by Mary Grand
‘This is the photo I showed you before. I carry it with me all the time. I never wanted to forget you.’ She saw Bethan blink back tears. ‘You see, it wasn’t that I didn’t care. I just couldn’t keep you.’
‘What was I like? You know, when I was born?’
‘You were tiny. A few weeks early, but you had black hair and very intense eyes, like you knew exactly what was going on. Your hands were tiny and in fists. You looked quite angry sometimes, but you were lovely. All the nurses used to say what a beautiful baby you were.’
‘So, it was hard giving me away?’
‘Of course. I can honestly say it was the worst day of my life.’
‘You never wrote, never even sent me a card?’
‘I thought it was best for you, for both of us to have a fresh start.’
‘If I’d known you were alive, I could have contacted you. We could have been seeing each other.’
Elizabeth bit her lip. She liked to think she would be as honest as she could.
‘Look, I’m very independent. I haven’t married, or had kids, because I’m not that sort.’
‘So you haven’t missed me?’
‘Sometimes, but I’ve tried not to dwell on it. I have a great life; travelling, no ties. It suits me. I know it sounds selfish, but it’s the way I am.’
‘I wondered about you a lot. Now you hear them talk about genetic diseases you can inherit, like that breast cancer gene. Well, I just didn’t know.’
‘Oh God, I never thought of that.’
‘I did.’
‘Well, my mother didn’t have cancer. I have never had any tests or anything, and all my routine check-ups are fine.’
‘That’s quite a relief, actually. It’s a shame you can’t tell me anything about why I was born Deaf, but I’m still pleased your mother was Deaf. I’d have liked to have met her.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Elizabeth looked down, and felt another pang of guilt about her mother. She had only thought about how important it was for her parents not to know about Bethan. She had never thought about how her child would feel about them, or even that they would have been grandparents. It was a shock to be made to think about it now.
Bethan looked back at Elizabeth. ‘I’m glad we’ve found each other, aren’t you? We can have lots of times like this. I’ve put my choices down for uni but, I was thinking, I could try and go through clearing for a London university. I could live here with you. It would be really cool, and Mum wouldn’t worry so much if she knew I was living somewhere safe.’
Elizabeth panicked. ‘No. I mean, I don’t think that would be a good idea. I’m very busy. I work long hours. You need to share with other students, people your own age.’
She glanced at Bethan who, to her horror, had tears in her eyes.
‘You don’t want me to live with you, then?’
‘It’s not personal. I told you: I’m very independent.’
Bethan scowled. ‘My Mum would do anything to keep me living back home with her.’
‘But you wouldn’t want to be with older people. You need to get out and find your own friends.’
‘Mum wants me to stay living at home for my first year.’
‘What about this audition?’
‘I don’t know. I’m really torn. It would be a long way to go. Mum doesn’t want me to go, but it’s a chance in a million. All my friends are so jealous, and it means a lot to Grandad.’
‘And what do you want to do?’
Bethan shrugged. ‘I don’t know. If I came here, I wouldn’t have to choose.’
‘I don’t think that would work. Let’s just take things slowly.’
They both sat in an uneasy silence.
‘It’s a bit late for a DVD, I think I could do with going to bed,’ Elizabeth said.
Bethan nodded. Elizabeth could see that she was upset, but couldn’t think what to say.
‘Can I have a glass of water to take up?’ asked Bethan.
‘Of course,’ Elizabeth replied, then realised that Bethan was waiting for her to get it.
‘Oh, right. Hang on.’ She got the drink, and added, ‘In the morning, if you wake early, come down and get drinks and things. There are cereals in the cupboard, milk in the fridge. I’ll probably get up about half seven.’
Bethan went to her room, Elizabeth to hers. As she meticulously removed her make-up, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. This was all becoming very complicated. Bethan was such a strange mixture: one minute she seemed like a young woman. And then, something would be said or happen, and she regressed into a vulnerable young child. It was confusing, and quite exhausting. She would have to watch things with her. It was just tomorrow. They would shop. Yes, she would buy her lots of really good quality presents, go to the concert, and then back to the Gower in the evening. That way there would be no complications. Yes, it should all be fine.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Catrin sat alone in the house in Cardiff. There were so many things she could do while she waited: gardening, ironing; there was always something. However, somehow, she didn’t feel she could do anything. It didn’t even really feel like her home. When she became hungry she found herself biscuits, cheese and a Mars bar. She put the television on just for some background noise, then phoned Lowri. Catrin told her not to worry, but said that she would be staying the night in Cardiff.
‘Is Dad alright?’
‘I haven’t caught up with him yet, but I’m sure he’s fine. Now, there’s plenty of food up there. Make sure everybody eats. I’ll send David and Anwen a text to hold on to Safi. I think Anwen might rather like that.’
Catrin sent a text message to David and another to Bethan. After this, she sat and stared at the television. The evening dragged on. It was still light. Sometimes she found summer evenings unnerving: they went on so long, when she wanted to close the curtains and settle down. She glanced at the time: only eight o’clock, but it felt so much later. Catrin was watching a programme about embarrassing health problems, wondering what on earth possessed anyone to appear on it, when she heard Gareth’s car on the driveway. Her heart raced. It was stupid, but she felt nervous. Catrin went to the front door to let him in. He looked shocked to see her.
‘What are you doing here? What’s happened?’
‘Where have you been? I’ve been desperately trying to track you down.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘I came because of your message.’
‘What message?’
‘The one that said to come urgently, that we needed to talk.’
‘I never sent that.’
‘You did. You phoned last night as well.’
‘Oh, that. I was simply checking you were OK. You’d sounded upset, but then your Dad said you’d gone out–’
‘It was nothing. Just a meal with Harri.’
‘Yes, he said. So I figured that you must be alright if you’d gone out.’
‘You didn’t mind me going out with Harri?’
Gareth looked puzzled. ‘Of course not.’
‘But you did send the text.’ Catrin found her phone to show him and herself that she hadn’t been imagining things. Gareth read the message and shook his head. ‘I didn’t send that. I don’t understand.’ He looked again at the message. ‘When was it sent?’
‘Half six this morning.’
‘Oh, yes. Ah, I see. Oh, no.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ he said, quickly.
Gareth sat down opposite Catrin.
‘Tell me, how are things back at the Gower?’
‘Lowri told me this morning about taking a year out–’
‘Oh yes, good idea,’ he said dismissively. ‘So how is Bethan?’
‘It’s been really hard. I wish you’d been there. I’ve kept trying to phone you, and you haven’t answered.’
‘I’m sorry. I have to turn my phone off or I’d get nothing done.’
‘I’ve had to make all the decisions. Now Bethan has gone to
London with Elizabeth.’
‘What? To live?’
‘No, of course not.’ Catrin frowned with irritation. ‘Just to do some shopping, and go to a concert. She’s staying up in Elizabeth’s house for one night, then coming back tomorrow night.’
‘Are you sure that was the right thing to do?’
‘I don’t know, but I had to make the decision on my own.’
‘Is Bethan alright?’
‘So far. But you know Bethan: it could all go wrong very quickly. To be honest, I didn’t want her to go, but I felt I had to let her. Elizabeth is spending all this money on her. It’s embarrassing. Bethan, of course, loves it all.’
‘She shouldn’t do that.’
‘No, but I can’t stop it, can I? Bethan thinks it’s great. This woman can do no wrong.’
‘You sound jealous.’
‘Well, maybe I am a bit. I mean, it’s been really hard sometimes with Bethan, yet Elizabeth gets to waltz into her life and take over.’
‘I don’t think Bethan is like that. She loves you, us.’
‘Don’t you mind?’
Gareth looked like he really was thinking about this for the first time. ‘No, I don’t. Of course, it’s different for me. It’s good for Bethan to meet her birth mother. It’ll be alright.’
‘But I don’t know if I should have let her go to London. Elizabeth had these tickets for some concert. Bethan was so excited. I didn’t know how to stop her. It just felt mean. Dad wasn’t happy, but I said it was my decision.’
‘Well done,’ he said. ‘You need to do that more often. Like on Sunday with that nonsense about America. You should have supported me over that, you know.’
‘I was confused. I didn’t know what to think. You walking out didn’t help, though. You should have stayed and talked to Bethan. She still has this audition on Friday, you know. Then you didn’t come to the memorial. That was really tough.’
‘Again, I’m sorry. God knows, I’m all over the place at the moment. Actually, I was wound up about something from earlier that evening.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Something I found in your handbag.’
‘What was that, then?’
‘I found a packet of cigarettes.’
Catrin panicked. ‘They’re not mine.’
‘Whose are they, then?’
‘Um, Mark, Lowri’s boyfriend’s.’
‘Now, that’s odd. He said he was glad it wasn’t too smoky in the pub. It set off his asthma, he said.’
‘Oh, well, He really shouldn’t smoke then, should he?’
‘It wasn’t you?’
‘Of course not.’
Gareth reached down and picked up her handbag. Catrin watched, frozen, as he opened it and took out a packet of cigarettes. ‘You never gave them back?’
‘For God’s sake, Gareth. What is this?’
‘Why are you lying to me?’
‘Oh, OK. They’re mine. But they don’t mean anything.’
‘Firstly, you know it’s a damn stupid thing to do–’
‘It’s only one or two–’
‘That doesn’t matter. You know how I feel about smoking, and drinking.’
‘Look, it was just something to do. Going down there has stirred up all these memories, you know, about Mum and Aled.’ Catrin looked away.
‘What memories, Catrin?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What is it about your mother?’ he asked, leaping on the words.
‘Well, you know–’
‘No, I don’t do I? I’m a doctor, for goodness sake. I have a sense when people are hiding things. What are you hiding about your mother, and Aled, for that matter? I mean, nothing about the night he died adds up. You know that. I would have gone and looked it all up, found out about the inquest, but you said not to. I hoped you would tell me.’
‘I don’t know about Aled. Really, I don’t.’
‘I don’t know what you know about him, but your mother. What are you hiding about her? You would slip around to your mother’s when I got back from work, no explanation.’
‘You really want to know about my mother?’
He nodded.
Catrin suddenly felt calm. She could remember David’s words. It was time to talk. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Gareth would understand.
‘Well, I’ll tell you. My mother was an alcoholic.’
Gareth sat back. His eyes wide. ‘She was what?’
‘My mother was an alcoholic.’
Catrin saw him glance over at the photograph of his friend who’d died. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because I didn’t want you to despise my mother, to despise me.’
‘I despise alcohol. You know that–’
‘Exactly. And I lived with an alcoholic most of my life, while I was growing up.’
‘All your life? I thought you were telling me your mother started drinking after Aled. I knew she was devastated. I did wonder what was going on.’
‘It was way before that. When you and I met she was in a good patch. She really wanted to be well. She’d just come out of rehab. Not a spa holiday, like I told you. She said she wanted to be a good grandmother. I think she might have made it if hadn’t been for Aled.’
‘So she’d been drinking when you were a child?’
‘In my teens.’
‘You never told me. You should have–’
Catrin suddenly felt very angry.
‘This isn’t about you, Gareth. I’m trying to tell you about me, what happened to me.’
‘I know, but I need time to adjust. Don’t you see all the lies you told me about your childhood, your mother? You painted a whole picture of her that wasn’t true.’
‘But she was all the things I told you–’
‘Is that why you never went to college?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you said you didn’t want to go.’
‘I know but–’
‘Don’t you see? Over the years, hundreds of little lies?’
Catrin glared at him. ‘I’m not the only one who lies in this marriage, though, am I?’
Gareth frowned.
‘Who texted me at half six this morning? Who have you been drinking wine with? Eating take away with? Was it Carol? Carol, who, unlike me, apparently, always knows what you are doing, where you are?’
‘What are you insinuating? Me and Carol? For God’s sake, that’s ridiculous.’
‘But it’s not. You’re never home, never want to be with me, never talk to me, didn’t notice my new dress or even give me a birthday card. I came in to find two plates, two wine glasses, in the kitchen–’
‘This is crazy. How can you be so stupid?’
Catrin glared at him. ‘That’s what you think, is it? Stupid Catrin, who never even got any A levels, who works in kitchens?’
‘I never said that.’
‘You don’t need to.’
‘Catrin, have you been drinking?’
‘Don’t you dare accuse me of that,’ Catrin screamed.
Gareth stood up, but then grimaced. He started to breathe heavily, and seemed to stagger back.
Catrin was alarmed. She stared at him.
Gareth seemed to get his breath back. He spoke quietly. ‘I can’t do this now. I’m sorry. I have to go back to work.’
‘What? At this time? You don’t want to talk now?’
He shook his head.
‘Work will always come before me, won’t it?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Fine. Well, go then.’
Gareth didn’t respond. He walked slowly out of the room. Catrin heard the front door close behind him and his car driven away. She looked out of the window. The close was silent. She could see televisions flickering in sitting rooms, windows, open, trying to cool their houses for the hot night ahead. There was no breeze, no distant sounds of the sea. She missed them. It was just dusk back at Gower: the sky would be preparing for another spectacular sunset. Here it
was bleak and lonely. Is this how the future would be? Lowri off with Mark; Bethan in New York; Gareth off with some woman, and her alone here.
Catrin looked over at a wedding photograph of herself and Gareth. She was looking nervously happy, he far more assured. She had an expression of someone who couldn’t believe this was happening. Sometimes she felt that she had never really lost that feeling. Like her mother, she had often wondered if her husband would leave her. Was that about to happen? Had telling him about her mother been the final straw?
She sat down, exhausted. She was tired of worrying about everything: if only there was a way to make it all go away. Slowly, she got up and went into the kitchen. She knew that, hidden behind the bags of flour and mixed fruit, there was a bottle of vodka. It had been there since Lowri had brought it home a few years ago to use in a chocolate cake recipe. She had managed to talk Lowri out off making the cake until it had been forgotten. She had hidden the bottle at the back of the cupboard. Catrin carried the bottle to the living room and unscrewed the lid. The smell transported her straight back to her mother. The smell on her breath, memories of finding half-empty bottles hidden in cupboards, the laundry basket, behind books: all over the house. Catrin would find them and pour the contents down the sink, knowing it was hopeless. She found a glass and poured the clear liquid into it. She had never drunk vodka before. Her hand shook as she lifted the glass to her mouth. The liquid burnt her lips, made her heave, but she forced it down. She had finished that glass, and poured another. There was no pleasure in it, but she could slowly feel it seeping through her body. It was like going numb. Slowly, nothing mattered. This must have been the sunshine coming out for her mother, when she would smile as if all was right with the world. Then she would have another, and another. Often, then there would be tears. ‘Never leave me,’ she would say. ‘I couldn’t bear you to go.’ And finally she would collapse.
Catrin lit a cigarette, poured some more vodka into the glass, and got up to put the television back on. As she did, she glanced over at the mirror hanging over the fireplace. What she saw staggered her. In the mirror, she didn’t see herself: what she saw was her mother staring back at her.