Ribbons in Her Hair

by Colette McCormick

  As the bus moved along I looked out of the window and watched the world go by. I was glad that we had visited and I was thrilled that the day had gone so well, but now I needed to go home and process everything.

  When I’d watched Mum doing the dishes I’d seen that I had something in common with her, but now I knew that there were other things too; things far more important than washing dishes. I believed that she was telling the truth when she said that she’d been trying to do what was best for me. I would never accept her idea of what that was but I couldn’t argue with the principle. What was best for my child would always be my prime concern too.

  Keeping up appearances had meant so much to Mum when I was growing up and I’d really believed that had been the reason she wanted me to go into hiding and then give my baby away without anyone knowing. But maybe I’d been wrong. She’d wanted a different life for me, one that involved a job and a husband before the baby came along. But it was like Miriam had said – like Mum herself had said: to her, Mary hadn’t existed. Mum had been thinking only about me. In her world, which I have to say is not always the same world that the rest of us live in, secret adoption was the only way out.

  I hadn’t understood my mother at all before that day. I’d seen her be the way that she was with the neighbours and how appearances mattered to her and I’d thought – no, I’d assumed – that that was her primary motive for wanting to send me away when the reality was that she just didn’t know how to be the kind of mother that I needed her to be.

  But she did love me. She had said so.

  I had been so stupid.

  ‘Will we come back again?’ A little voice beside me asked. I noticed that Mary didn’t look up from the doll that she was playing with as she asked the question.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I think we will.’

  She nodded her head. ‘I’m glad you and your mummy are friends again.’

  So was I.

  ***

  I phoned Mum the day after our first visit and she told me that Julie had had her baby just after midnight. It was a little boy and they were going to call him Michael. I told Mum that we’d see them on the weekend.

  ‘We’re looking forward to it,’ Mum said and I believed her.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Mary that she had a new cousin. When she came out of school that day, instead of going straight home we went to the shops to buy the baby a present. I didn’t have a lot of money but I managed to find a couple of T-shirts on a market stall. I let Mary choose them and she chose one that had an elephant on it and another with a teddy bear. She helped me wrap them up in blue tissue paper.

  She’d been very confused about what had happened to Julie the day before and she’d asked me why Aunty Julie had wet herself all over Gran’s sofa. I explained that she hadn’t wet herself really, that it was just a sign that her baby was coming. She left it at that but I could tell that there was other stuff going on in her head. What got me the most about that conversation was how easily Mary had accepted my mum as ‘Gran’. She’d never met the woman before and now it was like she had known her forever.

  Mandy had been eager to hear all about our visit and she laughed her head off when I told her that the shock had sent Julie into labour. When I’d told her that we were going she’d tried to talk me out of it but now that the visit was over she said that she was glad it had gone well. I asked her if she thought she might contact her mum, but she said, ‘No, probably not,’ and I was sad for her.

  She did contact her mum again but not until years later. And we’ve made lots more bus trips since then to see my parents and life has gone on, the way it does.

  On one of those visits, we met Tim; well ‘met’ might be stretching it a bit. We walked past him and his mates as they were fixing a car.

  Mary would have been about fifteen by then and it was funny in a way because she had asked about him not long before; she’d wanted to know what he was like. I wasn’t very complimentary in my answers but Mary understood better after the day that we saw him.

  It was one of his mates, Ben I think he was called, who saw us first and he said something to Tim and this other bloke and the next thing I knew they were all nudging each other and giggling like twelve-year-old schoolgirls. It was pathetic really and if I’d ever needed a reminder of the lucky escape I’d had, that was it.

  I didn’t have to tell Mary who he was because it must have been like looking in a mirror for her. She may have had my mother’s eyes but the rest of her was pure Tim. She said something uncomplimentary about him herself and we carried on our way to my mum’s house. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her mention her dad since.

  I didn’t tell Mum or Dad about it because, even after all those years, it was still something that we didn’t talk about. They loved Mary but how she’d come into their lives was sort of swept under the carpet.

  Once, in the early days, Ida had stopped me in the street, got herself introduced to Mary and asked me if her dad was with us. It was a pretty poor attempt at getting the gossip because she only had to look at Mary to see who her dad was. I just said that he wasn’t with us today and, ‘Sorry, but we have to rush,’ before making a quick escape.

  ‘Lovely to see you again, Susan,’ she called down the street. ‘Nice to meet you, Mary.’

  ‘What did she want?’ Mum asked. She was at the door waiting for us.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘She just wondered who Mary was.’

  ‘What did you tell her?’

  ‘That she was Mary.’

  ‘Nosy cow.’

  The words pot and kettle came to mind but I didn’t say anything.

  Ida was the only one of Mum’s neighbours that ever asked about Mary’s dad. She was the only one to pretend that she didn’t really know what had happened. Some of the old neighbours had moved away in the years that I’d been gone and the rest didn’t seem to care. They all had problems of their own. Ida’s been dead a few years now though so no one asks about Mary’s dad any more.

  For a few months after the time we’d seen Tim, I’d half expected him to make some attempt to contact me but he never did. I thought maybe he might want to get to know his daughter. He must have known that Mary was his, one of many of his, from what I understand, living on the estate. Well, a few, at least. I don’t know if he has any sort of relationship with any of them, but as time went on I was relieved that he apparently didn’t want one with Mary either. I expect if he had come sniffing round she would have told him to get lost anyway. Mary knows that Tim has other children that she has half-siblings, but she has never shown any interest in finding out about them. She once called him her ‘sperm donor’ and I thought that was an adequate description. I was pleased she had no interest in him because, well, if I’m honest, Mary is my daughter.

  ***

  Mary told me recently that I’m going to be a grandma and I couldn’t be happier. She’s been living with Jack for a few years and I think they’ve been trying for a baby for a while. I like Jack a lot. He has a good job and he works hard so I know he’ll be able to provide for Mary and the baby but, more than that, he loves her – idolises her even. They are so happy together.

  When Mum found out, she asked if they would be getting married but they won’t be, not yet anyway. She says she doesn’t understand the world and I suppose things must have been very different when she was young. I think she’s looking forward to having a great-grandchild even though she says it makes her feel very old.

  Mary had her scan today and found out that she is having a little girl. When I rang Mum to tell her she was going to have a great-granddaughter she asked if they had chosen any names yet.

  ‘It won’t be one of those daft names, will it? There’s a lass down the road called her baby Aurora. Aurora, for God’s sake. At least she’ll be the only one in her class.’

  I said I didn’t know if they’d discussed names but I was fairly certain that Aurora wouldn’t be high on the list.

  Mary showed me the photograph of
the baby girl that is still in her stomach and I was amazed. In my day we had scans but they were just images on a screen, something that only the mother saw. Now they are something that the whole family can enjoy.

  Mary asked me if I had any advice for her and I told her that the best advice I could give her was to make sure that her child knew that she was loved, to enjoy every moment of her and to make sure that she puts ribbons her daughter’s hair.

  What can I say? Ribbons mean a lot to me.

  JEAN

  Julie had said that she would get the door and I’d let her. I was peeling potatoes and my hands were filthy – I always buy the unwashed potatoes you see; they’re a bit dirtier but what do you expect from something that’s grown in the ground? They were always covered in dirt when I was young and I don’t see the need to get someone else to wash my potatoes now.

  Like I said, my hands were wet and dirty, so I let Julie get the door. We weren’t expecting anyone so I strained my ears to hear who it was. Jehovah’s Witnesses probably and they’d get short shrift from Julie. But there was no noise, not even the sound of the door closing so I dried my hands on a tea towel and popped my head out of the kitchen to look down the hallway. Julie was standing at the door looking out. She was holding on to the jamb like she was about to collapse or something. I was scared because she only had a couple of weeks to go before the baby came, so I went to see what was going on and who was at the door.

  I got the shock of my life when I saw Susan standing there. She had the little one with her and the sight of her took my breath away. She was like the spit out of Tim Preston’s mouth. She had that same red tinge in her blonde hair and the same heart-shaped face. There was something about her eyes that didn’t fit with the rest of her face but, apart from that, she was his. There was no denying that he was a good-looking lad but his daughter was stunning.

  I brought them into the house and had a quick look in the street but luckily there was no one around. Not that I was so bothered by what the neighbours thought by then, but old habits die hard.

  Those first few minutes were a bit awkward. I mean, what were we supposed to say to each other after all that time? The little one broke the ice by introducing herself and as I looked at her I thought to myself, What the hell were you thinking, Jean? How could you have wanted to give this away?

  She was this tiny dot of a thing holding tight on to her mum with one hand and holding her other out for me to shake. I took hold of her hand and told her that I was her gran and for the first time in my life I knew what it felt like to instantly love something, or someone. I couldn’t help myself. But I still had her mother to contend with and there was an awkward silence because I don’t think either of us knew what to say.

  I’d imagined seeing Susan again so many times and spent hours thinking about what I would say and do, but now that the moment had arrived all that went out the window. Julie took the little one away and left us to it.

  I didn’t say I was sorry – not then anyway – but I did say that I’d only been trying to do what I’d thought was best for her. And she said that so had she. There was a defiance about her that I hadn’t seen before. She’d changed but I suppose that was only to be expected: she’d had to be strong for the little ’un. I said that Mary looked like a lovely little girl and Susan said that she had been worth everything. I didn’t need to ask her what she meant by that; we both knew.

  I know I’m an old woman now and it was such a long time ago but I’ll never forget that day or how I felt. It was like the prodigal son returning home, except this time it was a daughter. I was so happy to see her. With all my heart I wished that I could hug her and tell her how happy I was to see her but that’s not the type of person I am and I couldn’t bring myself to do it, not right away. I needed more time.

  Julie went into labour that day. Her waters broke while she was sitting on the sofa. Do you know, once upon a time I’d have been horrified about the mess but that day I couldn’t have cared less. She had a little boy just after midnight and somehow I’d gained two grandchildren in one day.

  Susan and I had a chance to talk after dinner when we were washing up. It was just the two of us so we were able to speak properly. I did manage to get the words out then and apologise and Susan seemed to accept it. Now she was a mother herself she was able to understand that I’d only been trying to do what I thought best for my child.

  I was sorry when it was time for them to go. Just before they left, I finally got over the ridiculous hurdle that had been holding me back for so many years and I hugged my daughter. I just felt something pull me towards her. My God, it felt good! I wished that I had done it earlier, when she was little, but better late than never – isn’t that what they say? I think I shocked her because it took a second or two for her to hug me back. And when she did, it was the best feeling in the world. I told her I loved her and she said that she loved me too … but I knew that already.

  Susan didn’t get to see Helen that day because they had to get the bus back. They couldn’t stay over because they didn’t have anything with them – I suppose she hadn’t known how things would be when she arrived – and, anyway, Mary had school the next day. Helen got the shock of her life when I told her. She asked a few questions but she didn’t say much, though she did say that she was worried about Julie.

  We’d been drinking brandy when Helen and Richard came round later that evening and I don’t think Helen was very impressed. She didn’t say anything, but you could just tell. I didn’t care though; we were celebrating.

  Mick was a different person after Susan came back. He had his princess again and so he was happy. He adored Mary from the moment he saw her … no, what am I saying? He’d adored her since he’d known she was born, long before he ever met her. She was Susan’s child and that made her special. It didn’t matter how many grandchildren he had in the future, Mary would always be special, just like her mum.

  I was happy too. Mick had always said she would come back and I was glad that he was right I just couldn’t show it like he did. I knew I was going to have to learn how to show my emotions but, if I’m honest, I’ve never really got the hang of it.

  Julie was over the moon to have her sister back. They hadn’t been close when they were young but they’d turned a corner just before it all kicked off and, to give Julie her due, she’d always been on Susan’s side. Helen seemed happy enough but she’s more like me and didn’t show what she was feeling. She’d always been the most independent of the three and she still kept herself to herself a lot of the time. I’d blamed Robert’s mother for the way she’d been with us over the years but maybe it had just been the way she was. Richard was good for her though, so I wasn’t worried about her.

  Susan and Mary have never come back to live here but they have been regular visitors and when Susan got a phone of her own we rang each other regularly; we’d speak a couple of times a week. At last I was having a relationship with my daughter and I kicked myself over all the time that we had lost. I blamed myself for it; I knew I hadn’t been the kind of mother that Susan wanted, that she needed. I saw the way that she was with her own daughter – the cuddles, the kisses, the secret looks that only they understood – and I was jealous. Susan was the type of mother that I wished I could have been if only things had been different.

  But what was done was done and there was nothing I could do about it. All I could do was try to be different from then on and though it’s not been easy for me to be that type of person I think I’m getting better at it.

  Mary was a lovely girl, a credit to her mother, but I still couldn’t get away from the feeling that because of her Susan didn’t have the kind of life that she could have had. Of all my girls, Susan was the one that could have done something with her life, made something of herself, but instead she was still alone and living in a council house with a daughter who was the image of a man that didn’t want her. I’d told her that no man would want her when she had another man’s child. It gave me no pleas
ure to be right, but it didn’t seem to bother Susan. What was it that she had said though, the day she came back and we were standing in the hallway? She’d said that it had all been worth it. Susan had been many things but a liar wasn’t one of them.

  I often wondered what she thought when she looked at Mary, who must have been a constant reminder to her of, well, you-know-who, but I never asked her and she never said.

  They passed in the street once. Mary would have been a teenager by then but she had lost none of her father’s looks. I was in the front bedroom when I heard a lot of noise outside. Tim was just down the street with Ben Morris and that lad that had just moved in with his wife and two kids. They were all standing by a car, carrying on, laughing and joking, while someone was underneath the car fixing it. I couldn’t see who it was but if I’d had to guess I’d say it was Ben’s brother Daniel because he was always fiddling with cars. Anyway, I knew that Susan and Mary were due so I’d gone upstairs into the front bedroom so I could watch for them coming. I wondered if I should tell Mick so that he could go and meet them but it was too late for that; they were already coming round the corner. My heart was in my mouth.

  I couldn’t hear what was being said but it was obvious that they had been seen. Ben and the other lad started nudging and pushing Tim and even through the closed window I could hear them laughing. I was so proud of Susan when she just kept her head up, looked forward and walked on past. She didn’t even acknowledge him.

  I think that is the only time that Mary has ever seen her dad.

  I think that was also the year that James went off to university; that was a first for this family. Helen had never had any more children so she doted on James and it broke her heart to see him go. I tried telling her that it was a good thing but she just cried and then she cried a bit more.