The Mother's Secret

by Clare Swatman

  Georgie looked at Kate. ‘Was that weird?’

  Kate nodded. ‘Yes, it was a bit. It was probably just a shock.’ She sounded uncertain, though.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure it was just that.’

  And without saying another word they went back to the table to carry on with dinner. Nobody ever spoke about Jan’s strange reaction again.

  It’s been a few days since Georgie last saw her mum.

  She yanks a dress over her head and tugs a brush through her hair, and she thinks about Clem and how she’d feel if she ever lost her. She just can’t do it.

  Clem used to follow her round everywhere like a little shadow, always wanting to be where her mum was. Now, of course, at eleven, Clem has a whole part of her life that Georgie knows nothing about, and it feels as though a piece of her heart is missing.

  Georgie had promised herself, when Clem was born, that she was never going to give her a childhood like the one her mother had given her. She wanted her little girl to grow up with a sense of freedom, the kind she had never known. Even if Georgie did want to wrap her daughter up in cotton wool, and keep her in the house every single day of her life, she’d never actually do it. She smooths her hair down, takes one last glance in the mirror, then goes downstairs and snatches her keys from the side.

  It doesn’t take long to drive the familiar route to her mother’s house and as she pulls up outside she feels a sense of dread descend over her like a veil. It feels as though the atmosphere has thickened, making it hard to pull the air into her lungs, and she gasps, telling herself to calm down.

  She climbs out of the car and walks up the short path to rap lightly on the door. She has a key but she doesn’t feel now is the time to let herself in. Seconds later the door swings open and Aunty Sandy is standing there, a soft, gentle smile playing on her lips.

  ‘Hello, Georgie. Good to see you.’ She hugs her briefly and Georgie breathes in the familiar scent of her mother’s oldest friend, then Sandy steps aside to let Georgie pass. As Georgie walks into the living room she almost gasps. Jan is perched on the hard edge of the sofa, her whole body tense, hands clenched in her lap, a stern expression painted onto her face. She looks tiny, frail, and Georgie looks at Sandy, who shrugs, then looks back at her mother. She has to get this over and done with, however hard it is.

  ‘Mum, I need to talk to you about something.’ Georgie keeps her voice soft and watches her mother’s face as she speaks. Jan’s refusing to look her in the eye and Georgie wonders whether she’s somehow worked out what she’s going to say. But how could she have done? It’s been thirty-seven years; surely she hasn’t guessed today, of all days, that Georgie’s found out the truth?

  ‘Your mum’s upset because you’ve ruined her plans for the day,’ Sandy says, her voice low.

  ‘It’s OK, Sandy, I don’t need you to explain anything for me, I can speak for myself.’

  ‘I know you can, Jan, but Georgie looked confused. Why don’t you tell her, then, why you’re cross?’

  Jan looks at her daughter and then shifts her gaze to slightly above Georgie’s left shoulder and fixes it on the wall behind her. ‘You, young lady, have spoilt everything today. I was meant to be going out with your father but now I’ve had to cancel that to come here and see you.’ She almost spits this last word, as though seeing her younger daughter is the last thing in the world she wants to be doing. Georgie stares at her mother, shocked. She doesn’t know what to say. She knew Jan had been going downhill recently; Kate had told her how she’d been behaving. But seeing it with her own eyes, Georgie’s shocked at just how much worse Jan seems since the last time she saw her.

  Sandy places her hand gently on top of her friend’s. ‘You weren’t meeting their father, Jan. He’s dead, remember? We’ve talked about this.’

  Jan looks at Sandy, who’s perched herself carefully next to her on the sofa. Jan’s face is still angry. ‘Of course he’s not dead, don’t be ridiculous. I only saw him this morning. What a horrible thing to say.’ She snatches her hand away and cradles it in the other one on her lap. She turns back towards Georgie. ‘Now, what did you want to talk to me about? Let’s get it over with.’

  Georgie looks at Sandy in desperation. She can’t do this now, not with her mother in this state. Jan’s agitation seems to be growing by the minute, her hands in her lap moving over each other again and again, round and round like a washing machine. Sandy shrugs. ‘I think it’s probably best just to ask whatever it is you need to ask her, love.’

  ‘OK.’ Georgie takes a deep breath, wondering how to phrase it. She’d been so angry before she got here; she’d planned to come in here today and blurt it out, shock her mother into telling her the truth. But now that she’s seen her mother – Jan – her anger has softened into something else, and she’s not sure it will get her anywhere. Instead, she plucks one of the newspaper clippings from her pocket where she’s folded it neatly before she left, unfolds it and places it on the table in front of her mother and Jan, smoothing it flat, just like she’d done with Kate, and Matt before that. It seems to be the best way, to let people work it out for themselves. Jan’s eyes flick down towards the cutting and she leans forward to read it. As she takes it in her eyes widen and her face turns ghostly white. Georgie looks at Sandy but she looks almost exactly the same, her eyes wide, her face white, staring at the words in front of her. Both women sit like that for a moment, as though time has stood still.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ Jan’s voice is almost a shriek, and she snatches the cutting up, screws it into a ball and throws it across the room. Georgie gasps and, as though it’s snapped Sandy out of her trance, she looks up at Georgie as well, her face painted with shock.

  ‘I – I found it. At the library.’

  Jan stands suddenly, her legs shaking so much it looks as though she might fall straight back down again. ‘Why? Why did you feel the need to go poking your nose around things that don’t concern you?’ Sandy puts her hand softly on Jan’s forearm, pulling her gently to make Jan sit back down again. As she does, Jan lands with a thump, and falls back into the cushions of the sofa.

  Sandy speaks next, her voice shaky.

  ‘I’m not sure this is a good time to talk about this with your mum. She’s not having a great day,’ Sandy pleads, trying to catch Georgie’s eye.

  ‘It’s never a good time,’ Georgie snaps. ‘But I want to know what my mother has to say about this.’

  She looks at Sandy defiantly, then back at Jan. Jan has wrapped her arms round her chest and is staring at a spot on the floor. She seems to have withdrawn into herself, to be utterly detached from everything, and Georgie’s sure she’s wasting her time. But then she realizes her mother’s lips are moving and she leans forward to try and make out what she’s saying.

  And then she hears the words.

  ‘I loved you, I loved you. You were mine.’

  Part Two

  Jan

  5

  1975

  I can always tell when someone new arrives in town. Cromer’s only a small place and it’s as though the air has shifted somehow to make room for an extra body.

  And that’s exactly what happened the day Ray Wood came into town, because he certainly made a big impact. On me, at least.

  I saw him first. Shirley will tell you she did but I spotted him a good five minutes before she piped up, only I kept my mouth shut and just sat and watched him as he climbed off his motorbike and smoked a cigarette by the sea wall. I watched as he sucked in his cheeks, pulling the smoke deep into his lungs, then parting his lips to let it curl out into the air, to be swept away by the wind and across the sea. He smoked quickly, his leather jacket stretched tight across his shoulders, his dark hair unruly, ruffled by his helmet and the wind. A real life Elvis Presley, right here in Cromer.

  He had his back to us at first so he hadn’t seen us. We were sitting in our usual lunch break spot outside the Bluebird Café, sipping cold lemonade, gossiping, with our cardigans pulled tight round
our shoulders. Pamela was telling us about the date she’d been on the night before and laughter filled the sea air. I carried on pretending to listen, looking over and smiling every now and then so they didn’t notice I was distracted.

  Then Shirley’s voice carried across the table and into my ears. ‘Hey, check him out.’ I knew she was looking at Ray – although I didn’t know he was Ray then, of course – and I whipped my head round with the others to see where she was pointing, as though I didn’t know who she was talking about. We all watched him for a few seconds in a kind of awed silence. He was looking in our direction now, although he was too far away for us to make out his features clearly. He was scanning the buildings along the seafront, his head moving slowly backwards and forwards as though searching for something. Then his head stopped moving and I realized he was looking at us, that he’d spotted us gawping at him, and I felt blood rush to my face.

  ‘He’s seen us,’ I hissed, and grabbed my cold glass and took a sip.

  ‘So?’ Sandy’s voice was laughing.

  ‘Oh God, he’s walking over here.’ Pamela’s voice.

  I was dying to look up and watch him as he approached but I didn’t want him or anyone else to think I was interested, so I kept my eyes trained on the tabletop, on the smudges of black on the stainless-steel surface, my eyes tracing the drops of lemonade that had spilled from my glass, and willed myself not to look up.

  A few moments passed, then a dark shadow passed across the table and I was acutely aware that someone was standing just to my left, blocking the hazy sun.

  ‘Hello, ladies.’ His voice was unexpectedly loud and deep, and I squinted up at him, shading my eyes with my hand. He was nothing more than a silhouette against the bright sky and I felt vulnerable knowing he could see my face but I couldn’t see his.

  ‘Hi.’ Pamela sounded silly and girly and I rolled my eyes.

  ‘I—’ He paused for a moment as though uncertain what to say next. ‘Do you all live here?’

  The sound of nodding can be surprisingly loud, and it filled the air for a moment.

  ‘Great.’ His voice was quieter now and I could detect a London accent, the edges of his words short and staccato next to our blurred Norfolk ones. ‘Don’t suppose you could point me in the direction of the nearest garage? My bike’s making a really strange noise.’

  It was ridiculous but I felt disappointed. This meant, surely, that he wasn’t stopping here for long, that he was just passing through and that we’d probably never see him again. I wasn’t sure why a lump formed in my chest at the thought of it, but it did, and I knew I had to say something before anyone else did.

  ‘I’ll show you.’ I jumped up and as I stood I saw his face properly for the first time. Soft stubble threaded its way across his chin and neck, and his eyes were dark, set deep in his head. His nose was straight and long and his lips full, slightly parted to reveal straight, even teeth. His hair was swept back from his face now, and he ran a hand through it.

  ‘Oh thanks.’ He smiled and creases appeared at the corners of his eyes, softening his face. I knew the girls were all watching me, wondering what I was up to, but I refused to look at any of them and instead turned and walked purposefully away, across the road and towards the sea. I glanced behind me only once to make sure he was following, but I kept going until I reached the spot where his motorbike was parked by the seafront. Then I stopped, my heart thudding wildly. This was so unlike me. I wasn’t sure why, but there was something about this stranger that was making me behave a little out of character. I watched him take the last few steps towards me and I smiled at him, holding my skirt down with one hand as the wind threatened to blow it up.

  ‘So—’ I stopped, unsure what to say, suddenly shy.

  ‘So,’ he repeated, his eyes not leaving mine. ‘Where to?’

  My mind raced with endless possibilities, of places I’d like to go with him. But I knew what he meant.

  ‘Shall I come with you, show you? It’s not easy to find.’ I nodded towards the motorbike. I’d never been on one before and the thought thrilled and terrified me at the same time.

  He looked at the bike and back at me. ‘I haven’t got another helmet, but . . . ’

  ‘It’ll be OK. It’s only just up the road.’

  He shrugged. ‘If you’re sure?’

  I nodded, trying not to show him how nervous I felt.

  ‘Right then, hop on behind me.’

  I climbed onto the bike, hooking my leg over the seat, tucking my skirt under my thighs and wrapping my arms around his body. My face pressed against his leather jacket and I tried not to think about how close I was to this complete stranger. He swivelled his head.

  ‘I’m Ray, by the way.’

  ‘I’m Jan.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Jan.’ Then he kick-started the bike and whisked me away, up the hill, and towards adventures unknown.

  OK, so that was a bit dramatic. But Ray did sweep me off my feet that day, without even really trying. There was just something about the darkness of his eyes, the dimple that appeared in his cheek when he smiled – which he did, often – and the hint of danger about him, that hit me in the middle of my chest and left me feeling a bit winded.

  He got his motorbike fixed that day, and we chatted as we waited. There was a cigarette constantly on the go, and Ray would blow smoke into my face, which I tried to bat away without him noticing. I couldn’t bear the smell but I didn’t want him to know that. He was twenty-two, three years older than me, but he seemed much older, with a wise head on his narrow shoulders.

  ‘It’s been very nice to meet you, Jan.’ He strapped his helmet on and climbed onto his bike. ‘Will you give me your phone number so I can ring you? I’d very much like to see you again.’

  As my head spun and my heart leapt into my throat, I somehow managed to find a pen to scribble down on the back of an old receipt my phone number at the clothes shop where I worked, and passed it to him with shaking hands.

  He glanced at it. ‘I promise I’ll call you, OK?’

  I nodded. ‘OK.’

  And then he left. I watched him wind his way down the hill until he disappeared round the corner and out of sight, and then I let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding, in one big whoosh.

  He did ring – it took him a good few days, mind you. Days when I moped around the flat I shared with my friend Sandy until I got on her nerves so much that she took me out to the pub one night and got me drunk on Babycham.

  I cried, of course. Lost love, and all that.

  ‘Don’t be crazy, you only met the man for an hour. You’ve got to pull yourself together. Anyway, it’s only been five minutes since you split up with Alan. You’re just on the rebound.’

  Poor Alan. Safe, boring Alan from the office above the shop, who just nodded with resigned acceptance when I said I didn’t think it was working between us. ‘We’re better just being friends,’ I’d told him, although we both knew we probably wouldn’t even be that, and he’d looked like a little lost dog who’d been abandoned on the side of the road as he’d accepted his fate. It wasn’t as though we’d exactly set the world on fire, though: holding hands in the cinema and sharing milkshakes in the seafront cafe was as exciting as it had got. It was no great loss.

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. I’m being pathetic . . . ’

  ‘A little.’

  I shook my head. I could always trust Sandy to be there for me, and I always knew she’d tell it to me straight. Sometimes, though, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

  So I think she was as relieved as I was – but for very different reasons – when the phone pealed out through the shop the following day and it turned out to be Ray. Sandy had answered and I knew from the smirk on her face as she handed over the receiver who it was. My hand shook as I took it from her.

  ‘Hello?’ The quiver was clear in my voice and I coughed to cover it up.

  ‘Is that Jan?’ His voice was tinny and distant.

  ‘
Uh-huh.’ Smooth.

  ‘Jan, it’s me. Ray. We met the other day.’ As if he needed to remind me who he was. The sound of his voice made me want to squeal, and I turned my face away from Sandy’s stare to look at the wall.

  ‘Hello, Ray.’

  ‘I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to ring you. I wasn’t trying to be mysterious. I’ve just – been busy. You know.’ I could almost hear the shrug down the phone. I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me.

  ‘It’s OK.’

  The next few seconds of silence felt like days but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I’d never been very good at this sort of thing, especially over the telephone. Phones made me a bit nervous. Instead we both stayed silent, listening to the crackle and hum of the telephone line, while I twirled the cable into knots round my finger. I could hear Sandy sighing loudly in the background and I turned and glared at her until she got the hint and walked slowly into the tiny kitchen at the back of the shop.

  ‘So—’

  ‘I just—’ We both spoke at the same time and then laughed in unison. It felt like a bad script and I just wanted the conversation to be over.

  ‘Go on, you go first.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘I was thinking. D’you fancy going out for a ride on the bike? I thought we could go up the coast?’

  I nodded again. ‘I’d love that.’

  ‘Great, excellent.’

  Another silence. ‘I’m free tomorrow?’

  ‘Tomorrow? I, er—’ He paused. ‘Yes, tomorrow is good.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘So shall I pick you up at, say, eleven?’

  ‘Yes, great.’ My mind spun, desperate to find something else to say, but it only drew a blank. I had to hope words would reappear in the morning. ‘See you tomorrow, then.’