‘Shit!’
‘OK, that does sound very dramatic, but she was born heroin-dependent and had to go through withdrawal.’
‘I’ve seen it,’ Izzy said, frowning. ‘Not at all nice for a baby. They can have terrible diarrhoea, sweating and tremors that they have to go through in order to withdraw.’
‘It was the high-pitched screaming that got to me when I first picked her up,’ I said, remembering the awful noise Allegra made for the first few days of her life. ‘But I guess because Lucy and I are identical twins, she looked like me. She had my features and I loved her straight away.’
‘Did social services take her away to foster parents?’
‘They wanted to. Mum and I spent a week persuading, arguing, pleading even, that we were the best people to look after Allegra. Eventually they agreed to an interim care order.’
‘What does that mean?’ Mel asked.
‘It confers enhanced parental responsibility on family members for a short time. Lucy and Allegra came back to Mum and Dad’s with us, but she couldn’t cope with it all. Allegra was still a colicky, irritable baby and cried constantly. She wouldn’t breastfeed, she slept only for half an hour at a time. After six weeks of absolute hell when, to be honest, I was on the point of giving Allegra up too, Lucy upped and went again…’ I looked at my watch. We’d been talking for over an hour and I was now way behind with food preparation for the eight people that were booked in for an afternoon cookery lesson on Yorkshire Fayre. I stood up and made to clear our mugs and plates.
‘So? What then?’ Grace demanded.
‘I knew I couldn’t give another little baby up. So, after three months of looking after Allegra, I applied for and was granted a Special Guardianship Order which basically means I’m Allegra’s legal guardian.’
‘For how long? Are social services still involved?’ Izzy asked. ‘I thought they would be, but you’ve never mentioned them. Mind you, you’ve never mentioned any of this, have you…?’
‘Social services have no involvement whatsoever with us now apart from some ongoing financial support that I was able to apply for. An SGO—a Special Guardianship Order—provides a legal permanence but also preserves the basic link between a child and her real mother. Six years on and Lucy has never wanted to do anything about that link until now. I’m Allegra’s legal guardian until she’s eighteen, unless…’
‘Unless?’
‘Unless Lucy makes an application to have her back. She can demand this through the courts at any time.’ I looked round at Grace, Izzy and Mel who were watching me carefully. ‘The law says that every child has a right to a meaningful relationship with its real birth parent…’
‘Well, then the law is a fucking ass,’ Izzy snapped, but then her voice softened. ‘You’ve been incredibly lucky, Clem. In how well Allegra’s turned out, I mean. I’ve seen children, born to heroin-addicted mothers, who have permanent congenital anomalies. Although, to be fair, that’s not the norm. What you do often see is some intellectual impairment both with verbal and performance skills by the time these children reach Allegra’s age.’
‘Well, that’s why I was so over the moon when Mrs Theobold, Allegra’s headteacher, stopped me in the playground to tell me what a bright, advanced little thing she is. I can’t tell you what a relief it was.’
Izzy smiled but then frowned. ‘But what I don’t understand, Clem, is why you moved Allegra out of your mum’s place? Why down to the Emerald Street vicinity where you could bump into Lucy at any time?’
‘I really couldn’t take much more of living with my mum, her coasters, “serviettes” and the Daily Express. She means well, I know she does, and she’s been through a hell of a lot with Lucy, but I was twenty-eight, and living at home when you’re that age is not good. I’d started my degree course, so I wanted to be down near the centre of town anyway to save money on transport. But really, I moved down there because… because I loved—love—Allegra so much I had to make this guardianship permanent. I’ve spent the last six years dreading Lucy just turning up out of the blue, demanding to have her back. I needed to find Lucy myself. I’ve spent the last couple of years looking for her, so that I could persuade her to make this all permanent. I want… I need to adopt Allegra. She’s my daughter, but I have to make her legally mine before it’s too late.’
*
‘Phone, Clem.’ Betty, one of my kitchen staff, had arrived for her afternoon shift just as the phone started ringing in the kitchen.
‘Mrs Broadbent? It’s Mrs Theobold at Westenbury C of E. Could you come straight down to school? There’s a woman been hanging around, asking the children in the playground which is Allegra.’
31
‘I’m assuming this woman is your sister, Mrs Broadbent?’ the Fear-Bold asked as she led me into her office and indicated that I should sit down.
‘It will be,’ I said. ‘When I spoke to you the other morning about her visiting me, I didn’t think she’d be hanging around so soon.’
I don’t know why the hell I’d thought that. When Lucy wanted something she wanted it immediately, whether it be nicking a tenner from Mum and Dad to buy the latest Power Rangers figurines to compete with Toby O’Neill—our neighbour at the time—when she was nine, or using my untouched new Rimmel lipstick before I did even though she knew I was saving it for its first outing on Friday night at Youth Club.
I’d thought it best to inform this martinet of a woman the circumstances behind Allegra’s birth when I’d first enrolled her in her school. I’d done the same at her nursery and the community school down on Beaumont Street. When I’d dropped Allegra off in the playground the morning after Lucy’s visit, I’d managed to have a word with Mrs Theobold about Lucy’s sudden appearance and to reiterate that under no circumstances was Allegra to be allowed to leave school with anyone but me or my mother—even if she looked just like me.
‘I suggest you take Allegra home with you now, Mrs Broadbent,’ Mrs Theobold said, unexpectedly kindly. ‘It’s almost home time anyway. While we do have as much security in the school as possible, if you are concerned that Allegra’s mother might attempt to take her, it might be a good idea to have a word with the police.’
I looked at the headmistress, realising what she’d just said, and was struck, perhaps for the first time in years, with the enormity of what I’d pushed to the back of my mind and refused to acknowledge: that Lucy was Allegra’s mum and I wasn’t.
She led me in silence down a corridor illustrated with a giant Goldilocks, the Three Bears and myriad bowls of porridge, each decorated with stripes, dots and stars in every colour found in the standard pack of thick, wax crayons I remembered so well from my own school days.
Mrs Theobold went into the classroom—'Good afternooooon, Mississ Theobooooold’—and bent to speak to a couple of tots before moving to have a word with Miss Fisher, Allegra’s teacher. I took the opportunity to scan the classroom for Allegra, and found her holding court with five other little girls, the navy ribbon on one of her plaits hanging by a whisker as she nodded and jiggled in time to some music her group was improvising with the help of a set of percussion instruments. She was so beautiful, with her dark hair and bright eyes; with her perfect little white teeth that she now showed to the world as she flung back her head and giggled delightedly at the rude farty noise made by another group’s trumpet. I almost wept with pride and love, as well as the awful churning fear that I might lose her.
One of the little girls in Allegra’s group spotted me in the doorway and nudged Allegra before pointing towards me.
‘Mummy,’ Allegra shouted, abandoning her mates and flinging herself at me. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Oh, I was just passing so thought I’d call in and see if I could take you home a bit earlier than usual. I thought we could sit in the garden and eat ice cream. What do you reckon?’
‘I’m going home early,’ Allegra announced to her merry band of musicians. ‘To eat my Mummy’s homemade ice cream in the garden.’
>
*
‘Allegra, sweetie, there’s something I need to talk to you about…’
She looked up from her bowl of chocolate and vanilla ice cream but didn’t say anything.
‘Allegra, come and sit with me because this is important.’ She got up from the wicker garden table and came to sit on my lap in the shade. ‘Allegra, I have a sister that you’ve never met.’
Allegra’s head came up in surprise. ‘A sister? Like Sophie is Max’s sister?’
‘Yes, although my sister is a bit different because, not only is she my sister, she is my twin.’
‘You mean like Molly and Tilly?’
‘Yes. Just like Molly and Tilly in Mrs Marshall’s class.’
‘Where is she?’ Allegra gazed around the garden as if expecting my clone to suddenly manifest itself.
‘Allegra…’ Oh, Jesus, how the hell did I say this? I took a deep breath and held her sticky ice-cream hand. ‘Allegra, my twin is called Lucy and… and she had a baby. And… and she wasn’t very well so she asked me to look after her baby for her. You see, darling, that baby was you. And although I’m your mummy, Lucy, my twin sister is your first mummy. You were in her tummy before you were born and before I became your mummy…’ Shit, I was making a total rat’s arse of this. I felt a trickle of sweat run between my breasts.
Allegra gazed up at me wide-eyed. ‘So aren’t you my mummy anymore?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I am, darling.’
‘So I don’t have to go and live with this other mummy?’ Allegra’s face clouded and I saw real fear in her eyes.
‘No, no absolutely not. You’re staying here with me and Max and Sophie and George,’ I said with more confidence than I actually felt.
Allegra popped her thumb in her mouth and said, ‘Well, that’s all right then,’ before snuggling into me and reaching for the remains of her ice cream.
*
At bedtime, once I’d tucked Max in and promised I’d be at his cricket match on the Saturday—how the hell I was going to manage it with a full house at Clementine’s, I wasn’t really sure, but I couldn’t let him down especially as he’d been promoted to play for the Under 10s—I returned to Allegra’s pink boudoir to check she was asleep. She wasn’t.
‘Mummy?’
‘Yes?’
‘Have I got Mummy Lucy and Mummy Clementine now like Katy?’
‘Katy?’
‘Katy Who Has Two Mummies, in my class.’
‘Oh right, yes.’ I remembered The Fear-Bold proudly telling me, as she showed me round on my first visit to the school, that she had ‘all manner of families’ in her establishment including—and she’d held them up almost as a trophy—‘two lovely lesbians and their daughter—conceived with the help of a turkey baster, no less.’ Maybe this was the way forward with Lucy: sharing Allegra between us. Oh, but I didn’t want to share her. She was mine.
‘Allegra, you do have two mummies but you live here with me and if Mummy Lucy comes to school or into the garden to take you out for… for sweeties or… to see a kitten…’
‘A kitten?’ Allegra’s head came up off the pillow.
Jesus, I realised I was suddenly investing poor Lucy with dangerous paedophile tendencies rather than portraying her as Allegra’s real mother.
I stayed with Allegra, stroking her hair until she slept and then, feeling depressed, went downstairs. If in doubt, bake, I’d always told myself and, with Sophie’s seventeenth birthday due in a couple of days, decided I’d make her a knockout cake. She was up in her room revising for the AS level exams she was in the middle of so, once I’d done an hour’s prepping for the following evening, I went into the pantry to find a large enough tin in which to bake a cake.
When I came back into the kitchen after a good five minutes rummaging at the back of the pantry, David Henderson was standing at the huge island, arms folded.
‘God, David, you made me jump.’
‘Clem, I…’ He hesitated. ‘Mandy tells me you came over a couple of nights ago?’
Had it only been that long? It seemed a whole lifetime had passed since Lucy’s visit, since my being told exactly where I stood with regards to Mr Henderson by Mrs Henderson—and since I’d fallen head over heels in love with Rafe Ahern despite his hand being stuck up a sweating horse’s fanjo.
Head over heels? In love? With the miserable, bad-tempered, not wildly attractive Rafe Ahern? Give me a break.
I stared at David, taking in his handsome tanned face, his obviously expensive black pinstriped suit, his immaculate white shirt, his general aura of wealth and competence and my heart didn’t do the usual gymnastics it had been conditioned to do ever since I’d first met this man over a year ago.
‘Clem, Mandy told me what she said to you. She had absolutely no right…’ David suddenly walked over to me, took my shoulders and held me tightly at arm’s length so that he could look directly into my face. ‘Clem, I… oh God… oh, just don’t say a word,’ he sighed and, bending his face to mine, kissed me long and hard.
Come on, heart, I urged, get going. This is the bloody Olympics: your big chance. Go for it…
Nothing. Nothing at all. The old heart was sulking in the corner, refusing even to don its leotard for an initial warm up. How long had I waited for this moment? To be kissed by David Henderson?
David pulled me to him, wrapping his arms round me so that my head rested on his tiepin where it dug painfully into the side of my head. ‘Look, Clem, Mandy doesn’t know I’m here. I got back from Milan an hour ago and knew I just had to come over to see you. I can’t offer you anything at the moment, I just don’t know how things are going to work out…’
Things? I pulled myself out of David’s embrace and went over to fill the kettle to give myself time to think. I realised I hadn’t said a word apart from ‘God, David, you made me jump’ as I came out of the pantry. I really, really didn’t know what to say. What was it that David thought he might eventually be able to offer that he couldn’t quite offer at the moment? A life without Mandy? The position of mistress? Or a quick tumble over the eggs, flour (supreme self-raising) and sugar I’d assembled on the island for Sophie’s birthday cake?
And what was it about me that I never seemed to have anything that really belonged to me? My parents weren’t really mine; my daughter wasn’t really mine; Ariav, who had stipulated he’d stay only if I got rid of my child, hadn’t really been mine; Max and Sophie weren’t mine. And I knew, if David had come along, even a week ago, with this offer of ‘not quite sure what it is, but I’m offering it anyway,’ I’d have been ripping his shirt off and cracking eggs with gay abandon, even with the almost certain knowledge that he’d never leave Mandy and could never really belong to me.
Before I could try and explain to David how I felt, the phone rang at the same moment that Max came into the kitchen clutching his framed photo of Vanessa and weeping.
‘Clem?’ Max sobbed. ‘I want my mummy, Clem. I want her.’
‘Clementine?’ Mandy Henderson barked down the phone as I simultaneously picked up the phone and a distraught Max. ‘If my husband is there, would you tell him supper is ready and going cold? Many thanks.’ She put the phone down on me before I could say a word and I was left beginning to wonder if anyone would ever allow me to speak again.
*
Once I’d found Max some clean pyjamas and stripped and remade his wet bed, Sophie sat with him until he slept again and then she joined me in the kitchen.
‘Sorry, Sophie, this was going to be your surprise birthday cake. No surprise now,’ I said ruefully.
‘I think I’ve had enough surprises this year, don’t you?’ She paused. ‘And actually could I have a vanilla buttercream filling rather than chocolate, and strawberry jam rather than raspberry? And…’ She tried to hide her blushes in the fridge as she searched for the butter. ‘And erm, how old were you when you first did it?’
‘Did it? Did what? Made a cake?’ I smiled as, still red-faced, she started beating the but
ter and sugar in a large glass bowl with a wooden spoon. ‘Use the electric beaters, Sophie. Don’t make work for yourself. How old was I when I first had sex, is that what you’re asking?’
‘Er, yes. I suppose with you having Lucy for a sister, you were both at it much younger than me?’
At it? What a marvellous turn of phrase, I thought, at the same time as giving thanks to whatever deity might be listening that I hadn’t been tempted to ravage David Henderson on the granite. How truly dreadful to have been caught ‘at it’ by this seventeen-year-old who seemed to think because my twin was a sex worker I must too have had my fair share.
While Sophie continued to beat the butter and sugar, I cracked eggs —without Mr H’s help—and sifted flour. ‘I was nearly nineteen, Sophie, when I first had sex, so I was older than you. And since then, I’ve probably been in very few relationships—a lot fewer than you’d think.’
‘So, do you think I should do it with Sam?’
‘Sophie, my darling, do you want to “do it” with Sam?’
‘I dunno, really—I’m worried our braces will get in the way. I mean, how awful if we were magnetically attached to each other.’ She glanced at me over the mixing bowl and we both started laughing.
‘All I will say, Sophie, is never do anything you don’t want to do. Never be pressurised and give in because you feel you ought, or it seems to be the easier option. Oh, and if you are going to “do it” make sure you use a condom.’
‘I could never have had this conversation with Mum, you know,’ Sophie said sadly. ‘She never listened to anything I wanted to talk about. It was all about Justin, or what new car she was having or where she could go off on holiday once I was out of the way and back at school.’
‘That’s because you were an ’orrible adolescent,’ I said, trying to be diplomatic. ‘You think everyone is against you when you’re fifteen and sixteen. Right, that cake looks to be shaping up well. How do you fancy earning some money once your exams are through? We’ve got a really busy couple of months ahead and I’m going to have to take on some temporary staff. Mel, Grace and I need help in the kitchen and waiting on.’
Looking For Lucy Page 31
