by Amy Miller
Ten
Heidi inspected the rusting galvanised buckets in the passenger seat, hoping Rosalind would approve. Heidi loved the character in anything old, used and slightly battered – and knew they’d make fabulous planters. Parked up outside where Rosalind lived, she looked up at her mother’s flat. With a view of Southbourne beach, it was on the third floor – the only one without net curtains – and had a glass-fronted balcony big enough for a sunlounger which she turned around during the day, depending on the position of the sun.
‘You’re like a sunflower,’ Heidi had said when she first got the flat. ‘Facing the sun at all times of the day.’
‘Dandelion seed more like,’ Rosalind had said, pointing at her silvery hair.
Rosalind had moved to the flat when Alan had died ten years ago and their three-bedroom semi-detached house became too big for her on her own. She hadn’t been sentimental about their family home. While Heidi had wandered through the rooms, asking Johnny to take photos to remember it, Rosalind had seemed relieved to be packing up and moving out. That was her approach to life in general: don’t dwell; don’t look back.
She had been remarkably stoic about Alan’s death too – of the stiff-upper-lip generation, she very rarely showed any vulnerability, although Heidi knew it was there, like a deep concealed well at the bottom of a garden. Rosalind had thrown her energy into making a new life without Alan, nurturing her balcony flowers and sometimes helping out Walter, who lived in the flat below hers, in the communal gardens. Now, as Heidi approached the flats, she saw Rosalind deadheading flowers while Walter weeded the beds.
‘Dressed for the job as usual,’ said Heidi, raising her eyebrows at Rosalind’s outfit: a long red skirt, purple jumper and floral jacket, with ballet pumps on her feet. Her hair, as always, was held up with tortoiseshell combs, and she wore her glasses around her neck on a chain. Her cheek was streaked with mud.
‘I’m not one for trousers and wellies,’ Rosalind said, pulling off her gardening gloves. ‘What have you got for me there?’
‘I bought you some buckets for your dahlias,’ she said. ‘Are they the right size?’
Rosalind took one and inspected it. ‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘Thank you. Is everything else okay? You don’t normally come bearing gifts.’
Heidi took a deep breath. Don’t say anything, she told herself. Just do not say anything. Not yet. But another voice told her that Rosalind at least knew about William’s existence, so she alone would understand the gravity of finding him after thirty-six years.
‘Heidi?’ Rosalind persisted. ‘What is it?’
Heidi’s mouth went dry and her heart raced. She glanced at the view: the sea was an inviting shade of matt silver, the sand a strip of gold and the sky above a mixture of blues, greys and pink, like the inside of a seashell. Against that beautiful backdrop, people walked their dogs, and from that vantage point they were small dots on the sand. There were couples walking arm in arm, people on their own and a mother with a young boy, perhaps her son, teaching him to fly a kite. An image of William burst into Heidi’s mind – how she imagined him as a child. Though Heidi had instructed herself to say nothing, she knew she couldn’t hold it in any longer.
‘I’ve got some news,’ she spat out. ‘Something’s happened.’
‘Something else?’ said Rosalind. ‘What else could possibly happen?’
‘You know on the day that Johnny died, he took a photo?’ said Heidi.
‘Yes,’ Rosalind said slowly. ‘You were talking about it the other day. You’re not still thinking about that, are you?’
‘In the photograph was a café called Blackbird,’ Heidi repeated, ignoring her mother.
‘I know, love,’ said Rosalind with an exasperated sigh. ‘You showed me.’
Heidi shook her head and opened her eyes wide.
‘And it turns out that… he… he…’ Heidi gulped, knowing that it was all going to come tumbling out, here, now. ‘It turns out that Johnny had found William. Our son. He works in that café. The Blackbird. On the day he died I think he was on his way to see him or had seen him. He found him. Can you believe it? Without breathing a word to me, he found our son.’
The words were rushing from her lips. And it was such a relief, sweet relief, to tell someone. Rosalind’s mouth fell open.
‘He never did!’ she whispered.
‘He kept it all a secret from me,’ said Heidi, nodding. ‘I think he decided to find him and find out what sort of person he was before telling me about it. Or something like that. That’s all I can think that he would be doing.’
‘Good God,’ said Rosalind, the colour draining from her cheeks. ‘I’m speechless… I’m so shocked, Heidi… I thought that was all in the past. What was he thinking of, dredging that up, looking for him without your agreement, for heaven’s sake? How could he do that?’
Rosalind’s demeanour had completely changed. Something about it reminded Heidi of all those years ago, when she’d told Rosalind she was pregnant. Her mother seemed to turn to stone in front of her eyes.
‘I think he wanted to leave me a gift,’ said Heidi shakily. ‘That’s what I believe. I think it was a gift.’
‘Well I think he was wrong to do that,’ Rosalind said. ‘Very wrong. Selfish. What a terrible thing to do. The arrogance of the man! What a dreadfully selfish thing to do.’
Heidi’s eyes filled. Rosalind stared at her shoes, shaking her head in disbelief. Heidi longed for Rosalind to put her arms around her, comfort her, but she quickly deduced that that wasn’t going to happen.
‘For heaven’s sake, please tell me you haven’t contacted him,’ said Rosalind, suddenly looking up and fixing Heidi with her pale eyes, ‘or seen him? Does he know about Johnny? What have you done?’
Heidi looked away.
‘I think Johnny may have met him, yes, but I don’t know for sure,’ Heidi replied, ‘but William won’t know about Johnny’s death yet. How could he? And I haven’t made contact.’
She studied her hands to cover the lie.
‘I think I’m going to write to him at the café he works in,’ she went on quickly, knowing she shouldn’t. ‘What do you think?’
Rosalind shook her head again, as if trying to rid her mind of a noise that wouldn’t go away.
‘I think you need to be bloody careful,’ she said in a cold, steady tone. ‘You need to leave well alone. You have your girls. Aren’t they enough? You can’t fill the hole in your life that Johnny has left with your long-lost son. It’s not the movies, Heidi. This is real life. You gave up your right to him long ago, and Johnny was a stupid fool to do this and leave you with this… mess! I’m so cross with him. If he was here now, I’d throttle him.’
Heidi was trembling. She wrapped her coat tighter around her body and instructed herself not to cry.
‘Of course the girls are enough!’ Heidi said. ‘It isn’t about them being “enough”. It’s not about them at all. I’m not trying to fill a void either. This is Johnny’s doing. He started this. He was trying to be kind and I can’t just leave it hanging in the air.’
‘Oh, but it is about the girls,’ Rosalind snapped. ‘How will they feel when you tell them you’ve deceived them their entire lives? That their own mother has lied to them every day of their lives?’
Heidi staggered backwards, aghast at the ferocity of Rosalind’s reaction.
‘I haven’t deceived them or lied to them,’ Heidi said quietly, ‘and if I explain exactly what happened, maybe they would understand. I think my girls would understand that it’s all very complicated, but at the end of the day, Johnny was trying to be kind and leave me a message, a gift, our…’
Her voice faded to nothing.
‘Don’t be naive,’ said Rosalind. ‘These things break families apart. You can’t just expect him to slot into your life and your daughters’ lives without all hell breaking loose. You’re not thinking straight. It’s because you’re grieving. You’ve lost your mind. It happens. In days gone past, women we
re sent to the asylum for being hysterical after a bereavement!’
‘What…?’ Heidi said. ‘I am not hysterical, but I do have emotions and I’m not afraid of them. Unlike you… you cold-blooded robot!’
The two women fell silent and stared at one another, their eyes conveying pain they couldn’t express, just as they had done decades earlier. Each seemed on the verge of exploding further, but both knew how ugly that would be.
‘Don’t speak to me like that,’ said Rosalind, her voice trembling. ‘We made the right decision for you, Heidi. You were a child.’
‘Sixteen actually,’ Heidi said. ‘Seventeen when he was born.’
‘That is a child,’ Rosalind said. ‘For heaven’s sake, you were unmarried and still at school. I wanted more for you.’
‘It was the 1980s!’ screamed Heidi. ‘Not the 1950s!’
‘We were trying to protect you!’ shouted Rosalind. ‘Give you the chance to have a decent future! We were protecting your reputation!’
‘And look where that’s got me,’ Heidi snapped.
‘Yes,’ said Rosalind. ‘Look where that’s got you!’
Rosalind marched towards the block of flats, where a couple of white-haired old ladies were staring out of their open windows, intrigued by the raised voices outside.
‘Where are you going?’ Heidi demanded, but Rosalind dismissed her with a sharp wave of her hand.
‘Don’t bother following me inside,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘I’ve heard quite enough.’
Heidi stood alone in the garden, the breeze blowing her hair into her eyes, feeling as though she had been punched in the guts. Tears on her cheeks, she carefully picked up her gift of the buckets that Rosalind had left on the floor and carried them over to the front porch, where Walter was putting away his tools, his tanned, knobbly arms and legs like pretzels.
‘Everything okay?’ he said. ‘Your mum’s doing a great job helping me in the garden. Fit as a fiddle that one.’
Heidi nodded once before returning to the car on jellied legs. Her hands were shaking and her breathing ragged. Before pushing the key in the ignition, she glanced up to Rosalind’s flat and saw her framed in the window, arms crossed defiantly, staring out at the horizon. Heidi raised a hand, waving a little white flag, but Rosalind ignored it and turned away, disappearing out of sight into the shadows. Nothing like a sunflower now.
Eleven
Heidi lined up her tools. Mallet. Tack remover. Pincers. Screwdriver. With her life in bits, she felt compelled to make something whole. She inspected the tête-à-tête chair that Max had collected, imagining the people who had sat on it and gossiped or stolen illicit kisses. It was looking rather sorry for itself, but Heidi was determined to bring it back to life. Preparing to carefully disassemble it, Heidi’s head rattled with Rosalind’s harsh words.
‘My mother was furious,’ Heidi told the green pot of Johnny’s ashes. ‘She said she wanted to throttle you.’
She couldn’t understand why Rosalind had been so furious. It was thirty-six, nearly thirty-seven years since William had been born – yet it still provoked the same shock in her mother as it had back then. She’d expected apprehension but not fury. There was something odd about it that Heidi couldn’t put her finger on.
‘Anyone in?’ came a voice at the door, along with a gentle knock. Max poked his head – scruffy sandy hair, a permanent tan and deep blue eyes – around the door and smiled, his gaze resting on the kissing chair. He wasn’t due in to the workshop today, but Heidi was relieved to see him – she needed him to do more hours to clear the backlog.
‘Hi, Max,’ she said. ‘Come in.’
Max smiled. Perhaps it was all the swimming he did now and in his youth – and the twenty years he had lived in California – but he radiated health. In his blue sailing jacket, he looked like he’d just stepped off a yacht. Indeed, since his wife Jane had died five years ago, he spent more time out on the sea than ever – on his kayak.
‘Been out on my kayak fishing for mackerel,’ he said. ‘I’ve brought you some – here.’
He placed a paper parcel on the worktop. ‘I’ve filleted them,’ he said. ‘They’re beautiful cooked on a barbecue, or you could do them in a pan with a bit of butter and lemon.’
‘Thank you, Max,’ she said. ‘That’s so kind.’
‘You should come with me sometime,’ he said. ‘It’s the most peaceful way to spend an afternoon.’
He ran his hand over the back of the tête-à-tête chair. ‘Isn’t this great? Can I sit?’
He sat down in one of the seats and gestured that Heidi should sit on the other. The two of them twisted to face each other and smiled.
‘How are things this week?’ Max said. ‘Are you swimming or sinking?’
‘Sinking,’ said Heidi, with a small sad laugh.
Max nodded and smiled kindly and knowingly. Ever since his return to the UK with his wife and son twenty years ago, Max had been in hers and Johnny’s lives. Their past relationship was forgotten and the two families had become firm friends. Heidi trusted Max and didn’t need to pretend she was coping when she wasn’t.
‘I’m drowning a bit with all the jobs even though I’ve postponed some projects,’ she said. ‘I could do with some more help.’
‘That’s why I’m here,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’
‘What?’ she said, feeling suddenly nervous.
‘A couple of people have asked if you’ll close now that Johnny has gone,’ he said.
‘What?’ Heidi said, leaping up from the seat. ‘Why would anyone say that?’
The question didn’t need an answer. She knew very well why people might wonder such a thing. With Johnny gone, she’d had to reduce her workload and was late with various projects. She lay in bed at night worrying that the business was spiralling out of control, but she felt this awful numbness where she felt powerless to take control.
‘It’s probably just because you’ve been closed more than normal,’ Max started gently, but Heidi interrupted.
‘Of course I’ve been closed more than normal!’ she snapped. ‘What do people expect? Their furniture can’t always come first!’
‘That’s why I’m here,’ said Max. ‘Don’t get upset, Heidi. I thought I could come in full time to help clear the decks. Free of charge. As a friend. It’s the least I can do. I know how you’re feeling right now. I’ve been through this too. Some days it’s as if the world has totally collapsed, isn’t it?’
Heidi folded her arms defiantly across her chest.
‘And I thought, in the longer term, that maybe I could work here more,’ he said. ‘Become a bigger part of the business. I have some savings; I could contribute.’
‘Oh, Max,’ she said. ‘I don’t need bailing out.’
‘I’m not trying to bail you out,’ he said. ‘This place is yours and Johnny’s family business and always will be. It just struck me that the two of us could become more of a team. I’d love to be more of a part of Eagles. But you’re the boss, obviously.’
Heidi gave him a gentle shove and swallowed. His kindness touched her but also made her miss Johnny dreadfully. They’d poured blood, sweat and tears into this business – it had been their dream.
‘Sorry,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
Max gave her a smile that overflowed with understanding.
‘You’re under a lot of pressure and you’re grieving,’ he said. ‘It’s never pretty, grief. I found it so hard when Jane died. I was so lonely without her, yet I didn’t want to mix with people. That’s why I spent so much time in my kayak! The sadness never goes away, but I think you find a way to live alongside it. I’ll make us a cup of tea, shall I? You’ll have to put those fish in the fridge soon too.’
She watched him move over to the sink and fill up the kettle.
‘You’ll get there,’ he added. ‘You just need more time.’
Heidi was quiet for a long moment.
&nb
sp; ‘There’s something else,’ she said quietly. Still holding the kettle, Max turned to face her.
‘Remember that Johnny and I had a baby?’ she said.
Max blanched.
‘Of course you remember,’ she said, blushing. ‘Sorry, Max. Anyway, we had this silent pact to never talk about him. But, before Johnny died, and without telling me, he found our son. He took a picture, on the day he died, of Main Street in Poole. There was a café in the picture and I went in it the other day. I saw our son in there, working. Johnny’s photograph was a message to me, to tell me where our son was. Is.’
Max put the kettle down and didn’t say a word, just waited for her to carry on talking.
‘I told my mother about it and she got so cross,’ Heidi continued. ‘She thinks that finding him again would be the worst thing I could do. I’m so exhausted by it all, and the one person I want to talk to about it isn’t here. I don’t know what to do. I don’t feel I can trust my own ability to make decisions at the moment. I don’t know how to feel. One minute I’m delighted that Johnny did this, the other I’m really cross with him.’
She shrugged, wiping a tear from her eye.
‘Johnny was a good man,’ Max said. ‘He would never have done anything to hurt you. He loved you, Heidi; I’ve always known that. Everyone has always known that. Perhaps, by doing this, by taking that photo, he wanted to leave you a gift? I can imagine him thinking like that.’
Heidi started pacing the workshop, relieved that finally someone understood.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s how I want to see it, but my mother doesn’t see it that way.’
‘Perhaps it’s a generational thing or because it reminds her of a difficult time in both your lives,’ Max said. ‘Of course you need to tread carefully, but in my opinion, life is too short to be ruled by your head. Meeting your son might be the most wonderful thing you ever do.’
Heidi hugged Max, grateful for him being hopeful and positive about the possibility of meeting William.
‘I won’t know until I try, will I?’ she said.