The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  ‘Well, neither of us is going to find out unless you tell me, are we?’

  She swallowed another mouthful of coffee and took a deep breath. ‘I seduced Tom Clayton.’

  Terry spluttered over his coffee. ‘Councillor Tom Clayton?’ he asked, wide-eyed. She nodded. ‘Of Clayton’s department store?’

  ‘The same.’

  ‘But he must be old enough to be your father. Why did you do it?’

  She shrugged. ‘I could see he fancied me and I wanted a job in his shop. I knew there were no vacancies …’

  ‘And you thought he might create one for you if you were nice to him,’ Terry finished for her.

  ‘That’s about it.’

  He studied her for a moment, then asked: ‘So what went wrong?’

  She stirred restlessly in her chair. ‘Oh, lots of things. He became too demanding for starters. I was supposed to go to college on day release but I ended up with him instead on those days. It was impossible to get any proper training, and anyway I hated the job. Anyway, to cut a long story short, today I tried to finish it. We had a row and I suppose his precious ego took a battering.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘He went to Jack.’

  Terry stared at her incredulously. ‘He went to your father?’

  ‘My adoptive father,’ she corrected. ‘My ex-adoptive father. Yes. Apparently he came over all pious and contrite — told a whole pack of lies and made me look like a blackmailing little tart.’ Her face suddenly crumpled and she began to sniff back the threatened tears. ‘Which I suppose I am.’

  Terry watched her for a moment, torn between sympathy and exasperation. ‘Leah, you little fool. Whatever possessed you?’

  ‘I was bored,’ she groaned. ‘Bored and fed up.’ She sniffled into the handkerchief he passed her. ‘And I suppose, if I’m honest, it was nice — having someone wanting me.’ She grimaced. ‘But I soon found out that it wasn’t worth it.’

  Terry frowned. ‘I still don’t understand why he went to your father. Surely he didn’t have to go that far? And where did the blackmailing part come in?’

  She looked at him. ‘When I could see he was going to be hard to shake off, I told him that I’d discovered he was seeing someone else. I threatened him that I’d spill the beans if he didn’t let me go. That’s why he ratted on me.’

  ‘And was it true that he was seeing someone else?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘That’s the awful part …’ she hesitated. ‘Promise it’s only between the two of us?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘It was Hilary.’ Unconsciously, her fingers touched her cheek. ‘I overheard them talking in the kitchen — after the barbecue that Sunday.’

  Terry gave a long, low whistle. ‘Phew. You weren’t kidding when you said you’d been stupid. You’ve landed yourself right in it this time, haven’t you?’ Leah straightened her shoulders defiantly and took a deep breath.

  ‘I don’t care. In fact, I’m glad. I’m going to find my real mother now — whatever Jack says. I’ve saved some money. I’ll be all right for a while, even if I don’t get a job right away.’

  Terry took the empty mug out of her hands and stood looking down at her thoughtfully. ‘Look, I don’t like the idea of your going off to London all alone, Leah. You haven’t thought it through properly, and you’ll find it a lot harder to get work than you seem to think.’

  For the first time she looked doubtful. ‘Well, what shall I do then?’ Her face brightened. ‘I suppose I couldn’t go with you, could I? Just to give me time to think what to do next.’

  Terry bit his lip. He’d walked right into that one. ‘I don’t know, Leah. You see, it’s more of a working holiday really,’ he said. ‘I’m going to Cleybourn-on-Sea. It’s a little fishing village in Norfolk, on the Wash. A mate of mine has a holiday cottage down there and he’s renting it to me for a couple of weeks. The idea is to have some peace and quiet to write a series of features for the paper. You’d probably be bored out of your skull.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t. Oh, Tel, it sounds great. Can I come — please?’ Her eyes began to shine again and he felt his resolve melting. ‘I won’t be a nuisance,’ she urged. ‘I could even be a big help — cook your meals and do the housework. I could be a kind of housekeeper-cum-rotweiler — keep intruders away.’

  He began to laugh. ‘I wasn’t anticipating any intruders.’

  She looked at him with eyes as brown and melting as treacle toffee. ‘Does that mean yes? Can I come? Please?’

  *

  The drive to Cleybourn-on-Sea took a little under two hours. It should have taken much less, but the little 2CV was loaded to the gunnels with all Terry’s worldly possessions and he had to keep stopping to rearrange the load. He hadn’t allowed for Leah and her luggage as well.

  Before they left Nenebridge they called in on Kate Dobson so that Leah could say goodbye. The old woman was pleased to see them both, but when Leah explained the reason for her call, Kate’s face fell.

  ‘It’s not too late to go back, sugar,’ she said. ‘I’m sure your mum and dad will have forgotten the silly squabble by now.’

  Leah shook her head. ‘They’re not my mum and dad, Gran. Let’s face it, they never have been, not in any way. And it was more than just a silly squabble, I’m afraid. This time it’s serious. I shan’t be coming back again.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘No.’ Leah shook her head. ‘And don’t ask me what happened, Gran. I can’t tell you. It’s over. That’s all.’

  Kate’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I shall miss you. You’ll come back and see your old gran, won’t you? There’ll always be a place for you here, you know.’

  ‘I do know.’ Leah hugged her. ‘And of course I’ll come if I can.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Oh dear — I’m going to miss you too, Gran.’

  ‘We’ve had some good laughs, eh?’

  ‘Yes, some good laughs.’

  Kate held her at arms’ length. ‘So you’re going to try and find your real mother like you told me. Is that the plan?’

  Leah nodded. ‘I hope so.’ She glanced at Terry. ‘When I get myself organised. I’m going …’

  Kate stopped her with a shake of her head. ‘Don’t say any more, my old sugar. The less I know, the less I’m likely to let something slip. They’re bound to come asking.’

  ‘She’ll be all right, Mrs Dobson,’ Terry put in. ‘I won’t let her come to any harm.’

  ‘I know you won’t, lad.’ Kate pulled Leah close and kissed her. ‘Off you go then. Nothing an old geezer like me can do to stop you, is there? Not sure I would even if I could. Drop me a postcard now and then if you get time.’

  ‘I will, Gran, I promise. Take care of yourself, won’t you?’

  In the car she was silent and Terry left her to her own thoughts for a while. When they crossed the Norfolk border and the countryside began to rise and fall, he turned to look at her.

  ‘Shall we stop for a pub lunch somewhere?’

  She turned to him with a smile. ‘Yes, please. I’m starving.’

  *

  It was mid-afternoon when they reached Cleybourn-on-Sea. Turning off the main road they ran down into the winding main street of the little fishing village with its flint and shingle-built cottages. Hazel Cottage was at the bottom of the street, almost on the quayside. It stood in a little courtyard shared by three other cottages. Hazel Cottage had a white-painted front door sheltered by a small porch over which a purple clematis climbed. Under the front window stood a stone trough out of which a profusion of dahlias exploded, splashing their vivid pinks, yellows and reds against the grey-shingled wall.

  Leah exclaimed with delight. ‘Oh, Terry. It’s lovely.’

  ‘Yes, nice, isn’t it?’ He began to unload the car. The key is at number three.’ He pointed to the cottage facing. ‘Will you go and collect it while I shift some of this stuff, Leah?’

  Number three had a long low buildin
g at one side.

  Through the window Leah could see that it was in use as an artist’s studio. A table under the window was littered with tubes of paint and other artists’ materials. A large canvas, supported on an easel, was positioned under a skylight towards the back of the studio and she could see a pair of denim-clad legs protruding from beneath it. At her tap on the window the owner of the legs emerged from behind the easel and came to open the door. He was thirtyish, she estimated, and a paint-splattered tee-shirt completed his rather grubby ensemble. He had long dark hair which he wore tied back in a pigtail and his face was swarthily tanned — she guessed from long days spent painting in the open. His hazel eyes twinkled with interest as he looked out at her.

  ‘Hello there.’

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you.’

  ‘Don’t be. You’re a very pleasant diversion.’

  ‘Er — apparently the key to number four has been left here for us.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right. Hang on, it’s in the kitchen. I’ll get it for you.’ He slipped into the cottage and re-emerged almost immediately with the key. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he handed it to her. ‘I’m Colin Mays. I should have introduced myself before. Living alone down here all summer, one tends to forget the social niceties.’ He frowned. ‘I was told to expect a young guy — a journalist or something.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Leah laughed. ‘That’s Terry. He’s unloading the car. I’m Leah Dobson. I’m afraid I imposed myself on him unexpectedly at the last minute, but I’ve promised to work my passage.’

  ‘Well …’ He smiled.‘You can impose yourself on me any time.’ He caught sight of a laden Terry and gave him a friendly wave, which he was able to acknowledge only with a nod of his head. ‘Anything you need, just give me a yell. The door’s always open. If I’ve got it, you’re welcome to it. If not …’ He shrugged. ‘See you later then, Leah.’

  The inside of Hazel Cottage lived up to its romantic exterior. There was a spacious living room with an ingle-nook fireplace, a minute kitchen with an even smaller bathroom leading off it. And upstairs, two roomy bedrooms.

  ‘Do you want the one with the view of the Saltings?’ Terry asked.

  ‘No, you have it. It’s your holiday.’

  Terry grinned. ‘After the view of the railway line and the cemetery I had at the flat any view looks picturesque,’ he said. ‘No, I’m not planning to do much view-gazing. You have it.’

  After they’d unpacked Terry went to the village shop and bought supplies. They made a meal of eggs and chips, over which Leah asked for the first time what Terry’s future plans were.

  ‘I’ve had my name down for a flat in that new block down by the river,’ he told her. ‘The one they’ve converted from an old warehouse. They’re rather good — sheer luxury after my last abode; a proper bathroom and kitchen all to myself. Can you imagine? By the time I get back from here mine’ll be ready to move into.’

  Leah sighed wistfully. ‘You are lucky, Tel. You have a job you like and a home of your own. You’re achieving your ambition. You’re independent.’

  ‘And so can you be.’ He leaned towards her. ‘Try to make use of this time by sorting yourself out — making some sensible decisions about the future, Leah,’ he urged. ‘Don’t get bogged down in obsession. You have your own life to live. Make up your mind what you want from it and where you’re going.’

  ‘I suppose by obsession you mean looking for my mother?’ she said stiffly. ‘It’s all right for you. You know who you are. Can’t you see, Terry? I have to find that out before I know where I’m going. I feel I can’t begin to exist till I know.’ She pushed her hair behind her ears and looked at him dolefully. ‘The trouble is knowing where and how to start.’

  He sighed and looked at her with a mixture of exasperation and pity. ‘Oh, Leah. All right then … I can see you’re not going to give up. If it’s really what you want …’

  Her eyes lit up. ‘You mean you’ll help me?’

  He raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘I must be out of my tiny mind, but, yes, okay, I’ll do what I can.’

  Her shining eyes clouded. ‘Oh — er — Terry, there’s something I haven’t told you.’

  He shook his head impatiently. ‘Look, Leah — if I’m going to help you, you have to be completely honest with me. It’s essential. What is it this time?’

  ‘Last night, when we were having that awful row, Jack said something.’ She paused to look up at him uncertainly.

  ‘Right, go on.’

  ‘He said — that my mother had.been in prison.’ She reached for her handbag and rummaged in it. ‘I didn’t believe him at first. I thought he was just being spiteful. But he gave me my proper birth certificate. The one with all the details on it. And look.’ She spread the certificate on the table between them. ‘See — it gives my place of birth as this remand home place.’ She looked up at him. ‘It means I have to find her even more now, Tel. It must all have been some terrible mistake. I know it must.’

  Terry studied the birth certificate for some minutes, his mind heavy with apprehension. ‘Look, Leah,’ he said at last. ‘Are you really sure you want to go through with this?’

  ‘I have to, Tel — have to.’ Her eyes were huge and full of pathos.

  God help me. I must be mad, he said inwardly. Aloud, he heard himself saying: ‘Okay then. I’ll do what I can to get you off the ground with it.’

  Her eyes lit up. ‘Oh, Terry. When can we start?’

  ‘Hang on a minute.’ He held up his hands. ‘I have to get these features done first. It’s what I’m supposed to be here for. It’s my job, right?’

  She nodded. ‘Right.’

  ‘So will you promise to leave me alone to get on with them?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course I will. I told you, I’ll do all the chores and cook your meals so that you needn’t do anything but concentrate on your work.’

  ‘Right. After that I have another couple of weeks’ leave. I was going to use the time to move into the new flat and get settled, but I do have to go to London anyway for …’ He paused to look at her. Her eyes were shining with anticipation again and he had a sudden pang of serious doubt. Was he really doing her a favour? She seemed so confident that it would all end well, even though she knew her mother had given birth to her in prison. The woman could be anything from a murderess to a petty thief. He wouldn’t want to be responsible for bringing more trauma into her life. Suppose the woman was someone undesirable and, once found, could not be shaken off?

  ‘Look, kid,’ he said, taking her hands. ‘You’re sure — really sure — this is what you want, aren’t you? Because once we unlock the box it could be hard to get the lid back on, you know.’

  ‘I don’t care. I have to find her. Look, I’ve told you, Tel. I can’t start living till I do. If you don’t want to help me it doesn’t matter. I’ll …’

  ‘Okay, okay then. On your own head be it.’ He gave her a wry grin. ‘After this fortnight my expertise as bloodhound extraordinaire is all yours.’

  *

  The first days at Cleybourn were halcyon days for Leah. Whilst Terry was busy she explored, walking on the quay where friendly fishermen nodded and gave her the time of day. She walked the rough paths out to the point to breathe the salty air and watch the seabirds. Once she took a trip run by a local boatman out to Blakeney Nature Reserve to see the seals. There were almost as many artists as there were fishermen at Cleybourn and on her walks she often came across Colin Mays seated at his easel, but although she always smiled and nodded, she never stopped to talk to him, afraid of intruding on his work.

  The cottage didn’t take long to tidy in the mornings and she had finished the chores and the day’s shopping by ten. In the evenings she would happily prepare a meal in the sunny little kitchen while Terry worked on. Then they would eat together. Sometimes after supper they would stroll down to The Mermaid Inn by the quay for a drink and a chat with the locals, but more often than not Terry was yawning his head off by ten.


  ‘I never knew that writing was so tiring,’ Leah remarked one evening, halfway through the first week.

  ‘It’s the most tiring occupation I can think of,’ Terry replied through another gaping yawn. ‘Which is why I never bring anyone with me.’

  Leah grinned. ‘Point taken. I’m not complaining.’

  ‘I’m not complaining either.’ He grinned. ‘I never knew you were such a good cook.’

  She smiled, pleased with the compliment. ‘Granny Dobson taught me. I’ve never really had the chance to cook for anyone before though.’

  ‘Well, I must be the best fed guinea pig around.’ He smiled wryly at her. ‘Poor Leah. Are you horrendously bored?’

  ‘Not really. I do sometimes wish I could paint or something though. Then I’d have something positive to do.’

  ‘You wouldn’t fancy a job as a barmaid, would you?’ Terry said, half joking.

  Her eyes lit up. ‘Do you know of one?’

  ‘The landlord of The Mermaid was saying yesterday that he’s short-staffed. I daresay he wouldn’t turn down an offer of temporary help. The season will be over soon so he won’t want anyone permanently.’

  Leah called in at The Mermaid next morning. The pub wasn’t open so she knocked on the side door. It was opened by the landlord, a middle-aged man who surveyed her with a rather dour expression. He wore a grubby white apron tied round his rotund figure.

  ‘Yes?’ He looked her up and down suspiciously.

  ‘I’m sorry to intrude, Mr Johnson.’ She’d taken careful note of the name over the door at the front before knocking. ‘But I heard that you were looking for bar staff and I wondered …’

  ‘There’s no permanent job goin’ here, miss.’ He started to close the door, but Leah quickly put in: ‘It was temporary work I was looking for.’ The man hesitated, the door still open a crack. ‘I’m here with my friend, you see. He’s working all day and I’m at a loose end. If you could do with some temporary help, I’d be glad to oblige.’

  ‘Ah — well …’ He opened the door again. ‘In that case maybe you’d better come in.’

  The bar of The Mermaid, so quaint and cosy in the evenings, looked shabby in daylight and not all that clean. It was dim and stuffy and it smelled of beer and stale cigarette smoke. Dick Johnson was obviously in the process of giving the place a perfunctory lick and promise. A mop and a bucket half full of dirty water stood by the bar. Another close to it contained the contents of the ashtrays, now stacked up on the bar ready for washing.