by Karen Osman
‘Do you prefer lasagne or roast chicken?’ she asked her daughter absent-mindedly. ‘I’d ask your father, but he doesn’t seem to eat much of anything I make these days,’ she added sadly, glancing at the leftover food on the tray in her hands. Dumping the tray near the kitchen sink, Angela took a chair opposite her and poured a cup of tea for each of them.
‘I know the doctor said the chemo would be hard on him,’ continued Rosemary, ‘but I thought it was supposed to make him better. After every session, he just seems to deteriorate more and more.’
Angela silently agreed but as Rosemary pulled out a tissue, she knew it was optimism and encouragement that was needed now.
‘I know, Mum, but we are going to beat this. There will be good days and bad days, but ultimately, the treatment will help, I’m sure of it.’
‘Do you really think so? I’ve been trying so hard to be positive but when I see him like this… it just feels so hopeless.’
‘I really do, Mum,’ replied Angela firmly, pushing her own doubts aside.
‘The doctor is such a lovely man, but it’s hard to get a definitive answer, if you know what I mean,’ Rosemary explained. ‘I know there are no guarantees – he was very clear about that from the beginning – but I so just want to be told everything will be all right.’ Rosemary looked Angela in the eye. ‘Does that sound ridiculous?’
‘Of course not. We all have days like that. But, everything is going to be all right. By Christmas, Dad will be in a different place completely.’
‘Yes, you’re right, of course you are. Thank you, darling. Sometimes I just get bogged down in it all.’
Glad to have been able to help, Angela asked about coming to the next doctor’s appointment.
‘It’s a lovely idea but I would check with your dad,’ Rosemary said. ‘You know what he’s like. He didn’t even want me to be there really, but I insisted. “For better or worse,” I reminded him.
‘Of course,’ replied Angela. She was pretty certain her dad wouldn’t mind, and once again she wondered if her mum was trying to put her off. ‘I’ll ask him when he wakes up.’
Rosemary suddenly stood up, severing the proximity between them. ‘What about work?’ she asked, turning her back to Angela as she started to do the washing up.
‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll sort it.’
‘OK, well, see what your dad says. You have a lot on yourself. How is the adoption support group going?’
Angela had told her parents about the meetings over the phone and James had sounded particularly pleased she’d taken the initiative so quickly.
‘Actually, I have a little bit of news on that,’ said Angela tentatively, wondering if this was the right time to bring it up.
‘Oh?’ Rosemary’s concentration was still very much on the soapy bowl in front of her.
‘Yes, Susan – you remember I mentioned her – she’s the organiser and founder of this particular group.’ Angela took a quick breath. ‘Well, she’s found my birth mother.’
Rosemary swivelled then, clearly taken aback, the submerged dishes forgotten. Angela immediately backtracked. ‘Sorry, Mum, perhaps this wasn’t the best time to tell you.’
‘Of course, it was, darling! Sorry, I hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. I’m just surprised, that’s all.’
Relieved, Angela continued, ‘Me too. When Susan called to tell me, it was a bit of a shock.’
‘I can imagine!’ Rosemary replied, quickly turning back to the dishes.
‘Well, it’s thanks to you and Dad really. Susan said all the information you provided made it one of the easiest searches she’d done.’
‘I’m sure. Your dad was adamant about getting all your background information. He even had a solicitor involved to cross-check everything. It seemed excessive to me, but he wanted to make sure you would have the option to find your birth mother,’ she replied, as she carefully placed each plate on the drying rack. ‘So, what’s next?’
Angela noticed the singular use in her Mum’s speech: He wanted to make sure. Had her mum not wanted her to find her birth mother? She mentally filed the question away to think about later.
‘Well,’ replied Angela, ‘Susan said the organisation can act as an intermediary or I can meet her myself. Either way, Susan has already contacted her to make sure she’s open to meeting.’
‘And is she?’
‘What?’
‘Open to meeting you?’
‘Yes, according to Susan she is.’
‘I see.’
Angela tried to interpret her mother’s tone. She was beginning to regret sharing the news. What was her problem? She should have waited for her dad to be there so she could tell them together.
‘So, what will you do?’ asked Rosemary.
‘I’m not sure yet. What do you think?’
‘How is your relationship with Susan?’
‘Good – she’s very supportive and very experienced. She’s been doing this a long time.’
‘Well, it’s up to you, of course, but if Susan can help make the process a little easier, it would seem like the right choice to me.’
‘Yes, you could be right. Susan would basically come to the meeting, make introductions and then let us talk. That’s how it was explained to me, anyway.’
‘Sounds like a good approach. No one likes surprises, and this way they can prepare you for what to expect.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Angela.
‘Well, just that you don’t know what she’s like, do you? It could be a shock for you meeting her for the first time.’
Angela didn’t respond.
‘Don’t listen to me, darling. It will all be fine, I’m sure,’ Rosemary said. ‘Just remember that your dad and I are both here if you need us, OK?’
Slipping off her chair, Angela made her excuses and went to her bedroom. Lying down on her bed, she was surprised to feel drowsy. It was a late Saturday morning and usually she’d be on her way to the office by now to put in a few extra hours. She’d just close her eyes for a few minutes. As she drifted off, Angela wondered why her mum wasn’t as keen as Dad on finding her birth mother. While she had assumed they were both in agreement when they had first mentioned it, it seemed to her that Mum might not be quite so in favour.
*
It was a good two hours later when Angela woke with a start. She didn’t know where she was at first. She had been dreaming, the impressions still vivid in her mind. Her dad was in a hospital bed but instead of being surrounded by wires and tubes, he was sitting up, animated, and talking loudly. He seemed happy. A woman was sitting on the bed next to him, holding his hand and laughing with him. Angela thought it was her mum, but as she approached, the woman turned to look at her before swivelling back to her father and ignoring her. It was then Angela saw it wasn’t her mum at all but an older version of herself. Agitated, she called out.
‘Dad?’
He also ignored her and continued talking, the woman grasping on to him. Angela didn’t know who she was, but she knew she had to find out.
‘Dad!’ she tried to call again.
She was struggling with her voice – the more she tried to speak, the harder it became. She could feel the panic rising in her chest. Suddenly, the conversation stopped, and the woman got up from the bed. She walked slowly towards Angela, her face passive, her suit crisp, her walk robotic. She was no longer smiling.
*
Shaking off the last remnants of the dream, Angela could smell what she guessed was the lasagne cooking in the oven. How could she have slept so long? She was supposed to be here to help. Quickly rinsing her face, she headed to the kitchen.
‘Just in time for lunch,’ said James, as she sat down at the table. ‘I thought I was the only one who napped around here,’ he joked.
Angela kissed him on the cheek. ‘I honestly don’t know what happened. One minute, I was awake and the next…’ Angela shook her head in disbelief. She never napped.
‘Here you go,’ said Rose
mary, placing the lasagne in front of her. ‘Those long hours have to catch up with you at some point.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ Angela replied, digging in, suddenly starving. ‘It smells great!’
A few minutes passed as they enjoyed their lunch.
‘So,’ started James, ‘Mum says you might have something to tell me?’
‘I thought you might want to tell him yourself,’ said Rosemary.
Still fuzzy from the sleep, it took Angela a second to work out she was talking about the discovery of Evelyn. Angela took a deep breath before telling him the news. How would he respond? She needn’t have worried. He was thrilled.
‘Oh, Angel, that really has made my day. I’m so happy for you. And she wants to meet you, too!’ James exclaimed. ‘Well, of course she does, she’d be a fool not to!’
‘We haven’t had the first meeting yet, but I think Susan will act as an intermediary.’
‘Of course, of course,’ replied James. ‘But the main thing is she’s here and well in London. It’s a good first step, Angel. Well done!’
Angela warmed at the praise. To see her dad so cheerful had made all the time spent at the meetings worthwhile.
‘What do you think, Rosie?’ he asked. ‘Great news, eh?’
‘Indeed.’
Angela took a discreet sideways glance. Rosemary’s expression was neutral, her efforts concentrated solely on the food in front of her.
‘So, when is the meeting set for?’ asked James, seemingly oblivious to his wife’s silence.
‘Next week. Susan’s offered to come with me and facilitate.’
‘Good idea. I don’t like the idea of you going to her flat alone.’
‘Her flat?’ said Rosemary.
‘Flat, house, whatever,’ he responded, turning to Angela again. ‘This Susan sounds like a really good woman.’
‘Yes, she’s been really helpful so far,’ agreed Angela.
‘Perhaps you want to take a few pictures of yourself from when you grew up here?’ James suggested. ‘What do you say, Rosie, love? Would that be a nice thing to do, or rubbing her nose in it, do you think?’
‘Oh, James, I’m not sure about that. Why don’t you let them get the first meeting out of the way first?’
‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ he replied. ‘But still, one photo wouldn’t hurt, would it?’
Angela watched her dad. He seemed animated, excited almost. It was a stark contrast to her mum’s reserved demeanour. As they continued their almost one-sided conversation, Angela listened. She could almost feel sympathy for her mum. It couldn’t be easy seeing the daughter you raised go off and meet her birth mother. What if she was planning to meet her birth father? She wondered if her dad would be as enthusiastic.
20
Wednesday 16 January 1974
Dear Diary,
Me and Maureen are planning our escape. We’re going to take Julia with us. We just need to try and get Mary to come too. But Kath won’t let us upstairs to see her. I wrote to Nelly for help and stole the money from Kath’s purse for a stamp. I posted it myself on the way to school instead of giving it to Ray. Ray doesn’t buy me gifts any more and Kath always gives me the smallest portion of meat, if any. They ignore me as long as I do my chores. I don’t think they will be throwing me a birthday party this year.
A.
Saturday 19 January 1974
Dear Diary,
Kath found out that I stole money from her purse. I don’t know how she knew. She came storming through to where we were doing our homework and demanded to know who had done it. When she saw it was me, she yanked me into the kitchen and used every wooden spoon she had on me. One cracked me on my temple, splitting the skin. She sat down at the kitchen table then, and put her head into hands, telling me to get out. Maureen had to help me clean up all the blood. Some birthday that was.
A.
Wednesday 13 February 1974
Dear Diary,
Maureen thinks we should leave in April when it’s warmer. I think we should tell Mr Wright. Maureen says if we tell anyone Ray will break someone else’s arm. I asked her what she meant. She told me that Stuart didn’t fall over. Stuart had told a teacher that Ray and Kath weren’t good people. Ray found out. When Stuart tried to run, Ray caught him and punished him.
A.
Friday 15 February 1974
Dear Diary,
Ray and Kath have grounded all of us for two weeks. We’re not allowed to play outside any more and the TV has been taken upstairs. Peter tried to sneak upstairs to see Mary, but he got caught and Ray said he was going to get the thrashing of his life. We could hear his screams all the way through the house. Ray said that because of Peter, we will all be punished, and we should consider ourselves lucky it’s just for two weeks. Everyone is quiet in the house – even the littlies. Peter has had to stay off school as his face is so purple and covered in bruises.
A.
Thursday 21 March 1974
Dear Diary,
The bald Home Inspector is coming! This could be our chance. Last time he came, he replaced Nasty Nora and Fat Franny so maybe he can do the same again and get Nasty Nora and Fat Franny back? Me, Maureen, and Peter discussed it at school. Peter said if we tried to escape we would starve as we’re not old enough to earn any money. I said we could go to Nelly’s. Peter told me not to be stupid – we don’t have money to get there. We decided that we would slip a note into the Inspector’s bag and tell him about Kath and Ray and how they’re bad people. Then the Inspector would have to get rid of them. Maureen wrote the note because she has the best handwriting.
A.
Sunday 24 March 1974
Dear Diary,
We have spent the whole weekend cleaning for the Inspector and we weren’t allowed to play outside even though it wasn’t raining. On Sunday afternoon, though, Ray told Kath we all looked pale and that we can play outside for an hour before bath-time. He said we have to look our best for the Inspector. We played skipping with the littlies but I couldn’t concentrate – what if the Inspector doesn’t come with a bag? How will we pass him the note without Ray and Kath seeing?
A.
Monday 25 March 1974
Dear Diary,
Our plan worked! The Inspector brought a black leather briefcase with a side pocket. He put it on the chair next to him while he was having his cup of tea with Kath and Ray. They were very friendly to him and Kath had even made him a cake. When they took him on a tour, Maureen slipped the note into his bag and gave me a secret smile.
A.
Tuesday 26 March 1974
Dear Diary,
Peter thinks nothing will happen for at least a month. I bet him my yellow marble that Kath and Ray would be asked to leave within the week. I imagine them being handcuffed and led away into a police car. The Inspector then introduces two nice old ladies to look after us and they bring bikes for everyone to make up for the nastiness of Kath and Ray. One lady can cook and the other is really good at making clothes.
A.
Wednesday 27 March 1974
Dear Diary,
Nothing has happened. When I’m in the den with Ray, I listen for the Inspector’s footsteps.
A.
Wednesday 3 April 1974
Dear Diary,
It’s been over a week. I had to give Peter my yellow marble. I wanted to throw it at him.
A.
Friday 5 April 1974
Dear Diary,
The Inspector finally came at 4 o’clock today. But there was no police car. He sat and drank tea as usual while me and Peter listened behind the kitchen door. We couldn’t hear very much but as soon as we heard the chairs scraping back we scarpered. Ray and Kath both saw him out. After he left, Ray locked and bolted the door and drew all the curtains. Ray had a face like thunder. I think we all knew it was bad. One of the littlies wet themselves. We were asked to line up for inspection. But there wasn’t an inspection. In Ray’s hand was the note me, Maureen, and Peter had written, w
hich he held up and demanded to know who was responsible for it. We were all quiet. All of sudden, he grabbed Julia and made her kneel down and began taking off his belt. He wouldn’t, I thought, but he had cracked it on the soles of her feet before I could even blink. She screamed – a shriek like a cat when it’s in a fight. Peter and I jumped forward. I grabbed Julia and hugged her hard, trying to squeeze the pain out of her. I did it, said me and Peter at the same time. Maureen said nothing, the coward. Ray looked at us both and I felt sick. He made me and Peter step forward. Everyone had to watch while he lashed us with his belt. But that wasn’t the worst part. He then forced us to remove our clothes so we were completely naked in front of everyone and made us bend over on our hands and knees. By now, the littlies were besides themselves. He shouted at them to shut it before telling everyone that this is what happens when you lie. He made them all watch as he beat us on our bare backsides, over and over again, until I eventually must have passed out.
A.
Friday 19 April 1974
Dear Diary,
I now know where Mary is. She’s not in her own bedroom, smoking and looking at her David Bowie posters. She’s locked up in the basement with just a thin mattress to sleep on and a bucket to do her business. I know, because I was locked up with her for almost two weeks. She slept a lot. Every morning, Kath came down, gave her a pill and some food and water and she went back to sleep. My skin is not my own any more. It burned a lot, especially when Kath put the cream on it. Kath said I should be thankful I’m getting cream to help it heal. I don’t feel thankful. I wish I’d died down there in the basement. I was kept off school and I thought about my mother a lot – why would she leave me in a place like this?
A.
Monday 20 May 1974
Dear Diary,
I didn’t go to school today. My feet just carried on walking past the school gates. I just wanted to be alone for a long time. I went to the park and sat on the bench. I was only going to stay for a few minutes and then go straight to school. But it was so nice in the park – no crying, no Ray, no Kath, no punishments. I lay on the grass and looked at the sky. I will have to forge a sick note tomorrow.
