When she reached work, half the office had already left for the day. She took a bowl of fruit salad out of the fridge and sat in her office with the door shut. She checked her phone. No more threatening messages. But what he’d done to her car sent chills through her. Maybe that’s what he wanted. He’d attacked her property: was she next? She’d better send him something to shut him up. She took out her laptop and transferred five thousand pounds. Perhaps if she tried to explain exactly what happened that night, he’d leave her alone. She typed in his email address then stared at the blank screen, wondering what to say, where to begin. If she could go back in time and fix it, she would. She’d never meant to hurt anyone. She’d never forgiven herself for what she did, so how could she expect him to?
She stared out of the window at the rain-drenched street and the row of office units with their backs to her, until she was sitting in the dark.
Chapter Twelve
Kate sat in her office the next morning, wondering how she was going to persuade James to change his mind. What if she couldn’t? Did she love him enough to sacrifice her baby? Give up her final chance of being a mother? She gently pressed her palm to her tiny bump. This baby was relying on her for everything. She closed her eyes and silently promised to never let it down. Sally tapped on her door and brought in the post. Kate opened her eyes.
‘You okay?’ Sally asked.
‘I’m fine. How are the plans for the Shapeshifters escape room event coming on?’
‘All good. Their marketing woman, Izzy, has had a look at the list you sent her and would like to have a look round Emergency Exit in Luton with you.’
‘That’s fine, I’ll get in touch with Rupert and arrange it. Anything else?’
‘James is still insisting we use this company, Wigwam, for some of our graphic design. Says he worked with the MD years ago and really rates him.’
‘Fine, I’ll let him have that one, but the decision about how much we use them is mine. I’d rather stick with the local company for our everyday work.’
‘I agree with you. What happened to supporting small businesses in the community?’
‘He probably wants to help a few mates out. They’re welcome to do all our whizzy animations on websites and presentations, but that’s it.’
‘Is James coming in to the office today?’
‘I’m not sure. He’s gone to this meeting in London. I think it could take all day.’ Had Sally guessed they were barely talking? Perhaps it was obvious when they weren’t getting on. ‘It’s Mum’s first “Lifestyle” appointment today, so I’ll be leaving in about half an hour.’
‘Oh, of course, I hope it goes well. I’m making coffee, want one?’
‘Please.’ She sifted through the pile of letters and picked one out that was stamped on the front with the blue NHS logo. She wasn’t due any more appointments yet. Why would it be sent to work? She tore it open and took out a letter. A leaflet fell out of the middle: All Your Questions Answered About Having a Termination. What the fuck? She opened the letter: a hospital consent form for having an abortion. This must be James’s idea. She ripped it in half.
‘Here we are.’ Sally came in with her coffee.
Kate scooped the papers into the envelope and stuffed it all in her bag.
‘Are you okay?’ Sally put the mug down.
Kate held her hands together to stop them trembling. She took a minute before she spoke, deciding what to do next.
‘Sorry, I think I’d better leave now, pick Mum up before the lunchtime traffic.’
If James wasn’t going to change his mind, this could mean the end for them.
* * *
‘Sit yourself down, Mum, I’ll warm us up some butternut squash and sweet potato soup.’
Elizabeth looked out of place next to the shiny granite surfaces and clean lines in Kate’s kitchen. She tried to perch on a bar stool with the help of her stick, but it was too awkward for her, so she pulled a chair out from under the dining table.
‘Are you all right?’ Kate glanced over her shoulder. She ladled the soup into a saucepan. The round trip to the hospital and back had taken almost two hours. She’d been so tempted to text James about the leaflet and form but thought it would be better to save it until he got home. As soon as they’d had lunch, she would need to catch up on work emails, finalise details of a wine tasting event they were organising for a firm of solicitors.
‘It’s all going round in my head; everything they said, there’s so much to think about,’ Elizabeth said.
‘You need to take one day at a time.’ They’d given her mother the results of the ECG, which showed evidence of a silent heart attack a few months ago. Possibly around the time Dad died.
‘Did you see some of the women in there? They looked so old. Do I look like that?’ she said, patting her hair.
‘That doesn’t mean… look, you’re relatively fit and healthy for seventy-nine.’ Her mother looked tiny sitting at the huge table. No longer quite the ogre she remembered. ‘You’re as tough as old boots, Dad used to say, didn’t he?’
Elizabeth smiled faintly. She shifted her wedding ring back and forth over the groove of hardened skin.
They sat in silence, listening to the ticking of the wall clock. When Kate was growing up, she could talk about everything with her dad, but rarely spent time alone with her mother for fear of saying something that would rile her or invite close questioning. She could never relax and enjoy her company. There was always something wrong.
‘Have you heard from him again?’ Elizabeth asked her. At least they were united in one respect, never wanting to speak his name, but for very different reasons.
‘He’s messaged me a few times, but I think I’ve put a stop to it.’
‘Do you owe him all that money? Didn’t buy a house together, did you?’
‘Nothing like that, Mum. Honestly, it’s nothing to worry about.’
‘You never said how it ended.’
‘Because it was so long ago and there’s nothing to say.’
Somewhere in one of the quiet back lanes a dog barked. Kate stirred the thick orange mixture and inhaled the sweet, spicy smell.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. ‘You’ve told James about the baby then?’
Kate looked up, picturing the ripped-up form in her bag.
‘Didn’t take it too well?’
‘He doesn’t want me to keep it, no.’ Kate tasted the soup; it was only lukewarm.
‘And you do, at your age?’ Elizabeth’s eyes shone, still enjoying an insulting dig.
‘I can’t bear the thought of…’ Kate swallowed, ‘anyway, why not?’ She sliced a half baguette into chunks. The soup was developing a skin across its surface. She stirred it again.
‘I think you should keep it, but it would have been easier having a baby when you were younger.’
‘Yeah, thanks for that.’
‘I lost a baby once.’ Elizabeth hunched over.
Kate frowned.
‘Five and a half months gone.’ Her voice became so quiet Kate wasn’t sure she’d heard her correctly.
‘A few years after you.’
‘You never said.’ The photo in the hall of her parents in Trafalgar Square sprang to mind.
‘It was such a surprise when we found out. We didn’t think we’d ever be blessed.’ Elizabeth gave a thin smile. ‘But it wasn’t meant to be. Ray so wanted a son. We’d have named him Edward.’
Blessed? That wasn’t a term Kate ever thought she’d hear her mother use. She rubbed her forehead and tried to imagine a half-brother – taller than her, handsome, funny and caring. Her life would have been transformed. Elizabeth would have been so much happier. Perhaps her dad would have been more able to accept she wasn’t his. A dragging sensation pulled at her chest. Her mother’s words still chimed in her head as clear as the day she’d spoken them, sitting at the kitchen table smoking a cigarette. Ray in his chair opposite her, packing tobacco into his pipe and Kate coming in the back door with a baske
t of dried washing from the line.
‘I need to tell you both something important,’ she’d announced, tapping her cigarette on the cut-glass ashtray. ‘I think you’re old enough to take it in.’
Kate had frowned, side-eyed her dad for a clue, but he’d simply raised his eyebrows.
‘You can stop worrying about cancer because Ray is not your real dad.’ Her mother flicked the ash off her cigarette and drew in a lungful of smoke.
Ray stared at his wife as though she’d set herself on fire.
‘What in heavens name are you talking about?’ His throat caught on the last word.
‘I’m sorry, but it’s the truth and I can’t let her carry on thinking she might die young like your sister. I wish I could have told you sooner, but I couldn’t risk you leaving us.’
‘What do you mean? I’d never have left you.’ Ray stumbled on every word and Kate wished she could disappear. It had only been four months since her aunt had died from breast cancer and she’d thought about little else, worrying if that would be her future too. But now there was this new reality – her lovely daddy wasn’t her dad at all.
‘I was already twelve weeks pregnant when we got together. I had no idea, I might add.’
Kate would never forget the moment her dad looked round at her, frowning as though he didn’t recognise her any more.
‘Who is my dad then?’ Kate’s voice squeaked past the lump in her throat.
Her mum hesitated, glancing at Ray before she spoke.
‘His name was John and he emigrated to Australia.’
Her dad’s shoulders slumped; mouth lopsided as though he’d suffered a stroke.
‘What do you mean, was?’ Kate asked.
‘I heard he died in a car crash soon after.’
Kate had sobbed and fled from the kitchen up to her room and thrown herself on the bed. All her life she’d believed she took after Ray. A father who was kind to her, gentle and loving with strong family values, but now she didn’t know who she was. Did she have traits from her real dad – what was he like? Who was he? Why hadn’t her mother stayed with him? Had she thought of getting an abortion, of not telling Ray about it rather than live with this lie?
During the days after, Ray had kept to himself, not speaking to either of them unless he had to. He didn’t hug her as readily, and when he did there was an almost undetectable hesitation. She’d often caught him examining her face, no longer daddy’s girl. Perhaps wondering how much she looked like her real dad. Her mother stomped round the house, clearly regretting telling them the truth, expecting them both to have accepted it without such a fuss. She withdrew from Kate too, hardly speaking, making sure the radio or the television was on in the background, telling her to shush if she uttered one word. Kate felt like a stranger, rootless. Leaving had been her only option.
‘You look tired, Mum, why don’t you have a lie down before we eat?’ How much easier to share all this with a sibling. She tried to picture what her brother Edward would have looked like, standing with them now, comforting their mother. Why was her life full of longing for things she could never have?
They heard the shuffle of letters being pushed through the letterbox followed by a thud. Kate went out to the hall and picked up the post. She flicked through the pile as she walked back to the kitchen. Junk mail and bills. No NHS letters. Why get it sent to work?
Elizabeth tapped her nails on the table. ‘I need you to contact the bank for me about your dad’s account. I tried to get through but there are all sorts of numbers to choose and I ended up getting in a muddle then cut off. Why don’t they have real people answering the phone anymore?’
‘Haven’t you closed his account?’
‘I wrote to them to do that, but then I noticed a large sum has been going out of his account every month for the last few years. I want to know who and what it was for.’
‘Dad must have said something about it?’
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘Not a word. It’s drained most of our savings.’
‘Show me his statements when I drop you at home and I’ll look into it.’
‘I think I might go up.’ Elizabeth followed Kate up to the spare room.
‘There’s a box of junk down here for the charity shop if you want to have a rummage through, see if there’s anything you want.’
Downstairs, Kate gave the soup a final stir, put the lid on and turned off the hob. She checked her mobile. No new messages. It seemed that the five thousand pounds had satisfied him; for now, anyway. She stood still for a moment, thinking she’d heard an odd sound like a cat meowing. At the foot of the stairs, she half expected to see her mother standing at the top.
‘Mum?’ she called out, but her voice trailed off. She put a foot on the bottom stair, and hesitated. If she called again Elizabeth would complain that she couldn’t move any faster. Kate slowly climbed the stairs. Halfway up, her head level with the landing floor, she stopped. There was a strip of bright daylight across the bottom of the spare room door but no sign of movement. Her gut told her something wasn’t right. She reached the top of the stairs and barged into the room.
Elizabeth was sitting on the chair in the corner, her head hung low as if she’d nodded off to sleep.
‘Mum, are you okay?’ Kate rushed across the room.
Elizabeth raised her head. Her mother was crying.
‘What is it, Mum, what’s wrong?’ Kate knelt next to her, but Elizabeth stared into space, her skin grey, eyes shadowy. The main box for the charity shop lay untouched, but a shoebox next to it, with all her old bits of jewellery and trinkets, was open.
‘Mum?’ She tried to rouse her again by squeezing her arm, but there was no response. A white satin jewellery box decorated with seed pearls she’d received for her tenth birthday was on top, the glue now discoloured yellow. It contained all sorts of odd earrings and chains.
Her mother was clutching something in her hand.
‘What’s that, Mum?’
Elizabeth snapped out of her trance and fixed her gaze upon Kate.
‘You stole this from me.’ Elizabeth shook her fist.
‘What is it?’
Elizabeth opened her palm to reveal a tiny silk purse with the initials M.L. embroidered on the front.
‘I… I don’t remember seeing this before.’ Kate’s face felt hot. She peered at the tiny object, not much bigger than a box of matches.
‘I’ve been wondering where it was for years, decades. I’ve searched everywhere.’ Her mother’s voice crackled. She was visibly shaking.
‘I’m so sorry, I—’
‘And all the time, you had it.’ She pointed at Kate.
‘But the initials…?’
‘It’s mine.’ Her fingers closed around it.
‘I don’t know how it got there.’
But her mother wasn’t listening. She opened the purse and took out a cream plastic disc with the number 23 carved into it. She smoothed her thumb across its surface, shutting her eyes.
‘Mum?’
‘Always stealing from me.’ Her mouth made a drooping shape as though she’d eaten something bitter. ‘Take, take, take.’
‘That’s not true!’ Kate couldn’t think what this was about. What did it mean?
Her mother put the disc back in the purse. ‘And all that money I’d saved for a holiday. What made you think you deserved it more?’
‘We’ve been through this and I’ve paid you back.’
‘You can’t erase what you did.’ She jabbed her finger at Kate. ‘You’ve no idea, do you…?’ Her face contorted into a grimace. She caged her face in her fingers. ‘This is the only thing…’ She took her hands away and glared at Kate, ‘…the only thing I have from my mother… that I’ve ever had.’
A sudden chill ran through Kate.
‘You’re a spoilt, spoilt girl!’ Her mother shouted.
Kate stepped back as if caught in the backdraught of a passing juggernaut.
‘You had everything, everything handed to yo
u.’ Her mother glared at her. Kate had the urge to run downstairs and out of the house, but her mother rose and came towards her. Kate backed out of the room; the door slammed in her face.
Kate stood on the landing wondering how she’d managed to upset her mother yet again.
The memory of a hot summer came to her. She was picking tomatoes in the baking hot greenhouse with her dad, the bitter smell of vines on her fingers. She’d asked him if Elizabeth was her real mum.
‘Don’t ask such stupid questions,’ he said, showing a rare glimmer of anger.
‘But why doesn’t she like me?’
‘Of course she likes you.’
‘Why don’t I have grandparents?’
‘Your mother lost her parents when she was very little.’ He hadn’t looked at her when he said it, which left no room for further questions. But he made it clear that she must never ask Elizabeth anything. She remembered wishing for a breeze to roll in and carry away the sour stench of the geraniums under the workbench and how deceptively pretty they looked.
It wasn’t until years later that Kate asked her father again about her mother’s parents. He was digging a grave for her dog, Jerry, in a shaded corner of the garden. ‘Were they old like Jerry?’ she’d asked. ‘We don’t honestly know, love,’ her dad had told her. But the unsatisfactory answer hung above their heads. She wondered why she couldn’t ask her mum about it. She’d helped him wrap Jerry’s body in his favourite blanket, then placed him in the grave with his collar on top. Tears dampened her cotton dress when he handed her Jerry’s name tag then hugged her. She’d held him as tight as she could.
The bedroom door burst open, jolting Kate out of her daydream.
A Mother Like You Page 8