by Jessica Ryn
The envelope on the top is plain and brown. Neat, considered handwriting. Miss Dawn Elizabeth Brightside. A Manchester postmark.
Dawn takes the A4 sheet from its envelope and stares at each word, trying to trust the ink on the page. It’s been a long day and she’s been wrong about these things before. She closes her eyes and looks back again at the letter. Same words in the same order. Sentences she’s been waiting to see for twenty-two years.
Dear Dawn Brightside,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to you on behalf of the Holding Hands Adoption Agency to inform you that your daughter born on 23/06/1997 has made a request for contact with you.
Your daughter contacted us several months ago, but we were unable to trace an address for you until you recently registered at St Jude’s Hostel.
As an agency, we have prepared your daughter as fully as possible for all outcomes. She has stated that she understands you may be unwilling or not ready to meet her but that she would dearly like to make contact.
Please take the time you need to reach a decision. We are able to offer support with this if you feel that would be helpful. If you are happy to receive the letter your daughter has given us for you, please fill in form 3b (enclosed) to give us permission to send it to you.
Yours Sincerely,
Louisa Joy
Holding Hands Adoption Agency
Using the closed door to slide against, Dawn lowers herself to her knees on the floor. She bows forward and presses her forehead into the carpet, making watermarks on it with her tears as she weeps through closed eyes. She stays there until the sobs subside and all the blood has rushed to her face, leaving her lightheaded and shaky. Dawn gets slowly to her feet, walks to her chest of drawers and pulls out one of the black biros she’d borrowed from the office. She pulls out form 3b from the envelope and unfolds it, looking at the tick box at the bottom until the image is burned into her mind.
Chapter 40
Grace
GRACE PLACES THE CALCULATOR down between the spreadsheet and neatly stacked banknotes on the office table. She stretches her arm out in front of her; it still feels stiff from all those hours of swimming yesterday.
‘How do you think we should break the news?’ she says. The words in front of her are difficult to look away from. It’s as if they are alive and dancing around on the screen of her computer.
‘It’s great weather.’ Peter glances out of the office window. ‘How about we get everyone together for a BBQ and let them all know this afternoon?’ He looks like a different man this week; like he’s had some of the age squeezed out, leaving him lighter without all that worry weighing him down.
‘I’ll ask Terry and Cara to pop out for supplies. Dawn can run the café on her own for a bit. She’s really found her feet there now. The customers love her.’
‘Mmm. About that.’ Peter snaps the file closed he’s been working on. ‘Now that we’re losing Cara to Francine’s and are potentially about to have new residents to train, we could do with a permanent member of staff to oversee the café.’
‘Dawn,’ Grace and Peter say in perfect unison.
‘Love it.’ Grace’s brain lights up as she pictures Cara and Dawn both doing what they love and collecting pay checks to help them build lives for themselves. ‘And while we’re on the subject, I was thinking we could have a look at our move-on list. A few of ours are almost ready and our waiting list isn’t getting any smaller.’
‘Terry is going at the end of the week. That gardening job he landed for himself has accommodation included.’
‘Amazing.’ Grace claps her hands.
‘So that will leave a bed – perhaps for Maisie McDowell? We could send someone to the park to see if she wants to come to the BBQ? And Jack’s doing well with his job – he’s been saving for a deposit, so it probably won’t be long before he…’
‘And what about Dawn?’ Grace interrupts.
Peter plucks his glasses from his nose and cleans them with the bottom of his shirt. He’s wearing a new pair of rimless lenses, not a scratch in sight. ‘I’m not sure. She’s only just stabilising on her medication. Don’t you think she still needs us?’
‘Of course. And we need her. We’ll always be here for Dawn and if she’s up for it, she’ll still be around every day in the café. I just think we owe it to her to help her to settle somewhere she can put down roots. She deserves a life she doesn’t have to run from.’ Grace grabs the interview paperwork from the filing cabinet and pulls on her cardigan. ‘Be back in a few.’ Her fingers have just glazed the handle of the office door when Peter calls her back.
‘Shall I invite Hazel to the BBQ?’ Peter’s face is straight. Too straight.
‘Did you sort things out with her?’
Peter turns swivels his chair around, a grin pulling at his mouth. ‘We went out last night. After the big swim.’
‘Wonderful. What about the stuff about your drinking, though?’
‘She apologised about all that. Apparently, she used to live with an alcoholic who didn’t treat her well. Hearing about my past brought some stuff back for her. Just baggage she hadn’t realised she was still carrying.’
‘Yup. We’ve all got some. It’s good to check each other’s arms for it occasionally.’ Grace makes her way back to the door.
‘Oh, and Grace?’
She rolls her eyes and repeats her step back.
‘Well done for all your hard work.’
Terry already has the BBQ fired up and has put the first round of burgers on by the time Grace steps outside. A swarm of residents are crowded around him holding mugs of lemonade.
‘Do you want to tell them or shall I?’ Grace says in a low voice once Peter is in earshot.
‘You tell them, boss. You’ve earned this moment.’
‘So have you,’ grins Grace. She claps her hands three times and waits for the residents to stop chatting. ‘We have the results from the fundraising,’ she shouts across the garden.
Drinks are lowered and several pairs of eyes stare back at her.
‘Firstly, I’d like to say a huge well done to everyone who took part, helped with organising or helped spread the word,’ Grace continues. ‘We couldn’t have done it without you, you were all so very…’
‘How much did we make?’ says Teardrop Terry.
‘Just tell us!’ Cara is biting her nails.
‘Okay.’ Grace takes a big breath. ‘The proceeds from the swim came to a massive thirty thousand pounds. Well over our target and plenty to put towards any shortfalls next year. There’s something else,’ she adds amongst the cheering and disbelieving squeals. ‘On that same day, we were given a sizable donation from a single benefactor, a Mr Blake Brown. It was gifted for the sole purpose of expanding St Jude’s so we can help even more homeless people in our community. The planning permission request was made before close of business yesterday.’
The ground below Grace vibrates from the stampede of twenty pairs of feet jumping up and down. Tears are shed. Hugs are given.
‘Thank you for believing in us,’ Cara whispers in her ear. ‘And for giving us a chance when no one else would.’
Jack walks over from the drinks table. He looks behind him before handing her a cup of lemonade, running his finger discreetly across the back of Grace’s hand as he does so, sending delicious tingles up her arm.
‘Knew you could do it, Miss,’ he winks.
Grace’s heart has never been so full.
The office phone can only just be heard over the din. Peter kisses Hazel’s cheek before rushing back inside and comes out holding the office landline.
‘Phone call for you.’ He hands the phone to Grace.
Peter is announcing Dawn’s acceptance of her permanent job at the café amidst further applause as Grace crosses the lawn and makes her way over the paving slabs near the door.
‘Hello?’ she cups the phone under her chin.
‘Hello, Grace.’ Her mum’s clipped voice. ‘I’ve been
trying your mobile all morning. I’ve just seen it. It’s all over the internet.’
Grace doesn’t speak. She can’t. She hasn’t heard that voice for so long.
‘I can’t believe how well you’ve done, rallying around like that and raising so much money and awareness. Such an important job you’re doing. I just wanted to tell you how proud I am.’
Grace looks at the elation on the faces around her. Laughter rings out from the collective conversations in the air from every direction.
‘Thanks, Mum. I’m pretty proud of me too.’ After hanging up the phone, Grace notices how loose her shoulders feel; how light her chest is.
Dawn is rushing towards Grace, squeezing her own hands when she stops in front of her.
‘What’s happened?’
‘I’ve been waiting all morning to tell you something.’ Dawn is almost dancing on the spot. ‘I got a letter yesterday.’ A sob comes out alongside her words. ‘I still can’t believe it.’
Grace ushers Dawn to the drinks corner where it’s quiet and pours them both out a cup of lemonade. She reads Dawn’s letter three times before looking up at her face and squeezing her with the tightest hug.
‘Have you thought about what you’d like to do?’
‘I’ve already written back.’ Dawn’s eyes are two shining stars on a clear night. ‘I sent it first thing this morning.’
Chapter 41
Grace
‘IF THE EXTENSION GOES on this side of the building, I reckon we could fit around eight extra bedrooms in,’ Grace says. It’s been a week since they were told about their funding, and Grace wants to move forwards as quickly as possible with the renovations. Sunlight bounces off the front windows of St Jude’s and she holds her hands up to shield her eyes from the rays. The warm breeze from the sea behind her blows her hair across her face.
Peter scribbles an outline of the building onto his clipboard, umming and ahhhing before agreeing with Grace.
‘Ah, you’re out here already,’ grins Jack as he walks through the hostel door onto the clifftop beside them. He’s wearing a hard hat and has brought two others with him: a man and a woman from his building firm. Both their heads are bare and Grace suspects Jack enjoys wearing his hard hat a little too much. Especially given that no actual work has begun yet.
Jack and his colleagues whip out tape measures and measure windows and doors before giving quotes and discussing time scales.
‘Jack has told us all about this place,’ the woman says. ‘It’s a great thing you’re doing. We’d like to offer you a lower rate – if you throw in the odd cake from the café, that is.’
‘Wonderful,’ Grace beams.
Jack darts a look towards Peter, who is inspecting the ground to the left of the existing building. When he’s satisfied he isn’t being watched, he pulls Grace’s arm towards him and murmurs into her ear. ‘They said I can finish for the day after this. Meet me at the bottom of the hill in five minutes. There’s something I want to show you.’ His mouth lightly brushes her earlobe as he speaks, sending goosebumps down Grace’s arm.
After saying goodbye to Peter and locking up the office, Grace trundles down Cliff View Hill. Towards the bottom on the left-hand side sits a parked Peugeot. It has an old registration plate and a slight dent on the bumper. ‘You bought a car!’ she says to Jack as he climbs out of the driver’s side. Tears prick the back of her eyes as she remembers his driving lessons over the past month, the wreck that Jack had been on the morning of his test.
‘Yup. Needs a bit of work, but still. At least I can drive you places sometimes instead of you taking me everywhere.’
Jack opens the passenger door and Grace climbs in. The seats are worn and the footwell could do with a mat to cover the stained carpet. She smiles at the brand-new air freshener in the shape of an ice cream cone that’s hanging from the interior mirror, clearly bought by Jack in an effort to smother the existing smell of damp-dog with lashings of vanilla.
‘It’s fantastic,’ she says. ‘What a fab surprise.’
Jack chuckles as he checks his mirror and puts the car in gear. ‘This isn’t what I wanted to show you. The real surprise is on its way.’
They drive past the harbour and through the town before pulling into the car park by the precinct.
‘We’re going shopping?’ Grace says, feeling a little let down as she pictures trailing around Poundland for windscreen wash.
‘Nope. You will see.’ Jack gets a parking ticket and pops it in the window before leading Grace across the road and turning right. He stops when they reach the display window at the front of an estate agent and spins Grace around to face it.
Rows of house photos in the rental section with a couple of flats dotted between them. ‘What are you showing me?’
‘I’m moving out. Leaving St Jude’s.’
Grace’s arms feel cold and something plummets from her stomach as she pictures her mornings at the office without Jack’s twinkling eyes or ridiculous questions he invents just to see her. She’d lost count of the number of times he’d come to ask her what day he needed to put the bins out.
‘I see.’ Grace feels her voice crack and tries to fix it with a smile. ‘Have you spoken to Peter about this? He’s your key worker. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you find a flat – I know he thinks you’ve been ready for a while.’
‘It’s not a flat I’m looking for.’ Jack points at a photo of a pretty thatched cottage. ‘It’s got two bedrooms and it’s right near the beach. It’s Kingsdown, so just outside Dover but it’s close enough to work now I’ve got the car.’
‘It’s more expensive than a flat would be. And it looks quite big for one person.’ Why does he want to be so far away from her? Maybe this is his way of telling her that things are changing. He’s done with St Jude’s, and he’s done with her.
‘My wages have gone up now I’ve passed my probation period. And there’s a reason I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you to choose somewhere with me. Somewhere maybe we’d both like to live one day.’
The roar of the rush-hour traffic on the road behind Grace fades away as she looks into Jack’s face. She sees the two of them eating breakfast on the pebbles before work and going for evening walks to the pub afterwards. Notes on the fridge asking each other to buy milk.
‘I want us to be together properly.’ Jack slips her hand into his and Grace resists the urge to check that no one’s watching. ‘No more sneaking around. If I move out, I’m no longer a service user.’ Jack makes bunny ears with his fingers. ‘Then, after however much time you are comfortable with, you could move into our new home together.’ Jack tucks Grace’s windswept hair behind her ear. His eyes hold something new behind them. They’re still impossibly green with flecks of brown, his eyelashes still dark. But they’re filled with strength. There’s a maturity in him that wasn’t there before. ‘You’ve always said you hate your flat. We could get our very own pool table and spend our evenings watching shit films. Sharknado, even. And then perhaps one day in the far-off future, I’ll take you to another kind of window display. The type that has rings in it.’
‘Like the one on the seafront that sells buckets and spades,’ Grace teases lightly, trying to slow the thud of her heart.
‘Not rubber rings.’ Jack’s face switches to serious.
‘Don’t you dare propose to me in the middle of Dover town centre. Not when the clifftop and the castle is right up there.’
Jack laughs. ‘Don’t you worry. We’ve had enough excitement for one day. Let’s go inside, I said we’d meet the agent here at half five.’
‘Ready to go?’ the agent picks up his keys when Jack tells him who they are.
‘Where are we going?’ Grace hisses in Jack’s ear as they follow Alan out of the door.
Jack’s mouth twitches into a grin. ‘I arranged a viewing at the Kingsdown property.’
They follow the agent to Kingsdown. Grace’s head fills with delight as she looks closely at the stunning village she’d never
paid much attention to before. ‘It’s actual paradise,’ she says as she looks at the pretty beach on one side and the rows of well-kept stone cottages on the other.
‘Just imagine how peaceful it will be. You work so hard to look after everyone else, Grace. You deserve to have a place like this to hide in at the end of each day.’ It’s as if he’s speaking directly to the disapproval that’s trying to break through.
The house is as lovely inside as out. Ridden with character and cute fireplaces, there’s no way either of them wants to miss out on it.
‘Excellent,’ the agent says. ‘We just need to do the relevant background checks and paperwork. It’s ready to let so fingers crossed, you could be in there by the end of next week if you wanted?’
Jack’s brows knit together on the way back to the car and he doesn’t say a word as they climb the hill.
‘Do you not have the deposit yet?’ Grace says, trying to guess the reason for Jack’s downturn in mood.
‘I’ve been saving. That’s all sorted. It’s just the word background check that gives me the heebie-jeebies.’ Jack turns the key in the ignition and checks his mirrors. ‘The thought of anyone looking into my background just reminds me of my past and everything I’ve done.’
‘You’re not that person anymore,’ Grace reminds him. ‘You’ve got a job – a good one. You’ve not been in trouble for such a long time. You’re no longer on probation and Peter can give you a glowing reference from St Jude’s to say that you looked after your room and paid your rent on time. It will be fine.’
‘Yes!’ Jack slaps the steering wheel. ‘I mean, it still might not be fine, but the fact there’s a chance it might be is progress, right?’
Laughter bubbles up inside Grace. Even when he’s stressed, Jack is somehow still able to make her laugh.
They go back to the letting agent’s office to collect the application forms and Grace has a last look at the property details in the window.
‘I did look at that flat too.’ Jack points to the picture on the bottom row in the middle of the Flats to Let section of the display. ‘It’s near the sea and a great price but it would be better for one person.’