by Jane Davis
'What have you done to yourself?' he asked.
There were so many questions I wanted to know the answer to. What had Laura done to herself? What had we all done to ourselves? What on earth had we done to each other? What had I put Tom through?
A nurse asked, 'Are you the husband?'
Tom looked confused and turned to me for an answer.
'Are you Tom Fellows?' she tried again.
Tom nodded, not letting go of Laura's hand.
'No wonder,' the nurse whispered to me, putting her hand on my shoulder, thinking that she understood everything, before she left the room.
'Is she any better?' I asked.
'She's stable. Early days yet. Don't expect too much.'
I understood nothing, other than the desire to make everything all right. To take us back to a time when everything was simple and there was everything to look forward to. It seemed very clear that this was up to me. Although I had no faith to speak of, I repeated my prayer that, if only Laura would live, I would do whatever was necessary to make things right. Then I went to telephone the only person in the world who I knew would understand how I was feeling: my old adversary, Faye.
'What time of the morning do you call this?' she snapped down the phone, even before she knew it was me.
'Faye!' I said with relief at the sound of her familiar voice.
'I might have known it would be you, Peter Churcher. Just because you're up all night with the new baby doesn't mean the rest of us don't like our sleep.'
I tried to sound calm. 'Faye, you need to come home.'
'I've told you already. You may find Derek fascinating, but I'll wait until he can do something a bit more interesting than eat, sleep and scream before I come to see him.'
'It's not Derek you need to see. It's Laura. She's in hospital.'
'Laura? What's wrong with her?'
I explained to her about the trip to hospital and the uncertain prognosis. About finding Tom. I told her about Tom's breakdown. I told her that I had left Tom with Laura and that it would all get a lot more complicated in the next few hours once we knew if she was going to make it. I asked her for help. No, I begged her for help to make things right again.
'Have a bit of sensitivity, for goodness' sake, that's my sister you're talking about. Give me a few minutes at least to catch up. Have you really thought this through? Aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself?'
'I don't think so. Believe me, I wouldn't even be considering this if I didn't think it was necessary. You come and see for yourself and tell me that you don't think Tom'll walk unless I make it possible for him to stay. He left once before. I think he'll do it again.'
'One step at a time. I'm going to get dressed and then I'll get on a train. I'll come straight to the hospital to see Laura, but it will be lunchtime at least, maybe later. Keep an eye on her for me until then. And, Peter Churcher . . .' she said.
'What's that?'
'Don't you dare screw things up before I get there.'
Chapter Forty-two
Tom,' I said quietly, 'I'm going to see Laura's mother and the children now.'
'I'm staying,' he replied, not moving his gaze from her face.
I envied him the luxury of not having to deal with other people.
'Shall I tell your mother where you are?' I asked.
There was no reply.
'I'll go and see your mother on the way.'
I looked at Laura over his shoulder and heard myself breathe inwards and outwards loudly. I wanted to say something to her or to touch her hair but I felt awkward in front of Tom. Every time I said goodbye, there was a possibility that it was for the last time. Instead I put one hand on his shoulder. 'There will be other people here later,' I told him. 'I won't be able to keep Mrs Albury away and Faye is on her way from London.'
'I'm staying,' he repeated, not taking his eyes off Laura for one moment.
I drove to see Mrs Fellows first. Strange as it might seem, I thought that she would be the more worried of the two mothers. For Tom to disappear in his condition would have alarmed her and I was concerned that she might have called the police. I was right. She had found that he was missing when she went to take him breakfast and was already distressed.
'How's Laura?' she asked for the first time after I had assured her of his safety.
'I'm sure that having Tom there will make all the difference,' I said, only then aware that I was placing a great deal of confidence in his ability to bring her round. 'I'll bring him home when he's ready.'
'I must go and see her,' she said suddenly, as if she had only just realized that she should. I was sure that what she wanted to do was keep an eye on her own son as he watched over his wife.
Mrs Fellows grabbed my arm as I turned to leave. 'How did he seem to you?' She was desperate for another opinion.
'He's still Tom,' I replied, not sure what to else to say. 'He's still in there.'
Mrs Fellow seemed satisfied with this. 'Yes, he is,' she said.
Mrs Albury, on the other hand, was less than satisfied with my report about her daughter's condition. She wanted facts and figures and I had none to give her.
'When will they know?' she demanded.
'They say it's too early to say more.'
'And you were happy with that?' she spat at me, wasting no time in buttoning her coat and readying herself to leave. 'Mark my words, I'll get more out of them than that. You stay here with the children,' she commanded unnecessarily. 'I'll be back later.' It was clear that she now thought that their place was with her. I was the babysitter rather than the father-figure. It was only after she'd left that I realized I had not warned her about Tom. The thought of the scene that would follow cheered me up immensely. I put the kettle on and went to rouse the children. After her night-time adventure, Andrea had slept later than usual and was tearful to find that she was not at home with her mother and all of her things.
'I want Mummy,' she wailed.
'Me too.' I kissed her, mixing her tears with my own. 'Me too.' She suited my mood; she could express all the injustice that I felt. I gathered her up in the bedclothes from her makeshift bed and deposited her on the sofa in the living room, where we sat and clung to each other like lost souls until Derek made his presence known.
'Shall we get him up?' I asked her, her face close by.
'No.' She shook her head, pouting.
'Don't you like having a little brother?'
She shook her head again, fiercely. 'No.'
'Do you think you might get to like him?'
More shaking followed.
'Is that because you like having your mummy all to yourself?'
'Yes!' she declared, covering her head with blankets and grinning at last.
I left her and went to find Derek. The wailing led me to Mrs Albury's room, where he was lying in a drawer that had been pulled out of a chest, wrapped in woollens.
'What has the nasty old lady done to you?' I laughed at the sight of him fighting fiercely with the sleeve of a cardigan. I picked him up and held him as I sat on the bed, tears welling up in my eyes. 'It seems like nobody wants you,' I told him. 'Shall we run away together, you and me? Hey? Shall we go somewhere no one can find us?' As attractive as this prospect sounded, I knew that it was the one option I couldn't consider. So I sang to him the only childhood song I could think of: 'Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.'
Part Twelve
Andrea's Story
Chapter Forty-three
'There's something I need to tell you,' Nana said busily as she bustled past me into the hallway, looking behind her for fear that she might have been followed. 'We might not have much time. She's not going to stop me this time.'
'Hello, Nana. Are you on your own?' I asked, looking out of the door for clues: Aunty Faye's car; a waiting taxi perhaps? Nothing.
'Shut the door, child!' she commanded, already in the kitchen and putting the kettle on. 'Sit yoursel
f down.'
I did as I was told. She sat too and held on to both of my hands, looking me straight in the eyes. It was what she used to do when I was little and she wanted me to listen. She had tried to teach my mother the same trick. It was her opinion that I needed to be made to sit still and concentrate if there was something important to be said, otherwise there was a distinct danger that it could go straight in one ear and out of the other.
'I'm listening, Nana,' I said, trying to stifle my growing amusement in the face of her seriousness.
'I know you are,' she said. 'I'm still trying to work out where to begin. You see, you think that you're all alone in the world, but you need to know that you're not. This is going to come as a shock, but Laura and Tom weren't your biological parents.'
'They were the only parents that were ever important to me.' I smiled back at her, unflinching.
'You know?' She looked shocked at my lack of surprise. 'How could you know?'
I went to a drawer in the kitchen and took out the results of my scribblings, placing them in front of her. I had been able to bring myself to write my name back into the picture under an entry for Faye Albury and Peter Churcher. The page was covered with crossings out and arrows. It was messy, it was complicated and the result was as confused as I felt. In that way, it was an accurate reflection of my family. I made no apologies for it. 'I started looking into our family tree a few weeks ago and this is what I found. I suppose it's been staring me in the face all these years, but I didn't see it.'
She pushed her glasses up her nose and studied the end result, nodding, then she sat back in her chair. 'Well, if you know, why the devil haven't you done anything about it? This is family we're talking about, for goodness' sake! We've got to stick together. Especially at a time like this.'
'Nana, what is there to be done?' I tried to stay calm in the face of her outrage. 'I'm fairly sure that Uncle Pete had absolutely no idea about it. At least not until recently. And if that's the case, then Aunty Faye must have had a very good reason for not telling him. Maybe there comes a point when it's just too late to tell someone something like that. "Peter, I've been meaning to bring this up for the last twenty-five years, but Andrea's your daughter.'' '
'So, you think that your Uncle Peter knows?'
'I think that he started to suspect at round about the same time as I did, but I have no idea if he knows for certain. When did you find out?'
'Me? I've known from the very beginning. From the moment I first held you in my arms. You were the spitting image of Faye as a baby. I did the maths. And Laura just wasn't as natural with you as she should have been. It was obvious.'
'And Uncle Pete?'
'You have his chin.' She touched my face. 'Faye wasn't one to admit it but she always had a soft spot for him. It seemed unfair that Laura had so many admirers when Faye was so stylish and intelligent and downright feisty.' She said this with some pride. 'I think she frightened men off. Too much of a challenge by half! I always liked Peter myself. He looked out for my girls and he never shirked from his responsibilities. That's how I knew that he didn't know about you. He would have married Faye if she had told him. It's obvious that she didn't tell him because she didn't want him to.'
'What did my parents tell you about me?'
'Tell me?' She laughed bitterly. 'Do you think they told me anything? They took me for a fool. We did what all good families do. We told each other nice lies and played our parts well. Apart from Faye. She struggled. I never asked Faye why she didn't come home for years after you were born because I didn't have to. It was obvious that it was just too painful for her. She was never going to be able to slip into the role of your aunt very easily. I waited for her to come to talk to me about it. I waited for years. I've had to watch her punishing herself, wasting half of her life. And for what? To keep a secret that it seems everyone knows. I don't know why they made the decisions they did about you. In the end they probably chose the most difficult option. But I'm proud of them for looking after each other. And, unlike your brother, I'm so glad that we were able to keep you in the family. If you had been taken in by anyone else, I might never have got to know you. But if the girls had asked for my advice at the time, it's not what I would have recommended. So, there you go. What does that tell you? Your nana's not always right.'
I thought about the perception that Laura was Nana's favourite daughter, the one she understood the most. It wasn't true. Nana had been waiting to help her younger daughter. It's hard to help someone when they don't think they need you.
And I thought about the idea of what is right. Often, there is no right. There is just a decision that needs to be made and then we all have to make it work or live with the consequences.
'So, what are you going to do about it?' she demanded.
'I'm not going to suddenly start calling them Mum and Dad. I had the most fantastic parents I could have asked for. Now they're gone, and I don't want to replace them.'
'You think you're all grown up and you won't need parents any more? You wait until you've got a family of your own. You'll need all the help you can get. You can't rely on me being around then.' She shook her head and folded her arms. 'Oh no! I'm on my last legs as it is.'
'I only said I don't want to replace them!' I raised my voice unintentionally. 'I know I've got family around me. And there's nothing wrong with your legs. In fact there's not a lot wrong with you at all, is there?'
'That's the spirit!' she said.
What I couldn't tell Nana with her stiff-upper-lip, the-truth- will-set-us-free attitude is that I had a very strong sense that both of my parents – my biological parents – were just about holding together the threads of their lives. If confronted, I worried that the delicate balance would be destroyed. I was no more ready to stop being Andrea Fellows than I had been to stop being my daddy's little girl. I told myself that I must learn to let other people be who they are, to give them time and space. I thought that Uncle Pete and I would be able to adjust to our new relationship, but I was more worried about my aunt. I couldn't have that conversation until I knew if I could deal with her rejecting me for a second time. Because that was also a possibility. I wanted to hear my story – and theirs too – but by the same token I worried that it would change me. I tried to convince myself that I would be more than content to be part of an extraordinary extended family.
'I suppose I should tell you about Uncle Pete's plan,' I said exasperatedly. 'I'm not supposed to yet, but maybe you'll understand why I'm not in as much of a rush as you.'
'The little devil!' she said after I had finished, her eyes bright. 'So I can come home?'
I nodded. 'Do you think we should agree to go ahead before we know if Aunty Faye and Uncle Pete have had it out? Isn't it possible that they might never speak again?'
'Have you no faith in me?' She twinkled at me. 'I won't let that happen. They're adults, and as adults we all have to face difficult truths sometimes. Mark my words, we'll find a way of making this work.'
As she was leaving she turned to me, almost as an afterthought, and held my hands in hers once again. I looked at her raised veins and the loose skin around her fragile wrists, mottled with liver spots. She might not have been on her last legs, but she was getting older. I could understand her desire to make things right with her family, so that they would all look after each other when she was gone. 'And what about your little brother? Have you managed to find anything out about him?'
It was then that her earlier words struck me. Unlike your brother. Did she think that he might be alive too?
'Not yet, Nana. I'm still working on it. Is there anything you can tell me that might help?'
'They told me he died,' she said.
'He was stillborn,' I repeated what I had been told.
'Not stillborn, no. He was premature. I was told that he died when he was about two weeks old. I didn't see the body. That was my choice, I admit, but I never quite believed that he was dead. And more and more over the years I've had this feeling
that he's out there. It's probably just the foolish thoughts of an old woman.' Nana smiled and put her hand to my face. 'You're my beautiful girl and you've got a good head on your shoulders. Don't forget it. If you've inherited that much from my two girls, you'll do well in the world.'
Part Thirteen
Faye's Story
Chapter Forty-four
After Peter Churcher's dawn call and my initial decisiveness, the journey home gave me time to reflect. Peter could be very persuasive; that was his job for goodness' sake. He was an expert in the art of making you think exactly how he wanted you to and he had a very strong conviction that he thought he knew what was best for everyone concerned. His plan involved removing himself and Derek from the picture completely so that everything could return to 'normal'. In my opinion, this seemed naive at best. What was 'normal'? From what Laura had told me, I wasn't sure that there had ever been a time when there hadn't been a third person in her marriage. It also assumed that it was possible to turn back the clocks and that everyone could conveniently forget. And yet, at the same time, there was some sense to it. Peter was motivated by the need to make things right by Tom and, in doing so, he thought he could put the family back together. I would understand, he told me, when I saw Tom for myself. But, of course, Peter had no idea what he was asking of me. He didn't know when he asked me to help him deceive my sister that I had given away my own daughter – his daughter – and was already living a lie. He didn't know about my recent misgivings after Laura had told me of Peter's desire to be a father. And he couldn't have known that I didn't want him to bring up Andrea in Tom's place. I was aware that part of this feeling was born out of a childish and selfish sense of injustice. 'If I can't have her then you're not going to.' But I believe that we ignore these feelings at our peril. I had no doubt that if Laura and Peter were together in the long term, I would have had to cut off my relationship with both my sister and my daughter altogether. When Peter told me that I was a good sister, under the impression I wanted to protect Laura and her family, he had no idea what he was saying. I felt I was being anything but a good sister. There was a part of me, however small, that would have liked to say to Laura, 'There! We have both lost a child. Now you might understand how I feel!' Who was it who said that there are no unselfish acts in this world?