A Mother Like You

by Ruby Speechley

  They followed the nurse into the emergency room and were ushered behind a curtain. Elizabeth’s eyes were barely open on her stark white face, her body sunken and frail in a lightweight gown. Kate placed her hand next to her mother’s. Elizabeth’s fingertips touched hers.

  A doctor spoke to them and pointed to a lightbox on the wall opposite the bed, showing the shadows on Elizabeth’s lungs, partially filled with fluid.

  ‘She’s had pneumonia before, when she was ten,’ Kate told him.

  ‘We’ll need to keep her in for a few days. As soon as we’ve got her temperature under control, we’ll let you know.’ The nurse showed them back into the waiting room.

  Kate sat down and covered her face in her hands. ‘This is my fault; I must have upset her so much.’

  ‘Stop it, Kate,’ James said gently, crouching in front of her. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. ‘You said you don’t remember taking this purse, and you didn’t know what it meant to her.’

  ‘I had no idea. I wish she’d told me about her mother. How could I have known how important it was when she hasn’t told me anything?’

  ‘So, stop blaming yourself.’ He kissed her forehead and held her in his arms.

  * * *

  It was gone midnight when the nurse came back to tell them that Elizabeth’s condition had stabilised, and they could come back in the morning.

  James walked Kate back to her car.

  ‘Are you okay to drive?’ He touched her arm.

  She nodded. ‘Thanks for coming.’ He was always there when she needed him. When she reconnected with Mum and Dad, he was so good to them, they loved him straight away. And when Dad died, he was the one who helped them make the arrangements for Dad’s funeral.

  ‘I’ll follow you back.’

  ‘Don’t you have a cat expecting you?’

  ‘I think the cat can wait,’ he said. ‘I want to make sure you get home safely.’ He hugged her and she nestled in the warmth of his soft wool jumper.

  ‘I’m going to see if the cleaner will go to Mum’s over the weekend. You should have seen the state of the place. Anyone would think we hadn’t seen her for a week. She can’t come home to it like that.’ She shut her eyes, but the image of her frail mother wouldn’t shift from her mind. Why did she think nurses were trying to hurt her, and who was the man she was talking about?

  * * *

  A cold wind whistled round the corner of the house, making the leylandii wave its languorous welcome. James wheeled the recycle bin up from the pavement to its place by the side gate. Kate checked her phone then unlocked the front door. She’d not had any more malicious messages in the last few hours and the silence was unnerving. Maybe now was the time to trust James and tell him about Paul, explain everything that had happened? Was it possible he’d understand? But if he didn’t, if he found it impossible to forgive her, their lives together would surely be over, and she’d be left bringing up this baby on her own. He might even take the baby away and have it adopted. She glanced over her shoulder. Keeping him here tonight had been too much to hope for. James was already walking back to his car, one hand raised in goodbye.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kate came home from work early on Monday so she could go to the hospital to see her mum. She was sitting at the kitchen table finishing an event plan on her laptop when the doorbell buzzed. The long insistent noise sent a bolt through her body. Her head tilted up like an automaton. Before she’d even risen from her seat, the rasping buzz sounded again. She wasn’t expecting a delivery and it was too late for the post. A darker reason skidded across her mind. It couldn’t be, could it? All this way? She rose and crept to the front door, spying in the hole only to see the back of a man’s head. Her car parked on the drive would have given her away instantly. Could she pretend to be asleep? Out for a jog? She wished she had a dog who would bark incessantly so he’d think no one was home.

  She peered in the spyhole again. It was him. Had he been watching the house? He could have seen her come in; knew she was on her own. He blinked back, making her jump, his all-seeing eye distorted in a tiny sphere. He continued to stare as though he could see the worst things about her deep in her soul; he knew everything. Her pulse pounded in her ears. James could have been here. What would she have done then? Why hadn’t she paid him off when he’d given her the chance?

  He pressed the buzzer again. Then it stopped. Would he go away? No doubt he’d return and then it could be when James was back. A thump rattled the front door giving her a start. He called out her name. She’d keep her hand on her mobile in her pocket, just in case. Taking in a shallow breath, she slid the chain across and opened the door an inch.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed, wondering how strong the metal links were that separated them.

  ‘Let me in.’ His flat tone demanded no answer.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Come on, Kate, you know what it’s about.’ He pushed the door until the chain was taut. Any harder and it would snap.

  ‘I’ve not had a chance to sort out any more money.’

  ‘You’ve had plenty of time.’

  A woman walking her dog across the street glanced over at them. Kate rose on her tiptoes and thought about calling out to her. But there was no way out of this. He knew too much. She unhooked the chain.

  Paul shoved the door open and shouldered past her. Kate let out a silent trail of breath. Her lungs seemed to have stopped working. Thank God James was at Mac’s.

  ‘Stick the kettle on, I’m parched. You remember how I take my tea, don’t you? Two sugars and a splash of milk.’ He filled most of the kitchen doorway.

  Silently, Kate followed him in. The musky scent of him filled the air. He sat on her chair, peering at her laptop. She slammed the lid down and shifted it out of his reach onto the counter behind her.

  ‘Nice gaff. You’ve done all right for yourself.’

  Kate knew better than to take it as a compliment. The quicker she could get this over with, the better.

  ‘I could get comfortable here.’ He grinned and put his feet up on the table. His football-style trainers, laced down one side, looked brand new.

  ‘Aren’t you working?’ she asked.

  ‘I am as a matter of fact. Run my own gardening business in Sandown. Plenty of work from all the retired people. You should send your mum down.’

  ‘She’s in hospital.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry to hear that.’

  Heat flushed over her. He had a bloody cheek coming here after everything he’d been putting her through.

  ‘Didn’t you get my note?’

  ‘Yes, and the photo of us on the beach, the single rose with the nasty message.’ She crossed her arms. It was still under the fridge.

  He laughed. ‘Hang on, I didn’t send you any flowers. Must be from your secret lover.’

  ‘Very funny.’ Of course he would deny it. But it couldn’t be anyone else. ‘And what the hell were you doing daubing lipstick all over my windscreen?’

  ‘You what?’ He laughed, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Oh yeah, pretend you don’t know.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘How dare you call me a bitch,’ she shouted. ‘You’ve sunk pretty low to write something like that.’

  ‘I didn’t.’ He took his feet off the table.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ She pointed at him.

  ‘Funnily enough I don’t own any lipstick.’

  ‘Don’t mock me. I could go to the police.’

  ‘Why don’t you then if you’re so fucking sure it’s me?’

  ‘And you’ve been sending me malicious messages from a different phone. Think you’re clever disguising yourself, do you?’ She picked up her mobile, opened the message ‘I WISH YOU WERE DEAD’ and shoved it under his nose.

  ‘I don’t know that number. I don’t have another phone.’ He’d dropped the mocking expression and actually looked serious.

  ‘Call it.’


  She pressed the number half expecting it to ring in his pocket, but it didn’t. No one picked up, then it clicked off. No answerphone.

  ‘But you sent this one, didn’t you? “This is your final warning”. And it was at the same time as the writing on my car. It can’t be a coincidence, Paul. You’re not fooling me.’

  ‘That was about the money. What happened to your car has nothing to do with me, or the rose and the note.’

  She sat in the chair opposite him. He had no reason to deny it, did he? If he was out to scare her, he’d be happy to admit it. Be pleased that his efforts were upsetting her. Who could it be then? There was no one else.

  ‘What do you need so much money for anyway?’

  ‘It’s nothing compared to what you left me to deal with. I could ask for a whole lot more.’ He gave a cheeky smile. He still knew how to play her.

  ‘I told you I haven’t got any more money ready.’

  ‘You’ve kept me waiting so I’m afraid it’s gone up to thirty-five grand now.’

  ‘What? You can’t do that. I don’t have that sort of money just lying around.’

  ‘Can’t you sell a few designer handbags? What about your husband? He must have a bit tucked away.’

  ‘Leave him out of it. I’ll sort something out.’

  ‘Ha!’ He pointed at her. ‘Not told him, have you?’

  Kate didn’t want to answer when he already had so much against her.

  ‘Poor bloke doesn’t know what he’s got himself into, does he? Perhaps I should have a quiet word with him.’

  ‘I said I’d pay you.’

  ‘How long you been married?’

  ‘A long time.’

  ‘Good to you, is he? Could have been us. We were the perfect pair, remember? Everyone said so.’

  They had made a striking-looking couple in the early days when they were carefree twenty-year-olds. Her with long dark curls and short skirts and Paul with his George Michael designer stubble and permed hair.

  ‘I remember the first time you told me you loved me. Said you’d never love anyone else. What an idiot I was believing you.’

  She remembered too, but she wouldn’t admit it to him. They were in the Algarve on a beach in the warm early evening sun, noisy seagulls their only company except for a few late sunbathers. They’d walked backwards holding hands, the gentle waves lapping their ankles as they marvelled at their footprints washing away all evidence of them ever being there. Paul had pulled her to a halt, so their feet sank in the wet sand, then he’d kissed her and told her he loved her. She’d said it too and thought she meant every word. He’d been fearless, exciting, creative. They travelled round Europe in his camper van; made friends wherever they went; found work wherever they stopped. But it didn’t last. They soon ran out of money and had to sell the van, come home and get proper jobs.

  She tried not to look at him. Part of her loathed him but she hated that she was still drawn to him too, as though they belonged together and she’d simply been marking time for the last twenty-odd years, waiting for the moment they would be reunited.

  ‘Can’t deny how good you look, Kate,’ he said, rubbing his palms together.

  She stood at the sink turning her back to him and rinsed the mugs, hoping if she didn’t rise to the bait, he’d take the hint and leave. What would he say if he knew she was pregnant? He must never find out. She had to get him out of her life before she really started to show.

  ‘I bet he’s not enough for you, is he?’ Paul whispered behind her ear, smoothing his hands across her shoulders and down the sides of her breasts. Her back stiffened.

  ‘I remember what you like.’ He pressed himself against her and licked her neck.

  She caught her breath, body buzzing, sinking into a long-forgotten place her body remembered.

  ‘You know you want to,’ he murmured, his hands reaching under her T-shirt. She cursed herself and twisted round, trying to push him away, but he held her arm and kissed her lips, reaching between her legs with his fingers.

  ‘Get off me!’ She pulled away and shoved him hard, wiping her mouth on her arm.

  A satisfied grin swept across his face as he adjusted himself.

  ‘You need to go.’ She wished he hadn’t aged so well and wondered how her body could betray her so completely.

  ‘Empty-handed? I don’t think so.’ His frown deepened and his penetrating stare became menacing. Silly of her to forget how quickly he could turn.

  ‘I… I can give you ten, but that’s all I have, so don’t come back for more.’ She rummaged through the letter rack for her chequebook. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, but she had to get rid of him. What if James came home early? He must never know about any of it. And he wouldn’t need to. It was her money.

  Her hand trembled as she wrote the words: ‘ten thousand pounds’. As soon as she’d signed it, he snatched it from her fingers. A small price to pay to preserve her dignity and her life.

  Chapter Twenty

  On Saturday morning, after visiting Elizabeth in intensive care, Kate and James drove to her house. As Kate opened the front door, the same musty smell hit her. In the living room, she opened the curtains and as many downstairs windows as she could. James stripped the bed Elizabeth had made on the sofa and stuffed the sheets in the washing machine. On top of a stack of unopened post on the dining table were the two photos Kate had found before.

  ‘Is that really Elizabeth?’ James asked.

  ‘Hard to believe, isn’t it? I think this is where she went to school.’

  He took the other photo. ‘Look at the clock tower, it’s very upmarket. Were her parents well off?’

  ‘Not that I know of,’ Kate said.

  ‘This looks like a private school to me.’

  ‘Well I only went to the local comprehensive. I’d like to have had that choice.’

  ‘You said her parents died when she was very young, so perhaps they left money to pay for her education.’

  ‘That would make sense.’

  Kate answered the firm tap-tap on the front door.

  ‘Well, I say, this is a state, isn’t it?’ Mrs Connell said. ‘No wonder she wouldn’t let me in.’ She tut-tutted as she took off her puffa jacket, which looked more suitable for a teenager than a sixty-year-old woman.

  Kate led her past the living room and into the kitchen. Mrs Connell shook her head as she looked in.

  ‘As I said on the phone, Mrs Connell, my mother is very ill, which is why she was acting so strangely when you last came here. And why she hasn’t been able to—’

  ‘I get you,’ Mrs Connell said and waved her hand next to her head as if wafting away a fly. She put on an apron and rubber gloves from her bulging shopping bag.

  James carried a tray of glasses, cups and bowls he’d collected and brought them into the kitchen.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Connell,’ he said, sliding the tray next to the sink.

  She looked up from the dishwasher and tutted again.

  ‘Do you want me to bring the clothes in from the line?’ he asked Kate.

  ‘Yes, please. They’ll need rinsing through again. They must have been out there for a couple of days by the look of it.’

  He followed her back into the living room and pushed the door until it was almost shut.

  ‘She’s a happy camper, isn’t she?’ whispered James.

  Kate nodded. ‘Ssh, she’ll hear us.’

  ‘These can go in recycle, can’t they?’ He picked up a pile of newspapers from the coffee table next to the sofa.

  ‘Hang on, I’m not sure,’ she said, more serious. She picked up the one on top. ‘They’re old – why would she have kept them?’

  ‘For the crossword puzzles?’

  ‘No, I mean they’re really old, look at this one – 1955. It looks like she was reading them before she went to sleep.’

  ‘I’m coming in to dust,’ Mrs Connell called, not waiting before she barged in.

  ‘No problem, Mrs Connell, we’ll get out
of your way.’

  ‘Are we keeping them?’ James asked.

  ‘Mum must have kept them for a reason. Could you take them out to the car, please? I’d like to have a closer look.’ Kate trudged upstairs to collect a few essentials for Elizabeth. The bed was made but there were papers strewn across it. Had her mother even gone to bed after their row? She picked up a fanned-out pile of bank statements. In each month over the last few years, the sum of £350 had been circled in red. Why wouldn’t Dad have told Mum about this? A prickle of unease crept through her. She folded one up, slipped it in her pocket and tidied the rest away in a drawer.

  She opened the wardrobe and took out a dress for Elizabeth to come home in, whenever that might be. She gathered a couple of nighties, underwear and toiletries and laid them on the bed. From Elizabeth’s bedside drawer she took a tube of hand cream, a copy of The French Lieutenant’s Woman and the latest issue of The Lady magazine. From the bottom of the wardrobe, she dragged out an old leather case her mother used for weekends away. She emptied the contents of old shoes and handbags and packed in Elizabeth’s belongings.

  Her thoughts turned to the silk purse. After causing such upset, she was ashamed she couldn’t remember looking at it before. If she had stolen it as a child, it must have been because it fascinated her.

  Her eyes were drawn to the black strongbox tucked under the bed. It must be in there, under lock and key. She had a strong urge to look at it properly. She glanced at the door as if her mother might appear. James’s voice drifted up from the living room followed by the dulcet tones of Mrs Connell. Silently, she opened the jewellery box and felt inside the front edge of the bottom tier for the key. Her fingertips couldn’t find it. She peered inside, but it wasn’t there. Her mother must have hidden it.

  ‘When I’m done down here, do you want me to carry on up?’ Mrs Connell called from halfway up the stairs.

  Kate came out of the bedroom carrying the case. ‘Yes, please, when you’re ready. It’s not so bad up here, just needs a quick going over.’

  * * *