Different Genes

by Claire Baldry

  Simon shook his head. “I… I really like her, Joe.”

  “Then it’s about time I met her don’t you think?”

  “Okay, soon, but I don’t know whether to tell her or not.”

  “Look, Dad you’re damned if you do, and damned if you don’t. If she finds out you knew and didn’t tell her, that’s you dumped!! It might even help you both, if she found out the truth. Less sleep walking! How have you left it with Michael?”

  “I’ve arranged to go and see Michael and Karen without Lou knowing. I was hoping you might come with me.”

  Joe looked at his father for a long time. “This will cost you a lot of pints.”

  Simon felt very guilty about deceiving Louise. She had settled down after their last visit to Joan’s bungalow, and he felt all the responsibility of the trust, which she had placed in him. He had also promised he would return to the bungalow with Louise, but neither of them had, as yet, decided when to go. Simon secretly hoped he might persuade Joe to come with them to the bungalow as well. It was a big ask, but Joe did owe him for all those years of emergency unpaid child-minding of Sophie. Simon wouldn’t say that to Joe though.

  In the meantime, he told Louise that Joe was coming with him on a business trip to visit a client in Hertfordshire. He said the arrangement had been made before he met Louise.

  “That’s a shame, I could have cadged a lift and visited my cousin, Karen.”

  Louise saw Simon’s change of expression, “Oh sorry, Simon. You want some time alone with Joe. I was being thoughtless.”

  Simon invented an explanation, “Normally, I would take you along, but I have promised Joe, and I don’t want him to feel you are coming between us.”

  “Does he think that?”

  “Not at all, but I want to keep it that way.”

  Simon collected Joe at 8 am. Sophie, in school uniform, was standing at the door with her mother ready to wave at her grandad. Simon got out of the car and gave her a hug. “You look very smart, Sophie. Is Daddy ready?”

  “He’s just finishing a coffee,” said Caroline. “Good luck today, Simon.”

  When Joe had insisted on telling Caroline the reason for their journey, Simon had at first protested.

  “No more secrets, Dad, or this will get totally out of hand.”

  As they sped up the road, Sophie jumped up and down and waved.

  “She is so lovely,” smiled Simon.

  “You wouldn’t say that at 6 am when she jumps on the bed.”

  “Probably not, but I could pass her over to Louise.”

  It was the first time that Simon had been explicit to his son about sharing a bed with Louise, though he and Caroline had assumed they did.

  “At least they can’t have children of their own and disinherit you,” Caroline had remarked.

  The journey took over three hours. Simon drove on the understanding that Joe would take the wheel on the return trip. Joe liked to drive his Dad’s Mercedes, when he got the chance. They crawled up the A21 past the roadworks at Pembury and finally emerged from the Dartford tunnel at about 10 am.

  “Do you want to stop for breakfast?” asked Simon.

  “Not unless you do. Let’s just get there.”

  After a brief comfort break south of the M11, they embarked on the final leg of the journey, and soon turned off towards Sawbridgeworth. Joe had the map, in case the Sat Nav got them lost. Father and son had conversed very little during the drive, but Simon now parked in a side road and spoke, “I’m just going to ring Louise.”

  She answered quickly, “Hi Simon, is everything alright?”

  “Fine. I just wanted you to know we have arrived at the client’s. I’m running a bit late, so we need to go in.”

  “Okay, I won’t hold you up then.” Louise kept the conversation short, because she knew that Joe was in the car.

  “Have you decided what you are going to say, Dad?”

  “I think so, but I will have to let them take the lead.”

  The house in Sawbridgeworth was a large semi-detached in one of many tree-lined residential roads. It was rather a quaint place which looked like it had evolved slightly haphazardly over several decades. Simon was surprised how much he liked it. He parked his car on the newly-paved brick block drive as instructed. “This house must be worth a bit,” said Joe, “We are in prime commuter land.”

  Michael opened the front door, and Simon and Joe climbed out of the Mercedes. Simon shook Michael’s hand, “This is my older son, Joe.”

  Karen had watched discreetly through the window, as the two tall men approached the house. She couldn’t help but be impressed by the car.

  They were both offered a seat in the living room. Joe and Simon noticed a slight smell of stale cigarettes.

  “Can I get you a coffee?” asked Karen, “Or tea?”

  “It’s a long journey for you, do you need the bathroom?” added Michael. Simon gratefully stood up, and was followed by Joe. It took ten minutes for the four of them to be seated once more with coffee cups in hand. Simon estimated that the couple were in their late seventies. They looked nervous.

  “What do you need to know?” asked Michael.

  “Can you tell me about the circumstances of Louise’s birth?” Simon chose his words carefully.

  Karen began to speak, “We know nothing about Louise’s birth. Joan and Peter brought Louise back to Sawbridgeworth from Kent when she was three. I believe they collected her from a children’s home in Chatham.”

  “She wasn’t born in Singapore then?”

  “No.”

  “How on earth was the adoption kept secret? Didn’t the family and neighbours notice when Louise suddenly appeared in the house?”

  “Joan and Peter had only been back in the UK a few weeks, and they had very recently purchased a house. They pretended that Louise was born in Singapore and had travelled back with them. Even Louise’s grandparents believed the story.”

  “So why were you told?”

  “Peter was a talented linguist, and he transferred to the Diplomatic Service after the war. The family always believed that Joan had married rather well. They had servants in Singapore, and returning to the UK was a bit of a shock to Joan. I was eighteen and living just around the corner from their house. Joan employed me as an unofficial mother’s help. It was far better than being a shorthand typist. I was at their house the day after they brought Louise back.”

  “Were you the only one who knew?”

  “At that time, yes, I think so. I was sworn to secrecy.”

  “Why was it so important to keep it a secret?”

  Karen thought before responding, “This was the 1950s. There was still some shame in adoption, as most adopted babies were illegitimate. People tended not to discuss it, and I don’t think Peter and Joan wanted anyone to know they couldn’t have children. Peter was a bit of a snob, but he adored Louise. I also believe that the welfare people advised Joan not to tell Louise. Someone mentioned police involvement. I don’t know why. We never discussed it after that. I only told Michael years later, after Peter died and Joan had moved away. I wish I hadn’t now.”

  “Michael couldn’t have known I would become friends with Louise.”

  “You’re not going to tell her, are you? Why drag up the past?”

  Simon began to feel angry.

  “Do you realise that Louise has an eye test every year, because Joan had glaucoma? I hope no one in your family ever needs a transplant or the doctors might cut her up under false pretences!”

  Karen and Michael exchanged glances, and Joe gave his father a kick.

  Simon became calmer, “I’m sorry, but this has put me in a very difficult position. I have become very fond of Louise, and I don’t want to deceive her. She has recurring nightmares about her early childhood and she ha
s a phobia about the dark. There might be a connection with her adoption. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  Just after midday, they said a courteous farewell, and Joe took the wheel of the car. He stopped at the first service station, sat his father down, and brought them both a sandwich.

  “Are you alright, Dad?”

  “No, I am very angry.”

  “It’s not really Karen’s fault. She was asked by Joan to keep the secret. I thought you were going to lose it big time.”

  “I came close. What would you do, Joe?”

  Joe thought for what seemed like several minutes. “I would tell her. She has a right to know.”

  “I’m pleased you said that, Joe, because that is what I have definitely decided to do.”

  Twenty-Four

  Confession

  Simon arrived back in Battle late that afternoon. He ate supper at Joe and Caroline’s, and returned to his house. He phoned Louise.

  “Are you back in Battle? Did it go well?” she asked.

  “So, so. I was pleased to have Joe with me. Lou, I am very tired, so won’t make it to yours this evening. I will come round first thing tomorrow morning. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Louise went cold. “Should I be worried?”

  “Please don’t worry, Lou, I will explain when I see you.”

  Louise worried all night.

  Simon turned up at 8.30 am. Louise was already dressed and making coffee. She watched him let himself in carrying an enormous bunch of flowers.

  “These are for you.”

  “They are beautiful, Simon. Are they connected to what you have to tell me?”

  “In a way. I have deceived you, but I had a good reason.”

  “You’re not still married?”

  “No, stupid. God forbid. Look, Louise, just shut up, will you, and hear me out? This is not going to be easy, and you are going to get a shock.”

  The flowers lay discarded on the side of the sink. Louise sat down and was silent. Simon paced the room.

  “You remember I told you that, after your mum’s funeral, Michael came over and spoke to me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he didn’t know that you and I would meet, so you can’t really blame him, but I am a bit cross.”

  “Simon, you are not making sense.”

  “Bear with me, Lou. On the day of Joan’s funeral, Michael let slip something about you. It’s something you don’t seem to know, something massively important.”

  Simon took a very deep breath, “So yesterday I lied to you. I wasn’t really working. Joe and I went to visit Michael and Karen.”

  “How were they?” Louise asked without really thinking.

  “They were fine. Will you just let me get to the point? Karen told me that you didn’t go and live with Joan and Peter until you were three.”

  Simon paused again, “You are adopted.”

  Louise burst out crying. The tears poured down her cheeks, and she couldn’t stop.

  “Please don’t cry, darling. I know this must be such a shock for you.”

  “I am crying with relief, Simon. I thought you were going to say we were splitting up.” Louise laughed through her tears, and Simon tore off a piece of kitchen roll and handed it to her.

  “I’m pleased you’ve got your priorities right. Louise, did you actually take in what I just told you?”

  “I’m adopted. You’re not leaving me, are you?”

  “For God’s sake, Louise, I am not ever leaving you, unless you chuck me out. You have changed my life. I love you.”

  She stared at him, “I love you too. I’m sorry, I can’t seem to stop crying.”

  Louise walked over to the flowers and arranged them in a tall vase.

  “These are beautiful. I should get adopted more often.”

  “Please don’t. There is only so much kitchen roll in the world. Are you cross with me for deceiving you?”

  “Cross?” I think it’s wonderful that you would go all the way to Sawbridgeworth, just to find out for me. And Joe, he came with you. That was so kind.”

  “Any excuse to drive my car!”

  The reality of what Simon had told Louise began to sink in.

  “You are sure I am adopted, Simon? How did you find out?”

  “Yes, I am absolutely sure.”

  And Simon told Louise the story of his conversation with Michael outside the café in Fairlight, and how it was a long time before he realised that Louise didn’t know.

  “If it hadn’t been for the eye test letter, I might still believe you knew.”

  “Three, I was three before I was adopted? I have so much to think about.”

  Louise couldn’t settle. She paced the floor of her studio and kept looking out of the window. She asked Simon the same questions over and over again.

  “I can’t make any sense of what you have told me, and yet it does make sense. Why on earth didn’t they tell me?”

  “I’ve told you that already, Louise. Asking the same question repeatedly will not provide more answers. Do you really want to know more?”

  “I really want to know more.”

  Karen said that the police had been involved in your removal to the children’s home. Are you sure you want to know? The truth might be uncomfortable.”

  “I have to know, Simon, as much as I can find out. Apart from anything else, it might stop these bloody nightmares.”

  “Well, as long as you are sure. We can start searching for clues. What else was in that folder with your school report?”

  “I never looked. You seduced me, and I forgot all about it.”

  Simon grinned. “I haven’t forgotten I seduced you.”

  “That’s not what I meant. You know it isn’t.”

  Simon kissed her on the mouth very deliberately. “I’m just remembering.”

  Louise relaxed and took the folder out of the drawer.

  She skimmed through the contents.

  There were three school reports, a copy of a shortened birth certificate, a black-and-white photograph, and a receipt for a £50 donation to Hellingham House in Chatham in Kent. Simon looked at the receipt, and Louise looked at the photograph. She recognised it from when Joan had showed it to her in Sawbridgeworth all those years ago. Joan’s writing was now on the back. It said, ‘Our precious Louise, August 1958’.

  Simon searched the internet for Hellingham House.

  Wikipedia: ‘Hellingham House, former children’s home, which closed in the early 1980s due to increased demand for fostering. Now houses council offices and social services’

  There was a photograph.

  He called Louise over to look, “Is this familiar?”

  “Not at all, but this is.”

  Louise showed Simon the black-and-white photo of a child with a suitcase. He examined it closely. It had a paperclip indent on the top right hand corner, identical to a rusty mark on the receipt from Hellingham House.

  “I think this photo was once attached to this receipt.”

  Louise said, “The little girl in the photo is me, and I gave that suitcase to the charity shop in Fairlight the day after Mum’s funeral. It was in the loft at Fairlight.”

  “Bloody Hell! We need it back. It might contain something useful, and it is one of the few links to your past.”

  Louise and Simon stared at each other.

  “Do you want to go to Fairlight and try to rescue the case? We don’t have to visit the bungalow as well, if that’s too much for you.”

  “Yes, I mean maybe. Perhaps we should phone first. It was the Cancer Research shop.”

  Simon found the number on the internet.

  “Oh yes, hello, my name is Simon Ellis. My wife, Louise, donated a
small old suitcase to you a few weeks ago. We just wondered if it had sold. It has great sentimental value, and my wife has decided she would like it back. What does it look like? It’s a 1950s design, brown leather, (Louise nodded), expensive looking, about the width of a briefcase, but obviously deeper.”

  Simon went silent and then gave the shop his mobile number. “They will ring me back. Sorry about the wife bit. I wanted to sound as credible as possible. Lou, I think we should make a plan. You need to find all the papers that your mum left. We must examine every single one for clues. Let’s take a folder to the pub.”

  Louise gave Simon a curious look. “I do believe you are enjoying this.”

  “Of course not, I’m doing it for you.” She looked doubtful.

  “Well maybe a little. It is interesting.”

  “What if we discover my real parents were serial killers?”

  “I will hide the kitchen knives.”

  Louise and Simon found Joan’s folders and put them in a bag. They locked up and walked to The Ostrich for lunch.

  “I need wine,” announced Louise.

  “I need to share your wine,” Simon agreed, and they ordered a bottle of house red. Simon looked at the large bag of folders, and then the bottle. “We might need more wine.”

  They tucked themselves into a corner of the pub and opened a folder each. “I think we should each look at every piece of paper in case one of us misses something,” instructed Simon. The arrival of lunch was an unwanted intrusion into their investigation, but they set aside their papers and ate. They had chosen extravagantly, as a mark of the importance of the occasion. Their shared platter engaged them in mutual activity, and they were diverted from the paperwork. Simon changed the subject.

  “What are you doing for Christmas?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You are invited to Joe and Caroline’s… with me of course. Oliver will come over in the evening. We can stay at my place afterwards and watch the ‘no fox’ hunt on Boxing Day.”

  Louise felt petrified at the thought of having to fit into someone else’s traditional family Christmas, “That would be lovely.”

  Simon and Louise’s motivation was dulled with the alcohol and food, but each picked up one last piece of paper. Simon examined a bank statement from Joan’s final 2016 account. “Who is R. Gresham?”