Someone Like me

by Lesley Cheetham

  ‘Jasmine, let me try and explain. Your mother and I were having problems; we had been for a long time. I behaved badly. Caroline refused to let me see you. Maybe I should have tried harder, but even my own mother cut me out of her life, she adored Caroline, she always had. She’s never met Malika.’

  ‘So why have you got in touch with Mum now after all this time?’

  ‘Caroline contacted me.’

  ‘No she didn’t! She told me that you needed to get some documents from Gran.’ As I was speaking I could see from his expression that Mum had lied to me. I sat back down, the breath taken out of me.

  ‘She contacted me completely out of the blue to let me know my mother was ill. She said Mum had been talking about me, reminiscing.’ I could picture the scene, Mum often started rambling down the phone after a few glasses of wine. ‘Naturally I asked about you, I told her I would like to see you but she refused to talk about it. She rang me the next day and told me to forget that she had rung, but it was too late by then. I went to see Mum in the care home.’ He screwed up his face. ‘That was hard. I’ve always hoped she would agree to meet Malika but she refused. She wasn’t very rational though, she was all over the place. She loves you so much, Jasmine, I think she thought she would be betraying you if she let another grandchild into her life. I know how involved she has been in your upbringing.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell Malika about me sooner?’

  ‘Once Sara was pregnant and I had been outcast by my family I cut off all ties. Sara knew about you of course, but she knew I didn’t want to talk about it. The question of telling Malika didn’t really arise. I suppose I hoped I would never have to deal with the situation. Burying my head in the sand, as usual, hoping things would go away.’

  ‘Like telling Malika six months ago?’

  ‘I know, I know. I always meant to tell her, but I kept putting it off and before I knew it she was a teenager already. But she’s a great kid, I knew she’d look out for you; she’s a very kind person.’ He paused. ‘Sara has had her own problems to deal with and Malika is fiercely protective of her. She must get that from her mother – it certainly doesn’t come from me.’

  Silence filled the room. Not an uncomfortable silence. What he had said made sense, it fitted with what Mum had said about him leaving. It didn’t mean I forgave him.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and Malika sat back down.

  ‘I’ve been trying to apologise,’ Michael said, looking at her. ‘I apologise to you too, for not telling you about Jasmine earlier.’

  ‘I forgive you,’ she said, ‘but you’ll do it again won’t you? You’re always so secretive.’

  ‘No I’m not,’ he said. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Like when I ask exactly what it is you do at work and you refuse to talk about it. Or what about when you went to Belgium?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The trip you went on at the end of May. You missed my birthday, remember?’ Michael shifted about on his chair, then stood up. Malika carried on talking. ‘You were gone longer than usual and when I asked about it you bit my head off. I wanted to know what was so important that you had to miss my birthday. I get now why you would never talk about England but it hurt me every time you shut me out. I just wanted to find out about my roots and what makes me who I am. Like Mum and her Moroccan side – I’ve gone really far back with my family tree for that side of the family, but I know next to nothing about you.’

  Michael held his hands up in the air and went to the door. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. ‘Girls, I’m sorry. I’ll try and make it up to you, both of you.’ He stood up and walked out of the room.

  Malika’s face was flushed. I’d never seen her so distressed before.

  ‘Let’s go out,’ I said. ‘Show me the area. Forget about Michael.’

  She smiled ruefully. We both knew it would be impossible to think about anything else.

  It was early evening and the area was buzzing. Little grocers shops with racks of colourful fruit and veg were still open, interspersed with smart clothes and jewellery shops, some of which had started the process of winding down for the evening. The tables outside the cafes were still full of people, drinking coffees and beers, heated discussions were taking place with old men in fishing jackets gesticulating at one another, smoking furiously. Buses and cars hurtled down the street and people headed purposefully towards the nearest Metro station, St Paul, disappearing down the steps into the tunnels underneath our feet.

  ‘Would you like an ice cream?’ Malika asked.

  I shook my head. My throat was too tight. She linked her arm through mine.

  ‘A drink then,’ she said. She led me down a side street to a little bar with a couple of tables outside. ‘You sit here,’ she said. I pulled a chair sideways so that the sun’s rays fell on my face, warming me outside, but having no effect on my cold insides. Michael’s words were still swimming around in my head. Malika emerged with two glasses and poured us each some water from a carafe on the table.

  I watched her as she carefully licked her ice cream, she was so unlike any of my friends at home.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.

  ‘You,’ I said. ‘I’m trying to understand what it must be like for you, living with Michael, then me turning up. Are you angry with him?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not angry, disappointed. I wish he could have been honest with me – and Maman – all along. ‘He made mistakes, yes, but it was a long time ago now.’

  ‘How can you say that? Time doesn’t mean it’s any less wrong.’

  She frowned. ‘I meant we must put the mistakes behind us – good things have come out of it after all. I’ve met you.’

  ‘I thought it would be hard for you finding out about your Grandma.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Grandma taking Mum’s side and refusing to see you. He said he always wanted her to meet you.’ Realisation dawned on me. ‘That’s what Gran meant, last time I went. You’re the other one.’

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about. Besides, she’s not related to me. There’s no reason for her to want to see me.’

  I stared at her. ‘She’s Michael’s mother. Your grandmother. Our grandmother,’ I added quietly.

  Malika’s eyes widened. ‘But I thought my grandparents were dead! Isn’t she your maternal grandmother?’ I shook my head. ‘How could he do that?’ Her face seemed to fall apart.

  I talked rapidly. ‘Gran adored Mum and when they split up she blamed Michael completely. She took Mum’s side. She knew about the other woman and refused to speak to him again. Now she has Alzheimer’s and has to live in a home. Gran told me Michael had been to see her. Sometimes now she doesn’t recognise me but last time was awful. She shouted at me and said she’d told Michael that she didn’t want to see me. She must have got confused and thought I was you. She screamed at me to get out… the nurse told me he’d been in to see her just the week before.’ Surprise registered on Malika’s face. ‘I’m sorry Malika, I didn’t realise you didn’t know who Gran was.’

  Malika was crying, her ice cream forgotten and dripping into the cornet. I took it from her and dumped the remains in the ashtray on the table and put my hand on her arm.

  ‘Please don’t cry. Gran will come round. I’ll talk to her when she’s having one of her lucid moments – she’ll see you if I ask her – when I tell her what a lovely person you are.’ A tear was threatening to emerge and I rubbed furiously at my eyes. ‘I can show you a photo if you like.’ I rummaged around in my bag for my phone. Malika sniffed.

  ‘I’d like that.’

  I scrolled through my photographs, looking for Gran. I wanted to find a photo that would do her justice.

  ‘When did Papa visit her?’ she asked. ‘How recently was it?’

  ‘About a month ago,’ I said, calculating quickly in my head.

  ‘But Michael hasn’t been to England for years. He told me, it
’s taken him so long to agree to move back there. I thought you were mistaken when you mentioned it earlier.’

  I closed my eyes, thinking for a moment, ‘When did Michael go to Belgium?’ I asked. ‘The exact date.’

  ‘That’s easy,’ she said, ‘it was my birthday. I was really upset that he missed my party. All my friends came and he wasn’t there.’

  ‘The date?’ I reminded her.

  ‘May 25th of course. My fourteenth birthday.’

  CHAPTER 22

  That was the moment I knew I had to tell her. First I gave her a handkerchief and went into the café. In schoolgirl French I think I managed to order an orange juice and a glass of white wine. The woman pointed to the table which I took to mean she would bring the drinks outside and I went back to Malika.

  She looked more composed now. She was re-pinning her headscarf and managed a sort of smile. Next she picked up my phone and used it as a mirror, reapplying the smudged black kohl around her eyes.

  ‘Better?’ I asked. She nodded. The woman from the café came out at that moment carrying a tray and put our drinks, plus a tray of green olives down on the table. She tucked a piece of paper under the plate and went back inside.

  ‘I hope you’ve got enough money for that,’ she said. ‘Is that wine?’

  I nodded. ‘I’ve got quite a few bad habits you’re going to find out about sooner or later.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘I guessed as much.’

  I took a sip of my wine, suddenly thinking of Mum. Had she left for New York yet? I had lost track of time. Maybe she was flying over Paris right now.

  ‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ I said, taking another gulp of my drink, pushing the fat green olives away. ‘It’s about Michael but you absolutely have to be sworn to secrecy.’ She nodded. ‘I mean it,’ I said. ‘It could have serious consequences otherwise.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ she asked.

  So I told her everything. Different expressions flickered across her face as I told her what had happened since I had seen Michael on Crimewatch. At the first mention of the programme she sat very still. Eventually she spoke.

  ‘I won’t say anything because I absolutely know my father is innocent. He would never do anything like that. He may be a liar and a cheat but…’

  ‘It doesn’t sound too good when you put it like that,’ I joked.

  ‘…but he would never do such a terrible thing. And think about it. If he knew he was wanted in England why would he even think about moving back there? We have to find out what exactly he was doing. Why are you smiling? This isn’t a funny situation.’

  ‘I was just thinking how I had exactly the opposite reaction, but don’t forget when I saw him on TV I had only just found out that Mum had been in touch with him again. Now do you understand why I wanted to meet him? I have to know why he didn’t stay and speak to the police.’

  ‘If it was him.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’

  ‘Well, we need to find out exactly what he did that weekend. Why did he say he was in Belgium? Do you think Sara would know anything? That’s the first thing you can do, try and see what she knows.’ I remembered the photograph. ‘I also have something else I need to show you.’

  ‘Tell me again about this boy Khaled. Do you think he is suspicious?’

  ‘He did lie about where he was to Fiona but I don’t think that counts.’ Malika pulled a face. ‘I don’t mean his behaviour isn’t wrong but I think hiding the fact that he was two-timing Fiona was his main motivation. However, according to Mark he went somewhere that weekend and came back covered in mud. Where Miriam disappeared was very muddy but so are a lot of places. We need to find out where he went that evening and why he couldn’t even tell Mark.’

  ‘Did Mark know he had another girlfriend?’

  I thought for a moment. ‘That’s a good point. I don’t know. If he did then there would be no reason not to tell him. I can find that out. Tess can ask him for me. The other thing about Michael is why did he leave the scene after finding the body? If, as you say, he is innocent, what did he not want the police to find out?’

  Malika bent down and took her laptop out of her bag, then set it down on the table. ‘Can you show me the Crimewatch footage? She opened the laptop lid, then shut it again quickly. ‘This is our father we are talking about – are we really doing the right thing?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Why are we doing this?’

  ‘I want to clear his name.’

  ‘And I want to find out the truth.’

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘so let’s get on with it.’

  We sat and watched the footage from the episode of Crimewatch which had turned my life upside down. I was holding my breath as it reached the moment where the photograph was shown, suddenly convinced I’d been mistaken all along. Malika gasped when she saw it, her hand flying to her mouth. She turned to me, panic in her eyes.

  ‘It really is him! I was hoping that you were wrong but there is absolutely no doubt about that picture. Even with the beard.’

  ‘Let me show you something else I found,’ I said. I pulled out the photograph and handed it to her. ‘This was the first time I saw Sara,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t very pleased either, I’d wanted her to be horrid but she looks lovely. As she is, actually.’

  Malika was staring at the photograph. ‘Have you looked at this photograph since you came to Paris?’ she asked.

  ‘No, why?’

  She held it out to me. ‘Because this isn’t my mother,’ she said. ‘Look closely, there’s a resemblance alright but I’d know this face anywhere. This woman is my aunt.’

  The colour was draining out of her face.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘This is my aunt, Nora, my mum’s sister.’ She pointed at the photograph and I noticed how her hands were shaking. ‘She is five years younger than my mother and she came to France from Morocco at the same time as my mother. They were very close and I know all about her, yet I have never met her. Nora disappeared before I was born.’

  ‘What do you mean disappeared?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Exactly that. She vanished. She didn’t turn up for work one day and has never been seen since. Maman was devastated, the whole family were. The police looked into it but you know they say she is an adult, what can they do? Where did you get this?’

  ‘Gran had it. The nurse found it after Michael visited the care home. He must have dropped it. But at least it’s quite reasonable for Michael to have this picture.’ I was relieved.

  ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘it’s not normal at all. Look at this photo! You thought it was Maman. Nora looked much younger than this when she disappeared. This is a much more recent photo. Don’t you see? This means that she is still alive! I have to go and ask Papa where he got this!’

  I grabbed her arm.

  ‘No! You can’t! If you let him know we’re suspicious about him he’ll be on his guard all the time. Please, Malika, don’t say anything, at least not for a while.’

  She stared hard at the photograph, as if her gaze could bring it to life. When she looked up at me her eyelashes were wet with tears.

  ‘I can’t believe this. Maybe you’re right, maybe Papa isn’t so innocent after all.’

  CHAPTER 23

  ‘There’s the fountain,’ Malika pointed to an old monument surrounded by tourists. It was just like the one at Piccadilly Circus. ‘The internet café is there, I’ll meet you back here in an hour, OK?’

  I nodded. Ten minutes later I was logged onto my email account. Tess had replied almost immediately to my last reply.

  Hi Jas,

  You won’t believe how antsy Khaled has got! He cornered me and made me promise not to tell anyone about Miriam. I said of course I wouldn’t (you don’t count and he doesn’t need to know that you know.) Mark said he seems really distracted in rehearsals, which is so out of character – he normally takes charge of the band. That girl Sadie’s broth
er has joined the band now; in fact his whole family have gone on holiday to Ibiza and he persuaded his parents to let him stay home alone while they’re away – just so he can join the band. He’s a good keyboard player so Mark’s pretty pleased. Talking of Mark, he keeps asking about you!!! Is there something you’re not telling me?!! How’s it going in Paris? Have you been up the Eiffel Tower yet?

  Details please ASAP!

  Tess

  So Sadie was on holiday. I pushed the thought away – Sadie was out of my life now – it was ironic that she was creeping onto the edges of our investigation. I owed Tess a reply. I checked the time; I still had half an hour left, before I had to meet Malika back at the fountain.

  Hi Tess,

  Paris is not bad so far but I haven’t climbed any towers and have no intention of doing so! I have seen the Eiffel Tower and various other famous places but it is far more interesting where the hotel is. There are cafes everywhere and the traffic is crazy; people honk their horns ALL the time. Most people speak English luckily, I never was any good at French!

  My family – where to start? It was very awkward with Michael at first but some of the things I have found out about what he did make it easier. His wife Sara is OK, she’s from Morocco originally, very pretty and nice so it’s hard not to like her. I know you will scream loudly when you read this but I have a sister! A real half-sister and she is a Muslim! Her name is Malika and I am totally freaked out as you can imagine. We get on really well and I have told her EVERYTHING. She didn’t know about me either so there is a lot of family stuff going on and lots of slamming doors, but me and Malika are sticking together. I think she can help with the Crimewatch stuff. Gotta go,