by Laura Kemp
It was the first time she had seen Kate in action in her work environment. The patter came easily to her, she looked the part, smart-casual in a blue linen shirt dress with a drop-down necklace from which a silver heart-shaped locket hung. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders, unstraightened with big kinking waves. The tired gaze had gone: she was relaxed and fresh, as if she had ironed out the creases from her reunion with Jack and cancelling her wedding. Vee acknowledged coolly she was about to take it all away from her.
‘You were right. It is quite me,’ Vee said, smiling at the irony that Kate knew her so well and yet she did the very thing that she knew would hurt Vee the most.
‘Well, it’s the least I can do,’ she said, beaming.
Yes, it is, Vee thought, feeling her face harden.
‘I owe you because if it hadn’t been for you, I’d never have taken on my mother and— Are you okay? You look…’
‘I’m not here to view the flat, Kate,’ Vee said, suddenly tired of lies.
‘Oh, right. What's up?’
‘You and me.’
Kate felt for the windowsill behind her as if to steady herself. ‘In what way?’ she said, shaky.
Vee had considered how to say it: a tirade was unnecessary but neither could she be apologetic. Directness was the only way.
‘The letter.’
She waited for it to sink in, for Kate to understand. She flinched and shut her eyes.
‘Why didn’t you give it to Mikey?’ Vee said, her voice wobbling.
Kate began to shake her head as though she was refusing to go back. But Vee was insisting.
‘Because he was The One, Kate, you knew it, you made me wake up to it. Then you ruined it. Just like you did with Conor and travelling. Why?’ She was higher pitched now as her emotions were freed.
‘I’m so sorry, Vee, I am,’ Kate said, walking towards her. ‘There’s not been a day when I haven’t felt the guilt in my heart. Believe me.’ She clutched her chest as her eyes welled up, but Vee could not stop, she was immune to her sorry.
‘Why did you do it? That’s what I need to know. Because you had everything.’
‘Because I…’ Kate seemed to be assessing her explanation. ‘Look,’ she said, her shoulders crumpling, ‘I could say I did it to prevent you from heartache, that I had tried to save you, because Mikey was so very dark when I saw him, not at all the friend you thought he was.’
‘Don’t you think that was my right to find out?’
‘Yes, yes, I do. I could say I tried to protect you, but… I didn’t care. About you, about him. About myself. It was an awful mistake. I was ill. I was… how did you find out?’
‘Murphy.’
The colour drained from Kate’s face.
‘We were seeing each other.’ Vee almost enjoyed the revelation: to say, yes, you won, ultimately, but I had him for a while.
Kate held her head in her hands.
Vee felt a stab of victory, as if she’d taken some kind of revenge. She went for more. ‘I thought, this is it, it was worth the wait for him. We had just made love for the first time and then he told me. Hoping we could move on. But it’s tainted now. He said he loved me. But it’s over.’
Kate made a guttural noise from deep within.
Just then, a toilet flushed and Kate leapt back up straight, sniffing back her tears, wiping her face with the fingers and backs of her hand.
‘Who’s that?’ Vee said, looking around, unnerved by this interruption. Surely there wasn’t another viewer here?
‘Aunty Katieeee,’ came a voice. A child’s. Jumping feet.
‘It’s Griff,’ Kate said, quickly. ‘He threw up yesterday but school won’t let them go back for forty-eight hours in case it’s a bug. It was nothing. He was right as rain within five minutes. Charlie had to go in to work. I was able to bring him with me… he has his iPad…’ Then she added, ‘He doesn’t know anything yet’ as a warning, just as Griff landed with a leap into the room.
‘Hi,’ he said shyly to Vee, going to Kate.
He looked up from under his shaggy fringe straight at Vee.
And then with a frightening clarity, as if she’d been confused by an optical illusion and it had made sense, Vee saw it. The jut of his chin, the colour of his hair, skinny legs and a pair of cheekbones.
‘Oh my God,’ Vee said, backing off, feeling the floor sliding as Kate held up her hands and widened her eyes which were screaming at her to not say it, to save this little boy.
Her chest heaving, Vee understood he didn’t need to find out this way however Kate had behaved - it wasn’t his fault.
But with her face, Vee asked if it was true: if he was Murphy’s son?
She expected Kate to crumble.
But instead, she pulled Griff to her body, kissed his head and then gave a firm nod.
Vee got it: with that gesture, Kate was saying she didn’t care how this innocent had come into the world, she was proud of him and she loved him with all her might.
This was too complicated a battle to fight, Vee thought. There was never any ‘Murphy and me’, never.
‘I have to go…’
‘Griffy, have a play, will you?’
‘’Kay,’ he said, taking her mobile and plopping himself down in the square of sun on the floor.
‘Murphy doesn’t know,’ Vee whispered by the door.
‘No. I… I’m so sorry,’ she said, looking over her shoulder. ‘It was so long ago…’
But excuses were no good.
‘You have to tell him. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, with inevitability, ‘Please… forgive me.’
It was far too early for that, impossible to even go there.
‘If you want to make things okay, Kate,’ Vee said, feeling cold and shivery, as Kate hung on her word, ‘you have to tell him. I’ll text you his number.’
Then she left and Vee found herself crying for Murphy’s ignorance.
Chapter Twenty-Six
K
Charlie’s house, Lisvane, Cardiff
As Kate hugged Charlie, she felt the oceanic flow of their love, strength and unity passing between them. Their mother’s skewed devotion had never manifested itself emotionally or physically; this was how the sisters had filled the gap, depending on each other for touch and support.
This was why Griff’s place in their lives was to be celebrated, Charlie had said last night in the comfort of their smart Victorian semi in the leafy suburb of Lisvane as they’d prepped today’s chat with their little boy.
‘He saved you and I,’ she’d told Kate. ‘We were given someone to love and to cuddle.’ They had cried together, holding hands, as Kate had relayed the scene in the restaurant where she’d found out the reason for her mother’s distant determination. ‘This is why Griff needs to know he has two mums, that wherever he turns he will never want for love. And, Kate, you know, you gave me the greatest gift of all, motherhood.’
And this bond was what they shared now in each other’s arms in Charlie’s hallway.
‘Ready?’ Charlie asked Tom, who was wringing his hands in a sign of his own personal apprehension. Although he wholly agreed with telling Griff of his true beginnings, he had admitted that however selfish it made him, he was afraid of losing his son to an unknown quantity. Kate and Charlie had applauded his bravery to speak that out loud, but yes, it was different for him. The sisters were blood: not in competition for Griff’s affections but driven by the same need to keep him safe: Kate had given him up to the next best person. And she would never take him off her sister. But when the father was told, which Kate was dreading but could no longer avoid as she had done for so long and hoped to keep doing until Vee’s demand, there was no knowing how Murphy would respond.
There in Tom’s clean-shaven pinched face was his concern: Murphy’s involvement could affect his relationship with Griff.
Watching him nod that he was ready, Kate felt the terrible responsibility of dragging her sister and brother-i
n-law into this. For it would be her fault however Murphy reacted. The fact she’d hidden it from him for seven years. Mikey, well he had been loyal up to a point – but Murphy was a mystery: she feared a legal battle. Yet if Vee had had the capacity to fall in love with him, did that mean he was different now? That he would tread lightly and form a bond which didn’t threaten anyone but enriched Griff’s life.
The repercussions began to claw at her skin: Charlie reached out to both her and Tom with her hands, having read their minds. ‘Let’s do this, and this only, now. One step at a time.’
‘I’ll go and get him,’ Tom said, so decently, looking warily up the staircase before he sighed and regained his composure. He rolled up the sleeves of his rugby shirt and took the steps, asking ‘where’s that little monkey of mine?’
‘We’ll be in the lounge,’ Charlie said to him as they went in to the large room which was a shrine to Griff. The back third was his den: a personalized gaming chair faced a PlayStation where he’d thrash his dad at FIFA. French doors went out onto the garden so he and his friends could dash out when the whim took them. A bookcase featured kids’ classics and canvases of his art hung on two walls. The rest of the lounge may have been ‘for the grown-ups’ with its huge, deep sofas and wood burner, but still the surfaces were stuffed with photos of Griff with grandparents, of him blowing out candles and on holiday. Charlie and Tom had given him the very best, what Kate had been unable to give. There was always a lump in her throat when she saw the single picture on top of the mantelpiece of his sleeping newborn face: it had been taken in her arms, but now she looked at it with new eyes. He was coming back to her. They had it all planned.
Charlie sat on the sofa in ‘her seat’ beside a circle from Griff’s body, where he would curl up with her after his bath. Kate crossed her legs on the floor so she would be at his feet and Tom would be on the other side of Griff, protected by them all.
They had researched every which way to handle this: Charlie and Tom had friends in paediatric mental health whom they’d turned to and Kate had devoured official websites, family message boards and reams of conversation threads, working out the best way. They’d all come up with the same conclusion: be positive about the situation, keep it simple, be prepared for either a lot of immediate upset or a minimal reaction later followed by tears, anticipate questions he might have – and most of all, show him how much he is loved.
‘Boing, boing, boing,’ Griff said, bursting in with pogo bounces.
The last moment of his ignorance, Kate thought, aching for his innocence. Yet it didn’t have to be the end of his world: they were focused on making sure it would be a blossoming continuation of the stability he’d had.
Charlie would take the lead because she was his mother – and would forever be.
‘Come here, boingy boingy,’ she said, making a playful grab for him, which made him shriek.
Griff darted over with his arms open and started chatting away about Minecraft and servers and mods and all sorts of technical computer stuff which he seemed to understand innately. Murphy’s son, right there, Kate thought, before she berated herself for the lazy assumption: all kids were into that and actually he loved sport, unlike his father. Looks-wise though, there was no mistake. Her blue eyes, but the rest, the shaggy brown hair, the bold lips and the set of his shoulders, were all his.
‘We want to have a family chat, all of us, okay with you?’ Charlie said, wiping his fringe off his forehead as he fidgeted with a loom band on his wrist.
‘Can I have some crisps?’ he said, shifting around, unable to keep still.
‘Later!’ Tom said, his face bright, concealing his turmoil. ‘After! You’ve only just had pizza!’
‘Come on, Griffy,’ Kate said. ‘Mum and dad and me, we want to tell you something really fab, it won’t be long. I’ll get you smoky bacon straight after. Deal?’
‘Deal!’ He punched the air and beamed.
‘So, Griffy, you know we’ve told you about your tummy mummy, the mummy who grew you?’ Charlie said, evenly.
‘The one who couldn’t look after me,’ he said, factually, reciting from his account of his beginning.
‘That’s it. Well, she’s a bit better now.’
‘That’s good.’ His empathy was a new thing, he was growing up. Then his brow furrowed. ‘She’s not taking me away, is she?’
Kate’s heart flipped at his naked fear.
‘No, of course not. You’re ours, we’re yours. We love you very much and we’ll never let you go. Okay?’ Charlie was emphatic, undramatic.
He accepted it without question and relaxed.
‘Good. You said she was really nice, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. She’s wonderful. She loves you very much.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because you’re so wonderful!’
He crossed his eyes and laughed. Kate held her breath because she knew there was to be no beating about the bush. It was coming and her stomach tensed.
‘The thing is, what we wanted to know is how would you feel if Aunty Katie was your tummy mummy?’
Griff looked at Kate then at Charlie then at Kate again. Waiting, his reaction was being formed: he opened his eyes wide.
And then the relief as the words toppled out of his mouth.
‘That would be… epic! Aunty Katie, she’s awesome,’ he told Charlie, then to Kate. ‘You’re awesome!’
Kate smiled and she felt it with her entire body.
‘Well, it’s true! How fantastic is that?’ Tom said, putting an arm around him.
‘Do I have two mummies then?’ He looked up at his father, eyelashes blinking with concentration to clarify things.
‘Yes! Isn’t that cool!’ Tom said, ruffling his hair.
‘It is!’
Tom looked at Kate now: it was her turn.
‘Mummy will always be your mummy. I can stay as Aunty Katie if you want or mummy number two or—’ She touched his bare knee, feeling her own flesh and blood, marvelling that he was even more beautiful today now that there was no more pretence.
‘How about sausage head?’ Griff said, hooting as they all joined in laughing.
‘Whatever you like,’ Kate said, her eyes watering from happiness at his acceptance, her lungs bursting with her rebirth. Her heart screamed for him to come to her, to cuddle her and let her breath in her baby, but she contained it: they had agreed to let him lead the way.
Then he chewed the side of his mouth. She could see his mind working away.
‘What about my dad then?’ he said after a while.
‘Well, I’m your dad,’ Tom said, ‘like mum is your mum. The dad who made you, you can decide later if you’d like to meet him.’
Kate admired his courage, which he used to hide his pain.
‘Is he a rugby player?’ Griff asked, suddenly animated, his face lighting up. It would kill Tom every time he thought of that, Kate knew.
‘No,’ Kate said, firmly. ‘He’s just a normal person.’
‘What’s he like?’ he asked.
‘Oh, he’s…’ Panic, the one moment of it, stormed in. What could Kate say about him? He’d been one of her best friends, he’d gone through some rough times, Kate had turned him against Vee. He doesn’t even know you are alive. It’s my fault, I was ill, it made me do things I shouldn’t have done – but thank God for you, my darling…
‘He’s nice.’ She would never badmouth him to Griff. She would never make him out to be wonderful either, until he proved otherwise. The three adults paused, hoping this would satisfy him.
Griff scratched his ankle and gazed up at the ceiling.
‘Okay.’
And just like that, Kate knew, he was done.
‘Any questions?’ Charlie asked, kissing his forehead.
‘Can I have my crisps now?’ he said, pulling away, moving on to the next thing.
‘Yes!’ Kate said, unable to stop herself just this once, needing to smell his sweet scent, tickling him as he collapsed
onto her. Her son.
‘If you ever want to ask anything, ever, just ask,’ she said, studying him in her lap.
‘Uncle Jack? Is it him?’ Oh, the gallop of her heart revealed how perfect that would be.
‘No. But he loves you as if you were his.’
‘Okay, Griffy?’ Charlie said, measured, wanting to show him she would stay and sit and talk all night if he needed it
‘Crisps!’ he shouted, over it while the rest of them still trembled.
‘Yes, all right!’ Tom said, wiping his eyes, hugging his wife.
Griff cocked his head and clocked them all, each sniffing and trying to keep it together.
‘Why are you all crying? You should be happy. I am!’ His hands were out wide, as if he was informing them night followed day.
‘We are!’ they repeated, one after the other.
‘Because we’re even more epic now. I have two mums and two dads, well, three if you count Uncle Jack, and that beats everyone, everyone including Lily in my class who has two mums and one dad. Dad, want to play FIFA? Bagsy I’m Barcelona!’
Then he shot out the room, leaving Kate to marvel at his understanding, his simple shrugging at the facts without baggage or complication. That would come, no doubt in his adolescence, but at least he would look back on this moment in his life and remember the love.
That is what she clung onto as she considered her next move. She’d lost Vee yet again, but she could make amends: one last person needed to know.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
M
Cardiff Bay, July
Murphy bit his nail and ripped it off with a savage tear. A sharp pain then blood, glinting red in the morning sunshine as it oozed up over the exposed skin of his throbbing finger.
Why the fuck had he done that? he wondered, sucking the tip, tasting bitter iron then pressing it hard against his palm to stop the bleeding.
A pitiful distraction, it was, doing nothing to stop his pounding anxiety.
He was waiting for Kate: the thought made his guts writhe like a pit of serpents. While it was a hot July day, the hairs on his arms stood up from the fear. His eyes, hidden behind shades, scanned the waterfront for her. Would he recognize her after all this time? He hadn’t seen her since that night. Not even the morning after because, out of shame, he’d played dead until he’d heard the front door click. Afterwards, she’d never contacted him and he’d never contacted her. But the sickness from that morning had stayed with him right up until now.
