I opened its lid. There, nestled inside the tissue paper, was an enormous silver crucifix. Its thin chain was folded back, as if it had fallen to lie peacefully by the side of the cross.
‘Oh, it’s beautiful! Thank you.’
‘I got that for you. I know how you like Irish things. I’ve missed every one of your birthdays and Christmases. I’ve never had the chance to buy you anything before,’ she said.
I put my hand up to my neck to touch the tiny Celtic cross that my mum Paula had bought for me, the one I always wore.
‘It’s lovely. Thank you,’ I said again.
I placed the new Marie cross round my neck and held up my hair whilst she fastened the clasp for me. She turned me around to have a look, holding onto my shoulders, taking a step back.
‘You look beautiful in that. You’re a good looking girl – all my daughters are lovely.’ She smiled, pleased that her purchase was correct.
Unfortunately, the cross was so heavy I could hardly stand up straight. I staggered over to the sofa, sitting down quickly next to Helena, with the crucifix threatening to impale me. It felt ridiculous to be wearing two crosses, but I couldn’t bring myself to take off the cross from Mum – I wasn’t trying to impersonate Madonna.
‘I made you some breakfast, Dervla. It’s keeping warm in the oven.’ Marie disappeared into the kitchen and Vernon grinned over at me from his chair by the telly.
‘No good arguing with her, she’s been up for hours getting you your breakfast,’ he said.
A plate of scrambled eggs, made for me by my mother, what could be simpler? And yet… I was about to attempt to eat the scrambled egg when Carla staggered in through the back door, her two children trailing behind.
‘You can just stop with the keeping on at me, Keiron, my back’s killin’ me. I drank so much last night I think I’ve permanently damaged me kidneys so I can’t play football. NO! Go and ask Grandad Vernon.’
‘How are you, Carla?’ I asked.
‘Oh Jesus,’ she groaned, ‘I’m crap, love, thanks.’
Before we even left Marie’s house to make for the train station, they’d managed to lose one of the grandchildren – Carla’s child Jed, who was just eighteen months old. Carla leapt into action. Abandoning her previous lethargic state, lying face-down on the sofa rubbing her back, she was up and out the door as soon as the cry went up that Jed was missing. The entire family became hysterical. They rushed back and forth in a long line past the house, looking like they were about to start the conga. On their third fly past I noticed some neighbours had also joined the line to help. Raised voices and talk of calling the police floated through the window. I longed to be back on the tiny farm where there was peace and quiet, where there were people I knew how to handle. Home suddenly seemed even further away.
I crept into the bedroom to find Jed hiding beside the bed, playing with his toy cars. The tiny red and blue vehicles were laid out in a line. He was concentrating hard, getting them into exactly the right positions. I stole a hug from his solid little body, and kissed the black hair at the nape of his neck, just at the place where the curls touched his skin. Then I gave the game away.
At the train station, Marie was all over me, reaching out to embrace me. She took my face in her hands, planted a kiss on my lips. That, I suppose, is a mother’s prerogative. I was now covered in lipstick, like a child. I half expected her to moisten a hanky to wipe the corners of my mouth, like mums do. But this mum hadn’t had the chance before, and she didn’t have permission now.
‘When you next visit… I’m not nagging, I know you’re busy… I want to take some time off work, see you properly and for longer. How long do you think you’ll be able to stay for? The whole weekend? Could that Will of yours look after Sasha again, or could they come too?’
‘I’m not sure.’
I was under no illusion that I could have a quick look at Marie then just disappear, I was already entangled. There was so much to know about these new people who had been catapulted into my life. Other meetings had already been arranged. Apparently, most of Ireland was set to arrive on our doorstep over the coming months. I was going to have to go along with it all. How cruel it would be to fade into the future now – I couldn’t do it.
On the train home, as soon as Marie’s waving hand was out of sight, and when I had caught the last of the blown kisses, I had a longing to phone my mum, Paula. I waited until we were well out of Sheffield; I needed to leave the past behind me, to let the last twenty-four hours settle.
‘Mum.’
‘Dizzy? My darling, are you okay?’
‘Thank God you’re there. Thank you for all that you’ve done.’
What I said came from the heart; my mum had done the hard work. And now I knew she’d be impatient to hear how everything had gone. It said much about her that she’d given her blessing to the meeting with Marie in the first place. She was just pleased that I’d been given the chance to see where I’d come from. She’d been unselfish – had remained unflinching in her support. Even though this was undoubtedly hard for her, she never let it show. Throughout our lives, she’d always done anything she could to help Ellis and me. Over the past few weeks, both my mum and Will’s mum had phoned frequently for updates on how my big adventure was progressing.
In six short months I had acquired an entire new family. I had managed to meet my birth father, Tommy, discovered that my birth mother, Marie, was alive, and had also met my half-siblings. And yet, this journey was only just beginning. Now my family at home had a whole new collection of people to get used to. It had been arranged that my mum would meet Marie in a few months time. At that moment, speaking to her on the phone, I decided that mothers would go through anything when it came to their children. Even if they didn’t know them.
Chapter 17
Tommy and the quad convoy
As I got to know more about Tommy, it became clear that he was someone who was always having adventures. On his next one, he told me, he and a friend were to ride their quad bikes to Cornwall, each with a passenger, starting from his home near Hawes in Yorkshire. Tommy was going to take along a disabled friend, Peter. As Peter had a prosthetic leg, Tommy had adapted the quad to make it as comfortable as possible for him to manage the trip riding pillion.
We knew they would be passing near to our house on the way, so Will and I weren’t surprised when we received a telephone call from Tommy one evening. But what we were surprised about was another member of the party.
‘Can we pop in, chuck? I’d like you to meet my son.’
‘Simon or Martin?’ I asked.
‘No, Dizzy. There’s another one – Nick. He was born before you…’
I didn’t reply. After a long and awkward pause, Tommy carried on as if he’d read my thoughts.
‘I didn’t tell you about him before. You see we were only reunited a couple of years ago.’
Our genetic pool was obviously far reaching.
‘We could pop in tomorrow evening?’
*
But Sasha and I were to meet the quad convoy earlier than planned. We were returning from the annual school photo session with Merlin in tow. As Sasha didn’t have any human siblings, he’d gone down to the school to be photographed too. It was, after all, perfectly normal for our family to consider a dog to be as much a member of the family as any human. Even though the headmistress had given Merlin a withering look and muttered something unfriendly about me insisting on breaching the school’s Health and Safety policy, she’d let him in.
Merlin had had a doubly successful day. Firstly, he managed to stand still while Sasha gave an afternoon assembly to her class mates about rescue greyhounds. I was slightly surprised at his new, calm approach. I sat in the corner of the school hall, unable to relax in case he had a relapse, and watched him showing off for all of the children and behaving impeccably. I hadn’t put him down as a dog t
hat liked an audience, but given his recent dramas it shouldn’t have been such a surprise.
Secondly, he posed for the camera like an old pro while the school photographer squeaked a toy “to get the greyhound’s ears up”. The toy was the alarming part; it would have challenged the canine composure of most dogs. But there was no need to be on edge: the village school children were made up to meet Merlin, and he revelled in all the fuss, graciously allowing himself to be patted by forty tiny hands.
While Merlin was off all medication, I was still in need of some – the last few months of interaction with my new family had left me decidedly shaky. So, initially, I thought that a new herbal range at Boots that promised a new calm you was a bit of a find. A display board showed pictures of serene-looking people standing in fields of poppies, with the sun shining. I obediently took these new wonder tablets daily after the discovery of my birth family, with no calming affect that Will or I had noticed.
So, an accidental early meeting in a lay-by with Tommy was the last thing I needed. It was only as a hasty chat, because as soon as Merlin spotted the bike he started licking our car window in an attempt to break free, but in the short time we had, Tommy disclosed that Peter wouldn’t be coming over to our house as planned with the rest of them. Earlier that day, he had lost his prosthetic leg somewhere in Somerset. It had fallen off the quad bike and run away.
I cornered Tommy when we were out of earshot of the others.
‘It would have been good to know there was another sibling. It was a shock you telling us only yesterday, then just turning up with him,’ I said.
Tommy met my gaze.
‘Why do you keep holding back information?’ I asked.
‘Well,’ Tommy replied, ‘I keep thinking it must be a bit much for you all.’
‘It’s a bit much when you turn up with a half-brother out of the blue,’ I told him. ‘Look, I’ll see you later – seven o’clock. You’ve got the postcode. Don’t be late!’
I drove Sasha and the window-licking Merlin home, stomped into the house and rang my mother.
‘You wouldn’t fancy fish and chips would you, Mum? It’s just that Tommy’s arriving here tonight and I thought it would be a good chance for you to meet him.’
‘Yes, all right – we’ll come over. We’ve had tea, but Al can always manage more, though I can’t tolerate fried food, as you know. Is everything okay, Diz?’
‘Um, well, Tommy’s coming here, but not just him, he’s bringing one of his mates and another half-brother that I didn’t know about called Nick. Would you like to meet them, Mum?’
‘You know I would. I’ve always wondered whether there were more.’
So, that evening poor Peter was left in a hotel room, while Tommy, plus mystery half-brother Nick, made their way to our house for fish and chips.
Nick was the spit of Tommy, and also very affable. He had been born eighteen months before me, but hadn’t been reunited with Tommy until a couple of years ago. Even so, they seemed to have developed a great friendship, and saw each other often. I started to wonder if there could in fact be even more Tommy offspring roaming the country, seeking out fun. According to Tommy, all his children seemed to like taking off and having adventures.
Mum’s silver car arrived promptly, creeping almost silently down the driveway, without a fuss. My mum and my step-dad, Al, made it look like they’d just popped in. Tommy was sitting on the seat in our front garden. He made the first move, jumping to his feet immediately and extending a hand. But my mum did all the talking, she chattered on and on and soon she overwhelmed him.
‘I’ll just take these bags into the kitchen, Tommy – see you in a minute,’ she said. ‘You chat to Tommy, Al,’ she instructed my step-dad. Then she shot me “The Look”. This was my cue.
She made her way swiftly into the house, with me obediently following. She didn’t waste much time before she had me cornered in the kitchen. Warming her hands by laying them across the lids of the Rayburn, she started muttering in a stage whisper. With exaggerated lip movements, she made it known to me that she was less than impressed with the treatment and abandonment of Peter.
‘What’s Tommy done with him? Poor man. I think it’s terrible.’
‘I think Peter wanted to wait at the hotel. He’s tired, Mum. And anyway, it’s none of our business.’
‘How can they have lost his leg? It’s not very caring,’ she went on.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Perhaps they didn’t strap it on properly.’
‘Haven’t they got a spare?’
‘Mum, how many people do you know who carry a spare leg?’
‘I don’t know about that, but I’ve never met anyone like Tommy, that’s for sure. I don’t know what to make of it all, and who’s that man with him again?’
‘My half-brother Nick, apparently. He was born before me. Tommy didn’t bring him up either, they were only reunited a couple of years ago.’
‘Well, I can see that he’s the spitting image of his dad, but I can’t say he looks anything like you. And who was his mother, I wonder?’
She edged closer to me, still resting her elbows on the Rayburn lids, her back against its cosy, reassuring presence. She whispered more loudly than was wise when you’re trying not to be overheard by people in the garden.
‘How many children do you think Tommy has?’
‘Mother, please!’
Mum bit her bottom lip. She didn’t say any more. We sat in the garden that evening eating our chips, all chatting away – all except Mum who was obviously distracted – probably worried about the enigma that was Peter. She kept looking at her watch and sighing. When Tommy finally said they should get back to the hotel, she looked visibly relieved. I knew she was hiding her true feelings. I knew, too, that she wouldn’t be able to contain her concern for much longer. One of her advice notes was sure to arrive over the next few days – she wouldn’t be able to stop herself.
I stood with her at the gate, waving everyone away. The noise of the quad engines got quieter and quieter as they disappeared down the hill and out of view. We stood there until we could no longer hear them. Then we stood some more, just in case they should come back.
‘It’s none of my business, but…’
‘Not now, Mum.’
‘Sorry, it’s just…’
‘No,’ I said, holding up my hand. ‘I’m going in now. I need a cigarette, and a glass of wine, a large glass that has a cork in the top.’
But I knew that we hadn’t heard the last of this.
Early the next morning, just when I thought it was safe to carry on with my less-than-normal life, I was woken up by Merlin going ballistic. The quad convoy was back again and roaring down the drive; this time, Peter was in tow.
‘Just dropping in to have a cuppa and bid farewell,’ Tommy reassured me.
‘Yes, right, tea then…’
‘We’ll have it outside, if that’s all right,’ said Tommy. ‘It’s exhausting for Peter to have to keep being moved on and off the bike.’
I put the kettle on and fussed about in the kitchen, setting out mugs, milk and sugar on a tray and tried to pacify Merlin with bone-shaped treats to distract him from glaring out of the window and growling.
It was difficult to get through the front door with all the tea things, while keeping Merlin back. My commands for him to stay were clearly in a language that was foreign to him.
‘Stay!’
Merlin pushed his long nose through the gap between my leg and the door frame. He wiggled it to open the gap further and reached out his front leg to scratch the tiny space wider.
‘STAY!’
I rushed up the garden path towards the quad bikers, managing to spill most of the tea. The milk splashed over into the sugar bowl.
‘Have you got a spoon please, chuck?’ Tommy asked.
So I went back into
the house to fetch him a spoon, leaving Peter with his half mug of tea. Although pale, he looked chipper, reposing on the bike in the early morning sunshine. I was glad to see he was properly strapped onto the quad. I would report this good news to my mother later – she was going to be delighted to hear that he still had the one good leg.
‘How many miles have we got to cover today?’ asked Nick.
‘More than we’ll manage,’ said Tommy, folding up the map. ‘We ought to be getting on our way. Next stop is Bodmin for brunch.’
Tommy climbed onto the quad. I bent down to kiss his cheek, feeling sad all over again that he was leaving once more.
‘Remember, whatever else you do, have fun, Dizzy,’ Tommy yelled above the noise of the revving bikes. He rammed on his crash helmet, fastened the strap and nodded to the others.
Will came out from the forge to fold his arms across his chest in a gesture of bike appreciation that only the initiated could understand. He had his manly face on – a sort of half glare mixed with a smile that curled up only the one side of his mouth. He usually used it when he saw a digger or tractor. Then he nodded his head three times; not the full nod, but an inclination of acceptance.
At eight o’clock, the strange party rode off. After all the build-up I thought they’d roar off down the driveway in a cloud of bike smoke, but they barely broke two miles per hour. Two quads, four people, seven legs between them. They still had several hundred miles left to go on what was to be Peter’s last journey as sadly he died later that year.
‘Well, that’s another first,’ said Will. ‘I wonder what else might happen to them on the way to Cornwall?’
Merlin had to lie in a darkened room for a six-hour nap to get over the motorbike excitement. I thought about Tommy and the many assorted siblings, both real and imaginary, all day long, until my mother arrived with one of her “buy one, get one free” supermarket deals.
The offers were a ploy, of course – really she wanted to talk about Tommy. We often got a BOGOF deal in times of emergency. But she was strangely quiet compared with the previous evening. Perhaps she was hoping I would raise the subject of my rather strange relatives. I didn’t. She carefully placed the anticipated advice note on the dining room table and, as she left, she qualified it with a few of her stock phrases.
Strays and Relations Page 10
