A lone tear escaped out of the corner of Alicia’s eye and travelled slowly over the contours of her cheek. She made no attempt to brush it away.
Fran raised herself from the depth of the seat and in slow motion bridged the gap that existed between them. As if by remote control she lowered herself down on to the sofa and reached for the graceful, trembling hand of her mother.
The two-hour drive from Hampstead brought clarity to Fran’s mind. The unit she had always felt excluded her actually included no one. Her parents had constructed a façade and then chosen to live behind it. It was made up of lies, misunderstanding and hostility and she didn’t want to live there any more.
It was hard to take in all the information she had learned in one day. She had no feelings for the figure in the photo either way. She felt no sense of loss for the woman who should have been her mother and she didn’t try to conjure any. Whatever story held the most truth, her past was her past. That Alicia was not her real mother helped and hindered her feelings. She resented the lies but she understood her distance more easily now. Many things of which she had not been aware had shaped her life before she’d even been born. It was time to stop living in the past and move on.
She knew that her relationship with Alicia, whatever that might be now, would never have a fairy-tale ending and she would never fully understand what she’d done wrong, but at least her own perception of the childhood events that had marked her could now be focused on truth and it was her choice, her decision, to move on and go forward. All the will in the world would not change the cold, sterile operating theatre that she’d grown up in, but it was now up to her to ensure it did not shape her future.
It was two in the morning when she pulled up outside her flat. Martine waited on the steps as Fran had asked her to. She made no effort to touch Martine and didn’t speak until they were inside the lounge. She then chose to busy herself making a percolator of coffee.
She sat away from Martine. ‘I don’t want to go into the details of the day just yet, but we do need to talk.’
‘You look just how you did before running away from me in London,’ Martine observed sadly.
Fran smiled. The decision that she was about to make would affect her for the rest of her life. Until now their relationship had been purely platonic. She’d been forced to examine and analyse her feelings about who and what she was and what she wanted to be. This process had been hindered because she’d never questioned her sexuality and had resigned herself to the fact that her muted responses to sex were due to the reality that she’d rarely received love and didn’t know how to return it. The label she’d placed on herself and would be placed by others had also caused her concern. Whether right or wrong, childish or not, she had been frightened of other people’s reactions. Now she had to decide which was more important: the need for constant approval or the chance to love and be loved.
‘Martine, I… umm…’
‘Please don’t say anything. Let me say something.’
Fran nodded. It could wait a few minutes.
Martine took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Fran could feel the tension she’d been holding inside.
‘I’ve been unable to concentrate all day wondering what you were doing, were you upset, were you stifled, were you coming back? Two months passed today, or so it seems.’ She bowed her head. ‘I wish I had the strength to save you the trouble of ending something that has never really had the chance to start, but I can’t. Not while there is even the smallest chance that I can persuade you to change your mind.’
Fran nodded. She knew the decision was hers. At this point she could still go back. A highly paid, well-respected job would not be difficult to find. She had not yet committed herself to any college or university. Everything could still return to normal, her safe life and the security of knowing what every day would bring.
It was time to decide if she wanted to go back or move forward into a life littered with unknown hazards, doubts and insecurities. She’d given up a career at which she excelled for a chance at a future reliant on a talent that may not even exist: it wasn’t something she could see, only feel.
She looked at Martine hard. ‘My life is changing every single day. I have no idea what tomorrow is going to bring. I’m a different person to the one you met in London and even I don’t know yet what it all means or what I’m going to do next. I only know that I’m sticking with it.’ She saw resigned acceptance settle on Martine’s pensive features.
Her voice remained calm. ‘I realise now that I was not scared of loving you because you’re a woman, I was just scared of loving full stop. When you meet my mother, you’ll understand.’
‘When I what?’ cried Martine.
Fran became aware of her own demeanour and began to laugh. ‘Oh dear, Kerry was right all those years ago! I do talk like her.’
She moved to sit beside Martine on the sofa. Still they did not touch.
‘There’s no need to treat me with kid gloves any more. I’m as whole as I’m ever going to be.’
She leaned across and caressed Martine’s cheek gently. This was not something she could control. While she had been at her parents’ she’d had the distinct feeling that her other half was here waiting for her. She’d never felt that before, all she’d had was herself, a solitary being that remained confined inside her and reached out to no one. But now she understood how Martine had felt once before; she knew how it felt to be missing a limb.
‘What I’m trying to say is that I’m ready,’ she whispered, as she placed her lips softly against Martine’s.
19
Kit & Fran
‘Surely it has to be your turn to buy,’ Fran said, rolling her eyes as they entered the dining car in which they had spent many an AA meeting. ‘After all, I’m a poor struggling artist with no means to support myself and a—’
‘Spare me the sob story and go grab that booth in the corner.’
Fran did as she was bid and took a moment to observe her friend. On the outside Kit had changed little. The black canvas jeans and T-shirts were occasionally replaced with a pair of stylish boot-cut trousers and a pastel coloured shirt. Her hair was still short but cut more softly around her face, framing the chocolate brown eyes that dared you to disagree.
Fran watched as a gentleman taller than Kit reached around her for a couple of packs of sugar on Kit’s right. His hand accidentally caught Kit’s elbow from behind. Instead of whirling around to face the threat behind her, ready for a battle, she simply turned her head and acknowledged his apology with a smile. No, it wasn’t the exterior of her friend that had undergone the biggest developments. It was the person within and Fran could see that from the other side of the room. Her demeanour was no longer dogged by wariness. It was as though every muscle in her body had collaborated and decided to give her a break. Fran still wasn’t sure what had provoked the peaceful composure that now shadowed her friend and she wondered if Kit would ever confide in her.
‘Don’t come again,’ Kit said, removing the cups from the trays. ‘This has cost me a packet.’
‘Jeez, you buy me one coffee and then you can’t stop bleating about it.’
‘Come on, tell me all the gossip. How is Mommy Dearest these days? Have you told her to shove all her Ming up her bloody great—’
‘Kit,’ Fran warned with a laugh. ‘Incidentally, at my father’s funeral she asked if we could visit Jamie together one day.’
‘You’re joking?’
Fran shook her head. ‘Apparently she knew all the time that my father had corresponded with the home.’
Eventually, one day she would let Alicia come with her but not yet. She was far too possessive of her time with her son to share him willingly. She had eight years to make up yet and because of that she never missed an opportunity to hug and kiss the eager child or tell him how much she loved him. She remembered her third visit when, unaware of their relationship, he’d asked in a quiet, tremulous voice if she was someone’s mummy. His hug
e brown eyes had waited for an answer as she’d urgently looked around the playing fields for Thelma to seek her guidance. Unable to see her amongst the children and families playing cricket, golf and football, Fran had tried to weigh up the importance of what she was about to say with Thelma’s words about his well-being ringing in her ears. But she knew, had known from the first day she laid eyes on her son, that she was not going anywhere. She would not desert him. She had only her own instincts to trust and she made her decision.
‘Yes, I’m your mummy,’ she had said shakily, frightened at what his reaction would be.
He had peered at her suspiciously while looking around at other families playing in the field. ‘Real mummy, all mine?’ he’d asked unsurely, bringing his face close to hers.
She had nodded emphatically. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I’m your mummy.’
Satisfied that this was true he had run away to tell Luke, his best friend, that he had a real mummy. Since then she had accompanied the school on trips to the safari park, funfair and waxworks museum, enjoying every minute of it. Her mother asked every time they spoke how Jamie was and Fran knew she was itching to visit him again but was waiting to be invited. Fran knew she would soon – but not yet.
‘How are things with you two?’
‘As good as they’ll ever be, I think. We’ll never be close like mother and daughter but at least we communicate. We can talk and, believe it or not, she has a wicked sense of humour that has been buried very deep. Since my father died, she’s changed. It’s as if she doesn’t have to keep up any type of pretence any more. She spent all those years pretending not to love him.’ Fran shook her head and thought of Martine. ‘I’ll never understand that.’
‘And what’s this about a trip to France?’
‘Yes, I was going to tell you. I’m going to spend some time in Paris to study. It’s the next step. I have to learn everything from the beginning but I’m excited. Although I wouldn’t want you to think you’re going to get rid of me that easily, Kit Mason. I’ll be commuting backwards and forwards, probably weekly, to see Jamie so I won’t be far away, but for art, Paris is the place to be.’
‘For lovers as well,’ Kit offered.
‘Martine is going to look into the possibility of opening a salon there. I mean, if any nationality worries about health and beauty it has to be the French…’
Martine’s face wafted into Fran’s mind. She’d never thought that such a connection with another person was possible. Sometimes she was sure that they spoke to each other without ever saying a word. They were spending more and more time together and had talked about living together permanently when they returned from France. They both knew it was a big step but none bigger than Martine meeting Alicia, a meeting which had taken place the previous week.
Alicia referred to and treated Martine as Fran’s friend. Fran knew that was the only level at which she was able to accept their relationship and was quite happy to play along. Happy, content and fulfilled, she didn’t need to ram her sexuality in Alicia’s face. Martine had won her over within minutes, talking about places in France that Alicia had visited as a child. Fran had watched them talk animatedly and she remained forgotten for a while, but she hadn’t minded. She loved them both.
Admitting that had been hard, especially where Alicia was concerned, but she no longer considered it a weakness. They were still learning, both of them. Fran now understood that Alicia had never received love and therefore knew not how to give it, but she was trying and that was all Fran could ask for.
‘Enough about me. What about you? How’s college?’
Kit groaned and shook her head, remembering enrolment day. She had found herself huddled into the corner, angered by the sight of dozens of smooth bodies running from class to class.
‘They looked so young. Though I was even younger than them when I first arrived in London. It was disgusting; all youth, innocence and Colgate smiles. I could smell the excitement and anticipation that surrounded them. It choked me.’
‘You’ll be fine once you get to know people.’
‘Yeah, I could go for sleepovers and slumber parties where we could swap stories. Sure, they’d love mine.’ Kit’s head fell into her hands.
‘You don’t have to tell everyone you meet your life story, Kit.’
‘I just feel that they’re all acting out Scene One. It’s too late for me to do that.’
‘I can lie to you if you want me to. I can try to convince you that all your bad times are over and the rest of your life will be plain sailing, but Kit, it’s probably not true.’ Fran’s tone softened. ‘These are hurdles. If they’re not hard, they’re not worth having.’
‘Is that a message off the Shreddies box again?’
‘You know that you’re going back when term starts so stop feeling sorry for yourself.’
‘Thanks for the pep talk. Don’t give up your day job.’
‘I’m trying to be honest with you. You’ve given up drink. You’re changing, Kit. Bit by bit you’re peeling off pieces of the old you and sending them back to London, where they belong.’ Fran smiled, devilishly. ‘Of course it’s hard starting college at your age but difficult as it is you won’t let it beat you.’
Kit nodded in acknowledgment of her friend’s words. No matter how hard it was she would not be beaten by anything again.
‘How’s the new job?’
Kit suddenly felt enthused. She had left her previous job, unable to work with Tyler after their last night together. Her trip to the employment office had resulted in an interview for a family business leasing and repairing vehicles. ‘It’s brilliant! The guys are great and I’m learning everything about the business. Eddie, the owner, is paying for my business administration course and I’m paying for the psychology course.’
‘Hmm… Not too sure that those two subjects go together.’
Kit shrugged. ‘I’m interested in both, which just goes to show the versatility of my starving brain.’
Fran pretended to yawn.
Silence settled between them and Kit pre-empted Fran’s next question.
‘No, I haven’t heard from him and it’s probably for the best.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
Kit thought for a moment and nodded. ‘I do love him, Fran. I’m not going to lie. I miss him terribly and wish he was still around. The last time we saw each other I had a choice. I know that I could have stopped him from leaving that night with a few simple words but no matter how much I wanted to say them I just couldn’t. Call it stubbornness, pig-headedness, call it anything you like, but ultimately the words wouldn’t come, which means I wasn’t ready to say them.
‘I know how much Mark wanted me to go with him to Leeds but I have to experience my own life first. I can’t just relinquish my independence so soon after the almighty fight to get it back. I’m not ready to rely on anyone but myself. I’ve made my life here now and this is where I want to stay for the time being.’
‘Could your feelings change in time?’
Kit nodded.
‘What if it’s too late? Perhaps he’ll meet someone else,’ Fran said, gently.
‘I think about that possibility all the time. Some days it makes me tremble with fear and I’m tempted to give in but that’s not fair. I wouldn’t do that to him. I have to do what’s right for me and if that means that Mark meets someone else, then I’ll have to deal with that when the time comes.’
Fran sat back in her chair and clapped her hands. ‘Good grief, woman! You’ve come a long way from the aggressive, self-centred, demanding urchin I met six months ago.’
Kit fluttered her eyelashes in response. She chose not to tell her friend that, nestled in the side pocket of her handbag, was an address in Leeds and directions of how to get there. The knowledge of Mark’s whereabouts gave her the strength to get through each day, and lay waiting for the day when she could resist temptation no more.
Kit straightened up. ‘I wanted to wait until now to tell you somet
hing a little sad.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘Remember that night when I quoted the stages of friendship?’ Fran nodded. ‘Well, I’m afraid we’ve reached stage five. I am now officially bored rigid with you and feel it is time to move on.’
They both laughed at the memory of that night almost a lifetime ago.
‘We were a mess, weren’t we?’ said Fran. ‘I wonder how we would have fared if we hadn’t met that night.’
‘Probably okay but much slower. We’re stronger than we gave ourselves credit for.’
‘Well, as our friendship is officially over, it’s probably a good time to give you this,’ said Fran, reaching for the handbag placed beside her chair.
Kit remained silent as she removed a gift-wrapped box complete with a purple bow tied neatly on the top.
‘But… it’s… I didn’t… I mean…’
‘Oh shut up, Kit, and open it!’
Fran chuckled as Kit untied the bow before removing the wrapping paper carefully. The box was blank, giving her no clue as to the contents.
‘Hurry up, woman! I can’t believe you’re normally this slow and deliberate with presents.’
Kit smiled dryly. ‘I haven’t had that many, you know.’
She opened the lid carefully and swallowed when she realised what it was. She pulled it tenderly out of the box and shook it softly.
‘You remembered,’ she almost choked.
Kit watched as the tiny flakes of transparent snow and delicate pieces of glitter swirled and then settled on the scene of a cobbled Victorian street. She held the snow scene up to the light almost shielding her eyes as the tears fell on to her cheeks.
‘Look what you’ve done to me. I hate you, Frances Thornton,’ she said tremulously.
‘I know, I hate you too,’ Fran replied, moving forward to hug her friend. ‘Let’s promise that wherever we are, whatever we’re doing, we’ll always be friends,’ she added.
The Forgotten Woman: A gripping, emotional rollercoaster read you’ll devour in one sitting Page 28