by Lulu Taylor
‘Goodbye.’ He melts back into the shadows and is gone.
In the kitchen, Dan has his head in his hands as he watches the children, tears streaming down his face. He looks up as she starts to gather up things for the journey: bags of rice cakes, cartons of juice, beakers, raisins, and all the rest. Another bag. How will I manage it all on my own?
‘Please don’t go, Olivia. I told you, Cheska is leaving.’
‘Cheska’s whereabouts don’t concern me any longer. I don’t give a shit where she is.’
‘What about me?’ he asks. ‘Don’t you care how I feel?’
‘How you feel?’ she shouts, enraged. ‘No, at this moment, I don’t care a bit. I only care that you’ve destroyed our life together. You’ve poisoned our family with your lies. Did you really think you could go through life concealing this from me? Or maybe I’ve misjudged you. Maybe you can go through your whole life refusing to see what you don’t want to see! But I can’t. I can’t understand why you’ve done this, or how you thought we could have a marriage with this secret in it. It’s over, Dan. I can’t bear to look at you.’
She hoists the bag over her shoulder, lifts up the children and carries them all to the car. Dan comes to watch as she buckles them in, then climbs into the driver’s seat and fires up the engine.
As she reverses away, she doesn’t look at the figure of her husband on the driveway. And as she turns the car down the lane and heads off, she doesn’t look at the magnificent frontage of Renniston Hall. She can only think of the passports in her handbag, hers and the children’s, and the warm sunshine and peace of the villa in Argentina.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Francesca lies on the bed in the guest room, utterly drained. She feels as though she has lived a life today; or relived the most crucial moments in her past, the ones that set her on the path to where she is now.
Now she understands so much more. But she is also flabbergasted by things that she never questioned till now.
What impulse of mischief made her offer her eggs like that? Why did she inveigle Dan to accept her offer in the way she did? It was surely obvious that it could only end badly.
But she knows that the urge came from long before, because of what had happened between her and Dan, and the lost baby that kept a ghostly existence between them over the years.
So is it Dan’s fault?
She is eaten up with grief for them all, and the stupid things that have happened. She loved him all those years ago but it was the passion of a teenager. Why didn’t she grow out of it? She’s never been satisfied with what she’s got in her real life; she’s always hankered after a fantasy that didn’t exist. She let her desire for him scupper her chances of a brilliant degree. Her despair at the end of their affair and the loss of the baby ruined her dream of a great career. She accepted a life that could never fulfil her in the same way, and clung on stubbornly to a pointless fantasy. She persuaded herself that Dan was somehow worth it. But now she sees him for what he really is, and understands her own terrible mistakes. Here is the result.
The noises in the cottage tell her that Olivia has taken the children and the sound of car tyres on gravel signals her departure with them. A while later, there is a knock on her door. It opens and Dan is there, tearful. His malevolence has drained away.
‘Cheska?’
She lifts her head to look at him. He’s bowed and broken. Where is the romantic hero in the dinner jacket who seduced her under an oak tree one night? He never was a hero, or a god, or the man of her dreams. He was just an ordinary guy, a little better looking than most, but just a man all the same. Maybe not even as decent as the majority of men. ‘Yes?’
‘They’ve gone. She’s taken the children.’
‘I know.’
He leans against the door jamb. ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again.’
‘You will. You’re their father. Give her time. She’s angry. Write to her and explain. Tell her how sorry you are and what a ghastly mistake you made.’
He looks at her hopefully. ‘Would you write to her as well, Cheska? You could tell her that you wanted to do it. You could tell her that I regretted it from the start and it was all your idea.’
She gazes at him, not sure whether to laugh or scream. ‘I don’t think more lies are the way ahead.’
‘She’ll never trust me again,’ he says, bleak once more.
‘You can hardly blame her for that. And that’s exactly why you have to start telling the truth. Why don’t you stop that stupid play and start writing something that might achieve something? You could tell her the whole story. Everything. Honestly.’
He stands there, thoughtful. They look at each other, old friends once young and confident, now middle-aged and full of regret for their mistakes. She knows that she’s lived with a dream all these years, and that the buried grief in her heart has infected her life. That’s all gone now, blown away like ashes on the wind.
It’s time to move on. At last.
She has a sudden yearning for her old life: for the comfort of home and the presence of her children. She gets up off the bed. ‘I’m going now, Dan. I can’t stay any longer.’
‘You’re going to leave me alone?’ he says plaintively.
‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ She has a new energy. There’s nothing more she can do here. She needs to get back to the people who love and rely on her. I have to go home. She scoops up her phone and sees a text message there from Walt.
I’ve arrived in London. Leaving for Renniston soon. I’m coming to take you back.
We miss you. Wx
Her heart swells with unexpected happiness. She remembers the last time that Walt swooped into her life and made her whole again. When she saw only darkness ahead of her, he brought life and hope and love back into her world. That mattered then, and it matters now. Why did she chase the illusion of Dan, when she had the solid, reliable, loving reality of Walt all along? Why did she scorn him when he is worth a hundred devious Dans? She taps out a message.
Don’t come here. I’ll come to you. I’m on my way. See you at the flat. Fx
She looks up at Dan. ‘I need a taxi. I’m going back to London.’
‘I could drive you,’ he offers.
‘No thanks.’ She picks up her bag and starts to pack it. ‘You can stay here as long as you like. But Dan . . .’ She stops and fixes him with a stare. ‘If you want Olivia back, you’ll have to work for it.’
‘Do you think I have a chance?’ he asks mournfully, and she can hear the self-pity in his voice.
‘I don’t know,’ she says frankly. ‘But you have to try. That’s all we can do. Keep on trying.’
Francesca sleeps for some of the taxi ride, exhausted by the events of the day. The rest of the time, she gazes out of the window at the motorway as they drive into the gathering night. She wonders where Olivia is and how she is feeling. The devastation she witnessed on her face is something Francesca will never forget and she feels wretched for her part in it.
I have to make amends somehow. I don’t know how yet. But she has to know how sorry I am.
She thinks of Dan and whether Olivia will ever forgive him. But she knows that the greatest struggle will be with herself. She, Francesca, can hardly believe she spent so long obsessed with something that never existed and never could. What will Olivia be thinking about her own failure to see through Dan’s lies? She will blame herself. She will want to punish herself for being so stupid.
But she’s got the children. She’ll stay strong for them.
Francesca thinks about the beautiful babies. She feels the same core-deep love for them, and the need to be with them, but her lust for ownership has faded. Perhaps it was because they were partly a means to bring her to Dan, and that’s over now. Or perhaps it was because today she knew the truth: they are Olivia’s children and nothing can change that.
Will I ever see them again?
She can’t bear the thought that she might not. But that isn’t a question
for now. It must wait. Now, she has to get back to her old life and make sure that everything in life she really values is still there. And to her surprise, she longs most of all for her husband.
When she gets to the flat, Walt greets her with a huge hug.
‘Frankie, you’re back.’ He stands back and smiles at her. ‘I thought that house had cast some sort of spell on you. I was beginning to regret ever buying it, if it meant I was going to lose my wife!’
She hugs him again, drawing strength from his solidness. She can rely on him. He’s not a dream; he is real and he loves her. ‘You haven’t lost me, I promise.’
‘Is all this madness over?’ he asks. ‘You’re ready to come home?’
‘It’s over,’ she says with a sigh. ‘I’m ready to come home.’
‘Good. Then let’s go out for dinner and you can tell me all about it.’
He takes her to their local brasserie, where the staff know them well and bring Walt’s favourite wine over immediately. Francesca begins to feel her tiredness lift. It’s a relief to be out of the emotional turmoil that’s been her life for the last month.
Walt looks at her over the bread basket and lifts an eyebrow. ‘Now, Frankie. I get the feeling that something’s been going on. Is there anything you want to tell me?’
She hesitates. Once, she would have said airily, ‘No, nothing. Everything is fine,’ and she would have kept all her anger and sadness and secrets to herself. Her legendary self-control. But now she sees how pernicious it’s been, leading her into a fantasy world, making her do foolish things, and feel false emotions.
And look at what the lies and silence have done to Dan. His world is shattered. The pieces may never be put back together.
‘Well?’ Walt asks. ‘You’re awfully quiet.’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I’ve got a lot to tell you. But it all starts a very long time ago. Twenty years ago, in fact.’
‘Sounds like a long story,’ he says and smiles at her. ‘But we’ve got all the time you need.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
1960
In the lushness of spring, Julia sometimes wonders if the events of that winter’s night were all a dream. There is certainly a dreamlike quality to the way Alice simply vanished. The night the baby was born was the last time she saw her. They went back to the school, Donnie carrying Alice in his arms to the door, and when they made it back to the dorm, they crept into their beds, Julia wondering if they could ever really conceal the fact that Alice had given birth, then she slept soundly for the remaining few hours of the night. When she woke, Alice’s bed was empty and Miss Allen said she had been taken ill and was in the san. It had snowed too hard for any cars to get through to them immediately but a few days later, she heard that Alice’s mother and stepfather had come and taken her away.
She has not told anyone of the events of the night, but she is haunted by the memory of the birth and the dead baby. She becomes introverted and quiet, concentrating on her work and staying away from the other girls in case they ever ask her what she knows about Alice. All she wants is to get to the end of the year, and back to her parents in Cairo, where she intends to beg to be taken away from Renniston forever.
Before then, though, there are the holidays to get through, and when everyone else leaves the school, she is sent to stay in a cottage on the grounds with a retired schoolmistress who looks after girls not sent home. Julia is the only one this holiday, and she finds, to her surprise, that she treasures the peace and respite of the cottage. Miss Pelham is almost deaf and requires very little of her. There are regular mealtimes and bed is strictly at eight thirty, but the rest of the time is her own.
She spends long hours wandering through the woods at the side of the school, or lying next to hedgerows reading and thinking, but she stays well away from the east side of the school. The builders are still there. The pool is finished now and the gym in its last stages of construction. They will soon be gone, and then she can finally forget what happened.
But there is a reason why she wants them to stay.
She is lying on the soft green grass and staring up at the sky, watching clouds move slowly overhead, their titanic billows shifting and changing as the wind urges them on. Birds dart across her vision, riding the air currents, swooping and diving. Are they swallows or swifts? Or neither?
‘Hello.’ The soft lilting voice comes gently into her consciousness, and a body lies down nearby.
She turns to him, her sight adjusting from the bright expanse above to the face close to hers. ‘Hello, Donnie.’ She smiles. ‘You came.’
She wondered if he would get away today. So far he’s managed most days, now that the work is winding down and a lot of the men have already returned to Ireland. But he’s been able to wangle another week or two, clearing up.
He takes her face in his hands, gazing at her gently. ‘I didn’t want to miss you. You’re all I live for. You know that.’
She closes her eyes as his lips meet hers. It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world: his soft, tender kiss, her mouth opening to his, the hot feelings that start in her depths and then engulf her whole body. From the first moment he kissed her, she knew she was lost. It isn’t like Alice and Roy, though. It isn’t dirty and wrong. It’s beautiful and feels like the most natural, the most right thing in the world.
He stumbled on her by mistake right at the start of the holidays, when she was lying on her stomach in her favourite place, lost in a book, and he was out looking for rabbits. At first it was awkward and uncomfortable. When they looked into each other’s eyes, they saw the memory of that night, the dead child and the box Donnie made for him. But it also brought them together. They could only speak about it with each other.
‘So what happened to your girl?’ Donnie asked. ‘Is she all right? I haven’t seen her since.’
‘Nor have I. They took her away.’ Julia bit her lip. ‘I don’t know how to reach her and no one will tell me anything.’
‘Poor wee lass. I hope she gets better.’
Without ever agreeing it, they began to meet at the same time every day, talking idly about anything that crossed their minds. It took a while before she dared to ask about the baby and what had happened to him.
‘He’s safe enough,’ Donnie said. ‘I made sure of that. I didn’t want him dug up by foxes or anything, so I put him somewhere very safe where he’ll never be disturbed. Better if you don’t know where.’
Julia’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Donnie. It was so sad. So terrible.’ She choked on a sob.
‘Hey! There, there, it is sad. Children are easily lost. But don’t cry, Julia.’ He put his hand out to her face.
She gazed up at him. He had never called her Julia before. When their eyes met, clear and half afraid, she knew that he was going to kiss her and she started to shake. He was trembling too, but he moved towards her until, with small advances and retreats, his lips touched hers for that first, amazing time.
‘Donnie,’ she sighs as they lie together in the warm grass now, insects buzzing above them. ‘Oh, Donnie.’ His hands caress her, moving under her clothes, his kisses driving her wild for him. Every day, they get a little more adventurous, a little braver in the sating of their mutual need.
If Miss Pelham knew what her charge got up to in the warm meadow with the thin Irish boy, she would have twenty screaming blue fits. But no one knows. It is their secret, this trembling exploration and lush enjoyment of one another.
‘Julia,’ he whispers in her ear, as her fingers touch him lightly, making him draw in a sharp breath. ‘Oh, Julia.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Olivia knows that nothing will ever make her love her children any less.
The first months away from Dan were a challenge as she came to terms with the knowledge that Bea and Stan were not the result of an anonymous donor, but of the worst confidence trick she can imagine. Her husband fooled her. He allowed her to be implanted with Cheska’s fertilised eggs. He let her raise Cheska
’s children and never told her. She knew that was a fact, but her heart could not accept it.
At first she was scared. In the early hours of her departure, as they headed for the airport, she was deeply afraid of only one thing: that she would stop loving the children. She was terrified that they’d been somehow infected with the disgusting poison of Dan’s lies, and she would never be able to look at them in the same way again. She feared that she would only ever see Cheska in them and that would be too much to overcome.
They reached Heathrow, but there was no room on a flight for twenty-four hours so she booked them into an airport hotel and sent the car keys back to Dan in an envelope with nothing else enclosed but the parking ticket and a note of where the car was to be found. He would guess from that where she had gone, if he hadn’t already.
The hours in the hotel were spent in their room, Olivia dazed and distracted, playing over and over the events of the last few days, making connections, working things out. She was alternately grief-stricken and furious, stabbed by the betrayal, humiliated, and then energised and released by her intense, almost elemental fury.
But the thing that she most feared never happened. Never for a moment did she see Cheska in the children, even when she stared at them, searching for something that might make her feel that these were no longer her babies.
She sent a silent message to Dan and Cheska: You can’t take them away from me. They’ll always be mine.
When at last they were able to board the flight and she strapped them into their seats, preparing for the long journey across the Atlantic, she felt more than ever what she had first sensed when the babies were born: they didn’t belong to anyone. They were themselves. Dan’s attempts to control the creation of his children had failed because they couldn’t be defined as only their genetic inheritance.
They are who they are.
They all slept on the flight, as they left their old life behind. When the twins woke and asked for Daddy, she told them he was at home. She couldn’t bring herself to say they would see him soon, but she knew that if they asked, she would lie, to keep them happy.