No Child of Mine

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Hey Millie,’ Alex said softly as she came through the open door. ‘You’re awake, that’s good.’

  Millie frowned, blinked and took a moment to locate where the voice had come from. When she found Alex her tired old face crumpled into a smile that made Alex’s heart swell with affection. No matter what kind of state she found Millie in, and it could change dramatically from one visit to the next, the dear old soul almost never failed to recognise her, even if she couldn’t always quite remember how she knew her.

  ‘Alex,’ she said huskily. ‘There’s lovely.’

  ‘How are you?’ Alex smiled, going to perch on the arm of the wingback visitor’s chair. ‘The nurse just told me that you fell out of bed.’

  Millie seemed puzzled. ‘Did I? When was that then?’

  ‘Last night, she said.’ Apparently someone had rung Carol, Millie’s niece, but Alex didn’t imagine Carol was unduly concerned, since Millie hadn’t sustained anything more than a couple of bruises.

  Not appearing very interested in her fall either, Millie gazed about for a while, presumably drifting through the wilderness of dementia that was clouding her ageing mind. Alex sometimes wondered if it was her father’s death that had pushed Millie into this next, more debilitating stage of the disease – she’d been absolutely devoted to him, and had often said that the world wouldn’t be worth staying in without him.

  Now, having lost the use of her legs, along with the ability to wash herself and go to the bathroom, Millie was almost entirely dependent on the carers and nurses of this home, apart from when Alex came in. Though she wasn’t in any way strong enough to lift or change the old lady, she occasionally helped her to eat if she was there at mealtimes, and wheeled her around the gardens when it was warm enough for her to be outside.

  As Millie’s rheumy eyes came back to her, Alex saw that they were starting to dance. ‘My little stick of rock,’ she croaked with a laugh.

  Alex laughed too and wanted to hug her frail old bones. Ever since she could remember Millie had called her that, saying it was because she had special stamped all the way through her. In many ways Millie was like the grandmother she’d never had. She’d always been there, in the cottage next door, usually treating the world as the enemy, never seeming to mind who she upset unless it was Alex, or her favourite of all, Douglas. Gabby had never had much time for her, and their mother had never denied she found her a bit of a trial, but for Alex, particularly after she’d learned she was adopted, she’d felt a bit like a kindred spirit. She was an outsider too, who’d been drawn into the warmth of the rector’s heart and embraced as extended family.

  ‘What time is it?’ Millie asked.

  Alex glanced at her watch. ‘Just after three,’ she replied.

  Millie nodded, though it didn’t look as though anything had registered. ‘So have you come to give me my breakfast?’ she wondered.

  Alex smiled. ‘Not for the moment. You should be having your tea soon.’

  Millie snuffled a little, smacked her gums together and looked down at the two small mounds her feet were making under the crocheted blanket. ‘Where’s your dad?’ she asked, bringing her eyes back to Alex. ‘Is he coming to see me?’

  Reaching for her hand, Alex said, ‘He can’t, Millie. He died, don’t you remember? About two years ago.’

  Millie scowled, and started to look fussed. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she chided. ‘He was here yesterday. You’re a bad girl to be saying things like that. You’ll never go to heaven if you tell lies.’

  Knowing better than to argue, Alex said, ‘Have you been out of bed at all today?’

  Millie’s tight little mouth with its fans of deep feathery lines opened and closed a few times before she said, ‘Not yet, no. They don’t get me dressed till after breakfast. I think I’ll have my hair cut today, and a nice perm. Got to keep yourself up together, haven’t you?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Alex agreed, wondering when Millie’s white halo of angel fluff had last seen anything stronger than shampoo and a comb. ‘Have you made yourself a boyfriend then?’ she teased.

  It took only a moment for Millie to chuckle. ‘Oh no, my courting days is over,’ she said, her head wobbling about in pleasure. ‘But the boy who brings the tea, oh he’s lovely he is. If I was ten years younger he’d be in trouble.’

  Alex gave a gurgle of laughter. The boy who came with the tea probably wasn’t even twenty, so quite how old Millie thought she was, was anyone’s guess.

  ‘Your mother’s dead too, isn’t she?’ Millie stated vaguely after a while.

  ‘That’s right,’ Alex confirmed.

  Millie sat with that for a moment, and Alex wondered what she’d thought of Myra. She’d never said, at least not to Alex, but she must have sensed that Myra wasn’t overly fond of her.

  ‘I never understood how that woman could have given up a dear little thing like you,’ Millie rasped softly. ‘Never came back to find you, did she? Funny that. You’d have thought she would, when she left the hospital, you being the only one she had left.’

  Alex’s heartbeat was slowing. She’d assumed Millie was talking about Myra when she’d said, ‘Your mother’s dead too,’ but now it didn’t seem so. Did that mean her real mother was dead? Not sure how she’d feel if she found out it was true, she said, ‘Did you – did you ever know my real mother, Millie?’

  Millie’s eyes wandered as she shook her head.

  ‘So how do you know ... What makes you say she’s dead?’

  Millie blinked a few times and failed to reply.

  ‘Millie?’

  Several more moments ticked by before Alex realised tears were beading in the old lady’s eyes.

  Alarmed, Alex reached for her hand. ‘What is it?’ she urged. ‘Millie, what’s upsetting you?’

  Millie’s voice rasped with sadness as she said, ‘I just wants to see your dad and my poor dear mam. She’ll be here in a minute to take me home.’

  Imagining Millie’s mother as an angel coming to take her on to the next world, Alex smiled as a lump formed in her throat. There was no point trying to force Millie into seeing or making sense when she no longer had any idea what sense was.

  ‘No bugger ever thinks about me, except your dad,’ Millie complained as a tear ran down her cheek.

  ‘And me,’ Alex reminded her.

  When Millie looked at her again she seemed surprised and pleased to see her. ‘Alex,’ she said happily. ‘There’s lovely,’ and the visit seemed to start all over again.

  Twenty minutes later Alex was sitting at the wheel of her car watching the comings and goings of the home and wondering if Millie had, albeit fleetingly, been talking about her real mother. She rarely allowed herself to think of her these days, it did no good, but if she was dead ... She couldn’t be, Myra or Douglas would have told her.

  Wouldn’t they?

  And what difference would it make to her if she had died?

  She didn’t quite know how to answer that, apart from realising it would make her feel cheated, ridiculously lonely even, and deprived of a dream that she barely ever connected with, but it was there all the same.

  Taking out her phone she clicked on Gabby’s number, and inhaled a shuddering breath as she waited for an answer. Gabby would know if it was true.

  As the machine picked up at the other end she remembered that Martin and the kids were sick, so leaving a quick message wishing them better and asking Gabby to call when she had a minute, she tried her Aunt Sheila instead. She’d be even more likely than Gabby to know if it were true, given how close she and Myra had been.

  Suddenly realising how difficult she might find it if Sheila did confirm the worst, she rang off before the call connected. She had to make sure she was ready to hear it, prepared to cope with the fact that there would never be any sort of fairy-tale ending for her and her mother.

  She was trying to make herself think rationally. It wasn’t as if she’d be grieving for someone she knew, she reminded herself. Her mother had never been r
eal in a sense that she remembered. She’d been a figment of her imagination, a dream to hold on to in times of loneliness and confusion, particularly during her teenage years. Everything’ll be all right once we’re together, she used to tell herself when she’d first found out her mother was still alive. She’ll be loving and kind and have a good reason for why she didn’t come to find me before. And anyway it wouldn’t matter what the reason was, because she’d come in the end and at last we would be together, where we belonged.

  She hadn’t realised until now quite how powerful that small voice inside her still was. Over the years she’d kept trying to drown it out with a scornful, angry tirade that berated her mother for returning to a man who’d massacred her family, for God’s sake. How weak and pathetic could she be to go running after someone who had caused her so much pain and suffering, who’d inflicted it on others too and who probably viewed her with nothing but contempt?

  But her mother might not be that person. There was nothing to say that she was, no single shred of evidence from the research Alex had done, or veiled suggestion from Myra and Douglas, or even the glimmer of a possibility on the Internet. Nor had anyone, until now, ever hinted that she might be dead. So she really couldn’t take Millie’s word for it, especially when Millie was no longer in her right mind.

  Moments later she was through to her Aunt Sheila, barely even asking how she was, or if it was convenient to talk, as she launched into what Millie had told her.

  ‘Oh my, oh my,’ Sheila sighed sorrowfully when she’d finished. ‘I honestly don’t know why Millie would have come out with something like that, except she’s very muddled these days, as you would know better than most.’

  ‘Her long-term memory isn’t too bad,’ Alex protested, ‘and she seemed quite lucid for the few moments she was talking about her.’

  ‘Well, all I can tell you is that I’ve never heard anyone say that she’s dead. To be honest, I’m not sure how your parents would have known anyway. As far as I’m aware they weren’t in touch with her, and I’m sure Myra would have said if they were.’

  Alex’s head fell back against the seat as she closed her eyes, then hearing voices in the background, she said, ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you had company.’

  ‘Oh, it’s just Gabby with Martin and the kids. They came over for a Sunday roast and I think they might be about to leave.’

  Stiffening with surprise, Alex said, ‘Oh, I see. Well, it’s good to know they’re feeling better.’ Why hadn’t they invited her to join them for lunch? Gabby had known she was on her own today, hadn’t she? It didn’t matter; she’d already decided by then to go and see Millie anyway.

  ‘Oh, I think they’ll live,’ Sheila chuckled. ‘It did them good to get out of the house for a while, they’ve been all cooped up since Thursday.’

  ‘Please send them my love,’ Alex said through a wavering smile, ‘and tell them the play went really well.’

  ‘Oh goodness, I’d forgotten all about that. Did it really? How marvellous. I’m sorry we couldn’t make it, dear, but I’m sure we’ll get up there before it closes.’

  ‘That’ll be lovely,’ Alex assured her. ‘I’d better let you go now so you can see them off.’

  After ending the call she turned the key in the ignition and started to drive out of the car park, knowing that if she didn’t get herself moving right away she’d end up sitting there wallowing in some hideous wave of self-pity that had no more business in her head than it did in her heart. Her mother was someone she didn’t even know, and might not even want to know if she did, so perhaps she should think about that instead of romanticising her on to some sort of pedestal. And as for Gabby and Sheila, she needed to remember that they had lives too, and she couldn’t expect to be a number one priority for them, especially when Gabby had a husband and kids.

  She’d call Jason when she got home to tell him what had happened. Or no, she’d just ask how it was going at his mother’s and suggest that they do something special for his kids once the show had closed. Maybe they could take them to Center Parcs for a weekend, or even on a ferry over to France.

  Chapter Seven

  ON TUESDAY MORNING Alex had precious little time to spare before going to meet Lizzie for their dreaded visit to the Princes. Even so, she wasn’t going to allow another day to pass by without making some sort of contact with the parents of Ottilie Wade. She’d left messages at the school again yesterday, and called at the house when passing to no avail, so if she didn’t get anywhere again today she’d be turning up at Mr Wade’s office tomorrow, or the classroom, she didn’t mind which.

  However, just as she was finishing up her report on the hellish Monday that had included her trying to tear one of her charges away from a drug-addicted mother, and another child letting the tyres down on her car while she was inside talking to his stepfather, her mobile rang and seeing it was from Kesterly Rise Primary she quickly clicked on.

  ‘Ms Lake, it’s Brian Wade,’ a polite, cheerful voice informed her. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t managed to get hold of you before now, but how can I help?’

  Quickly hitting the save button on her computer, Alex cut straight to the chase. ‘We’ve had a call expressing some concern about your daughter, Ottilie ...’

  ‘Oh dear, not again,’ he interrupted with a sigh. ‘I can assure you my daughter’s fine, and I must apologise for the trouble this is putting you to. The person who’s making these calls ... I take it I’m right in thinking it’s a woman who didn’t give her name?’

  ‘Yes, but ...’

  ‘She never does. Well, you’ll know that if you’ve checked your records, and I’m sure you have. It’s a dreadful nuisance, for everyone, but I’m afraid I don’t know how to make her stop. She’s made accusations against me before, you see, when my family and I were in Northumbria ...’

  ‘Yes, I read that, but I can’t seem to find any record of her name. Do you know what it is?’

  There was a pause before he said, ‘McCarthy, I think. Yes, Jill McCarthy. I don’t know her personally, I have no recollection of ever even meeting her, so I’ve no idea why she decided to make me the target of her ... I suppose we should call them delusions. All I can tell you is that losing our son was the worst experience my wife and I have ever been through, and these ... calls were upsetting in the extreme. My wife has never been the same since Jonathan was taken, and if this crazy woman is going to start bringing it all up again I’m afraid I shall have to take some very serious steps to make her stop.’

  Wondering what the steps might be, Alex said, ‘I appreciate your concerns, Mr Wade, I really do, but I’m sure you know that I’m required to perform an assessment on Ottilie ...’

  ‘But I’ve already assured you my daughter is fine ...’

  ‘In which case you’ll have no objection to me coming to see her.’

  Sounding slightly strained now, he said, ‘I’ve just tried to explain about my wife’s fragility ...’

  ‘You have my sympathy, believe me, but I still need to see Ottilie. If it’s going to be difficult for her mother perhaps you’d like to be there when I visit. May I suggest after school tomorrow afternoon, at four thirty?’

  With a tremulous, almost irritable sigh he said, ‘Ms Lake, I don’t think you’re quite understanding the damage this might cause to my wife.’

  ‘With respect, Mr Wade, you know I have a legal obligation to see your daughter regardless of the harm it might cause your wife ...’

  ‘Can I remind you that your colleague, to whom I spoke on the previous two occasions, saw no reason to doubt my word, so I’m at a loss as to why you’re being so persistent. This surely isn’t what social services are about, coming into families and causing more problems when there is absolutely no need to.’

  Keeping her tone reasonable and polite, Alex said, ‘Mr Wade, your resistance to my visit is making it more necessary than ever that I make one. So, I’ll be there at four thirty tomorrow. Please make sure Ottilie is too, or it could result in us h
aving to involve the police.’

  As she rang off she blew out a heavy sigh, releasing some of the built-up tension. She might have gone a bit far in mentioning the police, given that he was a deputy headmaster; however, there was no harm in reminding him that he was as obliged as anyone else to comply with the rules, especially where child protection was concerned. She was going to be interested now to see if he was at the house when she turned up tomorrow, or if he tried to cancel or postpone. He might even, she thought, as she ran down to her car, try contacting her superiors to get them to make her back off.

  Good luck with that, she was thinking as she headed off to Temple Fields. No one at her office, no matter where they were on the ladder, took kindly to interference when there were question marks over a child. And even if he did manage to get someone on his side, she’d already made up her mind that she wasn’t going to let this one go.

  We’ll find out then, Mr Wade, she was thinking to herself, as she clicked on to her Bluetooth to take a call, which of us has the most power where your daughter is concerned. If she’s fine, as you say, I hope it’s you. If she isn’t, you’re going to find out very soon now that it’s me.

  Twenty minutes later Alex was driving into the layby opposite Tesco, about half a mile from Temple Fields, where Lizzie was already waiting in her trusty old Ford estate. She was a strikingly sumptuous West Indian woman with sparkling brown eyes and an enormous chest that contained an enormous heart. Her experience of the more troubled estates of their region was far greater than most, since she and her family lived on the more desirable west side of Temple Fields in the midst of the largely black community. The Asian families had cornered the northern side, while the whites and smatterings of various other ethnics had a stranglehold on the south-easterly sprawl of tower blocks, run-down terraces and battle-weary semis.