Doing the Right Thing

by Barbara Elsborg

  “I really am sorry, Addie. Can you forgive me?” Lisa asked. “I had no idea she’d done that to your room. I left her in the house while I went out with David.” Addie forgave her, but knew things wouldn’t be the same between them.

  No sooner had David and Lisa gone, than Finn appeared.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Addie thought she was going to get fed up of hearing those words and fed up of lying and saying she was fine, when she wasn’t fine at all. She stuffed a chocolate in her mouth.

  “We’ve brought you a present. It’s from the three of us,” Finn said and handed her a mobile phone. “It’s for Christmas, but we thought you’d like it now in case there was anyone you wanted to call. It’s a pay-as-you-go. There’s a hundred pounds’ worth of credit on it.”

  “Thanks, Finn. That’s great,” she said.

  They couldn’t know that she had no one to call.

  Ed and Will phoned the house. When she refused to speak to them, they turned up—though never together. Addie wouldn’t see them. Flowers arrived from both. Addie wouldn’t have them in her room. She wanted to forget and they wouldn’t let her. A large cheque arrived from Will to cover the damage done by Vee. Addie ripped it in half.

  Addie didn’t leave her bedroom, seldom stirred from the bed. She lay curled up, clutching the little grey bear, waiting for her heart to stop aching or to simply stop. Ed and Will had been defeated by her mother. Although she’d said she didn’t want to see them, they’d accepted it. A tiny part of her wished one of them had forced his way in and raced up the stairs to save her. But maybe that only happened in the movies. In the end, Addie realized nothing was going to happen. Unless she did something, her life would just go on in its dreary, disappointing way. She had to save herself.

  She’d spent too much of her life saying sorry. Things had to change. She had to change. How could she expect anyone to love her, if she didn’t love herself? She was worth loving. There was nothing wrong with her. Only she didn’t want to be in love because it hurt. She could have neither Will nor Ed because having one would destroy the other. So she’d done the right thing and given them both up.

  Then she cried because she didn’t want both of them, she only wanted one and she would never be able to tell him.

  Addie didn’t venture downstairs until the day before Christmas Eve. She waited until her mother had gone out. Mince pies cooled on the work surface. Addie wondered if her mother had counted them, ate one anyway and rearranged the rest so there was no gap. The mince pie was followed by packet of cheese straws. She’d only meant to eat one and hadn’t been able to stop. Addie almost threw the packet in the bin but knew her mother would notice. She opened the drawer to get the key to the back door in order to hide the evidence in the dustbin and made a discovery.

  Twenty “get well soon” cards from friends and students at Easyspeak language school and one from Magelan’s signed by everyone in the office and garage, even Genghis. But not by Will and Ed. Every envelope had been opened. Addie sat and read the messages and felt overwhelmed. Why had her mother hidden them?

  She made herself a cup of coffee, sat and waited.

  “About time you pulled yourself together,” her mother muttered as she walked into the kitchen. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.” Like death.

  Joan stared at the mince pies, then looked at Addie.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” Addie asked.

  “You could have washed the dishes.” Joan turned on the tap and began to fill the bowl. “I’ve put two hundred pounds in your bank account. You can buy more Christmas presents and pay me back when you get another job.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Obviously, you’ll have to live here for a while. I won’t charge you rent, you can help me around the house. What’s happened isn’t entirely your fault.”

  Addie knew that was what she’d been waiting for. The blow to knock some sense into her head.

  “None of it is my fault. Do you think I wanted to be attacked?”

  Her mother harrumphed. “You left the door open. You were asking for trouble. Then you tried to fight. You didn’t use any common sense.”

  The fact that her mother was right, made it worse. But Addie wouldn’t back down now. She wanted answers.

  “Why didn’t you give me all the get-well cards?”

  Her mother scrubbed at a saucepan.

  “Why didn’t you want me to know that people cared about me?”

  Silence.

  “Why don’t you love me?” Addie tried.

  Her mother turned away from the sink, her hands dropping suds to the tiled floor.

  Addie took a deep breath. “What have I done that’s so bad, you can’t even stand to let me kiss you or hug you? The boys hug you, but you barely tolerate a touch from me. I don’t understand. What did I do?” Addie tried not to sound hopeful with her next question. “Was I adopted?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve seen your birth certificate. You know whose child you are.”

  Addie watched the soapy drops making a puddle on the floor, and couldn’t raise her eyes to her mother’s face because she’d desperately hoped for adoption, hoped she wasn’t related to this person who disliked her. Then she looked up, because whatever the truth, she needed to know.

  “You don’t even like me.” Addie stared straight at her mother. “You’ve never said you’re proud of me, that I look nice, or that I’m pretty. It’s almost as though you take delight in finding me a disappointment.”

  Joan grabbed a tea towel and dried her hands. “I just want you to make something of yourself, be someone.”

  “I am someone,” Addie shot back. “I’m—”

  “You have no job, no money, and no foot on the housing ladder.”

  “If you remember, I came back to Leeds because I was asked to. The job at Booth’s was a stop-gap. I can look for a proper job now.”

  Her mother snorted. “Doing what with no skills, no professional qualifications?”

  “I have a degree.”

  “What use is Japanese if you don’t like Japan? You only did it because you knew your father and I would think it was a waste of time. That’s been you all along. Deliberately awkward. I did everything I could to make sure you turned out right, but you resisted me all the way.” Her mother’s eyes tightened, every line on her face seemed deeper.

  Addie wouldn’t back down. “Nothing I ever did was good enough. You’ve never loved me. Dad didn’t either. You never put your arms around me, never said you loved me.”

  Her mother said nothing. She turned and put her hands back in the washing up bowl. Addie swallowed hard. This wasn’t going to end with them crying in each other’s arms. Then her mother spoke again, her back toward Addie.

  “I was raped.”

  The words hung in the air between them as though her mother wished them back and Addie wished them not heard. Three words and Addie thought she understood everything. Her mother washed a glass, rinsed the soap away and put it on the draining board.

  “The result of the rape was a nasty sexually transmitted disease and you. How could anything beautiful come out of that?”

  Addie realized she hadn’t understood at all.

  Her mother’s flat voice went on, addressing her image in the window, not Addie. “I was coming out of church. I’d been to do the flowers and your biological father grabbed me in the graveyard. He wore a balaclava, but I saw his eyes. You have the same eyes. The exact. Same. Vile. Eyes.”

  Her mother turned around. Addie wanted to hold her but the look on her mother’s face was one of hate. The last spark of hope in Addie fluttered and went out.

  “The boys don’t know and I don’t want them to. I didn’t want you to know. But you pushed and pushed.”

  Addie’s world slammed to a halt.

  “Satisfied now? I won’t say any more about it, so don’t mention it again. I could have had you aborted, but I thought it was wrong. Silas was a decent m
an and accepted you as if you were his. We did our best, but it wasn’t enough. Whatever genetic donation you got from that man dominates what I gave you.”

  There was complete silence. Even the kitchen clock held its breath.

  Addie pressed her nails into her palms. “I’m very sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you. Thank you for lending me the money. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.” She took a deep breath. “I’m leaving tomorrow for the Lake District to spend Christmas with friends, so I’ll sleep at my place tonight to see what I can salvage of my things. I’ll buy the replacement presents this afternoon and drop them off at Finn’s.”

  Addie could hardly believe she spoke coherently. She felt as though she was being pressed between two sheets of metal. Everywhere hurt. Her mother had done the right thing and not had an abortion and then done the wrong thing and blamed Addie for an act of violence that wasn’t her fault. How could she do that to a child?

  “Your brothers are expecting you to spend Christmas here,” said her mother.

  But you don’t want me, Addie thought. She’d never been wanted.

  “My friends are looking forward to seeing me.” She heard her voice break and as the lie came from her mouth, a powerful surge of pain spiralled through her.

  “You may as well take your presents with you.”

  Joan pushed three small packets into a plastic bag, thrust it at Addie and turned away. Addie moved up behind her and put her arms around her. Her mother stiffened and Addie let her go. Addie knew she’d never try to touch her again.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  As she left the house, Addie was filled with a strange kind of contentment knowing she wasn’t the problem, only what she represented. When her mother looked at her, she didn’t see her daughter, but the memory of something awful—the man who’d raped her. So Addie was lovable, just not to her mother and father. She understood now, though it didn’t make it right.

  Her mind flicked back over the years, remembering how her parents seemed reluctant to celebrate her birthday, the frequent lectures about not allowing lecherous men to touch her, and the way the TV was switched off at the slightest hint of nudity. Now she knew why. Her mother had frightened her about sex and made Addie think it was something bad. Once she’d left home and started her diet of romance books, Addie learned that it wasn’t, but thought it was an unattainable dream.

  What her parents had done, treating her like an outcast, was unkind beyond belief. How could they blame her? But it explained everything. All the comments about her appearance, all their attempts to change her had been because she wasn’t their creation, not like her brothers. Addie would never have treated a child of hers in that way.

  Then she wondered about the man who was her natural father, though there had been nothing natural about what he’d done to her mother. Addie would never know him, or anything about him. She’d never felt so alone in her entire life.

  The bell rang the following morning as Addie dragged another plastic bag of her ruined possessions down the stairs. She opened the door to Will and Ed and her heart lurched into an unsteady beat. Ed hung back a few steps behind Will, his eyes fixed on the ground, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else. She felt the same way. Will was trying to smile and failing, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

  “We’d like to talk to you,” Will said. “Can we come in?”

  Addie hesitated. She’d told herself that never seeing either of them again was the best way to get through this, but her feet developed a mind of their own and she stepped aside.

  “Santa been early?” Ed asked as he passed the line of black bags in the hall. Addie looked up and saw him wince as Will elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Oh, sorry,” Ed muttered, staring at the nearest bag.

  Addie pushed down the headless teddy bear poking from the top.

  “How are you feeling?” Will asked.

  “Fine, thank you.”

  They followed her into the living room. On the floor by the fireplace was a small fibre optic Christmas tree, the tips of the branches fading from green to red and back to green again. Since she’d be holed up in the house over Christmas, Addie had dragged it out of the attic in an attempt to cheer herself up. Her eyes lingered on the three small presents in front of it.

  “I thought you were going to stay with friends in the Lake District?” Ed blurted.

  Addie looked up in surprise.

  “Your mother called me this morning,” Will explained.

  Addie felt like she’d touched a live wire, shock sped through her, and she slumped on a chair. “My mother called you?”

  “She said she thought you’d like to see me now,” Will said.

  Addie glanced at Ed. He turned away but when she looked at Will, she felt Ed’s attention return to her.

  “I was—we were worried about you,” Will said.

  “I’m fine. The cuts are healing on my hands. Look, no bandages.” She waved them in the air. “My face is fine. My ribs are okay. I’m fine,” she rambled. “Fine.” Her voice trailed away.

  “Good, but that’s not what I meant.” Will sat on the couch.

  Ed slumped on a chair away from Will, his eyes down, his shoulders too. He picked at one of his nails. Will stared straight at her, hope written all over his face.

  “I spoke to Jack yesterday,” Will said. “He—well, he sends his apologies. He’s writing to you. He’s issued a company statement making his apology public. He said your job’s still there if you want it. He’d like to talk to you about a position more in keeping with your ability. Something in the marketing department.”

  Working for Tony, Addie thought in alarm. “No.”

  “Then come and work for me. Ed’s leaving.”

  Addie flashed another glance at Ed, whose eyes were now focused on the Christmas edition of the Radio Times, draped over the chair arm.

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  Will gave a frustrated sigh. “What do you want, Addie? What can we do to make this better?”

  “What is it that you want?” she fired back. “I told you both to go away. You’re making this harder. Why have you come here?”

  “Ed?” Will said.

  “I can’t,” Ed mumbled.

  “You’re supposed to go first, we agreed.”

  “Can’t,” Ed repeated.

  Will sighed and turned to Addie. “First of all, I want to tell you I’m sorry for everything that’s happened, except I’m not sorry you asked me to be your Noah. I fell in love with you. And it was because I didn’t want to hurt you and because I was a coward that I didn’t tell you what I should have. I never lied to you, but I didn’t tell you everything. If I’d just explained right from the start—but I was frightened of losing you.” He took a deep breath and gripped the edge of the couch.

  Addie couldn’t take her eyes off him. Will swallowed hard.

  “I want you to know that I think about you all the time. I can’t stop thinking about you. I love you, Addie. I love the way you chew your pencils. I love your beautiful Alsatian eyes. I love the way you can swear in a hundred languages.” He gave a shaky smile. “I love you teetering in those high heels. I love making love to you. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

  Will dropped down at her feet. Addie saw the look of horror on Ed’s face.

  “I’ve been selfish and stupid. I thought of myself when I should have been thinking of you. I know I don’t deserve another chance but I’m begging you to give me one. I want us to start again. That night you carried Vee back in the snow, I pushed you into Ed’s arms by not taking care of you. He shouldn’t have taken advantage of you, but that’s—”

  “He didn’t,” Addie said.

  “Didn’t what?” Will asked.

  “I didn’t take advantage of her,” Ed said.

  Will looked between the pair of them, gave a bewildered laugh and sat back on the couch. There was silence for a while before he spoke again, this time t
o Ed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you wanted to believe the worst in me.”

  “Because you thought I wouldn’t want Addie if I thought she’d slept with you,” Will snapped.

  Addie saw Ed’s fists clench as he came up out of the chair. “So why didn’t you drag me from the bed and throw me out of the room?”

  Will jumped to his feet.

  “Stop it,” she shouted. “Stop fighting.”

  Ed turned to her and his heart burst. She looked so confused and hurt and this was all their fault.

  “I’m sorry, Addie,” he said in a quiet voice.

  He was suffocating. God, what could he say? He didn’t want Will to love her because he loved her. He loved everything about her too, and he wanted to look after her for the rest of his life. He wanted her by his side when he went to bed and there when he woke up. He wanted her to laugh at his jokes and tease him when he was showing off. He wanted to watch her licking mustard off her fingers and he wanted her to lick it off his. More important, he didn’t want his old life. He wanted a new life with Addie.

  He could have said all that and more, but the need to do the right thing was a heavy weight on him. Ed hadn’t wanted to come today. Will had made him. Now he had to make sure he did the best job he could of hiding the truth.

  “I think—you’re very special, Addie.” That sounded terrible. Couldn’t he come up with something better than that? “And I need to apologize too. I’m sorry about what happened that night in the hotel. I was trying to help you and I did take advantage of the situation. Well, not complete advantage but—”

  Ed could feel Will’s eyes on him. He made himself keep looking at Addie because this was the last time he would see her. Sorry, Ed wanted to say, sorry for pushing you into his arms, sorry for telling you to fight for him when I wanted to fight for you myself. Sorry for not trying harder.

  He had to choke out the next words. “Will adores you, Addie. Please give him another chance.”