by Leah Mercer
What would Carolyn say when Jude turned up? Would she ever be able to forgive her? And then explaining to Ella . . . There were so many questions and so many unknowns. But when was life ever a straight line? When was it ever black and white? Only one thing was certain: she needed to do this.
The train pulled into Hastings, and Jude’s eyes widened in surprise. The station looked nothing like it had all those years ago, when she’d returned home from Edinburgh, trying to flee from the horror of what was growing inside of her. It was as if she was arriving in a completely different place . . . until she left the carriage and breathed in the air. The salty tang unlocked a tide of memories inside her, and she had to stop and steady herself before she could carry on. She couldn’t let them pull her under now. She had to keep moving.
But to where? she wondered as she walked past the taxi rank and the bus stop. She couldn’t just turn up at Carolyn’s out of the blue, could she? Her sister would be shocked and, anyway, Jude didn’t even know if she still lived there . . . although she couldn’t imagine her and Rob moving out of the house they’d so lovingly renovated. That place had been the child they’d never had . . . until Ella, anyway.
Jude passed by the house she’d grown up in. She bit her lip, remembering her protests when Carolyn had said they’d need to sell the family home. That house was all Jude had left of her parents – even their memory was fading in her mind – and she’d fought tooth and nail to hang on to it, accusing her sister of wanting to use the money to chuck her out and build her own new house. She’d never even realised that they couldn’t afford to keep it any longer. Their parents had re-mortgaged it so many times that everything they’d got for selling it went back to the bank. There’d been nothing left for either Carolyn or Jude, and Carolyn had struggled for the two of them to get by on her teacher’s salary until Jude had been old enough to start contributing something of her own . . . not that she’d ever contributed much. God, she’d been a brat.
I really need to see my sister, Jude thought as she went down the hill towards the sea. She needed to say sorry, to say thank you, to do whatever she could to show that she knew how difficult it must have been, and that she realised how strong and brave her sister was to take on her, and then her baby. Carolyn had carried Jude’s life on top of her shoulders as well as her own, and now Jude needed to lift that burden from her.
The sea shimmered in the sunshine, and Jude couldn’t help but let her feet move towards the promenade. She breathed in deeply and wandered down it, trailing one hand along the railing and squinting against the sun. Her feet stopped, and she jerked herself from her reverie. This was it: her spot. The place where she’d sung, day after day, in the summer months. The spot where she’d dared to hope; dared to dream.
The place where she’d met Bertie and started on a trajectory that would change her life for ever.
She lifted a hand to touch the necklace, her fingers closing around the pendant. She’d come full circle – almost.
Now it was time to find her daughter.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
ELLA
I hurried along the promenade, my eyes sweeping the pavement and the beach for Bertie’s tall figure. The weather was glorious and the promenade was packed with workers eating their lunch, escaping the office to soak up the sun. Picnic blankets made blotches of bright colour on the beach, with dogs splashing in the waves and children digging in sand.
I stared at every person that passed, feeling slightly idiotic as I met their enquiring gaze. None of them was Bertie. Could he actually have made it all the way here? Despite Angus’s belief that he could, it was hard to imagine him travelling this far if his condition had deteriorated so much.
The hulk of the pier came into focus, and I slowed my steps. Sweat beaded on my brow and trickled down my back, and my mouth was dry. I leaned against the rail to catch my breath, automatically scanning the profile of the person beside me.
And everything stopped.
The noise, the heat of the sun beating down, the smell of the sea . . . all of that disappeared as the woman turned to face me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I could only stare, my mind whirling as I took in her features.
The deep-set eyes that had always seemed so sad. The slightly upturned nose. The dark curls now threaded with grey.
I struggled to assemble them into one picture; struggled to put them all together. I couldn’t, because that would mean . . . That would make this person . . .
Before I could say anything, I could see the same realisation dawn on her face. Her eyes widened and she lifted a hand to her throat. I stared at that hand, thinking of the times I’d clutched it, of how she’d stroked my hair, of how she’d held me and kept me safe. Time stretched, then snapped, suspending us in another place.
A place we could make our own.
‘Mum?’ The word sounded strange in my voice, as if it had been stuck there for a very long time, growing rusty with disuse, but still waiting to be released. Still there, buried underneath it all, despite myself.
I couldn’t begin to make out the emotions that flitted across her face: disbelief, then fear, then something like excitement and hope – emotions I was sure were reflected in my own features.
‘Ella?’ Her voice was a whisper. ‘Oh my God. Ella.’ She reached out to touch my cheek, then dropped her hand as if she wasn’t sure she could. As if she was afraid that I might disappear in front of her.
I knew exactly how she felt. I felt the same, like she was a mirage that could vanish at any instant. It didn’t seem possible that she was in front of me now. It didn’t seem possible that maybe, after everything that had happened, I had been right to hope.
‘What . . .’ I swallowed, grasping for anything to say as a million questions clamoured at my mind. What had she been doing all this time? Why had she decided to come back?
My mum smiled, lines radiating out from her eyes. She was no longer the woman my mind’s eye had pictured all these years, and I tried to match the image with the woman in front of me.
‘I came to see you,’ she said simply. ‘It wasn’t me who placed the advert you saw, but once I read that article in the paper, I knew that I had to find you. I had to tell you that I am here – that I always have been, even when I didn’t know it myself.’ Her voice rang with conviction, and her words burrowed deep into my heart. I couldn’t have stopped them from lodging there, even if I’d wanted to.
But I still couldn’t move. I still couldn’t grasp she was here.
‘The day that I left you,’ she continued, her eyes locked on me as if she could hold me in place, ‘I truly believed I was doing the best thing. I might have been your mother, but I wasn’t what you needed. I just . . . I couldn’t be.’ She swallowed, and I wanted to reach out; to tell her I knew why she’d been in such pain. Every bit of me was frozen, though. Every part of me was focused on her words – an explanation I’d waited years to hear.
Words that might fill up that empty space inside of me.
‘I told myself Carolyn would be a million times better at being a mother than I could ever be, and I went to the beach. I was going to walk into the sea, and that would be that. I thought it would be better for you, better for me, better for everyone.’ She turned towards the sea, a faraway look in her eyes. ‘But in the end, I couldn’t. I went to London and tried to get through each day – make it from morning to night, that was as much as I could face. Days passed, then months, then years. I told myself the more time went by, the easier it would be. And I almost believed it, too.’
She faced me again. ‘But that wasn’t true. It never could be. Because love can’t be buried under the weight of time. It’s not something you forget, or that you can root out. No matter what, it’s there, just waiting until the ground has thawed and it can bloom again.’
I breathed her words in, feeling in my heart how right she was. I’d tried everything to stop myself from loving her, and yet . . . I could feel my heart stirring, as if an animal was
awakening after a long hibernation. I could feel love seeping into me once more.
‘I can’t say sorry. Sorry will never make up for what I did to you by leaving, I know.’ She drew in air, her eyes glistening. ‘Just know that those ten words I always said were true. I may not have been here for you physically, but you never left my heart. I loved you – love you still – and nothing could ever change that. Nothing.’
‘I love you, too, Mum,’ I said, stepping towards her. I don’t know who reached out first, but we were in each other’s arms. It was so unlike the embraces she’d given me as a child, yet so familiar at the same time. We had both been through so much. The years had separated us – pain had separated us – yet I knew she was right. Time had not extinguished the love between us. And finally, here we were, together.
‘Do you want to sit?’ Mum asked hesitantly, as if she was still afraid I’d run off. She pointed to a bench beside us, which had just been vacated by three office workers.
I nodded, and we sank down on the sun-warmed wooden slats. As we crossed our legs, my gaze fell on my mother’s serviceable brown shoes, so different from the bare feet that I remembered . . . Yet another reminder that time had passed.
My mobile bleeped and I glanced at the screen. It was a text message from Angus, saying Bertie had been on the sleeper train. Angus had contacted Hastings police and he’d grabbed a morning flight to London. He was on the train to Hastings now, but he begged me to please keep an eye out. Guilt surged through me as I recalled my abrupt response. I’d ring him back and tell him—
I lifted my head, a thought entering my mind. I had to tell my mother that Bertie might be heading here.
‘Mum . . .’ This word still sounded foreign, but this time not as much. ‘I have to tell you something.’
My mother tilted her head. ‘And I have so much more to tell you.’
‘But I need to tell you this now.’ I shifted on the bench and scanned the promenade both ways, as if Bertie could be just seconds away. Given Angus’s message, he might be. I didn’t have time to waste.
‘Bertie might be coming here soon.’
‘Bertie?’ My mother’s face drained of colour, and my stomach clenched. I hated to think it, but given my mother’s reaction, it seemed Aunt Carolyn might be right. My father – Bertie – had hurt my mother. He was the reason she’d left without explanation. ‘He’s coming here? But how . . .’ Her voice trailed off and she put hand to her heart, her face so pale it almost matched the white clouds filtering in from the sea.
‘Come with me.’ I took her arm. ‘Aunt Carolyn’s isn’t far. We can be there in five minutes. You won’t have to see him.’
But my mother was shaking her head. ‘No. I’m through with running – through with hiding. I can’t do it any more. I won’t do it any more.’ She drew in a breath, almost vibrating with emotion. ‘I want to see him. I need to see him.’
I met her eyes, realising I’d just thought the same thing: we were done with hiding. We didn’t need to; we weren’t alone any longer.
This was our story. The two of us were entwined, and together we’d face my father.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
JUDE
Jude’s fingers clutched the heart pendant as she tried desperately to take everything in. Just a few hours earlier, she’d been holed up in a barren bedsit in London. Now, she was here. She’d found her daughter again . . . or maybe her daughter had found her. And Bertie might be on his way, too? Why?
She shook her head, trying to calm the volcano of emotion inside. Was it crazy to hope that maybe she could mend the rifts of the past? Could she finally say what had happened to drive her away – from both Bertie and Ella? She’d already hurt them so much. Would the truth hurt them even more – could it hurt them even more, any more than she had?
Jude turned to look at her daughter. Her head was down as she clicked away on her mobile. Ella was so beautiful, although she could see that her daughter hadn’t a clue how lovely she was. Everything about her, from her short hair to her clothes to her sturdy shoes, was designed to hide herself away, to fade from sight. Jude understood that only too well. But even with those measures, Ella couldn’t cover up her gorgeous long-lashed eyes, her milky skin and the strong jaw that reminded Jude so much of Bertie. She pushed out the other face that filled her mind, refusing to let it in.
He was gone. All she wanted to see – all she did see – in her daughter now was love.
Ella glanced up to meet Jude’s gaze, and once again Jude felt a jolt that this woman in front of her was her daughter.
‘I need to call Bertie’s neighbour and let him know I haven’t seen him,’ Ella said. ‘He asked me to keep an eye out.’
‘Sure.’ Jude closed her eyes and leaned back, the questions still hammering in her head. How did Ella know Bertie’s next-door neighbour? Had she gone to see Bertie? How would she even know where he lived? The sun warmed her face as Ella made her phone call, stinging her cheeks as if she’d suddenly emerged from years of darkness.
‘Right.’ Ella’s voice rang in the air, and Jude opened her eyes. ‘I’ve talked to Angus, Bertie’s neighbour. He’s here in Hastings with Bertie.’ Jude felt her heart beat faster. ‘Bertie had a fall on the platform, and they took him to hospital. Angus was his emergency contact, so the hospital called him. They’re going to meet us here as soon as they can.’ Ella swivelled to face her. ‘I suggested maybe Aunt Carolyn’s place, but apparently Bertie was adamant they come here.’
Jude smiled. Of course Bertie would want to meet here, for the very reason that she had come to this place. It was where everything had started – where their life together had begun.
‘So how. . .’ Jude swallowed. ‘Did you meet up with Bertie – talk to him?’ Had Bertie asked her age? Had he noticed how much Ella looked like him? Oh God, did he think Ella might be his child? She could be, but . . .
Ella nodded. ‘I went up to Edinburgh after I found a box of letters from him.’
‘What box of letters?’ Jude asked, her brow furrowing. Bertie had never got in touch. He couldn’t, anyway – he’d had no idea where she was. Even if he’d guessed she was in Hastings, he wouldn’t have known where to write.
‘At Aunt Carolyn’s,’ Ella said. ‘They were all addressed to you at her house. I have them back at the flat, if you want to have a look.’
‘I would. Thank you.’ So Bertie had written, somehow finding out Carolyn’s address. Carolyn had followed Jude’s request and not passed them on. ‘And did he ask . . .’ Jude paused, choosing her words carefully. ‘Did he ask about your father?’
‘I told him my father was dead,’ Ella said, ‘and he seemed to accept it. He didn’t ask any more questions about it. I reckon he just wanted to think about his life with you. He made it sound idyllic, actually. But I’m not sure how clearly he remembers everything.’ She bit her lip. ‘Bertie has Alzheimer’s.’
Jude’s chest squeezed. Alzheimer’s? Bertie, who’d remembered the exact date and time they’d first met, was starting to lose his memories?
‘How bad is he?’ she managed to ask through the questions circling her brain. He must remember something, or he wouldn’t be on his way here.
‘Some days are better than others,’ Ella said. ‘Angus has been helping out a lot when things are bad. It sounds like he’s got worse in the past few weeks.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m not sure why he thinks you’re here, but he does believe you’re still alive. Angus says he’s been very confused and distressed lately.’ Ella touched her arm. ‘I found all of this out before I talked to Carolyn. If I’d known what had happened between you and Bertie, I never would have gone to see him.’
Jude tilted her head. What on earth had Carolyn said? She didn’t know the truth. What had she known?
Jude’s mind flashed back to her words from so long ago, when she’d told Carolyn to keep Bertie away from her – that she never wanted to speak to him again. It was the only way she could protect herself and him. And then all the night
mares she’d had, and the time Carolyn had asked if she’d been hurt . . . Oh, God.
But surely Carolyn wouldn’t tell Ella that Bertie had hurt her? They’d both agreed the best course of action was saying Ella’s father had died.
‘What exactly did she tell you?’ Jude held her breath.
‘That Bertie was abusive, and that you left him when you got pregnant.’ Ella’s voice was shaking. ‘He never knew he had a child, and you told me he was dead only to keep me from learning what had really happened.’
Jude stiffened, her heart plummeting. Poor Ella. Her poor, poor girl. She’d thought she’d protected Ella from the truth. What on earth had her lies done?
‘Carolyn only told me after the article appeared in the paper,’ Ella continued. ‘She was worried about me meeting up with Bertie again.’ She looked into Jude’s eyes. ‘I know you said you want to see him, but . . . are you sure?’
Jude stared at Ella, admiring her strength. Her daughter had been through terrible traumas, believing that her mother was dead and that her father had been capable of horrible actions. And yet here she was, not only accepting Jude back into her life, but caring about her. If Ella could do that, then Jude could be strong enough to tell both Bertie and Ella what had really happened.
There was nothing else she could do, anyway. She’d thought that by running she could escape those memories, but she’d never been more wrong. The past didn’t die, and it didn’t fade away. It lived on, affecting every action and emotion. You couldn’t escape – not physically and not emotionally . . . no matter how much alcohol or whatever else you tried. You could only be honest, open and keep loving the best you could, with all the cards on the table.
‘I’m sure.’ Jude had never been more certain. ‘He needs to know the truth, and so do you.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
ELLA