The heating was going full blast once more, and it was very warm in the hall. I let my thoughts drift, and the voice of the woman explaining all the different manufacturing processes Holtech was involved in gradually receded into the background. I dozed off for a few minutes until Donna suddenly nudged me.
“What?”
“Listen! This is interesting.”
The woman was listing some of the products the company produced. “…a range of components such as infra-red lenses, which are used for night-time photography, and miniature sensors, which have all sorts of commercial applications.” I saw what Donna was getting at. A company that made sensors and optical lenses might just be interested in a robot that used the same technology. I did wonder briefly how Dad had managed to overlook the fact that the largest employer in Holcombe Bay was also the ideal company to approach with his ideas. Maybe Dad spent so much time locked in his workshop that he had no idea what was going on locally.
The woman finished her talk and sat down. As the man began to give a video presentation about Holtech, Donna and I held a whispered conversation.
“Do you think we should try and speak to them after the talk?” I asked. “Sound them out about the robot?”
Donna was enthusiastic. “We’ll never get a better opportunity. We can waylay them in the car park as they’re leaving.”
I looked up and saw Mr Bull glaring at us. Had he noticed us whispering? If he had, we were in trouble. As soon as the lecture finished, and Mr Bull had thanked the Managing Director and her colleague in gushing terms for taking the time to speak to us, we started to push our way through the hordes of other Year Eight kids all making for the exit. I was half expecting to hear Bull’s voice call out, “Alex Macintyre!” above the noise of scraping chairs, talk and laughter, but he must have had better things to do because we escaped from the hall without being stopped.
To get to the car park at the back of the building we had to fight our way against the crush of kids making for the front entrance in order to go home. I was afraid we’d be too late, but as we pushed open the door that led to the car park, we saw the man and woman standing next to a shiny new BMW, deep in conversation.
“Don’t rush!” I whispered to Donna as we started out across the tarmac towards them. We didn’t want to arrive in front of them gasping for breath, or they’d never take us seriously.
The man saw us first. He said something to the woman, and as she turned round and stared at us, I noticed she was pregnant. She didn’t look very welcoming. You could almost see her thinking: not more kids!
Suddenly I realised I hadn’t a clue what to say. As I struggled unsuccessfully to work out how to broach the subject, Donna took the initiative. “Miss Fairchild? We were wondering if you could give us some advice about our technology project.”
The man touched her arm. “Don’t forget we’ve got a meeting in half an hour!” he said, but she ignored him and went on staring at us. Finally she said, “OK, what’s the problem?”
“Well, we have to write an essay about how a new product is designed and manufactured, something futuristic like…” Donna paused as if she was desperately searching for an idea, “…like a robot, for instance. A robot that could be used to find someone trapped in a burning building or detect unexploded mines. Would your company be interested in something like that?”
“A robot!” said the woman. “Now, there’s an interesting thought! We’ve never made anything that complicated before, but we certainly manufacture a lot of the components you’d need to make one.” She broke off suddenly and turned to me. “What’s your name?”
Oh, no, I thought. She’s going to report us to Bull for bothering her.
“Er… I’m Alex Macintyre, and this is my sister Donna.”
She nodded slowly. “Well, you two, I don’t think this is really about a technology project, is it? I think you know someone who’s designed a robot. OK, tell them from me that we’re always looking for innovative ideas, and a robot might fit very well into our development programme. Now, I’m afraid I must go; I’m due at another meeting. Come on, Lionel.”
She climbed into the car, and the man got in the other side and started the engine. As they drove out of the car park, she wound down the window and gave us a little wave, as if she was a visiting royal.
As the car disappeared from view, we looked at each other in astonishment. “She knows!” said Donna. “But how does she know? We haven’t told anyone about Hamish, and I’m sure Dad hasn’t!”
“She can’t know. It must have just been a lucky guess. Anyway, she’s answered our question. Now we just have to persuade Dad to talk to her. Maybe it will be easier for him if he knows she’s already interested.”
Maybe he would talk to her; maybe he wouldn’t. It was always difficult to guess what his reactions would be, especially when he was depressed. We were going to have to pick our moment.
Chapter Thirteen: A BUNDLE OF PAPERS
When we got home that night, I noticed immediately that the atmosphere in the house had changed and the pall of gloom had lifted. There was no sign of Dad, but we could hear Nan moving around in the kitchen and singing along to her favourite golden oldies programme on the radio. If she was singing again, things must be improving.
When she saw us, Nan pointed silently, and we saw the light in the workshop window, twinkling away at the bottom of the garden. Nobody said anything, but we all heaved a collective sigh of relief. It looked as if things were back to normal.
“Now Ian’s working again,” Nan said, as she put on her coat and picked up her handbag, “I feel I can safely go out and enjoy myself, so I’ve arranged to go to the cinema with Marjorie. There’s a casserole for you all in the oven. See you later.”
At half past six I called Dad in from the workshop and Donna served up the casserole. We chatted as we ate, and Dad joined in from time to time. Although he was still quite preoccupied, he seemed in a good mood. After we’d finished eating, he stayed at the table, drawing diagrams on scraps of paper. We squinted over his shoulder at the squiggly lines. “What is it?” Donna asked.
“I’m making modifications to Hamish so he can identify smells,” Dad said. “It means he’ll be able to detect drugs, just like a sniffer dog. It’ll make him more marketable.”
Donna and I looked at each other. The moment had arrived. I took a deep breath and launched into the speech I’d prepared.
“At school today, a couple of people from a big company gave a talk about design and technology. They said they had a big research department and were looking for new ideas. They sounded like just the sort of people who’d be interested in Hamish.”
Dad didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic. “I doubt it, Alex. It’s a very specialised field. Very few companies in this country are geared up for this sort of modern technology.”
“That’s just it, Dad!” said Donna eagerly. “They already make cameras and sensors, so surely they’re ideal.”
She had his full attention now. He raised his eyebrows at her. “You think so, do you? And what’s the name of this ‘ideal’ company?”
“It’s Holtech, Dad. They’re a local company…” Donna’s voice tailed off as she saw Dad’s expression change.
“Holtech,” he said softly. “I see. And did you by any chance mention my robot to them?” He was standing up now, and glowering at Donna across the table.
I jumped to her defence. “Of course not, Dad. Not exactly…”
“You promised not to tell anyone! So much for family loyalty! How dare you interfere!” His voice rose in anger, and my stomach began to turn somersaults. Everything was going horribly wrong. We’d meant well, but somehow we’d only made things worse.
Donna leapt to her feet. She was as angry as he was now. “Don’t you want to sell any of your inventions?” she shouted. “Don’t you want to make some money? Or do you just want to be a loser all your life?”
Dad reached across the table and slapped her hard on the face.
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There was a sudden silence as we both stared at him, horror-struck. He’d never laid a hand on either of us before. Then Donna pushed back her chair and dashed out of the room. I heard her feet pounding up the stairs and then the sound of her bedroom door slamming.
Dad sank back onto his chair. All his anger seemed to have drained away. He dropped his head into his hands. “Get out and leave me alone,” he muttered. “Go on – buzz off!”
As I went slowly upstairs, I realised my legs were shaking. I couldn’t believe Dad had hit Donna. And why had he hit her? OK, she shouldn’t have called him a loser, but it seemed to be our attempt to help him sell the robot that had really angered him. And why had our mention of Holtech sent him over the edge?
A few minutes later, when I looked out of my bedroom window, I saw Dad charging off down the road as if the Hound of the Baskervilles was after him.
After a while I knocked on Donna’s door. She didn’t reply. I pushed the door open and went in. She was lying on her bed, sobbing – great shuddering sobs that seemed to fill the room. I couldn’t remember when I’d last seen her cry like that. I felt helpless. I didn’t know what to say to comfort her, so I just sat next to her and held her hand tight until at last the tears subsided. Eventually she sat up, wiping her wet face on the pillow case.
“What was all that about?” she asked, and her voice trembled as she spoke. I shook my head. “Dunno. Perhaps he’s just paranoid that they’ll try and pinch his ideas. You know how secretive he is about everything.”
“He’s mad. Does he think Holtech will send a spy around here to steal his precious robot?” Another tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it impatiently away with her sleeve.
I had a sudden vision of a man in a balaclava creeping round the house, peering into cupboards and pulling out drawers. That reminded me how I’d been meaning to look for more information about our mother. Maybe I could use that as a way of distracting Donna and taking her mind off what had just happened. “Look,” I said. “I’m as fed up as you are with Dad’s secrecy. But there’s one thing he has no right to keep from us and that’s the truth about our mother. It’s as if both he and Nan are trying to pretend she never existed. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
Donna shrugged. “What does it matter?”
“Don’t you want to find out about her?”
“Not really. She’s dead, and nothing we do can bring her back. What’s going on now is more important than what happened all those years ago.”
“But don’t you see? It’s what happened in the past that’s made Dad the way he is now. That’s why we have to find out! It might explain why everyone is so secretive about Annie.”
She thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. “I s’pose you’re right.”
“You bet I am! And now, while both Nan and Dad are out, is the perfect time to see what we can find out about Annie. Come on, Donna, we’ll never have a better chance to solve the mystery!”
And so we set about searching the house. It was difficult to know where to start. Our house is like a rabbit warren of small rooms, all at different levels where bits have been added on over the years. Nan told us it was once the gatekeeper’s lodge to a manor house, but the manor house was pulled down years ago to make way for the new estate and Lea Green School. The house is full of all the stuff from Nan’s life with Granddad, as well as all our belongings. We’d set ourselves a huge task.
In the end we decided to start by looking in all the cupboards. Granddad was a DIY fanatic, and there are loads of them built into nooks and crannies, in recesses and under the stairs. When I opened the door of the biggest cupboard, all sorts of things came tumbling out: old jigsaw puzzles, chipped flower vases, and unfinished pieces of knitting. We began to sort through the pile.
An hour later, we’d been through all the downstairs cupboards without finding anything remotely interesting. I still wasn’t sure what we were looking for. Photos or letters, perhaps? A marriage certificate would be good; that would give our mother’s surname before she married.
“What about that desk in the sitting room where Nan keeps all her papers?” Donna suggested. I felt a bit sneaky and underhand, looking through Nan’s private papers, but we had a right to this information. After all, people who are adopted can apply for details of their birth mother once they reach eighteen. Annie was our birth mother, so really we were just doing the same thing, only a few years earlier.
Nan may not have turned out cupboards very often, but she certainly kept her papers in order. We pulled out the drawers and sat on the floor going through the contents. There were lots of bank statements and bills, all filed neatly in folders, but none of it was relevant. Where was all the personal stuff?
Then I noticed something strange. “Hey, Donna, look! This drawer is quite shallow, but the desk itself is much deeper…”
I plunged my arm into the hole where the drawer had been. As I had suspected, there was a space at the back, beyond the drawer runners, and there was something wedged into the space. It felt like a thick envelope. I pulled it out.
Just then, we became aware of noises in the kitchen. It had to be Nan returning early. We couldn’t risk her finding us going through the desk. Donna hurriedly switched on the television while I forced the drawer back in place and dived for the sofa, where I’d thrown down my backpack when I came in from school. I just had time to shove the envelope inside it before Nan popped her head round the door.
“That was a waste of time. The new film was sold out, so we’ll have to try another day. Have you two had your supper?”
“Yes, Nan.” I grabbed the backpack and made for the door. “I’m just going to do my homework. Come on, Donna. I need your help with my History essay.”
A few moments later we were sitting side by side on the bed in my room, looking at the fat brown envelope from the desk. “Of course, it may be nothing to do with Annie,” I said.
Donna picked up the envelope. “Well, we’ll never find out if we don’t look,” she pointed out, as she teased open the flap and pulled out a wodge of papers.
Chapter Fourteen: PANDORA’S BOX
The papers were folded in half and held together with a rubber band. When I removed the band, we could see that what we had was one letter folded round a bunch of other letters. The paper they were written on was darker at the edges, as if it was quite old.
The letters were in Dad’s untidy, sprawling writing. They were all addressed to Annie.
“Which one shall I start with?” Donna asked.
“Start with the earliest one.”
We checked the dates. The first one was written two months after we were born.
“That doesn’t make sense!” I said slowly. “Not if she died when we were born. You don’t write letters to dead people.”
We stared at each other in bewilderment, then Donna picked up the letter and began to read.
Darling Annie,
I miss you so much. Every hour of every day I think of you at least
once. At night, when I finally fall into an exhausted sleep, you’re always in my dreams.
I can’t work – my concentration’s shot to pieces.
I can’t believe you left us all. Please tell me that you’ll return – if not tomorrow, then sometime in the future.
One sentence kept repeating over and over in my head: I can’t believe you left us all. I gasped. “She didn’t die. She walked out on him – on all of us!”
We stared at each other for a long time without speaking. When you’ve spent thirteen years believing your mother’s dead, it’s devastating to discover she might be out there somewhere, alive and well, doing the things that people do every day – just not doing them with you.
Donna was the first to recover. I think I was still in shock. She took Dad’s letters and began to scan them quickly, pointing out phrases that seemed to confirm that Annie had indeed walked out on Dad. Lastly, she picked up the letter that had been wrapped round all the other ones,
and began to read it. It was immediately obvious that this one was from our mother.
Dear Ian,
I’m returning all the letters you’ve sent me. Please don’t write any more. It won’t do any good. You should know by now that once I’ve made a decision, I always stick to it. I’ve told you again and again that I’m not the maternal sort, and I want more out of life than to be a housewife and mother with a part-time job to pay for a few luxuries. I need to make something of myself. I don’t know yet how I’ll do it, but I do know a husband and children will hold me back. Your mother will look after the twins far better than I ever could, and they won’t miss the mother they’ve never known.
I shouldn’t have married you, Ian. I know that now. We’ve both paid for that mistake, and I’m sorry for it. You’re a terrific guy, and a part of me will always love you. One day you’ll meet a woman who’s right for you, but you have to understand once and for all that that woman is not me.
Annie
There were tears on Donna’s face by the time she’d finished reading. “How terrible for Dad. He loved her so much. No wonder he’s been strange ever since.” Then her expression hardened. “How could she do that, Alex? How could she abandon two newborn babies? She must be some kind of monster!”
I didn’t reply, because lots of things were slotting into place in my head. I remembered Nan saying, after Pinstripe’s visit, how Dad couldn’t cope with rejection, and I began to see how being rejected by Annie all those years ago could make him wary of risking rejection again. Maybe that was why he wouldn’t approach Holtech.
Donna said suddenly, “I can’t think about this anymore tonight. I’m exhausted. All I want to do is crash out.” I felt just the same. It was as if all my emotions had been put through a cement mixer and were now hopelessly jumbled up, and I knew both of us needed some time to think.
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