The Mother's Secret

by Clare Swatman

  ‘Love oo mumma.’

  I dropped the plate, the crumbs scattering everywhere again, and wrapped my arms right round her, pulling her as close as I could. She smelt of shampoo and sandwiches and grass and I breathed in her scent. She looked up at me.

  ‘Mumma sad?’

  ‘What? No, Mummy’s not sad.’

  She pointed at my face and I realized it was soaked with tears.

  I wiped them away and gave her a weak smile. ‘They’re happy tears. Mummy’s happy, because she has you, that’s all.’ I kissed her head.

  ‘Ge-ge kiss too.’ She pointed at her little sister and we both leaned down to kiss her soft, warm head. I watched them both, in the glowing heat of the fire, and my heart swelled with love. These two girls were the only reason my heart hadn’t broken in two when I lost Ray and then my baby. They were the only thing helping to mend it, slowly. I couldn’t lose them too. The pain would be too much to bear.

  I stood and brushed the crumbs from the floor again and headed into the kitchen. I ran water into the sink and plunged my hands into the soapy suds and stared out of the window at the garden beyond. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the pile of soil that had been disturbed at the end, by the shed, where my baby was buried. I had to concentrate on the two girls I had and try to forget about it.

  So instead I stared blankly out of the window as I thought about everything that had happened in the days since, and I thought about that newspaper cutting, the sad, desperate eyes of the baby’s mother. I knew what I’d done was wrong. I knew I should come forward and give Georgie back to her rightful parents.

  But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

  I’d lose everything.

  Instead I had to hope that nobody would realize it was me, and I had to keep my girls safe.

  I vowed to never let them leave me. Ever.

  Over the next few weeks I tortured myself; I bought the local paper every day and scoured it for updates, trying to work out if the police were any closer to discovering who had taken baby Louisa. Trying to work out whether I was one step closer to losing my children, or one step closer to being able to keep them with me forever.

  It had become part of the daily routine for us. We’d get up and dressed and walk to the shop, buy milk, bread and the paper, then go home and read it. It was like an obsession, but in a strange way I was glad of the routine. It brought some structure to the day.

  Sandy still hadn’t come back to see me. I knew she was probably hurt and confused about why I’d treated her like that, shutting her out. But I didn’t have a phone, and I wasn’t sure what her new number was, so I couldn’t even ring her from a phone box. I just had to wait and hope she came round again. I was sure she would.

  I didn’t have any visitors most of the time. Mrs Doyle from next door had popped round once, though. I’d been feeding Georgie; she was sucking greedily on her bottle and I answered the door awkwardly, still holding her in my arms.

  ‘Hello, dear. I’m sorry to bother you but I thought you might like these.’ She held out a small wicker basket covered with a white tea towel. ‘It’s just some scones I made yesterday and there are far too many for me. I thought you and your little one – ’ she nodded at Kate who’d popped her head round the living-room door – ‘could enjoy some.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’

  Realizing I couldn’t take them from her, and that I wasn’t going to invite her in, she hovered for a moment longer then bent down and placed them just inside the door.

  ‘I’ll just – I’ll leave them there for you, then.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She hesitated, looking at me and Georgie for a moment longer. ‘Let me know if you need any help with, you know, anything. I’m always here.’

  I was so overwhelmed at her kindness but didn’t dare let myself cry in case I never stopped, so I took a breath and whispered ‘Thank you’ one more time and then closed the door. I knew I seemed rude but I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, to try and explain anything, not yet.

  And so I carried on, following the story, watching for new developments, waking up each day wondering whether today was the day.

  I was constantly on edge. I felt as though my chest was full, my breathing shallow, my shoulders hunched and tight. Staying inside our four walls as much as possible, just me and the girls, felt like the only way to survive.

  And then one day the news changed slightly. The stories in the paper had been getting smaller every day, becoming lost amongst the adverts for washing powder and department store openings, and I’d started to believe that, with the press forgetting the story bit by bit, perhaps the police were too.

  But this day, 5 December 1979, eleven days after I’d taken Georgie, there was a new development. The police had a suspect.

  The headline outside the shop made me stop dead, of course, and I almost threw up on the pavement. I even looked round, half expecting there to be a police officer behind me, waiting to arrest me there and then. I picked the paper up and read it at once, trying to keep my hands steady. The relief, when it came, was so great, I felt as though my legs might fail beneath me, collapsing like jelly onto the concrete.

  The suspect wasn’t me.

  In fact, it was even better news than that. The police were now focusing their attention on the father’s sister. From what I could piece together, Kimberley and the twins’ father weren’t together, and he had more or less disappeared. Samuel – the other twin – and Kimberley were living with her mother, Margaret. And it was the missing father’s sister, Sheila, that the police were looking for now. They didn’t say why.

  I read it three times to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood, but it seemed I hadn’t. I wasn’t naive enough to think that it was all over for me, that I needn’t worry again. But it did mean that, while they were looking for someone else, they weren’t looking for me. And the longer it went on, the less likely they were ever going to look for me.

  With Kate toddling along beside me I pushed the pram inside the shop again, and went to the counter to pay. I had got to know the lady behind the counter quite well by now, as I saw her every day, and I now knew her name was Joyce. She smiled as we approached, and I placed the paper on the counter and smiled back. I was still shaking.

  She nodded at it. ‘Terrible business, this, isn’t it?’

  I didn’t dare look down at the paper again so I tried to keep my face blank. ‘Yes, awful.’

  She looked down at Georgie asleep in the pram and a roaring started in my ears. Had she . . . Would she . . . ?

  ‘I mean, just imagine if it was your little one. It would be – it would be like torture, wouldn’t it, not knowing where she was? That poor mother.’ She looked at me and I realized she was waiting for an answer.

  ‘Yes. It’s the worst possible thing imaginable.’

  We both stood for a moment, looking at Georgie. The roaring in my ears got louder. Then Joyce sighed heavily and said, ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  ‘No. No, it doesn’t.’

  A beat of silence, then we moved on. ‘Anyway, anything else I can get you today?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, just the paper, thanks.’

  ‘Ten pence, please.’

  I handed her the coins and started to back out of the door.

  ‘You know, I do mean it, about helping out,’ she said. ‘It must be tough for you, with the two littl’uns. If you ever need a break, or anything at all, you will ask, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I will. Thank you.’ I carried on backing out, desperate to get some air, and then I stopped.

  ‘Actually, there is something.’

  I saw her face light up. ‘Oh, what?’

  ‘I need to earn some money but I can’t leave the girls. I was thinking about starting to do some ironing, or clothes repairing, something I can do from home. Do you think it would work, that people would, you know, want that sort of thing?’

  She nodded. ‘Ooh, yes, I’m sure they would. Esp
ecially if I put in a good word for you.’ She reached under the counter and brought up a pile of postcards. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you put an ad in the window? And I’ll tell people about you too.’

  I didn’t like the idea of my address being up for all to see, or the thought of people I didn’t know knocking on my door. But, despite everything that was going on, I knew I had to earn some money. I was almost out of it and we had rent and food to pay for. We couldn’t live on fresh air.

  ‘Yes, OK. Thank you.’

  I scribbled my details down and she took the card from me, resting her hand on mine on the counter. ‘I’ll find you some work, don’t you worry.’ It was the first human contact I’d had other than with the girls for weeks, and it felt surprisingly good. I smiled and then turned and left. I could see her Blu-tacking the ad to the window before I was even out of sight.

  It wasn’t until I was back at home and had Kate safely installed in her highchair with a drink and a snack that I had time to really think about what this new development meant for me. I smoothed the paper down and read it again, devouring the details. I hadn’t misunderstood. It looked as though I was safe, for now at least. As I read it for the umpteenth time the doorbell ding-donged round the little house and I nearly fell over. Surely my advert hadn’t worked that quickly? Perhaps it was Mrs Doyle again.

  Leaving Kate in her highchair and Georgie sleeping peacefully in her pram, I walked towards the front door. It wasn’t until I was almost halfway there that it occurred to me it could be the police. The story this morning could have been a red herring. Perhaps they’d tracked me down and didn’t want me to do a runner.

  My heart hammered as I walked slowly towards the door. I wasn’t sure I could take all this stress; I was going to end up having a heart attack. I reached out and pushed the handle down, then pulled the door towards me, peering round it.

  ‘Sandy!’

  The relief was so great I threw the door open, rushed towards her and wrapped her in a tight hug. She pulled away and looked at me quizzically.

  ‘You OK, Jan?’

  I nodded, unable to speak in case the tears started. I’d been desperate to see her, but terrified she’d never come again. Now she was here, I wanted her to stay forever.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘What? Oh yes, sorry, course.’ I stepped back and she walked in, shaking her jacket off and hanging it on the peg to the side of the door. The sight of her, the smell, the sheer presence of her, was so familiar, I felt a lump form in my throat. I’d been so lonely, and now she was here. My best friend.

  We went through to the kitchen and Sandy walked straight up to Kate and scooped her out of her highchair. ‘Hello, little one, I’ve missed you.’ Kate giggled wildly as Sandy lifted her high into the air above her head. She brought her down and shifted her to one side, balancing her on her hip. Her eyes flicked down to my belly and my heart stopped again as her face was pulled into a question mark.

  ‘I know I haven’t seen you for a while, but – you’ve had the baby and you haven’t even told me?’

  My face flamed and I couldn’t answer. Sandy looked round the room and saw the pram in the corner. She walked over and peered inside, and my heart hammered so hard I thought I was going to fall over. Sandy knew me so well, would she notice anything was wrong? She stayed like that for a few moments, just watching Georgie sleep. I’d had a story planned, that the baby had come early and it had been such a shock I wasn’t ready, and I wasn’t ready to see anyone either, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead I just stood there, desperate for her to say something, anything, even if it was bad. I just couldn’t stand the silence.

  ‘She looks like her dad, don’t you think?’

  The words were out before I could even think about them, edit them, as though they’d been lurking, waiting to be tried out.

  Sandy turned her head towards me, then looked back at Georgie, and back at me again. ‘Yes. Yes, I suppose that must be where she gets her dark hair from.’ She watched me thoughtfully for a few more seconds and her gaze was so intense I felt as though she could see right inside my head, to my deepest, darkest thoughts. But then her face broke into a smile.

  ‘She’s beautiful, darling. I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me, especially as she must have come so early.’

  ‘Yes, sorry. I – it turns out I got the dates wrong. You know, it’s not that accurate. I must have fallen pregnant before I thought, and – well, it was a shock and I just didn’t get the chance to tell you, but – I kept thinking about walking up to the phone box to ring you at work, but I just – well, it’s tough, that’s all.’ I knew I was jabbering but I needed to fill the silence.

  ‘I know. That’s why I thought I’d come over and try to see you again. Because I thought it must just be your hormones, giving you such a tough time. Plus, I missed you.’

  ‘I missed you too. So much. I wish you lived nearer.’

  ‘I know. Me too. Maybe I’ll move here. You know, soon.’ She shrugged awkwardly.

  ‘You’d be nearer to Mal as well, I suppose, then, wouldn’t you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Me and Mal are no more, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh no, what happened?’

  She shrugged again. ‘We just weren’t suited. Plus he was sick of me talking about you all the time. Said it was as though you meant more to me than he did. Thought I should forget about you, leave you be. Well, I wasn’t having any of that. Stupid bugger.’ She smiled sadly and my heart nearly broke for her.

  ‘Oh Sandy, I’m so sorry.’

  She nodded. ‘It’s OK. And he was right, really. You are more important to me than him. Which says a lot.’ She smiled sadly again. ‘Anyway, let’s sit down, shall we, this one’s getting heavy.’

  ‘Yes. Do you want tea first?’

  ‘In a minute. Sit first.’ I sat and she took the chair opposite me, placing Kate carefully on the kitchen floor. She toddled off to find some toys.

  ‘So. How are you? I mean, obviously you’ve got – oh my goodness, I haven’t even asked what her name is.’

  ‘Georgie. It’s Georgina Rae Wood.’

  She snapped her head round to look at me. ‘You’re giving her Ray’s surname, then?’

  I frowned. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘I don’t know. Sorry. Of course you would, of course she’d have the same surname as you and Kate. I just thought – well, I don’t know what I was thinking, truth be told. Ignore me.’

  Her face was red and she looked flustered. I wondered what she’d been about to say but I didn’t dare ask. I wasn’t sure I’d really want to hear the answer.

  ‘I’ve been OK, thanks. Coping.’

  ‘Bet it’s been hard, on your own?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes. I miss Ray, all the time.’ I couldn’t tell her about the baby I’d lost too. That would have to stay my secret, locked up inside my heart forever.

  ‘I know.’

  There was a moment of silence. ‘Do you want tea now?’ I jumped up, desperate for something to do. It felt weird, being this anxious around Sandy. But I was terrified she’d see straight through me and see what I’d done, if I let her.

  ‘Yes, tea would be lovely, thanks.’

  I put a pan of water on the hob and leaned against the counter. ‘Do you want to hold her when she wakes up?’ I glanced at the clock. ‘In fact, she’s due for a feed soon, you can give her her bottle if you like?’

  ‘I’d love that, thank you.’ Her words sounded stilted, but I put it down to the fact I’d shut the door in her face last time she’d tried to help me. Anyone would be cautious after that.

  As if on cue, a loud cry pierced the air. I lifted Georgie from her cot and placed her gently in Sandy’s arms. Sandy gazed down at her. Would she notice she looked nothing like me or Ray? Would she ever suspect?

  Sandy turned her face to me, tears shining in her eyes. ‘She really is beautiful, Jan.’

  ‘Thank you.’ The words were a whisper, barely aud
ible above the noise coming from Georgie’s lungs, and as Sandy watched me intently for a few seconds I felt as though I must be giving myself away, somehow. But then the moment passed.

  ‘Right, where’s that bottle, then? There’s a little girl who’s desperate for some milk here.’

  I handed her the bottle and she stuck it in Georgie’s mouth and the silence was instant. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and Sandy laughed. ‘Noisy little bugger, isn’t she?’

  ‘She certainly is.’

  I made tea and we sat for a while, Sandy feeding Georgie and Kate, having returned, sitting on my knee, and I realized I hadn’t felt this relaxed for a long time. Maybe it was because, for the first time, I had someone to help me out. Or maybe it was because I felt as though I’d passed the first, most difficult test. If Sandy believed Georgie was mine, why should anyone else suspect she wasn’t?

  And as the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months, I slowly started to relax and think that maybe, just maybe, I had got away with it. That I was going to be able to keep my little family together after all.

  I still read the newspaper voraciously, looking for any changes in the story, any indication that the police had a new suspect, someone else to investigate. It was almost like a comfort blanket, something to reassure me when I started to doubt myself.

  And then, almost as quickly as it had started, the story stopped appearing in the paper.

  Everyone had forgotten about it. At least, nearly everyone.

  The girls started to get bigger. Georgie looked nothing like me, but everyone just nodded and smiled when I said she looked like her dad. I started to meet people, although I kept them at arm’s length so I never felt I had to tell them anything. It would have been too risky. And I took on some work: bits and bobs of ironing, sewing, mending. It wasn’t much to start with but it soon grew until I seemed to spend most of my days either with the hiss of an iron or the hum of a sewing machine.