by Susan Lewis
‘You understand, don’t you,’ the social worker had said, ‘that it will be up to his adoptive parents whether or not they pass on your gifts and letters. If they decide to, they can hold on to them until he’s older.’
‘Yes, I understand that,’ Eva had assured her, so eager to start writing that she was already getting to her feet.
‘And they’re under no obligation to tell you anything about him other than what they choose to.’
‘I’m sure they’ll let me know his name though, won’t they,’ she’d said, desperately. ‘And how he’s doing at school?’
The social worker had smiled kindly. ‘Since they’ve agreed to the contact I’m sure they will,’ was the reply.
But they hadn’t. In fact, in spite of saying they would, his adoptive parents never wrote to her at all. At first she’d felt sure it could only be a matter of time before they got round to it, so she’d continued to buy toys and books, clothes and videos – taking guidance from her nephew’s preferences, even though he was three years older. By the time a year had passed and there was still no word she found herself storming into the social services administrator’s office one wet April afternoon, demanding to know whether or not her packages were getting through.
‘Is someone stealing them? Is that what’s happening?’ she’d accused. ‘Are you keeping the money for yourselves?’
After sitting her down with a cup of tea and a biscuit, a harassed but kindly man had assured her that no one was stealing her son’s gifts or money, it was simply that the adoptive parents were exercising their right to withhold information until such time as they deemed it in their son’s best interests for the situation to change.
‘Their son’. He was theirs, not hers, and she, as his real mother, apparently had no rights whatever. It was unbearable, almost worse than when there had been no contact at all. What sort of people were they that they could do this to her? They must be cold and callous, so what were they doing to her little boy? Was he lonely and frightened? Did they keep him locked up in a cupboard, or chained to a table? Was he roaming the streets, or was he safe at school? What sort of food did they give him? How was his health? The fear, the panic began to drive her so crazy that in the end Don had talked her into getting some counselling. She’d agreed, and she had to admit it had helped. Nevertheless, even calmer and in a more rational state of mind, she’d remained determined to find out why the adoptive parents, caring and loving though they might be, were so unwilling to let her have any information at all about her son. And whatever the law might say, he was still her son, and nothing could ever change that.
From the start Shelley Rolfe, the lawyer Bobbie had found for her, had made it clear how unlikely it was that they’d ever achieve the kind of outcome Eva was after. Eva had assured her she understood that, but since all she wanted to know was her son’s first name, she couldn’t believe a judge would consider that too much to ask.
‘Probably not,’ Shelley had concurred, ‘but judges are funny people, there’s never any knowing how they might react, even when a situation seems perfectly straightforward and fair to the rest of us.’
The ruling had gone against her, and no explanation was offered as to why the adoptive parents weren’t willing to provide information about their son – their son –they simply didn’t want to. Nor had the judge been prepared to issue an order for them to comply with the terms they’d agreed to at the time the letter-box scheme had been set up. Whoever they were, these strangers who were so intransigent, so heartless, had had the final say, and Eva wasn’t even allowed to know their name.
At the end of it all she’d been so traumatised and drained that Don and Patty, worried out of their minds, had told her she must never put herself through it again. Because she loved them, and didn’t want to cause them any more distress, she’d allowed more than eleven years to go by before she’d finally managed to summon the courage to break her promise and steel her nerves to get in touch with Shelley for the second time. ‘Anything could have happened by now,’ she’d insisted when she’d spoken to Shelley just over a month ago. ‘The parents might have softened, maybe they’re not even together any more and if they aren’t, surely the judge will look more kindly on me.’
‘It’s possible,’ Shelley had conceded, ‘but remember you only have two years to wait before he can access the register to find out about you.’
‘But what if they haven’t told him about me? He might not even know he’s adopted, and if he doesn’t the register means nothing. Can we ask the judge to make them tell him they’re his adoptive parents?’
‘You know we can’t,’ Shelley had replied gently.
‘Then can they at least be made to swear that they’re passing on all the gifts and money I send? Surely it must mean something that I’ve never missed a single birthday or Christmas.’
‘The problem is, the regularity of your contact could make you seem obsessive which I’m afraid won’t work in your favour.’
‘But he’s my son! What am I supposed to do? Ignore the fact that he exists?’
‘That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just trying to prepare you for another disappointment, in case it happens. But it might not, and I don’t see any reason why the judge shouldn’t understand that all you’re asking for is some sort of confirmation that your son is being well taken care of.’
‘And that he’s still in the country? Can we ask that too?’
‘OK.’
‘Do you think we can request a photograph? I’ve read on the Internet that it can happen, so why not for me?’
After agreeing to add a photograph to the list of requests Shelley had taken the new application to court.
A decision still hadn’t come back, and Eva had no idea whether that was good or bad. All Shelley could tell her was that as soon as she had some news she’d be in touch right away. So Eva was left waiting – and hoping with all her heart that one day, quite soon now, she would, at the very least, be able to look at a photograph of her son.
Chapter Three
Bringing her Suzuki Jeep to a standstill outside the carport at Eva and Don’s house, Olivia was about to turn off the engine when she spotted the dreaded Jasmine’s car parked next to Eva’s. Given it was Sunday she hadn’t been expecting to find her aunt alone, but Don never minded when she rocked up to drag Eva off for a ‘girlie chat’. Jasmine, on the other hand, rarely failed to make some sort of comment about knowing where she wasn’t wanted before stalking off to her room in a strop, or just hanging around being exactly where she wasn’t wanted. Honestly, talk about having a chip on her shoulder – as Olivia’s boyfriend, Dave, had once remarked, if she turned her head too fast she’d knock herself out.
Killing the engine, Olivia reached into the back seat for her bag. She had important matters to discuss with Eva this morning, so whether Jasmine liked it or not she was going to claim her aunt all to herself.
Giving a jaunty salute to a camera perched in a beech tree, just in case anyone was watching, Olivia started towards the conservatory with a brisk, salty breeze rippling the waves of her long dark hair, while a dozen or more seagulls swooped and screeched through the warm air above. At five foot nine she was an inch shorter than her mother – two below Eva – and her sunny smile and slender physique were more gifts from that side of her family. However, her large, brilliant eyes, olive complexion and slightly aquiline nose were all her father’s.
Finding the conservatory door unlocked, she’d barely made it through the tropical oasis before the odd couple came bundling across the kitchen to greet her. ‘You two make me feel like the most special person alive,’ she laughed, as their race to get to her rendered them jammed in the doorway.
Rolling her eyes, Eva watched her beloved animals squirming in their girth as Olivia dished out hearty hugs, before scooting them ahead of her into the kitchen.
‘This is a nice surprise,’ Eva told her, abandoning the raspberries she was washing to take two mugs from a cupboard. ‘I wa
sn’t expecting to see you today. Are you doing espresso or cappuccino this morning?’
‘How about a skinny latte?’ Olivia replied, perching on one of the bar stools. ‘I swear I’ve put on five pounds in the last two days. Please tell me how that happens.’
Treating her to a sceptical once-over, Eva said, ‘You’re slimmer than I was in my heyday, so quit whingeing. Have you had breakfast? I’ve just picked the last of the raspberries, so you can have them with muesli, if you like. Or on their own.’
‘On their own would be fab. Dave only went out to get fresh croissants this morning. How mean is that when I’m supposed to be dieting? Anyway, where is everyone?’ Dropping her voice to a whisper, ‘I saw the J person’s car outside. Which stone is she hiding under?’
Eva slanted her a meaningful look. ‘Don’s taken her and her friends to the Hive cafe for breakfast,’ she replied. After planting a bowl of fresh raspberries on the bar she added, ‘It might, in part, have been to get her away from me, because I’m afraid I had a bit of a scene with her last night.’
Groaning in sympathy, Olivia helped herself to a raspberry as she said, ‘So what was it about this time?’
Eva shrugged and brought two coffees to the bar. ‘The usual nonsense. She ended up smashing a bottle of wine on the floor, but it seems either she, or her friends, cleaned it up before they went to bed because there was no sign of it when I came down this morning. Anyway, how was everything at the shop yesterday? I meant to call before we went out last night, but time ran away with me.’
Olivia fanned her hands proudly. ‘Everything’s so cool that you’re going to start wondering any day now how you ever managed without me.’ Then, with a gloomier expression, ‘However, I’m afraid to say we didn’t get that many people through the door, so the takings aren’t terribly high. Oh, and wait for this, Zoe’s given in her notice.’
Eva looked surprised and concerned. ‘Has she got a better job? I thought she liked working with us – or with you, given that she only does Saturdays.’
‘Apparently her mother’s saying she has to focus more on her A-level coursework, because she didn’t have such great results when the last ones came through in August. Anyway, miss her as I will, I’m not sure it’s a bad thing, because at least we won’t have to pay her.’
Eva’s expression was pained. ‘That’s true, but honestly, Liv, things aren’t that bad yet and you need someone to help you on a Saturday, so we’ll put a notice in the window tomorrow.’
‘OK, and we’ll have to hope that our neighbourhood shoplifters don’t apply. They were hanging around again yesterday, eyeing up the jewellery, but don’t worry, they didn’t manage to get away with anything.’
‘The same girls who came in before?’
‘One of them was.’
With a sigh Eva said, ‘Don’t forget we have a hotline straight through to the police station, so if they do cause any trouble …’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll use it. Anyway, listen, I saw the Saturday Siesta last night. Mum showed me when I popped over there. She said you didn’t have any idea they were going to run that piece. How can they do that without your permission?’
Eva’s eyebrows rose. ‘I believe I’m considered public property,’ she replied, ‘or fair game, or whatever they want to call it. Amazing they think anyone would be interested after all this time.’
Unable to imagine anyone not being interested in her gorgeous aunt, Olivia said, ‘You know, what gets me, is that they obviously didn’t spare a thought for what it might stir up for you. I mean, they know what happened, they’ve even written about it, for God’s sake, so how could they have just gone ahead with it? If I were you, I’d sue. Do you think you can?’
Smiling, Eva said, ‘I’ve no idea, but I wouldn’t anyway. It’d only invite more publicity and that’s definitely not what I want.’
Olivia’s eyes shone with affection and understanding as she said, ‘We’re never going to let anything bad happen to you again, you know that, don’t you?’
Reaching for her hand, Eva squeezed it warmly. ‘Yes, I do,’ she replied.
Olivia slipped off the stool and drew her into a crushing embrace. ‘At least they spelled your name right – both names, in fact – and they picked some gorgeous shots of you,’ she declared as she sat down again. ‘I swear I could look at those photos all day, and I’d still want more. I guess that’s what made you famous. It’s so damned impossible to stop looking at you.’
‘Was,’ Eva corrected, putting it into the past tense. ‘And you’re biased.’
Olivia shrugged. ‘Maybe, but it’s still true.’ She watched Eva moving back to the sink to wash raspberry juice from her fingers, and felt so much love for her that she almost got up to hug her again. Though she was too young to have any clear memory of her aunt’s amazing career, or of what had happened to bring it to an end, Olivia did remember her coming to live with them when she, Olivia, was no more than five, and staying until this house was ready for her to move into. It was when the real bond between them had begun, and over the years it had become every bit as vital as the one she shared with her mother.
Catching Eva’s eye, she smiled.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Eva prompted suspiciously.
Realising she wasn’t exactly withdrawing, Olivia dared to say, ‘Mum told me about Nick Jensen, the photographer? He’s the one who saved you that night, isn’t he?’
Eva’s eyes went down, and so many seconds ticked by that Olivia was afraid she’d gone too far.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I shouldn’t have asked that.’
‘It’s OK,’ Eva told her, bringing her head up. ‘Yes, Nick was the one who saved me.’
Though Olivia knew from her mother that Eva had been very deeply in love with Nick Jensen she’d never been entirely clear about whether Nick had felt the same way. Nor had her mother ever elaborated on why Eva and Nick had parted, other than saying that it had happened around the time of the attack. That was Eva’s story to tell, her mother insisted, if and when she ever wanted to.
Was this the time, Olivia was asking herself. Probably not, with Don and Jasmine due back any minute. Nevertheless she heard herself saying, ‘What happened to Nick after, um, you know? I mean, I’ve read about how he turned up with Bobbie, your agent, and that he was the one who fought off Micky Bradshaw, but after that …’
‘The night of the attack,’ Eva said finally, ‘Nick was there before it happened because he’d come to tell me it was over between us. I was devastated, utterly beside myself … We had a terrible fight, and in the end he walked out. I didn’t know then that he’d gone to fetch Bobbie. She lived in the next block, and I suppose he thought she’d be able to calm me down … What they came back to … Well, I guess we should say thank God they did come, or we wouldn’t be sitting here talking about it now.’
Not even wanting to contemplate that, Olivia said, ‘So what happened to him? I mean, are you still in touch?’
‘No.’
In spite of knowing that the shortness of the reply should stop her, Olivia said, ‘Did he come to see you in hospital? I guess he must have.’
Though Eva was starting to seem tense, her voice was steady as she said, ‘No, he didn’t. He was married, you see, so our affair was secret, and somehow, in spite of all the publicity, he managed to keep it that way.’
Olivia’s heart skipped a beat. This was the first she’d heard about Nick Jensen being married. It explained the secrecy, obviously, but what else, she wondered. How would she know unless she asked, but did she dare to?
Eva’s smile was distant as unprompted she said, ‘I’m glad now that Nick stayed with his wife, because he clearly loved her. Someone like me, who’d never spared a thought for the woman she was deceiving, only for herself and the man she loved and how much she wanted him, really didn’t deserve him.’
Caught in a rush of naivety, Olivia cried, ‘No, you deserve a lot better. Who wants someone who cheats and lies and can
’t even be bothered to find out how you are when you’re in hospital? I know I wouldn’t.’
Eva swallowed hard and brought her eyes briefly to Olivia’s. ‘It was all a very long time ago,’ she reminded her.
For Olivia, who’d rarely dared to ask questions before, these revelations had the immediacy of the present, so not allowing herself to stop she said, ‘Do you know where he is now?’
Eva seemed surprised, then almost uninterested as she said, ‘The last I heard he’d moved his family to Italy and I think he opened a restaurant there, or perhaps it was a hotel.’
‘Family? So he had children?’
Eva frowned. ‘A little girl,’ she answered quietly. ‘He’s probably got more children by now. Who knows?’
Feeling desperately that Eva had missed out on having children of her own when she’d have made such a wonderful mum, Olivia resisted the temptation to ask if it was the attack that had ended her chances, since her mother had always made it very clear that this was another subject not to be discussed unless Eva chose to bring it up herself. As Eva never had, Olivia didn’t have the courage to go there now, so instead she said, ‘That sounds like he doesn’t work as a photographer any more.’
Eva shook her head. ‘Maybe he doesn’t,’ she replied. ‘I think Bobbie’s still in touch with him, but I don’t ask and she doesn’t tell. It’s best that way. It’s all in the past now …’ She trailed off for a moment, seeming caught in a deep inner world, until looking at Olivia again she said, ‘There’s no point to us being in touch. Apart from anything else I don’t think Don would like it too much.’ Her eyes were twinkling mischievously now, which made Olivia smile.
‘I guess they must have known one another though,’ Olivia ventured.
‘They certainly met,’ Eva confirmed. ‘With Don being the officer in charge of the case, that was inevitable, but as for saying they knew one another … After Micky Bradshaw pleaded guilty and was sent to Broadmoor, that was the end of the case, so there was no reason for Don and Nick to meet again. Between us though, I think Don took rather a dim view of Nick, but I guess that’s part jealousy, because he knows how much he meant to me, and part disapproval of the way Nick cheated on his wife.’