Different Genes

  “Wow! Thank you so much for ringing me. You are the first person I’ve spoken to, apart from Ruby, who actually knew her. This is amazing.” Louise signalled to Simon that the call was significant. He came and stood beside her and listened.

  “I looked after Cathy from two years after she was admitted, until she passed away. I loved her like my own family. I have so much to tell you about her.”

  Martha invited Louise and Simon to her home.

  Once again, they journeyed to Kent, staying this time in Rochester. They revisited Penhurst Crescent, and Hellingham House. However, neither of them suggested a visit to the churchyard. They seemed to have a silent pact that they were not yet ready. On the appointed day, Louise and Simon found Martha’s house. It was an unimposing housing association end terrace on the outskirts of Rochester. Louise rang the bell, and Martha answered straight away.

  “You have the look of your grandma.”

  Martha showed them into her front room and nervously offered tea.

  Suddenly Louise went rigid. “You have one of my watercolours on your wall!”

  “That’s not yours. Cathy painted it.”

  And Louise realised that this painting, with a style so like her own, had been painted by her grandmother. The swirling image of a tree-filled park also contained an adult and a child. The child looked like the image of Louise outside Hellingham House.

  “I have so much to tell you,” said Martha.

  Simon and Louise sat quietly ready to listen.

  “Cathy was very distressed, when she was first admitted to ‘Three Trees’. When I was appointed, she had been there for over two years, and was still often sedated. She was frequently agitated and strapped into a chair. She mentioned your name constantly, but was obviously no longer capable of looking after a young child. As I got to know Cathy better, I noticed she was very creative. I set up an art workshop, and it had an amazingly calming effect on her. The picture on my wall is one of the first she ever painted. I thought it was so good, and she gave it to me as a present. Cathy painted a lot in the home, before she really deteriorated. She was very young to have memory loss, but the doctors suspected that the trauma of Patricia’s death, and not being allowed to grieve had brought on her early onset dementia. We weren’t supposed to accept gifts from residents, but Cathy insisted that I took the painting. I had it framed. You must take it home with you Louise. I want you to have it. The painting belongs to you.”

  And Martha explained more to Louise about the art classes in the home, and about her nana’s obsession with the baby doll. She insisted that Louise be given the painting to take home.

  “Do you know where Nana is buried?” asked Louise.

  “If I remember rightly, she is buried at the convent in Chatham with Patricia. I went to her funeral to represent ‘Three Trees’.”

  They shared memories and history for over two hours, until Louise felt that they had taken up enough of Martha’s time.

  “Thank you for being so kind to my grandma. I feel better knowing that you were there for her.”

  Simon noticed that both women were fighting back their tears. As he carried the painting to his car, he turned to Louise. “Looks like we have yet another painting for our new home.”

  Thirty-Five

  A Wedding in Brighton

  Bob finally admitted to the police that he had persuaded Joan to pay him £25,000 in return for his silence about Louise’s adoption.

  “That is really wicked,” declared Louise, “He knew Mum was dying. That is just extortion.” She could barely contain her anger, “I’d like to… how could he be so vile?”

  The money was eventually returned to Joan’s estate. Bob received a five-year sentence for stalking, and a permanent court order to keep his distance from Simon and Louise. Simon was seriously worried that Bob might return to his old ways, when eventually released, but the police pointed out that, if he survived his stretch in jail, Bob would be well into his seventies by the end of his prison term. His mobility was deteriorating, and it was likely he would end up in a care home.

  Ever since the incident at the studio, Louise had refused to stay there alone, so, although in theory they still stuck to the two-week plan, they tended to extend their stays in Battle and spend shorter periods in Robertsbridge. Simon would always accompany Louise to the studio when she collected her post and checked the ansaphone. Nevertheless, Louise and Simon began to feel more secure with each other and learned to talk through their concerns.

  “You know what worries me most?” Louise admitted to Simon, “That early dementia is hereditary. That one day you will find me wandering around Robertsbridge, not knowing where I live.”

  Simon laughed out loud. “Cathy was a lot younger than you, when she lost it, and Martha did say that it may have been caused by trauma. In any case you are one of the most alert people I know. I am far more forgetful than you.”

  “Promise me that you’ll tell me, if you notice any signs.”

  “I promise. And you have forgotten that you offered me a coffee.”

  Louise’s face fell. “I don’t remember that.”

  Simon chuckled. “I was teasing you. I made it up. I just wanted a coffee.” He stood up and made them both a drink. They sat at the studio table drinking coffee, while Louise sifted through the junk mail to see if there were any letters worth reading. She opened an embossed, multi-coloured envelope and read the contents. “We’ve been invited to a wedding.”

  “Whose?”

  “Gillian and Catherine. They are getting married at The Royal Victoria in Brighton.”

  “Wow!”

  “The last time I went to The Royal Victoria was when my parents met Mandy and Stewart. Mandy bought a cashmere twinset especially for the occasion.”

  “Please promise me you won’t buy a cashmere twinset.”

  Louise laughed, “I promise. It will be the first wedding we have been invited to as a proper couple.”

  “As opposed to an improper couple. I’m pleased they have invited us.”

  “I expect Michelle will be there.”

  “After all we’ve been through, I think we can cope with Michelle,” responded Simon.

  “She’s still very attractive. You’ll like her.”

  “No-one compares with you, Louise.”

  “Flatterer!”

  The day of the wedding arrived quickly.

  Louise had bought an expensive new floaty outfit and banished Simon to the spare bedroom in Battle, while she got ready. Simon changed into his suit, while Louise was dressing. When she came downstairs he was sitting, suited, waiting for her to appear. He stood up to admire her. Louise just stared at him.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s the first time I’ve seen you wear a suit, Simon. You look amazing.”

  “I used to wear a suit every day for work, but you get out of the habit. Actually, this tie is very uncomfortable.”

  Simon drove Louise to Brighton and pulled up on the seafront outside the Royal Victoria Hotel. He handed his keys to the concierge, and they walked into the imposing lobby area. A porter showed them to the wedding suite. A crystal chandelier shot arcs of coloured light across the ceiling, and seventy beautifully upholstered chairs were laid out in lines. The room was already half full. Eyes turned as Louise and Simon entered. Even in their sixties, their good looks effortlessly commanded attention.

  “Who are all these people?” Simon asked.

  “Work colleagues and friends, I suppose… and a few family members. Michelle is over there with her third husband. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  They walked over to Michelle. “How are you? This is Simon.”

  “And this is Anthony.”

  The men shook hands, and Simon and Louise returned to their seats. “I’m glad that’s over
. He looks quite nice, her latest bloke. And you were wrong about Michelle. I don’t fancy her… too… fluffy.”

  A side door opened, and the registrar entered the room with her assistant. They stood behind the ornate rectangular table. Then the wide double doors opened at the rear of the suite. A single flute began to play Pachelbel’s Canon, and the couple walked down the central aisle. Simon had not yet met Gillian, so he turned in curiosity. Gillian and Catherine were wearing matching oyster dresses and each carrying a single red rose. Gillian’s red hair, helped back to its original shade by an upmarket hairdresser in Brighton, had been cut and shaped in curls to just below her shoulders. Both women looked at their very best.

  At the end of the ceremony the congregation clapped, and a keyboard player accompanied the flautist in a rendition of ‘The Wind Beneath My Wings’, while the couple signed the book. Simon gripped Louise’s hand.

  The wedding breakfast consisted of a lavish five-course meal served at tables by white-gloved waiters. They were seated in a beautifully appointed private dining room with more chandeliers hanging from high ceilings. Handwritten name cards in italic script ensured that Louise and Michelle were seated apart. After the meal, both Catherine and Gillian made a short speech. They described each other with fondness and thanked those people who had supported them over the years. Gillian mentioned Louise as her oldest friend and embarrassed both Louise and Simon, by saying she hoped their wedding would be next. Louise looked away from Michelle.

  Louise and Simon chatted in the car on their journey home.

  “Well that was some ‘do’.”

  Simon broached the subject of a wedding, “Is it the sort of occasion you would want if we ever married?”

  Louise took a deep breath, “Not really, Simon, unless you would like it. It must have cost a fortune, and it’s not as if it would be the first time for either of us. I think I’d rather have a quiet, low key, celebration and a decent holiday.”

  Simon grinned, “Well that’s a relief!”

  Louise continued the conversation, “If we ever do decide to marry, and we really don’t have to unless you want to, then I’d like to enjoy it. I don’t want to be bogged down by a thousand arrangements. The other thing is, I am so weary with planning the move and everything else which has happened. I don’t think I could cope with arranging anything else at the moment. I just want to enjoy living in our new home together.”

  They sat in silence for several miles before Louise spoke again, “Tell me what you are thinking, Simon.”

  “I’m thinking that you are right. We are both knackered, and we still have the visit to the convent to arrange. But, at the same time, I would like to marry you, to make us ‘official’.”

  Louise tried to say something positive.

  “Funnily enough, the one thing I really want is to take your name, to be known as ‘Mrs Ellis.’”

  The thought pleased Simon, “You could do that now, if you wished, take my name.”

  “That would feel like cheating.”

  They arrived back in Battle. Each a little dissatisfied with the conversation. They changed out of their wedding clothes, and sat eating toast and drinking coffee. Simon was hesitant, “Lou, there’s something I want to ask you. You remember when I got cross because you lied about the counselling?”

  “I’ll never forget it.”

  “It was really because I felt cheated on in my marriage to Julie. I guess I am a bit insecure in that respect. Our marriage can wait, it needs to wait, but I would like to do something to make us ‘official’. I want to buy you a ring, an engagement ring. You could wear it as confirmation of a promise, your promise that you will marry me and become Mrs Ellis as soon as you feel able.” He looked at her, “You’re going to cry again, aren’t you? I can feel it coming on. Every time I get loving or romantic, you cry.” The words were spoken with affection.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed as the tears appeared once more. Simon pulled a tissue from his pocket. “I should have shares in these, you get through so many.”

  “I can’t help it. You make me so happy.”

  “Can I take that as a yes, then, about the ring?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll do it next week, before you change your mind. Maybe go to Rye? Unless you would prefer me to use the shopping channel?”

  Louise laughed through her sobs.

  The matter was settled.

  The Final Chapter

  It is April 2018, some sixteen months after Louise first discovered that she was adopted. Both the studio and Simon’s house in Battle are sold, and Louise and Simon have finally purchased a new home together. It is a converted oast house a few miles from Westfield, East Sussex, the village where Simon lived as a boy. There is a spiral staircase in the living room, which leads to an open plan mezzanine area with far reaching views over the Sussex countryside and the sea beyond. Louise uses the space to paint, but still feels part of the family home. Nana’s painting of the grandmother and child is on the wall.

  Simon and Louise have further discussed the possibility of marriage, but neither of them feels sufficiently energetic yet to make the arrangements. Louise is now wearing an antique diamond cluster engagement ring set in white gold. It is a classical design. Joan would have approved.

  Louise and Simon are travelling in Simon’s Mercedes and have reached the outskirts of Chatham. It is their first trip to Kent since the move.

  Spring has taken hold of the weather, and Simon and Louise feel the heat of the rays through the car windows. They arrive in Chatham in bright sunshine. Simon notices a judder in the gearbox of his Mercedes, as he turns towards the entrance of the convent.

  ‘I really must persuade Louise that buying myself a new expensive car would be a good investment,’ he thinks to himself, ‘But maybe not today.’

  Louise gets out of the car and rings the bell on the tall cast iron gates. The gates open automatically. Simon notices a camera above the gate post.

  “Not short of money, the Catholic Church,” he remarks to Louise, trying to ease the tension. A young nun in a mid-blue outfit, wearing a matching headscarf directs them to a parking space.

  “Mr Ellis, Mrs Watson, welcome to the Sisters of Mercy. I am Sister Charlotte. I’m sorry about the heavy gates. We are supposed to be an open community, but the Bishop insisted on some extra security after the latest threat. I’m going to take you to see the graves straight away, as that is the main purpose of your visit.”

  She speaks with a slight northern accent. Both Simon and Louise are surprised and feel guilty at their bias. They had somehow assumed that all nuns were Irish.

  “Over the past twenty years, things have changed a lot,” explains Sister Charlotte. “We try to reach out to the community with love and forgiveness. We have done our best to show recompense for our past lack of compassion. For example, we’ve made great efforts to create a tranquil place of rest. We have planted bulbs, and replaced the sign which said ‘Illegitimates’ with something more sympathetic. We did think about rewriting the gravestones, but they are part of the deceased’s history, so we decided to leave them unchanged. I hope you like what we have done. I see you have brought some daffodils with you. We will find an outdoor vase to stand between the graves. They will last longer that way.

  Sister Charlotte leads them along a wooded path to a clearing at the back of the convent. It is full of creamy narcissus and purple crocus. Louise holds back the tears. The little wooden sign at the side of the graveyard says ‘Mothers and Babies. Loved by our Father in Heaven’.

  A tear escapes onto Louise’s cheek. Simon grips her hand.

  Sister Charlotte points to Patricia’s grave, “Your mother is resting there, with her mother next to her.”

  Sister Charlotte crosses herself and steps backwards. Louise bends down and reads the words which are engraved on each
gravestone. One says ‘Catherine Makepiece’, and on the small headstone beside it are engraved the words ‘Patricia Makepiece’. The stones have obviously been cleaned of moss and lichen prior to their visit. Simon’s eyes feel tearful, and he pinches himself hard. Louise moves to the back of Patricia’s stone and sees the kiss which Ruby secretly carved over sixty-two years ago.

  “I must take a photo to show Ruby’s daughter. Ruby would have been so pleased that the kiss is still here.”

  “Are you alright, Louise?” Simon just manages to hold back his own watery emotion, and watches the unstoppable tears stream down Louise’s face. He hands her yet another tissue.

  “I’m fine. I am not crying with sadness, just pure emotion. She was only fifteen, Simon. What a terrible way to end a young life”. A second nun brings a heavy pottery vase full of liquid from the direction of the convent. Louise carefully places the daffodils in the vase, and takes another photo. “I think it’s time to go now. I can only manage so much crying in one day.”

  “You can return any time you wish,” says Sister Charlotte.

  As they walk towards the car, Simon puts his arm around Louise. “You were so brave. This must be the most important moment of your life.”

  “Actually, Simon, meeting you was the most important moment of my life, but this comes a very close second.”