The Mother's Secret

by Clare Swatman

  She feels dizzy and reaches for a chair, sitting down opposite Matt, her chin resting on her hands.

  Matt doesn’t speak for a moment and she carries on, her voice shaky. ‘Plus, think about it, Matt. It explains so much. I mean look at me, for a start. I’m so dark – dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes. Mum and Kate are both fair – and yes, I know Mum’s always said I’ve got Dad’s colouring, but I just don’t buy it. I look nothing like him.’

  Matt still doesn’t seem convinced. Georgie carries on.

  ‘It explains so much about my childhood, too. Think about it. Maybe she was just scared someone would realize who I was, or – I don’t know. I can’t begin to think what was going through her head to do something like this. But she must have been mad, to do it . . . ’ She trails off, her heart hammering, her hands clenched into fists. ‘And it explains some of the weird things she’s been muttering about recently too – being scared about the woman finding out, about keeping it hidden. I thought she was just rambling, but there’s clearly something more to it.’

  Matt’s looking at the newspaper story, reading the words again, just as she’s done so many times since she found it. She waits for him to finish and then she meets his gaze with a question.

  ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

  ‘I – I don’t know, Georgie. I mean, yes, it does seem like a possibility, in theory. But really? Your mum? I mean, I just can’t imagine it. It’s so far-fetched.’

  Georgie shrugs. ‘You see, I don’t think it is. I just think it explains so much that it can’t not be true. I know I’ve told you what it was like growing up, being so smothered, never allowed to go anywhere. But you weren’t there. You can’t really understand it. Only Kate can. And it explains why Mum never wanted me to go abroad, why she always actively discouraged me from going anywhere. I always thought it was because Kate had gone away and she didn’t want to be left alone, and like a fool I stayed, for her. And don’t you remember how she was with us, about us getting married? Remember what she said when we mentioned it?’

  Matt nods. ‘That it was pointless, that marriage ruins good relationships.’

  ‘Exactly. I didn’t think much of it at the time because we weren’t that bothered anyway. But you can see, can’t you? It wasn’t because she didn’t want us to get married – it was because she actually didn’t have my birth certificate, and she couldn’t let me find that out.’ She stops, runs her hands through her hair, unsure what else to say.

  ‘Have you told your mum? About this, I mean?’

  Georgie shakes her head.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t know, Matt. I just wasn’t ready to tell anyone. It’s too big. It changes everything – for her as well.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to.’

  ‘What do you mean? Of course it does. It means our childhood was all a lie. It means – it means I’m not even me.’ Tears are falling down her face now and she wipes them away. Matt moves round the table to her, and runs his thumb gently down her wet cheek.

  ‘You’ll always be you, George. Nobody can ever change that.’

  She shakes her head and buries her face in his chest. ‘But it’s too late. I’ve already changed. I mean – I’ve got a brother, Matt. Think about that.’

  Matt draws her closer and she sinks into his warm chest. ‘I think you should tell Kate.’

  ‘Tell Aunty Kate what?’ Clementine has walked into the room behind them and is crunching down on an apple she’s taken from the bowl on the side. Georgie pulls away from Matt and snatches up the newspaper printouts, gathering the other ones together into a pile quickly before her daughter sees them.

  ‘Nothing. Just something about Grandma.’ Her voice is wobbly and she hopes Clem hasn’t noticed anything. Clem adores her grandmother and she couldn’t bear to see the pain in her eyes if she told her what she’d found. But Clem’s looking at her and then back at her dad with a frown on her face.

  ‘Why are you crying, Mum? What’s going on? Is Grandma ill?’

  ‘No, it’s nothing, love. Honestly. I’m just being silly.’ Her fingers drum the pile of papers on the table and she shivers. She hates lying to her daughter but she doesn’t need to know about this. At least, not yet.

  She needs to talk to her sister first.

  Clem looks at them for a moment longer then shrugs and throws herself on the sofa and starts flicking through her mobile.

  Georgie lowers her voice to a whisper. ‘I will tell her. I’ll speak to her tomorrow, I promise.’ Then she plants a kiss on Matt’s nose and walks up to bed to spend the whole night wide awake.

  Georgie has never been scared to tell Kate anything. But this morning, as she drives over to her house, she can feel her pulse hammering in her temples, her hands slipping on the steering wheel. She’s exhausted and her eyes are puffy, but she has to do this.

  She remembers Kate’s surprise when she rang her this morning.

  ‘I’m here this morning, George, but I’m planning lessons. I’ve got about half an hour if you want to pop over for a coffee.’

  It’s not enough but it’ll have to do, so Georgie had agreed to head over for eleven o’clock. Watching the minutes tick by on the clock in the kitchen all morning had been agony, as she tried not to think about what her sister would say when she told her what she’d found. She wasn’t expecting it to go well.

  Now, as she drives, she’s trying to take her mind off what’s about to happen and finds it drifting, thinking about the past. Mostly, unsurprisingly, about herself and Kate. Their childhood hadn’t exactly been conventional – they’d got used to not having a father around, but it didn’t mean they didn’t question it. Even at the time she knew that things in their home weren’t like most people’s, yet when she tries to think back to an example, she struggles to put her finger on it. Mostly, it was a feeling of being so smothered by their mother’s love that they felt trapped.

  But Kate was always there, they were always together. Best friends, through choice as well as necessity.

  Now, as she drives along the wet street, with the windscreen wipers squeaking occasionally as they try and push away the water spraying up from the road, she thinks back to one day in particular. The only other time she’d been worried about talking to her sister was when she was fourteen.

  This particular day Georgie and Kate had been asked to make dinner while their mum finished some ironing, and it had started well enough. They’d watched Mum leave the kitchen and then Georgie had swung round to face the window over the sink. The sun was forcing its way through the gaps in the open blind and making stripes on the worktop that crept across the floor and up the wall.

  ‘We don’t need to start just yet, do we? Can’t we go outside and sunbathe for a bit first?’ Georgie held her hand up to her face, shielding her eyes as she looked longingly into the garden.

  Kate sneaked a glance back towards the living room, where she could hear the slosh of the water from the new steam iron every time it was moved, the swoosh of the metal against fabric. There was canned laughter from the TV, Mum watching some terrible show like Catchphrase or whatever she found on TV at this time of day.

  ‘It’ll only take ten minutes if we do it together, then we can go outside for a bit. Deal?’

  ‘Yeah, OK, boss.’

  ‘Good.’

  Kate pulled onions and carrots from the fridge and placed them carefully on the side.

  ‘Right, you chop the onions, I’ll peel the carrots.’

  ‘But onions make me cry.’

  ‘Don’t be such a baby.’

  ‘I’m not, you always give me that job.’

  ‘Well, Mum said I was in charge.’

  ‘No, she didn’t!’

  ‘She did. She asked me to cook dinner, and said you had to help me. So that means I’m in charge and you’re chopping the onions.’ She slung the bag of onions across the worktop.

  ‘All right. Bossyboots.’

  The two girls worked in silence for a few minutes,
the only sound that of knives hitting plastic chopping boards. Every now and then Georgie’s head turned towards her sister, and her mouth curled into a shape as though she was about to say something important. But then she thought better of it and snapped her mouth shut, keeping the words trapped inside her head.

  Finally, she couldn’t keep them in any longer, and they flew like butterflies into the open air round their heads.

  ‘Can I tell you a secret?’

  Kate looked at her sister. Georgie’s cheeks had turned pink and a smile teased the edges of her lips.

  ‘Always.’ Kate had stopped chopping carrots and was watching Georgie’s face carefully. It seemed to be lit up from the inside, and Kate stayed perfectly still as she waited for her sister to form the words she wanted to say.

  ‘It’s about Matt. And me.’

  Kate had waited, not saying anything.

  ‘We . . . we want to sleep together.’

  Kate’s cheeks reddened and she tore her eyes away from her sister’s face immediately.

  ‘Kate? Did you hear me?’

  Kate nodded, watching the knife slice deftly through the carrots on the board in front of her.

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice is croaky and she clears her throat.

  ‘Well? Are you going to say anything?’

  Kate shook her head and looked back at her little sister.

  ‘Sorry, George, I just—’ She stopped, unsure what to say.

  At the time Georgie had just thought her sister was being a bit weird about it, but now, of course, she understands that her sister was jealous. Not of Matt, necessarily, but of Georgie, having a boyfriend. Of them being ready to sleep together. Poor old Kate was older than her and had never even been kissed by a boy.

  A tear fell down Kate’s cheek and she wiped it away quickly, but not before Georgie noticed.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Georgie peered more closely at her sister. ‘Are you crying?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘No, of course not. Sorry. It must be the onions.’

  A crease troubled Georgie’s forehead for a minute, and a shadow passed across the sun, turning the room a few shades darker. Then the moment was over and Kate pasted a smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes, glanced behind her to the living room where the TV was chuntering on, the iron still slipping quietly over cloth. ‘Let’s shove everything in the pot and then we can go outside and talk.’

  They scraped onions and carrots into the pan, then tipped in mince and a tin of tomatoes and stuck the lid on.

  ‘It’ll be all right for a bit.’

  Kate grabbed the key from the hook above the door and let them out into the warm sunshine, closing the door behind them quietly so Mum didn’t hear. The sun was still strong, but a breeze passed through the garden every now and then, making the leaves in the tops of the trees dance, and the hairs on their arms stand on end. They plonked themselves on the grass, in a small patch of sun not shaded by wall or fence or tree. They could hear the clip, clip, clip of secateurs as Mr Pritchard from next door but one snipped at non-existent stray shoots of hedge. A dog barked somewhere a few streets away and a young child screamed with delight in the garden behind. Georgie lay right back, folding her arms under her head like a pillow, while Kate stayed sitting, tipping her face up towards the sun. An aeroplane weaved its way lazily across the pale-blue sky, leaving a fluffy trail behind it.

  ‘OK, come on. Spill. Tell me you haven’t already done it, George?’

  Georgie glanced over to the back door.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mum can’t hear us out here.’

  Georgie, reassured, looked at Kate with a smile on her face. Her cheeks were flushed.

  ‘I – I know it’s awkward, Katie, but – well, I can’t talk to Mum about this, can I? She’s not exactly thrilled that me and Matt are even going out. But – I need your help.’

  ‘My help? What for?’

  Georgie shuffled into a sitting position and a breeze lifted her skirt for a moment, exposing tanned, slender legs. Kate stared at her own pale, chunky legs poking out of the bottom of her sensible school uniform.

  ‘I need some—’ Georgie stopped, her cheeks reddening even more.

  ‘You want me to get you some condoms, don’t you?’

  Georgie nodded, staring at her toes.

  ‘But Georgie, you’re only fourteen!’

  ‘I’m nearly fifteen! And anyway, that’s why I need to ask you. I won’t get them, but you’re old enough.’

  ‘You’re fourteen and a half, and I really don’t think you’ve thought this through, Georgie.’

  ‘But Kate. Please. I’d do it for you if I could, you know I would.’

  Kate’s face softened and Georgie knew she was going to agree to it. She’d do anything for her little sister.

  Kate let out a huge sigh, her cheeks puffing out.

  ‘OK. I’ll do it.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Kate. You’re an angel.’ Georgie leaned over and threw her arms round her sister’s neck.

  ‘But—’ Kate pulled away stiffly. ‘There’s one condition.’

  Georgie nodded.

  ‘Promise me you’ll be careful. And don’t tell anyone.’

  ‘That’s two conditions.’

  ‘Georgie.’ Kate’s voice was sharp.

  ‘OK. I promise. I don’t want to get you into trouble.’

  ‘I don’t want Mum to find out either. She’d kill me for doing this. She’d probably disown me.’

  ‘I won’t breathe a word. Thank you, Katie. You’re the best.’

  ‘I know.’

  A loud cry pierced the air, and there was a bang as the back door flew open. ‘For goodness’ sake, girls, I ask you to do one thing, and you can’t even do that properly!’

  They both leapt to their feet guiltily.

  ‘We’ve put dinner on, we were just having a break.’

  ‘Well, I think you’d better come and see the state of the dinner before you tell me that. It’s burnt to a crisp.’

  The two girls slunk back inside guiltily. At the time they’d been mortified but now, remembering it, Georgie can’t help smiling. She loves thinking about the past, about the things they did together. But now, it hurts. Because now, it feels as though it was all a lie. As though it had happened to someone else.

  As though it’s all fading away like the images on an old photograph.

  It’s with these memories jostling for attention in her head that Georgie finds herself pulling up outside her sister’s house. Her hands are shaking as she parks and glances at the familiar house, the roses climbing up the front, neatly pruned, the solid black front door, the dazzlingly white window frames surrounding immaculately clean windows. Kate loves to keep her home in order, and her garden is no exception. Today, though, Georgie sees it through different eyes. Today she’s here to tell her sister something that could destroy everything they’ve ever known.

  She draws in a lungful of air and lets it escape slowly through her lips, trying to quell the dizziness. She checks in her bag one more time for the folder of cuttings, and reads through the top one again, the words already so familiar that they barely register any more. She tries to see them the way her sister might see them, but fails. For the first time ever, she has no idea how Kate is going to react.

  She takes a deep breath. She can’t put it off any longer.

  Shoving the papers back into the folder, Georgie unclips the seat belt and climbs out of the car. Her heart hammers as she walks up the garden path, and she shakes her head. This is ridiculous. This is Kate, the person she loves most in all the world – apart from Matt and Clem, of course. The person she’s shared her closest secrets with, her darkest fears. There’s nothing to be scared of.

  She presses the bell and seconds later her sister’s footsteps can be heard approaching the door. She can feel the panic rising in her chest and takes a gulp of air just as Kate flings the door open with a warm smile. It quickly becomes a frown when she sees Georgie’s face, and Georgie’s heart
plummets.

  ‘Georgie, what on earth’s the matter? You look like you’re about to be sick.’

  ‘I’m OK.’ She knows she’s unconvincing but she needs to bide her time. She can’t rush this and blurt it all out on the doorstep, it would be wrong and unfair.

  Kate steps aside, her face folded into creases, and Georgie slips her shoes off and walks down the hallway to the kitchen. The patio doors are flung open and a cool breeze ripples through the room. The rain has stopped now but the edge of the tiled floor is speckled with raindrops and water runs down the glass. The smell of coffee wafts through the air from the expensive coffee machine, and two cups sit side by side on the gleaming marble worktop. There’s not a crumb in sight or a plate out of place, just a neat pile of papers where Kate’s been working. Georgie pulls herself onto a stool at the island, aware of Kate’s eyes watching her from the doorway, a puzzled look on her face.

  For the first time since she arrived Georgie lets herself look at her sister properly. Her fair hair is cut into a neat bob round her face, her nose long and straight, her narrow lips pinched even tighter together so they’re almost non-existent. She’s on the plump side, her choice of sensible clothing not helping to disguise the growing thickness of her waist, the increasing appearance of a bosom rather than breasts. Her skin is pale, almost translucent, like their mother’s – or rather, Kate’s mother’s, thinks Georgie bitterly. Georgie, on the other hand, is dark; her hair is so dark it’s almost a shimmering black, her skin a shade lighter than olive. She’s tiny, too, her frame dwarfed by Kate’s solidity. It’s so obvious they’re not related she can’t believe they never thought of it before. They’d just assumed she looked like their father who, from the one picture they’d seen, they knew was dark and mysterious. But maybe she doesn’t look like him either.

  So who on earth does she resemble? That woman in the photo, grief making her look old before her time? The random man her birth mother had a fling with? It’s impossible to tell.

  She tears her eyes away from her sister: the sister who’s always been so familiar and who now looks like a stranger standing in front of her, their contrasting appearances almost taunting Georgie, and she looks down at her hands. They’re shaking and she shoves them underneath her thighs to try and keep them still.