by Chris Curran
Dear Eve Ballantyne
Too formal. At that stage he almost gave up. If he couldn’t get that right, what was the point?
Dear Eve,
I hope you don’t mind me contacting you, but I gather you are anxious to find out all you can about your poor mother, Stella, although I doubt anything I say will be particularly helpful.
As you know I am wheelchair bound and have been for many years.
God how he hated writing that. Still if it made it harder for her to suspect him of anything untoward, and encouraged her to leave the helpless invalid alone, it was worth it. Your poor mother was a good touch, he thought. Before going in for the kill as it were!
Unfortunately (for you although not for me!) I have a blank in my memory from a few hours before the accident until I woke up in hospital a day later. However my wife tells me I was able to talk to her before lapsing into unconsciousness and to tell her that Stella caused my accident. She actually saw Stella not far from the house and my son confirms that she visited that evening.
(He had originally put and I have no reason to doubt them but deleted that. Best to be definite and allow no room for alternative interpretations.)
Pamela was in a state of shock immediately afterwards, as you can imagine, and very much focused on looking after me. So she said nothing about it until I regained consciousness. When she told me I begged her to keep silent. I could see no benefit in ruining Stella’s life as well as my own.
(He was pleased with that bit.)
Although, I will admit that I was not the most faithful husband in my youth,
(David, bloody, Ballantyne would have told her that already no doubt.)
and I can understand why I might be a suspect, I have to tell you that I am categorically not your father.
He originally started the next sentence: As you probably know I was friendly with Stella’s friend, Maggie. But he deleted that. If the waters needed muddying a bit more in future he could always mention Maggie, but best to keep to the point at this stage. Instead he wrote:
My relationship with Stella was totally professional. My memory of that whole period is hazy so have no idea why she came to my home, but I assume it was to persuade me to feature more of her work at the gallery. She was possibly upset by my refusal.
Pamela would be furious if she found out what he’d done. She didn’t believe in committing things like this to writing. Face to face was always the best way according to her. It was more powerful and you could deny everything if need be. That could be Pamela’s motto.
Deny everything.
Stella
Living in David and Jill’s house reminded Stella of when she used to peer into other people’s windows in Newcastle. Her nana’s terraced cottage was clean and quiet and, unlike the flat she had lived in with her mam, there was nothing to frighten her. No strange men or haggard women came calling. But when she was older she saw how poor her grandmother was, how worn and tired the furniture and carpets were, and she used to dream of moving into one of the spacious villas in Jesmond: the better part of town.
The Ballantynes’ house wasn’t grand and intimidating like Ben’s place, but was so pretty and comfortable that it was difficult to imagine anyone being unhappy there. Although, of course, she was unhappy.
It wasn’t their fault. They couldn’t have been kinder. They had a car, but they both liked walking, and if David went up to London Jill drove him to the station. Mostly the car sat in the garage, but Jill took some time off work to drive Stella to her first antenatal appointment at the hospital.
‘Do you have a licence?’ she asked as Stella sat dumb beside her. She nodded. Nana had a little old rust bucket and had taught her to drive. She passed her test first time at seventeen. ‘Well I’ll get you put on the insurance and you can come on your own in future. Take the car if you want to go into town anytime too.’
Jill worked at the local library and brought back books she thought might interest Stella. David was busy either in London winding up the gallery or setting up his new place in Hastings, so Stella often had the house and garden to herself. When she said she should give them some rent or at least pay for her food they wouldn’t hear of it. David told her, ‘You can pay us back with a picture if it will make you feel better.’
But she still couldn’t paint and wandering around the house during the day all she could think of was what a wonderful place this would be for a child to grow up in. What perfect parents David and Jill would make.
And more and more, as her bump grew, she couldn’t help noticing a hungry expression coming into Jill’s eyes when she looked at her.
After a hospital visit one day she took the car into town and walked about for a while. Sat on a bench overlooking the sea. It was too cold to stay long, so she drove back slowly, thinking hard. Although Jill had never put it into words it was obvious she wished Stella would let them adopt her baby. And the more she thought about it, the more it began to make sense. There was nothing she could give her child that could compare with what they offered. They were the kind of parents she had dreamed of having herself.
When she arrived back she parked the car carefully in the garage. There was a door from it that opened into the kitchen and she heard voices. It must be later than she’d thought and Jill was already home from work. But it wasn’t David in there with her.
She froze. The voice coming from the kitchen belonged to Pamela Houghton.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Eve
Ben Houghton’s email was no help: even if he was her father she guessed he would never admit to it and, if he didn’t remember the night of the accident, she was no closer to the truth about that. She took her phone into the kitchen and showed her mum the message. She still had a feeling Jill wasn’t being honest with her and, if nothing else, Ben’s words might help to get her talking.
‘What do you think? I mean you and Dad seem convinced that Ben couldn’t be my father, but Simon actually heard Stella tell him she was pregnant. Why would she do that if he wasn’t?’
Jill tapped the screen with one finger. ‘All I can say is that Stella gave us to understand that the father was a boyfriend who was no longer around. So that would fit this chap James you’ve discovered and he admits they had a relationship at the right time.’
‘She could also have been talking about Ben, if he rejected her.’
‘No, no, she said it wasn’t him.’ Her mum’s voice wavered, as if she realized she’d made a mistake. Eve’s breath caught. This was something new. Jumping up, Jill took her half-full mug over to the sink, turning on the tap so that water gushed out very loud.
Eve waited a moment then spoke quietly, trying to sound matter-of-fact. ‘You never told me she actually talked to you about Ben.’
Her mother picked up a tea towel and looked at it. ‘This needs a wash.’
Eve slapped the table. ‘Mum, tell me. Did you actually ask Stella if Ben was my father?’
Jill, still beside the sink, was rubbing the cloth over and over the mug. ‘Yes, I did and she was very definite that he wasn’t.’ When Eve said nothing her mum came over to the table and leaned with both hands on the back of a chair. ‘I’m sure she was telling me the truth.’
Eve’s jaw was clenched so tightly it began to hurt. She took an enormous breath. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me this right at the start?’
Jill pulled out the chair and sat, arms pressed across her chest, not looking at her. ‘I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you getting into all that. And there was no reason you should suspect him.’
She couldn’t hold back a snort of anger. ‘But you obviously did at some point. Why was that?’
She felt like a little girl again. Begging her mum to take away the thing that was hurting her. But, head down, her mouth a twisted thread of pale pink, it was Jill who looked like a child, a guilty child. When she spoke it was so soft and fast Eve had to lean closer.
‘Pamela came to see me and it was obvious she suspected that Ben
and Stella had been having an affair. So I asked Stella.’
‘And you believed her when she denied it?’
Jill nodded. ‘Absolutely.’
‘I wonder what Pamela thought when she heard you’d adopted me?’ Jill shook her head. Eve swallowed. She needed so much to know this. ‘Why did Stella agree to let you adopt me?’
Jill sipped her coffee and said, ‘I’ve told you already. She thought you would be better off with us.’
‘And she had no qualms about leaving me?’
‘Of course she did. And if she’d changed her mind—’ She stopped short. Her hand went to her mouth.
‘How could she change her mind if you’d adopted me?’
It came too quickly. ‘Well we had to foster you first. It doesn’t happen overnight, you know. You have to be thoroughly checked out.’
‘But surely once she’d signed the adoption papers?’
Her mother pulled at the sleeve of her cardigan.
Eve’s words were almost a gasp. ‘She never signed the papers, did she?’
Jill swayed and held on to the edge of the table.
‘Mum?’ Her voice sounded harsh, and she saw her mother wince, but she couldn’t stop now. ‘Tell me, Mum.’
‘She let us foster you and went to Italy. She couldn’t come back to complete the adoption formalities, because she died.’ When her mother touched her hand Eve pulled it away. ‘You had no one else and we’d looked after you since you were born. The case worker agreed we were ideal parents. So they let it go through anyway.’
A loud cry from Ivy upstairs that made them both jump. Eve stopped at the door when her mother said, ‘Please, Eve, darling. Tell me you’re all right. We’re all right, aren’t we?’
She could only manage to shake her head. ‘I don’t know.’ Then she ran upstairs. If she’d stayed she would have said the words that were pounding through her head: It was very convenient for you and Dad, wasn’t it? The fact that Stella never had the chance to change her mind.
Stella
One afternoon Stella was sitting by the window in her room trying to sketch. It wasn’t much good. Footsteps on the stair and a tap at her door and Jill came in holding out an envelope. ‘A letter was forwarded from your old flat.’
Stella took it. An Italian stamp and Maggie’s flamboyant handwriting. She wanted to rip it open, but made herself drop it onto her lap. Jill sat on the bed.
‘It was with a pile of our stuff. Bills mostly, of course.’ She didn’t look as if she was going anywhere.
‘It must be from my friend, Maggie. She’s the only person I know in Europe.’
Jill nodded and when Stella said nothing more she hovered by the door for a moment, then said, ‘Well, I’ll leave you in peace.’
Once she’d gone Stella held the letter to her lips almost afraid to read it.
Darling Stella,
I’m really sorry for the way I treated you. I’m a total bitch and I would understand if you never wanted to speak to me again. Last time I was in London I should have come to see you, but I was still in one of my stupid rages. You know I was really pleased and proud about your success at Houghton’s, but that bastard Ben had built up my hopes about the catalogue. It was childish and spiteful of me to take it out on you.
Anyway apology over. I heard about you and the baby and the mutterings that it might be Ben’s, but I know that isn’t true. Whatever happened between you I have the feeling you are more sensible than me and I’m guessing it’s the dishy dark guy you palled up with.
I tried to see Ben when he was in hospital, but that bitch Pamela was standing guard over him.
What I’m really writing for is to tell you I’m staying in Milan and hoping to buy a little place on the Italian Riviera. The one I have my eye on looks gorgeous in the photos and there’s a tiny studio in the garden. So when I move do come and stay – the longer the better – I’m dying to see you again.
Please, please, please forgive me, darling Stella! And please come.
Love and kisses. Maggie XXXXX
After that she couldn’t go back to drawing. Maggie could be temperamental and she would have to make sure she got painting quickly so that she had something to sell if she suddenly needed money, but it might just work.
Jill called up asking if she wanted some tea and, despite her bulk, which always surprised her when she tried to move or bend, she ran down the stairs. As usual Jill was opening a cake tin.
‘Haven’t had time to bake this week, but these ginger biscuits should still be all right.’
She started getting things out to make dinner then came and sat at the table, breaking a biscuit in half, but not eating it. The silence turned awkward and Stella guessed she was wondering about the letter.
‘My friend is buying a place on the Italian Riviera. She’s invited me out there.’
Jill said, ‘How lovely.’ Then she coughed and sipped some tea. ‘Stella, it’s none of my business, but Pamela Houghton came by the other day. I don’t know if you saw her.’
Stella picked up a spoon and stirred her tea, although she didn’t take sugar so there was no need. ‘Yes, I did.’
A deep sigh and Jill pulled at one of her silver earrings. ‘This is difficult, but she said …’ A little cough, ‘well she said your baby might be Ben’s.’ As if expecting Stella to speak she raised one hand. ‘Please don’t be upset. I’m not trying to interfere, just to help if I can. I mean if you were thinking of making any claim on Ben …’
Stella was so surprised she almost laughed. She had been worried about Pamela’s visit, thinking she might have told Jill something about the accident, but not this. ‘I don’t have any claim at all on him and you can tell Mrs Houghton that I hardly know him.’
Jill moved her chair closer. It made a screeching noise on the tiles. ‘The only thing I’m concerned about is that you aren’t bothered about anything at a time like this.’
Sitting back in her chair again Stella tried to smile. ‘I’m sorry. You’ve been so kind to me.’ She took a deep breath. Why did she feel like such a child around Jill and David? ‘Pamela told you other things, I suppose?’
Jill nodded. ‘I know life hasn’t been easy for you.’
Maggie was the only person she had told about her mother and the rest of it. But Maggie, especially when she’d had a drink, could never keep her mouth under control. She shook her head. ‘I’ve been luckier than lots of people.’
Jill was so close now Stella could smell a warm scent, like vanilla, coming off her. She touched Stella’s shoulder very lightly. Her voice became husky. ‘If it’s too much for you. The baby, I mean.’ She gave a gentle smile. ‘David and I would be very happy to look after it. For as long as you like.’
Stella swallowed. So here it was. ‘Adopt it you mean?’
Jill stood quickly and walked over to the chopping board. ‘Or just take care of it for you until you’re settled.’ When she turned back her cheekbones were glowing red. ‘I know the original plan was for you to leave when the baby was born, but there’s really no need. You can stay here as long as you like. Or that flat above the gallery will be ready soon if you want independence with babysitters to hand.’
They didn’t speak again for a while. Jill sliced some onions, and Stella washed up, dried the mugs and plates and put them away.
Jill rinsed her hands, wiped her eyes and sniffed. ‘Those onions are very strong,’ she said. Then she took the tea towel from Stella and grasped her hands. ‘We know you want the best for your baby, and so do we. So just think about it. We’ll go along with whatever you decide.’
Stella nodded. There was nothing she could say.
Eve
Eve knew she had upset her mother when she left without saying a proper goodbye. But she was so stunned by what Jill had said she could do nothing but sit in the rocking chair trying to take it in. Of course the fact that her real mother had never got so far as actually signing the adoption papers meant nothing. She had left and gone to live in ano
ther country, so she clearly didn’t want her. But why hadn’t her parents told her all this?
Ivy was sleeping well in her cot, so eventually, Eve turned the baby monitor right up and forced herself to move. Although it was only mid-afternoon it was already getting dark outside and she began to feel very alone in the house. It helped to keep busy and she had some Christmas presents to wrap, so she brought them to the kitchen table.
But she was too on edge to make much of a job of it and when Ivy began to cry she was glad to stop. The feeding and changing routine was becoming easy now and it helped her relax. She sat in the warmth afterwards with the baby lying contentedly in her arms and a deep sense of peace flooded through her. Finally she was coping. Without Alex, without her mum, she was doing fine.
It was fully dark outside when the house phone rang from downstairs. Shortly afterwards her mobile vibrated from the kitchen. It would be Alex. Probably ringing from the train. Reluctantly, she put Ivy in her cot. Better check if he’d left a message.
As she stood she heard what she was sure were footsteps in the garden. She crept to the window, her hand resting on the cot as if that would keep Ivy safe.
Heart racing she stared down into the darkness outside. And froze. There was a shadow. Moving across the grass. Then still. Too tall to be an animal.
She wasn’t breathing. Didn’t dare move.
The shadow wavered. Still she held her breath. Eyes straining. Trying to make out details.
And then the shadow merged into the dark. And was gone.
She stood for so long that her eyes blurred, her legs began to ache and she was shivering with cold rather than fear.
A sound. Close to the front of the house. A glance at her watch. It could be Alex now.
Leaving the landing in darkness, and Ivy’s door closed so that the light from her little lamp didn’t show, she ran downstairs. No sign of Alex. She checked all the doors. They were locked and secure. Still in the dark she stared from the kitchen window. Nothing but the grey outline of the leafless tree.