‘We’ve found her. She wants you. She registered an interest to meet you!’ I blurt out, saying anything I can to stop Kath spiralling down in this awful way. I’d meant to build up to it gently, find the perfect way to introduce it, but the words race out.
Kath looks up instantly, her hands shaking and her eyes so wide I think I really should have said all that better, eased her in a bit.
‘You’ve found my Eleanor?’ Kath says, incredulous. ‘My baby Eleanor?’
‘Yes!’ There’s a huge smile on my face now, and my own tears are falling. ‘We don’t know where she is but the agency does, and if you want to meet her, all you have to do is say.’
‘In all of my days I never thought I would ever see her again,’ Kath whispers. ‘I thought she’d hate me.’ She looks blankly ahead.
‘Kath, who in their right mind could ever hate you?’ I say.
‘The little girl who was given away. The little girl who felt her mother didn’t want her, that she was unloved. You talk so often about Mum Guilt, but this is a Mum Guilt that has burnt a hole in my heart all these years. I let my baby go. I gave her away. I didn’t fight for her, and I’ve never even thought of looking for her,’ Kath sobs.
‘No. No, no, no. You did not give her up, you placed her for adoption. They don’t use that language anymore because it’s not right. You did what you had to do. I know it was unimaginably awful for you, but I know, and Eleanor knows, that it wasn’t because you didn’t love her. You were almost a child yourself! They were different times. You can’t think like that!’ I cry with her, feeling so impassioned that Kath feels this way. After all these years of heartache, she doesn’t deserve to suffer such pain right at this moment, when we should be celebrating.
‘I want to see her. I want to see my daughter,’ Kath says, lifting her head up and looking me straight in the eye.
I STAY WITH KATH for over an hour, talking about her past, about Dad, about me when I was a baby, and Lyla, and now Willow. Kath briefly mentions how kind Edward was to her about it all, and I feel a pang in my heart for how much I want him to be back in our lives. I know I’m being stubborn but I don’t know what to do now; I’ve left it weeks, and the monster feels too big to face. I’ve messed it all up, but there are bigger things to deal with here, like Kath and work and, to my horror, I’ve just realised tonight is the night I agreed Lyla could have Corinthia to stay over.
I say my goodbyes to Kath, reassuring her that everything’s going to be all right, and she reassures me that she’s going to be fine tonight (Colin’s coming over again, and I have a feeling she’s going to have a lot to talk about with him), and I drive home to have a quick tidy-up before I head out to pick up Lyla and Corinthia from holiday club.
As I wait for Lyla and her friend, I’m almost overwhelmed with how lucky I am that I get to do this. I think of Kath missing out on her little girl growing up – how she never got to be the mum waiting at the school gates. It makes me want to hug Lyla that little bit tighter, and it even softens my heart (only a bit, mind you) when I think of Valerie and her bullying ways. Maybe it’s not so bad that Lyla has chosen Corinthia to be her friend. Don’t all of us need a second chance sometimes?
THIRTY-FOUR
SEPTEMBER
IT’S BEEN FIVE WEEKS since I told Kath we’d made contact with Eleanor, but I think for all of us it’s felt like longer. Life has ticked on: work’s gone well (the Mara Isso SS pitch has been submitted, and my beauty tutorials are almost ready to go live).
In August, I threw a little birthday party for Lyla. How is she growing this fast? Didn’t I just have a toddler about forty minutes ago? Instead of hiring the hall and doing a big full class thing, she just wanted to invite her ‘most absolute best friends’ for a movie night and sleepover and I wasn’t going to argue with that – far less effort than crafting sixty billion mermaid decorations like last year! This year, though, we did have the addition of new friend Corinthia. Now I don’t actually mind her – you can’t not like a child, can you? (Well you can but you can’t admit it.) But her mother, Valerie, is a different kettle of fish altogether.
As I opened the door to ‘greet’ her and let Corinthia in, she said, ‘Sorry I’m not parked on the drive, I couldn’t fit the Range Rover on it.’ Good old Valerie. Never disappoints with a put-down. As she stepped over the mat to settle Corinthia in – saying, ‘I won’t step on the mat if you don’t mind, it’s a bit grubby and these shoes are Chanel,’ – I noticed something different in the post. A birthday card with an airmail sticker on the front. Written on the back was If undelivered, return to a slimy worm.
Edward. He sent her a card.
After Lyla had opened it and tossed it to one side with all the other gifts and cards, I took a moment to properly look at it. No mention of me. No point dwelling. Life goes on.
Now, back at school for autumn, since the sleepover Lyla seems to have fully brought Corinthia into her little gang with her other besties Roo (Finola’s son) and Clara (Gillian’s daughter), and I’ve spent some much-needed time with Lacey and my mummy friends – like mother, like daughter.
Today, though, Kath the mother is meeting her daughter, and I feel so many emotions, I have already actually been sick. I decide not to tell Kath this as I arrive to collect her, because this is her day and I’m here to do anything I can to help it run smoothly for her.
Opening the door, I can tell Kath’s made an effort.
‘Oh Kath, you look absolutely gorgeous,’ I say, almost breathless at how beautiful she looks.
Kath’s selected a blush-pink silk shirt with little pearls for buttons that I suspect she’s sewn on herself. She’s tucked the shirt neatly into a long, flowy navy-blue skirt that of course has been ‘Kath’d’, but instead of pompoms, she’s sewn little crescent moons in silver thread all around the waistband and hem, to match. She’s wearing brown leather brogues with silver laces and, of course, as she wouldn’t be finished without an extra flourish or two, she’s wrapped herself in a handmade silver shawl that has a fringe of little silver feathers hanging from it. She still looks every inch Kath, but a coordinated, thoughtfully put-together version, and with her cheeks pink and eyes sparkling with what I hope is excitement, she’s looking absolutely radiant.
‘Well, I want to make a good impression on my daughter,’ she says, clearly relishing being able to use the word, picking up her mobile (in a Lavender Lovies phone case) and slipping it into her handbag. ‘I’ve waited thirty-eight years for this moment. I’m ready,’ she says, so calmly I feel in awe.
‘Then let’s go,’ I say, turning round and heading back to the car.
We drive the short journey to the park we’ve agreed to meet in and pause for a moment in the car park. I’m giddy with excitement, sweaty with nerves, anxious, happy, sad and scared all at once, so I can’t even imagine what it must be like for Kath. She’s not said much on the drive over, but nor have I. We’ve sat in a comfortable silence, both aware that our lives are about to change forever.
‘She said she’d be waiting on the bench opposite the swings, so shall we head over?’ I suggest.
‘Just a minute,’ Kath says, looking straight ahead, a quiver to her voice.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ I say, putting my hand on her arm. ‘I love you, Lyla loves you and you’ve given us all the love in the world. Now we have a chance to let Eleanor know that love is waiting for her if she wants it,’ I add.
The walk over to the swings probably takes only a minute, but every footstep feels like a mile. As we approach, we see a woman with long blonde hair, tied in a plait, sitting alone with her back to us. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
‘Kath,’ I whisper, looking at her.
‘I know,’ she says. I think she’s going to stop, and for a moment I even fear Kath is going to turn round and flee. But instead she picks up her pace.
We approach the bench, and the woman turns to us.
For a moment, the whole world stands still and ev
ery sound stops. This woman is beautiful. She has Kath’s sapphire-blue eyes and a soft look to her face. Almost in slow motion, she stands up and puts her hand to her mouth.
Kath takes two steps forward and they fall into each other’s arms and hold each other for long minutes. I can see tears running down Eleanor’s face, and Kath just says, ‘My baby, my sweet baby,’ over and over again until I’m having to scrunch up my face so hard to stop myself from crying even more. I don’t think I have ever witnessed a more precious moment than this in my whole life.
They both sit down and beckon to me. I join them on the bench.
‘This is my niece, Robin, your cousin. Though I think you must know of each other from making contact.’ Kath takes the lead so easily.
‘We know each other, but only by name. So lovely to meet you at last,’ she says, leaning in for a hug.
I wrap my arms around her. Kath’s daughter. Since Kath has been like a mum to me for so many years, perhaps I should have prepared myself more for how this moment feels to me. Not like meeting a cousin. More like embracing a sister. As I let her go, it’s like looking into Kath’s eyes.
Kath takes both of Eleanor’s hands and looks into her face. ‘I’ve so much to ask you, and so much to catch up on, but before we do any of that, I want you to know I’ve always loved you. I never wanted to give … to place you for adoption. I thought of you every day, lit candles for you on your birthday, looked out for you with every little blonde girl I passed, and missed you for all of these years. You were, and are, loved. I will understand if you’re angry or resentful, and I won’t begrudge you if you’d rather not have us in your life, but I just need you to know that, to me, you are my beautiful, perfect baby, and I will love you for as long as I live.’
At this, we are all flooded with even more emotion.
Eleanor is quiet for a moment. Then she takes a breath. ‘I don’t even know where to start, but I want you to know I’m not cross. My mum, my adoptive mum, I mean, only ever spoke highly of you. She told me about a young girl with blonde hair like Rapunzel who hadn’t been able to keep me but who had loved me very much. She told me how you had generously given her the greatest gift anyone could ever give, because she’d never been able to have children of her own. I’ve always known you loved me. When I was old enough, my mum gave me your note that she found. I’ve always felt twice the love, because there’s been you, far away but somewhere, loving me, and my mum, loving me each day.’
‘Yes. Always loving you from far away. Your … mum,’ Kath struggles, and I know this must be so hard for her to say, ‘is clearly a marvellous woman, and one day I’d like to meet her and thank her with all my heart for raising you. Were you happy, as a child?’ Kath asks tentatively.
‘I was. I had the most lovely childhood. I grew up not too far from here. It was just me and Mum and Dad. They’re still going, in their seventies now. I was good at school but was never particularly academic, much better at arts and crafts, really. I left to work in a school as a teaching assistant, and then a bit later on in my twenties I went to uni and trained to be an art teacher. I met a lovely man there, and we ended up getting married, eleven years ago now.’ She smiles.
‘How wonderful,’ Kath gushes, still holding both her hands. ‘An art teacher! I love making things,’ Kath begins, but is interrupted by two little girls, one a bit bigger than Lyla and one smaller, running up to our bench from the swings, both with blonde plaits framing their faces.
‘Mummy! Is this the special lady? Is this your special friend?’ the younger one asks, breathless from the run.
‘Yes! Girls, this is Kath!’ Eleanor says, beaming at both of them.
And that’s the moment Kath realises she has two granddaughters, her very own gang of Wilde women.
THIRTY-FIVE
EITHER SOMETHING’S IN THE air, or life is going pretty amazingly right now, because I take a moment to look around the room, and everyone seems so full of life.
The latest Women Who Win evening finished half an hour ago, and as we are clearing away, I’m telling Gloria, Gillian and Finola about my live beauty tutorials project for MADE IT. Since we got back, I’ve been finalising plans for it and soon, we have our first session. I’ve even delegated some of the work to Skye – which is a pretty big step for me, considering I’m normally the world’s worst person at asking for help, and especially at work, after it all nearly went so wrong with Mara Isso last year. Geed up by the WWW meeting, the fact it’s a Friday and the children are all at a sleepover with Corinthia (yes, I know, the frost has miraculously thawed slightly with Valerie … maybe she did find a good Sugar Daddy after all, ha ha), Gloria asks if we can pop in and see the ‘incredible venue you’ve been raving about!’.
Our session tonight was titled ‘Stop Worrying, Stop Saying You’re Fine, Ask for Help’, and I decided to take the ‘stop worrying’ element and run with it. I ping a text over to Lacey.
Hey babe! Bit of an ask, but is there any chance I could swing round and pick up Dovington’s keys? I’d love to show Gloria and the girls the set-up we put in with the mirrors and lights, if it’s OK? xxx
We’ve spent the last week totally transforming the back room. We still have the old oak table (because a) it’s useful, and b) that room wouldn’t be right without that battered, paint-splattered, trusty old table that Lacey and I have spent so many hours at), but round the edges of the room, instead of the huge metal shelving units, we’ve painted the walls the palest shell pink, added huge mirrors framed by movie star-style light bulbs and trendy see-through acrylic chairs. Each of the eight stations has a little shelf under the mirror for students’ palettes and brushes, and at the head of the room there’s the tutor’s station with a similar camera-to-screen set-up to the one we had at the second Women Who Win session, so the students can see what they are being taught.
Since Dovington’s is a florist’s, Kath suggested we should have floral art on the walls, and so for the last few days, she and Eleanor have spent time together in here stencilling the most beautiful wild flower murals, twisting and turning around the mirrors and up to the ceilings. And yes, I’ve even started on Skye’s great idea of the flower wall, for our clients to get the perfect Insta.
Spooky! I was just talking about the classroom! Kath popped in with Eleanor. Told me about the painting. We were gonna head over and have another look, anyway! Meet you all there in 20? Xxx
So, half an hour later, I’m standing in one of my favourite places in the world with three school mum friends that I couldn’t admire more; my gorgeous auntie and her new-found daughter, who seems so like her and so bonded with her already; my best friend, who, thanks to having a month of Piper staying with her and to reaching out for help from her doctor, seems so, so much better; beautiful baby Willow; and Karl, who’s put the golf on hold so that every weekend he’s home with his family. Apparently, he’s even put in a request for flexible hours, so he can be around as much as he can while Willow’s tiny. And as we stand in Dovington’s, I can see a glimmer of pride in Lacey’s eyes – this is her business, and it will be waiting for her whenever she’s ready to step back in.
Although I’m not related to all of these people, they’re my chosen family. I spend a moment thinking about the people in my life who make it what it is and who’ve been there through thick and thin.
‘What a summer it’s been, eh?’ says Lacey, rubbing her shoulders a bit as the nights are getting longer and cooler.
We stand and look at Eleanor holding Willow as Kath coos.
‘Shit me, Lace. What an adventure!’ I reply, still not over how much Eleanor and Kath look like each other.
‘Thanks for sticking by me when I was a bit, well, weird,’ Lacey says quietly.
‘You weren’t weird, Lace, you were really poorly. I’ll always stick by you – always have, always will, here till the bitter end,’ I say, smiling. ‘It’s not like I’ve not been through enough, and you’ve always had my back, too,’ I add as Karl walks over and gives
Lacey a kiss on the forehead.
By now, Finola, Gillian and Gloria have looked round the room and admired all our hard work.
‘This place is swell!’ Gloria enthuses in her lovely American drawl. ‘I’m gonna book myself a lesson straightaway, if it means I’ll wake up every day looking like you!’
‘Aha-ha, that’s very kind of you, but don’t scare away future customers with promises like that!’ I laugh.
‘Looks like you’ve got all your ducks in a row now, Robin!’ Gillian smiles, giving me a quick congratulatory hug.
‘Except the situation with that nice chap you had on the go, my dear,’ Finola adds.
There’s a wave of tension in the room.
‘She doesn’t need a man if she doesn’t want one,’ Lacey says supportively, slightly irked by Finola’s bold statement.
My heart hurts. I know Finola was only trying to be kind, in her usual blunt way. And sometimes it does me good to have friends help me face things head-on. And she’s right: I do want Edward. In fact, overwhelmed with emotion after Kath met Eleanor, I decided I should, ahem, grab the bull by the horns, and that Edward deserved to know the happy news. So we’ve texted a little bit and had a couple of stilted FaceTimes, but all we’ve spoken about is Kath and Eleanor, and how Lyla is settling in to the new school year. Nothing personal, nothing about us, and I don’t know how to find the words to change that. I miss him. I miss everything about him, even the socks in the duvet. In fact, even Lyla has asked after him a few times, wondering where her favourite worm-man is.
‘I do want a man, that man, but he doesn’t want me. He hasn’t come and swept me off my feet, has he?’ I say, the vibe in the room feeling really intense all of a sudden.
‘I’m sorry, I know I don’t know the situation very well,’ begins Eleanor softly, ‘but just because someone hasn’t come for you, it doesn’t mean they don’t want you.’
Wilde Women Page 21
