by Heidi Perks
‘What do you mean?’ Kathryn gasped.
‘I know she’s in a home, Kathryn. I know what’s happened.’ She could feel the sting of tears pricking her eyes. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea – she would never have the upper hand over Peter and it really was getting unbearably uncomfortable.
‘Maybe I should go,’ she said, grabbing her handbag from the floor.
‘Oh, Kathryn, you’ve only just got here,’ he laughed. ‘But if that’s what you want …’ He waved a hand in the vague direction of the door. ‘Remember me to your mother, won’t you?’
Kathryn stopped. ‘Do you know what, Peter? I’ve never asked much of you. I put up with everything you threw at me. You wanted to leave me, fine. You could have. You changed your mind, fine. I let you stay. Then you decided you’d go again and that was no problem either. You went. All I’m asking of you is to tell me the truth. What actually happened?’
‘OK, take it easy,’ Peter said through clenched teeth, leaning in and glancing around at the few customers engrossed in their own conversations. He paused and seemed to consider his answer. ‘You weren’t too bothered by my leaving, Kathryn. Neither of us were happy, were we?’
‘I’m not talking about how happy we were. I’m not saying it wasn’t the right decision, I just want to know how come you were suddenly confident it wouldn’t affect your career?’ She knew she was right about him only staying in the marriage for his own good, yet once she had moved to the Bay and he had left, Peter had still taken over Charles’ business. And that’s what Kathryn had never understood. ‘What did my mother have to do with it?’ she asked.
Peter picked up his coffee cup, swirled it around in his hand and then settled it back on the table without taking a sip. He gazed up at her, even had the decency to look slightly ashamed, she thought.
‘I’m not proud of myself,’ he said. ‘I didn’t intend to hurt you. When they introduced us I thought you were beautiful, you know. I didn't ever expect to have a wife that looked like you. Of course I knew they were keen for us to get together. Eleanor wanted a son-in-law to take over the business and the fact they knew my uncle—’ He paused and looked back at his coffee cup. ‘I had hoped we might work out but obviously we didn’t. We’re far too different really, aren’t we, Kathryn?’
She waited for him to carry on, not knowing how to answer him.
‘I knew you’d never love me. You never stopped loving Robert, did you? Only I soon realised I didn’t like being married to someone who wasn’t really there half the time.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
Peter shrugged. ‘We didn’t talk, you showed no interest in me or being with me. You were more like a housemate than a wife.’
‘This isn’t what I came for,’ Kathryn said. ‘I don’t need to know why the marriage went wrong.’
‘I never liked the way you let your mother control you,’ he went on. ‘I always wished you would stand up to her, but we both know what she’s like, don’t we? I let her control me too in her own way.’
‘Because you were getting something out of it,’ Kathryn added. ‘My father’s business for one thing.’
‘Yes of course there was that,’ he said. ‘But with you –’ he shook his head – ‘I always wanted to do more but I’m afraid I never did.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I wanted to tell you what she was doing but I couldn’t. I would have lost everything.’
‘Tell me what? You’re not making any sense,’ she said.
Peter pushed his cup away and shuffled in his seat. His eyes flickered between Kathryn and the table as he took a deep breath. ‘The reason I still took over the business was because we made a deal. She let me go and I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone what I had found out.’
Kathryn opened her mouth to speak but he held up a hand to stop her. ‘Just let me finish now,’ he said. ‘There was a time when I couldn’t take any more of your moods, the way you regressed into yourself, wouldn’t let anyone near you. At first I put it down to grief or depression.’ He shrugged. ‘I had no idea what was going on with you but it was getting me down too, so I went to see my uncle about you. Of course Edgar wouldn’t talk to me, told me he couldn’t, patient confidentiality and all that, but I knew there was something he was keeping from me. He was too similar to my own father, an appalling liar.’
Kathryn shifted nervously. The hairs on her arms were beginning to stand on end; she had a feeling she didn’t want to hear what Peter was going to tell her.
‘So I started to look into things myself, like the drugs you were taking. The ones they told you were for sickness. Things just didn’t feel right and then you got pregnant, and I went back to see Edgar again, begged him to tell me the truth. I said I was worried about how the drugs might affect the pregnancy, that I’d spoken to a doctor friend of mine who told me that sickness wasn’t the only thing they were used for. Edgar told me that when you were twelve, he had diagnosed you with schizophrenia, Kathryn.’
‘What?’ Kathryn’s mouth dropped open. ‘You’re making this up.’
‘I’m not, I’m afraid. Less was known about it then and your mother freaked out, saying she couldn’t let it get out she had a daughter with such an illness. As always, Eleanor was consumed by what people would think of her. So Edgar agreed to hide it. Keep it from the world and the press. They told you the drugs were for sickness.’
‘But…’ Kathryn didn’t know what to say, what it all meant. Whatever she thought he might tell her it wasn’t that level of deceit. ‘I don’t believe you.’ She shook her head. It couldn’t be true, there was no way her mother would have hidden the fact she had an illness from her for all those years. Not just because she was ashamed.
‘I’m telling you the truth,’ he said earnestly.
‘No.’ Kathryn shook her head again, the air around her was thinning and even the motion of moving her head was making her dizzy, but she had to try and focus. ‘I can’t be, I don’t even know what it means. Isn’t that when you have two personalities?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ said Peter. ‘You need to talk to someone and get the facts, get the help you need—’
‘No. I don’t believe you,’ Kathryn cried. ‘Why the hell did you never tell me?’
‘I believed it was under control. And I knew if I said anything my uncle would lose his job over it. I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Like I said, I’m not proud of all my decisions.’
‘Jesus.’ The air was closing in on her again, she didn’t want to have another panic attack, not in the middle of Costa, not in front of Peter. Flapping herself with a napkin, Kathryn made a move to get up but her feet couldn’t hold her steady and she fell back onto the sofa.
Peter stood up, leaning over the table, and reached for her arm to help steady her. ‘I’m sorry, Kathryn,’ he said again.
‘Get off me.’ She whipped her arm away, cursing herself that she was getting into a state. This was the last thing she needed. ‘I need to go outside for a bit,’ she said, carefully pushing herself back up. ‘I need some air.’
‘OK, well shall I come with you?’ he asked, his eyes curiously watching her.
‘No,’ she said. ‘No, stay here.’ She moved, unsteady on her feet, and grabbing hold of the sofa turned to face him before she went outside. ‘Just do one thing for me,’ she said. ‘I need you to promise me something involving the girls.’
*****
Once outside, Kathryn leant back against the wall. Her head was thumping, a blind pain shooting across it and making her need to close her eyes. She wiped her damp palms across her top and waited for the feeling to pass, wondering whether she would make it back inside again or not. Peter had agreed that if Hannah, or even Lauren, ever knocked on his door or called his phone he would tell them he didn’t want to see them. He agreed he would do that for her, at least.
But the other things he had said – she had an illness that her mother had covered up. It couldn’t be true. Surely.
‘What have you done, Mother?’ Kathryn cried out. ‘Tell me he’s lying. Oh God!’ She felt so sick; she was going to need to find somewhere, to get off the high street at least. But all she could see were crowds of people rushing back and forth, back and forth. ‘What the hell have I done?’ she cried out.
A woman pushing a pram stopped and stared at her, frowning. Then she spoke to her, but Kathryn couldn’t hear the words.
‘My daughter,’ Kathryn said. ‘I left my daughter.’
She clutched at her mouth. Now she really was about to throw up, and all over the woman’s pretty blue shoes.
‘Is this woman OK?’ someone else was asking.
‘She says she’s left a daughter somewhere.’
‘Daughter?’ The other sounded surprised. The two women were gazing about now, one of them pointing into the coffee shop, both talking at her with too many words.
Run, run, a voice said. And so she ran, and kept on running down the street with no idea where she was going, but she had to get away from the people who started crowding round, staring at her as if she was losing the plot.
– Twenty-One –
Dear Adam,
The night you left me I thought you were never coming back, but I didn’t blame you. Why would you want to be with someone who lied to you, made you think you were trying for a precious child, when really all they were doing was everything they could to prevent that from happening. You texted me the following morning to say you were staying at your parents, and that you would call in a few days. ‘Give me some space to think,’ your text read.
Three weeks after that you came home. I hadn’t expected to see you in the kitchen when I got back from the shops. You jumped when you saw me, like you hadn’t expected it either, but I think you were so lost in thought you hadn’t heard the door open.
‘Adam!’ I cried. I dropped the shopping bags on the floor and made my way over to hug you.
‘Don’t…’ you held up a hand and I stopped, rooted to the spot. You’d never held back from me before, and suddenly I felt a new wave of grief washing over me. Of course you weren’t there because you wanted to be with me; you’d probably come back for your belongings.
‘We need to talk first,’ you said. ‘I have to know why you did this.’
‘First’, you had said ‘first’. That meant there would be an after. And that meant there was hope. I started to allow the jittery feeling I had in the pit of my stomach to bob about in its bubble of optimism.
You pulled out a chair for me and I sat at the table.
‘Go ahead, Abi. This is your turn to talk.’
Your voice was commanding, but it wasn’t stern. It was soft and gentle, pleading with me to make you understand why I had lied. Only then did I look at you properly, and I saw all the hurt I’d caused you darkening your eyes, making them lose their sparkle. Your face was drawn – had you not slept since you’d left me? I wanted to stroke your cheek, rub out the tiredness, turn you back into the Adam you were, full of life and joy. And I wondered if I could ever give that back to you.
That moment I had to decide whether to tell you the truth or let you go.
*****
‘April 25th, 1998,’ Maggie reminded me today. ‘You said that was a date you remembered well.’
It was the day I lost my virginity to Jason. We only had sex the one time, although he was more than ready to do it again after that, just not with me. He now had his sights set on Tasha.
Two weeks after that I skipped a period but I didn’t give it much thought because I had other things on my mind, like Jason barely speaking to me. Whenever I saw him in the playground or the canteen he was joking with a bunch of mates, Tasha hanging onto his arm and throwing her head back in riotous laughter when he said something mildly amusing. Cara, however, glad my short-lived relationship was over, was happy to be friends again. And so a month later, when I skipped another period, it was in her that I confided my growing concern I might be pregnant.
It was Cara’s idea to steal the pregnancy test from the chemist. I made a scene at the counter about the price of their chewing gum while she slipped a test into her pocket. An hour later she stood outside her parents’ bathroom while I peed on the stick and then came in and sat with me as we waited for the test to display its pink lines.
There were two. By then I knew what I was looking for, and I knew without hesitation I was pregnant.
‘Oh … My … God,’ Cara said. ‘Oh no, Abs! What are you going to do?’
I started crying and Cara put her arms around me, soothing me with, ‘Shit, your mum’s going to kill you!’
That made me cry harder.
‘Didn’t you use condoms?’ she asked.
‘He said he preferred it without.’
‘Yeah, well, don’t tell your mum that bit.’
‘She’s pregnant too,’ I blurted out.
‘Holy crap, that’s hilarious!’ she laughed before straightening her face and saying, ‘Of course if it wasn’t so hard for you. Poor Abs.’
I could see her trying to stop giggling and I knew that Cara would never be a true friend, but right then she was the only one I had.
We were still sitting on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor when her parents came home. Cara gasped when she heard the door open and looked at me in mock horror before sprinting to the landing, calling, ‘Mum, can you come here a second?’
‘Cara, what are you doing?’ I cried.
‘She’ll find out sooner or later,’ she shrugged.
‘No, she won’t, tell her something else.’
‘Mum,’ Cara said when her mum appeared at the door and caught her breath at the sight of me crying on her bathroom floor. ‘Abi’s just found out she’s pregnant.’
Cara’s mum made me sweet tea and gave me three chocolate digestives. She didn’t look particularly happy at the prospect of her daughter’s fourteen-year-old friend being with child, but said nothing to make me feel worse than I already did. I was beginning to appreciate Cara telling her when I heard them in the kitchen.
‘I bet you’re glad that’s not me, aren’t you, Mum?’ Cara said.
‘I know you wouldn’t put yourself about like that, love,’ she replied.
*****
So, Adam, that’s what happened. I had a baby. I have a baby. Somewhere.
I know what you must be thinking:
‘Five years we were together, and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell me that?’
No, Adam, I couldn’t.
‘Yet you managed to tell Maggie in what, three months?’
Yes. Though it wasn’t easy. And to be fair, she is a professional. And to be fairer still, I probably saw her every week with the intention of telling her even if I didn’t admit that to myself at the start.
‘Why couldn’t you tell me?’
I couldn’t tell you for a number of reasons. I could lie now and say it was a repressed memory, but it wasn’t. I’ve never forgotten, I just learnt to manage it by blocking it out of my head. If I never told anyone it happened then it didn’t matter. I could live without it scarring me. Or at least that’s what I thought.
‘But you were prepared to lose me?’
I was prepared to do what I needed to do to stop myself from going insane. But I prayed and prayed that it didn’t mean I had to lose you.
I like playing out our conversation in my head: I can make you sound more reasonable. Plus it gets to go my way.
*****
Maggie suggests that when my family left I put the memories of my baby into my subconscious memory. She said when that happens it can sometimes trigger a warning sign. It’s how she tries to explain why I lied to you about being on the pill: my subconscious was warning me it wasn’t a good idea for me to
have children.
After you first mentioned us trying for a baby I woke up that night drenched in sweat. My grandmother’s words were eating away at me, reverberating in my ears, ‘You are too self-centred to be a good mother, Abigail. Look at how you’re acting, not putting anyone first but yourself. You would never be able to keep a child safe or give them what they need.’ They were thrown at me so often I haven’t ever been able to shake them off. I grew from a child myself into a woman, still believing them to be true.
I justify it by reminding myself I already have a child that I haven’t been able to keep safe, so I couldn’t become a mother to your children because I couldn’t bear to think I’d screw things up like I did the first time. And I can’t bear the thought of possessing any of the maternal genes that run through my family – ones that would turn me into the type of mother Kathryn was – or worse, Eleanor.
So that’s why I lied to you, Adam. I pretended I’d stopped taking the pill. I let you believe we were trying and I was giving you everything you wanted. I didn’t tell you the truth because I didn’t want you trying to persuade me otherwise.
*****
Back then it didn’t take long for the news of my pregnancy to reach my mother. Cara’s mum called her a week later – ‘Just to let you know, Kathryn. In case Abigail hasn’t said anything.’
Of course, my mother was furious. ‘How could you do this?’ she kept saying to me, her hands shaking wildly as she ran her fingers through her hair. ‘What happens now? What do we do now?’ She was questioning it over and over in a feverish rant, but of course neither of us had the answers.
I hadn’t wanted it to happen, but of course that didn’t feature on my mother’s radar. I tried pleading with her to help me because I was frightened. Already I had a baby growing inside my tummy and I had no idea how we could make it stop. I almost begged her to hold me and tell me it would all be OK, and together we could work something out. But instead she was going round and round in circles, shaking her head, her eyes betraying her fear, practically shaking me to give her the answer. And so I stopped asking.