a cup of tea, please.’ Anna smiled.

  ‘One cup of tea,’ he repeated as he jotted this down. ‘And for your sister?’ He looked at Lisa and both women beamed, delighted that the connection was obvious to the outside world.

  ‘Same, please.’ Lisa drew breath and waited for him to turn on his heel before continuing. ‘Well, two things. Firstly, I remembered something that I wanted to share with you. When I was little, no more than four or five, I’d say, I was sitting on the sofa with Dad when my mum came storming into the room and she was mad as hell. Her face was scarlet. She was holding a T-shirt, a pale pink T-shirt with capped sleeves. She shoved it into my dad’s face and said, “What’s this?” He shrugged and didn’t say anything, but I saw him sit up straight, paying good attention but trying not to, if you can imagine.’

  Anna nodded. She could imagine.

  ‘And then my mum kind of... well, I don’t know how else to put it, apart from to say that she kind of growled!’

  ‘Growled?’ Anna tried to picture such a thing.

  ‘Yes, it was horrible. I was really scared. I can still picture her pulling at the fabric with all her might, stretching it thin, gripping it in her hands with her elbows sticking out and baring her teeth until it ripped. And then she really went to town, shredding it and yanking off pieces and flinging them to the floor. And then she calmed a little and was out of breath, and she turned to Dad and said, “It’s bad enough you would chuck me over for another bloody woman, but don’t you dare bring anything of hers into this house. Don’t you dare!” And then she walked out and slammed the door.’

  ‘God, that’s awful.’ Anna felt a spike of unease on behalf of Sally, who must have been hurting, and also for her half-sister, who had witnessed this very grown-up exchange.

  ‘But it’s what happened after she left the room that affected me the most and that’s what I wanted to share with you.’ Lisa ran her tongue over her lips. ‘It was almost like I wasn’t there. Dad slipped off the sofa and scurried about on the floor, gathering up the bits of pink T-shirt and holding them to his chest like they were something precious. It was this that struck me more than anything else. Not my mum going nuts, but the look on Dad’s face as he scrabbled about, squeezing the scraps of cotton in his hands as if they were bits of dough that he might be able to put back together. And he looked...’ She paused and stared at Anna. ‘He looked completely broken, distraught.’

  ‘That’s so sad.’ Anna conjured a picture of the man she had never known performing this desperate, demeaning act in front of his young daughter.

  ‘Here we go, ladies. Two teas.’ The waiter placed a cup and saucer in front of each of them and left sharply. The café was filling up and he was busy.

  Lisa sat up straight and reached into her handbag. ‘Anyway, the point of that story is this: I’d forgotten about it, put it to the back of my mind, until...’ She flipped what was clearly a photograph back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. ‘This is the reason I remembered the whole thing and I think it answers your question about whether it was anything more than a quick fling for Dad.’

  Lisa slid the glossy Polaroid snap over the tabletop and there was her mum staring back at her! Anna felt her tears pool. She had precious few pictures of her mum and to see her face, young, smiling and so full of life was a real gift.

  ‘Oh, Lisa!’ she managed, before reaching for one of the scratchy white napkins that sat in a natty plastic dispenser at the end of the table.

  ‘I found it in one of his books that he kept in his bedside cabinet. I’m no great reader and it nearly went to the charity shop, but for some reason I decided to flick through it. And there this was, nestling inside it. And look what she’s wearing.’ Lisa pointed.

  Anna wiped her eyes and scrutinised the photo again. Karen Cole was sitting on a bed, a hospital bed, wearing a pink cap-sleeved T-shirt, and next to her sat a youthful, smiling Michael Harper, her dad. They were sitting squashed up against each other, with every possible part of their bodies in contact, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, heads inclined, touching. They looked happy, deliriously happy. Their joined arms formed a rough heart shape in front of them and there, resting half on her dad’s forearm and half on her mum’s was Anna, a tiny baby, swaddled in a white crocheted blanket.

  The three of us. My parents. My family! This was the moment he told me about in his letter. This was when he held us both in his arms!

  ‘The moment I saw this picture I remembered the T-shirt incident and so in answer to your question, I would say your mum, and you, for that matter, meant a whole lot to him. More than a whole lot.’

  Anna cursed the tears that she blotted into the napkin. ‘I can’t tell you how lovely it is for me to see this.’

  ‘Keep it, of course. It’s yours.’ Lisa smiled. ‘He was my dad and I loved him and I hated how he hurt my mum, for all her faults, but he was your dad too and I don’t doubt for a second that he loved you and your mum very much. And being kept apart from you must have been so hard.’

  Anna nodded at this truth. ‘What...’ She sniffed and blew her nose. ‘What was the book?’

  ‘Ah, thought you might ask.’ Lisa reached again into her bag and pulled out a pale green, cloth-covered edition of The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling.

  ‘Of course it was.’ Anna smiled and ran the tip of her finger over the face of the man in the photo. My dad, my daddy.

  Having kissed her half-sister goodbye and with the book safely inside her bag, Anna raced back along Long Acre until she found a cab and jumped in.

  ‘Barnes, please,’ she managed through noisy tears.

  ‘You okay, love?’ the cabbie asked.

  Anna nodded at him in the mirror.

  ‘We’ll have you home in no time. As I say to my little girl, there’s nothing in the world that warrants lots of tears, nothing at all.’ He gave a small chuckle.

  She pictured a little girl at home waiting for her dad who was a black cab driver and her tears fell even harder. Anna took the book from her bag and placed it on her lap, taking comfort from the feel of it beneath her fingers. She looked out of the window as London rushed by.

  *

  She had made supper and was now pacing the kitchen, checking on the steak-and-ale pie in the oven and stirring the mash occasionally to keep it soft and warm. She filled the small watering can that lived under the sink and watered her potted lemon tree. Its stem was thickening and had even sprouted woody arms with dark, glossy leaves, but it was still to bear fruit.

  ‘One day, Griff, we shall pick lemons for our summer drinks from this little plant. Just you wait and see.’ She smiled at her puppy, who ignored her. This in itself was progress.

  ‘Come on, Theo.’ She wiped her hands on the dishcloth. It had been quite a day and she wanted nothing more than to tell her husband all about it. For the umpteenth time she opened the cover of the book and picked up the photograph, holding it up to the window, studying every aspect of the image that had only been in her possession for a few hours but had already been committed to memory, right down to the tiniest detail. She stared at the lick of dark hair across her dad’s forehead, hair that she and Lisa had most definitely inherited. Her mum looked so young and beautiful, holding her tenderly and with an expression on her face that spoke of so much promise.

  ‘Nine years..
.’ Anna shook her head. It seemed unbelievable that this healthy-looking young woman in her prime was only to have nine more measly years on the planet. ‘I wonder what you would have done differently if you’d known?’ she asked the laughing face with eyes not dissimilar to her own. ‘Probably nothing.’

  Finally she heard his key in the front door. ‘Come on, Griff, he’s home!’ She patted her thigh and raced into the hallway, to be greeted by a decidedly dishevelled husband.

  ‘Theo!’ She reached up and held him tight.

  ‘What’s up?’ He looked at her with alarm.

  ‘I’ve had a crazy day.’

  ‘Crazy good or bad?’

  ‘Good! Look at this.’ Without waiting for him to settle home, she handed him the picture, cradling the book to her chest.

  Theo pulled his head back to focus better.

  ‘It’s my mum and dad and me. Can you believe it? The only photograph of us all together, as far as I know, taken on the day I was born. Look how happy they are, look at my mum! She looks so young.’

  He scrutinised the image and took his time replying. ‘You look like both of them. I can see your facial shape in your father and you have your mother’s smile and her eyes, undoubtedly.’

  It was the perfect response. She loved that he was as interested in the picture as she was. ‘I am so happy to have it, and guess what?’

  He shook his head and shrugged, handing her back the photograph and slipping out of his suit jacket, which he hung on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘He’d hidden the picture in this.’ She held the book out on straightened arms. ‘The Jungle Book. He kept it by the side of his bed and as soon as Lisa mentioned it, I remembered that I’d had a copy too. Mine had a green cloth jacket just like this and my mum used to read bits of it to me. I just know he gave it to me. My mum used to get upset reading it and I could never understand why. But now it all makes sense.’ She rushed forward and kissed him on the mouth with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. ‘Don’t you think it’s wonderful?’

  ‘If that’s the reaction I’m going to get, then yes, I think it’s wonderful.’ He laughed. ‘What happened to your copy?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t know where any of my stuff went, not that I had anything of value, just little bits and bobs and a few books, toys and whatnot. I know Joe sold lots of our things to get drugs.’ She saw him flinch at this casual reminder of their very different worlds. ‘And when I went to stay with my aunt and uncle, I suppose the landlord must have cleared out the flat. Can’t blame him. It seems a shame, now I’m older, but at the time I didn’t give it a second thought.’

  ‘That’s really sad.’ He kissed her hair.

  ‘I suppose it is. I am so, so happy to have this – you have no idea.’ She again cradled the precious talisman to her chest. ‘And I made supper.’ She turned around, heading for the kitchen.

  ‘A welcome hug and supper? It’s my lucky night, which is good because today’s been anything but lucky.’ He grabbed a beer from the fridge and twisted the cap with his fingers. ‘It’s been bloody awful.’

  She noted the tension in his back, the way he looked up to the ceiling and sighed, as if digesting bad news. It concerned her, but not as much as his furtive air. ‘Why so awful?’ Anna pulled the pie from the bottom oven and carried it to the table ready for serving.

  Theo sat in his preferred chair and loosened his tie, petting Griff’s snout with his free hand. ‘Oh, Dad not listening to a very sound business proposal. It makes me so mad how dismissive he is. I just want to do something good with all this money that’s sloshing around, you know? Use it to try and make a difference.’

  ‘I know you do, honey.’ They had had this conversation a thousand times and she was right behind him. She loved him all the more because of his social conscience and the way he never acted as if he was entitled to what he had. Theo was adamant that he should use his privileged position to try and do something positive for those less fortunate than himself, but his dad was categorically against this. It was a running battle between them.

  ‘I’ve had this idea to renovate this old warehouse in Bristol into studios. It’s perfect, red brick and beautiful. And it would be just right as a sort of halfway house for young adults coming out of care. Like when you came out of Mead House and needed somewhere to go.’ He glanced up at her and she nodded back, full of love for him and his big heart. ‘I’ve worked it all out. They could live there while they find their feet. I’ve had a chat with a woman from Bristol council and she said it was just the sort of venture they’d be interested in supporting. And it’s not as if we won’t get our money back – it’ll just take a bit longer than with some of our other projects. That part of Bristol is ripe for development and once it’s renovated, the place will be a massive asset for the company. It’s a win-win. But no, he isn’t interested. No doubt if it was anyone else coming up with the suggestion, he’d leap on it.’

  ‘It sounds like a wonderful idea. My friend Shania would have loved the chance to go somewhere like that. You remember – the friend I told you about?’

  ‘Yes, I remember of course.’ He shook off his jacket. ‘I was thinking of her, actually. And you.’

  Anna’s tears pooled at the memory of her last sighting of Shania, homeless and using. She sniffed. ‘Having somewhere to go might have stopped her from... losing it. It breaks my heart, thinking of her out there somewhere. Such a different life to the one I wanted for her.’

  ‘If only wishing was all it took.’ He walked over, ran his thumb over her cheek and kissed her lightly, before making his way to the table.

  ‘Yep, if only.’

  ‘I just wish my dad wasn’t so predictable. It’s like he’s constantly trying to goad me. Plus he’s hired this girl at work and she’s...’

  Anna held the dishcloth in her hand and paused, disliking the squeeze of discomfort in her chest, before going to fetch the mash from the stove top. ‘She’s what?’ she asked softly, taking in his expression, the reddening of his cheek, the glaze to his eyes.

  ‘She’s...’ Theo filled his cheeks and exhaled, exasperated. He banged his beer bottle onto the tabletop. ‘I don’t know how to describe her apart from bloody annoying!’

  She took her time at the Aga, collecting herself. Call it sixth sense, call it intuition, but there was something in the way that this girl bothered him that bothered her.

  Don’t be silly, Anna, she’s a girl and he is home, home with you and today is a wonderful, wonderful day...

  *

  With supper finished and the dishes abandoned in the sink, the two sat on the deep sofa, staring at the fire that crackled in the hearth. As ever, it held them captive. The smoky scents and the pop and hiss of logs evoked an outdoorsy life Anna had never known, but it still made her think of forests, soil, seeds and fecundity.

  Theo leant back into the soft cushions with his eyes closed and his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. ‘I can feel you smiling next to me.’ He spoke warmly.

  ‘I can’t help it! I keep thinking about my lovely photograph and that book. Oh, Theo, that book – I love that his hands have touched it and that it obviously meant something to him.’ She curled her legs up beneath her and snuggled closer to her husband, resting her head on his shoulder.

  Theo gave a low, slow hum. She recognised this as his pre-doze state, when to speak felt like too much effort.

  ‘I feel sad for my parents. I could never say this to Lisa, obviously, but it’s awful, isn’t it? They both knew they’d met the love of their life, but they couldn’t do anything about it because Dad was already committed and didn’t have a way of escaping without causing hurt and damage to a whole group of people.’

  ‘Going from what Lisa told you about the T-shirt ripping, I’d say some damage had already been done.’ He yawned.

  Anna nodded. ‘Yep, I think that’s true. But what rotten bloody luck. They say you can’t help who you fall in
love with. And I can’t help but think how different my life would have been if they’d been able to stay together. Losing my mum would have been just as crap, obviously, but at least I’d have had my dad. And maybe he would have been able to help Joe too... It’s made me wonder, Theo, what things were like for the baby your dad fathered, for Alexander. I hope he’s having a good life...’

  Theo patted her thigh with a hand that grew increasingly heavy.

  ‘Did you hear me, Theo?’

  ‘I did, but I literally can’t think about that right now.’

  She watched his eyes close, as if he was willing her words to stop.

  ‘And it makes me think, Theo, what wouldn’t my mum have given to be in my position, with a man she loves and in a beautiful home? What wouldn’t Shania give to have all the opportunities that we have?’ She inhaled and briefly closed her eyes too, drawing courage to speak the words that were waiting in her mouth, bumping against her teeth and sneaking around her gums, trying to find the courage to leap out. ‘My mum was brave, she had a baby in the most difficult circumstances. No money, no partner, no support, but it didn’t stop her, Theo.’

  ‘Oh please, Anna.’ He sat up, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. ‘Not this again.’

  ‘Yes.’ She twisted sideways to face him on the sofa. ‘This again. What did you think, that it’s just going to go away? Because it isn’t. I see how much you love coming home to Griff and it makes me think about you becoming a dad and my biggest fear is that I am running out of time!’ She cursed the desperate tone to her voice. ‘I don’t want to run out of time.’ She repeated, more softly now, the admission painful.

  ‘I can’t keep up. One minute you tell me I am enough, that we are enough, and I feel things have settled, but then you jump right back to this.’

  She heard the sharp edge of irritation in his words, slashing the cosy, happy, post-supper feeling that had wrapped around them like a warm blanket only seconds before. Griff, as if disturbed by the change of mood, stood and walked to his basket in the kitchen.

  ‘I can’t help it. I guess it’s because I can’t believe...’ She paused, rethinking her phrasing. ‘Or, more accurately, my heart and mind can’t accept that what you’re saying is final. I hope, pray that you will have this lightbulb moment when your doubts and worries disappear so that we can just go for it.’