by Gwyneth Rees
And that’s when Jennifer mumbled, ‘But Esmie isn’t.’
‘Esmie?’ Mr Mitchell looked at me in surprise.
When Jennifer didn’t seem able to say anything else, Matthew spoke. ‘Esmie’s managed to track down Jennifer’s aunt, so we’re hoping she might be able to help us.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Mr Mitchell was staring at me as if Matthew had just announced I could fly or something.
‘Neither do I,’ Dad said. ‘Esmie, how did you manage to find Jennifer’s aunt?’
So I told them how I’d managed to find the right Doctor Helen Forbes – and a wrong one – by looking up her name in the medical register in the library.
‘How on earth did you know to do that?’ Dad asked.
I remembered how Lizzie had given me the lead about the medical register. ‘It sort of came up during the course of another investigation,’ I explained.
‘Another investigation?’
‘Yes. You see, I want to be a detective like you when I grow up, Dad,’ I told him, to clarify things. ‘So I’ve been practising.’
The following Sunday, Jennifer came round to tell us that she’d spoken to her aunt on the phone the previous day and that they were going to meet next week. Things were still difficult between Jennifer and her dad but, now that he’d agreed that she could search for her mother if she wanted, she had decided to move back home again. Jennifer’s dad wasn’t trying to stop her seeing Matthew any more either (much to Holly’s disappointment).
‘I keep telling Dad that I’m not going to leave him, just because I find her,’ Jennifer said as she sat with me and Matthew at our kitchen table, drinking Coke and eating our way through a packet of chocolate digestives. ‘I really think that’s what he’s most afraid of – not about me getting hurt at all.’
‘He did have a point the other day though, didn’t he?’ Matthew said, frowning. ‘About how she could have contacted you at any time if she’d wanted to see you again, because she knows where you are.’
Jennifer looked uncomfortable. ‘Maybe she thinks I wouldn’t want to see her if she just turned up like that.’
‘Maybe.’ Matthew didn’t sound convinced and it struck me that he was beginning to sound more like he was on Jennifer’s father’s side than on Jennifer’s.
‘Does your aunt have any idea where your mum might be?’ I asked Jennifer, because I for one still really wanted her to find her mother.
‘Not really – she hasn’t heard from her in years. But she’s got contact details for some old friends of my mum’s who might be able to help.’
‘Did she tell you much about her?’
Jennifer nodded. ‘It sounds like my mum and my aunt had a really tough time being abandoned by their mum and dad when they were little. Helen says she thinks my mum never got over it. She says she reckons that could be why she freaked out and couldn’t cope with being a parent herself.’
‘You’d think the last thing she’d do is abandon her own child after it happened to her,’ Matthew grunted.
‘Yes, but it isn’t that simple,’ Jennifer said, frowning.
‘How simple is keeping in touch with your own daughter?’
‘Well, she tried, but my dad ripped up her letter, didn’t he?’
‘She could’ve written some more letters. Or come back to see you. I mean, parents split up all the time, but that doesn’t mean they don’t see their kids any more, does it?’
‘I saw a TV programme round at Holly’s a while back,’ I put in quickly. ‘They were interviewing all these kids whose parents had split up and loads of them never saw their dads any more.’
‘Exactly!’ Jennifer said sharply. ‘You’re just saying it’s weird because it was my mum who left and not my dad. You’re just being sexist, Matthew.’
‘No I’m not. I just think that if your own mother couldn’t be bothered to—’
‘Shut up, Matthew!’ Jennifer burst out, looking like she was about to start crying.
My brother immediately backed down. ‘Jen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—’ But she had already stormed out.
Dad came downstairs then and wanted to know what was going on. Matty was standing in the hall with the front door still open, looking really worried, and I could see he wanted to talk to Dad about what had happened, so I left them to it.
I had other things to think about anyway. Lizzie was coming round for Sunday lunch and I’d arranged for Holly to come round with her mum and her aunt and her aunt’s baby – who’s called Ella – just afterwards. Holly had assured me that even people who didn’t normally like babies could never resist Ella. And this would also give me a chance to show Dad how much I’d just love to have a baby in our household myself.
Lizzie arrived and we all had lunch together and, when Dad mentioned that maybe we could go for a walk in the afternoon as it was a really nice day, I quickly told him about our expected visitors. He didn’t look at all pleased. Holly and her mum arrived just as we were clearing up the lunch dishes and the second they walked in the door, Matty grunted that he had to go upstairs and finish off his homework. Holly looked really disappointed.
Holly’s aunt hadn’t come, having decided to take up the offer of free babysitting that afternoon while she escaped to the shops. ‘Poor thing, she’s totally desperate for some time to herself,’ Holly’s mum said as soon as they’d got seated.
We all sat gazing at baby Ella who was really cute. I sneaked a look at Dad to check out his reaction to her as I crossed the room to give Holly’s mum the baby clothes Lizzie and I had bought as a present the other day.
Then Ella started to cry.
And she went on crying.
‘Can you take her for a minute while I go and get her stuff out of the car?’ Holly’s mother said to Lizzie. She sounded harassed. ‘I’d forgotten how much stuff babies need with them wherever they go. It’s like packing for a fortnight’s holiday every time you step out the front door.’
In a perfect world, Ella would have stopped crying the second Lizzie took her in her arms, showing what a wonderful mother Lizzie was going to be. But Lizzie seemed to make the baby worse by jiggling her about.
‘Here,’ she said to Dad after she’d had Ella screaming in her ear for several minutes. ‘You take her.’
And the second Dad had Ella in his arms, she stopped crying.
‘Look, Dad!’ I said enthusiastically. ‘She must really like you!’
Then Ella puked up all over him.
After Dad had got cleaned up, Ella had been changed, and we’d all gulped down cups of tea as fast as we could, Holly’s mum said they’d better be getting home so that Ella could have her afternoon nap, because if she missed it she would be a total nightmare to look after for the rest of the day.
The minute they’d left, Dad asked if I’d mind going upstairs for a bit so that Lizzie and he could have some time on their own. I was scared they were going to have a row after I left them together but, strangely enough, the opposite happened. I had just reached the top landing when I heard them burst out laughing.
I lay on my bed, not sure what to think. I couldn’t help glancing across at my mother’s photo and wondering what she would make of all this. I suddenly thought about how, if she had lived, she might have had another baby after me. I’d never asked Dad whether or not they’d been planning to have any more or whether they’d made up their minds to stop at two. And then something else hit me. I couldn’t imagine why I hadn’t thought of it before.
My mum had died giving birth to me, hadn’t she? That was how Dad had lost her. So what if the reason he didn’t want Lizzie to have a baby was because he was scared he might lose her that way too?
It was suddenly all so clear to me that I couldn’t wait to make things clear to Lizzie and Dad too. I raced downstairs and burst into the room – catching Dad in the middle of kissing Lizzie on the sofa.
They sprung apart as soon as I came in.
‘Listen, Dad,’ I blurted out. ‘Holly showed me
this magazine article ages ago that said how it’s easier to get run over by a bus than to die in childbirth these days.’
‘Esmie, what are you talking about?’ Dad looked confused.
‘Or a car,’ I added because, now I came to think about it, I wasn’t sure the article had said it was common for people to get run over specifically by buses.
Dad didn’t look any more enlightened.
‘I’m talking about how Lizzie isn’t going to die like my mum did, if she has a baby.’ I turned to Lizzie and announced dramatically, ‘That’s the reason he doesn’t want you to have one, Lizzie!’
Dad was sitting up straight now, shaking his head at me and looking perplexed. ‘Esmie, stop this!’
‘But, Dad, it’s obvious that—’
‘Esmie, listen!’ Dad was frowning. ‘Of course I’d be more nervous in the delivery room than your average expectant father, but that’s not the reason I feel the way I do about having another baby.’ He sighed. ‘If you must know, it’s all the interrupted nights and the endless feeds and the dirty nappies and all that work all over again. That’s what I’m afraid of.’
I was gobsmacked. I looked at Lizzie but she was avoiding my gaze. She didn’t look surprised though, so I guessed Dad had already had this conversation with her.
‘Didn’t you like me and Matthew when we were babies then?’ I asked in a small voice.
‘Of course I did. Just because it was your mother who felt ready to have kids, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t delighted when you both came along. But, quite frankly, the thought of going through all that baby stuff again . . .’ He pulled a face.
Lizzie was staring at him. ‘So you mean you had to have your arm twisted the first time round as well?’
Dad looked at her warily. ‘Yes, but—’
Before he could continue, the phone rang and he swiftly went to answer it.
‘Hold on a minute, Jennifer. I’ll go and get him,’ we heard him say. Matthew had tried to phone Jennifer earlier and she had refused to speak to him. Then he’d wanted to go round there, but Dad had warned him that Jennifer probably needed some time on her own. Now it sounded like Jennifer had decided she was ready to talk to him after all. I only hoped she wasn’t phoning to dump him.
‘That row with Jennifer wasn’t really Matty’s fault,’ I told Dad when he came back into the living room. ‘He was only thinking about her. I mean, it must be horrible knowing your mum left you when you were little. That’s why Matty said those things about her – because he doesn’t think she should have done that to Jennifer.’
Dad said gently, ‘I know, sweetheart, but you’ve got to understand that, despite everything, Jennifer still has feelings of loyalty towards her mum.’
‘Even though her mum abandoned her?’
Dad nodded. ‘That’s right.’
I thought about my mother then, and how I still had feelings of loyalty towards her, even though she’d gone and left me too – though in a different way. ‘I suppose it’s a bit like how I feel about my mum,’ I said. Dad looked like he wasn’t too sure what I meant so I added, ‘I mean, I still feel like I should be loyal to her even though she isn’t here and . . . and I do worry whether Lizzie minds that . . .’ I trailed off.
After a few seconds, Lizzie asked quietly, ‘Why do you think I would mind that, Esmie?’
‘If you got married to Dad, I mean,’ I added, flushing slightly. ‘Because then you’d be . . . you know . . .’
The room was silent for several moments and I started to think I should learn to keep my feelings to myself in future. Lizzie was looking like she didn’t know what to say.
Then Dad started talking slowly. ‘Esmie, listen to me . . . Your mother was very special. She can’t be replaced by anybody else. And neither can Lizzie. And it’s the same for your feelings. The feelings you have for your mother won’t be replaced by the ones you have for Lizzie. You’re going to have feelings for Lizzie and feelings for your mum, and Lizzie knows that.’
I stared at Dad. I’d hardly heard him say anything about feelings before – Juliette always said that was partly because he was a man and partly because he was English – and here he was practically delivering a whole speech on the subject.
Lizzie was looking surprised too and her expression quickly changed to one of such warmth and . . . I don’t know . . . admiration . . . that I suddenly felt like everything might be OK after all. And that even though Lizzie wanted a baby and Dad didn’t, they both still wanted each other. And that maybe – just maybe – they could work things out without my help.
A few weeks later Dad asked me and Matthew how we’d feel about Lizzie moving in with us.
‘Are you going to get married?’ I asked him, thinking about how much I wanted to be a bridesmaid.
‘We’re going to try living together first,’ Dad said. ‘Then we’ll see.’
‘But does Lizzie still want a baby?’ I asked him.
Dad looked at me sternly. ‘Lizzie and I have been talking, Esmie, and we both agree that we’d like it if you didn’t feel the need to have quite so much . . . information . . . about our relationship in future. And that includes issues about babies, OK?’
Matthew sniggered.
I scowled at my brother. ‘I was only trying to help. Which is more than you’ve been doing!’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve got my own girlfriend to think about, without worrying about Dad’s,’ he replied. Jennifer and Matthew were still seeing each other, but Jennifer was clearly much more interested in finding her mum than in anything else at the moment. And although Matthew was supporting her in that, I was pretty certain that he’d prefer to be at the top of Jennifer’s list of priorities himself. (Holly had been horrified that Jennifer hadn’t even gone with him to the hospital when he’d had his plaster cast removed, which she said just proved he needed a girlfriend who was more caring – like her.)
Jennifer and her aunt were currently waiting to hear back from some of her mother’s old friends, who they had written to together and who they hoped might know where she was. But Jennifer had told me that even if she never found her mum, at least she was getting to know her Aunt Helen, thanks to me.
‘So is Lizzie still going to see her therapist?’ Juliette asked me when I phoned her to tell her about Lizzie moving in with us.
‘Yes. She says she still finds it helpful, so she’s going to keep going for a bit, despite what Dad thinks.’
‘And what does your father think?’
‘I don’t know. When I asked him he said it was none of my business. But he is doing this one thing Lizzie asked him to do after her last session with Andrew. He’s sorting out all the stuff in our loft.’
‘Huh?’
‘You know . . . all that stuff of my mum’s that we’ve still got up there.’
‘Ah . . . I see . . .’
‘Oh and, Juliette, we’re getting a kitten after all! Lizzie’s getting one from someone at work and she’s bringing it home with her this afternoon.’
‘Wonderful!’
‘It’s a boy kitten so I want to call it Sherlock after Sherlock Holmes, or Hercule after Hercule Poirot, because they’re my two favourite detectives.’
Juliette laughed. ‘Are you still practising to be a detective yourself ?’
‘Yes, but I haven’t got a case at the moment.’
‘Well, if you are not busy, I was wondering, would you like to come and visit me in Paris for a weekend soon?’
‘Oh, YES!’ I yelled.
‘But I do not want you looking for skeletons on the Champs-Élysées! Or chasing murderers up the Tour Eiffel! I just want us to go shopping, you understand. Nothing else.’
‘Don’t worry, Juliette. I promise I won’t even bring my detective book with me,’ I reassured her.
I heard the front door opening and Lizzie shouting, ‘Come and see what I’ve got!’
‘That’s Lizzie with our kitten!’ I told Juliette. ‘I’ll call you back later.’
I raced dow
nstairs and got there just as Matthew was undoing the latches on the cat carrier that Lizzie had put down in the middle of the hallway.
‘Careful, Matty. We don’t want to scare it,’ Dad said, standing just behind him. ‘Just lift up the lid and let it stay in its box for now.’
I stepped closer to look inside the box. Huddled in the corner was this really small, cute black kitten with white paws – and when it looked up I saw that it had a white moustache.
‘Hercule Poirot!’ I announced immediately.
‘Don’t be daft, Esmie,’ Matty snapped. ‘You can’t call him that!’
The kitten gave a little mew as I knelt down and gently put my hand out to stroke him. ‘See,’ I said, ‘he likes his name. We can call him Hercule for short.’
Hercule let out an even louder miaow and got up on his hind legs to peer out over the side at us.
‘He’s certainly got a moustache like Hercule Poirot’s,’ Lizzie pointed out.
‘Except it’s white instead of black,’ Matty said. ‘And anyway, it isn’t really a moustache.’
‘Well, what do you want to call him then?’ I snapped at my brother.
Matty just shrugged like he was far too cool to waste his time thinking up names for kittens. ‘I don’t care.’
‘In that case,’ Dad said firmly, ‘Hercule it is!’
I giggled. ‘Now we’ve got three detectives in the family!’
Matthew let out a loud groan like he thought I was the most uncool sister anyone ever had, but I decided to let it pass. After all, when I grow up I’m going to be a real detective – and I’d like to see Matthew accuse me of not being cool then.