Once Too Often

by Dorothy Simpson

  ‘We have no objection to Miss Covin being present, if she wishes,’ said Thanet.

  Karen finally managed to free herself from Covin’s grasp. ‘There you are, Dad. That’s all right, then.’

  ‘Inspector,’ said Covin, turning to face Thanet. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I think it would be better to continue this interview at the Police Station.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Karen. ‘I think the Inspector would be interested in what I have to say.’

  They all looked at Covin who seemed to shrink before their eyes. It was as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of him.

  ‘You won’t stop me, Dad,’ she said softly, and put her hand on his arm.

  He looked directly into her face for the first time, a long searching look, and she stared back. The air between them was dense with emotion, charged with words unspoken, explanations long delayed. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘I can see I won’t.’

  She tucked her arm through his and led him to the sofa where they sank down on to it, side by side.

  Thanet introduced himself and Lineham, before saying, ‘As you’ve no doubt gathered, we’re investigating the death of your . . . of Mrs Jessica Manifest, or Jessica Dander as she was professionally known. I don’t know how much you heard just now . . .’

  ‘Most of it,’ Karen said. ‘I parked around the back and came in through the back door. Dad’s a shocker, he never locks it.’

  ‘Karen –’ said Covin.

  ‘Shh,’ she said, and squeezed his arm. ‘You’re not stupid, Inspector,’ she went on. ‘You wouldn’t have reached your present rank if you were. So you must realise Dad’s story is as full of holes as a colander.’ She laid a warning hand on Covin’s arm as he made a movement of protest. ‘It’s no good, Dad. I told you, I’ve made up my mind.’

  ‘I had noticed certain discrepancies,’ said Thanet.

  ‘And I suspect you can guess why.’

  ‘He was trying to protect you,’ said Thanet, catching a reproachful glance from Lineham. Why didn’t you tell me? He’d have to explain, later. ‘I assume you’ve come back to sort things out.’

  ‘Yes. And to return the car, of course. I couldn’t hang on to it indefinitely.’

  ‘We’re all ears,’ said Thanet. He couldn’t believe it. The case was going to be cleared up in time for the wedding after all! There was going to be no coercion, no persuasion, no manipulation, just a straightforward confession, and all he had to do was sit back and listen! The only problem was, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it. He suspected that this was going to be one of those cases where he understood only too well why the crime had been committed, even had a sneaking sympathy for the perpetrator.

  ‘It all began,’ said Karen, ‘because my roommate and I are planning to go Interrailing around Europe next summer and I needed a passport of my own.’

  And there it was, the key to the whole puzzle, something so simple and so obvious. Why on earth didn’t I catch on before? thought Thanet, castigating himself. I knew about the Interrailing plans, Lineham told me, early on.

  ‘And for that, of course, I needed my birth certificate.’

  Thanet glanced at the photographs, his gaze lingering on the one of Karen in ski outfit. ‘Hadn’t you been abroad before?’

  ‘Oh yes, a number of times. But first on my parents’ passports, then on a group passport, for school trips. This is the first time I’d needed one of my own.’

  Once again Thanet was kicking himself. He’d known about passport arrangements for children too, from personal experience, but again it hadn’t clicked.

  ‘I’d been nagging Dad to let me have my birth certificate for ages but first he kept on coming up with the excuse that he hadn’t had time to look, then he kept on promising to look but never seemed to get around to it. When it got to the point where I was due to leave for the new term and he still hadn’t produced it I said I was fed up with waiting and I was going to send off for a copy.’

  ‘This was on Tuesday evening?’

  ‘Yes, at supper. So, of course, he finally had to tell me the truth.’

  So far she had appeared calm, composed. Now for the first time there was a tremor in her voice.

  Thanet glanced at Covin. The man hadn’t said a single word, he realised, ever since his bid to continue the interview back at Headquarters had failed. Covin was hunched into a corner of the sofa staring down at his hands, the picture of defeat and grim resignation. He wasn’t smoking either, Thanet noticed. Perhaps he was beyond consolation.

  Someone hammered on the front door. ‘Bernie?’

  Thanet recognised Landy’s voice.

  Covin glanced at Thanet for permission before going to deal with the inquiry and there was a murmured conversation in the hall.

  In the interval no one spoke. There was a tacit agreement, it seemed, to wait for Covin to return before continuing.

  When he had done so Thanet said, ‘The truth being . . .?’ It had to be spelled out. There was no room for misunderstandings and further false assumptions at this juncture.

  Karen took a deep breath and began to talk.

  Thanet could imagine it all so clearly:

  ‘Oh Dad, you promised you’d find it before I went back, you really did. I’ve been asking you for months.’

  I know. But there’s no hurry, is there? There’s plenty of time before next summer.’

  It seems as though there’s plenty of time, but you know as well as I do that if I’m not here to keep on at you, you’ll never get around to it. I really can’t see the difficulty. There are only a limited number of places you’d have put a birth certificate, surely. I’m sorry, I really don’t want to wait any longer. I think the easiest thing would be for me to send off for a copy.’

  ‘No! There’s no need for that!’

  Isn’t there? When did I first ask you to look it out for me? In July? That’s three months ago! No, forget it. I’ll see to it myself.’

  ‘Karen –’

  Yes?’

  I . . . To be honest . . . To tell you the truth . . . I suppose I’ve just been putting off the evil hour.’

  ‘What d’you mean, “evil hour”?’

  I . . . The reason I haven’t produced it . . .’

  You mean, you do know where it is? You do? So what are you trying to say?’

  I didn’t want to give it to you because I knew that when you saw it . . . Oh, it was stupid of me, I know that. Like I said, I was just putting it off, that’s all. Pointless!’

  ‘Putting what off? Dad, you’re frightening me! Tell me!’

  ‘Telling you . . . telling you that you were adopted . . . Karen, love, don’t look at me like that!’

  ‘But why didn’t you tell me before? I mean, my God, Dad, everybody, but everybody knows you should always tell adopted children the truth, right from the beginning, practically as soon as they’re old enough to talk! You know, all that stuff about really really wanting a baby and picking her out because she was so special . . . What? Why are you shaking your head?’

  ‘That’s the point, love, it wasn’t like that.’

  ‘What do you mean, it wasn’t like that? You mean, you didn’t pick me out? What did you do? Find me under a blackberry bush or something?’

  ‘No, of course not!’

  Well, what did you mean?’

  ‘That’s one of the reasons why we never told you. It was all so complicated. When I said “adopted” I didn’t actually mean legally adopted.’

  ‘Dad, for crying out loud! I just can’t believe this is happening!’

  ‘Calm down, love.’

  ‘Calm down! How can you expect me to be calm? Suddenly my parents are not my parents any more and I’m not even legally adopted? So who am I? And what about my mother? Who was she? Her name must be on that certificate. I want to see it.’

  All in good time, love. I might as well tell you now, myself. She was – is – your aunt Jessica.’

  ‘My aunt Jessica? Auntie Jessica i
s my mother?’

  And then had come the explanations, how Madge had longed for children but after years of trying had still failed to conceive, how she had seen Jessica’s baby as the perfect answer, a child of her own blood, how they had managed to deceive everyone into thinking the child was theirs.

  Throughout Karen’s account of this conversation Covin hadn’t moved. It was as if he were in a state of suspended animation, waiting for something. But for what? Thanet wondered. Simply for Karen to finish, for this painful narration to be over? But no, she had stopped talking now and that air of frozen anticipation still seemed to encase the man like a shroud.

  ‘It must all have been a terrible shock for you,’ said Thanet.

  ‘You can say that again! To find out that my mother was really my aunt and my aunt my mother, that everyone I loved and trusted had been deceiving me since the day I was born! It was as if . . . as if . . . Oh, I don’t know. As if the foundations of my world had suddenly been knocked away. How could you do that to me?’ she cried, addressing her father directly for the first time since she had begun her story. ‘Can you even begin to imagine how I felt – how I feel?’

  Now, at last, he moved. I’m sorry, love,’ he whispered. The look he gave her was full of contrition, true, but there was more to it than that, a hunger to know.

  And that must be it, of course, thought Thanet. Covin was longing to find out exactly what had happened at Jessica’s house that night. Thanet’s guess was that after all these revelations Karen’s hurt and anger had been so intense that her overwhelming need had been to go and confront her mother. No doubt she had just grabbed the keys to her father’s car and taken off – and afterwards had driven straight on to Reading. No wonder her father had been ‘on edge’, as Landy put it, when he delivered the pickup to him.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Karen, confirming what Thanet had been thinking, ‘naturally I couldn’t possibly just swan off to college leaving everything in the air like that. I had to see Jessica first; there were things I really needed to know. So I just took Dad’s car keys and went. I was in such a state, I can’t tell you . . . I don’t remember anything about the journey.’

  Thanet was aware that Lineham had stirred and he could guess what the sergeant was thinking. Not a good idea to drive when you’re in that condition. Lineham was very hot on road safety. He glanced at him, willing him to keep quiet. He didn’t want to interrupt the flow of Karen’s story.

  Lineham must have got the message because he settled down again.

  ‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘it wasn’t until I got there that it occurred to me she might not be in. It simply never entered my head. It was as if I needed to see her so much she just couldn’t not be there, if you see what I mean. I was so relieved when I saw the lights were on and then, when she answered the door . . . It was odd. She’s always been a part of my life, but it was as if I was seeing her for the first time. Not my aunt, but my mother.’ Karen shook her head. ‘I just couldn’t seem to make the transition. Mum – my real mother – was dead. I couldn’t speak, I just stood there.’

  ‘Karen? What is it? What’s the matter? Come in.’

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘She took me by the arm,’ said Karen, ‘and tugged me in. I shook her off. I couldn’t bear her to touch me.’

  ‘Karen, what is the matter. Look, come into the sitting room and sit down.’

  ‘No! I’m not here for a cosy little chat!’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘Dad’s just told me the truth.’

  ‘What do you mean, the truth?’

  ‘That you . . . That you’re my . . . my mother.’

  ‘Oh God, no! The bastard! He swore he’d never tell!’

  ‘I think you’ll have to be careful how you use that word around me in future. And is that all you can say, anyway? Not, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Karen, I really didn’t want to hand you over to someone else like an unwanted Christmas present.” Or, “It really broke my heart to give you away, but I had no choice?”’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry you’re upset, of course I am.’

  ‘And that’s it? You’re sorry I’m upset, full stop?’

  ‘It’ll only make things worse if I’m hypocritical about it.’

  ‘What do you mean, hypocritical? Oh, I see. You’re saying you never wanted me in the first place, right?’

  ‘No, I’m not saying that . . .’

  ‘Well what are you saying?’

  ‘I suppose if I’m honest . . . Let me put it another way. How many teenagers who discover they’re pregnant actually want the baby? At least I had you, didn’t I? I didn’t have an abortion.’

  ‘And I’m supposed to be grateful?’

  ‘It’s better to be alive than dead, isn’t it? Look, I don’t think there’s any point in continuing this conversation. We’ll talk again when you’ve calmed down.’

  ‘Don’t you dare turn away from me like that! What makes you think you have the right to dictate terms anyway? Don’t you think it’s about time I had my say?’

  I’m not saying you shouldn’t! I’m just saying that it might be better to wait to talk about this until you’ve calmed down.’

  ‘Better for whom? For you, you mean! No, you’re just trying to wriggle out of an uncomfortable situation, aren’t you? It must be so inconvenient to have your illegitimate child turn up after all these years, asking awkward questions! Well, you needn’t think you’re going to get rid of me as easily as that! I came here for an explanation and I’m not leaving until I’ve had it!’

  ‘All right, all right! If you insist. But please, can’t we at least sit down and talk sensibly about this? I really can’t see why you’re being so aggressive. You had a good home, didn’t you? Parents who loved you?’

  Yes, of course. But . . .’

  ‘There you are, then. I really did try to do my best for you, in the circumstances.’

  ‘But why the charade of Mum pretending to be pregnant, all those elaborate arrangements?’

  ‘It just seemed better that way, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s no answer!’

  ‘Well, it’s all the answer you’re going to get, so you might as well make up your mind to be satisfied with it!’

  ‘How dare you say that! Don’t you think I’m entitled to an explanation?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I refuse to be interrogated like this.’

  ‘And why have I never been told the truth until now?’

  ‘That was the agreement. In fact, the agreement was that you never would be and Bernard never should have broken it.’

  ‘But you must have realised I’d need to see my birth certificate at some time in my life?’

  ‘Your birth certificate? Is that what happened? You saw your birth certificate? Oh God, how stupid can you get? Would you believe, that simply never occurred to us?’

  • • •

  It might seem difficult to credit, thought Thanet, but he could see how it might have come about. Preoccupation with the here and now could well have blinded them to an eventuality in the distant future. Otherwise they could easily have overcome the problem by Jessica giving Madge’s name as her own when she had the baby in Bristol. A hospital has to notify the local registrar of a baby’s birth, but if the medical staff had been given the wrong information this would presumably simply have been passed on and entered on the birth certificate. And why hadn’t it occurred to them later? Well, it all happened twenty years ago. They must long since have been lulled into a sense of false security, have decided that any risk of discovery was past. For the first time he wondered how Jessica must have felt, seeing her child grow up under her sister’s roof, unaware of her true parentage. According to Karen’s account of their conversation it hadn’t bothered her in the least. It sounded as though Jessica had been entirely devoid of maternal feelings. She certainly hadn’t produced any more offspring. Though it was possible that on Tuesday evening she had been so unprepared for the situation that the only way she had been able to deal with Kar
en’s attack was by keeping a tight rein on that unpredictable temper of hers, aware that this might make her seem hard and unfeeling but prepared to take the risk. She might in any case have thought it pointless to do otherwise. It was, after all, a little late in the day for a touching mother-and-daughter reconciliation.

  ‘Anyway, what did you mean, that was the agreement, that I would never be told the truth. What agreement?’

  ‘The condition on which I agreed to hand you over.’

  ‘You mean . . . Oh, I see. I understand now. You mean, you’d really intended to have an abortion, but because Mum put pressure on you, begged you to let her have me, you agreed on condition that no one should ever know I was yours!’

  ‘I think that just about sums it up, yes.’

  ‘But why was it so important to you that no one should know? Why would it have been so dreadful simply to have me and let it be known that your sister was bringing me up?’

  ‘We thought it would be confusing for you, if you knew you had two mothers, so to speak.’

  ‘Oh come on, don’t give me that! Children are brought up by their grandmothers, by stepmothers, by foster mothers . . . I’m sorry, I simply can’t accept that And it couldn’t have been because of the stigma. I know it was twenty years ago, but it wasn’t exactly the dark ages, was it?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Karen, do stop going on! Isn’t it enough that I had you, that I made sure you had a good home, people who really cared about you? It wasn’t much fun, you know, being pregnant at sixteen and having to leave school when I’d hoped to go to university.’

  ‘Oh, tough! You could have gone later. Lots of people take a year out.’

  ‘Some year out! Believe me, having a baby is a bit different from backpacking to India. It changes you, eats away at your motivation as far as academic work is concerned. And it’s all very well burbling on about it not being the dark ages and so on, but just think how many girls still feel as I did, even now, these days, when you trip over single mothers at every turn. It all depends on the individual and on her circumstances. How often do you read of some poor infant being abandoned in a telephone box or in a carrier bag on a rubbish heap? At least I made sure you were well cared for. So don’t give me that stuff, don’t try to minimise the problems I had and the difficulties I went through. You can’t begin to imagine how it feels until it happens to you.’