by Jess Ryder
The house was still standing, semi-detached, white with criss-cross timbers, nestled at the end of a quiet, leafy cul-de-sac. There was a large car parked on the drive, and a first-floor window was slightly open, which made her think somebody was in.
‘Okay, here goes,’ said Amy. She rang the bell and it played a little tune. They waited, ears straining for signs of life on the other side of the door. But nobody came.
‘Maybe they know who I am and don’t want to see me,’ Jade said.
‘Like how?’ Amy tutted. She pressed the button again and it played a different tune this time.
‘Maybe they think we’re Jehovah’s Witnesses.’ Jade cupped her hand over her eyes and peered through the front window. ‘Anyway, this doesn’t look like an old person’s place. There’s a white sofa and a huge flat-screen telly.’
Amy decided to knock on the neighbours’ doors instead. ‘We’ve come all this way, we’re not going back empty-handed,’ she said. Jade wondered what she meant by that. Were they going to bring back some kind of souvenir? A handful of gravel? A garden snail? But then she realised she meant information.
After trying the houses on either side with no response, they worked their way down the street until at last somebody answered.
‘Hello, we’re not selling anything and we’re not the God squad either; we’re just trying to find out about the people who live at number seventy-six, the house at the end,’ said Amy breathlessly.
It was an Asian man in his seventies. ‘We don’t know them,’ he said. ‘They’re new, only moved in a couple of years ago; they don’t mix, keep themselves to themselves. Why? Is there a problem?’ He looked across at the house suspiciously.
‘It’s the people who used to live there we want to know about,’ said Jade, finally plucking up the courage to speak. ‘Mr and Mrs Coughlin.’
‘Ah. They moved to Cornwall. We don’t keep in touch.’
‘Oh.’ Her face fell. ‘That’s a shame.’
‘Actually, it’s their daughter we really want to find,’ Amy interjected.
‘Oh, you mean Erin?’ He nodded. ‘Yes, she’s done very well for herself. Owns several kindergartens in, er … that town north of London, near Luton, is it? Sorry, I’m forgetting. My wife will tell you, but she’s not here at the moment. Why are you wanting to know?’
‘She’s her birth mum,’ Amy said.
That’s when he asked them inside for a cup of tea. A few days later, Jade received a large brown envelope full of information, together with the photos of Oliver and Chloe and a postcard of a dove with the words Good luck! scrawled across the back in thick black pen.
On the journey back from Camford that day, Jade and Amy talked only of happy endings. Her birth mum would be over the moon to hear from her. First there would be an emotional but joyful reunion between the two of them, followed a week later by a big celebration at the family home. Everyone would be invited to come and meet their long-lost sister/granddaughter/niece/cousin/whatever. Jade fancied roast beef with all the trimmings, but Amy said they’d need a turkey to feed such a large number. It would be like the most amazing Christmas you could ever think of, only better. She’d probably be showered with gifts to make up for all the birthdays she’d missed. There would be balloons and crackers and endless smiley photos and probably champagne.
‘This is your room,’ her birth mum would say, showing her around the house after all the guests had gone. ‘It’ll always be here for you, whenever you want to come and stay. In fact, we’d love you to move in straight away.’
* * *
‘Afternoon,’ says Mike sarcastically as she enters the shop. She looks up at the wall clock. What’s his problem? She’s only twenty minutes late and there are no customers. ‘Aren’t you going to apologise?’
‘Sorry,’ she mumbles grudgingly as she hurries past him and dives into the back room. He follows her, going into the kitchen area and filling the kettle.
‘Those were outside, probably been there all night,’ he says, nodding towards half a dozen bulging carrier bags. ‘Watch out for mice.’
‘Okay,’ she says, though she knows Bobby will already have been through the bags and disturbed any wildlife. He’s the homeless guy who sleeps in the doorway opposite. It used to be a travel agent’s but that closed down years ago and the shop has stayed empty ever since. Jade thinks it’s a shame Bobby can’t just break in and squat, although he seems comfy enough in the doorway. He’s got a proper mattress, and people keep giving him duvets – he’s got about six of them now, all filthy and rotting at the edges. She hopes she doesn’t end up back on the streets when she leaves the hostel. Anything but that.
Mike lets his tea bag stew in his mug for what feels like forever before removing it and squeezing out the excess liquid against the side of the sink. Then he pops up the lid of the pedal bin and carefully places the tea bag inside, as if burying a much-loved pet. Jade is feeling territorial. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll get out of her area right now.
As soon as he leaves, she empties out the new bags, making an enormous pile in the middle of the room. They’re all ladies’ clothes; it looks like a fantastic hoard. Bound to be some vintage pieces in here, she thinks as she does a quick rummage, feeling the fabrics for quality.
She lifts out a silk dress, sleeveless with a wide neck – Amy calls it a boat neck – tight around the body with a full skirt gathered at the waist. Fifties or sixties, perhaps? It’s midnight blue, although as she holds it up it shimmers into purple, then deep pink. A broad smile crosses her face. It’s the most beautiful dress she’s ever seen – her size too – and she has a sudden urge to rush into the cubicle and try it on. But she doesn’t. One: she’s supposed to be working, not playing dressing-up. And two: if Mike sees it, within minutes it’ll be priced, pressed and hanging in the window.
She quickly stuffs the dress into one of the empty bags and hides it behind a pile of books. Forgetting that she promised herself not to use her phone until lunchtime, she rattles off a quick text to Amy: OMG have got you the best thing ever. Come in now!!!!
It takes over an hour for Amy to text back, which is very unusual for her and rather annoying. At clinic with Mum, her message says, no more.
Jade immediately feels guilty for forgetting that Mia’s having some important tests today. She should have texted first thing to wish her luck.
Maybe it’s not too late. Her fingers dance across the keyboard. Thinking about you all morning. Hope it goes well!!! Love you. She presses down on the x and makes a long line of kisses. Will that be enough to repair the damage? The last thing she wants is to piss her best friend off.
She receives a reply just a few seconds later. All fine. Mum wants to see you. Come over tonight.
* * *
That evening, as soon as Jade arrives and before she has a chance to ask how it went at the hospital, Mia says, ‘Has she been in touch – your birth mum?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘You’ll just have to turn up on the doorstep, then. Surprise, surprise!’
‘Hmm … maybe.’ Jade looks away, not wanting Mia to see that she’s upset.
‘Have you thought about trying your birth dad instead?’
‘Oh no, I don’t want to do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’d be too scared.’
‘Scared?’ says Amy, coming in from the kitchen carrying a tray, which she rests on her mother’s lap. ‘Why?’
Jade shrugs. ‘In case he doesn’t want to know me either. I’ve had enough rejection in my life,’ she adds.
‘Aww, you poor thing,’ says Mia, picking up her spoon. ‘We care about you, don’t we, Amy?’ She winks at her daughter, who nods.
‘Yep,’ she says. ‘Don’t worry, Jade. Everything’s going to be all right.’
Chapter Nine
Erin
March 2020
It was the night of the Chamber of Commerce annual business awards and I was dressed up to the nines, immacula
tely groomed from head to toe, all my creases ironed out. But inside I was as crumpled as a dirty dish rag, my edges frayed and torn.
The family had scrubbed up well. Tom was looking as handsome as ever – he had the height and build to carry off formal evening wear – but Oli was struggling with the suit we’d hired for him. It was too big around the waist, so his shirt kept coming untucked. Chloe looked gorgeous in her silver mini dress, although Tom was right, it did look like a piece of lingerie, and she was wearing entirely the wrong shoes. Even so, I felt incredibly proud of the two of them, and was thrilled that we’d persuaded them to join us for the ceremony. As we sat in the black cab on our way to the venue, I gazed at my family, thinking about how much I loved them and how I would do anything to keep us together.
Jade’s email was still sitting in my inbox, marked as ‘new’. It was risky keeping it there, where anyone might see it, but I couldn’t bear to move it into a private folder. I let it wait there in defiant bold, tormenting me until I sent a reply. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d tried, but every attempt had ended in failure. They started well – it was easy to say I loved her and had never stopped thinking about her, and that I was deeply sorry that her adoption hadn’t worked out – but after that I got stuck. I wanted to be honest with her, but I was worried she would misunderstand. Admitting she was a secret sounded like I was ashamed of her, and saying I needed more time to tell my family sounded selfish and uncaring. No matter how carefully I tried to explain the situation, my words came across as a rejection, and I ended up deleting everything I’d written.
I wasn’t thinking it through properly; I was thinking about my needs, not Jade’s. I should have realised that receiving a difficult email would be worse than not getting any response at all. While Jade’s message remained in my inbox, I could believe that I was going to reply, today or tomorrow, or at the weekend, when Tom was off cycling and I’d got the house to myself. I kept hoping that somehow the perfect phrases were going to appear magically on the screen, but over a month had gone by and it still hadn’t happened. A whole month – it was far too long.
‘Nervous?’ asked Tom, noticing my thoughtful silence.
‘A bit … not really,’ I said, pulling myself back into the here and now. ‘I’m sure I won’t win anyway.’
‘Then why are we here?’ groaned Chloe, thumping back in her seat.
‘Mum doesn’t mean it; she’s just trying to manage our expectations,’ Oli chipped in with the annoying wisdom of an older brother.
Chloe snorted. ‘Like what does that even mean?’
An argument started up between them. I zoned out, not wanting to get involved. As my children’s voices faded into a background hum, I started to compose another reply to Jade in my head.
My darling Jade, I’m so sorry not to have responded to you sooner. I was shocked very surprised to receive your birthday card and touched by your email …
‘Erin? Come on. We’re here.’ Tom tugged at me to get out of the taxi.
‘Sorry, I was miles away.’
‘Your mother never stops,’ he told the children, misinterpreting my distraction. ‘If the award was for being a workaholic, she’d win it every year.’
They laughed weakly and we trooped up the steps of the town hall.
Hilary was waiting for us in the foyer, clutching the invitations. ‘They’ve put us right at the back,’ she said, ‘which isn’t a good sign.’
‘Don’t be such a pessimist, Hils.’ Tom kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘They can’t put all the winners at the front or it would be too obvious.’
I walked towards the cloakroom, where I exchanged my coat for a small plastic disc. Then we climbed the impressive staircase to the gallery, to be welcomed by waiters standing with trays of glasses bubbling with champagne. Before I could stop her, Chloe had cheekily grabbed one and plunged into the throng of people waiting to be let into the ballroom.
‘Chloe!’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Tom, following the flash of silver satin.
Oli handed me an orange juice, then took a glass of champagne for himself. ‘So pathetic,’ he murmured.
‘She’s just a normal fourteen-year-old trying it on,’ I replied, although her behaviour had sent an uncomfortable shiver down my spine.
The doors to the ballroom opened and everyone filed in, nodding and calling greetings to each other, making good-humoured jokes about their chances. It was a jolly social event organised by the local business community, nothing to get too excited about. I’d attended the awards before, but this was the first time they’d included a Woman of the Year category. I felt it implied that all the other awards were for men, but I wasn’t in the mood for making a point. I had to focus on the present and stop my mind drifting into dangerous territory again.
Tom was beckoning towards us. He’d found our table and Chloe was already sitting down, her cheeks pink, eyes glowing mischievously.
‘Come on, Oli,’ I said, taking his arm. ‘The sooner it starts, the sooner it’ll be over, eh?’
They always gave out the awards first on these occasions, presumably so that people didn’t get too drunk on an empty stomach. Tom gripped my hand as they made the announcement, but somehow I knew I hadn’t won. It was God punishing me for not replying to that email. Quite right too, I thought to myself as I clapped the winner enthusiastically.
Everyone else was disappointed, but I felt fine about it. I was genuinely relieved that it wasn’t me walking up to the stage to receive the gong. As I picked at my salmon mousse starter, smiling and making small talk with our business guests, my mind constantly flitted to Jade. It was no good; I had to do something about her.
‘Can we go now?’ sighed Chloe.
‘Not straight away, dear, it would look like sour grapes,’ Hilary whispered.
‘Sour what?’
‘It’s not polite to walk out,’ I said. ‘Especially when you’ve just lost. We have to wait until the end of the meal.’
‘Jesus …’ She threw her head back and shook it from side to side as if she were being physically tortured.
‘Calm down, Chloe,’ Tom said. ‘We’ll go as soon as it’s appropriate. Promise.’
I reached into my handbag and took out my mobile – Holly and Asha had made me promise to send them a photo of me clutching my award, so I’d better let them know the bad news. I saw I had a new text message, from an unknown number. Assuming it was a commiseration from one of the other non-successful nominees, I immediately clicked on it.
Hi! Jade here. I really need to see you. I am outside waiting. Please come now xxx
My heart started to race. How come she had my mobile number? What did she mean? Was she standing in the street waiting to confront me in front of my family and colleagues? I couldn’t have this. I had to talk to her first, had to explain that this wouldn’t work.
I stuffed my phone into my bag and stood up. ‘Sorry, guys. Got to make an urgent call.’
‘What’s wrong?’ said Tom.
I hesitated. ‘I’ve, er … had a text from my mother.’
‘Your mother? Really?’
‘Yes … She wants me to call her straight away.’
‘Oh dear.’ Hilary looked concerned. ‘I hope nobody’s been taken ill.’
‘Me too. Sorry, excuse me.’ They both nodded understandingly and I felt a pang of guilt.
‘How come she can leave the table and I can’t?’ Chloe demanded to know, but I didn’t wait to hear Tom’s explanation. I rushed out of the ballroom and hurtled down the stairs.
The foyer was empty apart from a few staff standing around looking bored. I ran down the front steps into the street, my eyes darting around wildly for a young woman of about the right age. But I had no idea what she looked like. Was she tall or short? Skinny or chunky? A brunette like me or a mousy blonde like her father?
A motorcyclist was revving up his bike, an older couple in party clothes were waving down a cab, a homeless guy was lying on the ground in
a sleeping bag. There was nobody around who even remotely fitted the bill.
My panic subsided a little as reason took over. It was extremely unlikely that she knew I’d gone to the awards ceremony tonight; she probably meant she was waiting outside my home. A fresh fear immediately took over – I didn’t want her there either. If anything, it was worse. I had to make her go away.
I stood under a street lamp and frantically typed: Where are you? Are you outside my house?
I started to shiver. My thin party dress flapped around my legs, the cold air drying the sweat on my naked arms. After about a minute, another text pinged onto the screen.
Yes. Where are you?
There was no way I was going to tell her that, but I knew I had to give her something, otherwise she might still be waiting outside when we arrived home. My fingers were shaking as I typed my reply.
Very sorry, can’t make it tonight. Can we meet tomorrow morning instead? The Coffee Cup. By the train station. 10 a.m.? Love Erin x
I took a deep breath and pressed send. It felt as if I’d just sealed my fate.
I was about to go back inside when they all trooped out. ‘Why have you left?’ I said. ‘We haven’t eaten yet.’
‘You were ages. We were getting worried,’ Tom replied. He looked at me anxiously. ‘What’s up? Did you speak to your mum?’
‘Er, yes, eventually. She … she thought my father was having a heart attack, but it was a false alarm,’ I said, hating myself for compounding my lies.
‘She shouldn’t have bothered you,’ he tutted. ‘You okay? You’re shivering.’
‘I’m fine.’ I tried a smile. ‘Shall we go back in?’