The Accusation

by Zosia Wand

  She asks, ‘Is your mother still here?’

  ‘She left this morning.’ I glance at Neil. When I look back all three women are watching us.

  Helen asks, ‘Is everything all right?’

  Neil answers, ‘It wasn’t a good time. It was confusing for Milly. I thought it was best if she gave us a bit of space.’

  Shona nods, looking at me. ‘What about you, Eve?’

  I don’t want to be disloyal to Neil, but I can’t lie. ‘It’s difficult for me. She’s my mum. I don’t want to exclude her.’

  Shona nods. ‘But this is your time with Milly and that’s important, Eve. More important than your mother’s feelings.’

  I can feel Neil’s relief beside me. They’re right. But that doesn’t make it easier. ‘I should have explained it to her. I should have talked to her before she came.’

  Neil places a reassuring hand over mine. ‘She should have talked to us,’ he says calmly, ‘instead of just turning up.’ Is it me, or does he sound a little smug now she’s gone?

  Shona leans in closer to Neil. ‘Can you tell me what happened on Friday? What was your experience in the run-up to Milly’s disappearance?’

  ‘I went in to get the drinks. Milly was fine in the garden.’

  The reviewing officer asks, ‘How long were you gone?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Not long. I don’t know. The radio was on.’ He frowns. ‘Some sort of comedy? I was half listening to the story. I made the sandwiches and when I went back out she was gone.’

  Had he made the sandwiches before he did the drinks? If he had, then he would only have been gone for a few minutes. How long does it take to pour orange juice? But if he had to make sandwiches, then that would have taken longer. What was he listening to? One of those thirty-minute comedy things that are on mid-morning on Radio 4. The reviewing officer is making notes, so is Shona. Helen is watching us both. They aren’t asking these questions. Why am I asking these questions?

  Shona asks, ‘The front door was closed?’

  ‘I didn’t close it. I wouldn’t. Why would I?’

  I interrupt. ‘The wind must have blown it shut.’

  Shona remains focused on Neil. ‘You didn’t hear your mother-in-law knock?’

  ‘She didn’t knock.’

  Helen and the reviewing officer exchange a look. Shona says, ‘She says she came around to the back of the house.’

  He sighs, and then he says, ‘She’s a liar.’

  The words land in the room like a brick through the window. How could he say that? In front of these people? I look down at my feet, unable to watch the reaction he’s caused. I’m trembling. This is not Neil. Neil is diplomatic. Neil knows what’s at stake here. I want to speak, to tiptoe over this, but the broken shards of this word litter the floor and I’m frightened to put a foot wrong.

  He’s called my mother a liar, but has he been entirely honest? How long was Milly on her own? Is he angry because Mum’s caught him out? I appeal to Shona. ‘Will this mess things up for us? It was a mistake. It wasn’t intentional. I don’t know about the door. She might have got the wrong gate when she came around the back – they’re all very similar, you need to count your way up. She thought no one was in. She didn’t mean any harm. And Milly was safe.’

  Shona looks at me for a moment. ‘Have you explained the situation to your mother? How the adoption process works? Milly is still the responsibility of the local authority. There are procedures that need to be followed.’

  ‘I’m sorry. She didn’t realise. I’ve explained to her now.’

  Shona nods and turns to Neil. ‘So you can confirm you were in the house all the time, preparing the lunch?’

  ‘Yes.’ One word. Solid. Heavy. Fact.

  ‘I know about you.’ What does she think she knows?

  We wait as Shona writes something down that I can’t read from where I’m sitting. Outside, a delivery truck is reversing, the insistent beep of the sensor piercing the silence. Eventually Shona places the papers back in her file and looks across at the reviewing officer and Helen. A silent communication between them. They discussed this before they came. Shona will have made our case to the best of her ability. Is it enough? Have we proved ourselves?

  The reviewing officer gives a nod. Shona turns back to us. ‘It seems this was all an unfortunate misunderstanding. What’s important is Milly’s well-being. I would be a little more careful about leaving her unattended, particularly in that lower garden on the other side of the street. I know it’s a private access road, but vehicles do still move up and down it. And the wall between your garden and park needs some attention.’ A smile. She’s on our side. A reprieve. I hadn’t realised how tightly I’d been clenched until this moment. I feel the blood returning to my muscles. ‘I think it would be a good idea for you to have a chat with your mum, Eve, and try to establish some boundaries. It’s important that you bond with Milly before you start introducing her to extended family.’

  Neil exhales and his body relaxes. Is his relief simply to do with Milly, or is it more than that? He says, ‘Thank you,’ as if he’s been vindicated, but the word ‘liar’ still reverberates in my ears. Why is he so keen to keep Mum at a distance? He told her he was afraid of her. Why is he afraid of her?

  There are places I feel I cannot go with Neil. Bruised places. I am not going to press on those bruises. We all have our wounds.

  I know that Neil went through a dark period when he turned eighteen. His family joked about it, saying they were relieved when he met me and snapped out of it. He always dismissed it, ‘I was a bit of an arse to everyone,’ clearly embarrassed, ‘said and did some stupid things,’ but never entered into any detail and I hadn’t pushed. At first I assumed he’d just been a bit moody and hormonal, but then at one of our early sessions with Shona, he told her he’d made contact with his birth mother just after his eighteenth birthday. I was stunned by this. He’d never said a word to me about it. We’d been discussing adoption for months. Why didn’t he confide in me? When I asked him, later, after Shona had gone, he told me he hadn’t meant to say anything. That it just came out. He hadn’t mentioned it to me because he didn’t want to remember. It was a very upsetting experience and he just wanted to put it behind him. That explains his dark period. Whatever happened with his birth mother disturbed him. He told Shona he met her once. It was ‘disappointing’ for them both. He didn’t want to say any more. Shona accepted that and, eventually, so did I.

  The reviewing officer smiles. Helen smiles. Everyone is relieved. Everyone wants this to work. The reviewing officer says, brightly, ‘So, not long now before you can apply for the adoption order.’

  Shona looks at us expectantly and I should be delighted, but all I want to do right now is cry.

  Helen says, ‘Shona mentioned something about you having a welcoming ceremony of some kind for Milly? That’s a nice idea. There is the celebration hearing at the magistrates’ court, but it can be a bit dry. It’s a special day. Nice to make an occasion of it.’

  I take a deep breath. ‘About the hearing.’ Neil stills beside me. ‘I was wondering, is it a problem if we postpone?’

  Shona looks at Neil. I can’t. He’s stiff, but says nothing, waiting. ‘Mum would like to be there. I’d like her to be there.’ I place my hand on Neil’s thigh, willing him to keep his cool. ‘Like you say, it’s a special occasion.’ I’m looking at Shona, appealing to her, but it’s Neil I’m addressing. He’s called my mother a liar. He’s implied that she deliberately set out to create trouble for us, for me, but that’s not true. She meddles and she’s insensitive, but she isn’t malicious. He’s sore because she’s suspicious of him, but she’ll always be suspicious. My mother was betrayed by the man she loved and she’ll never trust a man again. Neil knows this. He should be more understanding. I’m her only child. She’s only looking out for me in the same way I’d look out for Milly. If he was a little less hostile towards her, if he could try and be a bit more patient and not make it so obvious how
much she irritates him, she might back off a bit. I want my mother in my life. It might make it easier for him if she wasn’t but that’s too bad. I say to Shona, ‘It’s the day we become a family, that I become a mother, and I’d like my mum to be here.’ Neil’s thigh is rock hard beneath my palm.

  Shona is nodding understanding. ‘Of course.’

  ‘The thing is, she’s waiting for a knee operation and she’s worried that it might clash.’

  Neil shakes his head. His voice is low. ‘No, Eve. No.’

  ‘Neil, listen!’

  ‘She can change the date of her operation, if she has to.’

  ‘But it’s a long waiting list. And there’s the recovery period. She won’t be able to travel for a while.’

  ‘That could take weeks.’

  I look at Shona. ‘Is it a problem if we wait? What does it mean?’

  ‘Well,’ Shona adjusts the file on her knee, ‘you need to do this when you’re ready. It’s a big step.’

  ‘We are ready!’ There’s a slash of anxiety through Neil’s voice. ‘We’ve got one month to go. Milly’s marked it on the calendar.’ He turns to me. ‘What message is it giving her if we stall?’

  I know what he’s saying makes sense, but it’s not that simple. I can see Mum’s swollen eyes, feel her juddering body inside my arms. She wants to be part of this. I want her to be part of this.

  Neil is watching me, his face puckered. ‘Milly, Eve. This is about Milly.’ I know, I know, but Mum wants to be here. I want her here. His eyes are fixed on mine like two pins. ‘You want us to tell Milly to wait?’

  The room is silent. Neil’s right. I can’t do this to Milly. How could I even consider it? What kind of mother am I if I fail to put my child first? I shake my head. ‘No, no.’ But how am I going to explain this to Mum? If she takes offence and refuses to speak to me or come and visit, she will miss out on such an important period in Milly’s life and our opportunity to create a different, more healthy relationship will be lost.

  Shona says, ‘This needn’t be a problem.’ A reassuring smile. She appreciates that it’s possible to be infuriated by someone’s behaviour but forgive it. She understands how difficult it was for me to be estranged from my mother. The loss. The grief I felt. It’s worse than death. If your mother dies you are sympathised with, supported. This is a situation society understands; there is a language for it, a recognised protocol. But to exclude your mother from your life is something else entirely. It is, quite simply, unacceptable. People assume there must be something wrong with you, that you are somehow lacking in compassion or the generosity that is expected of an adult daughter. The mother-daughter bond is revered. Daughters do not cut off from their mothers and mothers do not give up on their daughters. It’s unforgiveable.

  I don’t want this shame within my family, because that was how it felt for those two years while we had no contact; shameful. I avoided the subject of mothers in conversations with people locally. I remember Kath touching on the subject so gently, assuming my mother was dead. I almost let her continue believing that, but I had to come clean, and I found myself stammering, trying to explain, sounding as if I was justifying myself or hiding something. I don’t want Milly to be part of that, to witness me struggling with it, or to feel it herself. She deserves better. Other people manage to make it work and so will we. Shona confided in me once that her own mother was a demanding woman, unable to see things from anyone else’s point of view, but she still has a relationship with her. I’m sure it takes a monumental amount of patience and resilience but she has pulled it off and I will too.

  She explains, ‘It’s not the adoption hearing that adopters attend. I go to that on your behalf. You’re confusing it with the celebration hearing. That’s what Helen was referring to. That takes place at the magistrates’ court about four to six weeks after the adoption order has been agreed by the judge.’

  Neil says, ‘You mean she won’t be legally adopted for another two or three months?’

  ‘No, no.’ Shona shakes her head. ‘The celebration hearing is automatic. Milly will be legally adopted the moment the adoption order is agreed, and I’ll phone to let you know that decision as soon as I leave the court, but the celebratory hearing will be some time after that and it may be possible to rearrange that date if your mother is recuperating.’

  The reviewing officer clears her throat. ‘We may be jumping the gun a bit here.’ Cold creeping up my spine. I hold my breath. ‘I’m sure Shona will have mentioned this, but just to be clear: Claire may still contest the adoption.’

  ‘But she’s had no contact with Milly for almost a year.’

  Helen answers. ‘It can happen. If Claire has managed to turn things around and persuades the judge that she deserves another chance, the adoption order may not be given.’

  Neil’s voice is small and thin as a thread. ‘She could take her back?’

  I’m momentarily paralysed. I think Shona did explain this. I know, somehow, that this is not new information, but when we were presented with this possibility, months ago, we were confident, certain that we were offering Milly a much healthier, more stable environment. It was almost preposterous to consider a better option for Milly might be to stay with Claire. But the last few days have shaken that confidence. We’ve seen Milly worried, at times distressed. She’s witnessed arguments and hostility. We have not been the perfect family we hoped to be. It is no longer preposterous to consider she may be better off elsewhere.

  It’s only now the gravity of it hits me. Because while I was afraid that Mum’s accusation, the police search, that whole ugly episode might delay things, I always believed we’d pull through. There was a possibility Milly might be returned to her foster family, but Ruth was on our side that Milly was better off with us. This is different. This is Milly’s mother. Her claim is greater than mine.

  Helen is talking. I try to focus. ‘If Claire appealed, I’d have to ask for more time. I’d explain to the judge that there had been a development with the birth family that required assessment.’

  I need to stop her. ‘But it’s not likely. She’s had so many chances. Why would it be different now?’

  The reviewing officer says, ‘Birth parents do sometimes attend the adoption hearing.’

  Neil snaps back, ‘They can and we can’t?’

  I wince. There is no room in this scenario for Neil’s outrage. There is no room for us to be anything other than a perfect option right now because Milly needs to be safe. The purpose of this adoption is to improve her circumstances, not exchange one dysfunctional family for another. The reviewing officer continues in her flat, horrid voice. I hate her. I want her and Helen to leave. I want Shona to reassure us, to remind us how unlikely this scenario is, but she keeps talking. ‘It’s their last opportunity to contest the adoption. If the judge feels they have a case, the adoption order can be postponed while matters are investigated further. We’d need to schedule more visits to reassess the mother’s circumstances.’

  ‘Claire may give it one last shot,’ Shona adds, before the reviewing officer catches her breath, ‘but there is no indication, at this stage, that her circumstances have changed. Let’s not dwell on this now. What’s important is that you continue with your plans and assume the best. Postponing the celebration for your mother is neither here nor there in terms of the legal process.’

  It’s as if my heart has stopped beating. I’m not Milly’s mother. She may call me Mummy, but the truth is, I’m not. Claire may come back for Milly. She may clean up, get somewhere to live and want her child back. And if she does that for Milly, who am I to stop her? If she can provide a safe, loving environment for her daughter, with the support of two doting grandparents, then she can offer more than I can right now.

  A flash of memory: Milly running towards the adventure playground at Brockhole, hesitating, looking to us for reassurance. And Milly grabbing at Neil’s legs as he walks through the door, waiting to be scooped up into his arms. Milly’s little hand reaching up t
o grasp mine. Milly turning the pages of the life-story book we created to introduce her to our world. I bought an enormous A2 artist’s pad and filled it with photographs of me and Neil, the places we’ve been on our travels, the world tour, Australia, the year teaching in an English language school in Greece, our wedding day, the delayed honeymoon to Rome (Mum had a fall and we had to postpone until she could manage on her own). I’ve decorated the pages of the book with coloured pencil drawings, little maps, handwritten annotations and glittery stickers. Milly likes to look at that book before she goes to sleep, drinking us up. She’s happy with us. She wants to be here. We have to do our best for her. We have to prove ourselves.

  Shona stands up. ‘I’ll leave the two of you to talk it through.’

  I stand, trembling. I’ve been so stupid, worrying about Mum and Neil and their petty little spats, when I should have been thinking about Milly. This is all about Milly. She needs us.

  Neil’s on his feet, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to contain his frustration. I want them to go.

  Shona adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder and looks at me. She places her hand on my arm. ‘Be confident. Milly’s happy. This is the right place for her to be.’

  ‘I know.’ And I do. I must make sure, to the best of my ability, that we remain, at the very least, a viable option.

  Neil follows us into the hall and calls out goodbye as Shona makes her way down the front path. She waves. Helen is already closing the passenger door of a silver Ford. The reviewing officer is at the wheel. She twists in her seat to throw her bag into the back. They’re talking. What will they be saying about us now? I wait until Shona’s out of earshot and turn to face Neil.

  ‘How could you say that about Mum in front of them?’ He frowns. ‘What is Shona going to think?’

  ‘You think she doesn’t know already?’ He shakes his head and turns away from me. ‘Why Eve? Why do you let her do this to us?’

  ‘You’re scared of her.’