by Lucy Coleman
‘But Liam is your son and you brought him up lovingly, because, as much as you might have fallen out, he cares about you. So why couldn’t you love me?’
Valerie virtually collapses back against the cushions, her eyes flicker shut and for a moment I wonder whether she has fainted.
‘Liam is my stepson. His birth mother died several years before I married his father, Jeffery.’
‘So, if what you are saying is true, you left Dad and me and started over again, guilt-free. Then you managed to love and care for someone else’s son while pushing away all thoughts of your own flesh and blood?’ My words are full of the bitterness that begins to well up inside me. Valerie gave Liam all the love a child requires and doted on him. He never once referred to her as his stepmum, only his mum, and his only complaint was that he felt overprotected. ‘And Liam obviously has no idea about our connection.’ I can’t bring myself to spell it out.
‘No. And I appreciate how it might look, but I didn’t take Liam away from his father. We had shared custody and Liam regularly stayed with Jeffery, but he wasn’t a man who could cope with the constant needs of a child.’
‘My father coped, and I had constant needs.’
I see Valerie flinch and I can tell how painful this is to hear. But why should I sit here feeling sorry for her?
Tears trickle down my face, but I want to hear what she has to say. Even though there’s a numbness deep inside me.
‘You deserve an explanation, Immi, at the very least. Almost immediately after Sean drove us home from the hospital, it was clear something was very wrong with me. The local doctor dismissed it as baby blues. For some women there is a condition that comes on quickly after the birth. It wasn’t as talked about thirty years ago, or as well understood as it is now. It’s a hormonal imbalance, which causes moods swings and, in my case, anxiety. But it didn’t go away as it was supposed to do, and it got progressively worse. I was convinced you weren’t safe in my hands and at one point was too afraid to even pick you up. I didn’t trust myself, not that I would ever have harmed you – it wasn’t like that. I loved you so very much, but I was petrified every time you cried. Was it something I was doing wrong, I wondered, or was I just a total failure as a mother not being able to soothe my own baby? To the extent that Sean insisted we move in with Nell and Tollie for a while, as he didn’t know what else to do. He was working away a fair bit, at that point.
‘I barely knew what time of the day it was, let alone how to cope with a fretful young baby who was picking up on my anxiety. Much later a psychologist explained that what I was probably suffering from was post-partum depression. It triggered a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder for a while and when it came to looking after my stepson, Sean, I couldn’t let him out of my sight. There was no such thing as normal for me, given the level of guilt I carry for the suffering I caused.’
She pauses, not looking at me to register my reaction at all. This isn’t something she’s rehearsed, that’s obvious.
‘My dad was a good man, with a good heart. His life revolved around family and a job he loved doing. I know he wouldn’t have given up on you, he wasn’t like that. You gave up on us, Valerie, and that was your choice.’
She sighs and it comes from deep down within her. A cold, desperate sound.
‘I wasn’t me any more; there were times I didn’t want to live, as I could see how I was hurting everyone around me. In pain, mentally, I was overwhelmed with guilt and feelings of abject failure. So, I ran away when you were three months old. Eventually, my mother tracked me down, just in time to save me from doing something stupid.’
My jaw drops a little as I stare at her.
‘You thought about taking your own life?’
She doesn’t acknowledge my question, as she continues.
‘My mother was a very practical woman, thank God. I went to live with my parents in Dartmouth, until we had a proper diagnosis, and spent the next few years of my life as a waitress in their little tea shop. The nature of the illness I had is that I have little recollection of what happened. And no knowledge at all about the period shortly after I left. Tollie continues to honour his promise to Sean, to leave the past alone, and I respect him for that. Although I know it hasn’t been easy for him. Perhaps my imaginings are worse, but I doubt it. I robbed you, my baby girl, of what you deserved – a loving mother to share the happiness and the tears, to be a constant in your world.
‘I grieve, still, for the life that feels as if it was stolen from me and yet I did that, so I’m the only one to blame.’
I’m horrified as I listen to her rambling dialogue. It’s as if Valerie is unaware that I’m here, and she’s speaking only to herself.
How can they have kept this from me? Would I have done the same thing if I’d been in that situation?
‘But Dad and I came to stay with Tollie and Grandma a couple of times every year. Why was nothing said after you’d moved back?’
‘A part of the deal I made with Nell was that I stayed away whenever you were here. Our paths were not to cross – Sean made that very clear. He said you’d been through enough and that was his way of protecting you. I had forfeited any rights I had, and I knew that. But they could see that it was important to me to know you were doing well and there was no intention on my part to interfere. Just being here was enough.’
‘Did Dad know the whole story?’
She nods her head and a sharp pain stabs at my chest.
‘Yes. He wouldn’t agree to a meeting, but I sat down with Nell and she told him everything.’
My mind is frantically trying to piece it all together, but there’s little information to grasp onto. I remember what Liam said, that Valerie was constantly looking over his shoulder and checking on him. What she’d been through had left scars, as deep as my own.
‘So why tell me this now?’
I realise I know nothing at all about the woman sitting in front of me, a person I’d trusted and grown close to in good faith, as a neighbour and friend. How can I trust anything she tells me now?
‘I’m living a lie and I won’t hurt you all over again. I had no idea this would happen, I swear, Immi, and I know that Tollie is beside himself, unsure of what to do for the best.’
Has he been living in fear of the day I discovered the truth?
‘Jack is totally unaware of my real identity,’ she continues. ‘I know what his reaction will be when I tell him, but as I’ve grown closer to you I find I can’t hold onto my secret any longer. Jack and I do have a special rapport, both feeling there is something missing from our lives. I know that telling you the truth will jeopardise that new friendship, but when I saw how much you were hurting on Christmas Day, I hated myself for my part in that, even more than I already do. I will never forgive myself and I have absolutely no right to plan any future happiness that could cause upset to you, Immi.
‘You regard Jack as your second dad, and that role means so much to him. If I leave Aysbury now, Jack will get over it sooner, rather than later. I thought I could honour my promise to keep my distance from you, but Sean underestimated the size of your heart. Or your affinity with wounded souls.’
We sit quietly for a little while, motionless, and I’m not sure what to say, or do.
Valerie suddenly rises up from the sofa and before she makes her exit she pulls a small envelope from her pocket, placing it on the coffee table. Even after I hear the front door click shut behind her, I don’t move.
I don’t even know how I feel, or how to react to a story I could never have imagined. I’ve never felt as alone, or bewildered, as I do right now.
28
Love Has the Power to Change Everything
It’s late afternoon and Rona and Gray will have boarded their flight to the States by now. Gray rang a couple of hours’ ago, trying his best to be cheerful, but the effort required for me to sound upbeat and pretend everything is fine here has taken a toll.
I stare at the clock. Fewer than ten minutes have e
lapsed since the last time I checked. Clock watching isn’t going to make time speed up. They don’t land until early evening US time but it will be the early hours of tomorrow morning, here in the UK. Gray’s father is collecting them from the airport, so that will be a rather stressful journey. They will probably all go for a meal and then have an early night, as Rona and Gray will be shattered. Physically and emotionally, by that point, I shouldn’t doubt.
I’m feeling miserable and lonely. And now I’m feeling unwell — coughing and unable to stop my nose from running. At first I thought it was from the tears I shed when Valerie was here, but I’m definitely coming down with a cold. There’s little point lying on the sofa feeling sorry for myself. Sitting bolt upright, I ease myself up and head straight for the bathroom to find some eucalyptus oil to help me breathe more easily. The face staring back at me in the bathroom cabinet mirror is pale and blotchy. It’s clear I’m running a temperature, even though I feel cold and clammy.
What I need is a cup of hot, sweet, tea.
‘I’m glad you’re here, Bert.’ As I walk back into the open-plan area it has never seemed so vast and empty. But I’m not alone, Bert is on patrol and keeping an eye out.
‘It’s quiet without Gray here, isn’t it?’
I have no idea why I phrased that as a question, and a sigh catches in my throat at how dejected I sound. However, the angle of his head as he stands watching over the garden is strangely reassuring.
I fill the kettle, then yank things out of the cupboards; eventually I carry a little tray across to the coffee table. I console myself with the thought that it’s fine to spoil yourself when you’re feeling poorly.
Bert looks as if he needs a pat, so I saunter over to him and we both gaze out. The snow is melting fast – only the huge mounds we made shovelling paths are taking their time to thaw.
All my life I longed to know who my mother was, to know what she looked like and to demand to know what reason she could possibly have had to walk away from Dad and me. This was right versus wrong and there are no excuses. There were no excuses. Or so I thought. The story Valerie told me was not the one I was expecting to hear, at all.
A key in the front door makes my heart sink. I told Tollie not to bother looking in on me after his busy day at Turnpike Cottage. Turning around, one hand leaning on Bert’s sturdy back for support, I compose my face.
‘Gray!’
The man I love more than life itself rushes over to me, sweeping me up into his arms and showering the top of my head with kisses. As he lowers me to the floor, surveying the tip of my bright red nose, which is smothered in moisturiser, he raises his eyebrows.
‘You’re poorly? Oh, my lovely Immi. Come on, sit down and drink your tea before you fall down.’
He’s right, I’m clinging onto him as if my life depends upon it. He helps me over to the sofa and gently lowers me down. I open my mouth and the questions come out in a stream.
‘What are you doing here? What went wrong? Was the flight cancelled? Is Rona okay?’
‘Nothing is wrong,’ he replies, sounding tired, but not anxious. ‘I will need to grab a coffee first, though. It was quite a day and a long, wearisome journey back in heavy traffic.’
Picking up my mug and placing it firmly in my hands, he walks over to the kitchen and I sit sipping tea to help calm my nerves and ease my sore throat. I need the few minutes’ silence to calm my racing thoughts.
Watching his back, I find it hard to believe I’m not imagining this, and I’m fearful of blinking my eyes in case he disappears. My brow is a little feverish, but he’s definitely real.
‘Waiting around meant Mum and I could have a good chat and she could see I’m not ready to meet up with my father yet. The timing isn’t right because I just want to be with you. When I explained how I was feeling to Mum, she hugged me close and said, “Go. Be with Immi and take some time for yourselves – I’ll be fine,” and I knew she would be.’
Gray walks over to sit down next to me and we roll into each other, sinking back against the cushions.
‘But your father…’
‘He can wait a while longer. When I fly over, you will be by my side. In future we face our fears together.’
My heart sinks in my chest. Gray has no idea what’s happened with Valerie. But he’s here and he will never know quite how much I needed to see him today.
‘Sometimes facing one’s fears isn’t quite as bad as we imagine it will be.’ My voice sounds small in the cavernous hollow of the room.
Gray frowns. ‘No? Well, that’s encouraging. It did worry me a little when I texted you earlier on and didn’t get a reply, I will say.’
I blink, looking sideways at him. ‘But I responded. I was phone-watching,’ I admit.
Gray stands, pulling his mobile from his pocket before lowering himself back down to sit on the edge of the sofa.
‘Oh, the battery is dead. I’ll drink this and dig out my lead. Now snuggle back and I’ll put on a DVD. It’s time someone waited on you, for a change.’
I shake my head at everything he holds up for approval, as I don’t fancy a romantic comedy and I’m most definitely not in the mood for anything scary. My head is whirling, and I need time to gather my thoughts before I decide exactly what I’m going to tell Gray.
‘Maybe a series, then. Poldark?’ Gray jiggles the DVD box around, waving it temptingly in the air.
‘Perfect.’
‘Perfect?’
‘Well, Aidan Turner is perfect.’ I giggle; the joy of having Gray here changes everything. Even my cold doesn’t feel quite so draining.
‘Is he, now? I’m thinking maybe this is not quite the right programme for my fiancée, then.’ As much as he’s complaining, he still pops the disc into the slot, before covering me up with a throw.
‘And here’s a glass of water. You need to keep hydrated. I’ll unpack my bag, but no fawning over that actor – I’ll be keeping an eye on you.’
He casts me a stern look and I suck in my bottom lip, trying not to laugh as he teases me.
In the background, he hums as he places the mugs into the dishwasher and then I cosy up as he takes his bags upstairs to begin unpacking. As I blow my nose rather noisily, a trip to Cornwall seems like the perfect thing to calm my troubled mind.
It isn’t long before I hear Gray shouting out at the top of his voice as he clatters, noisily, down the stairs. He rushes through the door with his phone in his hand and his eyes wide.
‘My phone started pinging like mad the minute I plugged in the charger! Read this – start at the top and work down.’ He forces his phone into my hands as I stare at him, rather puzzled.
There is a string of three texts from Oliver Harding, all sent this morning.
Hey Gray, my email keeps getting rejected, it says your inbox is full? Re-sending it now for the fifth time. You haven’t committed to another project, have you?
* * *
I’ve left several voice mails. I really, really need to speak to you asap, Gray – you’re the man for the job and I’m in trouble if I don’t sign you up, mate.
* * *
Me again. Sorry for the garbled messages. Just phone me as soon as you can. Thanks, Gray.
‘You got the job and the girl!’
I hand the phone back to him and he stands there looking at me as if he can’t believe it. ‘I spent some time while I was at the airport clearing my inbox of old messages. I had no idea it was full, though.’
‘Well, ring the man, then, and put him out of his misery.’
The look that passes between us goes from shock to ecstasy in a split second and Gray starts punching the air.
‘Whoop! I did it!’
Wrapping me in his arms, Gray pulls the duvet a little higher, then reaches over to tuck it neatly along the side of my body.
‘You’re going to catch my germs; you do know that?’ I groan as he leans in to plant another kiss on my lips.
‘What’s yours is mine, germs and all. This commitm
ent lark works both ways.’
I start laughing and he lies there, staring up at the ceiling and humming another of the endless tunes he has rolling around inside that head of his.
‘I like that idea. And what’s yours is mine… Mr Musical Composer for a sci-fi film who is about to earn a fortune.’
That makes us both chuckle. The first film may come with a modest cheque attached to it, but if all goes well it’s goodbye doggy food ad jingles – my talented fiancé is spreading his wings and about to fly.
‘One day I’ll achieve my dream as a songwriter and a composer, but it all starts here, Immi.’
Gray rather dramatically holds up his hands in the darkness, spreading them out as if it’s a screen, and begins to hum the opening bars to the piece that will accompany the film title and credits.
‘Dah, dah, dah-dah, da-da-da-da-da, d-a-h, d-a-h, d-a-h…’ It’s thrilling to think that at some point we will be sitting in a cinema somewhere, watching in awe and checking the reaction on the faces of the people around us.
He lays on the tense atmosphere with staccato notes and then his voice softens as the lighter notes ripple up and down the scale.
‘Imagine the blackness of outer space…’ his words are low ‘… and then a craft comes into view. Inside, are ten people whose lives are about to change forever. They are going to discover something that will save the world.’
‘Stop! Don’t tell me how it ends. I want to savour that when I see the—’ I let out the loudest explosive sneeze, only just managing to get a tissue out of my sleeve to catch it in the final second ‘—film in full, on the big screen.’
‘Oh dear, you are suffering, aren’t you? My poor darling.’
He rolls over to look at me and I hold my face away a little, not wanting to breathe on him.
‘I really don’t want you catching this, so please keep your distance.’
He looks at me, shaking his head.
