Mindsight

by Chris Curran

  I didn’t wait for her and was already sitting under the tree with the picnic spread out in front of me when she came into the garden, pulling off her jacket and smiling. ‘What’s wrong with the table?’ she asked.

  It was hard to keep back the tears so I looked down, gesturing to the blanket. ‘This is how we used to have picnics. Don’t you remember?’

  She sat beside me kicking off her shoes. ‘You’ve done egg and cress sandwiches, and that’s not lemon barley water, is it?’

  My voice wobbled. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Oh, Clare.’ She pulled me to her. She was very warm and smelled faintly of antiseptic. This was my sister, my real flesh and blood, and somewhere deep inside I had always known it.

  She reached for a sandwich. ‘Mmm, haven’t had egg and cress for so long.’

  I hadn’t expected to be able to eat, but now I was hungry. We ate and drank in silence for a while, but when she took a long drink and leaned back against the tree, I knew I had to speak.

  ‘I went to see Lorna yesterday and she told me something. Something unbelievable.’ My tone must have startled Alice because she raised herself on her knees, as if ready to jump up, and bumped her drink down on the grass beside her so quickly that it tipped over.

  I told her then, as plainly as Lorna had told me. She looked away for a long moment. ‘Alice?’

  She spoke without turning. ‘I’m all right. Tell me the rest. Everything she said.’

  There wasn’t much, and when I’d finished her face was pale. ‘I don’t know what to say. That changes everything, doesn’t it?’

  We went back inside, neither of us speaking, and I made coffee while Alice loaded the dishwasher. By the time we were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table she looked herself again. ‘Can you believe it?’ she said. ‘That he kept up the lie for so long, I mean. He was … well I don’t know what to call him.’

  ‘A lying, adulterous bastard?’ I said. ‘That’s the best I’ve come up with.’

  A tiny laugh. ‘Yes that’ll do.’

  We both sipped our coffee and I tried to catch her eye, but she was staring out into the garden. ‘I wonder if Mum guessed?’ she said.

  ‘That’s something we can never know. Like so much else.’

  ‘It was awful when you went away.’ She was still gazing out, the sunlight making her squint. ‘I was, what, ten, and you were the centre of my world, my big sister. At first I kept asking Mum where you were, when you were coming back, and she just said to ask Dad. Of course, he was never here, so it was hopeless. Then the odd times you did come home you were so different. I remember you smelled bad, and your hair looked awful, and you just stayed in your room.’

  I swallowed. She’d never said any of this before.

  ‘I used to save up things to tell you, but you never wanted to speak to me.’

  Although so much of that time was a blur for me, her words brought back a sudden memory. Little Alice, holding a plant pot and standing outside my bedroom door as I opened it. ‘Look, Clare, do you like my sunflower, I’m going to grow the tallest one in my class.’ That was what she said, or something like it, but I just pushed her out of the way, needing to get to the bathroom.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, years too late.

  She hardly seemed to hear. ‘Dad was away more and more, and Mum’s good days happened less and less often. If she wasn’t depressed, she was angry. Anything seemed to set her off and I remember her saying, more than once, that I was behaving just like you.’

  ‘So maybe she did guess we were really sisters. Poor Mum.’ I reached over and touched her arm. ‘And poor you.’

  ‘She was never as hard on me as she used to be on you, but I had to be so careful not to upset her and I was scared every time I came home from school.’ Her fears had been justified, because, one day, she did find our mother unconscious and she died that night.

  The silence stretched and finally Alice sighed and picked up our mugs. As she put them in the dishwasher she seemed to shake herself, and when she spoke her voice was lighter. ‘But that’s all in the past. This is nothing to be miserable about. We’re real sisters after all and that’s wonderful. I just wish we’d known it all those years ago.’

  She came to sit next me, her hand gripping mine and we were quiet for a while. Then she said, ‘But I suppose it answers the question about what happened that night. I mean if he was as stupid as to drop a bombshell like that, without preparing you, it must have been an enormous shock.’

  ‘I know.’ I moved to stand half out of the French windows, leaning on the door jamb. ‘And I’ve got to find a way to tell Tom.’

  She twisted towards me. ‘I was going to talk to you about him anyway. I’ve been worried about the way he’s going overboard with this accident stuff, so I spoke to my psychiatrist friend. To be honest, I think she feels we’ve made a mess of it so far.’

  ‘I have, you mean.’

  ‘No, both of us. Like you said at the start, I should have worked harder to make him see there was no point in thinking about what happened in the past. Should have talked to him more about the future. And I certainly shouldn’t have let him watch that bloody miscarriage of justice TV programme. Though how I could have stopped him from seeing it at Mark’s I don’t know.’

  She stood and went to the fridge. ‘The lemon barley water was lovely, Clare, but I think this calls for something a bit stronger.’ She poured us both a glass of white wine and we took them out to the table on the patio.

  After the half bottle of vodka I’d drunk the night before the wine didn’t tempt me, but Alice took a long drink then ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head. ‘I thought we were doing so well.’

  My head thumped again and the sunshine seemed to bore into my skull. It wasn’t her fault and here she was taking the blame. ‘I’m the one who should have dealt with it and it’s up to me to try to help Tom accept this. I just wish I knew how.’

  ‘Well, Emma, my friend, said we should go gently with him. Be as honest as we can, but don’t burden him with too much all at once. Above all, we need to show a united front to help him come to terms with it.’

  It made sense and we agreed I’d stay and see Tom in the evening and take the first steps towards telling him the truth.

  ‘It’s not going to be easy.’

  ‘He’ll understand, Clare. I’m sure he will. He’s begun to know you again – the real you – and he loves you so much.’

  ‘Does he?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  For a moment, we looked at each other, and Alice took my hand again. ‘It’s going to be all right. We’ll get through this together, you, me, and Tom,’ she whispered. Then she leaned over and kissed my cheek. ‘And thanks for the picnic, big sister. It was perfect.’

  Chapter Twenty

  We were in the kitchen when Tom burst through the front door, his face shining and pink. He was wearing his P.E. kit and trainers. His rucksack bounced on his back, the zip gaping wide, and he brought with him the unmistakable odour of steamy school changing rooms. The door slammed behind him as he beamed at me. ‘Hey, Mum, didn’t know you were coming.’

  He shrugged off his rucksack, narrowly missing the copper vase on the hall table, and throwing open the fridge to pour a glass of orange juice. Alice raised her eyebrows at me.

  ‘Before you do anything else, upstairs and in the shower,’ she said.

  He turned to her. ‘All right, cool it will you, let me talk to my mum first.’

  My breath caught in my throat and I looked from his face – so certain I was on his side – to Alice. She flushed and I said, ‘Please do as Alice says, Tom.’

  He stared at me for a long minute, his grey eyes sparking anger, his mouth set but betrayed by a tiny wobble from his chin. I had no idea what I’d do if he defied me. Then he turned away and slouched towards the stairs.

  ‘Okaaay, be like that. I just had something important to tell you, that’s all.’

  When he’d gone, Al
ice gave a huge sigh and shook her head, looking at me with clouded eyes.

  ‘Is he often like this?’ I said.

  ‘Not often, but more and more lately.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Well, he’s a teenager, so a bit of rebellion is only to be expected. You’ll have to be prepared for that when he comes to live with you again.’

  My heart gave a small skip at her use of the word when, but that wasn’t the issue now. ‘What can I do to help?’

  ‘Just what you did then – back me up. My divorced friends tell me it’s the kind of thing they get all the time – playing one parent off against the other.’

  Tom took a long time with his shower. Alice had some paperwork to do, andI got things ready for a spaghetti bolognaise. The glass of wine I hadn’t fancied earlier seemed very attractive now and I was onto my second, and back at the kitchen table pretending to read the paper, by the time Tom appeared in jeans, bare feet, and a T-shirt, his damp hair sticking up in spikes. I tried to keep my face neutral.

  He shuffled from foot to foot. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You should say that to Alice, not me.’

  ‘OK.’ I heard him speaking quietly in her little office and her answering, ‘All right, that’s fine then. Go and tell your mum what was so important.’

  I tried to look interested, although I could hardly focus on anything for the voice in my head telling me to get it over with and explain what Lorna had said.

  ‘You know you were writing to Mr Hillier?’ he said.

  ‘Yes and I’ve done that. He should have got it by now.’

  He pulled up a chair and sat down, leaning across the table at me and passing me a scrap of paper. ‘Well, he’s in the Cumbria area phone book and I’ve found his number. So there’s no need to wait for him to write back. We can ring him.’

  That was the last thing I wanted to think about. ‘But he’ll only just have got the letters.’

  ‘I know, that’s why I think we should put some pressure on him. And, Mum, I’ve been thinking about that DVD and I really want to see it.’ I tried to speak, but he rushed on. ‘I promise I won’t get upset, but I might spot something you’ve missed.’ He looked at me, his eyes sparkling. ‘Is that OK?’

  I tried to speak slowly, to calm us both. ‘There’s something I need to tell you before we even think about doing anything else.’

  He sat up, completely alert again. ‘What?’

  I didn’t tell him about Dad and Lorna, there was no need, just what he had told her about my parentage. Tom listened calmly enough, nodding when I said Granddad must have had an affair with my birth mother and had invented the story about Romania to cover it up. ‘So Granddad was my real father and your real grandfather,’ I said.

  Alice had obviously been listening in because she came behind Tom and put her hand on his shoulder, rubbing it as she smiled at me. ‘And that also means your mum and I are actually sisters and you, my lad, are my genuine nephew.’

  He twisted to look at her. ‘So you’re really my aunt? Hey that’s cool.’ He jumped up.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I said.

  ‘To get my phone, tell Mark.’

  He bounded upstairs and Alice laughed. ‘Well, that went all right. And to think we were so worried.’

  I got up and started to fry the onions and garlic I’d chopped earlier. ‘He hasn’t realised what it could mean, though. I still have to find a way to explain how it changes everything.’

  ‘But not yet. Leave it to sink in for a few days.’

  I added the mince and spoke above the splutter of frying. ‘He might work it out for himself, of course, and that would probably be for the best.’

  ‘Yes, and it’s got to be easier if he’s had time to think it through when you do explain it fully to him.’

  ‘What have you got to explain to me, Mum?’ Tom’s voice booming out made me jump. His arms were crossed and his look fierce. Alice glanced at me, but didn’t speak.

  There was nothing for it. A tiny noise from Alice suggested she might want me to hold back, but I had promised to tell him the truth. I took a deep breath and leaned against the worktop. ‘It’s great we’re a real family, and I’m so happy about that but, according to Lorna, my dad was planning to tell me the news around the time of the wedding.’ Seeing him about to say something I spoke quickly. ‘If he told me such incredible news during the reception, then I might have been really upset and that could explain why I took those pills, which is the one thing I’ve never understood. ’

  He moved restlessly. ‘But why would you be upset?’

  The pan behind me spluttered fiercely and I moved to stir the meat and turn down the gas. ‘Because he’d kept it a secret for so long. You see, it would have meant so much to me, when I was younger, and to Alice as well. And he could have told me years before.’

  ‘So …?’

  Alice took a can of tomatoes from the cupboard. ‘Come on, Tom, leave it now. There’s plenty of time to talk it all through.’

  ‘Mum?’ His arms were crossed again, his face set.

  I moved towards him. ‘Do you remember what I said that day in the woods when we talked about all this? I told you drug addicts can go back to their old ways after years and years, if something bad happens.’ I was aware of Alice behind me, tipping the tomatoes into the pan and grinding in salt and pepper.

  I knew she thought I should leave it, but I couldn’t stop. I wanted so much to see that bitter look gone from Tom’s eyes. ‘It would have been a huge shock to learn that everything I’d thought about myself, and where I came from, was a lie. And it was just the kind of thing the police thought must have happened.’

  His face became harder, hands clenching at his sides. ‘So I suppose that means you’re giving up. Not even gonna try and remember anything else? Well fine.’ He headed for the stairs, turning back at the bottom to call to Alice, ‘And I’m not hungry.’

  I watched him go, longing to run after him, to force him to understand, but he was gone, and when I looked back at Alice she shook her head. ‘Best leave him for a bit.’

  When the food was ready we called him, but he didn’t answer. Alice told me again to let him be, but I went up and knocked on his door. ‘Tom, will you come down? I have to go as soon as we’ve eaten.’

  There was no answer.

  Stella took one look at me next morning and gestured to the little back room. ‘Look,’ she said, closing the door, ‘whatever’s happening in your life is none of my business and I knew when I took you on that you might find things difficult, but it’s obvious you’re not coping.’

  I explained I was having problems with Tom and promised to pull myself together at work, although I knew my weary tone was unlikely to reassure her.

  She rubbed my forearm. ‘I know what kids can be like – you wouldn’t believe the trouble I had with Harriet when she was that age. But, Clare, this business is my livelihood, and my daughter’s, and I can’t afford to carry passengers. You started so well, but we can’t go on like this. Please try to focus a bit more while you’re here.’

  I managed to bite back my tears and gave her a nod and some kind of smile, and we left it at that. She was out most of the day and it was quiet, so I got through it somehow.

  Back at the house, on the hall table there was a handwritten letter addressed to Mrs C. Glazier, and when I turned it over I saw it was from Mr Hillier. I ripped it open as I walked inside.

  I was still taking the single sheet of paper from the envelope when I looked up and noticed the room: the books on the floor, the upturned chairs, the scattered cushions.

  For a moment I was confused. How could this have happened? A piece of furniture or a heavy book falling and causing some kind of chain reaction? A seagull trapped in the room? Finally my brain jolted to life again. I’d been burgled.

  The flat was silent and I went round every room, checking that all the windows were closed and locked. Nothing else seemed to have been touched and eventually I began tidying t
he living room. I wasn’t going to call the police, so fingerprints and other evidence didn’t matter. And it looked as if they hadn’t taken anything, just made a mess. For some reason this upset me even more.

  There was a scrunched up ball of paper in the middle of the sofa and when I flattened it out I saw it was Tom’s list of questions for Mr Hillier and Jacob Downes, thrown from where I’d left them by the laptop. I felt a surge of anger that anyone should tamper with his stuff and took the paper to the bedroom, putting it into his folder in the drawer.

  It was then I realised something was missing – Emily’s wedding video.

  The phone rang and, while I was looking for the handset amidst the mess, Alice’s voice cut in sounding tight and high. ‘Clare, are you there?’ When I answered she said, ‘Oh thank God – it’s Tom. After last night I told him to come straight home from school, but he’s not here. I’ve rung his friends and apparently he left school after registration and none of them has seen him since. He’s not come to you, has he?’

  ‘No, he hasn’t. Have you called the police?’

  ‘Not yet, it’s too soon.’

  ‘He’s only thirteen.’

  ‘I know, but he’s done this a couple of times before and that’s what they’ve told me. I shouldn’t worry, Clare. I’m sure he’ll be back when he gets hungry. Just stay where you are in case he comes there and I’ll try to think of anyone else I can ring.’

  I wanted to ask why she hadn’t told me about his disappearances, but this wasn’t the time. We agreed we would both stay where we were in case he came to either place. ‘I’ll call you if he’s not back by dark,’ she said.

  She had more patience than I did, and when I heard jazz from upstairs I knocked on Kieran’s door. He was obviously just out of the shower, wearing only a towel around his waist, his hair wet and standing up in jagged points, but I was too anxious to be embarrassed. My face must have told it all because he asked, ‘What’s wrong?’

  When I tried to turn away, apologising for my bad timing, he was having none of it. ‘Stop that now,’ he said. ‘What’s happened?’