by Sue Fortin
‘Alice,’ I whisper.
‘Which one is Alice?’ says Luke looking over my shoulder.
‘The one on the left.’ Chloe, now deposited on the floor, is occupying herself with the shoes from my cupboard. I smile and lean back into Luke. ‘Do you think Alice looks like me?’
Luke peers closer. ‘It’s hard to say. Maybe? The hair’s the same and possibly the cheekbones too. Who’s the other girl?’
I scan through the letter, skimming across the words. ‘It’s her friend, Martha.’ I go back and read the email properly. ‘Oh, shit.’
‘What’s up?’
‘She wants to come over and she’s going to bring her friend with her.’ I look at Luke. ‘Why would she do that?’
‘Is it a problem?’
‘Well, it would be better if she came alone. But, then again, maybe she’s nervous. Maybe she wants someone there who she knows.’ I press my lips together in that sympathetic way people do when they want to show someone they know how they’re feeling without having to say any words. Usually accompanied by a sorrowful or resigned expression. ‘Suppose I’d better tell Mum.’
Mum cries when I open the email on the computer downstairs and show her the picture. She touches the screen, caressing the image of Alice. ‘My darling Alice,’ she says several times. ‘I can’t wait to hold her for real.’
‘She’s bringing her friend,’ I say gently. ‘Did you read that bit?’
‘Yes. It’s fine. If that’s what she wants, then I don’t mind at all. Whatever makes Alice happy.’
I exchange a look over the top of Mum’s head with Luke. He gives me the eyes which say to let it go. That’s one of the reasons I love Luke. He knows what I’m thinking without me even saying a word. He knows I’m thinking Mum is perhaps being a little more soppy than I expected and he can probably guess that I’m wondering whether I should say anything to her. From the small shake of his head, clearly, Luke thinks not.
‘Marion, would you like me to print the email and photo for you?’ he says.
‘Oh, would you, Luke? That would be wonderful. I mean, it’s lovely that emails are so instant, but you can’t beat holding a letter in your hand.’ Mum smiles gratefully at Luke and then turns to me. ‘I’m going to put it with all of Alice’s other things.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ I say, knowing she’s referring to a small black suitcase, where she has kept Alice’s favourite dress, some of her old cuddly toys, like the brown teddy bear who has lost its eyes and the bunny rabbit in the blue jacket like Peter Rabbit, her nightdress with ladybird print, her book about the zoo, anything that provided a connection to her daughter, in fact. There’s also a small stash of presents Mum has bought every birthday and Christmas.
Luke prints out the email and photograph and Mum goes off to her room with it. Luke stands behind me and massages my shoulders. ‘She’s bound to be a bit emotional. It’s a lot for her to take in. And you.’ He turns me to face him. ‘Are you okay, yourself?’
I nod. ‘Yeah. If Mum’s happy, then I am.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘I am happy. It’s just …’ I hesitate, not wishing to sound like I’m put out by my sister coming on the scene and displacing me. Luke says nothing as he waits for me to continue. ‘It’s just all happening quite fast and I’m not sure about this friend coming, if I’m honest. Seems a bit of an odd thing to do when you’re going to meet your family for the first time.’
‘It is a little odd, but let’s try to relax and go with the flow, eh? Perhaps Alice just wants a bit of moral support.’
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ I say.
‘I have no control over it,’ Luke says. ‘Alice is making plans to come over, whether we like it or not. So, we had better get used to it and embrace it, that’s all I’m saying. I’m sure everything will be all right.’
‘I wish I had your laid-back attitude.’
‘Clare, Babe. I know you must be feeling all sorts of things. Christ, I know I am and she’s not even my sister, but I’ve invested the time and emotion in Alice too. Not on your sort of scale, granted, but all those times we’ve tried to find her, to track her down. The money we’ve spent … okay, you’ve spent, trying to find her. And now, that’s all behind us. She’s found us. You’re getting your sister back, your mum is getting her daughter back, I’m getting a sister-in-law and the kids are getting an aunty. Let’s concentrate on the good things.’
‘Speaking of the kids,’ I say looking up at the ceiling as I hear the sound of feet cross the landing and descend the staircase. ‘Sounds like Hannah is up.’
I put on a brave smile as I take the girls out for what is turning into a brunch. Luke is right. I must think of the good things, the positives. My little sister is coming home. Yet, despite this mantra, I can’t shake the disquiet that has settled within me.
Chapter 7
The next few weeks pass quickly and I’m surprised at how fast events move. I had anticipated that there would be a gradual exchange of emails and possibly some phone calls before Mum and Alice decided it was time to meet in person. In my mind, it would be at least two or three months but, no, in two more emails, they decide they want to meet sooner rather than later. In person, straight off. No phone calls, no Skype.
‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’ I ask Mum, the evening before Alice’s arrival, as Mum goes into Alice’s bedroom to make sure the room is tidy and ready to welcome her. I had suggested to Mum that she redecorate the room, but she had insisted the baby-pink walls and the polka-dot curtains were to remain. She was convinced Alice would remember them. I want Alice to remember them, if only for Mum’s sake. I wonder whether I should prime her first, but decide against it. I haven’t been involved in the emails. I don’t feel quite so connected to Alice yet.
‘It looks really nice, Mum,’ I say. ‘I’m sure Alice will love it, but don’t get upset if it takes her a while to remember things. It was a long time ago and she was very young.’
I place a hand on Mum’s shoulder and give a gentle squeeze.
‘It’s okay, love,’ says Mum. ‘I know it may be a bit difficult, and even upsetting, but I’m prepared for it. I’m not as naive as you may think.’
We go into the guest room across the landing and take a cursory glance at the room. Everything is in place for our additional house guest. Fresh towels are on the end of the bed, a spare dressing gown and some toiletries. ‘It looks like a swanky hotel,’ I say.
‘Do you think it will be okay?’
‘Of course. I’d be delighted if I was staying in a room like this.’ I check my watch. ‘It’s late. We’d better get to bed. We have to be at Heathrow for seven-thirty.’
Despite encouraging Mum to get a good night’s sleep, I don’t sleep well myself and am somewhat relieved when the alarm goes off at four-thirty. Mum is already waiting in the kitchen, obviously suffering the same pre-meeting nerves as I am. We creep quietly out of the house so as not to disturb Luke and the girls. I feel as if I’ve hardly seen Luke the last couple of weeks. Since his trip to America, he’s been pretty much locked away in his studio all day and all night. He came back enthusiastic to get the London commission finished so he could start on the Miami commission.
‘How’s Luke getting on with his work?’ asks Mum.
I focus on the road ahead. ‘Really well, thanks,’ I say. ‘This could be a big break for him. We’re talking several thousand pounds. This American client is all over Luke. Loves his work.’ I realise I’m rambling slightly. I always feel very defensive about Luke with Mum when it comes to his artwork and money. At the back of my mind, I’m aware that she doesn’t totally approve of our set-up. She’s behind me having a career, a successful one that preserves my independence, but she’s not so keen on me supporting Luke. She once told me that supporting Luke financially was a ransom note. It would keep me tied to him and the girls; that I’d never be able to strike out on my own should I need to.
I know she’s thinkin
g of what happened between her and Dad. Mum had been wise when it came to money. She had her own income from her career as a teacher and from the money she had inherited. She had always kept it separate from Dad, she told me, who was wealthy and could support himself. Financially, neither needed the other. Turned out it was just as well. Mum might have been left stranded emotionally but financially she could survive – and survive comfortably.
‘That sounds promising,’ says Mum, breaking my thoughts. ‘It could take some of the pressure off you.’
‘I’m not under any pressure.’
‘No, but you know what I mean. It will be great if Luke can earn the equivalent to a decent wage.’
‘Mum, please. Not now.’
‘I’m just saying, you won’t have to feel so responsible financially for everyone. It’s good to have your own independence, both of you.’
‘Like you did. In case something goes wrong. That’s what you’re saying, aren’t you?’ I can’t help feeling more than a little irritated at the comment and it prickles me into a terse reply. I can feel the static coming off Mum. I sneak a look at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s staring straight ahead, but I can see her body is tense.
‘Yes. I do, actually,’ she says.
‘Mum, me and Luke are fine. We’ve been happily married all this time. We’ve known each other since we were at school. If something was going to happen, I’m sure it would have by now.’
‘But you don’t really know that. Sometimes being complacent is the worst thing. You don’t see it coming and it blindsides you.’
We drive along in silence for a few minutes. I can feel the weight of Mum’s words. I know she is looking out for me. You don’t stop being a mum just because your kids are grown up and married with their own family. I know Mum is fond of Luke, but he’s not her own flesh and blood so she’s bound to be biased. I’ll probably be just the same when the girls grow up and get boyfriends. I pick my next words carefully and say them with equal care.
‘What happened to make Dad leave?’
Mum has never told me the exact reason why Dad decided to take Alice on holiday on his own. Although, in hindsight, we both realise that to Dad it was never a holiday – it was always going to be for ever.
‘Your Dad didn’t want to stay with me any more,’ replies Mum. ‘You know that.’
‘But you’ve never told me why,’ I press. Somehow it seems important that I know now. Maybe it’s because Alice is coming home. Surely she will want to know.
‘It was a long time ago,’ says Mum. ‘I have no intention of picking old scars and wounds. I don’t want to dwell in the past. We have a future to look forward to with Alice.’
‘But she might ask you. What will you tell her?’
‘Exactly what I’ve just told you. Now, please, Clare, I don’t want to talk about it any more. It’s a corrosive subject and it will eat you away if you allow it.’ She pauses and then lets out a small sigh. ‘I don’t want it to poison you, like it has me. I’ve never wanted that for either of my girls. All I want is for us to be happy now.’
I let the subject go just like I always do when we get to this point.
The flight from Orlando arrives on time and Mum and I wait patiently at arrivals, scanning the throng of passengers who make their way through the glass doors.
A family of four, a couple in their thirties with their two small children. The mum is carrying the toddler and the dad is pushing the trolley laden with suitcases, a child of about five tags along, holding onto the trolley. A man in a business suit with a small carry-on case in one hand, a briefcase in the other, early-morning stubble grazing his chin. He marches through, not looking for anyone, eyes straight ahead. He’s obviously done this journey before, it’s not new to him, there’s no excitement in being in the UK. I wonder idly if he’s American or British.
I see a young woman with dark hair round the corner and for a moment I think it’s Alice, but as she comes into view, I see she’s with a guy. They have backpacks and are wearing shorts and hoodies. The girl’s face lights up and she nudges the boyfriend as she points ahead. I look over and see a middle-aged woman waving back. The passengers file through but still no sign of Alice and Martha.
‘They would have emailed if they had missed their flight, wouldn’t they?’ says Mum.
‘Relax, Mum, I’m sure they won’t be long now. You know what it’s like getting through passport control.’
‘Do you think Alice has an American or British passport?’
‘I don’t know. I suppose it depends whether she took American citizenship or not.’
Mum nods and I can see a look of sadness flick across her face. ‘It’s the little details that are a painful reminder I don’t know my own daughter. I should know things like that.’
‘Hey, Mum. Don’t be getting yourself all upset, now. We have the next few weeks to find out all these things.’ Mum smiles and I can see her making a conscious effort to dismiss the melancholy thought.
I turn my attention back to the arriving passengers. A young woman with long, wavy brunette hair appears and I’m just about to dismiss her and pass my gaze on to the other passengers when something makes me do a double-take. Mum grabs my arm at the same time.
‘There!’ she says and waves. ‘Alice!’
The young woman looks up and looks in our direction. She looks nervous. I smile broadly and wave too. I look beyond her, but she seems to be travelling alone, no sign of her friend. She begins to walk towards us, her stride quickens with every step. She breaks into a small run. Mum leaves my side and is running towards her. The sight of them makes me want to cry. Mum is crying already. They throw their arms around each other and stand there, lost in their own world, oblivious to everything and everyone around them. Mum pulls away, holds Alice’s face between her hands, cherishing every feature. She kisses her cheek, lots of times. They look at each other and laugh.
Then Mum is gesturing towards me and, with her arm around her daughter’s shoulder, she brings Alice over to me. I see those beautiful blue eyes; they are even bluer than I remember. I’m momentarily thrown back to the day she left, when those same eyes pleaded with me from the doorway of the living room. I can feel my chest tighten and my throat wants to close. I take a breath of air. I step forward and, within seconds, my darling little sister is holding me and I’m holding her.
‘Oh, Alice. You’ve come home,’ I hear myself whispering. All the doubts for the past few weeks seem to wash away with the tears that stream down my face.
Alice squeezes me back hard. ‘Hi, Clare. I can’t believe I’m actually here. All the years I’ve thought about you. It was like you and Mom weren’t real. And now, it’s like my dreams have come to life.’
She has a strong Southern twang and, for some reason, it surprises me. I suppose, in my mind, I expected her to speak just like me. ‘Come on, let’s get to the car,’ I say, wiping my face dry with a tissue Mum has pushed into my hand. She’s done the same with Alice. The three of us mop our tears. I pick up Alice’s suitcase and then suddenly remember her friend. ‘Where’s your friend – Martha?’ I look back towards the arrival doors. ‘I thought she was coming with you.’
Alice waves her hand. ‘Oh, yeah, sorry. Last-minute change of plan. She couldn’t make it in the end. So, I’m afraid, it’s just me.’ She grins and gives a shrug. ‘Hope that’s okay?’ The smile disappears and she looks concerned. ‘Sorry, I should have let you know, but in all the excitement, I clean forgot.’
Mum slips her arm in Alice’s. ‘It’s okay, darling. No need to apologise. It doesn’t make any difference at all. We’re just glad you still came.’
‘Oh, there was nothing on this earth that was gonna make me miss coming to see you, Mum.’ She emphasises the last word, which sounds odd with the American accent, and snuggles her head onto Mum’s shoulder. ‘It is all right to say “Mum” isn’t it?’
Mum kisses the top of Alice’s head. ‘Of course, my darling. There is nothing that would
make me happier.’ They walk past me, once again back in their own world. I watch them for a minute, unsure of the odd, uncomfortable feeling that has wriggled inside me. Maybe I’m just not used to hearing anyone else call my own mother ‘Mum’. I follow on behind them.
The journey home goes quickly. Mum sits in the front and Alice behind me as I take the wheel. Mum is asking her polite questions, like how was her journey, has she had something to eat, has work been okay about letting her have time off? Safe subjects. Alice answers and asks questions in return. Does Mum drive, does she work, what are her hobbies? More safe subjects.
Mum digs out the computer printout of the photo Alice sent. It’s slightly creased and a bit crumpled around the edges. ‘Thank you for the photograph,’ she says flattening it out on her knee. ‘Did you bring any more with you? Any of you growing up over the years?’
I know Mum had asked Alice this in her most recent email. I glance in the rear-view mirror at Alice. She catches my eye and pulls a face that tells me she didn’t.
‘Oops, sorry,’ she says to Mum. ‘You know what? I have this awful feeling I left the photo album I made up for you on the table.’ She slaps her hand to her forehead. ‘Sorry, I’m so dumb at times.’
‘That’s okay, don’t worry,’ says Mum. I can tell Mum is disappointed and her upbeat answer is a ruse.