‘And if it’s not?’
‘I can’t stop, Tim. If I did, I’d become a part of it.’
‘No—’
‘She’s my daughter. How can I live with myself if I don’t carry on?’
THIRTY-SEVEN
2010
‘It’s a new initiative,’ said Becky. ‘We voted it in. The whole school. Ninety-seven per cent of us said “yes”. Come on, Mum, it’ll be fun.’
Kate secretly thought it would probably be one of the worst days of her life. The school had dreamed up ‘Family Woman Day’, where the mothers of the pupils got to go in with their children and take part in the school day.
‘Is Claire’s mum going?’
‘No.’
‘There we are then.’
‘But only because Claire’s mum is in Zurich for her work. If your mum’s not around, you’re allowed to bring someone else. Your aunt. Or grandmother.’
Of which Becky had neither. Kate was an only child and she hadn’t spoken to her mother for over fifteen years. Dervla would be turning sixty this month – still a relatively young woman. Kate hadn’t told Becky, but she’d sent her mother a birthday card and a photo of Becky, taken on her fifteenth birthday. Kate wasn’t expecting her mother to suddenly become a doting grandmother, first in the queue at events like this Family Woman Day, but such a lot of time had passed, she was quietly hopeful that they might re-establish contact.
Kate looked at her daughter’s pleading face. It would be cruel to say no. If she kept her head down on the day, maybe she’d get away with it.
‘OK.’
Becky beamed. ‘Thanks, Mum. And don’t worry about the quiz. We’ll be together for that bit.’ Then, knowing what her mum’s response would be, she pegged it out of the kitchen, grabbed her bag and, calling out a goodbye, slammed the front door shut.
Quiz? What quiz? Jesus, what had she just agreed to? A cold lump of dread started to make itself comfortable in Kate’s stomach.
Two weeks later, as Kate lay in bed after the alarm, she briefly considered feigning illness, before dismissing the thought. Becky was so excited about this Family Woman Day and the clue to survival was in the name: it was a single day. Even if it wasn’t much fun for her personally, she could get through it. There just wasn’t the time for it to get that bad. This practical thinking gave her a little boost and she ran down the stairs, stopping as she saw the post on the mat. She could hear Becky getting the breakfast ready in the kitchen, singing along to the radio.
Kate bent down to pick up the mail, her heart stalling as she saw a weather-beaten pink envelope tucked amongst the others. Her address, which she’d carefully written in the bottom right-hand corner, had been ringed and someone had scribbled ‘Return to sender’ next to it. She recognized the handwriting. It was her mother’s.
Kate turned the envelope over – it hadn’t even been opened. Even after all these years, it hurt.
‘Breakfast’s ready,’ said Becky, appearing in the kitchen doorway. ‘Hey, what’s up?’
‘Nothing,’ said Kate, brightly. She tucked the pink envelope back in amongst the others and walked past Becky into the kitchen.
So far, it hadn’t been too bad. In fact, Kate had even enjoyed the school assembly, listening to the headmistress talk about various pupils’ achievements, seeing their faces light up as they went to the front to collect their certificates for an inter-school sports match or Duke of Edinburgh scheme. And Becky had won something, too. Seeing her go up on stage to collect her prize for leading a politics debate made Kate glow with pride.
Assembly had been followed by time in the classrooms, something Kate had been dreading in case she was asked a question, but she needn’t have worried. The lessons had been deliberately designed to be inclusive and Kate had found herself taking part in a science experiment where Becky took the lead.
Kate was aware of Julia Cromwell, on the other side of the classroom, but she appeared to be engrossed in the same experiment with Violet and hadn’t even glanced her way. Lunch was surprisingly tasty, and Kate had struck up conversation with some of the other female relatives. Claire’s grandmother, Sue, was a retired nurse who was currently fitting in as many foreign trips a year with her also-retired husband as they could, while they still ‘had all their marbles’.
The quiz was scheduled for after lunch and as everyone filed into the main hall, there was a competitive buzz in the air. To Kate’s dismay, she found that she and Becky had been put on a table with Julia and Violet. Claire and Sue made up their team. Kate felt her earlier confidence evaporate as the questions started coming and Julia nominated herself as team captain and therefore the one who would write down all the answers. Julia also monopolized the debates over the answers and Kate grew quieter as the afternoon wore on. She could sense Julia growing more scornful, and was just wishing the whole thing could be over when Julia suddenly addressed her.
‘What do you think, Kate?’
Kate hadn’t even heard the question, in part because she’d tuned out a while ago, finding many of them too difficult to answer. She gave Julia a blank look.
‘Come on, keep up,’ said Julia. ‘Don’t let the side down.’ Her tone was light, but Kate had caught the disdainful glint in her eye and she flushed.
‘We’re on the general knowledge round. Means everyone gets a chance of getting something right, whatever their background,’ said Julia. Kate glanced up sharply, but Julia was smiling around the table. ‘So, to recap: who won the British Grand Prix earlier this year?’
‘Lewis Hamilton,’ said Kate.
‘Well done, Mum,’ said Becky.
‘Yes, thank God,’ said Sue. ‘I know nothing about sport.’
Neither do I, thought Kate, but she’d heard her boss Martin talk about it a couple of days ago at lunch. She looked across the table, but Julia wasn’t writing the answer down.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Julia. ‘Only, I thought it was Mark Webber.’
Was it? Kate stumbled in her thoughts. Come to think of it, Martin had mentioned him too. Or had he won the Monaco Grand Prix? Julia was looking at her expectantly.
‘Lewis Hamilton,’ said Kate, firmly. She was sure that was right.
‘Well, we know who to blame if we lose,’ said Julia airily as she wrote down the answer.
Kate bristled, her jaw set tight as doubt once again took hold. She looked across at the answer sheet, at Julia’s swirling handwriting, Lewis Hamilton’s name burning itself on her retinas. Maybe she should say something – she wasn’t sure after all – but then the answer sheets were being handed over to the neighbouring tables for marking.
The headmistress began to read out the answers, Julia giving a little nod of confirmation at each right answer they’d got, clocking up the points with a one hundred per cent success rate so far, until, finally, they were on the last question.
‘Question twenty,’ said the headmistress. ‘Who won the British Grand Prix earlier this year?’
Kate’s stomach churned. Oh God, please be Lewis Hamilton, she thought.
‘The answer is Mark Webber!’
Kate flushed.
‘Never mind,’ said Sue. ‘None of us were sure.’
But Kate didn’t hear her kind words. All she could feel were the waves of disdain emanating from Julia.
‘Seems like we’ll have to settle for second,’ said Julia as the roll call of winners was read out. Kate felt Becky give her hand a squeeze under the table, but she wouldn’t be comforted. She considered leaving at that point, but there was still one event left – the Year 11 charity auction. As much as she wanted to go home and put her pyjamas on and curl up in front of the TV, she wouldn’t give Julia the satisfaction of thinking she’d driven her away.
Kate gritted her teeth; she’d see out the last part of this Family Woman Day. She may not know the answer to a quiz question but there were two things she absolutely did know for sure. The first was that she wished she was a better mother for Becky, one she could be proud o
f. The second was that she hated Julia Cromwell.
THIRTY-EIGHT
2018
Kate stepped off the train, her bag weighing heavily on her shoulder, and she shifted it to stop it cutting into her skin. Her discomfort was intensified by the heat. It was a corker of a summer’s day and the air smelt green, of plants and their perfumes in the warmth of the sun. She passed the start of the public footpath with its thigh-high nettles, where countless bees hummed greedily, dipping in and out of a gnarled, woody buddleia. As she exited the station, Kate paused for a moment before going to Rob’s taxi ‘office’. He’d sent her a message, short and to the point, asking if he could see her and had refused to elaborate further until they were together.
He’d heard the train and stepped out, seeing her on the pavement. She waved and made her way over. Her eyebrows went up as she came closer – he had a purplish-black eye.
‘Thanks for coming,’ he said, gruffly.
‘No problem.’
She waited for him to suggest somewhere they could talk but he just stood there awkwardly.
‘Shall we go for a drink? Lemonade in The Wheatsheaf?’ suggested Kate.
Rob was embarrassed. ‘Um . . . maybe not there.’
‘Don’t tell me you got that –’ Kate pointed at his eye – ‘in the pub?’
‘Been barred for a week.’
‘Right.’ She looked behind him at the office. ‘You got anything cold in there?’
‘’Fraid not. There’s a vending machine on the platform though.’
He bought two chilled fizzy drinks from the machine and they sat on a bench facing the railway tracks, the heat warping off the gleaming metal. It was quiet: no cars, no people. The pop of the ring-pulls cut across the sounds of nature: birdsong, a hoverfly. They each took a welcome drink and Kate was beginning to wonder how long it might take for Rob to let her know why he’d asked to see her. She glanced across at him and he was staring into the middle distance.
He sensed her looking and turned his head. ‘There’s been a development,’ he said abruptly.
Kate was wary. ‘Oh, yes?’
‘Cancer’s come back.’
‘What? You mean . . . Abby?’
He nodded. ‘Different one, though. Brain cancer.’
It was a moment before she could speak. ‘I’m so sorry, Rob.’
‘She’s got to have an operation to cut it out. Because of the nature of the tumour, it has to be this special consultant. He’s in a hospital up in London.’
‘But he’ll see her, right?’
Rob nodded. ‘Surgery, then depending on how much he can get out, might be radiotherapy as well. We’re going to need to find a place right near the hospital. It’s gonna take a few weeks.’
‘When?’
‘In the next couple of months.’ He cleared his throat. ‘It’s gonna cost. Rent up in London, no wages for a few weeks. More than I’ve got.’ He paused. ‘I’ve had an offer of some cash.’
‘That’s good . . .?’ said Kate, questioningly.
‘Yes. I think so.’ Rob was defiant. ‘It’s from Justin Holmes.’
She tensed. ‘Why’s he offering you cash?’ she asked, although the answer was already forming in her head.
‘We had a bit of an argument, me and him.’ Rob pointed to his eye. ‘I kinda lost it, seeing him in the pub on Saturday night, drinking without a care in the world. And me, with Abby and Helen . . . I told him what I thought of him.’ He paused. ‘I told him we was – me and a few others – planning on suing his boss.’
She blinked. ‘You did what?’
He saw the look on her face. ‘You would’ve done, too, if you’d seen him sitting as smug as you like.’
‘No, I wouldn’t.’ Jesus, thought Kate, what had he said?
‘Anyway, next morning, he comes knocking with an offer. Enough to pay for all our expenses.’ He took a deep breath. ‘But it would mean I’d have to drop the case.’
Kate’s mouth dropped. Then, somewhere in the distance, a noise. The track started humming. The far-off sound of a train approaching, at speed. Oh my God, had Rob told Justin that she was the one behind this campaign? Is that why her house had been broken into, her private documents searched? Is that why she’d been sent an email threatening her life?
‘Rob?’
‘Yes?’
The train was getting louder.
‘Did you tell Justin how all this started? Did you tell him about Becky? About me, and how I offered to pull this case together?’
He looked at her impassively. Behind him, over his shoulder, she saw the train come hurtling around the corner, straight at the station. Rob opened his mouth, spoke, but she was buffeted by the thundering noise and the sucking wind of the train and heard nothing.
Then it passed. She saw he was irritated.
‘What do you take me for? I didn’t mention you. Or the others – not any names,’ he said tersely. ‘Just said there was a few of us in the village.’
Kate nodded. ‘If you need to pull out, Rob, I totally understand.’
‘But it’s not just me. It’s all of us or I get nothing.’
‘What? This is bribery.’
Rob spoke brusquely. ‘The way Justin was talking, there’s money for the others, too, but we all have to drop it. Every single one of us. Now. Or I don’t get anything.’
‘The bastard. Have you told any of the others? About your offer?’
He shifted on the bench. ‘A couple. Not all. Actually, I thought . . .’
‘What?’ Then it clicked. ‘You want me to do it?’
‘I just thought – they listen to you.’
Kate exhaled. ‘I can’t do that, Rob, you know I can’t.’
‘I told you: he’ll give them money too.’
‘Maybe it’s not about the money, Rob.’ And then she felt awful. She’d spoken without thinking. ‘Sorry. I know this is important. For Abby.’
‘Way I see it, it’s been over a month since you said you was gonna do this. I’ve gone along with your plan long enough.’
Kate shook her head. ‘Oh, Rob . . . it’s going to take longer than that,’ she said, her voice catching.
‘So, what are you waiting for?’
‘It’s the owner of the farm. The anonymous director. I still need to find out who he or she is.’
‘And how long’s that gonna take?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, weeks? Months?’
‘I’m sorry, Rob.’
‘Cos we haven’t got months, if you know what I’m saying.’
‘Can’t you get the money from somewhere else? Friends? The bank?’
‘Bank and me don’t exactly see eye to eye at the moment. Bit of a falling-out over the mortgage payments. I guess that’s why the credit-card applications failed.’
They both sat in silence.
‘Rob, can I ask you something?’
He nodded.
‘Have you accepted?’
‘That’s not the point. He needs to know we’re all backing off. Not just me. Or I get nothing.’
Kate thought for a moment – something wasn’t quite right.
‘What was Justin like? When you told him about the plan to sue his boss?’
‘Like you’d expect. Not happy.’
‘Yes, but was he worried? Anxious? Panicky?’
‘Well, I don’t know. He was quite insistent about it being dropped. Made sure I understood fully what the deal was.’
Kate nodded.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Do you mind telling me how much he offered?’
‘Ten.’
‘Ten? Ten what? Grand?’ Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.
Rob flashed her a look. ‘It’s a lot of money.’
‘I know, it is. But is it enough? What if Abby needs further treatment? What about Helen? My estimate for her home-care help was eleven thousand a year, remember? And that was very conservative.’
‘But you ain’t got nothing yet.’
‘Rob, you may not realize this but that farm will have insurance – public liability insurance. If we win against them, the insurance company will pay out much of the claim.’
‘So?’
‘Well, don’t you wonder why he’s so desperate to shut this down?’
Rob shrugged. ‘Dunno. Save his boss the headache?’
‘You reckon? I think there’s more to this. Why’s his boss got him doing the dirty work for a start. He’s just the farm manager. Maybe he knows something about those chemicals being sprayed on those fields. Something his boss wants to keep very quiet. And if we all go away, there’s a good chance it will be kept quiet.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘See, that’s the problem, Kate. You’ve got good intentions, I’ll give you that, but at the moment, it seems like it’s just wishful thinking—’
‘It’s more than that,’ she jumped in.
‘Remind me again, how close are you to taking this to a court?’
She didn’t answer.
‘See.’ He took another sip of his drink. ‘Some of the others have already agreed.’
‘Who?’
‘Ian.’
‘Who else?’
He set his lips hard.
‘Have some refused?’
His eyes blazed, refusing to admit defeat. ‘They’d change their minds if you told them to.’
‘Oh, Rob, I don’t think they would. Some of them maybe, but some just want to know the truth. They want the truth out there. And they want justice.’ She sighed. ‘Look, there’s only one way to resolve this. We need everyone to take a vote. If you want to back out, then I wish you the best.’
‘He won’t pay me unless we all back out.’
‘Well, let’s see what the rest want to do.’
‘You’re going to persuade them to stay in.’
‘What kind of person do you take me for? I’m just going to lay out the facts, Rob. Everyone has to make their own decision.’
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