Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  He looked at her, his expression blank.

  ‘How about a holiday at half-term?’

  ‘Could do.’

  ‘I thought you’d be a bit more enthusiastic. Are you too old to spend time with your poor old mum?’

  ‘Course not, it’s just . . . ’

  His voice trailed. There was anxiety in his eyes. She kept glancing at him as she drove, urging him to speak.

  ‘Darren’s asked me to stay,’ he said.

  She held her breath. ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’d like to get to know him.’

  ‘If that’s what you want.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  Leanne’s heart hammered and her blood pounded through her veins. She would be alone and wanted nothing more than to tie him to her side and force him to find happiness with her and her alone. Yet Janet’s plea rang inside her head. She gathered her strength and forced the right words forward. ‘You should do it if it’s what you want.’

  She turned along the road leading to her home, passing a few parked cars, a teenage girl with a dog, and an electricity van, and fought the loneliness in her mind. She had few friends to turn to and imagined long evenings and weekends alone. She would soon grow bored of reading and doing jigsaw puzzles, her usual hobbies, and would count the hours until she could return to work.

  ‘I won’t go if you don’t want me to,’ Tyler said.

  She reversed the car into the drive, turned off the engine and turned to face her son. ‘I’ll miss you, but I know it’s important to you.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course, I’m sure, but I’ll want daily reports, and don’t forget, if you're unhappy, even in the slightest, you ring and I’ll be straight there. Deal?’

  ‘Deal. Thanks, Mum.’

  She watched him leave. The years had passed quickly, and it seemed only yesterday that she fulfilled his every whim as he toddled around the garden demanding her attention. He had needed her help with the most basic of tasks, as well as for guidance and discipline. Now he was grown up and needed for nothing.

  Desolate and forlorn, Leanne trudged to the house, her body sinking and her mind tiring. Her decision to appear chirpy now seemed like a monumental task, and she could neither force a smile to her face nor banish the dark clouds that gathered inside her head.

  ‘Want a tea or coffee?’ she asked Tyler, as she stepped into the kitchen.

  ‘No thanks.’

  She filled the kettle with what seemed like a meagre amount of water and slumped onto a chair, waiting for it to boil. Laughter and banter filled her ears as she glanced across the table to where Phillip and Janet’s figures once resided. Phillip would make witty remarks, often commenting on someone’s misfortune, and Janet would cackle. She thought him mischievous; she loved him as the son she never had.

  The kettle switched itself off and then there was silence. Loneliness pressed into her, compounding her anguish and torment. She shuddered. She wanted a companion.

  Was there any chance her mother could be alive? It seemed as though Janet had forced her to stay away, but why would she do such a thing? And why would she lie? Janet had deceived her in the most atrocious way, waiting until her last breath to detach herself from her guilt. She should have told her sooner and explained what had happened. What had she been thinking and would she ever learn the truth behind her silence?

  As the days past, Leanne’s desire to search for her mother ebbed and flowed. She knew nothing about her except her name and did not have a clue where to start looking. And why should she? Her mother had never attempted to make contact with her, and so intentionally or otherwise, she had made her feelings clear. A relationship was never going to grow and develop.

  Yet she could not help but wonder what had caused her mother and grandmother to fall out in such an unambiguous way, and she searched her mind for possibilities so appalling that she could not deny the outcome. It was a pointless task; she knew almost nothing about Janet’s younger days and nothing about her relationship with her daughter.

  During Leanne’s youth, she had asked Janet about her mother, only to learn she had died in an accident when Leanne was five. It was evident now, as the memories started to form clear images in her mind that Janet had been guarded whenever the subject arose, ultimately causing her to push her concerns aside. She should have pursued it further. She should have realised Janet had been lying and should not have trusted her so implicitly.

  Frustrated, she stomped upstairs to Janet’s room and sifted through her belongings for evidence. More than anything, she wanted to prove Janet’s confusion, and find a death certificate, a newspaper article, or anything to show that her mother had in fact died. The alternative, the lie, was too difficult to contemplate.

  She opened drawers and found clothes, books, jewellery and perfumes. Realising that she should be bagging it, she returned downstairs, grabbed a couple of large bin liners from a kitchen drawer and returned to the room. With a heavy heart, she disposed of the underwear and then sifted through her selection of blouses; some were ragged and worn, others were almost new. She separated them into two bags, one for the tip and the other for the charity shop, and then continued to look through the skirts.

  The bags filled within minutes. She stared at them, her grief mounting and aware that soon there would be nothing left of Janet’s life. She would fade into insignificance; her friends would forget her, her achievements forgotten. People would carry on as though she never mattered, as though her life was unimportant.

  Leanne’s enthusiasm to continue her task was draining. She opened another wardrobe door, searching for more clothes to sort through, and fingered the piles of jumpers at the base. Then she hit something firm. It was a small wooden box.

  Having retrieved it, Leanne sat on the edge of the bed with it on her lap and prised it open. Upon first glance were an assortment of documents and loose sheets of paper. The first piece out was one of her school reports. She placed it to one side and reached for a folded sheet of paper. It was a love letter to Roy, her grandmother’s husband, and it was dated 1949.

  Leanne read it and experienced a surge of tenderness. Roy had died of heart failure almost ten years previous. She had loved him as a father and had many fond memories - the most prevalent were their conversations of the paranormal from psychic experiences to vampires and lake monsters. The subject fascinated her and it had been easy to trigger her curiosity. However, Janet wasn’t appreciative of the discussion, and ruthlessly ended every conversation with a harsh comment or a stony glare, reprimanding them both with regularity. Undeterred, they had held secret discussions, often passing knowing glances and chuckling under their breath.

  Roy had been an easy-going man and candid about his likes and dislikes, his mistakes and his achievements. Janet, on the other hand, said little, and always seemed shielded. Yet they shared one decision; they had both disowned Karen, their daughter. Why did they never speak of her? The life before her so-called death was a subject off limits.

  Leanne continued to sift through the papers, but there was little to indicate that Karen had ever existed, and most of the items in the box were her own, drawings and suchlike from her childhood. Then, at the bottom, she spotted an envelope, and with expectations rising, she removed a photograph.

  Her heart leapt. Before her was a detached country house, and in front of it were a couple and three children. She flicked it over. It was dated 1942. It said nothing else. Who were they? Was one of the girls her grandmother?

  Memories crept towards Leanne from the depth of her mind. It was a farm, they all worked the land, and once upon a time, she had lived there too. She could visualise herself running through the fields with the sunshine upon her skin and the light wind caressing her face. They were happy times.

  Tyler appeared in the doorway.

  She lifted her head. ‘Hello love.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Just a photo.’ She handed it across.

  ‘Who
are these people?’

  ‘I think they must be gran’s family.’

  ‘Which one’s Gran?’

  ‘Maybe the one of the left, I’m not sure.’

  He studied the photo.

  ‘I think it was a farmhouse,’ she continued. ‘I think I lived there too when I was young.’

  ‘Why did you all move to the city?’

  She placed the photo back into the envelope and puffed out. ‘There’s such a lot I don’t know about my grandparents. I wish I’d asked more questions.’

  ‘I once asked her about her childhood . . . years ago. She was sharp with me.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Did it upset you?’

  ‘A bit,’ he replied.

  ‘She didn’t like to talk about it. I think it had something to do with her upbringing. People were much more private back in those days . . . although having said that they were things troubling her.’ She knotted her hands wondering what to say. ‘Before she died she told me my mother was still alive.’

  ‘Alive?’

  ‘That’s what she said . . . she was confused and it didn’t make much sense.’

  ‘How could she keep something like that from you?’

  She hesitated. ‘It might not be true.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She paused thoughtfully. ‘She’s had her chance to contact me but never made the effort. It might not be worth the effort of tracking her down.’

  Tyler stood with his legs apart and his hands in his pockets. He seemed to be scrutinising her, or maybe just pondering something.

  ‘What is it you wanted? I doubt you came in here for a chat,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve just spoken with Darren and confirmed I’ll be staying there. He’s going to pick me up on Saturday morning.’

  ‘Okay.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not sure if I should go.’

  ‘Have you changed your mind?’

  ‘No. It’s just that . . . well . . . will you be okay?’

  She placed her hands on his upper arms. ‘What did I do to deserve such a wonderful son?’

  ‘Stop it, Mum, you’re embarrassing me.’

  Cringing, he turned and left, heading back to his room.

  Briefly, he turned his head. ‘You should look for your mum. It could be just what you need.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘There could be all kinds of reasons why she hasn’t contacted you . . . maybe she’s been out of the country.’

  He stepped into his room.

  Was that what Darren had been telling him? Was he filling him with lies? She rushed along the landing, her anxieties ready to burst through her skin, but as she reached the doorway, she heard Janet’s voice. ‘Promise me you’ll let him go,’ she had said. Leanne shuffled back to her grandmother’s room and dropped onto the bed. Tyler was ready to start a new chapter in his life. Was she willing to do the same?

  As the start of half term neared, her pounding heart seemed to get louder, dreading the moment when Tyler walked out of the house and into someone else’s life. It was selfish to want him all to herself and wrong to hold him back, but that was what she wanted to do. The promise to Janet, along with her fluctuating resolve to provide him with better opportunities than what she had maintained her silence.

  Thoughts of loneliness scurried through her days and she wondered how she would cope with an empty house. With no one else to care for, she would find herself alone with her ponderings, dwelling on the loss of her grandmother and husband, along with the lies told. She would cry bitter tears and scrutinise the past, searching for more evidence of betrayal. She would wonder what could have been. It would be unhealthy. It could be unstoppable.

  Janet should have told her about Karen years ago. What else had been withheld? What other untruths had she told? She didn’t want to be angry with her grandmother, but her world was falling apart and it was growing ever more difficult to maintain calmness and clarity. With no other family members to talk it through with, she feared the truth would remain hidden and her unrest would remain.

  Saturday morning arrived, and she awoke after having had a restless night’s sleep, burdened with grief and with visions of solitude. She tried to appear happy, forcing a smile to her face and a chirpy tone to her voice, and disguised her sadness. Tyler became her focus.

  Together, they went through the contents of this bag and checked he had enough clothes, money, and items to keep him amused during his stay. She sensed he was nervous, but he never spoke of his fears, only the days out they had planned. They were to visit various cities, the coast, and amusement parks, where he could get to know his new family in a more relaxed atmosphere. It sounded like he would enjoy himself, providing he could get on with everyone. He was young and had the innocence of youth on his side, and was without the qualms she would carry if she were in his position.

  With her anxieties trapped beneath her skin, she said her goodbyes to Tyler, and clutching her heart, watched him vacate the house and greet Darren with a restrained enthusiasm. Tears dripped from her eyes, soaking her smooth rounded cheeks, and her chest heaved. Drawn to an image of Phillip on the wall, her sobbing evolved. The four of them had been happy. Now she was alone, and her world had shattered.

  On Monday morning, having spent an entire weekend moping, a newfound strength motived Leanne and she was eager to get to work and occupy the dark void in her brain with something useful. However, when she arrived at the craft factory and shop and saw the sorrowful expression of her employer and friend, David Williams, she knew something was wrong and her heart sank.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I know this is bad timing, but I’m going to have to let you go. As you know business has been struggling, but over the weekend, I lost two more of our major customers. I just can’t afford to keep you on.’

  His apologies were still rattling around her head hours later when she entered the solicitor’s office for the reading of Janet’s will. She cared little for the assets she was to acquire, and whilst she waited in the cluttered reception area, scanning the papers and binders on the desk and papers and magazines on a low table, she considered her future.

  Jobs were scarce, but rather than the income concerning her, it was the extra time. She had no one to spend her evenings with, let alone her days, and could not cope with more time upon her hands. The outlook was bleak.

  Almost in a daze, she listened to the solicitor as he talked through her assets. No one else was listed, and as expected, there was no mention of her mother. Even so, her disappointment swelled.

  ‘You have inherited a house,’ Mr Hill said, flicking through the sheets.

  ‘A house? She sold it a couple of years ago.’

  ‘In Norfolk.’

  ‘She doesn’t have a house in Norfolk.’

  He peered over the rim of his glasses. ‘She inherited it from a Mr and Mrs Coombs.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘She said she wanted nothing to do with it, nor their money. As far as I’m aware, it’s been empty for decades.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you anything more. Here are the key and the address.’

  Bewildered, she stared at the items on the untidy desk.

  ‘The money she left you amounts to a little over two hundred thousand pounds, and that’s with the fees removed.’

  Her jaw dropped and her minded drifted as Mr Hill continued to talk about the contents of the will. Minutes later, having signed the relevant documents, she left the office and stepped into the cool autumnal air. With her hands resting in her pockets, she hurried to her car a couple of blocks away, and once inside, away from the bustling pedestrians, she stared at the address on the sheet of paper.

  Could it be that the house was the one that she had seen in the photograph? It seemed a possibility. But why, if Janet had lived there had she chosen to abandon it? It made no sense especially so since Leanne could recall running carefree through the fi
elds. Then there were Mr and Mrs Coombs to consider. Somewhere, coming from the depths of her brain, she felt sure that Janet’s maiden name was not Coombs.

  She ambled home, her mind racing with questions, and decided, as she had nothing else to do, she should pay her new property a visit. In the least, it would provide her with a focus, and maybe, if she were lucky, she may find someone who knew her mother. It was better than wallowing in her losses.

  Chapter 3

  Upon Leanne’s arrival in the village, she spotted a cafe on the roadside. In need of sustenance, she slipped the car into second gear and turned into a car park. Although the driving had been tiring, she felt far less emotional than earlier, and concluded that whilst she was away from home, away from the constant reminders of what had been, she could deal with her grief easier. Even so, it had taken a huge amount of effort to leave the house and drive away.

  Her mind drifted to her grandfather, Roy. He had been a positive man and had often told her that if you looked hard enough, no matter what devastation you faced there would always be something good in disguise. She loved his attitude, always preferring to seek out the pleasant and the enjoyable rather than the irritations and disagreements. Yet, as she strolled towards the café entrance, she could not help but wonder if her plummeting bad luck was set to continue.

  The café had little natural light passing through the windows and inside it was dark and cool. There were stone slabs on the floor, a light coloured paint covered the brick walls, and the tables were of heavy wood that had notched edges and scratched surfaces. A group of men wearing leathers occupied one of the tables, and there was an elderly woman at the counter chatting to the assistant.

  Leanne ordered a coffee and a small cake and headed to a table in the middle of the room. The elderly woman continued to prattle, much to the assistant’s dismay. The assistant looked as though she was trying to escape, edging closer to a back door and opening and shutting her mouth in rapid succession. Moments later, she did, in fact, manage to make a swift exit, and silence descended. Careful not to make eye contact, since she wasn’t in the mood for conversation, she gazed into her mug and pondered her future.