Ten Little Words

by Leah Mercer

  Jude smiled and stood up beside him. ‘With pleasure.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  ELLA

  While my mother and Bertie chatted on the next bench over, Angus and I watched the lights of the town blink on and off in the darkened night. I breathed in his warmth, thanking God we’d finally found him and Bertie . . . or they had found us.

  ‘What took you guys so long to get here?’ I asked in a low voice, not wanting to interrupt my mother and Bertie. ‘I tried to call you.’

  Angus made a face. ‘We were about to leave the hospital, but Bertie started to feel a bit dizzy so they wanted to check all his vitals again. Thank God he had me as his emergency contact number, or he would have been there by himself.’ He shook his head. ‘I tried to get him into a hotel to rest up until morning, but he insisted on coming here. I knew he wouldn’t relax until he did, so . . .’

  ‘My mum was the same,’ I said. ‘She wouldn’t leave until he came.’ I bit my lip, wondering what state Bertie was in right now. ‘Is he . . .’

  ‘He’s okay,’ Angus said. ‘He’s had a hard couple of days, but he seems to be clear right now. Did you tell your mum about his condition?’

  I nodded. ‘I did. And, Angus . . . I’m sorry for not jumping to help you. I . . .’ I sighed. ‘Well, I was worried Bertie wasn’t who I’d first thought him to be, and that threw me.’

  Angus tilted his head. ‘What do you mean?’

  I twisted towards him, meeting his steady gaze. And for the first time, I realised I did want to open up to someone. ‘Ever since my mum left, I’ve had a really hard time connecting with people.’ I shifted on the bench, thinking of Aunt Carolyn, Rob, everyone at work, my neighbour . . . of all the people who’d tried so hard to interact with me and who I’d turned away. I’d told myself I didn’t need anyone, but maybe that was true: in my self-contained, closed-off state, I didn’t. But once those ten little words had reached out to me, they sent me on a journey where I did need to connect with others – if nothing more than to learn the truth about my mother. And now that I knew that truth, I didn’t want to hide away any more.

  ‘Bertie was the first person in a long time I felt comfortable with. Well, Bertie and you.’ My words hung in the air, and my cheeks coloured.

  ‘I trusted Bertie and his love for my mother,’ I continued. ‘But then, well . . . things got a little complicated, and it scared me. I thought that I’d been wrong about him, and it made me close up again.’ I took a breath. ‘I’ll fill you in on all the finer details later. But the one thing I need to say is that I do want to be open now. I want to connect. With you.’

  My last words came out as a whisper, and I could barely hear them over the pounding of my heart. For a split second, I wanted to take them back. What if Angus was just being nice, and that spark I’d felt between us was all in my mind? But I knew that however he responded, I didn’t want to spend years of my life alone, like my mum and Bertie had.

  Angus took my hand and squeezed it, and happiness gushed into me. ‘I want to connect with you, too,’ he said, his lips curving in a gentle smile.

  I stared down at our entwined hands, my heart full of hope. No matter what lay ahead, I hadn’t closed myself off. I’d given us a chance – for love, for life.

  We sat listening to the waves lap the sea wall as the stars peered down from above us. Finally, the scuffle of feet made us turn.

  ‘Ella.’ My mother’s voice cut through the darkness, and I shook my head. I still couldn’t believe she was here. That she was alive, and she was standing right in front of me. ‘Ella, I have something to tell you.’

  I gazed up at the her, wondering what else this day could reveal.

  ‘Bertie is your father. We can be sure of that now.’ Her voice was clear and certain.

  I stood, feeling my legs shake beneath me. I’d gone from believing my father was dead, to finding out Bertie was my father, to thinking he might not be, to hearing this. I wasn’t sure what I could grasp on to now. ‘How do you know? I thought you said . . .’ My voice trailed off.

  My mother smiled. ‘Frank couldn’t have children. It had to have been Bertie who got me pregnant.’

  Something lifted inside of me, a heaviness I was strong enough to carry if I had to, but now didn’t need to. I hadn’t been the result of an attack. I’d been the result of love. It didn’t change what had happened in the past, but the knowledge made me feel light and almost giddy, as if I might float away.

  ‘I met you first as your mother’s daughter, Ella,’ Bertie said, his voice sombre yet his eyes full of joy. ‘And I’m beyond thrilled to meet you now as your father.’ He reached out a hand and I took it in mine. Then, I gripped my mother’s hand.

  The loop had closed. The three of us were connected, through love and blood.

  Through those ten little words.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  ELLA

  ‘There’s one last person I need to see.’ My mother’s voice broke the still air. ‘I need to see my sister. To explain everything . . . and to say thank you. I’ve caused her – and you and Bertie – so much pain over the years. It’s too late to change that. But maybe if I explain . . . maybe she’ll understand. I can only hope that she won’t turn me away, although I wouldn’t blame her.’ Her face tightened, and I could see how much my aunt’s forgiveness meant to her. I couldn’t offer her that, but I did know that Aunt Carolyn would never send my mother away; that she was keen to keep my mother’s memory alive. The advert she’d placed every year was proof of that.

  ‘That advert,’ I began. ‘The one with the ten words. The one that started me on this journey.’ I paused, placing a hand on my mother’s arm. ‘It was Aunt Carolyn. She was the one who put it in the paper.’

  Both Bertie and my mother turned towards me in surprise.

  ‘Carolyn.’ The name left my mother’s lips as a shuddering exhale. ‘Those words . . . our mother used to say them to us. It was something that held us together, wrapping us into a neat, protected bundle . . . until she died. I never said them again until Bertie . . . and then you.’ Her brow creased. ‘But why? Why would she do that? Did she think I was still alive?’

  ‘She told me that placing the advert was a way of remembering you,’ I said, watching tears form in my mother’s eyes. ‘That every year she’d travel all the way to the newspaper office in London because you’d never got the chance to go there.’

  My mother was silent, but I could feel her body trembling under my hand.

  ‘Come on,’ I said softly. ‘Let’s go. I know she’ll be thrilled to see you.’ I took my mother’s arm to move forward, but she held back.

  ‘Should we ring first?’ she asked. ‘Even if she will be glad to see me, showing up after all these years might be, well . . . I don’t want to give her too much of a fright.’

  I nodded, thinking it might be a good idea to call, especially given Aunt Carolyn’s health condition. ‘I’ll ring now,’ I said, sliding my mobile from my pocket. I paused for a minute before pulling up her number, shaking my head in wonder. I was about to tell her what I’d longed to say for years: that she’d been wrong to believe my mother was dead. My mother was alive. My mother was here.

  But I couldn’t even start to conjure up any sense of triumph over Aunt Carolyn’s steadfast belief in my mother’s death. In her own way, my aunt had felt the loss as keenly as I had – felt it still, even after all these years, resulting in her annual pilgrimage to London.

  I hit ‘call’ and held my breath, my pulse quickening as my aunt’s cheery ‘hello’ echoed down the line.

  ‘Aunt Carolyn? It’s Ella.’ I paused, holding the words in my head, savouring them until I was ready to let them go. I’d buried them, pummelled them, tried my best to eradicate any thought, then covered them with anger, but now . . . ‘It’s my mum. She’s alive – she’s with me, here on the promenade. We’re on our way to you.’

  There was silence on the other end, and fear flashed through me. Was my aunt ok
ay? Had my news been too much of a surprise? ‘Aunt Carolyn? Are you all right?’ Angus shot me a worried look, then reached out to take my arm. I’d almost forgotten he was there, but I was so pleased he was.

  ‘I’m all right,’ Aunt Carolyn said. ‘Just a bit . . . shocked. I never . . . I need to sit down for a moment.’ I could hear her pulling out a chair, then the low tones of Rob’s voice behind her asking what was happening. ‘But . . . Where is she? How did you find her? Was it the article?’

  ‘We’re on our way to you now. We can explain everything then,’ I said. ‘But if you need more time, we can head to a restaurant for a bite to eat first.’

  ‘No, no.’ Aunt Carolyn’s voice was vehement, and I could just picture her shaking her head with that no-nonsense expression. ‘I can’t believe it. I can’t believe she’s here, but I don’t need more time. How could I wait any longer? It’s already been years.’

  I nodded, even though I knew she couldn’t see me – my throat was too tight to say any words. Silence fell between us.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Aunt Carolyn’s voice was soft. ‘How are you doing with all of this?’

  I paused, trying to get a hold on what I was feeling. So many emotions were swirling through me, from joy to disbelief. The one thing I did know was that, for the first time in years, I was all right.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, and even though I’d said that to my aunt a million times before, this time it was different. This time, I was more than fine. ‘We’ll see you soon.’

  I hung up and met my mother’s anxious gaze. ‘Aunt Carolyn can’t wait to see you.’

  My mum drew in a shaky breath, a smile slowly spreading over her face. ‘Shall we call a taxi?’

  Bertie shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve been waiting all these years to walk along the prom with you again. I’m not going to get in a taxi now. Come on, let’s go.’ He took my mother’s arm, and the two of them made their way down the pavement, their bodies merging into one shape in the darkness.

  Angus and I followed behind, a younger version of the couple up ahead. He took my arm and I leaned into him, loving how the warmth of his body filtered into mine. Moving slowly, it felt like it took forever to reach Aunt Carolyn’s house, and yet when we stood in front of my aunt’s door, it felt like no time at all . . . like we were outside the boundaries of the world around us.

  Angus paused. ‘Would you rather I let you all talk in peace?’ he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. ‘I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.’

  I tightened my grip on his arm. He was part of this story – a part of our lives, no matter what the future held for us.

  ‘Stay,’ I said, and he grasped my hand as footsteps approached. I swallowed as the door opened, preparing for the past and present to come together. No matter what complications the future may hold – how lives might collide; how illness might take away precious memories; how tragic events could spin us off in different directions – we were all connected by an invisible wire of love.

  And when we wanted to – when we chose to – all we had to do was follow that line home again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  JUDE

  Jude clutched Bertie’s hand as she waited for Carolyn to open the door, feeling like she was in a dream. She couldn’t believe she was in Hastings now, with her daughter and Bertie, back in the house she’d run to after leaving Edinburgh . . . where she’d lain on the sofa and tried to make sense of everything; where she’d tried to deal with becoming a mother; where her sister had done everything she could to help her.

  But it still hadn’t been enough. It never could have been, although Carolyn hadn’t known that then, of course. Jude had abandoned her daughter for Carolyn to raise, leaving her to believe Jude was dead. After the loss of their own parents, it was almost unforgiveable.

  Would Carolyn ever be able to forgive her? The advert gave her hope she wouldn’t be turned away, but Jude couldn’t be sure of anything more. She just knew she had to try to explain. The truth was the only thing she could say.

  Carolyn’s face appeared around the side of the door, and Jude’s eyes widened as her brain tried to merge the image of her youthful sister with the older woman standing before her now – an older woman who, funnily enough, looked a lot like her: short dark hair threaded with grey, sensible shoes and nondescript clothes. The years had brought them closer together in appearance than they ever could have guessed.

  Before Jude could say anything, her muscles propelled her forward and into Carolyn’s arms. She gripped her sister, breathing in the same talc her mother used to wear, praying Carolyn wouldn’t push her away. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d hugged – maybe not since that awful night their parents had died. Jude had pushed her away ever since, despite her sister’s best attempts.

  But now . . . Jude lifted her head and stepped back, feeling her cheeks wet with tears. Tears brimmed in Carolyn’s eyes, too, and Jude noticed the rest of the group move past them into the lounge to give the two sisters a moment alone.

  ‘Carolyn, I . . .’ Her voice faltered. What could she say to the woman who had always been there for her – the sister who had raised her child when she couldn’t? How could any words express the overwhelming gratitude she felt and the sorrow at the pain she had caused?

  Carolyn cleared her throat, then took a tissue box and held it out to Jude after blowing her own nose. Jude couldn’t help smiling. After all these years, Carolyn was still taking care of her.

  ‘Thank you,’ Jude said, wiping her eyes. She met her sister’s gaze. ‘Thank you, for everything.’ It didn’t even come close to what she was feeling, but she was desperate to show Carolyn how grateful she was. It was a start – a small one – and she knew she’d never stop trying in the years ahead.

  Carolyn’s eyes welled up again, and she swallowed. ‘I thought you were dead. I thought you were gone and I’d failed you. That I couldn’t help you when you needed it most.’

  Guilt shot through Jude. She’d caused so much hurt to those around her, but she’d been in so much pain back then that she hadn’t been able to help even herself. ‘No one could have helped me, Carolyn,’ she said, touching her sister’s arm. ‘Not even the best doctor in the world. I . . . I needed to go. I needed to leave. That was the only way I could carry on.’

  Carolyn leaned against a chair, her face so pale that for a minute Jude was afraid she might faint. ‘What did make you come back? Was it Ella’s article?’

  ‘I did see Ella’s article, yes,’ Jude said. ‘But if it hadn’t been for that classified advert – the advert you placed – then Ella wouldn’t have started her search in the first place.’ She paused. ‘I’m here because of you . . . because you never forgot me. You may have thought I was dead, but you never let me go. Not in your heart.’ Tears streamed down her cheeks now and she let them fall unchecked, noticing that Carolyn was weeping too. And this time, it was Jude who handed her sister a tissue.

  ‘Come,’ she said, taking Carolyn’s arm. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’ She led her sister into the lounge and over to where Bertie was sitting.

  ‘This is Bertie,’ Jude said simply, and Carolyn recoiled at the name. ‘He never hurt me. He’d never hurt me.’ Her heart squeezed at the lies of the past; the protective walls she’d thrown up around her. It was time to knock those all down. ‘He is Ella’s father, though – that much is true. He’s part of our family.’ She met Carolyn’s eyes. ‘I’ll explain everything later, I promise.’

  Carolyn smiled, despite her evident confusion. ‘We have plenty of time.’

  Jude and Carolyn sat down on the sofa, and Jude thought how odd it was that, all these years later, she had brought Bertie home to meet Carolyn – along with her daughter and Angus, a man she didn’t know but could see meant something to Ella. They were all here under one roof after so many years and secrets had separated them.

  I am always with you. I will always be here.

  Those ten little wor
ds had made her feel safe, had saved her, and had found her again, but it wasn’t the words that held the power. It was the people – the ones who’d hoped, longed and loved.

  The ones she’d never let go of again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  ELLA

  Six months later

  I stood in the middle of the gallery, breathing in the silence and trying to quell the nerves inside of me. In just a few minutes, the doors to the exhibition would open and people from all over Hastings and beyond would pour in to ‘Sounds of the Pier’. The past few months had been crazy, trying to get everything just right, from arranging the banks of headphones, to selecting the clips, to choosing accompanying photos and material that showcased not just the pier, but also the surrounding areas. But as I gazed around the airy room filled with the history of my hometown, I couldn’t be prouder at what I’d achieved – what my whole team had achieved, because there was no way I could have done this on my own. Through endless meetings and discussions – many that had spilled over into drinks at the pub, which we’d jokingly dubbed ‘the conference room’ – we’d managed to pull off something really special.

  And now it was time to show everyone else.

  ‘Okay,’ I said to the security guard, my voice trembling with anticipation. ‘I’m ready.’

  She nodded and swung open the doors. Almost immediately, the room was engulfed in a flood of people tugging on headphones, peering at photos, and sharing their own memories. I stood still for a second, unable to move, savouring the moment when the exhibit finally came to life. Without people, it was nothing – an empty shell, waiting to be filled up. I smiled, thinking how my life had been like that, too. Now that I’d let people in, I felt more alive than ever.