Finding Lucy

by Diana Finley

  ‘You’re doing fine. There’s no rush. We’ll get a taxi at the top,’ I said firmly. Again, she didn’t argue. This compliance of hers was a strange new experience. It took some getting used to.

  * * *

  ‘Mum, do you remember when I was a teenager, we once had a bit of a to-do over what I should call you? I wasn’t happy calling you Mummy. Do you remember?’

  ‘Yes …?’ she said cautiously, placing her teacup down with a shaky hand.

  ‘Well, I really don’t want to upset you, but I’d like to start calling you Alison now, rather than Mum … if you don’t mind.’

  She frowned. She looked from me to Guy and then studied me intensely.

  ‘Would it make any difference if I said I minded?’

  Guy sat upright and shifted in his chair. He gave her a steely look, as if ready to intervene if this turned into a “scene”. I glanced at him and turned back to Mum. We’d agreed we needed to have a meaningful conversation with her about a number of things. Names were one of them.

  ‘Well, no, not really, because I honestly feel it’s more appropriate to call you Alison … you know, in the circumstances.’

  ‘I can’t pretend I’ll like it, but I won’t argue with you this time, Lucy. I haven’t the energy.’

  ‘I know it may take a while to remember every time, for it to come naturally – for both of us.’

  She sniffed. ‘I’m sure we’ll get used to it, in time.’ One of her brisk responses.

  ‘Alison,’ said Guy, as if feeling the need to demonstrate use of the moniker I had newly assigned her.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You should understand that Lucy using your own name isn’t just a sudden whim. It’s part of what’s bound to be a long and maybe difficult process – of dealing with the reality of what’s happened and who you both are.’

  ‘Mmm? I’m not aware of having any difficulty understanding or “dealing with” who I am.’

  Anger immediately rose at this self-centred response. I stood up. ‘Maybe you haven’t, but my world has been pretty much turned upside down recently. I have to feel I can acknowledge the truth more openly, that I can make sense of it, if I’m to be able to accept it … psychologically.’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure I’d use your terminology, Lucy, but I do agree that, for everyone’s sake, there needs to be more open discussion. I haven’t failed to notice that you appear overly anxious, nervous, these days.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Guy. ‘I’m concerned about Lucy’s state of mind.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ I said irritably.

  Guy turned to Alison.

  ‘I had wanted us to take you over to Dumfriesshire to meet my parents at the weekend, Alison. I think it’s important for you to get to know one another – we both do. But Lucy isn’t happy with the idea just at this time.’

  ‘Oh?’ She looked at me quizzically.

  ‘Well, think about it, Mu … Alison. It doesn’t seem right to launch into the whole saga the first time you meet my future in-laws – and it certainly wouldn’t be right to pretend we’re a normal mother and daughter, and then to have to revise the whole story fundamentally at a later time,’ I said. ‘I think Guy and I should speak to them first, openly and honestly, to explain the situation. It’s going to take some time for them to absorb that information. It could be pretty shocking for them, but at least then there would be no secrets when you do meet them.’

  Alison looked distinctly displeased.

  ‘They’re hardly going to want anything to do with me once they know the truth. But if you two both feel that’s really best, I suppose I agree. I’ll just have to go along with what you decide.’

  * * *

  Guy and I planned to marry the following year. The original idea had been to announce our intention to his parents and to Alison together, during our visit to south-west Scotland. I already knew Alison would be pleased about our union. She’d made it clear that she approved of Guy. I was sure that his parents, Liam and Julia, would be delighted too. I’d met them on several occasions and felt confident that they liked me as much as I liked them.

  Guy had grown up in a talkative, argumentative and affectionate family, with a lively interest in politics and social issues. After growing up in the quiet of my home, my family consisting of just Alison and myself, I’d been astonished and a little intimidated by the noisy debates aired across the dining room table at Guy’s family home. He was the youngest of three children and the only son. His eldest sister Martha was a barrister, and second sister Helena a social worker. Liam and Julia were both GPs, nearing retirement, but still practising in Dumfries.

  It was a family with a strong belief in public service. Of course, they would have assumed I came from a relatively normal family too, in which case I’m convinced they would have approved of me as a daughter-in-law. But now that it was becoming clear my background was far from normal, how would they react when the truth emerged? My whole life had become one of uncertainties.

  It would be a while before we could have our “open and honest” session with Guy’s parents, and find out exactly how they would respond. Dealing with the sharing of information was turning into a major project, needing careful planning. After Alison returned to Newcastle, we decided to make a plan detailing exactly how we were going to progress the situation. We decided to start by making an action plan, listing and prioritising what we felt needed doing. Alison would have approved: she loved lists and timetables. However, Guy was shocked when he saw what I had written at the top of the list:

  ‘I thought you felt there was no great hurry to meet her yet?’ Guy asked with an anxious frown.

  ‘I know I thought that to start with, but it’s the one thing I know I’ve got to do – and the thing that terrifies me most. I can’t think about anything else. The longer I put it off, the more I’m going to obsess about it. Also, I can’t get Shelley out of my head; how she must have been yearning for me all this time, all these years. How might she feel if she discovered I had known about my background for some time but hadn’t tried to contact her? If we’re going to arrange to meet, isn’t it best to do it sooner rather than later?’

  Although I tried to speak firmly and with confidence, in reality the whole prospect terrified me. Yet, I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do.

  Shelley Watts was my mother after all, my birth mother, my biological mother, my real mother – whatever that meant. How could we deprive her of the knowledge that her daughter, stolen by a stranger at the age of two years and missing for over two decades, was alive and relatively well? I was well, wasn’t I? I was confused by the tangle of often conflicting feelings. Surely I should be longing to see her too, my own mother, who had clearly ached to see me? But how could I love a woman of whom I had no memory, whose face I couldn’t picture, who was, in effect, a total stranger? What if we didn’t even like each other?

  I did not explain our exact intentions to Alison. I phoned to ask if we could stay a night with her in Newcastle. We had friends to visit in the wider area, I told her, and it would break the journey from Edinburgh, make it more manageable. She was delighted. Of course it wouldn’t be too much for her, she assured us.

  Alison’s priorities had changed since becoming so ill. She had dispensed with some of her frugal attitudes. A pleasant Latvian woman, Elena, had been engaged to help with the heavier domestic chores on two days a week, cleaning, making up beds, washing and ironing, even a little shopping and cooking.

  Alison had instructed Elena in how to prepare vegetarian stuffed pancakes for supper. It had always been a favourite dish of mine. Elena was a quick learner; her pancakes were delicious. Alison ate little herself, but took pleasure in watching our enjoyment.

  ‘You should try to eat more, Alison,’ said Guy. ‘It’s important to keep your strength up.’

  ‘Oh I do, I do. Once this current round of chemotherapy ends, I’m sure my appetite will return.’

  Although we hadn’t yet told
Alison about the planned visit to Shelley, we had talked of the need to tell certain carefully selected people the truth about my abduction. She already knew that Cassie and Ed had been told. Next on the list were those who had regarded themselves – and whom we regarded – as close, long-standing and loyal friends; like Fiona and Simon, and Susan and Mike. Alison was anxious at the prospect.

  ‘The trouble is,’ she said, ‘that the more people who know, the more likely it is for the news to leak out somehow – and you’ve already made clear that you don’t want that to happen at this stage, Lucy. I just wonder if we shouldn’t wait a while – until after I’ve informed the police myself – “gone public” as you put it.’

  ‘That’s why we think it’s important that we talk to your special friends, and explain the exact situation in as calm an atmosphere as possible.’

  I felt considerably less confident about our prospective discussion than I tried to pretend to Alison.

  After a leisurely breakfast the next morning, we said our goodbyes and drove to Cassie’s parents’ house nearby, where Fiona and Simon were expecting us. I introduced Guy and there was lots of hugging and hand-shaking. Of course, I knew Cassie would have spoken to them, would have told them much of the story, as I had agreed she could, so they’d had some time to process the information. I trusted Fiona and Simon absolutely. I told Guy they had been almost like second parents to me.

  ‘Just how many parents can one girl cope with?’ he had joked.

  ‘This is going to be a very emotional, maybe traumatic, meeting for you, Lucy,’ Fiona said. ‘Are you quite prepared for that?’

  ‘Yes, I think I am – with Guy’s support. It may not be straightforward. For a start, we can’t be completely sure we’ll even find Shelley. Even if we find where she lives, she may not be home. We’ll just have to see what happens.’

  ‘Does Alison know what you’re doing?’

  ‘No, not yet. We’ll have to prepare her very carefully for that. She’s not strong mentally or physically at the moment. I’m so grateful for the support you’re giving her.’

  ‘I have to admit we were deeply shocked to learn what she did when you were a small child. We can hardly approve of her action. I know she’s an … unusual person, but really there’s no excuse for such a wicked act. At the same time, she’s clearly very vulnerable now, and we know you would want us to help her as best we can.’

  ‘I really appreciate that.’

  ‘You’re a very special girl, Lucy. This is an unspeakable horror to put you through – I’m really not sure she deserves your love and consideration in view of what she did to you – and to your original family.’

  ‘Well at least Alison does now recognise the wrong she did. She really wants to face up to her crime – it’s me who can’t face the result just yet.’

  ‘We’ll do whatever makes the situation easier – or less awful – for you, Lucy darling.’

  Fiona got up and hugged me.

  ‘You do know there’s been a setback with the treatment, do you? She’s not doing so well lately.’

  ‘Yes, she told us about it. She’s looking more poorly, we thought.’

  ‘Good thing you’re here with Lucy, Guy,’ said Simon. ‘However it turns out, it’s going to be tough. She’s going to need a lot of support.’

  * * *

  Next, we had arranged to meet Susan and Mike in a quiet café not far from home. I was more apprehensive about their reaction, as this would be completely new information for them. Since my teens, when my friendship with Cassie had become so central to my life, I had seen more of and become closer to Simon and Fiona. Still, I knew Susan had been an unfailingly loyal friend to Alison.

  ‘Lucy! It’s wonderful to see you – and Guy – how lovely to meet you! Come and sit down, both of you. What a pity Claire and Charlie aren’t in Newcastle just now – they’d have loved to catch up with you. Never mind, Mike’s here. He’s just parking the car – he’ll be thrilled to see you.’

  ‘Thanks, Susan, it’s lovely to see you too,’ I said, ‘but I’m afraid we can’t stay long … I’ve really just come to talk to you … about … about Alison.’

  ‘Yes, I know, she’s taken a turn for the worse, poor thing. Listen, just sit down and I’ll go and order us some coffee. Would you like some cake? Lucy, you look beautiful, but you’re a bit on the thin side, darling. Are you eating properly? Oh listen to me fussing – all “Mumsy”! I’ll be back in a minute.’

  She bustled over to the counter. Guy and I exchanged glances.

  ‘Oh God,’ I whispered, ‘I hope this is OK …’

  * * *

  They both looked absolutely stunned when I finished talking. For a few moments neither of them spoke. A range of horrified expressions passed over their faces as they considered what I had told them. Mike shook his head in disbelief. Susan covered her face with her hands. Her expression changed slowly from horror to fury.

  ‘It’s unbelievable,’ she said. ‘It’s utterly unbelievable. How could she do that to you, Lucy? How could she have kept it up all those years? Lying to you over and over again, lying to me, lying to everyone. I tried to be a friend to her, even though she was jolly hard work sometimes! I gave her every chance to confide in me, but … but she just told one lie after another. I see that now. To pretend your father had died! And then your grandparents … When one lie ceased to work, she simply replaced it with another.’

  Susan shook her head and looked from one of us to the other.

  ‘You know what?’ she continued. ‘All this doesn’t totally surprise me. Some years ago, I think she almost told me. She started talking of doing something wrong – she hinted at having committed a crime. Then I guess she chickened out from revealing the whole story, because she suddenly told me that you weren’t her real child. She didn’t say she’d abducted you; she claimed to have adopted you – do you remember, Lucy? It’s what she told you too, isn’t it?

  ‘I never thought it rang completely true – not that I was actually expecting this, but I sensed there was a deep secret at the centre of her life, a dark secret. Adopted you indeed! What kind of a woman is she? How can anyone be so cold and calculating? She cared nothing for any of us all this time, did she? It’s … it’s frightening; it’s sinister! Well, you’re going straight to the police, aren’t you, Lucy? We’ll help you all we can. I’m a solicitor, remember – I’ve got lots of contacts in the legal world.’

  I sat frozen, deeply frightened by Susan’s reaction. I could not speak. Guy held my hand and squeezed me gently.

  ‘Susan, Mike,’ he said quietly, ‘Lucy has been struggling to come to terms with finding out about her abduction. We’re just on our way to try to make contact with her biological mother in Riddlesfield. Of course this news has come as a shock for you both, and we understand your anger and resentment, Susan. But Lucy – in fact, we both – take the view that Alison’s action was part of a general mental disturbance, a personality disorder if you like. That is not to excuse what she did, or the lies she told – but we feel extreme vindictiveness or a desire for retribution is not helpful at this time, certainly not for Lucy. Imagine the effect on her if this news goes viral …’

  ‘Oh that’s all very reasonable, Guy, but has Alison given a moment’s consideration to the effect on Lucy? I don’t think so! If anyone has been vindictive it’s her! She’s stolen someone’s child, for heaven’s sake. I can hardly believe any civilised human being would do such a thing. She’s lived with the knowledge of what she’s done for nearly a quarter of a century! And done nothing to rectify it for Lucy – or Lucy’s real mother. Quite the reverse. Surely she should pay the price? I, for one, believe we should go to the police about this. Right now.’

  ‘Hang on, Susan,’ said Mike. ‘It’s hit you hard, this news. You put a lot of effort into your relationship with Alison, it’s true, and this has come as a real bombshell – but none of us know how much Alison suffered, keeping it to herself all these years. And, most important, this is
Lucy’s story. It’s Lucy’s life, and it’s for Lucy to say what should happen next.’

  * * *

  It took another hour of begging, negotiating and tears for Susan to agree not to denounce Alison, on the understanding that it was for my sake only that she held back. We returned to the car feeling totally drained.

  ‘Would you rather put the visit to Riddlesfield off for another day?’ Guy asked.

  I sighed. ‘No, we’ve come all this way, and we’d only have to come back, go through it all again. Let’s get it over and done with.’

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  It took a couple of hours to drive to Riddlesfield. Neither of us had been there before. No, of course that’s not true. I had been there as a small child, but I had no conscious memories of it. Just as well: it’s not a beautiful city; more of a post-industrial wasteland. Acres of small, smoke-blackened terraced houses squashed together in the central area. At the edges of the town, modern estates of cramped, close-built houses – interspersed with busy dual carriageways, run-down shops, power stations and the dreary remains of industry. A pall of polluted smoke hung over the city, a vision not improved by dark lowering skies and steady drizzle.

  Guy had done as much research as possible into where the Watts family had previously lived. He had accessed the Riddlesfield phone directory online. It had provided several possible “Watts” entries to follow up. We knew that at the time of my abduction, my family had lived at 14 Tanners Lane, in the Frainham area of Riddlesfield. That was to be our first port of call.

  Using an A-to-Z map of the city, we drove along City Road and turned into Holbrook Street, which led into Frainham. A few more turns and we found Tanners Lane and parked the car. Some of the small, narrow houses had been improved, with neat paved yards in the front, brightly painted front doors, and plants growing in pots. Some had extensions built into the back yards, allowing for enlarged kitchens, with an extra bedroom or bathroom above.

  We made for the back lane onto which the back yard of number 14 and its neighbouring houses opened. Guy held tightly to my hand. I stared and stared at the back of the house I had apparently lived in for the first two years of my life. I screwed up my eyes and tried to think myself back into this place. Was this where I had played with my doll, Polly? Was this where my brother Ryan had run about? Was this where Alison had first seen me? My mind remained determinedly blank and empty.