Father Unknown

by Lesley Pearse

  She woke refreshed the following morning and stripped her bed with the intention of leaving her washing at the laundrette to be done while she was at work. It was a lovely morning, and she considered driving down to Cornwall that night and staying for the weekend, as it might be the last good weather before autumn really set in.

  She was ready to leave for work at half past eight when she remembered it was the end of the month and the rent was due. She thought she’d leave it with Bert in the post office next door just in case she wasn’t here tomorrow.

  But when she went to the drawer in her dressing table to get it, it wasn’t there. The rent book was there, so obviously she hadn’t moved it and forgotten. The four ten-pound notes tucked inside it were missing.

  ‘You couldn’t have taken it, could you, Josie?’ she said aloud, unable to believe anyone would sink that low. Yet it was clear she had. She must have seen it while she was gathering up her things.

  ‘You fucking bitch!’ she yelled in rage. Apart from the fact that her sister had actually stolen from her, there was the question of how she was going to pay the rent now. She wasn’t due to be paid for another week, and if she used that money, she’d be short next month too. ‘I’ll never forgive you for this,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Turn into a bloody junkie if you like. I won’t care. We’re finished.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  1991

  ‘Why am I so dizzy, Fred?’ Daisy nuzzled the terrier’s white fur with her nose as she lay on her bed with her Whitney Houston album playing in the background. ‘It’s not just the question of a job, or where it’s going with Joel. I’ve got to do something about my real mum too.’

  Fred yawned noisily and snuggled closer to her. The gesture said he didn’t mind how dizzy she was, in fact he liked it.

  It was March, nine months since her mother’s death, yet Daisy felt she hadn’t moved on at all. She couldn’t claim it was purely grief for though that came in waves, often unexpectedly knocking her for six, time could pass without her thinking about Lorna too much.

  But without being able to sound ideas off her mother as she was used to, Daisy found it hard to be positive, to make plans and stick to them. She often had a lonely, desolate feeling that even her friends and Joel couldn’t eradicate.

  The only positive step she’d taken was to enrol in an intensive chef’s course. She had used some of the money her mother had left her to pay for it, and begun it last September, having spent the summer doing agency office work. While she felt she had found the only thing she really had a talent for, and the praise from her tutors had boosted her self-esteem, now the course was close to ending, and she was nervous. Cooking fabulous dishes in a calm and friendly environment was one thing, to do it professionally in a busy restaurant was quite another.

  Daisy sighed. She couldn’t afford any further failures, so whatever job she plumped for had to be the right one, or at least the first rung on the right ladder. But how was she supposed to know if it was the right ladder?

  Her tutor had suggested two alternative plans. One was to get an assistant chef’s position in a first-rate London hotel or restaurant, the other to go out of London to a smaller restaurant or hotel, where Daisy’s diploma would get her a position as head or sole chef.

  The first plan appeared to be the best. She would gain experience of working with staff under her, and could continue to live at home and still be able to see Joel. But she knew how busy central London kitchens could be and it wasn’t that appealing.

  Going out of London would mean either living in or finding a flat of her own, and it would be difficult to see Joel. But on the plus side it would be a more prestigious position, probably with more money too, and her tutor had said he thought she would be far happier in charge of a kitchen.

  Daisy knew she didn’t take kindly to being ordered about. She also liked the idea of going somewhere new and reinventing herself, but she wasn’t so sure she could cope without seeing Joel for weeks on end. Her downfall in the past had been that she tied herself to men, and she was trying not to include him in the equation. But she found old habits died hard. She really couldn’t imagine life without seeing Joel two or three times a week.

  Yet going away might solve the problem with Lucy. They were still frequently at loggerheads, mainly because her sister wouldn’t do a hand’s turn around the house. But that problem might just go away anyway, as the twins were planning a round-the-world trip after taking their final exams.

  Daisy reached out and turned the stereo up louder, singing along to ‘Miracle’. She smiled to herself, knowing that was exactly what she was hoping for, some blinding flash in which everything would be solved for her, and the road ahead clearly marked out.

  ‘Miracle’ ended and Whitney Houston began singing ‘All the Man that I Need’. Daisy reached out again and switched it off. She didn’t want to hear it, for she wasn’t so sure Joel was ‘all she needed’ any more. It was a warm and comfortable relationship, but then so were thermal vests, and she wasn’t ready to slip into those just yet. She hankered for a few fireworks, some real evidence that this was the real thing. Moving away might bring on those fireworks again, but then it could just as easily put the flame out for good.

  She wished so much she could be like some of her girlfriends, who were so sure of what they wanted, what they were capable of, that they zapped through life without any anxiety. She knew she was pathetic, she couldn’t even make up her mind about whether or not she wanted to find her real mother!

  She’d had plenty of excuses up till now to put that off. Between the chef’s course, looking after the house and seeing Joel she hadn’t had time. But recently it had started to niggle at her, not so much because she had promised her mother she would do it, but out of her own innate curiosity.

  The desire to know the whole story about Ellen was consuming her, yet at the same time she wasn’t so sure she wanted to come face to face with her. Was it fear of opening up Pandora’s Box? Or was it that she also had quite enough people leaning on her right now, without adding someone else?

  She had mentioned this to Joel recently, and his sarcastic retort had cut her to the quick. ‘You want the sandwich, but not the crust. But then you’re like that about everything, including me!’

  He was right of course. She wanted a job she loved, without too much hard work, her family minus the problems, a love affair with only passion, all the boring bits cut out, even a new mother with no stress involved.

  ‘You’re the only person I like absolutely and completely,’ she said to Fred, tickling his ears. ‘I wouldn’t change one bit of you.’

  He licked her face as if to say he felt the same about her and it made her laugh.

  ‘Daisy!’ She was startled to hear her father’s voice, as she hadn’t heard him come home.

  ‘Come in, Dad,’ she called out.

  ‘I thought you had someone in here with you, I heard you laughing,’ John said from the doorway.

  ‘It’s just me and good old Fred.’ Daisy giggled. ‘I was just telling him he was my favourite person.’

  ‘He’s taking more and more liberties these days,’ John said, sitting down on the bed and stroking Fred.

  One good thing was that her father was recovering. He was going out with friends for supper and to the theatre, he was laughing again, even looking forward to going sailing in the summer. Daisy hoped that in time he’d find a new lady, he was much too nice and young in outlook to remain on his own.

  ‘Why are you up here lolling around?’ he asked her. ‘I expected you to be out.’

  ‘I got off early today,’ she said with a yawn. ‘I’ve been lying here pondering what I should do next.’

  She briefly outlined her predicament. ‘Why am I so dizzy?’ she asked. ‘No one else seems to waver as much as I do.’

  ‘If I knew the answer to that I might have cured you years ago,’ he said, smiling at her affectionately. ‘But I’ve done a bit of wavering in my time too, and I found a way ou
t of it.’

  ‘Tell me how?’

  ‘You stop thinking about those serious things, and do something else instead. You could take a holiday, for instance, once you’ve finished the course. Once you get some distance from the problems, the solution to them often becomes clear.’

  ‘But Joel can’t take a holiday with me then,’ she said. ‘He’ll have to wait until June or July.’

  ‘Who said anything about going on holiday with him?’

  ‘I couldn’t go on my own,’ she retorted.

  ‘You could very easily. Maybe not a holiday abroad, but there’s places in England you’ve never seen. Take the West Country for instance. You could start by going to Bristol to look up the doctor who arranged the adoption. I bet she could tell you enough to satisfy your curiosity.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Daisy murmured. ‘Perhaps. I suppose afterwards I could meander down through Somerset and Devon to Cornwall.’

  ‘You could even check out a few restaurants and hotels as you go,’ John said with a grin. ‘You never know, you might find a summer job that would suit you, and that way you’d get some experience without committing yourself to a permanent job.’

  ‘But surely lack of commitment is one of my most serious flaws?’ she said, only half joking.

  ‘It’s an awful lot smarter to test the water with your toe than plunging in blindly.’ He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. ‘Besides, if you got a job in a good hotel, I’d have the perfect excuse to come and stay there to see you. I love Devon and Cornwall.’

  ‘Do you?’ She was surprised, he’d never mentioned it before.

  ‘Your mother and I used to go camping in Looe before you came along, we loved it,’ he said, looking a little wistful. ‘But once we had three of you, it was too long a drive with small children, so we never went again. I’ve often thought if I sell this house I might buy somewhere down there. I could work just as easily from Barns-taple or Exeter, say, as from London. Most of the properties we work on are in the west.’

  His enthusiasm stirred Daisy and suddenly she really wanted to go. ‘I could take Fred with me, that would give me an excuse for long walks.’

  At the word ‘walks’ Fred’s ears pricked up.

  ‘Not now,’ Daisy giggled. ‘I’ve got to get my diploma first.’

  At nine in the morning of 9 April Daisy set off for Bristol in her Beetle with Fred sitting in the back. She had passed her chef’s exam with distinction, gained her diploma, and she had a curious sense of satisfaction that for once she’d stuck at something long enough to achieve a goal.

  Her thoughts turned to Joel, whom she’d seen the previous day. He had been so chilly, but whether that was because she’d been talking about getting a summer job away from London, or just because she wanted to go somewhere without him, she didn’t know. He had checked her tyre pressure, oil and water, but he’d had a sullen expression on his face, and he kept saying the Beetle was too old for such long journeys.

  But then he’d been a wet blanket about her appointment with Dr Julia Fordham in Bristol too. Daisy had written to the doctor a couple of weeks ago, and even then Joel had been scoffing, saying she’d be well over seventy and even if she was still alive she was probably senile. Maybe he was peeved because he was proved wrong. Dr Fordham still lived at the same address and she didn’t sound senile when she agreed to see Daisy on 9 April at one. Her father had claimed Joel was just being protective, because he was worried about Daisy going there alone. To Daisy it just looked like a schoolboy sulk.

  She wasn’t going to think about him any more. Tonight she was booked into a guest-house in Bristol that didn’t mind dogs, but from then until the end of the week when she had arranged to stay at a cottage in St Mawes in Cornwall, she hadn’t made any advance plans. Perhaps that worried Joel too.

  Yet armed with maps, visitors’ guides and a booklet of guest-houses in Devon and Cornwall, Daisy felt in control and very excited. To her it was a magical mystery tour that might very well result in a whole new direction.

  Bristol was a very confusing city to drive in, with seemingly no directions signs except to the airport. She pulled into the bus station and asked five different people the way to Clifton, and was baffled when they told her there was a village, somewhere called the Triangle, and another part called Whiteladies Road. It didn’t help that they spoke so strangely too, it reminded her of television adverts for cream with one of the Wurzels saying ‘Give’em a gurt big dollop’. So she took the road that had been pointed out and kept on it. When she asked for directions again, she was almost at Pembroke Road.

  Number 7 was right at the end of a long, lovely road of huge old houses. There were cherry and magnolia trees in full bloom in almost every garden, and though many of the houses had clearly been converted into flats for students, judging by the copious amount of dustbins, they didn’t have that seedy, run-down look student houses in London had. There were many roads off to the right and left that begged to be explored, little communities with a few shops, restaurants and pubs, and she felt like a child on a Sunday school outing.

  She was very early for the appointment, so she parked her car and took Fred for a walk on the Downs, which was at the top of Pembroke Road. She was staggered to see such an enormous green space in the middle of a city. Bristol certainly was a city of surprises.

  ‘We’ll come up here again later,’ she told Fred as she put him back on his lead. He had gone mad for a while after being cooped up in the car for so long, rushing about and rolling on his back on the grass with evident delight.

  She put Fred back in the car, and taking her notebook and the adoption documents her mother had given her, she walked up the path of number 7. It was strange to imagine that Ellen must have walked on this path, both before and after Daisy’s birth, and that her parents had collected her from here too.

  She looked up at the old house and wondered if Ellen had been intimidated by it when she first came here. It was very grand with its stone steps up to the front door and its huge bay windows. But like the other houses in the road it appeared to be divided up into flats as there were six bells. She rang Dr Fordham’s and for the first time felt a little nervous.

  ‘Dr Fordham?’ Daisy asked when the door was opened by a white-haired lady in a lavender knitted two-piece. She didn’t fit the image of a hard-bitten professional woman that her mother’s note had created. She just looked like a sweet old granny.

  ‘You must be Daisy,’ she said with a warm smile. ‘I am Dr Fordham, do come in. Did you manage to find your way here without too much difficulty?’

  ‘Yes, I found it easily. What a lovely place Bristol is. I just took my dog up for a walk on the Downs, I can’t believe that a city has so much open space.’

  ‘Clifton’s not what it was, my dear,’ the doctor said as she led Daisy through a door into her flat which was on the ground floor. ‘It used to be very smart, the shops comparable with Bond Street, now it’s all restaurants and take-aways.’

  ‘But the houses are so lovely,’ Daisy replied.

  Once she was inside the flat she wondered how Dr Fordham could afford to heat such vast rooms on her pension. It had clearly been very elegant once, but the velvet drapes were dusty, and everything was very worn. She wondered why she didn’t move somewhere smaller and easier to manage.

  ‘Do sit down, Daisy,’ the doctor said. She looked delighted to have a visitor. ‘I was so pleased when I got your letter, for I remember you well as a baby, and your parents of course. I am so sorry to hear of your mother’s death, I remember her as being such a vivacious woman.’

  Daisy had explained in her letter that she only wanted to know a little more about Ellen at this stage, and that she wasn’t sure she was ready to meet her, even if that were possible. She hoped the old lady had taken that in and wouldn’t suddenly produce Ellen from behind a door.

  ‘The first thing I want to know is, why was it a private adoption?’ Daisy asked. ‘I didn’t think that was allowed
.’

  Dad had told her that he and Lorna had got so fed up with the red tape and all the endless visits and questions from the National Adoption Society that when a friend of theirs offered to put them in touch with someone who dealt in private adoptions, they had jumped at the chance. Daisy was just testing Dr Fordham to see if she answered the question truthfully.

  ‘It was frowned on by the main societies,’ the old lady said carefully. ‘Of course that was because there are so many unscrupulous people around. But doctors often get to know girls in trouble, and in turn know ideal couples who want to adopt. You mustn’t get the idea I was running some kind of baby farm here, dear me no.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that at all,’ Daisy said quickly. ‘I just wanted to understand how it came about that I was matched with John and Lorna.’

  ‘Ellen was brought to me for an examination by the people she worked for in Bristol. She was intending to go to a mother-and-baby home later. As it happened, I had friends in London who knew John and Lorna well. I had already been told how badly let down they felt by the National Adoption Society, for they were just kept hanging on, their hopes built up only to be dashed again and again. I knew they were good people with everything to offer a child, and like natural parents they weren’t the least concerned about its sex, they just wanted a baby.

  ‘When I saw what a sweet girl Ellen was, they immediately sprang to mind. I had a feeling it would be a perfect match.’

  That was almost exactly what Daisy had been told by her father, and the fact that the doctor could recall it so clearly made her think she must be entirely trustworthy.

  ‘Of course there were other circumstances too, which prompted the private adoption.’ Dr Fordham frowned as she spoke, as if this was the one area she wasn’t quite happy about. ‘The family Ellen was working for didn’t want to lose her, she was so good with their children, and they were afraid if she went through the normal channels of a mother-and-baby home, she would be tempted into keeping you. So it was in their interests too, to encourage a private adoption where the baby is taken away at birth, rather than the mother looking after it for six weeks.’