This Child of Mine

by Sinéad Moriarty

  ‘Like an apple tart?’ another little girl wondered.

  Georgiana shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. It could be rhubarb. Mummy hates rhubarb.’

  Anna thanked Georgiana and moved on to the next child. ‘My name’s Clara and I’m five and a half and I don’t like school because it’s too long and boring. I’m going to Spain with my family and our au-pair. Her name is Natasha and she comes from a country that sounds like the Crane.’

  ‘Ukraine?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Yes, that’s it. Mummy says Natasha needs to pull up her socks because otherwise she’ll have to go back to the Crane. I pull up my socks every morning when I get dressed because I don’t want Mummy to send me to the Crane with Natasha.’

  ‘Good for you.’ Anna tried not to laugh.

  The next girl spoke up: ‘My name is Nathalie and I speak French at home and English in school. We are going home to France for the summer. Maman says that she can’t wait to get back to Bordeaux. She thinks English people are very strange because they talk about the weather all day. Maman says it’s boring to talk about the weather. She says we should be talking about filo-sophie and litter-ture. She says the women here put on too much lipstick and clothes that are very tight so they can’t breathe and shoes that are too high so they can’t walk. Maman says that English women are not chic. She says they are very show-offy and wear all their jewels all the time, even at breakfast! Maman says that it’s vulgar.’

  ‘I see. Well, that’s a very interesting insight.’ Anna exchanged glances with Mrs Kirkwood, who was chuckling behind her hand.

  ‘My mummy says that your mummy is rude,’ a little girl with plaits piped up.

  ‘Rebecca, no telling tales,’ Mrs Kirkwood warned.

  ‘I’m not telling tales. My mummy said that Nathalie’s mummy is very condersending and that she needs to remember that the French are a bunch of cheese-eating sur-ender monkeys.’

  ‘Maman is not a monkey! And monkeys eat bananas, not cheese, you idiot.’ Nathalie pouted like a true Frenchwoman.

  ‘I am not an idiot –’

  ‘Let’s move on, shall we?’ Anna suggested, pointing to the next girl.

  ‘My name is Amelia and we’re not going on holiday this year because my daddy was made dundant.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Georgiana asked.

  ‘Um, well, Mummy said that he doesn’t have a job any more and that his cheeks are bouncing all over the city.’

  ‘Bouncing cheeks? That’s funny.’ Clara giggled.

  ‘Mummy said if Daddy doesn’t get a new job soon I’ll have to go to a coppenhensif school.’

  ‘Oooooooooh.’ All the girls looked horrified.

  ‘The children in those schools are crazy,’ Georgiana said.

  ‘Now, girls,’ Anna interrupted, ‘comprehensive schools are perfectly good. But, Amelia, I don’t want you to worry about going to a new school. You will always be welcome here. I’ll talk to your mummy.’

  ‘A boy got killed in a coppenhensif school,’ Clara said. ‘Another boy got a knife and killed him in the classroom and there was blood everywhere and the police came and put the other boy in prison for infinity days.’

  ‘I don’t want to go there.’ Amelia looked terrified.

  ‘And the girls pull your hair and kick you and punch –’

  ‘That’s enough, Clara,’ Anna said firmly. ‘Most comprehensive schools are very good, and that was just a most unfortunate incident. Anyway, as I said, Amelia doesn’t have to worry about going to one next year.’

  ‘I’m going to Ireland on my holiday,’ a sweet little girl with long black hair announced.

  ‘That’s nice.’ Anna smiled at her.

  ‘I hate going to Ireland,’ the little girl admitted.

  ‘Why?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Because my granny lives in a little village and all the kids make fun of how I talk and my granny makes me eat yucky food, like cabbage and pudding.’

  ‘I love pudding!’ Amelia said.

  ‘It’s not pudding like we have here. It’s like a long lumpy black sausage and my cousin told me it’s made from pigs’ blood!’

  ‘Yuck.’ The little girls made gagging noises.

  Anna laughed. ‘My mother used to try to get me to eat black pudding but I never liked it either.’

  ‘It makes me want to be sick but my granny gets really cross with me if I don’t eat it. She says that millions of people in Ireland died because they had no food when the potatoes went all black and I’m lucky to have food to eat and that it’s a sin not to eat it.’

  ‘Maybe you should talk to your mummy about it?’ Anna suggested.

  ‘I did, and she said she thinks it’s yucky too and she wishes Daddy was from France and not Ireland so that we could eat foie gras and have sunny days.’

  ‘My granny’s Irish and she gives me sweets and chocolate and never makes me eat yucky food,’ another girl said. ‘But Mummy was cross with her after the last holiday because I had to have a filling in my tooth when I came back.’

  ‘Oh, no, poor you.’ Anna was sympathetic.

  ‘Mummy was furious and said Granny was naughty because Mummy asked her not to give me sweets. Then Granny said she was only trying to be nice and Daddy told Mummy to leave Granny alone, and Mummy told Daddy to crawl back under the rock he came from, which is funny because babies come from their mummies’ tummies, not rocks, don’t they?’

  ‘Yes, pet,’ Anna agreed.

  ‘No!’ A tiny little girl jumped up. ‘If you’re adopted, like me, then you come from Vietnam. My mummy and daddy got me in a special hotel where God keeps all the best babies in the world. When they saw me they knew I was their heart baby. Mummy says it’s better to be adopted because you’re more specialer than other children.’

  ‘Well, that’s a lovely way of putting it.’ Anna beamed at her. She was right, because that was exactly how she felt about Sophie: she was her heart baby.

  When Anna got home, she found Sophie in her bedroom on her laptop. She slammed it shut when Anna walked in.

  ‘God, Mum, you gave me a fright.’

  ‘Sorry. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Better.’

  ‘Good. Are you hungry? I could heat up the lasagne from last night.’

  ‘OK.’

  Anna and Sophie went down to the kitchen. Sophie set the table while Anna heated the lasagne and made a salad.

  When they sat down to eat, Anna asked Sophie what she had done all day.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What do you mean “why”? I’m your mother. I’m interested in knowing what you spent your day doing.’

  ‘Nothing. Holly came over and we just hung out.’

  ‘Good. You needed a day resting.’

  Sophie didn’t answer.

  ‘Well, only ten days to go and we’ll be in France. I can’t wait.’ Anna smiled at her daughter.

  Sophie prodded her lasagne with her fork. ‘You know the fire?’

  Anna frowned. ‘What fire?’

  ‘The fire in which all my baby photos were burned.’

  Anna stared at her. Where had this come from? She took a breath. ‘Yes. What about it?’

  ‘Where was it?’

  ‘In Dublin.’

  ‘I know that, but where?’

  ‘I told you. In the house I lived in, close to the centre.’

  ‘So did the whole place burn down?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How come you’ve still got the photos of your mum and dad?’

  Anna could feel her ulcer burning. ‘Because I had them in my bag. Why are you asking all these questions?’

  ‘Because I’m interested. I want to know more about my past. What’s so strange about that?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Why do you not like me asking questions?’

  Anna knew it was imperative that she stay calm and appear unfazed. ‘I don’t mind at all. It’s fine.’

  Sophie speared a piece of cucumber. ‘Why do we never go back to Ir
eland?’

  ‘I’ve told you before. I don’t have anyone to go back to and it just reminds me of my parents and their loss.’

  ‘I’d like to visit their graves. I’d like to see where you grew up and went to school and all that.’

  ‘It’s not important and a graveyard is no place for a young girl. They’re very gloomy and depressing. Now, come on, eat up.’

  Sophie ignored her. ‘But you must have some friends in Ireland that you’d like to see.’

  Anna put her fork down. ‘I have Joe.’

  ‘Apart from Joe.’

  ‘Look, Sophie, I left Ireland because I was unhappy. I came to London to get away from it all and I’ve been incredibly happy here. I don’t see the point in going back. My life is here, with you.’ She reached out for Sophie’s hand, but her daughter pulled away.

  ‘Who was there when I was born?’

  Anna’s ulcer blazed. ‘I told you, just my mother.’

  ‘Why did you call me Sophie?’

  ‘You know it’s because it was my mother’s name. What is all this about?’

  Sophie glared at her. ‘What’s wrong? Can’t I ask a few questions about my life and my childhood without you freaking out?’

  Anna gripped the table. ‘I’m not freaking out,’ she lied.

  ‘Good, because I have more questions for you.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘What did my dad look like?’

  ‘He looked like you. Blond, blue eyes, pale skin.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘I’ve said this before, Sophie. I’m not proud of it but my relationship with your father was just a fling.’

  ‘A one-night stand?’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  Sophie rapped her fingers on the table. ‘Weren’t you surprised that I didn’t look anything like you when I was born?’

  ‘Lots of children look like their fathers or vice versa.’

  ‘What about my synaesthesia? Isn’t it strange that no one in your family had it?’

  ‘Not really. You obviously got that from your dad too.’

  Sophie shook her head. ‘You have answers for everything, haven’t you, Mum?’

  Anna wanted desperately to ask where this was going, where it had come from and what had sparked it, but she was too scared. Why was Sophie behaving like this? Why was she suddenly so interested in her past? Her ulcer flared and scorched in her abdomen.

  Despite her best efforts to remain poised, tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Sophie, pet, all I can tell you is that, despite being the result of a brief affair, you are the most wonderful thing ever to happen to me. I thank God every day that I met your dad. I’m the luckiest person in the world. You mean everything to me.’

  Sophie stood up. ‘Stop it, Mum – OK? Just stop it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s too much. I can’t breathe. You’re smothering me.’ Sophie stormed out of the kitchen, ran upstairs to her bedroom and locked herself in.

  Anna rushed up after her. She leaned her head against the door. ‘Sophie, darling, I love you. That’s all you really need to know. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more about your father, but I’ve tried to be the best mum I can be to make up for him not being around.’

  Silence.

  ‘Sophie, are you OK? Please talk to me. You’re scaring me, you seem so stressed.’

  ‘I’m fine. I need sleep – I’m exhausted.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘Please just go away.’

  ‘I’m worried.’

  ‘I’m fine. I’m OK. Just go.’

  Anna stayed at the door for a while. There were no sounds from inside. She went into her bedroom and took some tablets to help the piercing pain in her stomach.

  She lay down on her bed and forced herself to breathe slowly. What was going on? Why was Sophie behaving like this? Could she have found something to make her suspicious? Anna had been so careful. It must be about her dad. Maybe now she had finished school and was about to go to college she wanted to know more about who she was. Anna hoped she wasn’t going to interrogate her regularly – she couldn’t handle it. She had suppressed the doubts and the worry. They were buried deep inside her and that was where they needed to stay.

  Her phone rang and she jumped. It was Joe. ‘Hey there! How’s it going? I’m calling to finalize our holiday plans. I’ve finally got Mark to commit. He’s going to come for the week in Provence.’

  ‘Oh, right, yes.’

  ‘Anna, could you try to sound enthusiastic?’

  Anna peeled her eyes away from Sophie’s locked door. ‘Sorry, I’m thrilled, honestly. I’m just having a bad day.’

  ‘Is your ulcer playing up?’

  ‘Horrendously.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘It’s Sophie,’ she whispered. ‘She’s been acting strangely the last day or so and tonight at dinner she started interrogating me.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About my past and why I never go back to Ireland and why I have no baby pictures of her and a lot about who her dad is.’

  Joe exhaled deeply. ‘I told you this would happen, Anna. All kids eventually want to know more.’

  Anna closed her eyes. So many lies, so much deceit …

  ‘I know you’re sick of me saying it, but you really need to tell her the truth. She has to know that she was adopted. I knew this would come back to haunt you. You may believe that keeping the truth from her was for her benefit, but it doesn’t make it right. She’s old enough to know what really happened.’

  Anna began to cry. ‘She’s mine, Joe. She’s not someone else’s, she’s mine. I saved her. I gave her a good life. I’m her mother.’

  ‘Of course you are,’ Joe soothed. ‘You’re the only parent she’s ever known. You’re not going to lose her by telling her she’s adopted. I know it’s frightening for you – all adoptive parents feel this way – but you mustn’t get yourself into a state. I’ve seen the way Sophie looks at you and she adores you.’

  Anna wiped away mascara-streaked tears. ‘I love her so much, Joe. I don’t want anything coming in and interfering with our lives.’

  ‘Whatever happens, she’ll never stop thinking of you as her real mother. You’re the one who changed her nappies and nursed her when she was sick and kissed her when she fell over. You’re her mum in every way, so stop worrying.’

  Anna’s head pounded. She couldn’t think straight. ‘Thanks, Joe. Look, I’d better go. I’m so glad Mark’s coming on holidays – Sophie will be thrilled. I can’t wait to see you both.’

  ‘Hey, look after yourself and don’t worry too much – you’ll aggravate the ulcer. Call me anytime, day or night, if you’re worried about Sophie. I’m here for you, Anna, you know that.’

  ‘Thanks, Joe. That means a lot.’

  ‘Get some rest. See you in two weeks.’

  ‘’Bye, Joe.’

  Anna hung up. Her mind was racing. She needed to banish the fears: she had to distract herself, calm down. She did what she always did on bad days: she got the box down from the top of her wardrobe and looked at the photos.

  As she turned the pages of the first album she felt her heart rate slowing. It was like magic. She looked at Sophie’s smiling face, radiating out from the pages, a happy, contented, cherished child.

  My Sophie. My baby girl. My daughter. Mine.

  18.

  Laura

  Killduf, July 2011

  Lexie sat cross-legged in front of Mandy. They were in the lounge. Laura was sitting at her computer, under the arch in the kitchen, looking through a pile of paperwork and a long list of emails.

  ‘Go on, darlin’, I’m all ears.’ Lexie was urging Mandy to sing.

  ‘I’m too embarrassed. My stuff’s crap.’

  ‘I bet it’s brilliant. Your mum said so.’

  Mandy threw her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Mum says everything I do is brilliant. It doesn’t mean anything.’

  ‘My mum told me I’d n
ever amount to anything. I’d have liked a bit of praise. Now, go on, don’t make me beg.’

  ‘All right, but don’t laugh, OK? Promise?’

  ‘Mandy, I got me boobs out for a living. I’m in awe of anyone with a real talent. Get on with it before my arse goes numb.’

  Mandy bent over her guitar. Her fringe fell over her eyes, hiding them from her audience. Laura peeped around the corner and smiled. Good old Lexie. She was brilliant with Mandy, bringing her out of herself and reminding her constantly how lucky she was. Laura had half a mind to ask her to move in permanently.

  ‘This song is called “Trapped In A World I Didn’t Create And Want To Dissipate”.’

  ‘Sounds like a barrel of laughs,’ Lexie remarked.

  Laura stifled a giggle.

  ‘It’s about my life,’ Mandy mumbled.

  Lexie clapped her hands. ‘I can’t wait to hear it. Off you go.’

  Mandy closed her eyes and began to strum …

  I was born into a family of dysfunction, it’s hard to function.

  Sometimes I feel as if I’m in a prison, new thoughts arisen.

  I long to break away and start a new day.

  But my mother stalks me, she lost my sister see,

  She can’t let go of me, it’s family history.

  But I’m sick of paying,

  The stress is weighing me down.

  Oh yeah, oh yeah, weighing me down,

  Oh yeah oh yeah, down down down.

  Until my forehead is nothing but a frown,

  Oh no oh no, nothing but a frown.

  Wait for this, it gets more glum,

  You see I’ve got a stepmum.

  She’s a selfish be-ach and I wish she would catch

  A horrible disease that would make her wheeze

  And stop breathing and die. I wouldn’t cry.

  I’d be over the moon, it couldn’t happen too soon,

  I dream about it all the time, her living is a crime,

  Her death will come, she’ll be nothing but a crumb,

  Oh yeah oh yeah, nothing but a crumb … crumb … cruuuuuuuuumb.’

  Mandy howled out the last word.

  ‘Well I never!’ Lexie exclaimed. ‘You don’t hold back, do you? Poor old Tanya, I almost feel sorry for her.’ She chuckled. ‘I’d say her ears are burning. Have you played this song for your dad?’