by Tony Salter
I was also finding it too easy to come up with excuses. Although I hated the thing growing inside me, it seemed to have a voice of its own and it wanted to be born. Luckily Frank was a weak-minded loser, and it wasn’t hard to persuade him to stay with me. By that time, he would do anything I asked; it hadn’t taken me long to realise how pathetic and feeble most people were.
We moved out to Uxbridge where he helped me give birth in our damp and grubby flat. There were no complications and no-one was any the wiser. The child – it was a girl – was perfect, with the right number of fingers and toes and everything else in the proper place. No webbed feet or Chinese eyes which was fortunate considering her parentage. Frank was besotted with her; I think he genuinely believed we were going to play happy families for ever after.
That wasn’t my plan. I’d made a promise as I stood over my father’s dying body and I intended to keep it. I was going to control my life. I was going to decide what happened. I was going to be in charge.
The baby didn’t fit with that plan, but as she looked up at me with those demanding eyes, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her with Frank. What sort of life would that be?
So one morning, when Frank was out, I took her and all my stuff and left. No note, no trace.
I chose the Royal Free Hospital because Hampstead was full of rich people. It was before security cameras were everywhere and I simply strolled in the front door carrying her Moses basket, followed the signs to the maternity wing, put the basket down on a chair and left.
As I walked away, the child was still attached to me by an invisible cord, trying to hold me back, but I kept on walking. The invisible cord didn’t break until I was out on the street and then, when it finally snapped, I felt a sharp pain followed by an aching emptiness which left me doubled up and gasping as I stood alone at the bus stop.
More Secrets
I hadn’t cried back then. I hadn’t dared.
Finally, as I sat on the low wall overlooking the cliff, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably. Crying for my lost childhood, crying for what I’d left behind and crying because, at long last, I could.
I heard Nicki’s footsteps crunching on the gravel behind me.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Not really,’ I said. ‘I’ve not cried since I was a child.’
‘Oh,’ she said, sitting on the wall next to me. ‘I’m sorry if it’s my fault. I didn’t mean …’
‘Stop! Never say that. It could never be your fault.’
‘So, what’s going on? I’m totally confused.’
I turned towards her and, all in a rush, the words came.
‘Nicki. I’m your mother.’
‘What? What? No. I don’t understand.’ Shock and confusion filled Nicki’s face.
‘You’re not Fabiola’s daughter. That was a story I invented. The part about the young girl going into Hampstead Free Hospital with a baby is true enough, but it wasn’t Fabiola. It was me.’
‘No!’ she said. ‘You’re saying you’re my real mother? Now. After all this time. I don’t believe it. Why wouldn’t you tell me before?’
‘I wanted to, but I couldn’t … I’m sorry.’
‘I don’t believe you. It doesn’t make any sense. There were DNA tests and everything.’
‘Easy enough to fake. You know that.’
‘So, Dad wasn’t my real father?’
‘No. Although he thought he was. That was why I couldn’t say anything.’ I grabbed her by the shoulders and half-shouted, half-screamed at her. ‘My father raped me when I was fifteen. How could I tell you that?’
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Nicki. ‘This just gets worse. Why didn’t you get a bloody abortion?’
‘It’s complicated. I was hiding from the police and I was afraid. That’s the only rumour about me that’s true. I did kill my father. He was a sick, vicious man, and he got what he deserved.’
I saw Nicki’s expression change when I told her about my father. Her semi-hysterical shock was replaced by something more calculating and analytical. I felt my heart doing somersaults in my chest – maybe she was experiencing her moment of truth at last. Maybe everything would work out.
‘OK,’ she said, face set in a mask. ‘I want to know everything. Start at the beginning.’
We sat on the edge of the cliff watching the darkness spread over the sea. I talked and Nicki listened. There was no-one to switch on the outside lights and, after a while, I couldn’t see her face.
‘Shall we go inside?’ I said, once I’d finished.
‘I’m fine here,’ she said. ‘I just need a moment to try to process everything.’
I didn’t expect forgiveness from her. That ship had foundered long ago, broken apart on rocky reefs of deception. All I was hoping for was an acceptance of who and what she was.
‘How old was I when you first tracked me down?’ she asked.
‘Four,’ I said. ‘It took me a long time to work out how.’
‘And you’ve watched over me since then?’ she said. ‘Spying on me from a distance.’
‘I wouldn’t call it spying,’ I said.
‘I would,’ said Nicki. ‘And the fact that I chose to study what I did and became a Pulsar Scholar? Was that all coincidence?’
Nicki was a trained statistician. She understood probability better than most. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Of course it wasn’t. You had the raw talent, but I gave you a few nudges here and there.’
‘And you didn’t think that I might want a say in my own life?’
‘Everything I did was for you, Nicki.’
She didn’t reply. It was dark, and she had become no more than a shape in the shadows.
‘Nicki…?’
‘Wait. I’m thinking.’
I could hear her breathing, short, angry snorts through her nose. It was understandable that she was upset, but that would pass.
‘Damian and Akiko,’ she said, after a long time. ‘Did you plant that pornography? Was that all you?’
I didn’t know what to say. I’d been prepared for the conversation about Sam and Damocles, but why was she so fixated on the past and her childhood?
‘Was it?’ she shouted.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes. They weren’t right for you.’
‘Weren’t right for me?’ She stood up. ‘Weren’t right for me? I was happy with them, Julie. They were good to me.’
‘I genuinely believed it was for the best,’ I said.
‘And I’ve been defending you to everyone,’ she said. ‘Blindly taking your side out of loyalty.’ She spat out the words. ‘Loyalty. Because you rescued me from that horrible care home.’
This was not going to plan. Why couldn’t she see how difficult it had been for me?
‘I can’t believe how fucking stupid I’ve been,’ she said, hands now curled into rigid claws. ‘Rescued me? You fucking put me there in the first place.’
She started stomping back up the path towards the house and I followed, half running to keep up. I grabbed her arm and she span round to face me, eyes glinting in the starlight.
‘Don’t … you … touch … me,’ she said, pushing me roughly away.
I stumbled and fell hard against the edge of the steps, cracking my head. For a moment, I saw Nicki’s shape silhouetted against the night sky. She leant down over me, mumbling words I couldn’t make out, and then …
Nine Lives
I should have known Julie would switch the lights off after telling me her dirty little secret. At least there was still fresh air. I actually didn’t mind the dark so much, although it would start to get to me soon enough.
Nicki was Julie’s daughter. That made so much sense. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. We’d all been so happy to believe in the idea of a Fabiola-centric universe. Keeping my mother’s mythology alive had felt good.
But Nicki didn’t know. I was sure of that. What would she do when she found out? However much Julie might have wished for it, Nicki wasn’t a psychopath
. She was a normal kind person and I couldn’t see her fitting in with Julie’s warped vision of the world.
As I sat in the darkness, I realised that none of that mattered. Whatever Nicki’s response, it would be too late for me. Julie was going to win, just as she always did.
I closed my eyes and settled down to wait.
Was that screaming? It sounded like a woman screaming. It sounded like Nicki. What was happening?
I stood up and walked towards the door, smashing my head and elbows against several protruding wine bottles on the way. The screaming was slightly louder close to the entrance and I added my own shouts, banging and kicking on the metal door, throwing wine bottles against the wall, anything to be heard.
The screaming stopped and I redoubled my efforts. Surely she’d be able to hear me? I stopped shouting and listened. Nothing.
All of a sudden the lights flicked on and I froze, realising this was probably just Julie playing mind games with me.
‘Sam?’ It was Nicki’s voice. No doubt about it.
‘Nicki. I’m down here.’
Thirty seconds later I saw her wonderful face on the other side of the grill. I watched her fumbling with a set of keys, nervous fingers struggling to find the right one.
‘Thank God you’re here,’ I said, pushing the door open and wrapping my arms around her. ‘Thank you.’
I didn’t look at Nicki properly until we were outside in the fresh air.
‘What happened to you?’ I said. ‘You look even more terrified than me?’
Nicki’s fingers danced around like things possessed and she kept looking over her shoulder. ‘I had a fight with Julie,’ she said. ‘I pushed her and she banged her head. She’s unconscious and there’s blood … so much blood.’
‘Calm down, Nicki,’ I said. ‘Give me a sec to clear my head and we’ll go and check on her.’
And then my own heart stopped beating for an instant – memories of dark eyes and a black pistol filling my mind. ‘Oh shit,’ I said. ‘Where’s the housekeeper? And her husband?’
‘They’ve gone until Monday,’ said Nicki. ‘It’s just us.’ She stopped twitching and looked at me. ‘Did you know Julie’s my real mother?’
‘She told me a few hours ago. Part of her sadistic little game.’
‘I don’t understand. What game? What were you even doing locked down there? Julie told me you’d gone home.’
‘Her gardener forced me there at gunpoint. I tried to tell you about Julie, but you didn’t want to hear. She would never have let me leave this place alive. Can you still not see that?’
Nicki sank down to her knees in front of me. ‘Oh, God. I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve been such an idiot. I should have listened to you.’ She looked up at me, tears running down her cheeks. ‘She admitted everything, Sam. She’s been controlling me my whole fucking life. I even think she might have killed my step-father.’ She was crying properly now, struggling to draw breath and she had her arms crossed in front of her, fingernails gouging into her shoulders. ‘Oh God. I can’t believe it’s true. It’s like I’ve got spiders hatching under my skin.’
‘It’s all right,’ I said, bending down and hugging her close while I waited for her breathing to calm down. ‘You’ll be OK. Trust me. I’m probably the only other person in the world who can understand what you’re feeling right now.’ I took her face in both hands and looked at her. ‘I can’t believe you managed to find me. Thank you so much. I thought I was going to die down there.’
She managed a forced laugh. ‘I’m pretty glad I found you too,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d gone for good.’
‘So. How did you know where to look?’
‘Pure luck,’ she said. ‘After Julie fell, I panicked for a bit. I switched all the lights on and went to look at her. She wasn’t moving and there was blood everywhere. I decided to call you, but my phone hasn’t worked since we got here. Then I checked Julie’s phone; it had a signal, but you didn’t reply. I tried a couple of times and then came out to get the car. I don’t know quite what my plan was but, when I got here, I thought I’d try your number one last time … and that’s when I heard the ringtone.’ She laughed nervously. ‘When I found your phone on the ground, I finally lost it and started screaming my head off. It was lucky I ran out of breath or I’d never have heard you shouting back.’
I stood up, pulling her with me. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and see what’s happened to Julie.’
Nicki wasn’t joking when she’d talked about putting all the lights on. Every security lamp was blazing white and the terrace had turned into a modern art masterpiece of stark criss-crossing shadows.
We walked down the steps to where Nicki had left Julie. There was a huge pool of blood on the stone, but no body.
‘She can’t have gone far,’ I said. ‘Look at all that blood.’
Nicki’s face was chalk-white and I suspected she was about to either pass out or throw up. I took her arm and guided her to a wrought-iron chair at the side of the steps.
‘Sit here,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and find her.’
‘But she m-m-might have a gun,’ she said.
I looked at the size of the black stain spreading in front of me. ‘I’ll be careful,’ I said. ‘You wait here.’
It wasn’t hard to follow Julie. She’d left a trail of sticky blood like snail slime as she’d dragged herself out towards the cliffs.
And there she lay, perfectly floodlit in the centre of an ornate stone circle.
Was she moving? Was I imagining it?
The first fingers of dawn were creeping over the horizon as I walked over to the body. Julie wasn’t dead; I could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the mist of her breath ebbing and flowing on the pool of blood. Amazing how she could still be stubbornly holding onto life.
I felt, rather than heard, Nicki walking up from behind. She stood next to me and whispered as though afraid of disturbing the prone form in front of us.
‘Is she…? Is she … still alive?’
‘I think so,’ I said. ‘I can see her breathing. Have you still got her phone? We should call an ambulance.’
Nicki handed me the phone without speaking, her eyes still locked onto Julie’s body.
I turned towards the light and dialled 112. Then, just as I lifted the phone to my ear, a hand reached out and grabbed hold of my wrist, knocking the phone clattering to the ground.
’No,’ said Nicki, her whole body shaking. ‘Don’t!’
The phone lay on the stone flagstones at Nicki’s feet, a jagged black crack stretching across the flickering screen. A disembodied voice was calling up to us. ‘… pronto, carabinieri … pronto …’
‘Are you sure?’ I said.
She looked deep into my eyes before reaching down, picking up the phone and ending the call.
Nicki then turned away from me and walked past Julie’s body to the low wall at the edge of the cliffs, where she sat down facing out over the sea, her lonely shape back-lit by the hazy pink of the morning sky.
Epilogue
I’d invited everyone around to my flat to watch the coronation on my PixelWall. Even though the special effects had become a bit lame, it still delivered the best TV experience I’d ever seen.
Daz was sitting by the window, pretending not to watch and mumbling about the pointlessness of still having a monarchy. Liz was on the sofa next to my dad and Nicki, leaning forward and glued to the screen. Looking at her, I couldn’t help wondering if she and Daz had any interests in common at all
‘No-one thought Charles would ever become king,’ she said, continuing her seemingly inexhaustible running commentary of useful facts about the Royal Family. ‘We all thought he was too old … and a bit strange as well.’
‘I always liked him,’ said Nicki. ‘Apart from the ears, of course.’
‘As it turned out, he did a pretty good job,’ said my dad. ‘Twenty decent years … and in quite tricky times.’
I was more agnostic tha
n Daz when it came down to the royals, but it was embarrassing to hear the three sofa pundits spouting all these facts and opinions. Why were they so interested in all that archaic, irrelevant pomp? I could cope with a small amount every now and then, but this had been going on for hours and I was beginning to lose the will to live.
I was pulled out of my half-doze to see the screen filled by a row of impossibly long, flag-dangling trumpets raised high and blasting out a regal fanfare. The presenter’s voice dimmed to a respectful, bass rumble ….
‘They’re coming out,’ said Liz, jumping to her feet. Either out of respect or from pure excitement – I wasn’t sure.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ said Daz, stalking out to the balcony and pulling the door closed behind him.
I didn’t blame him. Enough was enough. I went to the kitchen in search of more beers, followed by the roars of the crowd and the presenter’s voice, now almost screaming in barely suppressed ecstasy ‘… Listen to the people cheer as they welcome their new king. What joy! Such a moment. Such a special day. Long live King William! Long live the king …’
I opened the bottles and looked at my watch. There was still another hour to go. Maybe Daz and I could go to the pub?
Back in the living room, Dad, Nicki and Liz were now all standing up, eyes bright with joy. They didn’t even notice when I put fresh drinks in front of them. At least they were happy.
I was half way back out to the kitchen when the balcony doors burst open and Daz came running in. ‘Put the news on,’ he shouted, waving his phone and grinning like a man possessed.
‘Why? What’s going on?’ I said. I pointed at the TV. ‘They’ll kill me if I switch this off.’
‘They can watch it in a minute,’ he said. ‘Switch over. You’ve got to see this.’
I punched the remote, and the screen was filled with the perfect, smiling face of Serena Walsh, the new darling of the BBC news team. Behind her was a backdrop of a bright sunlit Mediterranean scene where dizzying drone images circled around a tree-lined promontory before zooming in on a white stucco building capped with red tiles. Black uniforms, cars and flashing lights were everywhere and, in the bottom right-hand corner was another perfect face – one that I knew all too well.