The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  Later she talked to Ken about it and he agreed; if that was what she really wanted, then Sally should train in floristry. He would look into it. They told her of their decision the following evening after their meal.

  ‘Oh, that’s great.’ Sally jumped up to hug both parents. ‘And Mrs Jessop says she’ll find a place for me at Floral World in the High Street. I can start as soon as I leave school. She says I’ve got an eye for colour and design and she isn’t interested in “O” levels or boring old crud like that.’

  ‘Just hold your horses a minute.’ Ken put on his stern face. ‘If you’re going to do this, you’ll do it properly. Now — I’ve been along to the careers centre today and had a word. They’ve given me all the information.’ He reached for his briefcase and drew out a prospectus. ‘It’s a two-year course at the Technical College. You’ll take the Society of Florists’ Diploma, and a City and Guilds Certificate.’

  ‘Not more exams?’ Sally wailed. ‘It’d be like going back to school for two more years. I couldn’t bear it.’ The inevitable argument ensued amidst tearful protests from Sally. She’d cherished fond hopes of leaving school behind her, joining the world of adults and becoming financially independent. Now, as always, her parents were trying to ruin it all for her.

  It was quite the worst row they’d ever had, especially when Sally began to see that Ken and Mavis were not going to give in or even compromise this time. Although it hurt them to see her disappointment, they stuck to their guns as they’d promised each other they would. But her angry protests that they were only doing this to her because she wasn’t their true child and they didn’t want her to have any fun cut them both to the quick.

  ‘You only adopted me because you wanted to make me do the things you wanted,’ she sobbed. ‘You’ve never trusted me, not even to go to the youth club like other girls do. You can’t possibly love me — and I certainly don’t love you.’ Having delivered this crushing parting shot, she slammed the living-room door and ran upstairs sobbing noisily, to shut herself in her room.

  Jean, who infuriatingly happened to walk in at the climax of the row, saw it all happening with a smug smile and an ‘I told you so’ expression. She and Jim had brought the boys up with few restrictions, yet they were turning out all right. She’d always known that Ken and Mavis were storing up trouble for themselves, taking on someone else’s child and then wrapping the girl in cotton wool like that.

  ‘Hold them too tight and you’re asking for trouble,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘But then, say what you will,’ she added darkly, ‘blood will always out.’

  Stifling a scream of exasperation, Mavis gave her sister-in-law a red-faced, withering look. ‘Oh — go and boil your head, you smug bitch!’ she shouted as she slammed out of the room.

  Chapter 5

  The Dobsons had lived in the house in Acacia Grove ever since Jack’s printing business had become successful in the early seventies. Jack had gone to work for Joseph Gibson straight from school as a sixteen-year-old apprentice. He’d risen through the firm steadily, finally taking over as manager at the age of thirty-five. Then, when old Joseph Gibson had died and the business had come up for sale, Jack had taken his courage in both hands, taken out a loan and bought the firm out.

  Nenebridge was growing and Jack had had the foresight to see it coming right from Britain’s entry into the Common Market. Over the past twenty years Nenebridge had developed from a sleepy little East Anglian market town into a hive of small businesses, most of which, in spite of two recessions, had continued to prosper. As a result of EEC restrictions, what had once been a rural area of small holdings and fields of waving wheat had become a sprawl of industrial estates and trading parks. Hilary, the only daughter of a local farmer, had inherited several hundred acres of farmland on her father’s death and had sold out to the developers, making herself a considerable fortune. Factories producing everything from agricultural machinery to computers seemed to spring up, mushroom-like, almost overnight, and red-brick and cedarwood housing estates pocked the once idyllic countryside.

  Due to Jack’s foresight, Dobson’s was the only up-to-date printing firm within miles and all the new businesses used them. Jack and Hilary and others like them were made, whilst others — those who’d tried to cling to the old ways — went under.

  Twenty-one Acacia Grove had grown from a modest detached villa to what the estate agents described as a ‘desirable executive residence’. Over the years the Dobsons had added more rooms at the side and back. Jack’s thriving business and, more lately, his Council work had made it necessary to entertain. The garage had been doubled to accommodate Hilary’s BMW sports car, and above it Jack had installed a games room with a full-sized snooker table. An elegant pinnacled conservatory full of cane furniture and exotic plants was the latest addition. It opened straight on to a paved terrace with steps down onto a manicured lawn.

  Hilary was proud of her beautiful home. She cared for all of it herself, with the help of a daily woman and a man who came to do the rough work in the garden twice a week. She was a small woman, slender and still attractive, younger looking at fifty than most of her contemporaries, a fact which she exploited with secret satisfaction on every opportunity. She had never yearned for a career of her own. When she and Jack had first married they had planned to have a family of at least three children, but Fiona’s birth had been difficult and later attempts at increasing their family had come to nothing.

  Losing their beloved only child had been an overwhelming tragedy and finding Leah had seemed at first to be the perfect answer. When things hadn’t worked out quite as they’d hoped, Hilary had thrown herself wholeheartedly into her position as the wife of one of the town’s foremost businessmen and councillors. She campaigned tirelessly at election time and turned her morning room into the ward committee room to monitor the votes on the day. Her year as Mayoress had been a delight. She had carried out her duties with queenly charm and grace and she still basked in the admiration of the townspeople who acknowledged her respectfully when they met her in the street.

  Always exquisitely dressed herself, her dark hair expertly cut by a London hairdresser on her monthly shopping trips to Town, Hilary deplored the casual clothes and hairstyles worn by her adopted daughter. Whenever Leah attended formal functions with them, she insisted that the girl dressed in a manner befitting her position.

  As she prepared for a dinner party in her gleaming kitchen she thought about Leah. The girl had been a sad disappointment to them. When they had gone in search of a little girl to adopt they should have looked for a totally different child — maybe even one of the opposite sex. Jack had pointed this out at the time, and in restrospect Hilary saw that he was right. But the child had looked so uncannily like Fiona that she had found her totally irresistible. They had been acquainted with the child’s background, of course, and this had made Jack even more doubtful. But hearing of the tragic circumstances in which Leah had been born had only made Hilary all the surer that they and the child were destined for each other.

  Sadly, things had not worked out as they had hoped. Almost from the very beginning Leah had proved difficult and uncooperative. As a small child she threw tantrums, lied and stole things she need only have asked for. Even now she took everything for granted and was far from grateful for the many advantages they had given her. Not that Hilary wasn’t fond of Leah. One couldn’t raise a child, care for her for twelve years and nurse her through all the childhood ills without growing attached. It was just that she couldn’t help but know deep in her heart that Fiona would have turned out so very differently. She cared about Leah’s future, of course. She wanted what was best for her. The trouble was that Hilary’s idea of what was best and Leah’s didn’t match.

  The girl had always seemed to live in a world of her own, but lately she had become worryingly secretive. She went in and out as though the house was an hotel, never saying where she was going or with whom; it was something that Hilary was quite sure Fiona would ne
ver have done. But there, Leah was not Fiona and never would be, she told herself with a sigh.

  She was pleased with Leah’s looks at least. She had blossomed into a very attractive girl. The scowling, pinched look she had worn as a child had gone. Obviously she was more confident now that she had emerged from the ‘ugly duckling’ stage. And getting the position of trainee buyer at Clayton’s must surely make a difference. Tom would keep an eye on her, Hilary told herself with a smile. Maybe they would make something of her yet. She slipped the crown roast into the oven and turned her attention to the creme brûlée.

  *

  ‘So you didn’t fancy eating with your folks tonight?’ Terry slipped another compact disc into the machine and Simply Red filled the room with rich sound. He poured more wine into Leah’s glass and pushed aside the foil dishes which had contained their take-away meal.

  ‘God, no. Executive dinner party — bor-ing.’ She leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms out.

  ‘So I get to enjoy the pleasure of your company instead.’ Terry grinned good-naturedly. He glanced at his watch. ‘I can’t be any later than half-past nine, mind. I’ve got to drive over to cover a programme of wrestling in Peterborough. A local lad is having his first bout there.’

  ‘That’s okay. You can drop me off on the way. By then they should be busy having their coffee and I can slip upstairs unnoticed.’

  Terry laughed. ‘Anyone interesting there?’

  Leah pulled a face. ‘The Claytons: Tom, my boss and Angela the amazing talking horse. Their Worships the Mayor and Mayoress, and the Thompsons.’

  Terry raised an eyebrow. ‘Who’re the Thompsons?’

  ‘Bill and Janet Thompson. They live next-door — moved in about a month ago.’

  Light dawned on Terry’s face. ‘Oh, that Thompson. He’s my landlord.’ He threw out an arm to encompass the eighteen by twelve room he called home. ‘Rumour has it that he owns most of this street — left to him by his grandfather. Savemore Supermarkets have bought the site from him. He’s made a fortune out of it.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’m expecting my notice to quit any week now.’ Terry poured the last of the wine into his glass thoughtfully. ‘As a matter of fact there was a rumour about an overturned preservation order, and a public outcry about building a hypermarket this close to the town centre. I thought I was on to something big a couple of months back. A buzz about a backhander to the chairman of the planning committee when the plans went through unopposed in a hurry. But needless to say I couldn’t get enough concrete evidence on it to persuade my editor to print. Even sworn enemies close ranks on issues like that.’ He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘What are they like — the Thompsons?’

  ‘Jumped up and boring. They’ve only been invited because another couple dropped out at the last minute and Hilary needed to make up the numbers. You should have seen Mrs T’s face when I went round with the invitation. She practically wet herself with excitement. She didn’t even notice Hilary’s deliberate slight in not inviting her personally.’

  ‘Surely there was someone else she could have asked from her elevated circle of friends. Why the Thompsons?’ Terry asked.

  ‘Short notice,’ Leah said succinctly. ‘Besides, don’t you know that the next best thing to a VIP is someone who thinks you are one? It’s all to impress. That’s Hilary’s favourite pastime. She never loses an opportunity to queen it over people.’

  ‘You’re a bit hard on them, aren’t you?’

  ‘They deserve it. Actually I think Bill Thompson is hoping to put up for the council at the next election. The snag is that Janet — isn’t Mrs Thompson, if you see what I mean.’

  ‘You mean they aren’t married?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  Terry raised an eyebrow. ‘So?’

  Leah sighed. ‘This is Nenebridge, Tel. You should know by now that unless you follow the rules here, the big boys won’t let you play.’

  ‘So maybe he’ll make an honest woman of her in the nick of time.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Rumour has it that the rightful Mrs T is clinging like a leech.’ She grinned at him. ‘Makes sense in view of the packet he’s picked up for this crumbling heap, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Watch it. You’re talking of the slum I call home.’ Terry laughed but Leah looked suddenly depressed.

  ‘Oh, Tel, I’ve got to get out of this place soon. It’s driving me bananas. It’s like living in a time warp. The town is growing all the time, it’s turning into a modern industrial city but they won’t face up to it. They’re letting it happen — cashing in on it even — but they’re all still parading around in fancy dress just as their ancestors did a hundred years ago.’

  Terry drank the last of the wine and looked at her wryly. ‘It’s what’s known as tradition, love. It’s what gives the place its unique character.’

  ‘It looks more like hypocrisy to me, and they can have it as far as I’m concerned.’

  Terry’s flat was little more than a bedsit. It was on the top floor of one of a street of mouldering Victorian houses on the wrong side of the river. A curtained alcove contained primitive cooking arrangements, whilst the rest of the room formed his living area. There was a bed, two armchairs, two dining chairs and a gate-legged table. Under the dormer window stood Terry’s most prized possession, his compact disc player, and next to that stood a card table holding the battered typewriter on which he hammered out his copy. Compared to Leah’s luxurious room in Acacia Grove it was depressingly shabby. The room was so dark that it was necessary to have the light on all day; it was un-warmable in winter, hot and stuffy in summer. But in spite of all its drawbacks, Leah would cheerfully have swapped places with him any time. She knew that material things meant nothing to Terry. At least not for the present. He knew where he was going. He had talent and ambition and he’d get there in the end. One day he’d be able to afford luxuries, but it would be because he’d earned them — because of who he was and what he’d achieved. Leah admired and envied him.

  ‘You can’t imagine what it’s like,’ she said pensively. ‘All that pretentious socialising; all that dressing up and putting on an act. No one ever really knows anyone else. They all gossip behind each other’s backs and there’s no such thing as real friendship.’

  ‘Feeling as you do I can’t understand why you took that job at Clayton’s,’ Terry said. ‘Why didn’t you look for a job somewhere else? Look, tell you what, if you’re really fed up you can move in here with me.’ He grinned at her. ‘It’s only a single bed but it could be cosy — and kind of interesting.’

  Leah sighed, ignoring his offer, which she knew was more than half serious. ‘I’ve got to get myself trained for something first, haven’t I? That’s why I applied for the job at Clayton’s. It’s just that it all seems to take so long. I get fed up with waiting sometimes, but once I can get myself to London it’ll all start happening. I know it will.’

  Terry looked at her, recognising the slightly obsessive look in her eyes. He’d seen it many times before. ‘Why London?’ he asked. ‘There are plenty of nice cities.’

  She lifted her shoulders. ‘It’s the hub, isn’t it? The centre of everything. Anything you’re looking for starts from there.’

  ‘I see.’ He nodded understandingly. ‘You’re still planning to find your real mother then?’

  ‘Of course.’ Her eyes focused on his face. ‘She’s got to be out there somewhere, and I’ve got this really strong feeling that she wants me to find her.’

  He reached out to touch her hand, his blue eyes concerned. ‘Look, Leah, she might not want you to find her. She might not even be out there. She could be dead or she may have gone abroad — married and had ten more kids. Anything. Anyway, why are you so obsessed with finding her? You’re you, nothing can change that.’

  She got up and walked restlessly to the window. ‘You don’t understand, Tel. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere. I never have. Jack and Hilary didn’t want me, they
wanted Fiona back. They tried to turn me into her and it didn’t work. They should have left me where I was.’

  He got up and came to stand behind her. ‘They’ve tried to give you every opportunity, Leah,’ he said gently. ‘You’ve got things other girls’d kill for.’

  ‘They’ve never given me love, Terry,’ she said quietly. ‘They’ve never made me feel wanted. Sometimes I think they hate me — just for not being like their precious Fiona.’

  ‘There’ll be plenty of people wanting to love you, Leah.’ He wanted to add: If you’ll only let them, but he knew better than to spoil things between them. Leah needed him as a friend and that was better than nothing — for the time being at any rate. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her towards him. ‘Look, sweetheart, maybe your own mum didn’t want you either. If she had …’

  She looked up at him, her eyes huge, dark and swimming with hurt. ‘Don’t say that. She did want me. She must have. If people don’t want babies they have them aborted, don’t they? No one has to have a baby they don’t want in this day and age. Something awful must have happened to her. She thinks about me, I know she does, I can feel it, and I’m going to find her if it’s the last thing I do.’

  He pulled her against him and held her tenderly. ‘Of course you are. I’m sorry, love. I don’t mean to pour cold water on your dreams. It’s just that I don’t want you to devote your whole life to something that may not be worth it.’ He pulled her down to sit beside him on the narrow bed. ‘Look — my mum walked out on my dad and me when I was nine. Nothing terrible happened to her, unless you count boredom. She had a good man, a kid who needed her and a decent home — even though it was a council house. Okay, I used to cry for her sometimes as a kid, but I grew out of it and I’ve never wanted her back. In my book a woman like that isn’t worth losing any sleep over.’