by Sue Fortin
‘Not great,’ I admit. ‘Don’t say anything to Mum, though.’
‘Don’t tell Nanny what?’ asks Hannah through a mouthful of toast and jam.
‘Don’t speak with food in your mouth,’ says Luke. ‘And some things aren’t meant for little ears.’ He gives a playful tug on Hannah’s ear lobe. She smiles through jam-coated teeth.
‘That’s lovely, darling,’ I say and pull a face in her direction. She laughs and I am pleased the question has been forgotten. ‘How did your recorder practice go yesterday?’ I ask, just to make doubly sure we are back on safe ground.
‘It was okay. We’re learning a new song.’
‘What’s it called?’ I wipe Chloe’s mouth with the napkin. ‘There we go, darling. All gone. Well done.’
Hannah’s answer is lost as my attention is snatched away at the sight of my mother coming into the kitchen. The first thing I notice are her eyes. They have been dull and sad and if you looked close enough, you could see pain etched in the back of them, reflecting the pain in her heart and the scars in her memory.
Today, however, there is no dullness, her eyes sparkle like I have never seen them do so before. In fact, I think this is the first time I truly appreciate the phrase. They practically illuminate the room, exuding warmth and happiness.
‘Good morning, my darlings,’ she says, sitting down at the table. In her hand she holds a piece of paper. ‘It’s my letter to Alice. Would you like to read it?’ The question is just a formality, there being no doubt in her mind that I do want to read it. She passes it over before she even finishes her sentence. ‘It’s just rough. I’m going to write it out neater this morning. Had you thought about enclosing a small note yourself?’
‘I’ll write it today. It seems strange that I’m actually going to be writing to her after all the years of imagining it.’ Mum and I share a smile, one that is coated with excitement and happiness.
‘That’s great,’ says Mum. She nods at the letter. ‘Read it, then.’
My darling daughter Alice
Where do I begin? I can’t tell you how happy I am to receive your letter. Happy seems such inadequate word to describe how I feel. I’m truly elated. Thank you so very much for finding me, I’ve been waiting for you ever since that day you were taken to America. Just waiting. It’s like a dream come true.
We, that’s Clare and me, have tried to find you. Clare has searched all over social media. She even hired private investigators several times but we didn’t know about the change in surname. What happened between your father and me was such a long time ago, I hardly think about it – all I’ve ever thought is about you. It’s a long and complicated story and one probably best saved for another day, when we can talk to each other face to face. Oh, how I long to hold you, my darling beautiful daughter, to hug you, to see you, to hear your voice, to find out all about you. I have no greater wish in my life than to see you, please say you will come and visit. I will pay for your travel and you can stay here, in your home, your own bedroom. Or I could come to America and visit you there. Whatever you want to do, my dearest sweet daughter, just let me know.
There is so much to tell you and so much I want to know about you.
I love you.
Mum xxx
‘It’s a lovely letter, Mum. But, you know, Alice included her email, why don’t you email her? It will be quicker.’ I pass the letter back.
‘But having something that Alice has touched herself is so precious. I thought she might feel the same about having something real and tangible from me,’ says Mum. ‘Besides, I hardly use my email account. I’m not even sure I know what my password is any more.’
‘We could easily reset it,’ I say. Mum looks doubtfully at me. ‘Or, I suppose, we could just set up a new email account for you.’
‘You could Skype her, Nanny,’ pipes up Hannah. I look over at my daughter, who has clearly been taking in much more of the conversation than I realise. Although, I don’t know why I’m surprised, she’s a bright thing. I smile at Hannah.
‘What?’ she says. ‘We use Skype to speak to Nanny Sheila and Granddad Michael.’
‘Is that where you can see each other on the screen?’ asks Mum.
‘That’s right, when we speak to Luke’s parents,’ I say. Mum pulls a face and I laugh. ‘You don’t fancy that, then?’
‘Oh no, I don’t think I’d like that. I’d have to make sure my hair was done and I looked half decent. I could stretch to an email,’ says Mum. ‘Can’t you do it from your account?’
‘I suppose so, although Alice might prefer to know she’s emailing you direct.’ I make a note of Alice’s email on my phone and take a last sip of my tea before checking my watch. ‘Look, I’ve got to get to work. We’ll talk about it later.’
Mum looks thoughtful and says, ‘I was hoping Alice would enclose a photograph of herself. I’d love to know what she looks like now.’
‘Maybe she wanted to test the water first.’ It had crossed my mind too, but I hadn’t wanted to say anything to Mum. ‘Why don’t you send her some photos of us when you write back?’
‘Yes, I was going to do that. Luke, would you be able to scan them for me?’
‘Of course, Marion. Just let me know which ones and I’ll do it, no problem,’ says Luke.
I kiss him and whisper a thank you in his ear. ‘Have a good day, you gorgeous girlies,’ I say, giving both Hannah and Chloe another kiss. Some days, leaving them is easier than others. I love my job as a solicitor, it’s something I have always wanted to do and something I have worked so hard to achieve. And for the most part, going into work isn’t a chore, it’s something I revel in. But there are other days when it is incredibly hard to leave my family. I know Hannah and Chloe will be looked after properly and they don’t miss out on anything. It’s no different to what it would be like if Luke was working in an office and I was at home. But, sometimes I have pangs of guilt about leaving them and moments of self-indulgence when I wish I was the one chivvying them along to brush their teeth or to put their shoes on. I don’t resent the roles Luke and I have carved out; it works for us as a family, but I do have secret desires every so often to be the one who works at home.
I did once suggest to Leonard that I worked from home two or three days a week but he made his feelings clear on that idea.
‘When you’re working, you need to be focused on your work and nothing else,’ he said. ‘At home it will be too easy to be distracted, no matter what your best intentions are. Not only that, but if something urgent comes up, I want you here, in the office, at the coal face.’
Even when I had protested that I could be at the end of the phone or email, he wouldn’t budge. In fact, he had been even more demonstrative, his years in the courtroom coming into play. He had questioned my ability to work with him and whether I would make a suitable partner after all. It wasn’t often I was on the receiving end of his sharp tongue, but I definitely came away licking my wounds that day.
I’m still brooding over leaving the girls when I arrive at work. I hurry down to my office, smiling and greeting the receptionist but not breaking my stride. I’m not in the mood for light chit-chat with anyone.
‘Hi, Sandy, all okay?’
‘Morning, Clare, Yes, everything’s fine.’
‘I’m going to be working on the McMillan case notes,’ I say. ‘I need a good couple of hours without any disturbances, so if you could just take messages and I’ll deal with everything this afternoon.’ I smile at her as I breeze through.
I close the door to my office behind me, knowing this is an unspoken sign to Tom and Leonard not to disturb me. I splay out the files to the McMillan case on my desk and study the papers in front of me.
It’s a tough case and Leonard has put me forward to deal with it, saying it would do me good to have some more experience with company law. McMillan is also a drinking pal of Leonard’s and I have a feeling Leonard put me forward to show off in the same way that parents show off their children by gettin
g them to perform a song, a dance or count to ten in French. I’m performing for him so he can bask in the glory of having nurtured my career and so people can pat him on the back and say how well he’s done.
Internally, I had baulked at the prospect of representing one of Leonard’s acquaintances, especially in company law, which is Tom’s forte more than it is mine. Externally, I knew better than to let the enormity of the task show on my face.
McMillan is a well-known local businessman who has political ambition, so any blemish on his character he wants removed by litigation laser treatment. In other words, I’m to make sure not only does he win the case of unlawful dismissal brought about by a former barman at the club he owns, but I’m also to ensure he comes out of it with not a speck of dust or dirt on or around him.
‘Don’t even think about saying no,’ Leonard had said as he had passed over the files. ‘You’re perfectly capable of dealing with this. The right outcome will do the firm the power of good.’
‘No pressure, then?’ I had joked with half-hearted enthusiasm.
Leonard had looked me dead in the eye. ‘There’s every pressure, Clare. Every pressure, so make sure you win.’ He had paused in the doorway and turned to me. ‘Unless, of course, you don’t think you’re up to it.’
I hadn’t faltered. ‘Of course I’m up to it,’ I had said. I could read the sub-text. If I wasn’t up to the case, then I wasn’t up to the job and, therefore, by default I wasn’t up to being a partner in the firm.
I work steadily on the case for the next two hours when, despite my instructions that I wasn’t to be disturbed, there’s a knock on the door and Leonard appears in the doorway.
‘Just wanted to make sure you’re still alive,’ he says coming in and closing the door behind him. ‘Sandy said you’re working on the McMillan case. How’s it going?’ He nods towards the papers and law books spread out in front of me.
I sit back in my chair, dropping my pencil onto the desk. ‘Not too bad. Difficult, as we expected. It doesn’t help that the other party have come up with a witness now.’
‘Well, then, we need to come up with a witness too.’
‘There isn’t one. McMillan isn’t the most popular of bosses, as it turns out.’
‘Find one.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ I say, aware that there is little conviction in my voice, and instantly regret letting that show. It’s not the sort of trait that makes one a convincing lawyer in court.
Leonard hasn’t missed it either. ‘Don’t give me any banal platitudes,’ he says. ‘Find a witness. I don’t need to spell it out to you, do I?
‘Of course not.’ I rearrange the papers on my desk to avoid eye contact with him. It’s no wonder he is one of the best lawyers in town, known for his ruthless streak in the courtroom. It can be intimidating just being in the same office as him and that’s when he’s on your side.
‘McMillan is ambitious, not to mention influential,’ says Leonard. ‘It will do well to keep him sweet. You do know what I’m saying?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ Of course I do. McMillan puts a lot of business the firm’s way. He has negotiated a company law deal for Leonard, which has bolstered Leonard’s pension fund, and which was agreed over several glasses of malt at the private club of which they are both members.
‘Good. I know you have a lot going on. I spoke to your mother earlier and she brought me up to speed with the news about Alice. But leave all that at home. Compartmentalise your life. It’s the best way.’
‘I know. That’s what I’m trying to do.’ It irks me slightly that Mum has already spoken to Leonard about Alice. I know she and Leonard are old friends and he is fully aware of the situation, but it makes it all the more difficult to keep my personal life out of the work place when those two things cross over.
‘So, winning the McMillan case – you know it will be a feather in not only the firm’s cap, but in yours too.’ Leonard turns to leave. ‘You’re my protégé, Clare, don’t fuck up.’
Chapter 5
The girls are already bathed and in their pyjamas when I get home. It’s been a long day and Luke is reading Chloe a bedtime story. I feel a little annoyed that he has already started and hasn’t waited for me. I love reading to the girls at night. It’s probably more for my own benefit, to ease my conscience, my atonement for not being there. Luke knows this and it almost feels like a punishment for being home late.
‘Hey, there, precious,’ I say in a soft voice as I go into the bedroom.
Chloe immediately extracts herself from the crook of Luke’s arm and bounds across the bed. ‘Mummy! Mummy!’ She launches herself into my arms and I smother her in kisses. ‘Daddy read story. Little bunny has lost balloon.’ Her face takes on a serious look as she explains to me that the balloon was red and blew away.
‘Oh, dear, poor bunny,’ I say.
‘Come on, Chloe. Settle back down now,’ says Luke, pulling back the duvet and patting the mattress.
‘I’ll finish reading,’ I say, slipping my jacket off and dropping it on the end of the bed.
Chloe bounces up and down on the bed. ‘Mum-my! Mum-my! Mum-my!’ she chants.
Luke gives a sigh and stands up, passes me the book and gives me a peck on the cheek. ‘The King is dead. Long live the King.’ He gives Chloe a kiss. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep tight.’
My guilt has now transferred from one of being late home to one of stealing Luke’s time with his daughter.
When I go downstairs, Chloe asleep and assured in the knowledge that the bunny found his balloon in the end, Luke and Hannah are in the living room watching television.
‘Mum not with us this evening?’ I ask, sitting down next to Hannah on the sofa. Luke is sprawled in the armchair, his leg dangling over one of the arms.
‘No, she wanted to watch some gardening programme in her own room,’ he replies. ‘I said you’d probably pop in and say hello later. There’s some dinner there if you’re hungry. Want me to warm it up for you?’
‘No, I had a late lunch,’ I say. ‘I’ll make myself a sandwich or something later. I’ve been working on the McMillan case today.’
Luke gives me a sympathetic smile and any tension over the bedtime story has evaporated.
‘How was your day, Hannah?’ I ask, hooking a strand of hair behind her ear.
‘It was okay,’ she replies, without looking away from the television. She laughs at her programme and, not wanting to interrupt her obvious pleasure, I don’t enquire any further. There’s obviously nothing to worry about or she would have said. Some days, a cross-examination over the school day isn’t necessary, just being aware she is happy is enough.
‘Did you scan those photos for Mum?’
‘Yep, all done.’
‘Thanks, love. Did she say any more about emailing?’ I pick up my phone and log onto the email account I created for Mum to use.
Luke shrugs. ‘I think she really wants to write a letter.’
‘But it will take at least five days to get there.’
‘What’s the rush? Just let your mum do it the way she wants to. Having a bit of breathing space is probably a good thing.’
Luke is right, of course. There is no rush. The more I think about it now, in the relaxed atmosphere of home, the more I think it’s better. We all need to tread with care. We’re all entering into a new relationship with people we don’t know; all we know is the memory.
I glance over at Luke. His attention has already returned to the TV. Hannah is just as engrossed. ‘I’ll go and see Mum.’
I make a cup of tea for both myself and Mum and knock on the door to her private sitting room. I balance the tray in one hand, so I can turn the door knob with the other.
‘Oh, hello, darling,’ she says, as I come in. ‘Ooh, cup of tea. You’ve timed it perfectly, my programme’s just finished.’
I place the tray on the small coffee table and take the seat opposite. It’s a bright and airy room, the high ceilings giving it a sense of space a
nd grandeur. Mum’s furniture wouldn’t look out of place in one of those glossy lifestyle magazines, where they interview the Lady of the Manor. It’s traditional and elegant. Rather different to our family living room, which is all big squishy sofas and tactile throws and rugs, a bit of a mish-mash but homely.
‘Did you write the letter to Alice?’ I ask, sitting down in the winged-back armchair, which is covered in a rich burgundy velour.
‘Yes, it’s there on my desk.’ Mum nods towards the Edwardian bureau by the window. ‘I’ve left it open so you can pop your letter in too. Have you done it yet?
‘Not yet. I’ll get on with it after I’ve drunk my tea.’
‘Okay, well, make sure you do. I don’t want Alice to think we’re not replying to her.’
After our tea and chat, I say goodnight to Mum and, taking the letter with me, retreat to our family sitting room. I put Mum’s letter on the table, along with my phone.
‘What’s that?’ asks Luke.
‘Just the letter from Mum to Alice. I’m going to add mine tonight.’ Hannah yawns as her programme comes to an end. ‘Come on, I’ll take you up. Say goodnight to Dad.’
I hadn’t realised how tired I was. One minute I’m sitting in the chair beside Hannah’s bed, listening to her tell me about how some boy in her class got his name on the board and then got sent to the head teacher. The next, Luke is gently shaking my arm, whispering to come to bed.
‘You fell asleep,’ he says, guiding me out of the room and closing Hannah’s bedroom door behind him. ‘You’ve had an emotionally exhausting few days. It must be catching up on you.’
‘I need to write to Alice first,’ I say, following him out onto the landing. ‘I’ll be up as soon as I’ve done it.’
I go back downstairs to my study. It’s a small room at the front of the house with a small desk, bookcase and shelving. Nothing too fancy. It’s a handy space if I need to work on anything in the evenings or weekends, although I try to avoid that whenever possible.