Looking For Lucy

by Julie Houston

  ‘Fine, Betty,’ I snapped. ‘Just sort the damned potatoes and then you’re free to bugger off to M&S to sell Rudolph knickers and snowmen jumpers.’

  ‘Hey, you’re getting like that Geoffrey Ramsden,’ Betty sniffed, swishing potatoes in the sink at a furious rate. ‘You’ll be f-ing and blinding next.’

  ‘It’s Gordon Ramsay,’ I laughed, ‘and I fucking won’t!’

  *

  By four o’clock the next afternoon, I was physically drained but mentally buzzing. It felt as if someone had dropped me a couple of tablets of speed as the thoughts in my head careered and tumbled like an overenthusiastic spin dryer. Mel, who’d been working all day, knew Sarah was on her way over and offered to take Allegra home with her.

  ‘Can I Mummy, can I go with Auntie Mel?’

  ‘Yes, if that’s all right, Mel? Are you sure?’

  ‘I’d love this gorgeous little girl to keep me company.’ Mel smiled her lovely smile at Allegra. ‘Shall we have chips for tea?’

  Allegra’s eyes widened. ‘Chips? And can I stay the night?’

  ‘Allegra…’ I shook my head at her.

  ‘There’s a bed made up, Clem. I’d honestly love to have her.’

  Allegra was off upstairs to get her pyjamas before I could say another word. If I ever got the chance to have Allegra christened, I thought, Mel would be first on my list for godmother.

  ‘Are you OK, Clem? Nervous?’ Mel studied my face as I reminded myself that I might be gaining a mother, but my possible losing of Allegra meant any chance of my adopting and actually christening Allegra was, at the moment, pie in the sky.

  ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am you and Julian moved up here.’ I sniffed, giving her a hug. ‘Now, if I’m to give Sarah the shock of her life, the least I can do is not to be smelling of roast lamb and garlic while I do so.’ I stripped off my black and orange apron and hat, hugged Allegra, went back in for a second hug with Mel and headed for the shower.

  *

  ‘Sarah, I’ve actually got you here on false pretences,’ I said, taking a deep breath as Sarah delved into her rain-spattered bag, bringing out handwritten recipes on lined A4 paper which she shyly offered to me.

  ‘Oh.’ Sarah looked at me, embarrassed, taking back the sheet of paper before I could touch them.

  ‘Come and sit down, will you? I’m sorry we can’t sit in the garden, but we can talk in here.’ I led the way into the snug and we sat next to each other on the sofa where Sarah looked at me expectantly. ‘Look, Sarah, there’s absolutely no easy way of saying this…’ I handed her the photocopies of the cuttings from The Yorkshire Post.

  Sarah visibly paled and her hand flew to her mouth as she realised what the cuttings were. ‘Look, this was years ago,’ she said, her hand shaking as she handed them back to me. ‘It’s got absolutely nothing to do with Poppy.’

  ‘Poppy?’

  ‘Well, I’m assuming that’s why you’ve brought me over here…?’ She looked at me defiantly. ‘To tell me this is why you’re not going to let Poppy work for you after all?’

  ‘No, no! Oh, Sarah…’ I felt my own hands tremble as I handed her the copies of the two birth certificates. ‘I’m doing this all wrong. Shit.’ I swallowed. ‘Sarah, this is my birth certificate. And my twin sister Lucy’s…’

  Sarah was so deathly white I jumped up and poured us both a brandy as Rafe had done a few evenings previously. I was never quite sure if it was the best thing for shock, but it seemed to do the trick. The colour seeped back into her cheeks as she took the glass from me and sipped the alcohol.

  ‘The thing is, Sarah, am I Daisy or Rosie…?’

  Sarah looked at me, her large brown eyes amazingly like Lucy’s, Allegra’s and my own. ‘Daisy was born first,’ she said, her mouth trembling. ‘Rosie fifteen minutes later…’ She looked dazed. ‘Does that help?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid it doesn’t. But really, it doesn’t matter, does it?’ I smiled, realising it truly didn’t.

  ‘Clementine, you need to know…’ Sarah seemed unable to speak. ‘You need to know that all this in the paper about me attacking the police and smuggling drugs is largely untrue.’

  ‘Sarah, I’m not here to judge you.’

  ‘No, listen, Clementine, let me tell you how it really was. Let me tell you the whole dreadful story…’

  I sat and listened for the next hour, letting Sarah speak and weep as she told the story of the battle of Orgreave and the ill-fated trip to Amsterdam where she’d been set up by the man she loved. I tried not to interrupt, but became increasingly angry at the miscarriage of justice that had ended not only in her being locked up for almost three years, but in her being forced to give up Lucy and me.

  ‘Why didn’t you just have us fostered and then come and claim us back when you were out?’ I asked.

  Sarah swallowed, trying, but not succeeding, to stem the flow of tears. ‘Oh Clementine, God knows, I wish I’d been stronger… wish I’d have insisted that the babies were looked after until I could care for them myself. But my family—oh God, my bloody family—said if I kept them they’d have nothing more to do with me. I had no money, no job and no home. How could I have looked after two two-year-olds—who didn’t even know me—once I was released?’

  ‘So, this John Lipton…? My father?’

  ‘Johnny? I adored him.’ Sarah looked at me. ‘You have a lot of his looks, Clementine. If I tell you he was the most beautiful…’Again, Sarah was unable to continue.

  ‘Rogue? Actually rogue isn’t a strong enough handle for what he did to you. Bastard…?’

  ‘Bastard will do, Clementine. Unfortunately it took me ages to accept he knew all about the drugs—that he’d just used me to get them into the country. I was convinced he’d come and find me and tell the truth.’

  ‘So where is he now? Any idea?’

  ‘He’s dead. Oh gosh, Clementine, this is your father and I’ve just glibly told you he’s dead. I’m so sorry.’ Sarah’s face was stricken. ‘He was rotten right through to the core—John Lipton wasn’t even his real name. He told me he’d been an art student, but he never was. Basically, Joseph Lennon was a liar through and through. He was from London, that bit was true, but a warrant was out for him for drug dealing in Kensington and Chelsea, so he nipped up the motorway to Leeds and just carried on doing what he’d always done: lying, cheating, dealing, conning people out of money… you name it, he did it.’

  ‘How do you know he’s dead?’ I asked.

  ‘He was on TV.’

  ‘TV?’

  Sarah smiled wryly. ‘Crimewatch. About twenty years ago. He was murdered in some gangland drug war. Joseph Lennon was just a petty drug dealer and smuggler, but he stepped on the toes of some big boys in Birmingham. And they came after him and finished him off.’

  ‘Oh Sarah, I’m so sorry… You loved him.’ I was shocked at her words.

  She smiled again. ‘Amazing, isn’t it? Even after all he did to me, even after I was married with my children, the knowledge that Johnny was dead filled me with such depression I actually was quite ill for a while.’

  ‘But you’re happy now? You have Jennifer, Jamie and Poppy? Gosh, they’re my brothers and sisters.’ I looked at Sarah in delight. ‘Wow I have a family, a real, big family… and Roger? You’re happy with Roger?’

  Sarah looked at me, and the tears rolled down her face and onto her hands as she wept, unable to stop.

  *

  Much later, after I’d cooked spaghetti for Sophie and Max and invited Sarah to eat with us, Sarah and I took George for a walk across the wet fields. The August storms that had been with us for the past couple of days had finally abated and the air smelt fresh and clean. As we walked, we continued to talk, thirty years of our lives condensed into several hours of conversation. Sarah wanted to meet my mother, she said, to thank her and my dad for adopting us and was determined to tell Poppy and Jamie everything about her past. Roger had always told her there was absolutely no need for their children to be told of
her ‘past misdemeanours’. God, he knew, had forgiven her and taken her into his heart. As such, the children’s lives must remain unburdened by her past. Or so he’d told her.

  And together, Sarah said, we would look for Lucy and tell her how much she was loved. As well as making her see that Allegra must surely stay with me—the only mother she’d ever known.

  36

  ‘So, where do we start looking? I really don’t know Midhope like I know Leeds and Harrogate.’ Determined, desperate even, to find her other long-lost baby now that she’d found me, Sarah was back at Clementine’s two days later before seven-thirty in the morning, waiting impatiently while I did a couple of jobs in the kitchen before handing over to Paul for the day.

  I passed Sarah a coffee and a homemade ginger and dark chocolate muffin, ignoring the three missed calls that showed up on my mobile from Rafe. ‘Come on, have this. I bet you’ve not had breakfast, have you?’

  ‘Clem, I don’t think I’ve eaten anything much for two days,’ she said, her eyes bright, her whole demeanour alive and excited. ‘Or slept much,’ she added.

  ‘What’ve you told your husband and children?’ I asked, finally managing to get Sarah to sit down and eat.

  ‘The truth,’ she said, defiantly. ‘Roger obviously knows the whole story… and has held it over me as a sort of blackmail for the past twenty-five years.’

  ‘Blackmail?’

  ‘Oh, you know—do this or I’ll tell the kids; do that or they’ll know what sort of mother you really are…’

  ‘You’re joking? I thought he was a vicar—a man of God?’

  ‘Yes, well, there are vicars and there are vicars,’ Sarah said, devouring the muffin. ‘Heavens, this is scrummy.’

  I smiled, suddenly seeing the leggy, enthusiastic boarding-school pupil she must once have been.

  ‘Anyway, I sat Poppy down and told her absolutely everything. I didn’t miss out one sordid detail. Roger was hopping about like a demented rabbit.’ Sarah giggled into her coffee. ‘Oops, that’s funny, isn’t it; bloody stupid name for a vicar, anyway. So, Roger Rabbitt…’ She chuckled again and her laugh was so infectious, I joined in. ‘He was hopping about, shaking his head at me not to tell everything, to perhaps give Poppy a watered-down version of events…’

  ‘And? How did she take it?’

  ‘Brilliantly. Thought it was “cool” what I’d been through and obviously couldn’t believe that her boss here is her sister. I tell you, Clementine, I wish I’d told the kids years ago. I wouldn’t have had to kowtow to Roger so much if he felt he had nothing on me.’

  ‘I know you’re not happy with your husband, Sarah,’ I probed gently.

  ‘Happy?’ Sarah’s face clouded momentarily and then she smiled. ‘With him? No. With Jennifer and Poppy and Jamie? Yes. But… oh, we need to find Lucy.’

  ‘Mummy?’ Allegra came into the kitchen, barefoot and in her pyjamas, suddenly shy at seeing a stranger sitting at the table so early in the morning.

  ‘Oh… oh is this Allegra?’ Sarah breathed, getting up from the table. ‘You weren’t here the other day, darling. Mummy’s told me all about you…’

  Unfortunately I hadn’t told Allegra all about Sarah.

  ‘Allegra, you know that Lucy is your real mummy…?’

  Allegra nodded, staring at Sarah who was trying not to cry as she devoured Allegra with her eyes. ‘Well, Granny Douglas isn’t my real mummy.’ Jesus, this was complicated. ‘…arah is my and Lucy’s real mummy and your real granny.’ I suddenly felt guiltily sorry for my mum and dad; after all, they were real to me and Allegra.

  ‘So does everyone have two mummies then?’

  ‘No, darling.’ Sarah smiled, taking Allegra’s hand. ‘Just like Mummy Lucy wasn’t well enough to look after you when you were born, I couldn’t look after your Mummy Lucy or Mummy Clementine when they were born…’

  ‘So, now I have two grannies and two mummies?’

  ‘Yes, darling,’ Sarah said, ‘and we all love you lots, but Mummy here…’ Sarah took my hand in her free one. ‘This Mummy here is your special one.’

  *

  Leaving Betty and Sophie in charge of Max, the three of us drove over to Mum and Dad who’d agreed to have Allegra for the day. While Sarah was eager to see where Lucy and I had spent our formative years, she suddenly panicked, overcome by nerves, and didn’t want to come into the house to meet my parents.

  ‘Later,’ she frowned. ‘Another time, I think, don’t you…?’

  And I understood.

  Once back in the car, I pointed the Mini in the direction of the town centre. We drove past the university and along the ring road towards Emerald Street.

  ‘I’m almost certain she won’t be anywhere round here,’ I said to Sarah as we drove past row upon row of mean terraced streets. ‘She’s moved on, said she has a lovely flat with this Adam guy. She’s clean, off the heroin, just biding her time until she can claim Allegra back.’

  ‘Right, OK,’ Sarah said, ‘but you never know. How about we park up and just wander round and ask anyone if they know her, and perhaps can get her and this Adam’s address in Leeds?’

  ‘I used to do that on a regular basis,’ I said. ‘It never got me anywhere because, unbeknown to me, Lucy had already moved to Leeds when I lived round here. Look.’ I pointed to the terraced house I had rented for almost two years. ‘That’s where Allegra and I used to live.’

  I couldn’t believe so much had happened since we’d moved out. I gave an involuntary shiver—where would Allegra and I have been now if Peter hadn’t come along and taken us on board?

  You’re a strong, capable woman, I reminded myself. You would have found work and you’d be renting somewhere, probably near Izzy, and you and Allegra would be fine…But then you wouldn’t have met Rafe Ahern… My heart did a little flip as I thought of Rafe… kissing me, his hands in my hair… telling me I’d got under his skin. But that would have been a good thing, I told myself angrily, because Rafe Ahern belongs to JoJo Kennedy…

  ‘Do you think…? Clem?’

  ‘Sorry, sorry, Sarah. What did you say?’ I wrested my thoughts away from the traitorous one and concentrated on what Sarah was saying as we walked the streets. It was almost eleven o’clock and the sun, beaming down on the cracked dirty pavements, was hot.

  ‘I was just thinking, didn’t you say you’d been to see some woman when you were looking for Lucy a year ago? Maybe we could go and knock on her door again? Does she live round here?’

  ‘Erm… Sheena. That’s it, Sheena.’ I couldn’t remember her name for a moment. We were just passing Emerald House, and I remembered she didn’t live too far past the tower block. ‘OK, but she didn’t know where Lucy was last time. And, I really do think Lucy’s totally moved on now. Here…’ I recognised the brightly painted red door that Yusuf and Musa had brought me to over a year ago in our search for Lucy and nodded towards it.

  ‘Come on,’ Sarah said, impatiently, leading the way.

  Sheena’s door was open and, as we walked down the alleyway to her garden, I could see her on her knees, doing something with trowel and pots. She looked up as we neared and I could see her wondering who we were.

  ‘Oh, it’s er…?’ Sheena frowned.

  ‘Clementine,’ I smiled.

  ‘I remember. You were looking for your twin sister?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘You found her then, I suppose?’

  ‘Well, sort of…’

  ‘Now she’s back…’

  ‘Back where?’

  ‘Emerald House. I thought you must know. Thought you must be on your way there…?’

  ‘No, I’m looking for her again. I really didn’t think she’d be down here now but Sarah…’ I pointed towards Sarah who was staring intently at Sheena, taking in everything she was saying. ‘Sorry, Sheena, this is Sarah… Sarah wanted to come down. I did see Lucy several weeks ago and she said she was living with someone called Adam.’

  Sheena snorted. ‘Yes, w
ell, I reckon Adam has lived with most of the girls down here.’ She stood up, rubbing her knees as she did so. ‘Arthritis… reckon it’s all that getting down on me knees to give the johns a good seeing to.’ She cackled lewdly. ‘Occupational hazard, love.’ Sheena laughed again before glancing both at me and then at Sarah. ‘Emerald House—your sister’s back there…’ She paused. ‘But she’s not in a good way…’

  *

  In the three or four weeks since I’d last seen her, Lucy appeared to have shrunk. She lay under the grubby pink and yellow candy-striped flannelette sheet, one thin arm flung out to the warm, stuffy room as she slept. As we stood by the bed, unsure what to do next, Lucy scratched constantly at the tell-tale tracks on her arm. There was an overpowering smell of cigarette smoke and perfume in the foetidly close space, as well as an underlying odour of dirt—of unwashed body.

  Lucy moaned in her sleep and then, as if realising she was no longer alone, slowly opened her eyes. Her pupils were mere pinpricks in her huge brown eyes, made larger by her gaunt pale face. She frowned, scratching again at the marks on her pale arms, looking from me to Sarah and back once again to me.

  ‘What do you want, Clem?’ Her words were slurred, almost incoherent.

  ‘Lucy…’ I was so shocked by her appearance I could hardly speak. ‘Lucy, I’m here for you. I want to help…’

  Lucy closed her eyes. ‘Too late, Clem, too late.’ She opened her eyes again. ‘Who the fuck is this? Some social worker you’ve brought? Some solicitor you’ve paraded down here to prove I can’t have Allegra back?’ A tear rolled down her cheek and on to the stained, unsheathed pillow.

  ‘Lucy, I’m Sarah. I’m your mother…’

  ‘My mother?’ Lucy stared at Sarah. ‘Like hell you are. That bitch up at home with her petty rules, with her middle-class… blue-loo down the bog… with her shoes off at the door… with her sodding serviettes… that’s my mother.’

  ‘Lucy, this is Sarah, our real mother.’ I knelt down by the bed, stroking my sister’s hair. Despite the heat of the day, her forehead felt clammy and cold. ‘I’ve found her…’