The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  ‘But you still had your father,’ Leah argued. ‘You had someone to belong to. You had each other. Right?’

  The look in her eyes disturbed him slightly and he looked away.

  ‘Well, yes, but …’

  ‘Don’t you see, I don’t know what it is to have that special kind of love,’ she told him quietly. ‘Real unconditional love, I’m talking about. Not the kind you only get if you’ve been good. Having someone who’s on your side even when you’re wrong.’ She glanced at him. ‘And I don’t mean sex either. That demands more back than it gives. There’s only one person who can ever give you that special kind of love, and I mean to find her, no matter what.’ She pushed him gently away and sat up very straight, her eyes dreamy. ‘I have this feeling about her. I’ve always had it. She’s different and special, and I have her blood in my veins.’

  ‘You want to know who you are,’ Terry said. ‘That’s what you’re really saying. You can do that without finding your mother, you know.’ She shook her head impatiently and he went on: ‘Look, Leah, all I’m saying is that you might be disappointed. Suppose she’s someone you wouldn’t want to know? Suppose she doesn’t want to know you? There are all kinds of pitfalls to what you’re planning to do, you know.’

  But Leah was shaking her head. ‘Ever since I was little I’ve known — just known, Tel, that there was something unusual in my background. I need to find out — to find her. I need to know.’

  He nodded resignedly. ‘All right then. I can see there’s no changing your mind, so if there’s anything I can do to help … Hey, don’t strangle me.’ He laughed as Leah threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.

  ‘Terry Grant, you’re beautiful,’ she announced. ‘You’re the nearest thing I’ve ever had to a real live brother.’

  ‘You’re beautiful too.’ He held her away from him, smiling down at her wistfully. ‘And that’s the biggest, back-handed-est compliment I’ve ever had.’

  It was half-past nine when Terry dropped Leah off at the corner of Acacia Grove. It was a warm June evening and the scent of dewdrenched honeysuckle and newly mown lawns filled the air evocatively. He watched for a moment from the bright green 2CV as she swung down the tree-lined road in her jeans and tee-shirt, her denim jacket slung over one shoulder and her long dark hair swinging loose. On the outside she looked so confident, so cool and self-assured; the side of herself that she presented to the world. Terry believed that only he was privileged to know the real Leah; lost and bewildered, alone and yearning for that special love she’d spoken of. He thought about the remark she had made about sex: It demands more back than it gives. It was an oddly cynical remark for someone so young. As he slipped the car into gear and headed back towards the main road he allowed himself to dwell briefly on what it would be like if their relationship grew to be more than platonic. He sighed. Little chance of that. Leah saw him more as a older brother and friend. Still — maybe one day. In the meantime he was touched by her trust; grateful for it too. It was something not too many rising newspaper reporters could boast of. Leah and he were two of a kind and he promised himself that he would never betray her trust.

  *

  Leah climbed the stairs to her room as quietly as she could. She could hear the muted buzz of voices coming from the lounge, and through the half-open door of the dining room could see the debris of the meal on the table, awaiting the arrival of Mrs Lamb tomorrow morning. Hilary would probably stack the dishwasher herself and switch it on before she went to bed, if she wasn’t too tired. Mrs Lamb would do the rest.

  Leah closed the door of her room with a sigh and threw herself down on the bed. The pink frills she had inherited from Fiona had long since gone. The room was now starkly plain: white walls with one or two pop posters; a plain blue duvet cover and blue velvet curtains. There had been various styles of decoration during the twelve years she had occupied the room. With a mischievous grin she recalled her punk phase. The time when she had decorated the room herself whilst Jack and Hilary were celebrating their wedding anniversary with a weekend in Paris. They had returned to find she had painted the walls in matt black paint and hung up old posters of the Sex Pistols. Hilary had almost had hysterics when she saw it and Jack had been white-faced and tight-lipped with suppressed fury. He had given her ten minutes to dispose of the posters and called in a man to redecorate the walls in aggressively pink-sprigged Laura Ashley paper. Leah would rather he had remonstrated or shouted at her — hit her even. Anything but that tightly reined control of his — and the pink wallpaper.

  But she had given up trying to pay them back for not loving her for herself. Her plans were made and all her energy was channelled into carrying them through. If only they didn’t take so long.

  She got up from the bed and undressed, peeling off her jeans and pulling the tee-shirt over her head. Then, taking her towelling robe from the hook behind the door, she padded across the landing in her bra and pants. Her hand was just reaching out for the bathroom door when it opened suddenly and Tom Clayton came out. He looked distinguished and well groomed in an expensive-looking dark grey suit. His eyes widened with shocked surprise as they came face to face.

  ‘Leah.’ His eyes devoured the firm young body and bare, tanned legs, then shifted his gaze guiltily to look past her towards the stairhead.

  She slipped her arms into the robe and wrapped it round herself. ‘Whoops! I thought everyone was downstairs in the lounge,’ she said.

  ‘I hope you’re liking your job, Leah,’ he said pointedly.

  ‘The job’s fine, thank you, Tom.’ She avoided his eyes. She’d been working at Clayton’s now for over a month and so far she’d managed to avoid Tom and the unspoken bargain that hung between them.

  ‘I’m sure you know how much I want to see you again.’

  ‘Do you?’ She edged towards the bathroom door but his hand came out and grasped her wrist. It felt cold and clammy on her warm skin.

  ‘You know I do. I quite thought I’d see you here this evening. I hope you’re not avoiding me.’

  ‘Of course I’m not. I’m sure you didn’t really want me sitting opposite you at dinner tonight. Not with your wife watching.’

  ‘So you went out.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘With a boyfriend?’

  ‘With a friend.’

  He regarded her with smouldering eyes for a long moment. ‘Let’s fix a time now,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Which day do you go to college?’

  ‘Wednesdays actually.’ Leah found the days she spent at college unutterably boring. Any diversion would be welcome. ‘But I couldn’t possibly play truant, could I?’ she said provocatively.

  His grip on her wrist tightened. ‘Don’t play around with me, Leah. A promise is a promise. I kept my side of it.’

  She looked up at him swiftly, slightly taken aback by his suddenly assertive tone. ‘All right then. Next Wednesday.’ She tried to move past him but he held her wrist tightly.

  ‘Wait. Look, go to college as usual and register first, then slip out and I’ll pick you up outside the rear entrance in Gooch Street.’

  ‘Gooch Street?’ She giggled. ‘All very cloak and dagger, isn’t it? Just like something out of one of those old James Bond movies.’

  He looked at her, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. ‘You will be there, won’t you?’

  She looked up at him. It was exciting, this feeling of power. If she refused there was nothing much he could do about it, but he had given her a job — and he might be useful to her again if she played her cards right. Besides, he was quite attractive. With a quick glance towards the stairhead, she stood on tiptoe. Taking his chin in her hand she kissed him full on the mouth, her lips warm and moist and slightly parted. ‘I’ll be there, Tom,’ she whispered huskily, then she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door firmly, turning the key with an audible click.

  *

  When Tom returned to the lounge downstairs the Thompsons were just taking their leave. Hilary was thank
ing them effusively for coming.

  ‘I hope we’ll be seeing much more of you now that you’ve moved in next-door,’ she said as she ushered them out. ‘And do try to drop in on Sunday, won’t you? We’re having a barbecue lunch — from twelve till three.’

  Bill and Janet Thompson smiled and nodded, thanking Hilary for the delicious dinner and backing out of the room as though they were in the Royal Presence. When Hilary had seen them out she returned to the room with a sigh of relief.

  ‘Well, thank goodness they had to leave early,’ she said, subsiding elegantly into her chair. ‘That man is the biggest bore I’ve ever encountered, and as for her …’ She raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘That awful local accent — and the dress. I don’t know if she’d run it up herself but it looked more like a set of floral loose covers.’

  The others laughed politely but Angela Clayton, who was herself wearing a floral two-piece, flushed unbecomingly at the snide remark. She decided to get her own back via her husband.

  ‘You’ve been an awfully long time, Tom. Aren’t you feeling well?’

  He frowned, glancing round at the others. ‘Of course I’m well.’

  She shrugged her angular shoulders. ‘You look rather flushed. I wondered if the paté … ’ She looked at Hilary pointedly. ‘I never buy the stuff since the listeria scare. One can’t be too careful. Tom has such a delicate stomach.’

  It was Hilary’s turn to flush. ‘As it happens it was home made, Angela,’ she said between clenched teeth. She looked at Tom. ‘You are all right, aren’t you, Tom darling? I’d never forgive myself if I’d given you anything that upset you.’ Her tone was placatory but the look in her eyes challenged.

  ‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you, Hilary,’ he said firmly. ‘You’ll have to excuse Angela. She thinks all women serve up ready cooked supermarket food like she does.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I think it’s time we were leaving too.’ He stood up and held out his hand to Angela. ‘Shall we go, dear? You know you have to be up early to muck out.’

  As the three couples said their goodnights, going through the dutiful ritual of kissing the other’s spouses, Tom wondered if it was his imagination that Hilary’s lips lingered on his rather longer than the customary friendly embrace required.

  *

  The following Wednesday morning Leah was filled with nervous excitement as she travelled to college. Life was so dull. Meeting Tom would make a welcome little diversion as well as furthering the plan that was simmering away inside her head. He’d be sure to take her somewhere nice for lunch and afterwards … She didn’t let her mind dwell too long on afterwards. She’d play that by ear.

  Waiting in Gooch Street at the back of the college she felt like a mysterious woman spy and was reminded of all the fantasy games she used to play as a child. It was a mean little street, due for demolition. Weeds poked their tenacious heads through cracks in the pavement and rotting gates hung lopsidedly on rusty hinges. Most of the terraced houses were boarded up but some still housed the elderly occupants who had lived most of their lives there. Still clinging to their feeble government-subsidised independence, they were determined to retain their dignity until the time came for them to be sacrificed to the developers. Here and there a patch of dusty grass and a few dispirited geraniums struggled for survival among the discarded fish and chip papers and empty drink cans. On any other day it would have depressed Leah, but today it seemed to have just the right atmosphere for an illicit assignation.

  When Tom’s Jaguar turned in at the far end of the street it looked incongruously shiny and opulent. He stopped and leaned quickly across to open the door for her, darting a sideways glance before reversing into an empty space and heading for the main road again.

  Leah looked at him, one eyebrow raised enquiringly. ‘Would you like me to lie on the floor till we’re clear of the town,’ she asked with a sarcasm which he failed to pick up.

  ‘No, it’s all right. I don’t know anyone on this side of town.’

  She’d been right about the lunch. Tom clearly had it all planned. After driving south for about an hour on the A1 he drove on to the forecourt of a motel and country club. There were three restaurants and he ushered her into the smartest where a waiter showed them to a secluded corner banquette and handed them an oversized menu each. His discreet eyebrows rose a fraction when Leah ordered smoked salmon followed by lobster thermidor, but the man seemed not to mind his young companion’s extravagance, even though he ordered only an omelette and salad for himself. When the waiter had gone Leah looked at Tom.

  ‘What’s up? Aren’t you hungry?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve got a civic dinner to attend tonight. I don’t normally eat lunch anyway.’

  ‘Neither do I, but this is an occasion, isn’t it?’ She looked at him questioningly.

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Aren’t we celebrating?’

  ‘Celebrating what?’

  She poured herself a glass of water and sipped it, looking at him over the rim. ‘You tell me. I take it we’re spending the afternoon together.’

  Tom cleared his throat and lowered his head. ‘Keep your voice down.’

  She looked around. ‘But there’s only one other couple in the place and they’re too far away to hear. Well — are we?’

  ‘You know damned well we are.’

  She leaned towards him across the table. ‘Why are you so jumpy, Tom? Are you nervous?’

  ‘Of course I’m not nervous.’

  ‘If you’re regretting it, it’s all right. You can just take me back after lunch and I’ll …’

  ‘Leah! Please, will you stop it?’

  ‘Stop what?’ She stared at his red face with huge innocent brown eyes.

  ‘Just let’s talk normally.’ He looked up with obvious relief as the waiter appeared with their food. ‘Ah — here comes lunch.’

  *

  Leah lay on her side, her back towards Tom who was lying on his back and snoring loudly. She didn’t know quite what she’d expected but it certainly wasn’t the fevered groping that had begun the moment the chalet door had closed behind them. She hadn’t expected it to be romantic exactly, but neither had she visualised the inept and painful coupling that had occurred almost before they’d had time to undress. Tom couldn’t wait — hadn’t waited. The whole thing had been over almost before it had started. Tom had achieved what he’d come here for, but for her the feeling of power had been short-lived. She had expected to get something out of it herself. She’d been right about sex; it did demand back more than it gave. And it was certainly overrated.

  She shifted her position and Tom stirred and opened his eyes. He lay blinking for a moment as though momentarily wondering where he was. Then his eyes focused on her.

  ‘Oh, I must have dropped off for a moment.’ He slipped an arm around her and drew her close. ‘Not exactly surprising, eh?’ he said archly.

  Leah said nothing. If that had exhausted him then he must be older than she’d thought.

  He raised himself on one elbow to look down at her. ‘Are you all right, little one?’

  She winced at the coy endearment. ‘Of course.’ She rolled away from him sulkily and sat up with her back towards him.

  ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you,’ he said, stroking her back. ‘You know, you really should have warned me it was the first time for you.’

  She shot him a black look over her shoulder. ‘What did you take me for?’

  ‘Oh, God, Leah, I didn’t mean that. It’s just that you young women nowadays … I mean — you’re all so liberated.’

  ‘So you thought I jumped into bed with just anyone, did you? Just like some grubby little back street hooker?’ When he didn’t answer she added: ‘I wonder what my parents would think of your opinion of their daughter?’

  He sat up and leaned forward to peer into her face, anxiety creasing his brow. ‘Leah, look, come on, sweetie, don’t be like that. Lie down again and relax. Be nice to me. Tell me what’s really the matter.
I want to please you too, you know. Was it too quick — is that it?’ He began to fondle her. ‘That’s a compliment, you know. You excited me so much I couldn’t wait for you. Better next time, eh?’

  He pushed her back against the pillow and to her horror she realised that he was becoming aroused again. Gritting her teeth, she made herself submit to the clumsy gropings once again; pretending to enjoy the exploring fingers, the damp kisses and heavy breathing of his mounting excitement. This time it did last longer, but Leah found the laboured heaving no less revolting than before. At last he collapsed groaning on top of her, a dead weight, breathing hotly into her ear, his face twisted into a contortion that seemed to suggest agony rather than pleasure.

  She closed her eyes tightly against the sight and swallowed hard at the lump in her throat. Two tears squeezed out at the corners of her eyes to trickle slowly down her cheeks. Where was the mind-blowing ecstasy you read about in books? Was all that a con-trick too? Was everything in life a cheat? It wasn’t fair.

  *

  Tom stopped the car at a bus stop on the outskirts of town, reaching across to take her hand and search her eyes before she opened the car door.

  ‘You’re very quiet. Sure you’re all right?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘It’s been wonderful, darling. I can’t tell you how wonderful. I have to see you again, Leah. Is that what you want too?’

  Again? How much did he expect in return for giving her the beastly job? Biting her lip she thought of her plan. The thought of it shone like a beacon. The achievement of it made anything seem worthwhile.

  She made herself smile at him. ‘Of course I do.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘Christ, that’s marvellous! Next week? Same time and place?’

  ‘I don’t know. What about college? I can’t keep ducking out.’

  ‘Come off it, Leah. You hate college.’

  ‘But I want to be qualified. I want to earn more money.’

  ‘I’ll give you a rise. Double your present salary. How does that sound?’

  She brightened. ‘Well — all right then.’