by S. B. Hayes
‘Mother of Grace and Hope?’ I said aloud. ‘Who’s Hope?’
‘You are,’ Genevieve whispered.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
The cold had penetrated my entire body and I wriggled my toes to try to return some feeling to them. I was empty inside, as if all the life had been squeezed from me and all that was left was a shell. Genevieve was telling the truth. I was certain of that. I looked at the woman who had pretended to be my mother for sixteen years.
‘You … kidnapped me?’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ she whispered. ‘I only wanted to comfort you.’
‘How did you get away with it?’ I cried. ‘How could you just … keep me like that?’
‘No one suspected,’ she replied with surprising honesty. ‘I’d brought my own baby home from hospital, and a midwife had visited to check us over … why should anyone think I was involved?’
‘You were so respectable,’ Genevieve said contemptuously. ‘Unlike our mum, who was known to social services. She was a problem, a bad example, someone to be spied on and written about.’
‘And you took me far away,’ I added.
She closed her eyes. ‘I couldn’t have stayed.’
This had all the elements of a dream. I was stunned. ‘And what should I call you now?’
‘I’m still your—’
‘You’re not my mum,’ I cut in vehemently and noticed Genevieve’s smile. ‘I don’t think I could call you that again.’
She nodded with difficulty. ‘You’re right, I deserve that. Maybe … you could call me by my Christian name … Rebecca.’
I gazed at her in terrible confusion and tried to recognize something familiar, but in an instant she’d turned into a stranger. She cowered under my scrutiny as though my eyes threw out darts that pierced her flesh.
‘Please don’t look at me like that,’ she said at last. ‘I’m not what you think.’
‘And … what should I think?’
‘It was a moment of madness, completely out of character. I was distraught because of … and after finding Jessica like that, and afterwards … I was ashamed and frightened of what I’d done …’
She trailed off as I tried to make sense of her words. She’d convinced herself it was just one moment when she lost control, but I couldn’t forget the fact that she’d had sixteen years to make things right. But I also couldn’t ignore that she’d loved me for the same amount of time. I didn’t know what to feel any more and my head hurt – badly.
‘You only thought about yourself,’ Genevieve said in accusation.
Rebecca’s voice trembled. ‘No, that’s not true. I thought I could give one of you a good home but I never stopped regretting that you’d been split up. I’ve lived that nightmare every day … consumed with guilt …’
Genevieve scowled and tugged at my arm. We took shelter inside the arched recess of the church, where there were deep stone benches and an ancient flagstone floor. She sat next to me, and Rebecca remained standing, sipping from the flask. I touched her shoulder.
‘What really happened that day?’
She searched in her pocket for a tissue and it was a few moments before she could speak. ‘It was as I told you, except for one thing. I used the spare key to get into Jessica’s flat. I knew where it was hidden and thought she might be ill … the sound of crying was unbearable.’
I felt Genevieve stiffen beside me, but she didn’t interrupt.
‘Jessica was still warm, but her eyes were lifeless … so completely lifeless, and yet … they seemed to be pleading with me to do something. The pram was there, but there was only one infant. The other one must have been lying in the bed. I picked her up and told myself it was only to comfort her. Her nappy was soiled so I took her upstairs–’
‘Where was your own baby?’ Genevieve hissed. ‘Where was she?’
Rebecca leaned her head out of the recess to gaze at the falling snow. When she turned around her face was shiny and her hair plastered to her head. ‘My own dear Katy was cold and floppy,’ she managed to whisper. ‘When I fell asleep she was warm with milk, but … somehow … in the night … she just stopped breathing.’
It was hard to reconcile the fact that the Katy she was talking about wasn’t me. I’d lost my identity and felt as if I didn’t really exist any more. Even my birthday wasn’t on the day it had been celebrated for the last sixteen years.
‘Maybe it was a cot death,’ I suggested, compelled to make things easier for her.
Rebecca nodded and swallowed hard, her nose beginning to run. ‘I think so, and I hope it wasn’t anything I did or failed to do.’
‘No one will ever know the answer to that,’ Genevieve growled.
Her eyes misted over. ‘But I’ve never forgotten about my own dear Katy for a second. I carry the memory of her with me always.’
Now I understood where her grief came from – this woman who had stolen me to replace her own child had never managed to escape from this.
‘You thought it was OK to help yourself to someone else’s baby,’ Genevieve said bitterly.
‘I’ll have to answer for what I did,’ Rebecca replied with as much dignity as she could, and I wondered what she intended to do now. Give herself up to the police? But that wouldn’t make up for Genevieve’s lost childhood.
‘I was told by my adoptive parents that we were separated because I was wicked,’ Genevieve began fiercely. ‘And when I was older I discovered that everyone thought my mother had been … responsible for the death of my sister, my twin.’
Rebecca sniffed and Genevieve shot her a furious look before continuing.
‘And then I saw you, Katy, that day on the bus and I just knew who you were … It didn’t take long to work out what must have really happened.’
Rebecca broke down and turned her face away from us, leaning against the thick wooden doors of the church. Part of me wanted to go over and comfort her, but I couldn’t bring myself to.
‘You’re right to hate me,’ she sobbed. ‘What I did was utterly wrong and nothing justifies it … nothing at all. I’ll try to make it right.’
Genevieve got to her feet, her face contorted with anger. ‘Nothing you could do would ever make it right.’
I watched Rebecca bite her lips hard and squeeze them together as if she was scared what else she might say. I looked outside and felt a growing fear. The snowflakes were now as large as fifty-pence pieces and settling with incredible speed. Our footprints on the pathway were already covered.
‘We should go,’ I urged. ‘Get back to the car and decide what to do.’
Rebecca nodded in agreement and we both looked to Genevieve to show us the way. For a minute an amused expression appeared on her face and I wondered what she was thinking, but she pulled down her hat and adjusted her gloves before summoning us with one movement of her head. It took us twice as long to get back, and Genevieve must have had a good sense of direction because all the empty streets now looked the same. There were very few fresh footprints, which meant that people had heeded the advice to stay inside. By the time we reached the car we were all bedraggled and weary with red noses and pinched faces.
Rebecca sank into the driver’s seat.
‘We should listen to the radio,’ I said. ‘The motorway might be closed or something.’
Rebecca swept aside my concerns with a wave of her hand and I was again puzzled by her sudden bravado. It was already dusk, and since we’d set out another few centimetres of snow had fallen, yet she was prepared to battle against snow, black ice and poor visibility in a car that was fifteen years old. I had a horrible clenching pain in my stomach at the thought of the journey ahead. I wondered if Genevieve had it as well, but she had lapsed into silence, staring impassively out of the window.
‘Let’s find a B. & B. somewhere close,’ I suggested, but my voice came out weirdly shrill.
A hand reached into the back seat and patted my leg reassuringly. ‘I’ll take it slow all the way back and no
overtaking. It’ll be fine – trust me.’
I tried to sit back and relax, but the feeling of apprehension was growing by the minute. I couldn’t believe that Genevieve could stay so calm. The scene outside reminded me of a strange apocalyptic movie, with cars abandoned at strange angles and the town empty of inhabitants. None of the side roads had been gritted, and our car felt completely vulnerable. It was making a strange squeaky clunk, and every so often the tyres spun as they got caught in drifts or if we veered too close to the kerb.
‘The motorway will be clear,’ Rebecca announced brightly. The speedometer hadn’t moved above ten miles per hour and we were getting nowhere fast. I noticed a signpost for the local library and worried that we’d already passed it five minutes earlier.
‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ I said, but it was under my breath. My throat felt tight as if I was being slowly strangled. There was an inevitability about events that I didn’t understand.
‘I think this was the way we came in, girls. It should lead to the dual carriageway and then the motorway slip road.’
‘I don’t remember this bridge,’ I whispered as the car began to climb.
Rebecca’s laugh sounded forced. ‘Me neither, but we’ll see where it goes.’
Genevieve hadn’t moved or spoken since we set off, and I had an urge to scream and shake her out of this inertia. It was as if she’d completely shut down and withdrawn from us. I turned my attention back to the road. There was no escaping the knowledge that we were somewhere away from the town and getting deeper into the countryside. There were no street lights and it felt like driving into hell. Something was badly wrong. I knew this for certain but couldn’t do anything about it. Even when Rebecca finally admitted this had been a mistake, the feeling didn’t subside. She tried to turn the car around, but the road was narrow and the snow made it impossible. She rested her head on the wheel.
‘Maybe if you reverse?’ I suggested.
‘That’s not possible. We’ll have to keep going and try to reach a farm or house of some sort.’
She pressed the accelerator several times and the car rocked a little but refused to move. She rolled it backwards and forwards and the tyres made a horrible grinding sound. I was worried the car might shoot forward into a ditch, but it stayed in the one spot, diagonally blocking the road.
‘Girls … we’re stuck.’
I tried to focus. ‘We can stay in the car and wait until first light. You did bring food and blankets.’
Rebecca rubbed her chin and peered outside. ‘We can’t stay here. Without our headlights we’ll be a complete hazard.’
I remembered what Luke had told me when we staked out the vicarage. ‘We have to switch off the lights and heater or they’ll flatten the car battery … right?’
‘Right,’ she answered.
‘So … what can we do?’
‘We’ll dig ourselves out,’ she declared in a no-nonsense voice. ‘I brought a spade with us because they advised it on the radio. “For any essential journeys, take a torch, food, water, blankets, a phone and finally a spade.”’
We didn’t have to come here today, I wanted to point out, but I sensed that she had been unable to stop this from happening. She had denied Genevieve so much, she couldn’t refuse her this journey. I looked again at Genevieve. She appeared to be dozing, although I wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t faking it. Rebecca and I got out of the car together. She wouldn’t let me dig, but I held the powerful torch for her so she could see properly. The only sounds around were her laboured breath and my efforts to keep warm. There should have been so much to say but I think we were both beyond explanation.
‘Do you hate me?’ she asked eventually, and I saw her glance inside the car as if she didn’t want Genevieve to hear.
‘I don’t hate you,’ I answered straight away. Even in my confused state I had to tell her the truth that was clear in my mind. ‘I can’t excuse what you did, but I think I can … understand why.’
This seemed to be a relief to her and I saw tears glisten in her eyes. She carried on with renewed energy and then appeared satisfied. The snow was still light and soft and it had only taken about fifteen minutes. She opened up the boot and put the spade back inside, stamping the snow from her boots. The only other thing she said was, ‘One day … I hope you’ll be able to forgive me.’
She started the ignition again and moved slowly. She managed to get the car out of the hole, but once on the road it skidded dangerously.
‘We have to find a lay-by or somewhere to pull over,’ she said, and I could hear real fear in her voice.
Her hands were glued to the wheel trying to gain control, but the car had a life of its own. I knew it was hopeless, and she knew it too. There were only two options that I could think of – we could stop and dial the emergency services, but we had no idea of our location, or we could stay here and keep watch in case a snowplough or tractor managed to get through. I was just about to announce this when she cried. ‘I can see some kind of sign … there on the left.’
With difficulty she turned the car on to a dirt track and then pulled over into a clearing by some trees. The sign advertised a fishing lake, with opening times and prices per hour. Rebecca switched off the engine and I watched all the tension leave her body.
‘I’ll get the blankets and snacks in a moment. We’ll be safe here.’ She sighed. ‘At least until morning.’
CHAPTER
FORTY
I thought it must be a dream. There was a light somewhere in my consciousness, a hand shaking me and a voice whispering, ‘Katy? Will you come with me? I’m too scared on my own.’
‘Genevieve? What’s wrong?’ I hastily moved the torch away because it was shining in my eyes.
‘I need to wee,’ she laughed softly and pointed to the front of the car. I could see a sleeping figure, lying across the two seats, a blanket pulled up to her chin.
‘What time is it?’ I groaned.
‘About three.’
I opened the car door and staggered out, disorientated and stiff. My feet sank into knee-high virgin snow although the sky was now clear of any more flurries. The flask of coffee had taken effect and I twitched uncomfortably.
‘There’s something I have to give you,’ Genevieve whispered. She put one hand into her pocket and took something out. I didn’t realize what it was until she moved closer and I felt her hands caress my neck.
‘The pendant, Katy. You never wore it.’
I fingered the smooth stone and smiled nervously, knowing I couldn’t take it off in front of her. I tucked it inside my coat. ‘Choose a bush, Genevieve, and I’ll find another.’
I had this pathetic hang-up that meant I couldn’t wee unless there was no one else close by. I couldn’t bear to think about having to pull down my jeans and crouch in the snow, but there wasn’t any choice. Genevieve made a joke about wishing we were boys. We split up and it took me ages to find a spot and pluck up the courage to expose any flesh to the sub-zero temperatures. Genevieve had taken the torch and I couldn’t see her or any scrap of light. I knew which direction the car was, but I didn’t want to go back without her. I jumped as I heard rustling in the bushes and wondered if she was playing a joke on me.
‘Genevieve? Genevieve?’ I called into the dark.
I heard sounds but thought that my mind was playing tricks on me because they seemed so far away. I listened harder and there was definitely a voice floating through the trees.
‘Come and see this. Katy, it’s amazing. Katy, come and join me.’
Clumsily I moved forward, stopping every now and then to listen. Genevieve’s voice was like I’d never known it – full of awe and wonder. She sounded like a child. I remembered that day at the craft fair, where she tricked me into following her, but I stumbled on, taking a minute to wonder why, wherever she went, I was close behind.
‘Genevieve? I can’t see properly and I’m freezing.’
‘It’s not much further,’ she shouted. �
�I can hear you so clearly.’
‘You’d better be close,’ I shouted back with annoyance.
The snow disguised everything on the ground. I fell into holes in the grass and tripped over stones and tree roots. It was really spooky being here alone and I tried to concentrate on the trees for comfort, unsure whether my favourites were the slim graceful firs, poised like dancers waiting for the music to begin, or the sturdy ancient oaks, their trunks gnarled and blistered. I imagined they’d been here so long and seen so much there was nothing that would surprise them; in fact, after another few minutes I could see a wise old face in one of the stumps of a lopped branch. A beam through the trees suddenly signalled that Genevieve was there, and I wondered why she hadn’t done this before. Impatiently I strode on until the ground levelled out and the undergrowth ended.
‘What the …? Genevieve, don’t move.’
My hand flew up to my mouth in horror. I’d reached the frozen lake and Genevieve was gliding on it, her head thrown back, laughing.
‘I’ve never been ice skating before, Katy. It’s great, even without boots. Come on, you can be my partner.’
I didn’t want to startle her so I tried to sound completely unimpressed. ‘I’m cold and tired and I don’t want to skate. Let’s go back to the car.’
‘No,’ she protested, sliding forward and extending one leg behind her. I almost expected to see her spin. ‘You have to do this. It’s three in the morning and we’re lost in the middle of nowhere and the lake is so beautiful …’
I gave a loud fake laugh. ‘It might not be safe … Remember all the warnings about skating on thin ice … Come back to the shore.’
Her arms now twirled like helicopter blades and she looked so full of rapture that I was momentarily envious. ‘The sky is completely black,’ she sang, ‘like polished jet set with twinkling diamonds. This all might be gone by tomorrow.’
‘It’ll still be here,’ I assured her, ‘and we’ll skate in the daylight when we can see properly.’