The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  ‘Please — will you come?’ she asked. ‘I’m sure it would help.’ She bit her lip hard, praying that the handful of coins she had fed into the box would be sufficient. Frantically, she tried to remember whether Boxing Day still carried cheap-rate all day.

  At the other end Marie said. ‘Quick, tell me the name of the hospital — and the address. I’ve got a pencil.’ Leah rattled off the address and her own telephone number. ‘I thought maybe we should meet first,’ she added. ‘Then I could explain. There’s a hotel near the hospital — “The Greenway”. It’s easy to find. Anyone will tell you.’

  “‘The Greenway”. I’ve got that,’ Marie said. ‘I’ll ring you back and let you know. But I’ll come. Somehow. Don’t worry, I …’ There was a click as the money ran out and the dialling tone intervened. With a sigh of relief Leah replaced the receiver. Would Marie really come? She’d let her down that other time. But as she walked back down the street she felt buoyed up, suddenly sure that this time nothing would stop Marie Evans from making contact with her daughters.

  As she let herself in at the basement door she suddenly realised how tired and hungry she was. Opening the kitchen door she stopped short on the threshold. She’d forgotten Bill’s visitor. A woman sat at the table. Tall and blonde, she wore the glossy veneer that comes with success. Her expensively cut suit and flawless make-up skilfully concealed the fact that she was well past the first flush of youth. Her hands were exquisitely manicured and her aggressively blonde hair was coiffured into tortured perfection. She looked up in surprise, recrossing long, slim legs sheathed in cobweb-sheer lycra.

  ‘Well, well, who have we here?’

  Leah looked at Bill who got up from the table. ‘This is Leah,’ he said, looking slightly hang-dog. ‘She’s one of my tenants. Leah, this is Janet, my wife.’

  ‘Ex-wife,’ Janet qualified. Her shrewd grey eyes looked Leah up and down with frank appraisal, taking in the heavy wind-blown dark hair and sparkling brown eyes; the perfect complexion, innocent of make-up and rosy from the cold air. With one sweeping gaze she took in the girl’s clothes; jeans and a denim jacket, the badge of youth. But she saw that she wore them with a grace and style that very few young people possessed. Not a day over twenty, Janet told herself wryly. Nubile — the kind who can exude sexuality without lifting so much as an eyelash, damn her. She glanced at Bill whose faint flush was as good as a confession. Cynical, world-weary journalist he might be, but he was still a total pushover when it came to an attractive face and figure. And he’d never been able to hide the truth from her.

  ‘One of your tenants, did you say, darling -- or your only tenant?’

  ‘I do have another actually — Terry — but he’s up north at the moment,’ Bill stumbled.

  ‘My sister has been staying here for Christmas,’ Leah said. ‘She’s in hospital.’ She looked appealingly at Bill. ‘I came to tell you, Sally’s had some kind of relapse. She’s had an emergency operation. She’s very ill — in intensive care. I was going to grab something to eat before I go back to the hospital. But I can see you’re busy …’

  Janet got up and took Bill’s arm firmly. ‘Don’t mind us, my dear. We can talk upstairs,’ she said. ‘Do please have your meal. Bill and I have a lot to catch up on, haven’t we, darling? Even more than I thought, by the look of things.’

  *

  Leah returned to Melbury Street that night, totally exhausted. It was late when she finally left the hospital and she had to wait for what seemed an eternity for a bus. She was making herself a hot drink in the kitchen when Bill appeared in the doorway wearing his dressing gown.

  ‘I heard you come in,’ he said, closing the door. ‘How’s Sally?’

  Leah sank into a chair by the Aga, her hands gratefully wrapped round her mug of cocoa. ‘They say she’s stable. She’s still very ill though. I just sat there, watching her and holding her hand. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.’ She looked up at him. ‘They had to perform a hysterectomy, Bill. That means she’ll never be able to have another child.

  He crossed the room to lay a large hand on her shoulder. ‘That’s rotten luck. I’m sorry, love. How’s the kid?’

  Leah’s face relaxed a little. ‘He’s okay. They say he’s making good progress. He’s a tough little thing. It’s as though all Sally’s strength went into him. She gave him all she had. And now she’s — she’s giving him away.’ She clamped her teeth over her quivering lower lip, determined not to let him see how much the thought affected her.

  He squeezed her shoulder. ‘Maybe it’s best this way, love,’ he said soothingly. ‘Maybe it’s for the kid’s own good.’

  ‘They must have said that about Sally and me,’ Leah said angrily. ‘But no one really knows, do they? No one can ever be sure. People who offload their kids just say that to make themselves feel better.’

  ‘We’re all guilty of self-justification, love,’ he said. ‘We can’t always do the things we know we should do. Saying it’s for the best is the only thing that makes life bearable at times like that.’

  Leah sipped her cocoa. ‘I know. That why I made a decision of my own today. I rang my mother.’

  ‘Your mother? At Nenebridge, you mean?’

  She stared at him. ‘Hilary? God, no. I mean my real mother.’

  He pursed his lips. ‘Was that wise?’

  She shrugged wearily. ‘Wise or not, I’ve done it. I can’t cope with the situation on my own. I need someone to help — emotionally if nothing else. And so will Sally once she comes to properly. Our mother seemed the obvious choice.’

  ‘But she’s a stranger, Leah. You’ve never even met her.’

  ‘She’s also my mother — and Sally’s mother too. She’s been through all this herself, Bill.’ She looked up at him. ‘She said she’d come. She hasn’t rung, has she?’

  He shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘She will. Tomorrow.’ The look she gave him made it clear that the subject was closed. ‘So — where’s your — er … Where’s Janet?’ Did she have to go back?’ He turned away and pretended to warm his hands at the Aga. ‘No. As a matter of fact she’s — staying the night.’

  ‘I see.’

  He glanced at her, his eyes slightly defensive. ‘We’re still good friends, you know.’

  ‘Of course. It must have been a surprise, her arriving like that, after she’d said she couldn’t come.’ Bill shrugged. ‘She likes to drop by when she’s in Town — make sure I’m all right.’

  To make sure you’re still available, Leah wanted to say. She smiled up at him. ‘What was it really — does she want something?’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry, Bill, that was a bitchy thing to say. Anyway, it’s none of my business.’

  ‘Her arrival was a surprise to me too as a matter of fact,’ he said. ‘I still don’t know the real reason for it to be honest. I rather suspect that something went wrong with the new relationship. I expect she’ll tell me eventually.’

  ‘Pillow talk, eh?’

  He put out a hand and touched her cheek. ‘I’m sorry, kid. I’d really like to have been here for you tonight, Leah, like the loving friend I promised to be.’

  ‘You’ve already been a great help, Bill. We’d never have managed without you.’ She hid her face in her mug of cocoa. Why did men automatically interpret being friends as going to bed, and consider sex some kind of cure-all? At the moment it was the last thing on her mind. Nevertheless, she appreciated his concern.

  ‘You’d better get back to Janet before she notices you’ve gone,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘I can’t afford to make any enemies right now.’

  *

  Leah was dreaming of Nenebridge. It was Sunday morning and the church bells were ringing. Suddenly she wakened and lay for a few seconds, drowsily wondering why the bells sounded so strange and different. Then she realised that what she was actually hearing was the telephone. She jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, but as she reached the bend in the stairs she saw that Janet Fenton had beaten her to it. She
turned, looking up as Leah appeared.

  ‘It’s for you.’ She held out the receiver. ‘Someone called Marie Evans.’

  Leah ran down the stairs to take the receiver from her. ‘Hello. Leah Dobson here.’

  ‘Leah, this is Marie, your … Marie Evans. I’m at the railway station. The London train leaves in a few minutes. I should be at the hotel by about ten-thirty. Shall I see you there?’

  Leah’s head was spinning as she tried to sort out whether she really was awake or still dreaming. ‘Oh — er — yes, of course. I’ll wait for you in the reception hall at half-past ten.’

  ‘All right. Oh, here’s the train. Goodb …’ Marie’s voice was cut off abruptly as she hurriedly dropped the receiver.

  It was only after she had put the phone down that Leah realised that neither of them had much idea of what the other looked like.

  ‘Not bad news, I hope.’

  Leah turned to see that Janet was still standing behind her. She wore Bill’s dressing gown, but Leah couldn’t help noticing that she had taken the trouble to run a comb through her hair and apply some lipstick.

  ‘No. It was my sister’s — my … A relative who’s coming to visit her today.’ Leah hopped from one foot to the other, suddenly aware of the chill of the tiled floor on her bare feet and the fact that she wore only the baseball shirt she used as a nightdress.

  For her part, Janet was aware of long, shapely legs and thighs, still lightly tanned from last summer’s sun, and under the clinging cotton, a shape that owed nothing to an expensive bra and girdle. ‘I’d put something on if I were you,’ she advised pointedly, ‘I hope you’re not in the habit of running around dressed like that. You’ll catch your death of cold.’ She walked down the basement stairs to the kitchen and Leah followed her, grabbing a coat from the row of hooks by the door as she went.

  ‘Actually I’m not in the habit of walking around in my underwear,’ she said. ‘The telephone woke me and I got straight out of bed to answer it.’

  Janet smiled as she filled the kettle and set it on top of the Aga. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I’m not accusing you of corrupting Bill’s morals. It’s a bit on the late side for that. And, he’s well able to take care of himself.’ She gave Leah a quizzical look as she helped herself to a cigarette from the packet Bill had left on the dresser.

  ‘Anyway, it’d take more than a flash of thigh to turn him into a Don Juan these days, poor old lad.’ She drew hard on the cigarette and began to get mugs out of the cupboard. ‘You might even be surprised to learn that I’m pleased he’s got some feminine company.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Leah watched warily as Janet went about the business of making tea.

  ‘Yes, really. He’d turn into a slob without a woman around the place to keep him on his toes.’ She smiled at Leah. ‘We might be divorced but I’m still fond of the silly old sod.’

  ‘Bill’s a nice guy,’ Leah said. ‘He’s been very kind to me — and to Sally.’

  Janet smiled. ‘Why shouldn’t he? I’m sure you’ve been kind to him too.’

  ‘I lost my job just before Christmas,’ Leah told her. ‘I was working at an Italian restaurant just round the corner, but the couple who ran it have decided to go home to Italy. Bill’s been trying to encourage me to start up a catering service on my own.’

  ‘That sounds like Bill. He’s an old softie really, under that tough shell he hides behind.’ Janet looked speculatively at Leah. ‘And he’s obviously fond of you. I’ve been hearing all about the marvellous Christmas dinner you and your sister prepared.’ She picked up the polaroid snap that was still propped up on the dresser. ‘I take it he took this?’

  ‘Yes. On Christmas Day.’ Leah took the photograph from her. It was the first time she’d actually looked at it properly. Sally looked so frail, with her blonde hair and delicate features. By contrast Leah’s abundant dark hair and expressive brown eyes seemed to dominate the picture.

  ‘You look happy,’ Janet said, taking the photograph back.

  ‘Yes. I think we were — just for a little while.’ Leah met the cool grey eyes, trying to see beyond their unconcerned smile. She’d been wondering whether Janet was sincere or if her remarks carried an oblique accusation. Now she came down on the side of sincerity. Last night Bill’s ex-wife seemed cold and brittle, with an acid edge to her tongue. But this morning she was softer and definitely more approachable. Perhaps it was the dressing gown.

  There was a pause as the two silently assessed each other.

  ‘I’m sorry if the phone woke you,’ Leah said.

  ‘It’s all right, I was up anyway.’ Janet exhaled another cloud of smoke. ‘As a matter of fact I was half expecting a call myself.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sorry about your sister. I hope she’s improving.’

  ‘She’s making progress. They don’t tell you much.’

  ‘Baby all right?’

  ‘He’s doing fine. No problems there, except …’ Leah trailed off.

  ‘I just wondered if things were worse,’ Janet said, nodding towards the door. ‘Early morning calls, relatives travelling from afar and all that.’ She poured milk and tea into two mugs, watching Leah’s face out of the corner of her eye.

  ‘Oh, no. It was someone I asked to come. Sally’s mother as a matter of fact.’

  Janet’s eyebrows rose. ‘Sally’s? But surely, if you’re sisters, she’s your mother too?’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course — our mother. We’re twins actually.’

  ‘Really? You surprise me. I hadn’t realised you were twin sisters. You’re not at all alike.’ Janet smiled. ‘Your mother must be very excited — looking forward to seeing her first grandchild. I take it this is her first?’ She pushed one of the mugs across the table towards Leah. ‘Here — have some tea. Come and get warm. Your feet are going blue.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Leah took the mug in both hands and sat down in the chair close to the Aga, tucking her bare feet up under her. ‘Actually it isn’t quite as simple as that,’ she said. ‘Sally and I were separated and adopted at birth, you see. As a matter of fact I didn’t even know I had a sister till quite recently and neither of us knows our natural mother at all. This will be the first time either of us has met her.’

  Janet’s expression sharpened. ‘Well, you certainly know how to choose your moment,’ she said, her eyes glittering with interest. ‘Talk about dramatic effect.’

  ‘It’s not just that. There’s a problem and I’m at my wits’ end. Sally keeps insisting that she’s going to give up her baby for adoption, you see. I’m sure she’s making the wrong decision and I want to get her to change her mind. I contacted our mother as a sort of last resort.’

  ‘In an attempt to stop history from repeating itself, you mean? How fascinating. But you say you haven’t met. How did you know where to find her?’

  ‘I’ve been trying to trace her for some time. Recently I had some success. A social worker put us in touch.’

  ‘Mmm, I always think that situation must be difficult,’ Janet said thoughtfully. ‘Years on like this, when the woman in question is married, probably with a new family and a whole new life.’

  ‘I suppose it could have been awkward. As it happens she doesn’t have any other children though,’ Leah told her. ‘We were to have met a few weeks ago, but something went wrong on that occasion and the meeting fell through.’

  ‘Does she know about Sally’s decision?’

  ‘No. She doesn’t even know about the baby yet.’

  ‘I see. And what about Sally? Is she aware that she’s about to meet her natural mother for the first time?’

  ‘Well — no. She’s been too ill to talk much so far. I arranged it rather on impulse.’

  Janet drew hard on her cigarette, blowing out the smoke with an expressive hiss. ‘Phew! Sensational surprises in store for them both then? Does your mother have far to come?’

  ‘Not too far. From Dorset — Branksome. She runs a hotel there,’ Leah finished her tea and stood up. ‘I think I’d better go and get d
ressed. I’ve arranged to meet her at “The Greenway” in Kensington at half-past ten.’

  ‘Look, tell you what,’ Janet said hurriedly, ‘I’ve got to leave around ten myself. ‘Why don’t you let me drop you off? It’s on my way.’

  ‘Well — thanks. That would be a help.’

  *

  As Leah released the seat belt in Janet’s smart BMW sports car an hour later outside the hotel, she was suddenly stricken with nerves. ‘Oh dear, I hope we recognise each other,’ she said. ‘I quite forgot to ask her what she’d be wearing.’

  Janet smiled. ‘That’s no problem. Just ask the receptionist to page her,’ she said. ‘Tell them her name and yours and wait by the desk till she comes.’

  ‘Of course.’ Leah grinned. ‘Why didn’t I think of that? Thanks for the lift, Mrs Fenton.’

  ‘Janet, please. I’m not Mrs Fenton any longer, remember?’

  ‘Thanks anyway — Janet. Maybe we’ll meet again.’ Leah got out of the car and closed the door.

  Janet sat watching thoughtfully as Leah ran up the steps and in through the smoked glass doors. She looked older this morning and more sophisticated. A white trenchcoat thrown casually over a short black skirt and red silk shirt replaced the denims, and she had disciplined the heavy hair into a sleek French plait, which accentuated her striking dark eyes and high cheekbones.

  Janet drove around till she found a parking space. Locking the car she fed coins into the meter and began to walk back towards the hotel. On the corner she bought a newspaper from a street vendor, hardly even noticing that it was the early edition of her own old paper, the Daily Globe. Folding it under her arm she walked up the steps of ‘The Greenway’ to glance in through the doors. As she stepped into the dimly lit lobby and took a seat close to the door, her journalist’s mind automatically pictured the headlines: Mother and daughters reunited after twenty years. If Leah managed to get things to go her way — or even if she didn’t — it would make a fascinating human interest story. One of the more sensational tabloids would snap it up, especially if it were slanted in the right way.