In Focus (2009)

by Jacobs, Anna

  ‘What’s wrong, Edward?’ one of them called.

  ‘I’m just sorting out the mess that incorrect story has made of my cousin’s life.’

  ‘How is it incorrect?’

  ‘Come to the press conference later this afternoon and find out.’ He was through the doors by then and didn’t look back. Some situations could only be dealt with face to face, and this was one.

  He wasn’t sure how Pete would react, though. That one incident, so many years ago, had marked the whole family, it seemed, Pete as well as his mother and sister. The father was conspicuous by his absence, even now, so Edward didn’t intend to waste time on him. A man who’d abandoned his wife and daughter so easily and jumped straight into another relationship wasn’t worth it.

  Could the main players in the drama be made whole again? He’d try his hardest to help them, because they mattered very much to him.

  But if Pete wasn’t prepared to be kind to his birth mother, then Edward would wash his hands of his cousin’s problems and concentrate on looking after Beth.

  She wasn’t going to face any more crises on her own if he could help it.

  Jo went into the flat and found Ghita in the kitchen, cooking something and looking sad. ‘Has Mum come home?’

  ‘Yes. She said she wanted to lie down. She looked dreadful, Jo, as if she’d been crying good and hard.’

  ‘She has.’ Jo explained quickly, then made a cup of tea to take to her mother.

  She tapped on the bedroom door and when there was no answer, peeped inside. Her mother was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It took her a minute or two to react to Jo’s entrance.

  ‘Sorry. I’m a bit tired.’

  ‘You’re upset, you mean. Edward came and got me from work. He didn’t think you should be left alone.’

  Even that didn’t rouse Beth out of her lethargy. ‘Well, he’s wrong. What I need quite desperately is to be left to think my way through this.’

  ‘Let me stay with you, Mum. You’ve never talked about what happened to you after your brother vanished. Tell me about it now.’

  Beth sat up and glared at her. ‘I know you mean well, and Edward means well, but I can’t take any more kindness and fuss. It’s suffocating me.’

  She looked so fierce Jo set the cup of tea down beside her and went back to the door. ‘All right. If that’s what you want, face it alone. But you don’t need to. I’m definitely not going back to work today and I’ll be here whether you want me or not.’

  She went out, then poked her head back round the door to yell, ‘And I won’t run away again, whatever you do, so get used to that!’

  Beth watched the door shut, feeling guilty about upsetting her daughter. Why could none of them realize that what she needed most was peace and quiet to pull herself together? That had always worked before. It was her way of tackling problems. She was ashamed of how she’d broken down in front of Edward. Weak, that was.

  First she had to centre herself again. Somehow, ever since she’d discovered that Pete was her brother, she’d felt off balance.

  She’d tried to look after her mother in this new crisis, as she always did, but she hadn’t been needed. This time her mother was the strong one, and anyway Linda had Nat now.

  More tears came into Beth’s eyes, but she took a few deep breaths and got control of herself again. It was nice to know Edward was concerned enough about her to fetch Jo, though. He was a kind man, and foolishly she’d fallen in love with him. But if being with him meant being with her brother as well, seeing Pete regularly and his mother . . . then she couldn’t face it. Just couldn’t.

  The look of scorn on Pete’s face as he’d offered her money to go away and keep quiet about their relationship, the way he’d treated her mother, who was also his mother – that’d shown her what he really thought of them. However hard he pretended to be friendly now, she wouldn’t be able to trust him.

  No, she couldn’t face having anything further to do with him and that was that.

  A short time later she hugged another thought to herself. It was comforting that Jo had come home from work, wanting to help. She couldn’t really help, no one could. But still, to know her daughter was there for her felt . . . good. It meant this horrible business hadn’t driven her away.

  And if Jo meant what she’d yelled as she left the bedroom, that would fill some of the emptiness after she stopped seeing Edward.

  She had her daughter back, even if she’d lost the man she loved. She must cling to that. Nothing in life was ever perfect. She should know that by now.

  Ghita’s father was watching the television news during his lunch break at the corner shop he owned when he saw his daughter on the screen. She was going into the block of flats where Beth Harding, Pete Newbury’s sister, lived. It suddenly occurred to him that Beth Harding was the mother of Ghita’s neighbour Jo Harding. He snapped his fingers as he realized exactly where his daughter was living. No wonder he hadn’t been able to find her.

  He listened to the reporter and it just bore out what he felt about the way life ought to be organized. His sons could say what they wanted, but the old ways were best. If Pete’s mother had been looking after her child properly in the first place, no one would have been able to kidnap him. A woman’s place was in the home, first her family’s home, then her husband’s. Women still bore the children whether you’d moved to a new country or not.

  But he’d been wrong to throw Ghita out when it happened. His wife had never forgiven him for it. And see where it had led.

  He called his eldest son in, and when they showed a summary of the main news articles on the television, he pointed Ghita out to Nuriel. ‘I’m going round there to find your sister and bring her back. She shouldn’t be living with a woman like that.’

  ‘What has Mrs Harding done wrong?’

  ‘It’s what she is – a woman running a business like a man. A woman whose mother let her son be kidnapped. What kind of an example is that for a decent young woman? No wonder her own daughter ran away from home. And now that woman’s name is on everyone’s tongue. How will any man want to marry Ghita if she associates with notorious people?’

  Before his son could stop him, he’d hurried out of the shop.

  Nuriel stood there for a moment, trying to get his head round all this. His father was so old-fashioned he’d treated Ghita unfairly over something which wasn’t her fault. When he found out what had happened, Nuriel had tried to find her, but she’d vanished, been taken into a women’s shelter. It had made him sad that strangers were the ones to help her, but at least it meant she was safe. And anyway, she’d have had a miserable life if she’d come home.

  He and his mother worried about his father, who refused to change with the times. They lived in England now and had done for the past twenty-five years. Nuriel couldn’t remember living anywhere else, and Ghita and the others had been born here. This was their home.

  Why had his father gone chasing after poor Ghita? What did he think he could do, drag her back by force? The trouble was, he might even try to do that, and then he would be in trouble with the police.

  Leaving his youngest brother in charge of the shop, Nuriel hurried upstairs to the family flat to tell his mother what had happened. ‘I’m going after him.’

  ‘No one can stop him when he gets like this,’ she said sadly.

  ‘I can try.’

  ‘Tell Ghita I want to keep seeing her – and my grandson. He’s a lovely child.’

  Nuriel went to give his mother a hug. ‘I will.’

  Although Edward was longing to check that Beth was feeling better, time was of the essence. He went straight from the office to the hospital, armed with a video camera. If his aunt would say something conciliatory, it would help fill in the gap where he’d planned to have Beth make a statement.

  Aunt Sue listened to his request and nodded. ‘Of course I’ll speak. But on one condition.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Afterwards I want you to ask Mrs Ha
rding if she’ll come and see me. Beg her to, if necessary. I can’t rest easy till I’m sure she understands that I didn’t know about the kidnapping.’

  She was looking stressed, so he agreed. ‘But only on condition you rest after this and don’t let yourself get agitated.’ To his relief she sagged back against the pillows, nodding.

  She smiled sadly. ‘How can I help but feel agitated, Edward, when the press is trying to destroy my son?’

  He laid his hand on hers. ‘I told you I was going to sort all that out. Trust me. I shall do it. Unless we’re very unlucky, by the time I’m finished, Pete will come out of this more pitied than reviled.’

  ‘I never thought, you know . . .’ She broke off, staring blindly across the room.

  ‘Never thought what?’

  ‘How he must have felt at being taken from everything he knew. He wouldn’t speak at first, cried a lot. I held him, comforted him, was glad when he’d only come to me, not Donald. I was so selfish. I tried to make him forget the past by never speaking of it. But he was three, not a baby. Of course he must have remembered things.’

  He kept a careful eye on her, still worried, but she took a deep breath and turned back to him. ‘You’re right. I mustn’t get agitated. It’ll do no one any good if I get ill again. Tell me what you want me to say.’

  It was quickly done. She spoke simply and directly. What she said moved Edward greatly, but he didn’t let himself give in to his emotions. He had to hurry. It was up to him to get them all out of this safely.

  Not only Pete, but the woman he loved.

  Thanks to Ilsa’s efficiency, the press conference was scheduled for five o’clock in one of the big hotels near the office. Edward grabbed a sandwich on the run as he and Ilsa made the final arrangements. She phoned the major newspapers and television news programmes, while he called a few other important people to let them know what was happening. He particularly didn’t want the senior management at the television station to be surprised by what was going on.

  He tried several times to phone Beth, but Jo said her mother was having a lie down and wasn’t answering the phone. He explained to Jo what he’d arranged and she listened carefully, questioning him a couple of times.

  ‘I’ll let Mum know you called and try to make her change her mind about coming to the press conference.’

  ‘I doubt she’ll do that and I won’t pressure her into it.’

  ‘It’d help, though, if she was there, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. But she’s been hurt enough so we’ll manage without her.’

  Jo’s voice grew softer. ‘You really love her, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. I’m not sure whether she loves me, though – or should I say whether she loves me enough?’

  ‘She’d be mad to let this come between you.’

  ‘Only she can know whether she’ll be able to face meeting Pete and his mother regularly. I can’t stop seeing him, or my aunt. They’re my only close family.’

  ‘You mean you’re not going to try to persuade her if she gives you the heave-ho?’

  ‘Persuade, yes, force, no.’

  She was silent for a few moments, then said, ‘And on top of all else she’s had to face, I ran away, so she was left on her own again. I can’t believe how stupid I was, how insensitive! I knew about her brother and I still did it to her again.’

  ‘We all learn a few things the hard way as we grow up.’

  She chuckled. ‘You don’t look as if you’ve ever put a foot wrong.’

  ‘Oh, I have. Believe me, I cringe when I think of some of the stupid things I did as a teenager. I was just lucky they didn’t have serious lasting consequences.’

  She surprised him by saying, ‘I hope you and Mum do get together.’

  ‘Thanks. So do I. Um – what brought that vote of confidence on?’

  ‘Chatting to you, realizing you’re being straight with me. And what’s more, I think you’d make a great grandfather for Mikey.’

  He was still smiling when he put the phone down. Grandfather! He’d given up hope of that when he found he couldn’t father a child. It’d be wonderful to have a grandchild, possibly more than one if Jo met another guy she liked.

  Ilsa looked into his office. ‘Something nice happen? You’re smiling for the first time today.’

  ‘Yes. Just a small thing, but it lifts the spirits.’

  At three thirty there was a knock on the door, and when Ghita answered it, she let out a cry of shock at the sight of her father.

  He pushed into the flat, grabbing her arm and giving it a shake to emphasize his words. ‘You, my girl, are packing your things and coming home with me now. I’m not having you staying with that woman for one hour longer.’

  Jo rushed into the hall and saw her friend trying to pull away from her irate father, so tried to shove between them. ‘Let her go, you big bully!’

  ‘Mind your own business, you! I’m not having my daughter associating with people like you and your mother.’

  ‘What’s my mother done wrong, for heaven’s sake?’

  ‘She’s a bad example for my daughter, goes out and works like a man. And her mother was bad too. She was so careless she let her son be kidnapped.’

  Furious, Jo poked him in the chest. ‘You’re a fine one to talk. What did you do when your daughter needed help? Disowned her, that’s what. If it hadn’t been for the women’s shelter, she’d have been begging on the streets. Some father you are!’

  She grabbed Ghita’s hand and yanked her away, knowing how her friend froze when faced with the man who had once dominated her life. Shoving Ghita behind her, she glared at him. ‘Get out of this flat before we call the police.’

  ‘I’m her father. I have a right to tell her what to do.’

  Jo made a loud, scornful noise. ‘Rubbish! She’s twenty-four, not fourteen. Besides, as I just told you, you lost that right when you abandoned her after she was attacked. She’s happy here and she’ll be happy living with me, too, when we find a place of our own. But she’d never be happy with you because you don’t care about her, only about yourself.’

  Ghita’s father gaped at her, then lunged forward, arm raised.

  Beth woke from an uneasy doze to hear someone shouting in the hall. She lay for a moment, then jerked upright as she realized one of the voices was a man’s, and that it was Jo who was yelling at him.

  Had the journalists broken in?

  She rolled off the bed and ran to the door, flinging it open to see a man lunging for her daughter. Grabbing the nearest thing, which was one of Mikey’s soft toys, she hurled it at him.

  The toy was too soft to harm him, but it stopped Ghita’s father in his tracks. He turned to glare at her just as someone else pushed open the front door and called, ‘Father, stop this!’

  The newcomer was a startlingly handsome young man, with dark hair and beautiful coffee-coloured skin.

  ‘I beg you, don’t cause trouble, Father!’ he pleaded. ‘These people have enough to bear.’

  His father grunted but let his hand fall.

  Beth looked from one person to the other. ‘Let’s go and sit down in the living room. We should talk about this reasonably, Mr Haddad, not come to blows.’

  Ghita gestured to the door of the living room. ‘Please, Father.’

  ‘I’ll come in willingly.’ Nuriel moved forward.

  His sister gave him a quick smile of gratitude.

  His father hesitated, looked at his son and daughter, then flung up his hands, speaking in his own language.

  To everyone’s relief, after hesitating for what seemed a long time, he went through the door to the living room.

  Beth gestured to the sofa. ‘Please sit down, Mr Haddad. May we offer you some refreshment?’

  The others filed into the room and took seats, but Ghita took the one furthest away from her father.

  ‘Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Harding,’ Nuriel said, seeing that his father seemed struck dumb. ‘We’d like that very much.’


  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Jo said.

  For once, Ghita didn’t rush to help in the kitchen. When Kaleel came across to her, she pulled him on to her knee and cuddled him close, as if protecting him.

  Nuriel went across to his sister, who looked at him warily. He knelt down beside her and spoke to the child. ‘Hello, Kaleel. I’m your uncle.’

  She whispered in her son’s ear.

  He smiled at Nuriel and said, ‘Hello, Uncle Nuriel,’ then grew shy and hid his face against his mother.

  Mikey tried to go towards them. Beth grabbed him. ‘Stay with me, darling.’

  He looked at her mutinously but let her pull him on to her lap.

  Nuriel pulled out his mobile phone, took a photo of his sister and her child, then showed it to Kaleel, who clapped his hands in pleasure. ‘I’ll give a copy of this to my mother,’ he said. ‘She longs to know her grandson better.’

  Mr Haddad closed his eyes, but tears leaked out and he wiped them away with one forearm, muttering something.

  ‘What’s he saying?’ Beth whispered to Nuriel.

  ‘He’s saying he wants his family back,’ he said. He turned to his sister. ‘You don’t need to come home to live, but you could come to visit us, surely? I’d fetch you and see you got home safely afterwards each time.’

  Then she too was weeping, flinging herself into her brother’s arms. ‘Yes, yes! I’d love that.’

  The two little boys, upset by all the fuss, began to cry as well, and by the time they’d been settled, Jo was back with a tray of refreshments.

  ‘I’m not as good at this as Ghita,’ she said conversationally. ‘She’s teaching me a lot, but I’ll never be a good cook like she is.’

  She began to pass out the cups of coffee, offering sugar and milk, then a platter of biscuits.

  Mr Haddad hesitated, then took what she offered, and Nuriel breathed a sigh of relief.

  Ghita stayed where she was, her son on her knee, looking occasionally at her father, an uncertain gaze in which hope was mingled with fear.

  Kaleel saw where she was looking and peeped at the man, too.

  ‘He’s your grandfather,’ she whispered. ‘Say hello to your grandfather.’