Looking For Lucy

by Julie Houston

  ‘That is enough, Lucy,’ I hissed. ‘You need to go…’

  ‘Enough? Oh, you’ve had enough? Already? Hang on, Clem, I’ve not got to the best bit. You’ll need to know what to charge for full sex, especially with the Saturday afternoon punters who drop off their wives in town and, instead of going to Costa for a coffee and a custard slice like they’ve said, come straight down under the arches for a quickie…’

  Lucy continued to pace the kitchen but seemed to have run out of steam. She folded her arms, leaned against the huge centre island and glared at me.

  ‘And if I hadn’t taken her, Lucy? What then?’ I was angry now. ‘We’ve been through all this so many times before. If I hadn’t taken Allegra, agreed to give up my work, give up everything and moved back in with Mum and Dad with her in order to become her legal guardian, you know what would have happened. She’d have been given up for adoption like we were and then you would never have seen her.’

  ‘But I… I lent her to you. It was always meant to be temporary, until I sorted myself out.’ Lucy’s eyes narrowed. ‘But you’ve taken it one hell of a step further, haven’t you? You’ve fucking well stolen her. You always thought you were better than me, didn’t you? Always the goody-goody. Always sucking up to Mum and Dad and the teachers. God I can still hear it now, those bloody teachers.’ Lucy adopted a high authoritative tone: ‘“Why can’t you be more like Clementine, Lucy?” “How is it that you are identical twins and yet Clementine is an angel and you are a little devil, Lucy?”’ She glared at me again and then suddenly moved over to the table, picked up her glass and downed the wine in one.

  ‘Lucy…’ I put my hand out to her. ‘Lucy, you are my sister. I love you and I’ve always loved you, but we have to think about Allegra.’

  ‘You came looking for me, didn’t you? Sheena, down on Emerald Street, told me you’d been sniffing around, trying to find where I was.’

  ‘Oh, she told you, did she? Good. I certainly wasn’t sniffing around. I needed to know where you were, Lucy. I was desperately worried about what you were doing, who you were with, whether you were even alive. You made no attempt to keep in touch with me; you didn’t even try to see Allegra. I moved us down into a little house at the bottom end of town, near Emerald House, so that you might realise where we were and keep in contact with us. But you disappeared, Lucy. For years, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Does she know about me?’ Lucy asked, frowning. ‘She does know you’re not her real mother, doesn’t she? That you’re just her auntie…’

  ‘Lucy…’ I was frightened now. ‘Lucy…’

  ‘She doesn’t, does she? She doesn’t fucking know. She thinks you’re her mother… Jesus, you’ve never told her.’ Lucy slammed the glass down onto the kitchen unit. ‘OK, where is she? Upstairs?’

  ‘Lucy, please… not like this.’ I put my hand out to stop her moving towards the door that led upstairs to the bedrooms and she brushed it aside.

  Suddenly all the fight seemed to go out of her ‘Clem, I just want to see her. Please? I promise I won’t disturb her. But you have to let me see my little girl.’

  I really didn’t know what to do, but I was terrified that if I didn’t let her see Allegra, she’d run upstairs anyway. ‘Look, Lucy,’ I said, trying to speak calmly. ‘I’m going to take you up to Allegra’s room, I’m going to go in there first and then I’m going to let you peep round the door. That’s all. Now, do you promise me you won’t try to do anything else?’

  ‘I promise, Clem, I promise. Just let me see her…’

  Together, we tiptoed up the stairs to the pink boudoir. Allegra’s door was never closed—she liked to be able to slip into my bed in the next room in the middle of the night—and I went in and across to her bed. The curtains were closed against the summer evening sunshine, but the room was light, a soft breeze ruffling the rose-pink material as she slept. I kneeled beside her and glanced towards the bedroom door, knowing that Lucy would be able to take a peep at Allegra from her stance behind it.

  Allegra stirred in her sleep and I prayed she wouldn’t wake. Her breathing became deep and regular again and I tucked Hector elephant into her arms before standing up and walking to the door.

  ‘Shh,’ I whispered, as Lucy began to say something. ‘Just wait until we get downstairs. I don’t want Allegra or Max to wake.’

  ‘Max?’

  ‘My stepson.’

  ‘Your stepson? So where’s the father?’ Lucy glanced at my ring finger as we began to tiptoe back downstairs. ‘Where’s your husband?’

  ‘He’s dead.’ I paused. ‘As is the children’s mother. They were killed together in a car accident last October. I have parental responsibility for both him and his sister.’

  ‘So you have three children?’ Lucy stared at me as we got to the bottom of the stairs. ‘But none of them are yours? So, if you have three and none of them are really yours, then you won’t mind giving me back Allegra who really is mine.’

  ‘Lucy,’ I hissed, taking her arm and pushing her into the kitchen. ‘Don’t even think about it. I am Allegra’s legal guardian, the only mother she has ever known and, I’m telling you right now, she stays with me.’

  Lucy shook off my arm. ‘You’ve done a good job; I can see that. She looks beautiful. I’m going ahead with this, Clem. I’m going to get her back.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Sophie walked into the kitchen with Sam. ‘There’s some guy in a car on the drive, Clem. When Sam asked him what he was doing he said he was waiting for someone inside… Oh my God, I don’t have to ask who that someone is. Is this your sister, Clem?’

  ‘I’m going, Clem.’ Lucy looked Sophie up and down—at her long shiny blonde plait hanging over her shoulder, at her now-clear skin, at her white teeth held in place by the ubiquitous brace. ‘I looked like you once, kid,’ she said and, without a backward glance at me, strode from the kitchen.

  I realised I was trembling and sat down heavily at the kitchen table.

  ‘I’ll get you some water,’ Sam said, walking over to the sink.

  ‘I think she needs gin,’ Sophie said. ‘Jesus, Clem, she didn’t look too good, did she? She’s so thin. And her teeth… they’re all brown…’

  ‘Heroin gives you a craving for sugary foods,’ I said vaguely, my mind racing. ‘And every time she manages to get off heroin, she’ll be given a methadone prescription. It’s still a drug, and opiates can attack the enamel. Methadone is taken orally as a syrup and the sugar doesn’t help…’ I trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Why the hell was I discussing oral hygiene like a dental lecturer when I was going to lose Allegra? I looked at the kitchen clock and was surprised to see it was only nine-thirty. A whole lifetime seemed to have passed in the twenty minutes that Lucy had been here. I needed to speak to someone who could help.

  ‘Why was she here, Clem? What did she want?’

  ‘Oh, just a social visit,’ I lied. ‘She saw one of the articles in the paper about Clementine’s and was able to come and find me.’

  ‘Yes, but what does she want, Clem? She didn’t look all that sociable to me. She’s not trying to blackmail you or anything is she?’

  ‘Blackmail me? No, no, Sophie. She has nothing to blackmail me about. You know that she’s been heavily into drugs—you know all that. She seems to have been off them for a while now and feels that we can get together again. She deliberately kept out of my way when she was on the streets, on the drugs…’ I trailed off again lamely, my head pounding. ‘Look, you two, will you be all right to keep an eye on the kids and everything here? I’m going to take George for a walk. Get some fresh air…’ And then, as an afterthought I said, ‘Just keep the doors locked, won’t you?’

  Sophie stared at me. ‘The doors locked? You never even keep them closed. You’re frightening me now, Clem. You’re frightened, I can see.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, smiling. ‘I’m just going to check on the children and then I’ll take George out for ten minutes.’

  ‘You go, Clem
,’ Sam said, flexing his gym-toned muscles. ‘We’ll be fine.’

  I ran upstairs, popped my head around Max’s door and then moved onto Allegra’s room again. Oh, Jesus, I should have told Allegra. As soon as she was big enough to understand, I should have told her that I wasn’t her real mummy. And I really, really had intended to do that. I’d become Allegra’s legal guardian in order that the authorities didn’t take her and put her with foster parents. I hadn’t really wanted to take her on, didn’t want to move back in with my parents and look after a tiny helpless baby. Hadn’t wanted to give up my work at the La Toque Blanche where I’d just been promoted to sous-chef, actually being fully in charge when Gianni wasn’t there. But Lucy had begged me, made me promise to take Allegra until she was off the drugs and was able to take care of her herself.

  And I had.

  *

  We ran, George and I, running across the summer fields until we were exhausted. George who, because I’d been so ridiculously busy, hadn’t been getting the exercise he needed, was obviously in his element, crashing through the cornfields, jumping the broken dry-stone walls, his pink tongue lolling comically as he ran. I knew I was running towards David, needing to tell someone I could trust about what was happening, someone who was a grownup and would know what to do.

  Mandy was out in the garden, gloves on her beautifully manicured hands, striped-blue cotton cut-offs showing off her long brown legs and pert little behind. I hesitated, not really wanting to talk to her. While she’d always been unfailingly polite and friendly towards me, there was something about her that didn’t lend itself to her being a Samaritan, to having a listening ear. Or maybe it was the simple fact that I was in love with her husband.

  I made to retrace my steps back down the drive, back to the lane and the fields once more, but George had other ideas. With a joyous yelp, he raced across the lawn, partially demolished a bed of peonies and hollyhocks, lifted his leg dismissively against a blackcurrant bush and lay, tail wagging and a ridiculous grin on his hairy black face, at Mandy’s feet.

  Mandy jumped back, startled at the sudden appearance of a great hairy beast in her garden.

  ‘Good God,’ I heard her shout, before turning to see if there was anyone with George. Shielding her eyes against the setting sun, she spotted me at the edge of the lawn and raised her hand.

  ‘Clementine, this is a nice surprise,’ she called. ‘Come and sit down. I don’t seem to have seen you for ages.’

  ‘Er, it’s fine, really, Mandy. I was just out for a walk and George obviously decided to turn it into a social call.’

  ‘But you were on your way here?’ Mandy asked pleasantly, her tone indicating she was well aware there could have been no other plan.

  ‘Er, well…’

  ‘Was it David you were hoping to see?’

  ‘I was just out for a walk, Mandy, that’s all.’

  ‘Because I’m afraid he’s not here. He’s in Milan with Nick.’

  ‘Right, OK. Thank you. There was something I needed to talk to him about—just a little something about er… er insurance policies for Clementine’s. But it really doesn’t matter. Goodness, what wonderful… wonderful…’ Shit, what were they called? ‘… Blue flower thingies you have.’

  ‘Ceanothus?’ Mandy asked, raising her immaculately threaded eyebrows.

  Gosh, how did anyone get their eyebrows to behave so well? ‘That’s the one, Mandy. Right, George, come on, we don’t want to come between a woman and her Ceanothus.’ I knew I was rambling, but I really didn’t want to talk to her. Didn’t want to indulge in polite chitchat that might involve mention of the man I’d lusted after for well over a year. I knew if she started talking about him, I’d be unable to stop myself from blushing like a ridiculous lovesick adolescent.

  ‘Actually, Clementine, there is something I’d like to have a quick word with you about?’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes. Now, how can I phrase this?’ She smiled, but her amazingly navy eyes were not friendly. ‘David, as I’m sure you realise, is an amazingly charismatic man…’

  Even as I knew exactly where this conversation was heading, I couldn’t believe that here was a woman calling her own husband ‘amazingly charismatic.’ ‘Lovely’ ‘kind’ ‘a friend to all, man and beast’ maybe, but ‘amazingly charismatic’? Give over.

  ‘People—men and women alike—adore him. Now, women particularly fall for him. Think they’re in love with him. Indeed, think that he’s in love with them—’ she gave a little tinkle of laughter at the very thought ‘—and get terribly hurt when that, that emotion can never be reciprocated. Do you understand what I’m saying, Clementine? We really couldn’t bear you to be under some misguided illusion, after what you have been through, you poor, poor girl, in the last year or so…’

  Horribly embarrassed, I managed to muster as much dignity as I could, well, muster, and raised my own—desperately unthreaded—eyebrows in her direction. ‘I’m really not sure what you’re getting at here, Mandy, but let me assure you I have never assumed there to be anything other than a working relationship between myself and David.’ I could feel my face flaming as well as my nose assume Pinocchio proportions. ‘Please assure David, if you are in contact with him, I will sort out the insurance issue myself—it really isn’t a problem.’

  I smiled in what I hoped was a gracious manner and made to take a swift exit, head held high. Which, had George not decided to take advantage of the beautifully soft, velvet-green grass and taken a protracted and obviously highly satisfactory dump in the middle of Mandy’s lawn, I would have done.

  I walked as far as the bottom of the Hendersons’ drive before I allowed the tears to fall and once I started crying I couldn’t stop. Huge fat tears splashed wetly down my face and, unchecked, fell down on to my white shirt. I made my way blindly across the fields, falling over a couple of times which made me howl more. I didn’t think I’d cried like this for years. I’d lost my sister, I was about to lose Allegra and I’d stupidly thought I might have a chance with David Henderson. You stupid, stupid bitch, I berated myself as I walked, head down, not really looking where I was going. Why hadn’t I told Allegra from day one that I wasn’t her real mother? How in God’s name was I going to break it to her, now that she was almost six years old?

  ‘Would you like porridge for breakfast, Allegra? Have you read your reading book today? Oh, and by the way, would you like to meet your real mother, darling? Yes, she does look a bit like me, doesn’t she?’

  Unconcerned, George ran ahead, sniffing badger trails, chasing rabbits, lifting his leg delightedly against bushes and trees as he went. He stopped suddenly, mid-sniff, and, without warning, retraced his steps before racing off at a tangent in quite the opposite direction to home.

  I whistled—the best way one can whistle when one is sobbing and snotty—but George was deaf or daft—possibly both—to my call. Bloody dog. I needed to get home. I didn’t know what time Sam had to leave and I didn’t like the idea of the children being by themselves.

  ‘George…’ I set off after him but he disappeared over yet another dry-stone wall. I really was going to have to get some obedience classes sorted for him. ‘George!’

  A strange moaning sound, steady and repetitive, was coming from behind the next wall and I stopped in my tracks, every sense alert trying to make out what the noise was. It was getting dark and I began to feel anxious. To my left and down the valley I could see Peter’s house—my house, I berated myself—lit up and welcoming, waiting for me to get home so that Sam could drive the five miles or so back to his parents’. The noise stopped abruptly and, in the still quiet, I whistled once more for George who’d not reappeared. ‘I’m going without you, George,’ I called at the top of my voice. ‘If you don’t get here this minute, you daft dog, that’s it—you’re on your own…’

  Still no sign of him. Bugger. It really was quite dark over by the wall and, as the grunting began again, shadows from a couple of young saplings, in full leaf now that
we were approaching mid-June, moved slightly in the cool night air. I inched forward towards the broken stile and, nervous of what was on the other side, shouted again, for George.

  The dark figure of a man suddenly loomed out of the shadow and I gave an involuntary squeak of fear.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, stop making all that bloody racket, will you? It’s bad enough your damned dog dancing around like a demented loon at a party, without you joining in.’

  29

  I looked at Rafe Ahern in terror, my heart hammering from the shock of his sudden spectre-like manifestation from the other side of the dry-stone wall. His looming appearance from out of the shadows wouldn’t have been out of place in an ancient black and white horror film.

  ‘Jesus wept, what on earth are you doing making me jump like that?’ I finally spluttered. ‘And me “making all that bloody racket”? Me?’ I had a sudden awful thought that maybe Rafe had been on the job, taking advantage of the warm June evening for a bit of alfresco rumpy pumpy before being disturbed by an overenthusiastic George. He was a bloody noisy lover if that was the case. All that moaning and groaning? Not my cup of tea at all.

  As Rafe stood there glaring at me, occasionally turning his head to berate an invisible, but obviously overexcited, George to ‘shut it,’ the moaning, interspersed by a slight wheezing accompaniment, began once more. Well, if JoJo Kennedy was behind the wall with him, she was an obvious asthmatic and shouldn’t be getting her kit off in a damp field, supermodel or no.

  ‘Can you come and get this damned dog of yours? He’s frightening Twiggy.’

  Twiggy? Twiggy was behind the wall with him? Crikey, if that was the case, Rafe Ahern must have dumped JoJo for an earlier model—in every sense of the word.

  ‘Hang on, I’m coming over.’ I climbed over the stile, not seeing the fresh cowpat until it was too late. Great stuff. Here I was, about to meet a Sixties icon, eyes puffy from crying, legs scratched from the particularly pernicious nettles I’d landed in when I fell earlier and now stinking of cowshit.