The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  ‘So what’s the angle? Where is she now? And what happened to the kids?’ Harriet leaned forward expectantly.

  ‘The twin girls were adopted at birth. I’ve located them too and I can tell you that they’ve recently found each other again. But if you want to know the rest it’s up for grabs,’ Janet said. ‘I can promise you, it’s well worth buying.’ Harriet’s hesitant expression encouraged her. ‘Oh come on, Harri. You know you can trust me.’

  Harriet examined her immaculate fingernails. ‘Suppose we run this first one as a pilot — see how it goes?’

  Janet shook her head. ‘It has to be a firm commission or nothing,’ she said. ‘And I’d have to have an advance. There’ll be travelling and more research to do. And I have to get myself a permanent place to live, now that I’m back in London to stay.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know.’ Harriet was thoughtful. ‘Care to give me a little bit more on it first?’

  Janet laughed. ‘Not a chance. I’ve already given away more than I should. Do you want it or not?’

  ‘I suppose you’ll want a by-line?’

  ‘No. At least, I’d prefer not to do it under my own name. I thought I’d like to do the series under the name of “Pandora”.’

  Harriet looked at her for a moment, one eyebrow raised, then she laughed. ‘Pandora, eh? Very apt. You know, if it was anyone but you I’d tell you to get lost, but seeing we go back such a long way — okay, you’re on.’ She pressed the buzzer on her desk. ‘You’d better have that coffee while we negotiate a fee. Then you can fill me in on the rest of the story.’

  *

  Sally was feeling better. Her stitches were out now and she was able to get up a little each day and walk down to the day room where there were magazines and a television. Most of the other patients were older women. There was no one with whom she could hold a conversation other than to pass the time of day. They all seemed to enjoy swapping symptoms and exchanging details of their operations — the last thing Sally wanted to indulge in. Sometimes it seemed to her that they looked at her with curious, speculative eyes. As far as she knew none of them knew about the baby but these things had a way of getting around. The sooner she could get out of here and get on with her life again, the better she’d like it.

  Although she refused to admit it, even to herself, she thought about the baby constantly, trying to remember what he looked like, wondering how he was alone up there in his incubator. Often as she lay awake late at night she’d been tempted to get up and creep upstairs to the baby unit to take a peep at him. She had never once allowed herself to ask about him, but there was one nurse, an older woman with children of her own, who insisted on bringing her snippets of news. He was breathing unaided now — and taking his feed from a bottle. Did she know that her sister had given him the name of Jamie? When Sally heard this she felt a stab of resentment. So Leah was interfering again, was she? What right did she have to name her child? Knowing that he had a name made him much more real somehow — made the unexpected pull even stronger. Half of her longed to hold him, to protect him, or at least be reassured that he was all right, whilst the other half shrank from any knowledge of him. Once she’d left the hospital, she’d be able to make herself forget all this, she promised herself. Forget the long and painful birth, the terrifying haemorrhage and operation that had followed. When she was away from all the associations she’d find it much easier to shut out the memory of the tiny face with its fuzz of soft hair and the wide blue eyes that she had looked into just the once. Maybe then her arms would stop feeling so empty and her heart stop yearning.

  Meeting Marie had been quite an experience. She’d neither expected, nor wanted to meet her natural mother, but in some strange way on the day she’d arrived unannounced with Hannah, Sally had known instinctively who she was. She’d seen at once her own resemblance to Marie, and she found herself drawn to the warmth of her personality and the soft voice that still retained a trace of the musical lilt of her native Ireland. There had been an instant rapport between them. Marie was the only person who truly understood how she felt in all this, and her invitation to go down to Dorset was like the answer to all Sally’s problems. She’d so dreaded the thought of returning to the cold, lonely little bedsit and coping alone.

  When she told Hannah about the invitation, the social worker’s eyes had clouded with doubt. ‘What about your parents, Sally?’ she asked. ‘Do you really think it’s fair, the way you’re treating them? Surely now you could go home and reassure them that you’re still their daughter?’

  Sally had turned her face away. ‘I will, Hannah. In my own good time. I’ve promised you, and I will go. Just give me time.’ Deep inside she couldn’t stamp out the feeling that if they hadn’t sheltered her so closely while she was growing up it would never have happened. If she’d been more like Sharon, streetwise and able to look after herself, she wouldn’t be where she was now. She couldn’t count the nights she had lain awake, thinking of the manner in which her child had been conceived; shuddering with revulsion and self-disgust. After the operation, when they’d broken the news to her that she would never be able to have another child, she’d been glad. She’d never marry — never give herself to a man again, so what did it matter?

  ‘What am I to tell them?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘Tell them I’m fine and that I’ll be in touch. You could say I’ve gone away on a course or something if you like.’

  ‘So I’m to lie for you?’

  Sally frowned impatiently. ‘Oh, tell them what you like.’

  ‘As long as it’s nothing like the truth, you mean?’

  ‘I don’t see why you should have to tell them anything,’ Sally protested. ‘You’re not my social worker and you’re not theirs either. Haven’t you got enough work of your own to do?’

  ‘They asked me to help as a friend, Sally. To my way of thinking that makes me doubly committed, but maybe I shouldn’t expect you to understand that.’

  ‘Because I’m so selfish, you mean? Because I want a life of my own? Is that so wrong?’

  ‘Are you really so hard that you feel you owe them nothing?’

  ‘I owe them this,’ Sally said, spreading her hands to encompass the hospital ward. ‘When I’ve come to terms with that I’ll try to forgive them.’

  ‘They tell me they’re taking Jamie — the baby — to St Mary’s tomorrow,’ Hannah said. ‘And when he’s reached an acceptable weight he’ll go to the home from which he’ll be adopted.’

  ‘Really?’ Sally’s eyes refused to meets hers.

  ‘If you like he could go to a foster home until you …’

  ‘I’m not going to change my mind,’ Sally interrupted. ‘It’s no use your keeping on at me.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I’m tired. I’d like you to go now if you don’t mind.’

  Hannah stood up and laid a hand on Sally's shoulder. ‘I won’t come again,’ she said quietly. ‘But you know where I am if you want me.’ She waited, but when the girl didn’t reply or look up she walked away. She’d tried her best, she told herself. She could do no more.

  Sally watched Hannah go, making sure that she was quite out of sight before giving way to the tears that threatened to choke her. Hiding her head under the bedclothes she stifled the sobs that tore at her throat and chest. Hot, salt tears scalded her cheeks and soaked into the pillow.

  The letter came by the first post next morning. Most of the other patients in the ward had a host of ‘get well’ cards displayed on their lockers, but Sally had had no cards or letters. She turned the envelope over in her hands, looking curiously at the unfamiliar writing and wondering who could have written to her. Then she saw that it was postmarked Dorset and guessed that it was from Marie. Eagerly she tore the envelope open. It was brief and barely filled one side of a single sheet of notepaper.

  My dear Sarah

  It is so hard for me to write this letter to you after inviting you to convalesce at ‘The Ocean’. Since my visit to you we have had a serious business upset which means
that the coming weeks will be difficult and very busy. I’ll write to you again, my dear, as soon as I can see my way clear to having you with me for a visit. I hope you will forgive me and believe that I would not have let you down like this unless it were unavoidable. Please keep in touch. I do hope you are feeling better.

  My loving thoughts and good wishes for the future go with you.

  Marie

  Sally crumpled the letter into a ball and pushed it into the waste bag taped to the side of her locker. She might have known. Marie had let Leah down, hadn’t she? Quite clearly her first impression had been wrong. Marie Evans was not a very reliable person. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the crushing disappointment. Well, so much for that. If she was to live an independent life she must learn to stand on her own two feet. If she accepted no help, then she would have no one to be grateful to. It was what she wanted after all, wasn’t it? All the same, she couldn’t help feeling disappointed. She’d been so sure that Marie Evans was sincere.

  *

  Leah and Terry spent three idyllic days together. They went window shopping in Regent Street and sight-seeing at Hampton Court and Kew. They treated themselves to a fiendishly extravagant lunch at L’ Escargot and Terry even managed to get tickets — through a friend-of-a-friend — for Aspects Of Love. Leah could not remember ever being so happy. Since he’d been away she sensed a certain change in Terry. She approved. He seemed suddenly older, more positive and confident in his outlook. Since he’d moved up north he had traded in his old 2CV for a smart little Spitfire sports car; second-hand but fast and racy. Clearly he loved his new job and was learning fast. He told Leah about the photography course the group was sending all their reporters on.

  ‘The old idea of having to drag a photographer along on a story is cumbersome,’ he explained. ‘So much better if we can take our own.’ He laughed. ‘I can’t believe how naive I used to be, snapping away with my old Instamatic for the Nenebridge Clarion. One of these days I’ll hit the front page with the biggest scoop there’s ever been,’ he said with a laugh.

  ‘Oh, yes? Do they let junior reporters loose on front page stuff?’ she’d asked teasingly.

  ‘If I stumbled on a really hot story I could always sell to another paper under a trade name,’ he told her. ‘It happens all the time.’

  She was fascinated, hearing about his job. His enthusiasm was infectious. He made it all sound so exciting that she almost wished she could work for a newspaper too. Terry’s new self-assurance had made a subtle difference to the way she saw him. In the old days she’d been the dominant one, but now there were times when she was almost shy with him. Somehow he seemed so much wiser. The boyish charm had gone, replaced by a new assertiveness that she found irresistibly attractive.

  ‘Successful newspaper reporters have to be hard and ruthless sometimes,’ he told her when she teased him about it. She’d laughed, unable to see the old Terry as either of these things. All the same, she found herself looking at him speculatively after that. Terry was ambitious. She recognised his determination and single-mindedness and admired him for it. The only cloud on her horizon was the fact that he would be back in Manchester by the end of the week.

  ‘Shall I come back with you?’ she asked suddenly as they were eating supper in the kitchen at Melbury Street on their last evening together.

  Terry looked up in surprise. ‘There’s nothing I’d like more. But London is where you’ve always wanted to be. Aren’t you going to look for another job? And what about Sally and Marie?’

  ‘Let’s face it — they don’t really want to know me,’ she said, pushing her plate away. ‘That’s a fact I’ve just got to face. Hannah keeps telling me to let go and I can see now that she’s right.’ She looked up at him. ‘I can get a waitressing or a bar job up there as easily as down here. And you’d like me to come, wouldn’t you?’

  He laughed gently and reached out to take her hand. ‘You know I would. I’m just afraid you haven’t really thought it through. Leah, you’re a very bright girl. You’ve wasted so much time chasing rainbows. You’ve been doing it half your life and I’m not convinced that you aren’t still doing it. There’s nothing I’d like better than to take you back up north with me tomorrow. I’m more tempted than you’ll ever know. But I’ve got this horrible feeling that you’d regret it in the long run.’ Seeing her crestfallen expression, he turned his chair towards her and took both her hands in his. ‘Listen, Leah, find yourself first before you make a commitment. There’s so much you could do with your life.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ Hurt that he hadn’t accepted her offer eagerly, she pulled her hands away. ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know — anything. You mentioned that Bill had suggested going into business on your own.’

  ‘I couldn’t do what he suggested. I don’t want to take chances with someone else’s money. Anyway, I don’t fancy a mobile catering service.’

  ‘Then why not take over Bella’s?’

  ‘Bella’s? She stared at him, then gave an ironic laugh. ‘It’s for sale. Where would I get that kind of money?’

  ‘The bank.’ When she shook her head, he added: ‘Well, you could at least try. Reach up, Leah. Set your sights high and do your darnedest to reach them. You can do it.’

  ‘What you’re really saying is that you’re afraid you’d get bored, having me hanging around.’

  He got up from the table and began to clear the dirty dishes. ‘If you only knew how wrong you are, Leah. What I am afraid of is catching you when you’re vulnerable. You’ve got a lot of thinking to do; thinking you should have done long ago. You’ve let your search for your mother eclipse everything else. It’s been your only motivation. Take some time to find out who you are and what you really want from life.’ He pulled her to her feet and put his arms around her. ‘Believe me, having you around permanently is just about the most desirable thing I can think of. But I’ll still be here when you’ve made up your mind, you know.’

  ‘You might not be,’ she said ruefully. ‘You might meet someone else and fall in love with her.’

  ‘And so might you.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Good, then neither will I.’ He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Now come and help me do the washing up. This is my last night, remember?’

  Much later, after they had made love and Leah lay with her head in the hollow of his neck, she said: ‘Suppose I asked you to marry me — would that convince you that I’m serious?’

  ‘It’d convince me that you think you are. That’s not the same thing.’

  ‘So what would you say?’

  His arm tightened round her but he didn’t open his eyes. ‘I’d say you were feeling ever so slightly insecure.’

  ‘Don’t hedge. Would you, Tel? Would you marry me?’ When he didn’t reply she tugged hard at the hair on his chest.

  ‘Ow!’ He sat up and looked down at her. ‘Listen to me, Leah Dobson. If you think I’d marry a girl with sadistic tendencies you’ve got another think coming.’

  He kissed her and then wrapped his arms around her, pulling the covers up warmly around them both. ‘Are you going to let me get some sleep now? I’ve got an early start in the morning, remember?’

  She snuggled close. ‘Okay, you win.’ After a moment she murmured into his neck: ‘I’m going to miss you, Tel.’

  ‘Mmm. Me too.’

  ‘And I do know what I want, you know.’

  ‘Right. I’ll ask you the same questions a year from now and we’ll see, shall we?’

  ‘Oh, all right.’ Her lips moved against his skin, tickling his neck. ‘I love you, Tel.’

  He squeezed her. ‘I love you too.’

  ‘’Night.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  She fell asleep almost at once but Terry lay for some time, listening to her regular breathing. Being close — making love with Leah had been very special; something he’d dreamed about, wondering often how it would be, but never really believing it would ever happ
en. Because he loved her it was even more wonderful than any of his dreams; passionate, yet tender and poignant. But perversely, part of him wished now that it hadn’t happened. He was pretty sure that Leah had a long way to go before she became a whole person and if she tired of him or changed her mind, it would be so much harder to bear now that they had taken their relationship a step further. He raised himself on one elbow to look down at her in the soft moonlight that filled the room. With her dark hair spread out on the pillow and the vibrant features in repose she looked happy and at peace. If only he could take her at her word when she said she loved him. If only they could stay like this, he thought wistfully.

  *

  It was still dark when he was packed and ready to leave next morning. He hadn’t wakened Leah, snatching a quick breakfast of toast and coffee downstairs in the kitchen. Now he stood by the bed, looking down at her as she slept. A strand of dark hair lay across her forehead and her cheeks were rosy with sleep. One arm lay across his pillow as though she had reached out for him. It was so tempting to wake her for one last kiss, but he knew that if he did their parting would be almost impossible. Tucking the brief note he had written under the edge of her pillow, he lifted his case and tiptoed out, closing the door softly behind him.

  *

  Ralph had returned from Norfolk the following day, his mood still unrepentant. In his absence, David had enlisted the help of an independent accountant and a solicitor and the Evanses had spent all day with the two men, trying to untangle the crippled finances of Evans Hotels. The accountant went through the books that Ralph had brought with him from Norfolk. From time to time he glanced up with a sigh and at the end of his examination his advice was the same as that given by Ralph’s accountant. Voluntary bankruptcy.

  The solicitor agreed. ‘You can file your own petition and it will be heard in the County Court,’ he explained. ‘The hotels and effects will be sold off to pay the outstanding debts.’ Looking at Marie’s worried face he added: ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Evans, you won’t be left destitute. The law is not as harsh as it once was. It now requires that you have enough left to provide you with a home. I suggest that we file as soon as possible.’