‘I’m so sorry I didn’t know about you. I can’t get over that Ray kept it from me. He could be terribly old-fashioned. I know he would have been trying to protect me; given what happened to me he wouldn’t have wanted me to know that my own daughter abandoned her baby. But I’d rather have known. We’ve missed out on so much of each other, haven’t we?’
Frankie nodded and held Elizabeth’s hand.
‘I can’t say I was the easiest person to live with. His damn mother was determined to make a housewife of me. Died young, at fifty-one. No age now, is it? Dropped dead on her kitchen floor while her best mutton stew was still bubbling on the stove. We ate it anyway, after they carted her away. She couldn’t abide waste.’
‘Granny!’ Frankie laughed.
‘Ray was cut up, of course. He had a brother, Stan, who never married. I often wonder what became of him. Three years older than Ray, owned a fishmonger. Lord, the smell would linger for hours when he came over straight from work. I could never tell if he was really looking at me with that glass eye of his. And I wonder now if he was gay. We never saw him with a lady. Shame he had to hide it. Lovely, cheerful man. Seems I was never destined to be an aunty.’
‘Cup of tea?’ Matt asked.
He’d been waiting to speak. Probably thought she was a crazy old goat for rambling on. Bless him. Kind sparkling eyes. So young and bursting with love and life the pair of them.
‘That would be grand, thank you, Matthew. I didn’t mean to go on.’
‘Don’t be silly, Granny, we love hearing your stories.’
‘Never told anyone half these things. You being here has set something off inside me, and now there’s no stopping me.’
‘Oh no, Granny, don’t cry.’ Frankie clasped her hands round Elizabeth’s.
‘It’s just so lovely that you’re here,’ Elizabeth dabbed her eyes with her hankie, ‘and now with the baby coming, the family feels complete. But what’s happened to Kate today is a dreadful, evil thing.’
‘I didn’t really know what to do. I just thought, whatever it is needs washing off.’
‘I’m sure it was the best thing to do.’
There was a moment’s silence before any of them spoke. Frankie kept checking her phone for word from James. Elizabeth dared not think what the outcome could be. It was too awful to contemplate.
‘There’s a little bit more I found out about your mum, Granny.’
‘Really?’ Elizabeth blinked at her.
‘She was eighteen when she became pregnant, and your dad was a seventeen-year-old farm hand called Bert. She was sent away to an unmarried mothers’ home in Salisbury. There was no other choice because her mother, your grandmother, had died so there wasn’t anyone to look after her. Her dad was busy running the farm with her older brothers. It was someone at the mothers’ home that suggested The Foundling Hospital.’
Elizabeth couldn’t find any words. She was having the most extraordinary day. It was all so astonishing. And this young girl, this beautiful granddaughter of hers who until recently she hadn’t known existed, here she was finding out so much about her. Things she’d agonised over all her life.
‘It was still frowned upon to be single and pregnant even when I had Kate.’
‘Is that why you married Ray, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Frankie fixed her eyes on her.
‘I loved Ray, still do. I didn’t know I was pregnant when we started courting. He and John were friends once, but they fell out.’
‘Oh, were they? And Kate told me her real father died in a car crash.’
‘That’s right.’ Elizabeth brushed imaginary crumbs from her lap.
‘Are you absolutely certain about that?’
‘Well I didn’t see the body if that’s what you mean. It’s only what I heard.’ Elizabeth pursed her lips.
‘What was his surname?’
‘Stokes, why? Are you trying to find out where he was buried?’ She drew her eyes away from Frankie’s penetrating stare. John would have made a dreadful father. Might as well have stabbed her in the heart, running off with that floozy. Good thing Ray sorted him out.
Frankie’s phone beeped. She scrambled to pick it up and almost knocked it onto the grass.
Matt brought tea and cake on a tray. ‘No news yet?’
Frankie checked her phone. ‘Nothing. I hope everything’s all right. Do you think I should call?’
‘They may not be able to answer anyway if your mum is still in labour or being treated. And they’ll need a bit of time on their own once the baby’s born.’
Elizabeth scooped two sugars into her tea and stirred, eyeing up Frankie, wondering if she was going to complain about her calling Kate her mum. Well she was, and that was that. A blackbird landed on a branch of the blossom tree, scattering a flurry of petals on the ground.
Frankie cut three pieces of honey cake. ‘We bought this in London. Will you try some?’
‘Just a small slice, thank you.’
Frankie passed them each a piece and moved her chair a bit closer to Elizabeth, dabbing up the crumbs with her finger.
‘Didn’t you ever want to come looking for Kate?’ Elizabeth asked.
Frankie sat back. ‘I thought about it a few times, but Dad wasn’t all that kind about her, and he said that if you turn over stones you have to take responsibility for what you find underneath. So I always thought it was probably better not knowing. I’d managed without her. Why should I make the effort when it was her that left me and never came back? Why put myself through rejection again? Dad said it was up to her to get in touch.’
‘But he did make the first move, blackmailing Ray, then going after Kate for money.’
‘I didn’t know about that at the time. I guess he was more desperate financially than he let on, but he did want to help us pay for our wedding too.’
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. ‘I wish Paul had told me about you. But at least we’re all together now.’
Frankie’s mobile beeped. She picked it up. ‘It’s James.’ Her face dropped as she read the screen.
‘Kate’s fine; it wasn’t acid, thank God, it was hot water, so the cold-water shower really helped.’ She swallowed, pressing her fingers under her nose. ‘He says, “Our baby boy was born at 6.28 p.m. Both are well. Will call as soon as I can, J.x.” Oh my goodness,’ Frankie cried and gave Elizabeth a warm hug.
‘That’s wonderful.’ Elizabeth fanned her face, the relief palpable from all of them. They clinked their glasses. She’d never felt so relieved and elated.
Chapter Forty-Six
Kate had been determined to try breastfeeding. The nursery nurse was so kind and patient showing her how to help the baby latch on. After all her worrying and doubts about whether she could do it, it wasn’t so bad.
‘Because he’s a month early, they want to keep you in for a couple of days to make sure he’s feeding well,’ the nurse said. ‘He’s looking a bit jaundiced, so I’ll come and do a blood test for you in a little while.’ She tucked Kate’s notes into the folder at the end of the bed. ‘Isn’t he a sweetheart? Does he have a name yet?’
‘We’re calling him Edward, after his great uncle.’ Kate held him closer and smelled his fresh skin. His eyes were shut, and his miniature hands were curled together under his chin. She’d forgotten how delicate a newborn’s fingers and nails were. He couldn’t have been more perfect.
‘Lovely name. I have a brother called Teddy.’
James strolled up with a cup of tea, beaming at the nurse.
‘I’ll be back later to change your dressings.’ She smiled as she left.
‘Is your face feeling any better?’ he asked.
‘A little bit; the cream they put on has helped. Did you call everyone?’
‘Yes, but I had a missed call from the police, so I called them back. Bella has been charged with ABH and harassment. They found a box of empty thermos flasks in the boot of her car. All eight had been used to carry the hot water.’
‘Can you imagine if it ha
d been acid?’ Kate shuddered.
‘I don’t even want to think about it. I’m so glad she can’t hurt you any more.’
‘So am I. Do they know why she waited so long before attacking me again?’
‘They think she was waiting until you were almost due to give birth.’
They held hands and gazed at Edward.
‘I spoke to Harry. They’re coming up tomorrow afternoon. He says he’s taking me out to wet the baby’s head.’
‘I bet he’s still in shock that you’re a daddy at last.’ Kate laughed, wondering what Susie would have to say to her about Isabella.
‘So am I! Now he’ll have to put up with me droning on about the colour of nappies.’
‘Did you call Mum?’
‘I spoke to all of them together. They’re going to visit tomorrow morning, if you’re up to early visitors? Your mum wanted to know what we’re calling him.’ He took his son in his arms. James looked the most contented she’d ever seen him.
‘You didn’t say?’
‘Of course not,’ he kissed the baby’s nose, ‘it’s your surprise.’
Kate pictured her mum’s face when she told her. For once in her life she was confident she’d made a good decision, something her mum might approve of. She reached for his hand. ‘I want this to be a new start for all of us.’
‘It will be. It is.’ He laughed and kissed her forehead.
‘I’ve been thinking about everything and I’ve decided I want to spend more time with Mum.’
‘Hey, stop fretting.’
‘We’re all she has now.’
‘It will be fine. She has two grandchildren.’
‘We must keep in touch with Frankie and Matt too. They’re part of the family now. And it would be lovely to meet Ben. He’s little Edward’s uncle.’
‘We’ve got the wedding to look forward to and we can have Edward’s christening before that, to get everyone together.’ He kissed the baby’s downy head and laid him in Kate’s arms.
‘No more secrets, no more lies.’
James smoothed her frown away with his fingertips, then wrapped his arms round her and the baby.
Kate settled Edward at her breast. The nursery nurse recommended skin to skin contact whenever possible. His inquisitive dark eyes resembled her mum’s and she could see James’s nose and chin in the tiny features. She felt an enormous sense of achievement at being able to feed her own baby. Such a different experience to when she’d had Frankie and was too exhausted to even try. She felt so much calmer and in control. How amazing to think that her two children would come to know one another. Just a year ago none of this would have seemed possible. She couldn’t wait for her family to meet him in the morning. And most of all, she couldn’t wait to tell her mother his name.
A letter from Ruby
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading A Mother Like You. If you’ve enjoyed it, I’d be delighted if you could leave a short review on Amazon, Kobo or Goodreads. It really makes a huge difference!
I’ve always been interested in cycles of behaviour, in particular how trauma is carried across generations. I wanted to explore this in a novel about abandonment. I was fascinated to learn about The Foundling Hospital, a safe place for women to leave their babies if they weren’t able to bring them up themselves. As you may know from my first novel, giving away a baby for whatever reason is something I’m a little obsessed with, because for me it would be the hardest decision to have to make. Watching programmes like Long Lost Family with stories of modern-day foundlings is utterly heartbreaking. I always want to write about subjects that terrify me and having no choice but to give up a child is one of them.
I visited The Foundling Museum in London with my dad to find out more. It is the original Foundling Hospital site and is packed full of history – I highly recommend a visit. I was shocked to discover that the last foundling hospital in Berkhamsted, Hertfordshire was still in operation until the 1950s. I listened over and over to many personal accounts at the Museum and on the website: men and women who were brought up not knowing who their mum or dad were, where they’d come from or why they’d been abandoned. Mothers would leave a small token so that if they were able to come back and reclaim their child, they could identify them. But that rarely happened. I’ve taken the liberty of bringing this historical tradition forward to my modern-day story.
Although without doubt The Foundling Hospital was well meaning and saved the lives of many babies, the lack of love and affection shown to these children struck me hard. After I wrote my first draft, I felt brave enough to enquire about interviewing one of the last foundlings. It was a privilege to meet Guy Chesham and listen to his experiences of life as a little foundling boy. He was similar in some ways to my character Elizabeth – how she found it impossible to show affection to her own daughter but easier once she had a granddaughter. Other details about my characters’ experiences are fictionalised and not directly Guy’s experiences. Meeting a real foundling gave me a sense of how such a harsh upbringing affected him, and how that impacted the rest of his life.
To find out more about the history of The Foundling Hospital, do take a look at The Foundling Museum website: foundlingmuseum.org.uk
Warmest regards,
Ruby x
Website: Rubyspeechley.com
Twitter: @rubyspeechley
Facebook: Ruby Speechley Author
Instagram: @rubyjtspeechley
Acknowledgements
It takes many skilled people behind the scenes to bring a book together for readers to enjoy.
Heartfelt thanks to my incredible agent, Jo Bell, and the whole team at Bell Lomax Moreton. I am incredibly indebted to the wonderful Keshini Naidoo and Lindsey Mooney at Hera Books for publishing this novel and to Keshini for her forensic editing skills, gently bringing out the best in me and my manuscript. Thank you to my excellent copy editor, proof-reader, and cover designer. Any errors in this novel are wholly my own.
There are many friends online and in real life who have supported me through my writing ups and downs, including Olimpia Silvestre, Aileen Davis, Glenys Escott, Kerri Speechley, Rose McGinty, Lucille Grant, Isabel Costello, Jeanet McKenzie, Charlotte Anderson, Debra Brown, Debi Alper, Alva Holland, Jane Elms, Susan Elliot Wright, Jude Brown, Dave Sivers, Anne Coates, Caroline Priestly and Philippa Ronan, to name just a few. Thank you all. Special thanks to Jill Dawson, who guided me through the first draft of this novel via the Gold Dust mentoring scheme.
Thanks too for your early editorial feedback: Margaret James and Cathie Hartigan at the Exeter Novel prize, Sara Sarre at Blue Pencil Agency, Sheila McIlwraith at The Literary Consultancy and Amanda Saint at Retreat West. My writing group at Faber Academy gave me their support and wise comments over our many months together, thank you – Emma Goode, Kate Poll, Emma Cook, Laura Church, Phil Cavanagh, Nicola Bye, Mia Roberts, Clare Cowburn Baker, Cleo Harrington, Isaac Jay, Louise Macqueron, and of course our incredible tutor, Richard Skinner.
None of this would have been possible without the kind help of Alison Duke at The Foundling Museum in London. The museum website foundlingmuseum.org.uk has been an invaluable resource, in particular the moving personal memories of former foundlings told through the ‘Foundling Voices’ oral history project: foundlingvoices.foundlingmuseum.org.uk
I found the following books useful for research and would recommend them: A memoir – The Last Foundling by Tom H. MacKenzie and London’s Forgotten Children – Thomas Coram and The Foundling Hospital by Gillian Pugh.
Thank you as always to my husband and children and to my dear parents for igniting a life-long curiosity in me, which means I am never bored! Thanks to my dad for taking me to The Foundling Museum with his usual gusto and thanks to my mum for being my biggest fan.
Finally, thank you to former foundling John Caldicott for putting me in touch with fellow foundling, Guy Chesham, who generously shared with me his personal story of growing up in The Foundling Hospital. I am full of admi
ration for him – the original child number 23.
First published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Hera
Hera Books
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London, E5 8NS
United Kingdom
Copyright © Ruby Speechley, 2020
The moral right of Ruby Speechley to be identified as the creator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781912973514
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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