The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  When Marie had shown the man out David sat in silence for several minutes, his face like carved grey stone. ‘As far as I’m concerned that’s the end,’ he said at last. ‘I’m finished.’

  Ralph got up from the table and walked to the window. ‘Oh, come on, it’s not as bad as all that,’ he said lightly. ‘Within quite a short time we can start up again.’

  ‘What do you mean, we?’ David asked, his voice like gravel. ‘I’m too old to begin again, and even if I intended to carry on, any further business with you would be out of the question.’ He looked across the table at Marie. ‘What you do, my dear, is up to you of course.’

  ‘I shall be filing for divorce,’ she said quietly. ‘As soon as all this is over.’ She turned to look at Ralph. ‘I take it you’ll have no objection now?’

  He shrugged. ‘Do what the hell you like.’

  Later that night, when Marie returned from taking David a hot drink, she was surprised to find Ralph preparing for bed in their room.

  ‘There are plenty of rooms vacant downstairs, Ralph,’ she said. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d sleep in one of those from now on.’

  ‘Yes, I daresay you would.’ He continued undressing. ‘You may be filing for divorce, but as long as we’re married we’ll share a room.’

  ‘Then I’ll go myself.’ She picked up her things and made to walk past him but he caught at her wrist, swinging her round. ‘You’ll bloody well stay here. There’ll be enough for the staff to gossip about soon without giving them some more.’ He looked down at her, his lip curling. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I won’t touch you. The very sight of you makes me puke. When I think of the way you’ve been oiling round Dad — getting him to leave you everything in his Will.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘What a pity there’ll be nothing left.’ He pulled her towards him to glower intimidatingly down into her face. ‘I wonder just how much you’ve had to do for him to get what you want?’

  ‘You’re disgusting.’ She tried to turn away but he held on to her wrist with a grip like steel.

  ‘I can’t say I’ve ever found you that exciting myself,’ he went on. ‘But then, he is an old man. At his age I suppose you have to be grateful for what’s on offer.’

  Her free hand came up to slap him in the face. All her fury was behind the blow. It was almost a reflex action, surprising herself as much as him. Her fingers throbbed with the impact and for a second he just stood there looking at her, rocking slightly on his heels, his eyes blank with shock. Then, as his hand came up slowly to finger his cheek, he said: ‘You’ll wish you hadn’t done that, Marie. You’re going to have to pay for that little bit of self-indulgence.’

  ‘Pay?’ She laughed hysterically. ‘I’ve already paid everything I have, Ralph. You’ve had it all — money, position, dignity, and finally self-respect. There’s nothing more you can take.’ She turned, and picking up her night things from the floor where she’d dropped them, she walked to the door. ‘I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room. I’d rather sleep on a stone floor than share a room with you again.’

  *

  It was six a.m. when the newspapers arrived. The local newsagent delivered a selection to ‘The Ocean’. They were taken in by the night porter whose job it was to lay them out on the reception desk before going off duty. Three were always laid aside for the Evanses, to be sent up later along with the mail. They were the Daily Mail, the Independent and the Recorder, a paper Marie liked because of its human interest stories.

  Chapter 21

  Ken Payne still hadn’t returned to work after the bout of ’flu he’d had just after Christmas. He looked pale and drawn and the cough that was the result of an additional chest infection still bothered him. Mavis’s nerves were stretched to breaking point. What with sleepless nights and worrying over Sally and Ken, she was almost at the end of her tether. It was her private opinion that Ken’s illness had more to do with Sally’s rejection of them than with any virus. His refusal to discuss the matter, or to speculate on the reason for Sally’s prolonged silence, frustrated and angered her beyond words. He behaved almost as though he had written the girl off.

  Looking across the breakfast table at him this morning she saw that as usual he was absorbed in his newspaper. There was a time when they had chatted companionably to each other over breakfast, but since Sally had left home Ken had wakened each morning in a morose, taciturn mood and usually remained so until well into the morning. Mavis felt hurt and excluded. The most she could get out of him at breakfast these days was a grunt and she had grown accustomed to anticipating his wishes, accepting his silence with resignation.

  Pouring him a second cup of tea, she turned her attention to her own paper, the Recorder. Ken had always disapproved of it, labelling it a ‘rag’, but Mavis liked the fashion and the gossip pages. There was more to interest women in the Recorder, she argued.

  On the front page of today’s edition a new series was advertised: ‘Yesterday’s People’. She saw that it was about women who had made the headlines in the past and what they had done with their lives since. That should be interesting. Mavis refilled her own cup and turned eagerly to the page indicated.

  She found the page and then stared in disbelief as her own daughter’s face looked up at her from the page. She glanced up at the headline, Tragic Marie is Reunited with her Lost Twins, and the blood froze in her veins. As she read, the words seemed to dance before her eyes and her heart began to beat sickeningly fast in her chest. The full page-article resurrected the twenty-year-old story of a young teenage girl, brutally betrayed by her heartless lover. Marie O’Connor’s trial and conviction for terrorism, and how she had been forced to give up the twin girls, born in a remand home before her trial, was recounted from newspaper articles printed at the time and transcripts from the trial. Transfixed, Mavis read on:

  Marie always protested that she was the innocent victim of a cruel plan to use her as a human bomb, but in spite of her protestations a jury convicted her of conspiracy to cause an explosion. When she came out of prison she built herself a successful new life, but she never forgot the two daughters she was obliged to give up. A few days ago her dream of meeting them again came true when one of them gave birth to a child herself in a London hospital on Christmas Day. As history threatened to repeat itself the girl’s sister, who had recently succeeded in her long search for her natural mother and sister, contacted Marie, begging her to visit unwed Sally and persuade her not to give up her baby son.

  As Mavis laid down the paper her hands trembled uncontrollably. So that was it! The reason for Sally’s refusal to come home or even to see them was crystal clear now.

  ‘Ken.’ Her voice sounded high and unfamiliar as though it belonged to someone else. ‘Ken, look.’

  ‘Huh?’ Glasses on the end of his nose, he lowered his own paper a fraction to peer in irritation at her. ‘What is it?’

  Mavis cleared her throat. ‘There’s something in here I think you should see.’

  He rattled his newspaper irritably, turning the page. ‘That rubbish? You won’t catch me reading the gutter press.’

  ‘Ken, for heaven’s sake, I’m serious. Look what it says — here. It’s about our Sally.’ She pushed the paper at him across the table.

  ‘What are you talking about? It can’t be.’ With a look of concern he took the paper from her. He read the article quickly, his lips moving as he read. When he had finished he pulled off his reading glasses and looked up at her, his face flushed.

  ‘So that’s why she wouldn’t come home or let us go and see her. It wasn’t because she didn’t want us. Oh dear God! Our girl — bearing a burden like that all on her own. She did it for us, to shield us, poor child.’

  Mavis stared at him. ‘Do you know what you’re saying? She must have been pregnant before she left home. She could have married Jason too. He asked her, and now we know why, don’t we?’ Her eyes fell on the newspaper again. ‘And now there it all is in the paper for everyone to see.’ She gave a short, hiccuping sob and
clasped her hand to her mouth. ‘I’ll never hold up my head again.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, pull yourself together, Mavis,’ Ken snapped irritably, frowning at her. ‘This is no time for reproaches. You should be thankful that the girl’s all right.’ He shook his head, frowning. ‘Maybe we should take some of the blame for this. Maybe we should ask ourselves where we went wrong.’

  ‘Where we went wrong?’ Mavis stared at him.

  ‘We must go to her at once and tell her we forgive her,’ Ken went on. ‘We must make her see that we don’t blame her — that everything will be all right and she must come home. Above all, we can’t let her part with that little baby.’ He got up from the table, dropping the forgotten newspaper on the floor. ‘Where’s that Miss Brown’s telephone number? I’ll ring her. She’ll be able to tell us which hospital Sally’s in.’

  Mavis was stunned into silence by Ken’s liberal attitude. What about the morals they’d tried to instill into Sally? Did it count for nothing that she’d clearly ignored them? Was that what he called their ‘going wrong’?

  ‘Hannah Brown promised to see Sally and find out if anything was wrong,’ she said. ‘She’s let us down badly in all this, if you ask me.’

  ‘I daresay Sally wouldn’t let her tell us,’ Ken said.

  ‘She should have let us know anyway. It was her duty to …’

  But Ken wasn’t listening. He was muttering to himself as he leafed through the address book they kept beside the telephone. ‘B — Br — Ah, here it is,’ he said triumphantly. ‘I’ll ring her, shall I?’

  Mavis nodded grudgingly. The initial shock was wearing off a little now. Ken was right in a way of course. It was a relief that Sally was safe, and that her reason for not coming home had been to save them from shame. A sudden thought made her heart flip with a dizzying stab of excitement. I’m a grandmother. For the first time she wondered what the baby was like. Did he look like Sally? She’d been such a pretty, contented baby. It would be so lovely to have a child in the house again. Her mouth began to soften into a smile ‘Oh — all right,’ she said, trying to sound casual. ‘Talk to her if you like.’ But I’ll have something to say to Hannah Brown myself later, she added under her breath. She’s got a lot of explaining to do.

  *

  Leah walked up and down outside Bella’s Ristorante. She’d taken her courage in both hands that morning and telephoned the estate agent. She was meeting someone here at eleven to view the place, but in her eagerness she’d arrived ten minutes early. Not that she needed to be shown the place. She was familiar with every nook and cranny of Bella’s. It was just that she wanted to see how it would feel to have it belong to her — a bit like trying on a garment for size. It would be fun to look around with fresh eyes and visualise the changes she would make. She had lain awake till the small hours, ideas buzzing through her brain. She’d call it Country Fare or something like that, and specialise in traditional regional dishes using fresh fruit and vegetables — organic maybe if she could find a supply. Perhaps there was a course she could go on to increase her repertoire of dishes? She could turn Alfredo’s bar into a carvery, provide snack lunches like the ones she’d served at the Mermaid in Cleybourn — even take-away meals for business folk. She might have a delivery service once she could afford a vehicle and a person to drive it, she told herself, excitement building.

  At five past eleven a car drew up and a young man got out. ‘Miss Dobson?’

  ‘That’s right.’ She held out her hand.

  He shook it and took the key from his pocket. ‘Right then, shall we go in?’

  *

  An hour later she was on her way home, her head spinning. Owning Bella’s would be a dream she hardly dared to believe could come true. First she would have to get that loan. Terry had seemed fairly optimistic about it, but she still felt doubtful. Why should a bank manager who had never even heard of her provide her with the wherewithal to take such a gigantic risk? Well, she wouldn’t know till she had tried, would she? She’d go round and make an appointment this afternoon.

  She ran down the area steps and let herself in. The morning papers were still on the kitchen table where Bill had dropped them on his way out. She put the kettle on for coffee and opened the first one, flipping over the pages and scanning them quickly for anything of interest. Then she saw it. Staring up at her was her own likeness, with Sally beside her. It was the photograph that Bill had taken on Christmas Day. And beside it, a picture of a much younger Marie, looking, apart from the out-dated hairstyle and clothes, uncannily like Sally. It was taken from an old newspaper at the time of her trial.

  Ignoring the whistling kettle Leah bent over the paper, reading quickly. It was all here; the harrowing story of Marie’s betrayal and the reunion brought about by the birth of Sally’s baby. But who could have written it? There was no by-line on the story. The new series was credited to someone called ‘Pandora’.

  Obviously a pseudonym. Her thoughts went immediately to Bill, but she quickly reasoned that it couldn’t have been him. He didn’t know about Marie’s conviction for terrorism. She’d shown only one person the letter Marie had sent her. There was only one person who knew this much about them all and who could also have had access to the photograph. Terry. Hadn’t he told her when she showed him Marie’s letter that he’d discovered the story of her trial and conviction when he went through the newspaper archives on her behalf last autumn?

  How could he do this to her? She recalled something he had said: ‘If I came across a really hot story I could always sell it to another paper.’ No wonder he’d talked her out of going back up north with him. He’d known the story would be published almost immediately and that when she saw it she’d realise it must have come from him. Clearly that hadn’t bothered him. He cared much more about his career than about her. Her eyes smarted, remembering their three days together, and at the realisation that all the time he was making love to her he was planning to capitalise on her story. She went upstairs and tried to put through a call to him, but they said at the Manchester office that he was out and wouldn’t be in for the rest of the day.

  By the time that Bill came in at one o’clock, looking for a quick sandwich and a coffee, she had worked herself into a state of impotent fury.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, breezing into the kitchen. ‘How did the viewing go?’ He stopped short at the look on her face. ‘Oh God — as bad as that, eh?’

  Leah passed the crumpled copy of the Recorder towards him. ‘Have you seen this?’

  ‘What is it? The Recorder?’ He laughed. ‘Come on, surely you don’t expect me to read a thing like that … He stopped in mid-sentence as his eyes fell on the photograph that he himself had taken. He scanned it quickly, then looked up at her. ‘My God. Is all this true — about your mother?’ She nodded. Suddenly he looked at her. ‘Leah, you didn’t think it was me, did you?’

  ‘No. I know who wrote it. It was Terry.’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Tel wouldn’t do a thing like that. He doesn’t work for this group, and anyway he thinks far too much of you to put you through something like this.’

  ‘He’s changed, Bill. He’s fiercely ambitious these days. He’s determined to get on. He told me only the other day that if he came across a good story he’d sell it to another paper.’

  Bill shook his head bemusedly. ‘Nothing wrong with ambition, but I can’t believe he’d do this to you, Leah. When I rang him on Boxing Day and told him about your sister he sounded so concerned, he …’

  ‘You rang him?’ She stared at him. Terry hadn’t come back because he was missing her but because Bill had prompted him to.

  ‘Well, yes.’ He looked slightly abashed. ‘I was worried about you. I felt you needed a friend with you — someone you could talk to, who knew you really well. He agreed to come at once. And the two of you have seemed so happy these past few days, I thought it had worked.’

  Leah felt sick. There was a huge lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. ‘Oh, it w
orked all right,’ she said thickly. ‘For Terry, it worked.’ She stabbed at the paper with her finger. ‘Will they have asked Marie for permission to print this? Surely they aren’t allowed to publish without?’

  ‘If it’s all true and there’s nothing libellous in it, yes, they are.’

  ‘I see.’ Leah flung herself into a chair. ‘Well, that’s that then.’ She looked up at him with an expression that wrung his heart. ‘I’ve got to make a go of Bella’s now, Bill. I’ve wasted too much time. At least Terry was right about that. He was telling me to stand on my own feet and that’s what I intend to do from now on.' She got up. ‘I’ll go and make an appointment to see the bank manager right away.’

  ‘Leah — wait.’ Bill put out a hand to stop her. ‘Look, love, I don’t want to discourage you, but you haven’t a prayer of getting a loan from a bank.’ Seeing her defeated look he drew her towards him. ‘I’m only telling you because I don’t want to see you face another disappointment. Think about it. You don’t have anything to offer in the way of security. And although I’ve every faith in your ability to succeed, you’re very young. A spell as a barmaid and another few months as a waitress isn’t going to impress any bank manager I know — not in the present economic climate.’

  Her shoulders slumped. ‘Thanks. So what do you suggest I do next? Dig a hole and jump in?’

  ‘Why don’t you let me put up the money?’

  ‘That’s not standing on my own feet, is it? Besides, if the bank won’t lend me money, why should you?’

  ‘Because I believe in you. Look, I’m no fool, Leah. If the restaurant did well for the Andrettis, it’ll do well again for you — better even. If I didn’t believe that I’d tell you to forget the idea.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Hell, look at the time. I’ve got to go. What d’you say we sit down and work something out tonight, eh?’ Already he was on his way out.