‘She’ll know you’re looking after her baby because she trusts you, remember?’
I nod. ‘I have to do something. He can’t get away with what he’s done to me. He’s cheated his wife and me.’ I wrinkle my nose. ‘I believed everything he said. How could I have been so stupid?’
* * *
According to Gemma’s Instagram page on Friday morning, she’s coming home at lunchtime.
We hang around near their house to see them arrive with the baby. Cole looks crumpled and tired as he lifts the baby’s car seat out. He stops a moment and kisses his son’s forehead, then carries him into the house. The mouse gets out more slowly and waddles like she’s holding something between her knees. Cole reaches into the boot for her holdall then he links his arm through hers and guides her inside.
As soon as we arrive home, Amy switches on her laptop and checks the baby monitor. At last it’s been switched on. In moments we have a full-screen view of their nursery. Easy as anything. We don’t have to wait long before Gemma carries the baby in and changes its nappy on the changing table. Fortunately, we only have a view of her back for that one, but we can hear everything she says to the baby, all the cooing and chat about this being his own special bedroom. She sits on the rocking chair afterwards, facing the window so we only have a side view of her feeding the baby. Soon after, Cole comes in with a mug of tea. He sits in the window seat opposite them and speaks quietly to her, but she doesn’t look up once. Louder now, he tells her to listen to him when he speaks, but she shakes her head, looking down at the baby who seems to have dropped off to sleep. Cole catches her wrist in his hand and her pained face tips up to his until he lets go.
‘What is he doing to her?’ Amy points at the screen.
‘Jesus. Is he for real? Why is he hurting her?’ This isn’t the same man I fell in love with.
‘See, she knows that whoever owns those knickers has been in the house, probably in her bed. But he doesn’t like her accusing him. He’s not having any of it.’
‘I’m going to invite him to my birthday barbecue tomorrow. If things are this bad at home, I think he might actually come.’
‘Good because he’s got a whole lot of shit coming his way.’ Her lip curls in a snarl. We high five.
‘I’ll show him he can’t chuck me away and get away with it. He’d better seriously watch out.’
Chapter Sixty
11 August 2018
Scarlett
I wake up early on Saturday and wonder what being twenty-one really means these days? There’s not much I can do today that I couldn’t do yesterday. Should I be climbing the career ladder by now or travelling the world like lots of my old school friends, according to their social media pages? All I want is to find out where I come from, who my dad is. Only then can I really work out what I want to do with my life.
Mum brings me in a cup of tea and a muffin. She sits on the bed and gives me a hug, holding me a bit longer than usual. She’s always emotional on my birthday. I’ve never asked why, but I suspect it was a difficult birth and that’s the real reason why I don’t have any brothers or sisters.
‘Thanks, Mum.’
I bite into the blueberry muffin, my favourite.
‘You’ve turned into a beautiful young woman, do you know that?’ she says stroking my hair. ‘Ready to go out into the world on your own. I only wish…’ She covers her mouth, swallows hard and stands up, goes across to the window. Outside, a spider in the top corner is busy spinning a fly in its silken web.
‘What do you wish?’
‘It’s okay.’ Whatever she was going to say has slipped down her throat. She glances at Amy on the floor bed, still fast asleep. ‘Are you looking forward to your party tonight? Invited anyone special?’
‘Not really.’ I’m glad I’ve not told her anything about Cole. She’d be right to disapprove. ‘I’m looking forward to it. Thank you.’
As she turns to leave, I call her back. ‘Mum, you promised to tell me one thing about my dad, remember?’
There’s a long pause before Mum speaks.
‘Okay maybe, but not today.’
‘I know you’re trying to protect me, but I can handle it, whatever it is that went wrong between you.’
‘I don’t want to spoil your birthday. Please, let’s just… enjoy it.’ She swallows hard again.
‘Okay. When?’
‘Maybe tomorrow, or the day after that.’ She looks down at the carpet.
‘Did he leave you for someone else?’
She sighs. ‘I wish you didn’t have to know any of it.’
I still have the choice of living the rest of my life not knowing who he is, why they broke up. Lots of people don’t know who their dads are and they’re okay, aren’t they? They get on with their lives. What makes me so special that I have to know? Maybe I will look back on today as the time before; when I was blissfully ignorant. Part of me wants to say, Don’t worry, I don’t need to know, but a worm of curiosity has burrowed so deep inside me, I need to feed it.
Amy wakes up as Mum closes my bedroom door. I tell her about our conversation in hushed whispers.
‘I think it sounds like a bad break-up your mum has never got over. Maybe he ran off with someone she really trusted.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about, digging it all up will upset her. Just the mention of him stresses her out. Maybe I should leave it.’
‘Trouble is, there will never be a good time. Totally understandable if you decide not to find out. Sometimes it’s better not knowing what went on. I used to think if my mum told me who my dad was, I’d be overjoyed, feel complete and I wouldn’t care what he’d done, he’s my dad and I’d love him whatever. But when she did tell me, I realized I couldn’t erase it from my head. Robbing and killing an old woman in her own home is not something I can forgive or forget. I know I will carry it around with me for the rest of my life.’
‘Yeah, I know you’re right, but I can’t help being curious. It’s a piece of my life that’s always been missing. I think I’d still like to know, even if it means I end up not wanting him in my life.’
‘I’m just glad my mum doesn’t want me to meet my dad or anything like that.’
We laugh at how bad that would be even though it’s not funny at all.
‘Anyway, happy birthday, I got this for you.’ Amy takes a present wrapped in shiny paper out of her rucksack. There are creases in it where it has been used before, but it doesn’t bother me. I rip the paper off and take out a book, The Secret History by Donna Tartt.
‘I love it and I think you will too,’ she says and gives me a hug.
‘Thank you!’ I hold the book to my chest and then I hug her back. She is more like a sister to me every day.
I text Cole to see if he can come to my party even though he’ll probably say a flat no. He doesn’t reply for ages, then an answer pings up on my screen.
What time?
From 8.30.
I’ll be there.
‘Cole’s coming.’ I smile and high-five Amy.
Chapter Sixty-One
11 August 2018
Scarlett
Mum cooks us a full English. I suppose my birthday is a big deal for her, seeing her only child all grown up, hopefully moving out soon.
After breakfast, we help Mum unload the food delivery. She’s really gone to town with drinks and nibbles and different varieties of barbecue meats and salads. We make layered jellies to go with the tubs of ice cream and a massive fruit trifle. I think of my birthday parties over the years – the trouble Mum has always gone to making cakes in the shape of my favourite cartoon characters, decorating the house with balloons and bunting, all to make it as fun and special as possible. She’s always there for me, going way beyond my expectations. It makes me feel bad for pushing her so hard about who my dad is. Maybe there is a good reason for her not wanting me to know. Shouldn’t I respect that and drop it?
‘Why don’t you two go and decorate the garden while I clea
r up?’ Mum says once we’ve got the last layer of jelly in the fridge to set. ‘There’s a box of decorations under the stairs.’
Amy helps me pull the box out. Mum’s bought all sorts of new bunting, hanging pom poms, lanterns, Hawaiian garlands, blow-up flamingos and a massive flamingo piñata. She’s been collecting bits and pieces for a while. We carry it outside between us. Mum puts the radio on and turns it up when Queen sing, ‘These Are the Days of Our Lives’. I go into the kitchen to get some string and a pair of scissors. Mum’s standing by the radio, crying.
‘Are you okay?’ I put my head on her arm and she puts her arm around me, wiping her eyes with her fingers.
‘It reminds me of someone very special.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘I’ve never told you this, but I had a sister once.’
‘Oh.’ The photo we found pops up in my head.
‘She died before you were born.’ She stares ahead as though her eyes are fixed on a ghost. ‘It was so sudden, and she was far too young.’
‘I’m sorry, Mum.’
‘I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to her.’
I want to ask how she died, but what if she was hit by a car? Instead I hug her back.
‘I’m not sure I’ve ever got over it. It still hurts so much.’
‘What was her name?’
‘Jessica. We called her Jess. I wish she was here to celebrate with us, to see you.’ She wipes her eyes. ‘Anyway, I can’t go around blubbing all day, we’ve got to get this party started.’
Back out in the garden, Amy has laid out the plates, plastic cups and serviettes on one of Mum’s mosaic-topped tables.
‘You’ll never guess what?’ I whisper. ‘Mum’s just told me that she had a sister who died before I was born. Maybe that was her sister’s wedding in the photo.’
Amy wrinkles her nose. ‘That would explain why your mum hasn’t got that scar on her arm. And maybe your parents weren’t married – that’s why you can’t find a marriage certificate.’
‘And I think the woman in the photo who I thought might be my gran, was probably her sister.’
‘Do you think her sister was the woman your dad ran off with?’
‘Possible, isn’t it? Mum’s really sad she didn’t get to say goodbye to her.’ I take all the paper lanterns out of the box and pass some to Amy.
‘Perhaps your mum had an argument with her just before she died, and they didn’t have a chance to make up.’
I pin the paper handle of a lantern to a lime tree. ‘We’re back to square one.’
‘I think your dad could still be out there somewhere. We could find out more about your aunt, see if that gives us any clues.’
‘I’m beginning to believe my dad really was one of these boyfriends that turns up for a couple of days then disappears. Which means Mum may not even know who my dad is.’
Chapter Sixty-Two
11 August 2018
Scarlett
In the sizzling heat we hang bunting from the garage wall to the fence, then to the side gate, and bright pink and orange pom poms on wire hooks along the clothesline. Amy fetches the steps and ties the flamingo piñata from the cedar tree and winds garlands around the trunk. Mum brings out a huge plastic tub for bottles of wine, beers, cans of lager and Coke. Later we’ll fill it with ice. Mum has cleaned up the barbecue ready to go. By the time we’ve finished everything it’s gone midday.
‘Why don’t you two go up and start getting ready? Have a real pamper afternoon. I’ll straighten or curl your hair and paint your nails, how does that sound?’
‘Perfect. Thanks, Mum.’
After our showers, we sit in our underwear and let our hair dry naturally. The day seems to be getting hotter. In the distance we hear shouting and clapping. The local fair is in town. Amy checks Cole’s Facebook page. He’s posted a photo of himself with the baby.
‘Why doesn’t he post one of Gemma as well?’ I say, rubbing Factor 30 cream on my face and neck.
‘I was wondering that too. I was also thinking that when we take the baby, we could make it look like she was being neglectful. Say we found the pram unattended. He’d go mad at her.’
‘Won’t he go mad at me when he finds out I was the one going off with his baby?’
‘Not if we tell him his wife was nowhere to be seen. We just thought we were doing the right thing taking it with us.’
‘I prefer your first idea about persuading her to let us take the baby out in the pram. It’s him we’re trying to get at now, not her.’
Mum looks round the door. ‘You two ready to have your hair done?’
‘Yes please, do you want to do Amy’s first?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, you don’t need to go to any trouble for me.’ Amy tries to smooth down the frizziness.
‘No, come on, let Mum straighten it for you, she’s got some brilliant smoothing spray and the best tongs.’
‘I’ll go and get everything we need. Oh, actually, you may as well come into my bedroom. Everything’s already set up, it’ll be easier.’
Mum switches on the fan that sits on her dressing table and plugs in the straightening irons. Amy sits in front of the mirror first and Mum sprays her hair then sections it off. My eyes are drawn to the boxes on the wardrobe. I hold Amy’s eye in the mirror.
‘What’s in those boxes up there, Mum?’
She pauses and looks up as though she hasn’t seen them before. ‘Oh, just bits and pieces I’ve collected over the years. Memories, I suppose.’
‘What sort of memories?’
‘You know, things close to my heart, that mean a lot to me.’
‘Things to do with your sister?’ I stand up. I can just about see the lock on the second box.
‘Yeah, mostly.’
‘I’d love to see a photo of her.’
‘I’ll have to dig one out to show you.’ Mum pushes a window open wide.
‘Were you good friends?’
‘We were very close.’
‘Why does that box have a lock on it? Is it full of the stuff you don’t want to remember?’
Mum squeezes the irons on the next section of Amy’s hair. ‘Yes, there are some things in there I don’t want to look at.’
Bullseye. ‘Things to do with Dad?’
Mum bangs the irons down. ‘What is this?’
‘Sorry. You said you’d tell me something about him.’
‘And I said not today.’ She combs another section of Amy’s hair.
‘You do know who he is then?’ I deserve a clout for being so cheeky, but I can’t help myself.
Amy glares at me in the mirror, telling me to leave it. I always push too far.
‘I’m not even going to answer that,’ Mum says and continues in silence. A few minutes later she’s finished.
‘There we are, that’s you done. Do you like it?’
‘I love it, thank you. It’s never felt this soft before or been this straight.’ Amy smooths her hands down the shiny length of it.
We swap places. Mum plugs in the curling wand. None of us speak. Before long, my hair is transformed.
‘Amy, why don’t you go and get dressed?’ She gives her a little wink.
As soon as she’s gone, Mum opens a drawer of the dressing table and takes out a small gift box wrapped in glittery paper.
‘Happy birthday, darling.’ She kisses the top of my head. ‘I hope you like it.’
‘Thank you.’ I open the paper carefully. Inside is a jewellery box.
‘Go on, open it,’ she says, her face filled with angst. Maybe she thinks I won’t like it.
I pull back the lid and take out a ring with two diamonds set in a swirl of gold.
‘It’s so beautiful, Mum, thank you.’ I slip it on my ring finger and it fits perfectly.
Mum nods, pressing her lips, unable to speak. She reaches out for me and pulls me in for a tight hug. ‘I want you to enjoy your party, have the best night of your life. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll tell you about yo
ur dad, I promise. But today, please, just enjoy yourself.’
Chapter Sixty-Three
11 August 2018
Scarlett
Back in my bedroom, Amy is standing in front of my full-length mirror, adjusting her dark blue strappy dress.
‘My God, Amy, you look amazing.’
‘Do I?’ She sounds genuinely surprised.
‘Have you actually looked in the mirror?’ I laugh.
‘I haven’t got my glasses on.’
‘Why don’t you get contact lenses?’
She slips her glasses in place. ‘Does look okay, I suppose.’
‘You look more than okay, silly.’
‘What have you got there?’
‘Mum gave it to me for my birthday.’ I hold out my hand and Amy takes it, and inspects my ring.
‘Wow, it’s so sparkly.’
‘Isn’t it? I think they’re real diamonds. I wasn’t expecting anything like this. She’s promised we’re going to talk about my dad tomorrow, and she told me I should enjoy myself tonight. It feels more and more like the last supper.’
‘It’s not too late to say you’d rather not know.’
‘Whatever happened is part of my history, isn’t it? Once I know something about him – why they’re not together anymore, why he hasn’t stayed in touch – then I can deal with it, lock it away if necessary.’ I tap my head although I’m not sure I really believe it’s that simple.
I take my favourite emerald satin dress out of the wardrobe. It’s strappy like Amy’s but mine crosses at the back and has a low scoop. I slip on my favourite silver heels.
I’m spritzing on Daisy perfume when the doorbell rings. Mum hurries out of her bedroom and down the stairs in a red polka dot number.
‘Someone’s early.’ I lean over the bannister. It’s only 7.30. ‘Who is it?’
‘Someone I’d like you to meet,’ Mum says as we follow her downstairs.
She opens the door to a smartly dressed man in beige chinos and a light blue polo top. He’s holding a bottle of champagne with a ribbon around it. She hugs him and invites him in. He can’t drag his eyes off her.
The Face At the Window Page 21
