by Lu Hersey
I stagger downstairs with the bag and take a quick look in the front room. The box from the film Levi and I watched last week is still on the table. Suddenly I’m filled with a feeling of intense sadness. I leave as fast as I can, slamming the door behind me.
Dad opens his window to talk to me and turns down the Ramones.
“That was quick. Are you sure you’ve got everything?”
“Hopefully. Think I’ve got enough for now. Anyway, you weren’t too keen to come in and help, were you?”
“That’s not fair. I don’t know—”
“Where she keeps anything. Yes, you said.”
I go to the back of the car and open the boot so I can shove Mum’s bag in. It’s not worth picking a fight with him and I can’t explain why I’m angry. I suppose it’s not all his fault. I come back round and climb into the passenger seat.
“Dad?”
“Mmm?”
“You know when you left me with Mum at the hospital?”
“You’re not going to have another go at me are you?”
“No, it’s okay, honestly. I just want to ask you something.”
“Go on then.”
I hesitate, wondering how to put it. “Well, after you left the room, Mum started sort of making weird noises and shouting. The only thing I could really understand was that she was asking for her mother.”
“Oh? You didn’t tell me that.”
If he’d stayed in there with me he’d know, but I manage to hold my tongue. This is more important.
“I keep thinking about it. She never mentions her mother normally. Never. What happened to her?”
“To be honest, Danni, I’ve no idea. I’m not even sure if she’s alive or not.”
My pulse starts to race. I turn to stare at him.
“Seriously? You mean I might have a grandmother that no one’s bothered to mention before? That’s just great.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic. It’s not my fault. When we got married, your mum said she didn’t have family. I assumed she meant they were all dead, but maybe I was wrong. She refused to talk about them anyway.”
“So where did she live when she was a child?” Already I’m starting to feel excited, even though I know it’s ridiculous. Of course I don’t have a grandmother.
“I’m not really sure. Cornwall somewhere, I guess.”
“How can you not know, Dad? You married her. Didn’t you talk to each other about anything?”
“Of course we did. But she didn’t like talking about her past – it was a closed subject. She just got angry if I asked too many questions.”
I know he’s right. She did the same with me. But now I wish I’d asked her anyway, even if it did make her angry. Dad should have tried harder too.
Dad shifts in his seat and fumbles with the car keys. He glances at me quickly.
“Did you know her father drowned? I think that’s the only thing your mum ever told me about her family. Often wondered if it was the reason she was so touchy about it.”
“Yes, she told me that too.”
Dad looks relieved and starts the car. I sink my head back against the headrest and try to remember the day she told me. I can’t have been more than five or six. We were on a beach somewhere. She said my grandfather’s fishing boat had gone down in a storm when she was a girl. I was upset because Mum was crying.
But there was something else. It was a long time ago and the memory keeps flitting away from me. I can’t quite grasp it.
“I can probably find her father’s memorial if you’d like to see it,” says Dad, as we pull away from the house. “It’s not that far from home. She showed me once just before we got married.”
“Really?” For a minute I can’t believe I heard him right. “Are you telling me it’s somewhere near your shop in Cararth?”
“Yes, I’m fairly sure it is. I didn’t live there back then of course, but I think it’s in the area.”
My mind starts racing as the information sinks in. If the memorial to my grandfather is close to Cararth, surely Mum must have lived nearby. Could that be why Mum hates taking me to Dad’s new shop so much? Maybe she thinks she’ll see someone she knows, family even? I always thought her problem was with Dad not paying maintenance. That’s what she told me. But perhaps things weren’t that straightforward. After all, she never cared about that before he moved. Maybe there was another reason.
Dad turns to me, looking worried.
“I don’t want you to get disappointed though, Danni love. I can help you find the memorial easily enough, but it doesn’t mean you’ve got a grandmother, or that she lives round here. I’ve certainly never met her. And your mother’s in a very confused state right now. Most likely she died years ago.”
“I know, Dad. Thanks.” I smile to reassure him.
But however rational Dad’s being, the way Mum was calling for her mother in the hospital is haunting me.
I can’t help thinking my grandmother might still be alive.
chapter 10
“She didn’t save him!”
Mum sits next to me on the dark, wet sand, crying. The waves crash closer with the incoming tide.
“Why? Why didn’t she?” Tears stream down her face. Water surges around our legs.
I’m scared. I stand up and struggle my way against the surf to the beach. Mum’s not with me. I look round and see the waves close over her head.
I try to scream but I can’t. I can only whisper.
“Danni? Danni, wake up!”
I open my eyes. Dad is leaning over me looking anxious.
“Are you okay, love?”
I blink up at him, and for a minute I’m not sure where I am.
“You were making such a strange noise. I thought you were choking or something.”
“It was Mum, she was drowning.”
“Well since you’re awake, I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.” Dad pats my head gently as if I’m Jackson, and leaves the room.
I lie back on the pillows, thinking about the dream. Now I remember what Mum said that day on the beach. I leap out of bed and run to the kitchen.
“Dad, that dream just jogged my memory. When Mum told me her father had drowned, she said something else. Something like ‘She didn’t save him’. She said it more than once. It didn’t make any sense. What was she talking about?”
“I’ve no idea. Maybe you heard her wrong?”
“No, I didn’t. Even as a little girl I thought it was strange. But you know what? That dream has brought it back to me. I see it differently now I’m older. What if she was talking about her mother?”
I’m excited because I’m sure I’m right. As if I somehow know it’s true. I can’t explain the feeling.
Dad looks at me. “Children often blame their parents for things that aren’t really their fault.”
I realize he’s talking about me and him, but I haven’t got time to deal with that now.
“Yes but this is different. Her mother couldn’t possibly have saved him. He was out at sea in a fishing boat. It’s mad.”
“Sometimes children don’t see things logically, Danni. Maybe she thought her mother should have stopped him going out fishing that day or something?”
That hadn’t occurred to me. For once Dad could be right.
“Anyway, my point is that somehow Mum ended up blaming her mother for his death. Do you reckon that’s why she stopped seeing her?”
Dad looks worried. “You really do think her mother might still be alive, don’t you? I hope you’re not going to be upset if she’s not.”
“No of course not. Just curious really,” I lie.
Later on, Dad drops me by the hospital.
“Are you positive you’re okay going in on your own? We could all go tomorrow instead.”
“It’ll be fine, Dad. Mum just needs some clothes. I’ll meet up with you and Michelle later.”
I guess Dad is trying to be nice to me. I think my nightmares are beginning to disturb him. But he’s
off to pick up Michelle, and I can’t imagine my little half-sister wanting to spend much time here. Nobody would if they didn’t have to.
I lift Mum’s bag out of the boot.
“Catch you later, Dad. Thanks for the lift.”
I manage to keep a smile fixed on my face as he waves and drives off. But I’m dreading seeing Mum again, if I’m honest.
A male nurse shows me the way to Mum’s room. Today the corridor stinks of boiled cabbage and toilets. He knocks and opens the door to her room, waving me inside. Mum looks over in my direction, but her eyes don’t focus on me. It’s as if she’s waiting for someone else. I feel a sense of despair. Nothing has changed.
The nurse points to the tiny cupboard next to Mum’s bed.
“You can put her things in there if you like. Sorry there isn’t more storage space. I’ll be on the reception desk if you need anything else.”
He smiles and leaves me on my own in the room with Mum.
Mum sighs and makes whimpering noises. I feel hopeless again, but this time I manage to stop myself crying by talking to her. I tell her where I’m putting her things so she can find them later, though I don’t think she even hears me. I place the photo of me on top of the cupboard so she can look at it if she wants to. She doesn’t say anything. She probably has no idea I’m here. I tell her what I’ve been doing, just to fill the silence. It’s like talking to myself. It’s so depressing.
I’m about to give up when Dr Murphy walks in.
“Hi, Danni. I heard you were visiting. How are you?”
“Okay I guess.”
She looks sympathetic. “It always hits the patient’s family hardest. I expect you were hoping she might be a bit better today?”
I smile. “Stupid, huh?”
“No, it’s perfectly normal. I hoped she’d be showing signs of improvement too. Has she been asking for her mother again?”
“No. Not while I’ve been here, anyway.”
“You realize she only behaves like that because she’s not well right now?”
I nod. “Though when I left yesterday I found out her mother might be alive after all. At least Dad doesn’t know if she is or not.” I stammer to a halt after I’ve blurted it out.
Dr Murphy stares at me intently.
“That’s very interesting, Danni. If it’s true, why do you think she didn’t tell you before?”
“I’ve no idea.” I hesitate a moment. “Maybe she isn’t alive. Dad just said he didn’t know for definite. I could just be clutching at straws, but he’s agreed to help me try and find out.”
“Well I hope you find her,” says Dr Murphy. She smiles at me. “I’ve a hunch you might do – but don’t tell Mr Albright I said that. He’s not a man who is big on hunches.”
For some reason, talking to Dr Murphy is easy. But hearing the consultant’s name reminds me what I wanted to ask.
“What did Mr Albright mean yesterday, when he talked about more radical treatment for Mum?”
Dr Murphy looks serious again.
“He wants to try a treatment we sometimes use in cases of chronic depression, but we need a more accurate diagnosis first. Don’t worry about it for now.” She looks at her watch. “I’d better check my other patients. Call in my office on your way out, if you’ve time, Danni. Your mother had some jewellery with her when she came in, and it’s probably best you take it home with you. It’s not really secure in here.”
I try talking to Mum again when Dr Murphy’s gone, then give up and put the radio on instead. I don’t think Mum notices the difference. Dad has this radio station on in the shop sometimes and I wonder if it’s on now. Dad told me Elliot’s helping in there again today. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him since Saturday night.
A hospital assistant comes in and helps Mum out to the bathroom so she can be washed and changed into her own clothes. I choose an outfit for her, and try to make it something she would choose for herself.
By the time I have to leave to catch the bus, the assistant has got Mum dressed and sitting in a chair. She looks almost normal in her own things, but this makes me feel worse. What if this is as good as it gets? What will I do if she stays like this for ever? I can’t bear to think about it. I kiss her quickly on the cheek.
“Bye, Mum. Try to be better next time. I don’t want you getting Mr Albright’s radical treatment.”
I don’t expect any response, but suddenly she looks directly at me.
“Mam? Find Mam for me?” Her voice is like a child’s. I feel tears welling up. I have to find out if I’m right about my grandmother, and soon.
“I’ll try, Mum. If she’s alive, I’ll find her for you.”
My voice cracks and the tears pour down my cheeks. I leave the room. Mum doesn’t even notice.
I walk quickly down the horrible cabbagey corridor wiping the tears from my eyes. I’m about to escape in the lift when I remember Mum’s jewellery.
I ask the nurse on the desk for directions to Dr Murphy’s office and he sends me back down the corridor. When I think I’ve found the right door, I knock.
“Come in!” Dr Murphy’s accent is unmistakeable. Relieved, I walk in.
“Oh great, Danni, you remembered. Just a minute.” She rifles through all the drawers under her desk and eventually finds a brown envelope with Mum’s name and patient number on it. She hands it to me and smiles.
“Knew it was here somewhere. Unusual necklace, I seem to recall.”
Mum doesn’t have an unusual necklace. She tends to wear simple chains and stud earrings and often doesn’t bother to wear jewellery at all. She hates drawing attention to herself, even though I reckon she’s attractive for her age. I open the envelope quickly and tip the contents out onto my hand. It’s a thick gold chain with a gold crucifix on it. Quite large. Looks like it belongs to a man.
“There must be some mistake. This isn’t Mum’s. I’ve never seen it before.”
Dr Murphy looks at me carefully. “But she was holding on to it so tight, it took us a while to prise her hand open.”
I don’t know why, but I start to panic and I feel like I can’t breathe. Worse, my palms start tingling. I look at the chain again. There’s a weird lump of rusty metal hanging on the chain next to the crucifix. It takes me a moment to realize what it is. It’s a key.
Then I see the water seeping out of the lines in my hands, just like it did before. I close my fist quickly so Dr Murphy doesn’t notice.
“I’ve definitely never seen this before,” I say, my mouth going dry with fear.
“Strange thing to have on a chain, isn’t it? The key I mean. It’s so rusty, it looks like it’s been under water a long time. Anyway, you keep it for now, Danni. It came in with your mum, and maybe when she’s a little better she can say whether it’s hers or not. I don’t like to keep gold in here in case it gets lost or stolen.” She smiles.
“Okay.” I try to smile back, but I can’t stop thinking about my hands. I push the chain into my jacket pocket, wiping my palms on my jeans at the same time.
“Better go. Got to catch a bus in a few minutes.”
I run out before she gets a chance to ask me anything else.
I look at my hands again as soon as I get out of the hospital, dreading what I’m going to see. I’m so scared, I’m shaking. But the sweating seems to have stopped. They look normal. Maybe I’m going mad? It can’t have been as much water as I thought.
I feel my jeans where I wiped my hands. They’re still really damp. My heart sinks.
On the bus, I try to calm down. I’m not going mad, I’m just worried about Mum. It’s nothing.
After a while, I take the chain out of my pocket to look at it more closely. I’ve never known Mum wear a crucifix. I reckon this one’s solid gold. I turn it over and notice there’s an inscription on the back. I hold it up to the window to see it better.
In Nomine Meo Daemonia Eicient.
Strangely, the words look familiar. I think they’re the same as those on the wall at the Chill
Out, but I don’t know Latin so I can’t be sure. It can’t be Mum’s. I’d have seen it before. It’s the kind of thing you’d really notice.
I shove the chain down to the bottom of my rucksack so I don’t lose it, and stare out of the window. I hope she’s well enough to explain everything to me herself soon.
chapter 11
JOSEPH PENGELLY, FISHERMAN.
CAST UNTO THE LORD’S NET AND HAULED UP TO HEAVEN.
Dad, Michelle and I stare silently at the dark granite slab set into the turf. Michelle arrived yesterday. It’s Dad’s turn to look after her for a few days.
We’re standing in the graveyard of a small church just outside Ancrows, the village where Levi and I went with Elliot to the Chill Out club. Someone’s put a bunch of flowers under the inscription. They’ve wilted a lot so it was probably a few days ago. Michelle leans down and flicks a slug off.
My heart clenches and the graveyard suddenly feels colder. Maybe Mum left them here before she went to that beach. The date engraved on the memorial is the same day she went missing. It’s also the anniversary of her father’s death, twenty-two years earlier. Are the dates connected? Is that why she came to Cornwall?
The smell of the decaying flowers hangs in the air. I guess this memorial meant a lot to her, yet she never once brought me here. I feel hurt. I know I asked her several times where her family came from, and she always evaded the question. She said it was a nowhere place she preferred to forget. Once she even told me it wasn’t on the map, which I found really annoying. Everywhere is on a map.
I was hoping this memorial would say something about my grandfather’s wife, or maybe where he came from, so I’m really disappointed. The inscription tells me nothing new, apart from when he died. If I could only find out my grandmother’s first name, it might help me trace her.
“Do you two want to look inside the church while we’re here?” Dad’s breath comes out in a cloud of condensation.