The Daughter

by Michelle Frances

  It was gone before she could point it out and she looked up to see Iris lost in her own happiness.

  ‘I might swim,’ Kate suddenly announced.

  ‘Go for it, love,’ said Iris.

  Kate stripped to her swimsuit and dived into the warm water. She looked down, feeling giddy at its clarity. She could see several metres below her, her feet suspended in a clear blue light. She swam away from the boat, rolling over in the water. An unidentified shoal of silvery fish swam alongside her and then, with a synchronized sharp turn, passed her.

  What an incredible place this was. Surely somewhere like this could throw up a pearl. Surfacing, she looked back towards the boat, its yellow paint glistening in the sun. It was within the capability of the man just a few metres away to tell her a name. Just a single name that would allow her to do something good. Do what was right.

  Tantalizingly close.

  ‘Oh my giddy aunt!’ exclaimed Iris and Errol jumped up to help as she had a bite on her line.

  Kate swam back as Iris and Errol reeled in the fish. A silver kingfish, its iridescent skin reflecting pinks and blues. It gulped as Iris, eyes agog, held it.

  ‘Wow,’ said Kate, finding the little ladder Errol had thoughtfully put on the side of the boat for her and climbing up.

  ‘Lunch?’ said Errol, indicating the fish.

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ said Iris. ‘I mean, I know I eat them and it’s hypocritical, but can’t we just let him go?’

  Errol laughed, and Iris gently let the fish back over the side. They watched as it swam away, undeterred by its brush with death.

  ‘Now that Iris has given our lunch back to the sea,’ said Errol, with a twinkle, ‘I’d better take you to Elvis’s.’

  He lifted the anchor and they headed back to the island.

  Lunch was a not-so-lucky fish and salad, beneath a palm-leaf umbrella by the beach. The conversation remained in light, neutral territory and Kate wondered how best to raise the topic of Foxgold without sabotaging her chances – or the afternoon. The decision was made for her, when Iris went to the bathroom.

  ‘Iris has told me everything,’ said Errol, breaking the heavy silence. ‘The whole story. You are an incredible woman.’

  ‘Thank you but I don’t need flattery, just a little help.’

  ‘I wish I could.’

  ‘You can. You just choose not to.’

  ‘I could go to jail.’

  They saw Iris heading back from the ladies’ and stopped talking. Iris looked from one to the other.

  ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Iris. I am unable to help in the way you really want,’ said Errol. ‘Maybe there will be another way.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Kate. Try as she might, she was unable to keep the scepticism out of her voice.

  ‘This island, it is a special place. Sometimes I feel it can perform miracles.’

  Yeah, great, thought Kate, and knew it was pointless pressing him any further.

  Later, Errol drove them back to the hotel. Kate got out the car and waited for Errol to help Iris. He and Iris spoke privately before he drove off with a wave.

  ‘What was that about?’ murmured Kate as they watched him disappear out of the hotel grounds.

  ‘He was wondering if I might be able to meet for dinner again one night,’ said Iris. ‘Before we go home.’

  Iris was looking at her hopefully. Kate smiled. ‘You don’t need my permission.’

  ‘No . . . but we’re here together. And for a particular reason, that Errol is unable to help with. I feel . . . traitorous.’

  ‘Don’t,’ said Kate quickly. ‘Don’t feel that.’

  ‘Sometimes I’m quite angry with him . . . But I do so enjoy his company. It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a man’s company so much.’

  Kate smiled. ‘I do believe this is what they call a holiday romance.’

  Iris blushed. ‘Don’t be daft.’

  Iris met with Errol not once but twice more before they went home, and on the last time tried again, but Errol just repeated his sorrow at not being able to help.

  She and Kate packed their bags and Magic took them to the airport. On the plane, Iris put her hand over Kate’s. ‘You did your best, love. More than your best.’

  Maybe, thought Kate, but it hadn’t been good enough. I’m sorry, Becky.

  Both women were quiet on the flight back to London. The taxi took Iris home first. Kate saw her inside and helped her unpack.

  ‘Kate, I can’t thank you enough. You’ve made an old woman very happy.’

  ‘I’m just glad you came. Are you going to stay in touch with Errol?’

  Iris didn’t answer immediately, then shook her head. ‘No. It was wonderful meeting him and, in another time, a younger time, things might have worked out differently. But he’s so far away . . . and a little part of me can’t quite forgive him. For not helping.’

  Kate put Iris’s empty suitcase back on top of the wardrobe. ‘There. Till the next one, eh?’

  ‘Thanks, love. Are you getting a cab home?’

  ‘I’ll get the bus.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Kate nodded. The five-star lifestyle was over. ‘Back to reality for me now.’

  As Kate approached her house, she felt herself growing wary. She took a moment before getting out her keys, checked the door for signs of entry. Then she let herself in and closed the door behind her. The air smelt stale, the light was fading, and the emptiness filled every room, every corner. She went from room to room looking for signs of intrusion, not getting any sense of comfort when she found none. For the first time since she’d moved in, it didn’t feel like home.

  She began to unpack. As she filed away her passport in the drawer, she came across a letter she’d stashed there. She took it out, opened it up. It had been sent to her soon after Becky had died, from her boss, Terence, at the newspaper. Her eyes fell on some of the words:

  We were about to offer her a full reporter’s position. I’m telling you this not to lament what could have been but to add to your raft of her achievements to be proud of.

  A life unlived. Kate slowly replaced the letter. You would have done it, Becky. You would have solved all this by now. Got justice for Arnie and the rest. She’d had so much going for her, her daughter. More than she, Kate, ever had. ‘I’ve let you down again,’ she said out loud to the empty room.

  A dark cloud started to settle over her and, afraid of where it would take her, Kate set about tidying the house. Threw out the mouldy food in the fridge, recycled the piles of shouty junk mail. Put on a wash. Tasks completed, she sat at the table. There was nothing to do.

  It was over.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  2016

  ‘We’re on “E”!’ whispered Iris excitedly as she leaned into Kate, squeezing her arm. They were in a packed Royal Festival Hall, every one of the two thousand nine hundred seats taken by family and friends of University College London graduates. The graduates themselves were filling the large wooden stage, backdropped by the humungous organ, in a highly orchestrated manoeuvre that saw each of them get up to receive their certificate in turn. After ‘East’ and ‘El-Kati’, it was time.

  ‘Miss Becky Ellis, journalism, first-class honours,’ said the official and Kate watched as her clever, beautiful daughter walked across the stage in her academic robe with its black-and-red hood, and collected her certificate.

  Then Becky turned, and her eyes flickered up to the huge audience. Kate knew she had a sense of where she and Iris were sitting but it would be almost impossible for her to pick them out in such a large sea of faces.

  But then – yes! – she’d seen them and managed a quick wave before being directed along to allow for the next graduate.

  Kate began to well up, overwhelmed with pride and love. Her little girl was all grown up. She turned to Iris and, seeing tears streaming down her face, the two of them laughed at each other and Iris pulled a packet of tissues out of her han
dbag. Noses blown, they each sighed and fixed their gazes back on Becky, drinking her in.

  This is her time, her moment, thought Kate. Becky was about to be launched into the world. This was what she, Kate, had dreamed of for her when she’d been born in that hospital twenty-one years ago. Despite Kate’s numerous cock-ups and inadequacies, her daughter had managed to make something of herself. Becky had heard only the previous week that she’d been offered a prestigious place at a respected national paper, the Herald, on one of their graduate traineeships, and would be starting at the end of the month. Everything lay ahead of her. Her whole life. She was right at the beginning. About to start a career in the field she’d wanted to work in since she was a child. So much to look forward to. So much to experience.

  Kate couldn’t help reflecting on what she’d been doing the summer she was twenty-one. She’d had a six-year-old – that same wonderful girl on the stage right now – and they’d taken their first holiday together, in a mobile home in Devon. God, it felt like a long time ago. She briefly wondered what her life might have been like if she’d stood on a stage like Becky, collecting a degree. Her parents looking on proudly from the audience. What might she have studied? What could she have achieved?

  Then they were all throwing their hats into the air and the whole auditorium was clapping and cheering. Kate stood with the rest, helping Iris to her feet. She tidied the past away and was filled with joy. Her daughter was so fiery, so passionate about what she wanted to do, Becky would likely achieve enough for the both of them.

  The celebrations continued out on the roof terrace. The views were breathtaking. From the grassy lawn, Kate could see the London Eye rising above Iris’s shoulder with its graceful slow turns, the pods dropping below the edge of the roof wall and then eventually rising up again, continuous and reliable. The grey-green river flowed and glistened in the sunlight, a myriad of boats passing through. Around them were the voices of the young, the air ringing with opportunity and optimism. Gowns were open in the warmth or had been discarded, and the new graduates, drinking from plastic glasses, spilled onto the grass and around the edges of the planters filled with deep yellow sunflowers and scarlet geraniums.

  She saw Becky and her best friend from the course, Maria, head over to them, clutching cups of Pimm’s and lemonade. They were deep in conversation about something. Becky was shaking her head, shamefaced.

  ‘What are you two up to?’ asked Kate, as they approached, handing out the cold, minty drinks.

  ‘Becky has been managing unwanted amorous attention,’ said Maria.

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘Oh, don’t, I feel bad,’ said Becky.

  ‘What do I say if he gets in touch, checks the number with me?’ teased Maria.

  ‘You can’t give it to him,’ pleaded Becky. ‘Promise?’

  Maria laughed and promised, then went off to find her own family, wishing them all a good summer and congratulating Becky again on her job. Maria herself was going to take up a journalism fellowship at Harvard.

  Iris lifted her sunglasses and raised her plastic cup of Pimm’s.

  ‘To Becky,’ she said proudly. ‘You are going to make a fine journalist. Wily, smart, tenacious. And I should know, you would always find out where I’d hidden the chocolate biscuits.’

  Kate smiled. ‘To Becky,’ she said and hugged her daughter tightly.

  ‘And to Kate,’ added Iris. ‘A truly wonderful mother who made all this happen.’

  Kate pulled a face. ‘Don’t be daft. I did nothing.’

  ‘Not true,’ said Iris. ‘Not true at all.’

  FIFTY-NINE

  2018

  Her phone was ringing. Dragging her up through sleep. She glanced at the screen through squinting eyes but didn’t recognize the number.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is that Kate?’ said a male voice. Despite her sluggishness, Kate still registered – what was it? – tension in his tone.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s Adam, Adam Langley. Becky’s friend. We met at the Agrochemical Britain conference.’

  Adam! Kate sat up quickly, tried to reorder her brain. ‘Yes, yes . . .’

  ‘I need to see you. After work. Today.’

  ‘OK. Sure. Where?’

  ‘Bushy Park. South side of Heron pond. Six thirty.’

  She scrabbled around on the bedside table for a pen and scrap of paper. Wrote it down. ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘Don’t tell anyone you’re coming.’

  ‘OK . . .’

  ‘I mean it.’

  ‘I won’t. I promise.’

  He waited a moment and she sensed him evaluating her trustworthiness, then he just said: ‘Please don’t be late,’ and hung up.

  She looked at the clock. It was seven thirty. She had to get to work.

  The day dragged, as they all had since she’d returned from Anguilla a week ago. She felt Martin watching her, checking her attitude matched the company one – ‘Here to help!’ – and it took all of her effort not to walk out of the door. Her mind went round and round wondering why Adam wanted to see her. The last time she’d spoken to him he couldn’t get away from her fast enough and had instructed his girlfriend, what was her name, Trixie, to drive off at speed.

  As soon as her shift was over, she took the train to Hampton Court and then walked past the palace into Bushy Park. She made it to Heron pond at six twenty-three and looked around for Adam but couldn’t see him. It wasn’t that busy, just a few commuters walking home and some teenagers practising wheelies on their bikes. A few deer wandered about, noses to the ground as they grazed or stared nonchalantly at their fellow human park-dwellers.

  ‘Keep your distance,’ said a low voice from behind and Kate saw Adam pass her and head away from the pond towards the Oval plantation. She did as she was bid, walking in the same direction but staying back twenty metres or so, allowing herself one hesitant check over her shoulder to see if anyone was following them, but saw nothing.

  Once he disappeared into the trees, she thought she’d lost him. She stepped through the crackly undergrowth, the fallen crisp leaves dusting the floor, feeling caught in a maze of tree trunks.

  ‘I don’t think anyone saw us,’ said Adam from behind her.

  She jumped. ‘Adam.’

  ‘We should talk quickly,’ he said.

  She nodded. She was alarmed by the way he looked. He’d changed since she’d seen him outside his office in the rain. It wasn’t anything physical, nothing simple she could put her finger on, but there was something about his demeanour. He was nervous, tense.

  ‘When Becky and I were seeing each other, I worked in the R&D department of Senerix. You understand what that means, right?’

  ‘Yes, you were developing new products. Researching.’

  ‘I remember when she first got in touch. I couldn’t believe it. I’d liked her since university.’ He paused, embarrassed. ‘I’d keep all her texts, even the practical ones arranging times to meet, just to remind myself – me, geeky Adam – I was seeing Becky.’

  Kate smiled.

  ‘I was so fucking stupid.’ He wrestled with something. ‘I used to call her on my work phone. Something went wrong with it, can’t remember what, now. IT took a look. I never got it back. Thought it odd at the time.’

  Kate didn’t follow.

  ‘The messages from Becky were still on there,’ said Adam.

  Oh. ‘Was there anything incriminating in them?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Her name was there. The fact she was a journalist. Then I got the sense I was being watched. Small things. I could’ve sworn a few of my emails were read before I opened them. The new phone they gave me – I believed it was bugged. I also believed they tracked my movements.’

  He took a breath. ‘At the end of February last year, I was offered a new job. In a different department. Genomics. You know, genetic engineering? Seeds and so on. They painted it as a promotion of sorts but . . .’

  ‘You think they were deliberately mov
ing you out of R&D?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And do you think that’s because you knew something that they didn’t want you to tell anyone? To tell Becky?’

  It took a moment before he could answer. ‘Yes.’

  Kate swallowed. ‘Can you tell me what that thing is?’

  ‘Not here.’

  ‘But it’s something about the use of herbicides? Near people?’

  He nodded.

  ‘A report? That you’ve read? About Crixus?’

  He nodded again. ‘A memo. I stumbled across it at the beginning of last year. I was in the middle of a research assignment and it suddenly appeared in amongst the files I was working on. Naturally, I read it. It disturbed me. It was clear the company knew stuff about their products that they were keeping secret. I couldn’t forget about it so a couple of days later I raised it with my boss. He spun me some story about how it was still a work in progress, nothing conclusive – the company was changing formulas. I was reminded of how my work was confidential. When I got back to my desk, the document had disappeared from the server.’

  She felt her breath quicken. Think, think.

  ‘But this is something you read almost two years ago, right? Does it even still exist?’

  ‘They may have destroyed it. I’ve certainly never seen it again. If it does still exist, only a select few would have access.’

  Kate’s excitement evaporated into the air. ‘So, it would be your word against a multi-million-pound company. It’s never going to stand up.’

  ‘But, you see, I made a copy.’

  She froze. ‘You what?’

  ‘Not electronic. I was afraid they’d know. Be able to trace the email if I sent it to my personal account. So, I just printed it. Before I went to see my boss. Then I smuggled it out in my coat pocket.’

  ‘And where is this printout?’ asked Kate, her heart in her mouth.

  ‘Well, it was at home. In the cushions of my sofa.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  He reached into his coat, pulled out a brown envelope. ‘I want to give it to you.’ His eyes were pained. ‘I feel responsible. For letting them know about Becky.’