But she hadn’t told them yet. And each time she thought about it she felt her skin grow cold and her stomach sink and dread seep into her, tainting the joy and the passion she felt when she looked at the pictures.
There was a small enclosed area to the side of the house that Davey and Caroline had designed to try out some ideas for the garden makeover service. It had become known as Mum’s grotto. The main feature was a large still pool, with flagged paths alongside it. Its edges were fringed with marginal plants, reeds and rushes. At one end they had placed a huge slab of the local limestone, big enough to sit on. Two sides of the garden were built in dry-stone walling and dotted with alpines and creepers, a homage to Paul’s Yorkshire roots. Opposite the rock an arching framework covered with honeysuckle and wisteria provided an arbor for a seat.
The grotto, or variations on it, had sold itself several times over at the upper end of the market.
Caroline was sitting on the arbor seat when she heard Paul coming, with the distinctive footfall and the tap of his stick.
‘Getting late,’ he observed, sitting beside her.
‘Yes.’
He put his hand on her leg. She stiffened. Then covered his palm with her own. ‘Paul, there’s something I have to tell you.’
He turned to look at her, she stared straight ahead. She’s leaving me, he thought, though the idea surprised him. Why would she want to leave him? Where would she go? With whom?
‘Before I met you, when I was just sixteen, I had a baby, a girl. She was adopted.’
There was a pause. ‘I know,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘I know . . .’
‘But . . .’
‘One of the doctors let it slip, when you were in hospital, when you were in Collins Hill, after Davey.’
She gasped. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ She was stricken.
‘How could I? You’d kept it a secret, you never breathed a word, what else could I do? I thought about it but I was worried that . . . I didn’t want to upset you.’
‘You just carried on?’ She was angry.
‘Like you did, you mean?’ He retorted. ‘Pretending Davey was the first? Talking about how a girl might be nice? Yes, Caroline.’
‘Oh, god. You must have hated me.’
‘No!’ he protested. ‘OK, I felt deceived at first. It felt like everything was false, our marriage, Davey. I was furious, actually, but what could I do? You were ill, Davey was at my mother’s. It felt like everything was coming apart but I didn’t want to lose you. I wanted us to make a go of it. So I settled for second best.’
She whimpered.
‘No, not like that.’ He put his other hand on hers. ‘I mean, because you couldn’t trust me, I had to get used to the idea that you didn’t love me enough to share everything. So I decided that would have to do, I’d take whatever you could give. And the kids, of course, they mean the world to me. They always have.’
‘Oh, Paul!’ Her eyes stung, ‘I did love you, I do, completely. I was a coward. I thought I might lose you if I said anything and then as time went on . . . Was I wrong?’ She began to cry, noiselessly. ‘Maybe I was wrong but I didn’t dare test it out. I’m so sorry.’
‘Why now?’ He asked her. ‘Why tell me now?’
‘She’s been in touch. I’ve got photos, letters . . . she . . .’ She could no longer speak and turned sobbing into his chest.
And he held her close and let his own tears slide down his face and into her hair.
Kay
‘I just want today to be over,’ Kay said. ‘I’d like to go to sleep and wake up and find it’s next week.’
‘We could go out for bit,’ Adam said, ‘get lunch.’
Once the date had been arranged Adam had offered to visit Kay. She suspected that Theresa had put him up to it. She had almost refused, not sure she wanted to share her vulnerability with him but then he was Theresa’s father. It was the two of them who had been to St Ann’s to bring her home and watch her grow and read her Winnie the Pooh, and who had taught her to sing ‘Incy Wincy Spider’ and to ride a bike and make daisy chains, and who loved her. He had always loved her, just like Kay, and it seemed appropriate that they wait together for word of the reunion.
‘She might ring . . .’ She looked at him in anguish.
‘Kay, they’re not meeting till two o’clock. Why would she ring before?’
‘Reassurance?’
‘So we just sit here?’
‘And climb the walls.’
The doorbell interrupted her. She went to open it.
‘Dominic! Jacob!’ She put a hand down to her grandson, still having to avoid heaving things about. ‘This is a surprise! Come in.’
Dominic winked at his father. ‘I need a haircut, Gill’s at work. I thought if you could have Jacob for a bit . . .’
‘Of course. Give me something to keep my mind occupied.’
‘You sure this is all right?’
‘Fine,’ Kay said, ‘be as long as you like. C’mon, Jacob, let’s find you something to play with.’
Caroline
‘Time to go,’ Paul yelled up the stairs.
Caroline hung over the toilet, retching without effect. She rinsed her mouth out, took another Rennie. ‘Oh, God,’ she prayed. ‘Help me.’
Downstairs she looked around anxiously. ‘Where’s my bag?’
‘There, with the presents.’
She collected her coat.
‘Ready?’
‘No.’ She blinked hard, took a breath through her nose. ‘Yes.’
She followed him out.
‘Paul, I’m scared.’
He rested his stick against the wall. Put his hands on her shoulders. ‘It’ll be all right.’ She looked into his eyes, warm and loving. Nodded, Yes.
Heard her grandma’s voice, loud and full of life, urging her on. Go on Mouse. Go on. Laughter.
She took a deep breath of air, full of the scents of her plants. Looked back at the house, which would never be the same after today, and turned to the car.
I’m coming, Theresa. I’m coming.
Theresa
‘Is it creased?’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Oh, Craig, I’m so nervous. It’s worse than getting married.’
‘It’ll be all right.’
What’s the time? We can’t be late.’
‘We’re not late.’
‘What if she hates me?’
‘Nobody’s going to hate anybody.’
‘What if she doesn’t come?’
‘She’ll come. Get in the car, for the love of God.’
‘You’ll wait outside, you promise?’
‘Aye, until hell freezes over.’
She swallowed. ‘I feel sick.’
He looked at her steadily. ‘Car.’
‘Hold me.’
He hugged her tight.
‘I love you,’ she said.
‘Me too. Now get in the car.’
It was time to go. Time to discover her past. And to find her future. Time to complete the circle. She stood on the threshold and felt the world stop turning.
Outside the door, poised for flight. Her heart was bumping too fast in her chest, fingers clenched. She could just go. Turn and walk away. Cruel, yes, but not impossible. This side of the door there was still room for fantasies, for dreams of what she might be like, for scenes of happy ever after, of coming home, of finding peace. But in there, once across the threshold, there would only ever be reality: stark, unrelenting, unchangeable. No going back. No escape. Her ears were buzzing and her skull and back felt tight with tension. She couldn’t breathe properly.
She closed her eyes momentarily, fighting the rising panic. Don’t think. Just open the door.
She put her hand out and grasped the handle. Turned and pushed. Stepped into the room. Saw the woman on the couch rise unsteadily to her feet. Smiling. Moving towards her, mouth working with emotion. Little exclamations popping softly, hello, oh, hello. Ar
ms opening, eyes drinking her in.
The two women embraced.
Theresa started to cry, noisy sobs and sucking sounds.
‘Twenty-eight years,’ Caroline said, her voice muffled with emotion, ‘I never thought I’d see you again. Come on.’
She led her daughter to the couch and sat with one arm around her, listening to her weep, her own tears sliding down her face. She smelled Theresa’s hair and felt the smooth skin of her fingers and waited for the crying to gentle and cease. There was no hurry after all. Years lost, but now they had all the time in the world. Forever.
And Theresa in her hot, damp sea of tears, felt them emptying out of her, on and on like when they change the lock gates on the canals. Made no effort to control them. Holding the hand, strong and bony like her own, hearing the drumbeat in her ears. Till she is all cried out. Feeling the wheel turn. Finding herself in a new place. Tender and bewildered and brave.
Epilogue
The conference reception area was lined with exhibitions from adoption charities and organisations. And there were tables laden with leaflets and booklets, petitions and contact sheets. The place was filling up with people arriving. Some came alone, others in twos or threes, some even in coach parties. All ages, and men as well as women.
Helen, the counsellor, accompanied Caroline to the registration desk. They were greeted warmly and given a room plan and timetable. Keynote speeches in the large hall at ten, one thirty and three, workshops and discussion groups in-between.
‘Tea and coffee over there,’ the volunteer told them, ‘do help yourselves.’
Caroline felt another swirl of trepidation, doubtful about the wisdom of coming here. She hated crowds, hated talking in front of people. Heat flushed her forehead and the nape of her neck.
‘I’m going outside,’ she told Helen, ‘get some air.’
‘Fine. We don’t start until half past ten, we’re just in there.’ She pointed to a door at one end of the foyer. It was labelled with a notice, large black letters. Room 4 Session 1a: Birth Parents – Breaking the Silence, 10.30–12.30
Caroline made her way through the crush and out into the damp, drizzly day, past the knots of smokers lingering on the steps. She walked slowly round the courtyard, breathing in the smell of wet stone. She studied the old walls and architectural details to avoid looking at all the people. Helen had told her there’d be people from all aspects of adoption, of the triangle as she called it, and professionals too. The whole thrust of the day was to hear from people about their own experiences and to learn from that what services should be developed in the future.
A shriek of laughter made her turn. There were three women coming through the gates, two middle-aged and one younger and heavily pregnant. Were they related? They didn’t look particularly alike. Were they adoptive parents, social workers, birth parents, adoptees? Impossible to tell. Caroline wondered about the pregnant woman, did she really want to be here? Did she feel at all awkward? She didn’t look it. There was a crêche too, Caroline remembered, so there’d be children here, maybe babies. Which was what it was all about: babies. Losing them, finding them.
Panic made her stomach lurch. She could not do this. She’d have to tell Helen. It had been a stupid idea. She walked quickly inside, intending to make her excuses and leave, wander round the unfamiliar town centre while the rest of them got on with it.
It was busier than ever in the building and she couldn’t see Helen among the many faces. Above the hubbub someone clapped hands to quieten them and asked them to take their seats in the hall. People began to move that way.
Still no sign of Helen. Caroline was annoyed, her jaw tightened with tension. She couldn’t walk out without a word, not after all Helen had done for her.
A hand touched her arm and she turned to see a diminutive old woman, frail, with wispy white hair and thick glasses. ‘Would you mind,’ her voice quavered, ‘I need to get a seat but I’m not so steady . . . I’m so very sorry to be a bother.’
‘Not at all, here . . .’ Caroline offered her arm and helped the woman through the throng.
‘I’ve never been to anything like this before,’ the woman said.
‘Neither have I.’
‘I’d no idea there would be so many people. Just look at them all.’
Caroline nodded. ‘Here we are.’ She guided her into the second row.
On the dais at the front, three people sat and behind them a projected message welcomed them all.
‘Thank you so much. Elsie Carr.’ She held out her hand, reaching up to Caroline.
‘Caroline.’ She hovered in the aisle.
The people on the dais were still chatting to each other and adjusting their papers.
‘Have you come far?’
‘Somerset, a couple of hours.’ She hesitated, the last few delegates were taking their seats. ‘What about you?’
‘I got the coach, from Newcastle. I had to come yesterday. The people in the booking office sorted me out with a bed and breakfast.’
‘That’s a long way.’
Elsie nodded. The lights began to dim. ‘Ooh!’ She turned her attention to the front then glanced back at Caroline, who was still standing. Elsie pulled a face, a mix of excitement and apprehension, and patted the seat beside her.
With a feeling of misgiving, Caroline slid into it and watched as the woman at the podium began by thanking them all for coming.
The half hour flew by and then people were asked to leave the hall and join their morning sessions. Caroline helped Elsie once again and when they reached the foyer she asked her which session she wanted.
Elsie ran her finger down the printed sheet. ‘Room four.’ She looked about.
‘This way.’ Caroline led her over.
‘What about you, dear?’ Elsie cocked her head and looked up at Caroline.
It was ridiculous, Caroline thought. If Elsie had been in any other session she could have taken her there then nipped back to explain to Helen and ducked out of the session, but she felt some stupid sense of responsibility for Elsie and she couldn’t lie to her.
‘Same as you.’
‘Good.’ Elsie patted her hand. ‘Good. You can hold my hand.’ And she gave Caroline’s hand a squeeze.
‘And you mine,’ Caroline muttered.
Inside Room four a circle of twenty chairs had been set out and at the back a table with tea and coffee. Helen was there, talking to a small group of women, and she nodded hello to Caroline across the room. Caroline got teas for herself and Elsie and joined her to wait as the room gradually filled up. The tea was watery and she didn’t know whether drinking it would make her feel better or worse. She fiddled with the cup and saucer. The place was hot and a rush of saliva in her mouth made her stomach heave. She put her drink down and told Elsie she was nipping out for a minute.
‘I’ll save your seat for you.’
In the ladies’, Caroline splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth. She felt ghastly. She stared at her face in the mirror. Daft, wasn’t it. Inside, she was still fifteen, still the girl who was happiest running free up on the tops or trotting after Grandma, not this middle-aged woman with grey hair and bags under her eyes and her face the colour of putty. She found a mint in her bag and hoped it would help settle her stomach. She could just stay here, hiding in the toilet, but Elsie was expecting her back . . . and Helen. And how would she ever explain to Paul or to Theresa, who both knew she was coming.
She steeled herself and set off back. As she rejoined the corridor she almost collided with another woman who’d come hurtling from the other direction.
‘I’m sorry, I’m terribly late, not sure if I’m going the right way. Are you all right? You don’t know . . .’ She broke off. She was staring at Caroline.
Caroline looked at her. Petite build, red hair, face sprinkled with freckles, deep lines round the mouth and the eyes. Bright eyes, vivid blue. Caroline frowned. ‘It’s not . . . Megan?’ It couldn’t be.
‘Oh, Jesus!’ Mega
n’s hands flew up to her face. ‘I never . . .’ Her hands went out to grasp Caroline’s. ‘Caroline?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, my God! You’ll give me a heart attack!’ She shook her head, her eyes filled with tears.
‘Long time.’
‘A lifetime. How are you? Are you . . . Did you . . . What . . . Oh, Jesus!’
Caroline couldn’t help laughing at Megan’s verbal con tortions.
‘We’ll have lunch,’ Megan told her, ‘we’ll talk.’
‘Yes.’ Caroline didn’t hesitate. ‘Your boyfriend . . . Declan?’
‘Brendan. Still together. Got married, had three more. Oh, Caroline. You?’
‘I’m married. Two boys, all grown up now.’
The question they both wanted to ask hung unspoken. It was Caroline who surprised herself by breaking the pause, speaking quickly. ‘I met my daughter, we had a reunion.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad.’ Megan’s face relaxed with relief. ‘So did I. Well . . . mine not yours. Turned up on the doorstep. We’ve had our ups and downs, but –’ she smiled and nodded her head – ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’
Helen appeared at the end of the corridor. ‘Caroline?’
‘Sorry,’ Caroline gasped.
‘Sorry,’ Megan added and they stepped apart guiltily. ‘Remember Sister Vincent?’
‘Oh, don’t,’ Caroline laughed.
They walked back with Helen and explained to her how they knew each other. Caroline sat with Elsie on her left and Megan on her right. Helen opened the session but Caroline found herself assailed by memories: pulling the heavy laundry cart with Megan, the porridge at breakfast, the cold bedroom they had shared, Joan comforting her after they’d told her about Grandma, the terrifying labour and that first glimpse of her baby, red and streaked, a shock of hair, overwhelming, lovely. She remembered watching as the babies in the nursery were moved round closer to the door as each was taken and the night when they pulled Theresa from her arms.
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