Kate nods, slowly, as though processing the ideas. ‘So where does this leave us? What do we do now?’
Georgie shakes her head. Kate’s usually the practical one, the one who has all the answers, and the fact that she’s so lost, so unsure of herself right now, makes Georgie feel worse.
‘Well, Sam’s going to talk to his gran, see if he can convince her not to go to the police. So we need to do the same with Aunty Sandy.’
‘And we need to speak to Mum, don’t we?’
Georgie nods. ‘We do. But I’m worried that—’
‘We’re too late?’
Georgie nods, suddenly very aware that she’s left her sister alone to cope with this for far too long. ‘Yes. I’m so sorry, Kate. I’m sorry for leaving you to deal with all this. I – I’ve just had so much to deal with too. How – how is Mum? I haven’t even asked what the doctor said the other day.’ She doesn’t add ‘when I left you alone’, but the words are there, hanging in the air between them.
Kate hesitates for a moment as though trying to slot together the words she needs in the right order.
‘She’s not well, Georgie. We were right, she has got early-onset Alzheimer’s.’ Three little words that change everything for everyone involved.
‘So what does it mean?’
Kate twirls her rings round on her finger, the diamond catching the light on every spin. ‘It means we’ll have to look after her, and when we can’t look after her any more, she’ll have to go into a home.’ She takes a deep breath which catches in her throat. ‘It means that the confusion she’s been suffering from, the anger, the living in the past – it’s only going to get worse.’
‘It means she’s not going to be able to tell us much, doesn’t it?’
Kate nods. ‘Exactly. Which is precisely why we can’t let this get out. We can’t put her through any trauma, she’ll never cope. But more than that, it would be completely pointless, because it’s too late for her to pay for it now. It’s too late.’
‘Oh Kate.’ Georgie wraps her arms tightly round her sister, feeling the warm softness of her skin next to hers. And slowly, she can feel Kate start to relax, the tension slipping from her body, as she responds to her sister’s hug. They stay like that for a short while, locked in the moment, until Georgie pulls away.
‘You know what else this means, though, don’t you?’
Kate shakes her head.
‘It means we’re still sisters. We always will be, whatever happens. Nobody will ever take that away from us.’
‘I never doubted it.’ Kate looks at Georgie. ‘I want to meet him, George.’
The words are so quiet Georgie’s not sure she’s heard them right, and she leans closer. ‘What did you say?’
‘I want to meet him. I want to meet Sam. Do you think he’ll want to meet me?’
‘Of course he will, Kate. And he’ll love you.’ The truth is, Georgie has no idea whether Sam is in the right frame of mind to meet Kate yet. But she’s certain she can convince him, ask him to come, and she’s thrilled Kate wants to meet him.
‘I just think it would be good to get to know him. See what a male version of you is like, for a start.’ Kate smiles weakly.
Georgie nods. ‘I’ll speak to him. I promise.’
‘Thank you. And I’ll speak to Aunty Sandy, OK? Try and change her mind.’
‘Thank you, Kate.’
‘Don’t thank me. We’re in this together. Always have been, always will be. Nobody can ever change that. Right?’
‘Right.’ Georgie turns her head to look at the blurry image of the street outside through the voile blind to hide the tears that have escaped down her cheeks. She knows she’s never going to risk losing her family again.
16
January 2017
There’s a room full of people who don’t know each other; some Georgie hardly even knows herself yet. And yet they are all her family. And they are all together, here, now.
She sits on one end of her sofa and looks round the room. The silence is almost oppressive yet she doesn’t know how to break it. She can feel her shoulders hunching and her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap. She’s desperate for this to work, for everyone to get on, to make today count so they can all move on. And sometimes, high expectations can lead to bitter disappointment. She of all people knows that.
She looks over at Kate. She’s sitting on the sofa opposite, the one that was once cream but now is so discoloured it’s covered by a large dark-red throw. She’s sitting right back in her seat, her knee-length skirt hitched up on her thighs, exposing creamy flesh. Every now and then she tugs at the bottom of her skirt but it makes no difference. Her knees are together, her hands on her thighs. She looks drawn, her expression blank, and she isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes, not even Georgie’s; instead her gaze is trained studiously on the edge of the rug where it curls up slightly. Next to her Joe’s perched on the arm of the sofa. His hand is pressed on top of hers and every now and then he looks down at her lovingly, but she doesn’t notice. She’s too afraid to look up.
Georgie flicks her eyes across the room to where Sam is sitting, stiffly, on a straight-backed chair that’s been hurriedly dragged over from the dining table. Georgie’s trying not to stare but it’s hard. She just wants to study his face, to make its contours and lines as familiar to her as if she’s known them her entire life.
He’s her brother. No, her twin. She can’t believe she has a twin. It makes her shiver every time she thinks about it.
She’s worried Kate will think that it means she’s less important to her than Sam, as she’s not her twin; they’re not really related at all, not by blood. But she hopes that Kate understands that love is about more than blood, and that nothing can ever take away what they have between them. She vows to spend the rest of her life making sure she does, anyway.
She’s so pleased they’re both here, but so scared about how they’re going to get on. Or not.
Sam’s fiddling with the spikes in his hair, absent-mindedly pushing them back into place. His left foot is hitched up onto his right knee and he’s leaning forward, resting his chin on his hand thoughtfully. He looks up and catches Georgie’s eye and when he sees her looking he smiles tightly. Then his eyes slide over to his mother, Kimberley, who’s sitting next to him on another hard wooden chair.
Kimberley’s grey hair is loose today, softening the hard lines of her face. She looks thinner than she did before, her cheekbones sharp in the cold winter light that pours through the window. She’s smiling gently as though she’s thinking of some happier time, but her eyes are empty, searching. Every now and then she rubs her head, or scratches her arm, a nervous action that she’s not even aware of. She doesn’t notice Sam glancing at her every now and then to make sure she’s OK. She doesn’t really seem to notice anything at all.
Matt and Clementine are sitting next to Georgie, Matt’s hand resting gently on Clem’s knee. Georgie watches her daughter as she looks crossly round the room, as though she’s expecting someone to say something ridiculous at any moment. She probably wishes she was anywhere but here, but Georgie’s glad she came. She’s glad she’s a part of this.
Everyone seems to be waiting for someone else to speak first. The room practically crackles under the strain of anticipation.
Georgie can’t stand it any more.
‘Tea?’ She leans forward and picks up the pot and looks round. There are some nods so she methodically pours tea into the cups arranged haphazardly on the coffee table in front of her. She slops milk into each one and passes them round. The ripples on the top of the cups give away how much her hands are shaking, and she’s relieved when everyone has taken one and she can hold her own cup with both hands, warming her freezing fingers. The steam rises up and swims in front of her face until she can almost believe she’s in the room by herself.
Sam leans forward and scoops a spoonful of sugar into his cup and the sound of the spoon tinkling against the cup as he stirs is almost deafening
in the quiet room. A car drives slowly past outside and disappears up the road, and then the room is totally silent again apart from the gentle sound of seven people breathing.
There are, of course, two people quite obviously missing from this little gathering. One is Jan.
They’d all agreed – well, Kate and Georgie had agreed – that Jan just wasn’t well enough to be here today: she’s sunk too deeply into her Alzheimer’s to help answer any questions, and her presence would only upset everyone, herself included. But there’s more to it than that. Having their mother here would have made it too difficult for Kimberley, who’s still fragile after everything that’s happened. Sam’s relieved too, as it means he doesn’t have to face her either. He’s still too angry, too shocked by it all.
The other missing person is Margaret, and she’s not here simply because she’s too angry. She doesn’t want to meet Georgie’s family; she’s made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t want anything to do with them. Sam admitted it had taken all his skills of persuasion to stop her from going to the police. She was adamant she wanted Jan to pay for what she’d done, for the pain she’d put them through. Georgie can’t blame her, she understands why. But she’s relieved that, now Kate has talked Sandy out of it too, the threat of the police has passed, for now, at least.
‘Mum’s been punished enough, don’t you think?’ Kate had said to Sandy. And, once Sandy had calmed down, she’d agreed. She’d almost lost her best friend. She didn’t want to lose her in disgrace.
And so there are seven people here. Seven people who don’t know what to say to one another, and so they say nothing at all.
Georgie knows she has to be the first to speak. After all, she’s the one who invited them all here. Yet the slightly scruffy living room of her home feels so unfamiliar right at this moment that she’s not sure how to behave.
She clears her throat. It’s dry and scratchy and she’s not sure whether anything will come out at all. ‘So.’ She coughs again, giving the words space. ‘Thank you for coming here today. I know it’s going to be hard but I’m very happy you’ve all agreed to meet each other.’ She glances at Matt, who nods his head and smiles encouragingly. Kate’s looking down at her hands. ‘I just – I hope we can all make it work, somehow.’
Sam must notice how uncomfortable Georgie is in the silence that follows, and steps up to help out. ‘I’m sure we can.’ He casts a glance at his mother. Her leg bounces up and down nervously. She turns to meet her son’s gaze and, for the first time since they met, Georgie sees the smile on her lips reach her eyes.
Someone coughs and a car alarm goes off somewhere in the street outside.
‘Oh, I think that might be mine.’ Sam jumps to his feet, glad to have something to do for a few minutes. He peers out of the window and clicks the fob on his key ring and the ringing sound stops instantly. The silence sounds louder for the interruption, somehow.
Sam stays standing and turns to look down at them all with interest. He’s used to his mother being slightly absent, the drugs taking away part of her personality and never quite returning it fully once they’ve done their job, so that a little bit of her slips away week by week, month by month, year by year. But the others he barely knows, and it’s hard for any of them to know where to start. How must it feel, Georgie wonders, having been an only child in a troubled family all his life, to now have a sister whom he doesn’t know at all, plus her sister, who wants to get to know him as well?
It must seem almost unbelievable. And yet it’s true.
He notices Georgie looking at him and smiles. Then, unexpectedly, he walks across to the seat next to Kate and sits awkwardly, smiling at her, and then at Joe. Georgie wonders for a moment what he’s going to say, but then he holds his hand out stiffly and says, ‘Hello, I’m Sam.’
She watches, breath held, as Kate hesitates for just a moment. Then she takes his hand in hers and shakes it firmly. Joe does the same.
‘Hello, Sam. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Kate, Georgie’s sister.’ Relief floods through Georgie’s body. This is a start. This is good.
Kate and Sam study each other for a moment, Kate searching Sam’s face for familiar features. It’s clear to Georgie that Sam has the same arch of the eyebrow, the same curl of the lip, the same flush of the cheek and flick of the hair as her, and yet she has no idea whether Kate can see it too. Sam seems to be studying Kate just as closely, as though trying to read her mind.
There’s so much for them both to take in.
It was never going to be easy, getting everyone together like this, and so far it’s been as tense as everyone expected. But Sam’s bold move, under the scrutiny of everyone else, has shifted the atmosphere; it’s as though a bath plug has been removed, allowing all the tension to seep slowly away and leaving just an overwhelming desire to get to know each other. Georgie wants to hug him but instead she just watches as her brother – she loves saying that – and sister talk to each other. Their gazes hardly leave each other, their faces are animated.
Georgie feels a pang as she watches them, as their initial awkwardness slips slowly into an ease she hadn’t expected. She’s got to know Sam pretty well over the last few weeks, and she and Kate have slowly come back together again, repairing the rift that was caused by Georgie wanting to find her real family. She’s so happy that Sam and Kate both seem to want to get to know each other, after everything they’ve found out.
Georgie stands and walks across to the chair next to Kimberley that Sam has just vacated and sits down, crossing her left leg over her right knee and turning to her. Kimberley hasn’t looked round and Georgie gently places her hand on her leg. Kimberley turns and her eyes meet her daughter’s. Georgie wishes she could see behind those dark eyes, inside her head, see what she’s thinking, how she’s feeling. She wishes she could mend all the hurt.
But no one can.
So all she can do, for now, is talk to her, get to know her and try to let her know how sorry she is for everything that’s happened.
And, as they chat, and Georgie is surrounded by the gentle hum of voices, voices that are trying to find a future, she feels an unexpected sense of warmth settle over her.
They all still have a very long way to go to mend all their broken bridges, but now she’s sure that, one day, they’ll get there.
Part Four
Kimberley
17
1979–present
I saw him the second I got on the bus, and sat directly opposite him. The dark-haired man in the denim jacket was the most gorgeous man I’d ever clapped eyes on and, even though it was totally out of character for me, I knew I had to talk to him. I leaned forward, letting my hair fall over my shoulder, which was bare except for a slim strap.
‘Hello, I’m Kim.’ I smiled and tried to look sexy. I didn’t think it had worked, though, because he gave me a funny look and then shook his head.
But then he spoke. ‘Hello, Kim. I’m Ray. Nice to meet you.’ He stuck out his hand and I shook it. It probably sounds corny, but it felt like lightning had struck when I touched his skin, and I pulled my hand away quickly. He didn’t seem to notice and I sat on my hand and tried to look normal again, even though I couldn’t really breathe properly. I blinked a couple of times. I was aiming for sexy lash-fluttering but I think I came across as more rabbit in the headlights, because the next thing he said was, ‘So, why are you here on this bus instead of at school?’
My cheeks felt hot. I was starting to lose my nerve. I couldn’t really chat someone up if he thought I was only a silly little schoolgirl, could I?
‘I don’t go to school. I’m sixteen.’ I was only fifteen, actually, but I didn’t want him to know that, so I stuck my chest out defiantly and hoped it made me look older, in spite of the high pitch of my voice.
He smiled a crooked smile. ‘Oh right. Sorry. So, what do you do then?’
I tucked my hair behind my ear. ‘Well, nothing, at the minute. I’m looking for a job, though.’ I tipped my head towards the b
us window as if the job was just outside. ‘Got an interview today, typing.’ I shrugged, trying to look like I didn’t care either way, but the truth was I really wanted this job. I was still living at home with my mum and although we got on OK she was pretty controlling. I’d left school earlier that summer with a couple of O levels, but nothing to write home about. This typing job would help me save up and get a place of my own. At least, that was the plan.
‘Wow. Good luck.’
‘Thanks.’
I looked out of the bus window at the red-brick buildings creeping slowly by. I wasn’t great at talking to strangers, it made me feel awkward. But there was something about this dark, handsome stranger that had made me want to strike up a conversation, so I had to think of something else to say, to keep him talking. Something funny, something irresistible, so he’d never be able to forget me.
‘Are you going to work, then?’
Brilliant, Kim, really original. I felt my face flame again.
‘Yeah. It’s just in the sweet factory, nothing special.’ He flicked his eyes over my face and I felt my skin shiver with delight. ‘I play in a band as well, though. You know, in pubs and that. You should come and see us play some time.’
‘I’d love to.’ It came out as a squeal and I coughed to get my voice back under control. ‘That would be really nice.’ I didn’t say, ‘if mum will let me.’ That would not have been cool.
Ray nodded, studying me closely. I met his eye defiantly. ‘OK, well, we’ll be at the Crown on Saturday, you know, the pub in town?’
The Mother's Secret Page 25