‘Here, Gran, drink this. Have you seen the doctor with that cough?’ she asked.
The old woman shook her head. ‘Blasted biscuit crumb — went down the wrong way.’
Leah shook her head, it sounded more than that. ‘You’re quite chesty, aren’t you?’
Kate waved a hand dismissively. ‘Had a bit of a cold last month,’ she said. ‘Can’t seem to clear it up. It’ll go in its own good time.’
But Leah wasn’t convinced. She’d been noticing things while they were talking. The layer of dust on the furniture, previously unknown in Kate’s house. And the bottle of cough mixture standing in the hearth, a sticky spoon adhering to the tiles beside it.
In the kitchen too there were signs of neglect; the sink was stacked with dirty dishes, and there were unwiped spills on the cooker. Kate herself looked under par too.
‘Does Dad come to see you?’ Leah asked.
‘Jack?’ Gran shrugged. ‘He comes when he can. The business and his council work keeps him busy.’
‘All the same …’
‘Don’t you worry about me,’ Gran said dismissively. ‘Just you take care of yourself.’ She looked into Leah’s eyes and squeezed her hand. ‘You are all right, my sugar, aren’t you? You do get enough to eat — take proper care of yourself?’
‘Of course I do. I’ve got a good job in a restaurant. I eat there mostly.’
‘And you won’t let the likes of Tom Clayton take advantage of you again, will you?’
‘No, Gran. I promise. I’ve learned my lesson about men.’
Kate smiled ruefully. ‘Women never learn their lesson over men. Oh, we always think we have. Then along comes another Jack-the-lad with his posh blue suit and Brylcreme on his hair and all the lessons are forgotten. Just you be careful, my lass.’
Leah laughed. ‘I will, Gran. Don’t you worry about me.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Tell you what — will you let me cook some lunch for us both?’
She’d expected an argument, but to her surprise Kate gave in graciously. After making her promise to stay where she was by the fire, Leah set to work on the kitchen, washing up the stack of dishes and scrubbing the floor till the place looked more like Granny Dobson’s kitchen again. When it was done she slipped out to the local shops and bought the ingredients for a warming hot-pot.
The relish with which Kate ate made Leah suspect that she hadn’t cooked herself a proper meal for some days.
‘That was real tasty, girl,’ Kate said appreciatively, polishing her plate with a crust of bread. ‘You’ve turned into a jolly fine little cook.’
Leah smiled. ‘Thanks to you, Gran. It was you who taught me.’
The time went all too quickly and before Leah knew it, it was four o’clock and the hooting of Bill’s car horn was heralding his arrival in the road outside the bungalow. Leah snatched up her coat and hugged Kate hard. She hated leaving the old lady alone. As she stood at the door, waving her off, she looked small and frail and Leah retraced her steps to give her another hug.
‘Take care of yourself, Gran,’ she said huskily. ‘And if you need anything you mustn’t be too proud to ask Dad.’
Kate waved away her concern with characteristic stoicism. ‘Get along with you, girl. I’ll not have that Hilary coming round here and lookin’ down her nose at my bits and pieces. I might not have much but it’s home to me and while I can polish my own door knob I’ll be my own mistress.’
Knowing it was no use arguing, Leah gave her one more quick kiss and ran down the path to the waiting car. As they drove through Nenebridge’s darkening streets the shops were closing and people were hurrying homewards. In the market place the traders were packing their unsold wares into vans and trucks. As Bill’s car crossed the bridge the coloured lights strung out along the river bank were mirrored in the water, turning it from brackish grey to sequinned silver. A sadness settled over Leah; a sadness she didn’t understand. She hadn’t been happy here, so why this aching nostalgia? It felt as though a part of her life was coming to an end; a door closing behind her, leaving her to face the cold, dark night alone.
Chapter 16
The waiting room at the ante-natal clinic was crowded, overheated and stuffy. Sally’s head ached. She had spent almost two hours sitting on the hard chair provided, listening to the tape of jolly Christmas music that played over and over and staring at the tired paperchains and shrivelling balloons that decorated the waiting room. She had exhausted all the tattered magazines on the table in the centre of the room.
Two bored and fractious toddlers were squabbling noisily over a toy tractor from a collapsing cardboard box in the corner while their mothers tried to placate them with sweets. Their shrill squeals grated on her nerves.
‘Takes ages, doesn’t it? How long’ve you been here?’ the girl sitting next to Sally asked.
‘Since two,’ she said, glancing at her watch. ‘I think it’s my turn next though.’ Her heart sank as she thought of the long bus ride she had to look forward to after her routine examination. The buses got so crowded in the late afternoon now, with the Christmas shoppers. At this rate she’d hit the rush hour and probably have to stand all the way. Not that anything wouldn’t be a change from sitting here in this stuffy, noisy room with all the other pregnant women. We must look like a set of Toby jugs, she told herself, unconsciously echoing one of her mother’s favourite sayings. Her mind lingered nostalgically over thoughts of a soft armchair, a blazing fire, and Mavis bringing her a hot cup of tea.
‘When’s yours due?’ the girl was asking her chattily.
‘Due? Oh, the baby, you mean. Not till the beginning of February.’
‘Only another few weeks then?’ The girl smiled. ‘I bet you can’t wait. Your first, is it?’
‘Yes.’ In an attempt to put the girl off, Sally buried her face in the magazine she had already read twice and tried to absorb herself in an article on varicose veins.
‘My Darren wants a boy,’ the girl went on, undeterred. ‘But me and Mum’d rather have a little girl. Mum’s already made me a pink pram set. It’s my first too — Mum’s first grandchild. Exciting, isn’t it?’
‘Very.’
‘Have you thought of any names?’
‘No.’
The girl’s eyes widened. ‘Haven’t you? I like Tiffany, but if it’s a boy — Darren wants Gary or Paul. Football mad, he is.’
‘I see.’
‘Haven’t you got any ideas? You must have some favourites.’
Sally put down the magazine. ‘I haven’t thought about names at all,’ she said with quiet deliberation. ‘You see, I’m having mine adopted.’
The girl’s mouth dropped open in surprise and her round blue eyes stared blankly. It occurred to Sally that she looked like a cod’s head on a fishmonger’s slab. It was all she could do not to tell her so.
‘Oh …’ the girl said inadequately.
‘And if you’re wondering why, it’s because I’ve got no husband, right? No mum knitting pink pram sets either,’ Sally went on brutally. ‘Having a baby isn’t at all exciting for me. In fact it’s a disaster, a very bad mistake that I’m having to pay dearly for.’
‘Oh, er …’ The girl smiled nervously and moved away slightly.
‘Oh, don’t worry. Mistakes aren’t catching,’ Sally said waspishly.
‘Miss Payne.’
A nurse holding a clipboard stood in the doorway looking round enquiringly. ‘Come this way, please.’
Sally got to her feet, wincing slightly as she straightened the crick in her back. Without a backward glance she followed the nurse through the door leading to the examination cubicles. An older woman who had accompanied her daughter bristled visibly and tutted.
‘Well, really. Young girls nowadays,’ she muttered to no one in particular. ‘No sense of responsibility at all. I blame the Government. Everything’s handed to them on a plate nowadays.’ She raised her voice in the hope that Sally would hear. ‘And whose pocket does it come out of, eh? I’ll tell you. The poor bloody tax pa
yer’s. Yours and mine.’
The obstetric registrar was tired. She’d been on duty since the previous night, having been called out to two emergency deliveries and a serious miscarriage on Casualty. She took Sally’s blood pressure and palpated her abdomen. Glancing down as she did so she noticed the girl’s puffy ankles and looked at her notes.
‘Are you still working, Miss Payne?’
Sally nodded, heaving herself into a sitting position with difficulty. ‘We’re busy at the moment with the Christmas rush.’ She rubbed at her fingers which were badly pricked and sore from making holly wreaths, ‘In fact I’ve been staying on to do some overtime.’
‘Mmm. On your feet for long hours. Any headaches or vomiting?’
Sally shook her head.
‘Your blood pressure is on the high side and there’s some protein in your urine sample this time. I think you’d be wise to stop work at this stage.’
‘I can’t,’ Sally said. ‘I need all the money I can get to pay my rent.’
‘You’ve already worked long enough to qualify for the allowance, you know.’
‘I know, but when my boss took me on it was on the understanding that I’d take as little time off as possible. I’ll need the job after the — afterwards.’
‘Your mind’s still set on adoption, then?’
‘There’s no other way,’ Sally said wearily. She got down from the examination couch and began to pull on her clothes.
‘Think about what I’ve said,’ the registrar said. ‘You must think of your health, you know — the child’s too. Even though the baby is going for adoption, you want it to be as healthy as possible.’
‘I take the vitamin tablets and I drink milk.’ Sally looked at her in alarm. ‘It’s all right, isn’t it — the baby?’
‘So far, yes. But I think you’d be wise to stop working now. If you really can’t then try not to overdo it. You say you want to get back to work as quickly as possible afterwards.’ The doctor smiled wearily. ‘See you next month. And have a happy Christmas,’ she added hopefully.
As Sally waited in the bus queue she thought about what the doctor had said. There was no chance she could stop work for at least another month. As for a ‘happy Christmas’, that was the least of her worries. In order to keep her mother from asking her to go home she had made up a story about being invited to a friend’s home for the holiday, making it sound as though it was the one thing in the world she longed to do. Mavis had obviously been hurt and offended, but at least she had stopped asking.
The bus was crowded but an elderly man got up and gave her his seat. She accepted gratefully. But by the time she had reached her stop and walked the half mile back to the dingy Victorian house in Marshall Grove she felt exhausted. What a way to spend my half day, she mused wryly as she climbed the three flights of stairs to her room.
When she reached the top floor she saw to her dismay that she had a visitor. Someone was standing on the landing outside her room; a tall woman in a raincoat. She recognised the social worker who had come to tell her about her sister, Leah.
‘Oh — it’s you.’ She leaned against the banister rail to get her breath. Another confrontation with long-nosed bureaucracy was all she needed.
‘I’m sorry to come here, Sally. I went to the shop where you work. They gave me your address.’
‘And I suppose you told them you were a social worker?’
‘Of course I didn’t. I’m not here officially anyway.’
Sally fumbled for her key and unlocked the door. ‘I see. Then if it’s a social call, I suppose you’d better come in,’ she said dryly. She lit the gas fire and crossed to the curtained-off corner which served as a kitchen to plug in the kettle. ‘You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve been to the ante-natal clinic and I’m dying for a cup of tea. Perhaps you’d like one too?’ She began to take off her outdoor things.
‘Thank you. I’d love one.’ Hannah sat down. ‘I’m here because Leah rang me,’ she said. ‘I’ve been away for a few days. Apparently she’s been trying to get hold of me.’ She glanced at Sally’s tired pale face, illuminated by the gas fire as she held her chilled hands out to its glow. ‘She told me what happened on the evening you called to see her. She’s sorry she upset you, and desperately anxious to make it up to you, Sally.’
‘Really?’
‘I’m glad you made the effort to go,’ Hannah ventured into the silence.
‘Much good it did me,’ Sally turned to look at her. ‘She’s just like all the others — preaching — telling me what I should do.’
‘I don’t think so. You didn’t really give her a chance, did you? After all, she had no idea that you were pregnant.’
Sally crossed to the steaming kettle and busied herself with making tea and getting out cups.
‘To Leah, adoption is a traumatic subject,’ Hannah went on. ‘She wasn’t as lucky as you in her adoptive parents.’
‘I suppose it depends on what you call luck,’ Sally said thoughtfully. ‘What she’d see as a happy childhood I just see as a term of imprisonment.’
‘Oh, surely it wasn’t as bad as that. I think you’re rather …’
‘Ungrateful?’ Sally spun round. ‘Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t feel guilty about it? I know my parents made sacrifices for me, that they did their best — or thought they did. But all I really was to them was a possession. Something to hang on to and dominate for as long as possible. I was their creature, their pet. Not their daughter. They never prepared me for life. Just for living with them and following their rules, their code. In a way it’s their fault that this has happened. Now all I want is to get it over with so that I can get on with my life. Make up for what I’ve lost.’
‘What have you lost, Sally?’
‘Freedom,’ she said quickly. ‘Freedom to think and decide — to be myself. Oh, I know children need guidance, and that’s fine. But I was never allowed even to know the dangers — the risks. It’s so wrong to bring kids up that way. It’s like — like sending a blind man out for a walk on a cliff.’
Hannah was silent for a moment as she sipped her tea. ‘Sally, on the day you visited Leah she’d just had rather a bad disappointment. For some time she’s been trying to trace her — your natural mother. That Sunday they were to have met. She’d been waiting at the station for hours, but Marie — that’s her name — wasn’t able to make it.’
‘Oh. She didn’t say.’ Sally fell silent, remembering the carefully laid table and the meal that Leah had invited her to share. ‘That explains a lot.’
‘It meant a great deal to her,’ Hannah said. ‘She must have been upset.’
‘Yes, of course. I wish she’d said something.’
‘So what will you do now, Sally?’ Hannah asked at last. ‘What are your plans for the future?’
For a moment Sally stared at her, then she shrugged. ‘To get a better job. Save up and find somewhere nice to live. I don’t want a lot. Just to be allowed to — to be myself.’
‘What about friends — family?’
‘Are we talking about my parents — or Leah?’
‘Both. No one can exist in total isolation, Sally. We all need each other to some degree.’
‘No man is an island, you mean?’ Sally laughed. ‘I’ve had enough of having my life planned for me, thanks.’
‘Mavis and Ken may have got things a bit wrong, most parents do. But they care very deeply about you. Don’t turn your back on them, Sally. They don’t deserve that.’
For a moment Sally’s lip trembled. ‘I’ll ring them,’ she said, turning away. ‘I’ll go and see them after the birth. I never meant to drop them completely, you know.’ She rounded on Hannah angrily, her eyes bright. ‘And I do love them, in spite of everything. And that’s all part of the trap. It’s the reason I’m keeping this from them. I’m still trying to please them as well as myself because I can’t get out of the habit. Look, as soon as it’s over I’ll go and see them, okay?’
‘And Leah?
’
Sally turned away with an impatient frown. ‘Oh — I’ll see. I’ll think about it.’
‘Good.’ Hannah stood up and began to button her coat. ‘I’ll go now and let you get some rest.’ At the door she turned. ‘Sally, what are you doing for Christmas?’
‘Probably sleeping for most of it,’ she said. ‘At the moment that’s all I want to do.’
‘Leah told me to tell you that you’re welcome to spend it with her at Notting Hill.’
‘Thanks.’
When Hannah had gone Sally sat on for a long time. Engulfed in the familiar lethargy that made her brain feel numb and her body leaden, she stared into the red bars of the gas fire, her hands around her cooling cup of tea. She was vaguely aware that she was hungry but couldn’t be bothered to get herself anything to eat. She was lonely too, though she refused to admit it to herself. ‘If only it could all be over,’ she said aloud. ‘When I get myself back again I can really start thinking about a future. Everything will be all right then.’
*
The atmosphere in the kitchen at Bella’s was electric.
Anna was slamming saucepans about, her sleeves rolled up and her black eyes flashing fire. Franco wore a morose, hangdog expression as he checked his wines for the evening and Joe had clearly been weeping emotional Latin tears.
‘What’s up?’ Leah whispered to him as she took off her coat.
‘Is Asunta,’ Joe whispered back. ‘Anna say she must go home to Italia.’ He hunched his shoulders, spreading his hands exasperatedly. ‘Nothing she do is right. My sister, she is evil bitch.’ He gulped hard and rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand. ‘I tell her — Asunta go, I go too.’
‘What did she say?’
Joe’s dark eyes swam. ‘She say: “Go to hell. Get stuffed,” she say.’ He sniffed hard. ‘I wish I never come to England.’
Leah patted his shoulder. ‘Come on, Joe. You don’t mean that. You’re Anna and Franco’s partner. It’s what you always wanted.’
‘Not no more.’ Joe was openly weeping now, fat tears slipping down his olive cheeks, dripping on to his white shirt. ‘I hate English winter. London is so cold and dirty. It make everyone bad — unkind. Not like Italy. In Italy the sun always shine and people are every day happy and smiling.’ He pulled out a handkerchief to mop his face. ‘Asunta go — I go too,’ he announced firmly.
The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family Page 28
