Waiting for Grace

by Oakes, Hayley

  “Now I know you’re drunk.” I laughed.

  “In all seriousness Grace, what you did, making a life for yourself, going to university, working hard and bringing up Devon, you should be so proud.”

  “Thanks.” I sipped my wine. “I’m thinking of going to see my mum tomorrow, just to say hello.”

  “Oh really?” she turned to me with a wide smile. “I think you should, I do think she’s much better and roots are so important for us all.”

  ***

  The next day I had decided just to go. I would rip this plaster off and finally face my mother after all these years. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to gain; did I want a mum? Did I want a family? Or did I just want to make sure that I had made the right decision leaving her behind all those years ago? Even though the house wasn’t far, Robert was going to drive me as it was so cold and I wanted a quick getaway if required. Robert was going to come with me for moral support and Devon would stay with Barbara and Bob. I decided to go mid afternoon, that was always her early drinking time when she would be conscious enough to open the door, but if she was still drinking I would definitely know. We turned into my old street about 4 pm and I stiffened as we did. Robert placed his hand on my lap and gave it a squeeze.

  “You can do this,” he said.

  We pulled onto the small street, quiet as always with only a few grand houses scattered around. I notice that Mrs Jones’s house had had some work, an extension, the large porch was gone, and the garage built into the house as a two-story extension. So she must have died or sold the house to move to a flat or a smaller bungalow. She was a kind old lady and always cared for me without making it obvious, so I would accept her help. I felt a tinge of sadness that she may be gone. The car stopped and I took in the view of the house that I used to live in. Straight away I could see a difference. The previously wayward front garden seemed tamed and some old trees were either severely cut back or gone. Without the overhang of the branches it almost looked inviting, rather than a rambling haunted house. There was a new gleaming red front door and neat, red brick had replaced the broken tarmac of the driveway. The windows were now white PVC rather than white wood, and the outside had had a lick of white paint, maybe a while ago, but it had still been spruced up since I lived here.

  “She can’t live here anymore,” I said, trying to turn away as Robert followed me to the door. “This house must be owned by someone new, it looks amazing.” I turned into Robert and he looked into my eyes.

  “Let’s just knock.”

  “No,” I shook my head, “I can’t knock and then this be another wild goose chase like Diane.”

  “We’ve come this far,” he said.

  I turned back, he was right I had to knock, at least find out if they knew where she was. Then, as I did, the door was yanked open and there she was. My mother stood in the lit doorway, her mouth agape.

  “Grace,” she yelped, making her way towards me. I took a step back and bumped into Robert as she charged my way. She reached me and took my face in her hands, her breath didn’t smell of alcohol and her eyes weren’t glassy from drink, but from some other emotion that I couldn’t place.

  “Grace,” she said again, “Gosh, you look …. so grown up.”

  I pulled out of her grasp, “Hi mum,” I said awkwardly. “Erm … you remember Robert.” She looked to him and he held his hand out, she shook it and smiled. She didn’t recognise him as well as she should, but she was never really sober when he was around.

  “Merry Christmas,” she chattered excitedly, “Please, please, come in.” She put her arm around me and led me towards the house and I moved forward in a daze. There was something different about her and things had definitely changed, but I wasn’t sure that it would ever be enough.

  ***

  Ten minutes later we sat in her living room, Robert and I sat next to each other on the sofa whilst she made a cup of tea in the kitchen. The house was quiet and surprisingly warm and not how I had remembered it.

  “This is weird,” I whispered, leaning into him.

  “Why?” he whispered back.

  “Because, this house,” I motioned to the room, “her,” I pointed towards the kitchen, “it’s all different.”

  “It has been seven years,” he said.

  “I lived with her for seventeen years, Robert, and no change.” I rolled my eyes, “She’s decorated every room,” I looked around the living room, “and the outside, it’s like a different house.”

  “And she’s not drunk.” He raised an eyebrow and as he did she walked back in with a tray and three steaming china cups of tea on saucers. I had never seen her use china before.

  “So,” I said, gaining some strength and taking my tea from the tray, “this is different.”

  She smiled and held her cup and saucer on her knee, “The house?” she asked innocently.

  “No, you,” I said with a tight mouth, holding my anger at bay. “You seem …. Normal,” I said. Robert could sense my irritation and laid his hand on mine.

  “I am normal.” She looked at me with a tight smile and shook her head.

  “Let’s not pretend, Mum, let’s not pretend that when I lived here with you that this house wasn’t falling down around us and you weren’t a mess.”

  She shook her head slightly again and looked down, “Grace …” she began calmly.

  “Let’s not pretend,” I raised my voice, “that you weren’t always drunk and that you cared where I was and what I was doing and that I didn’t have to bring myself up.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she looked up to me. “Grace, I …” she began unsteadily.

  “I’m not sure what you can say that will make anything okay.” My voice fell and the hurt was apparent.

  “Grace, for what it’s worth, I am sorry and I would very much like a chance to explain. Maybe to … make up for everything.” She looked at me closely and watched me breathe out, my frustration was obvious and Robert held my hand tighter.

  “Fine, explain and don’t miss out how you could change after I left, but not whilst I was here.”

  “Well,” she swallowed hard. “Well, you see after you left, after you went, you are right I was a mess a complete mess and my life was worthless, I was worthless and a terrible mother. I didn’t even know what day it was and I didn’t realise that you hadn’t come home that summer. That is when Diane came back.”

  “What?” I almost choked on my tea. “What? She came back, where is she?”

  “Oh well,” she was flustered, my sudden interest worried her and she squirmed in her chair. “She doesn’t live around here but we are … in touch.”

  “Well, why did she come back? Where is she now? What happened?”

  “One question at a time Grace,” she sighed angrily, “she came back one November day and it was cold, very cold and I was in one of my usual states. It was very unfortunate, it was awful, in fact,” she swallowed hard, “of course she had no idea about your dad, Jamie, everything, and she was very angry, upset, distraught, all of it. She fell apart.”

  I looked to Robert and he gave me a small smile, we turned back to Mum. “She couldn’t believe that I had just let myself go, she couldn’t believe that I had let the house fall to wrack and ruin, and of course when I told her that I had no idea where you were she was fuming. So angry.” She shook her head, and wiped away quick tears.

  “It was a terrible day, but the start of a new life for me. I was so ashamed, so low, so broken, and we both just sat in the hallway and cried.”

  “So what happened then?” I asked, “How did Diane make everything better that I couldn’t?” I was bitter again and I felt sick that someone else could make my mum be the person I had begged her time and time again to be.

  “Well, it was slow at first, it was hard, but I felt like I owed her, by God did I owe her, and I let her down.”

  “What? What the hell happened all those years ago?” I frowned at her willing her to tell me. I had yearned for my big sister for so long and n
ow she had sailed in and saved the day, but again was just a mythical creature to me, and nowhere to be seen.

  “She made me go to a centre for rehabilitation.” She swallowed hard again. “It was hard there, it was embarrassing being with all those addicts.”

  “But you’re an addict,” I spat.

  “Not like them,” she shook her head, “some of them, they were the dregs of society, but I tell you what they welcomed me with open arms. I hated it at first, women with tattoos, men with beer bellies, and people who injected heroin.” Her eyes grew wide. “But I tell you what, they were the salt of the earth. We did group therapy together, ate together, exercised together, and we were healed together. I became a Christian.” She looked up to me. “It might sound ridiculous, but those people, and Jesus saved me.”

  “Oh, give me strength.” I rolled my eyes.

  Robert nudged me. “I think that’s admirable,” he said to her, “that you overcame so much, and that you now have something to believe in.”

  “Replacing one obsession for another,” I screeched, looking at him.

  “Whatever works.” He shrugged and I shook my head then turned my attention back to mum.

  “So Diane, where is she, what happened after you were saved?” I said in a sarcastic tone.

  “Well, she helped me sort out my finances and the garage and I found a nice church. I have some friends now, but Diane and I, we don’t really agree, we’re not close, but she calls once a week or so. She can’t really forgive me, she is still so mad about you.”

  “About me? Why? Why did she leave all those years ago? Tell me.”

  “You see after Dad died I was so lost, he was the boss, he did the bills, and what he said went. I had no one to make my decisions and no one to look after so I just gave in. I’m so sorry.” Her tears fell again.

  “You had me to look after,” I barked, tears welling in my eyes.

  “That’s why she can’t forgive me,” she looked to her hands, “because I never cared for you and I was supposed to. I was supposed to give you everything. The best start in life that anyone would ever have and I was so desperate for a baby, you were so dearly wanted.”

  “Get to the point, Mum,”

  “You see she hates me because I’m not your mum, I’m so sorry Grace, but I’m not your birth mother. Diane left because you were her baby, you were her little miracle, and we promised her we would give you everything. We were supposed to give you the life that she couldn’t. She left because she couldn’t watch us bring you up. Jeff convinced her that it was the right thing to do because I wanted a second child so much, but …” she looked to me and my eyes were wide with shock. “He died, Jamie died, and I fell apart, and I didn’t do what I promised. She hates me because I lost you, and she hates me because I failed you.”

  I couldn’t breathe. My eyes were wide and the breath completely left my lungs. I looked to Robert and he was just as stunned, tears ran down my face, but I was unable to wipe them or move.

  “What?” I gasped, pain etched in my voice. “What?” I screamed, standing, Robert jumping up after me.

  “I’m sorry Grace, I should have told you, you should have always known. Diane is your mother and she came back on your eighteenth birthday to meet you.”

  “I hate you!” I spat, running from the room with Robert close behind. I bolted to the door and vomit threatened to rise from my stomach. I began to sob as I ripped the front door open and ran to the car. I saw the lights flash as I approached the car, Robert had opened it from behind me and I jumped inside. I saw her follow him outside and they stood shouting. She grabbed his arm as he turned and handed him something that he slid in his pocket. Then he ran to me. The first person in my life I could remember ever showing me love ran to be by my side as I sat in his car and fell apart.

  Twenty-Five

  Diane

  Twenty-Five Years Earlier

  My mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. I adored her, but at sixteen I barely remembered her. All I had were battered photographs and memories that I felt more than I saw. I remembered the warm feeling in my tummy when she cuddled me closely in my little bed, I remembered that she always smelled so beautiful, and that she made sure I was the most loved little girl in the world. She gave me a great start in life, and she taught me how to love. It was a great foundation for the rest of my life. She was there for four short years, but they were the greatest start I could have wished for. She left too soon, died six weeks after being diagnosed with cervical cancer, but I never forgot her, never let myself lose the love that I felt for her in the pit of my stomach.

  Irene arrived when I was five. My Dad was a different man after we lost my Mum. He didn’t laugh as much and he spent a lot of time at work, perhaps trying to forget the loss and fight his pain. Irene came along and she filled a void for him and picked up the pieces his wife had left gapingly behind. My Dad had been a carefree thirty-year old and suddenly he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Irene allowed him to shift the weight of his home life and his daughter to her. He became distant, moody, and ruled our home with an iron rod. The lightness that my mother had encouraged died with her, and Irene accepted the strong, control freak she adored. He, in turn, saved her from being a lonely spinster.

  I had a great life. I was my mother’s daughter, all right. I was the only one who could muster a smile from my Dad, and despite Irene’s coldness she managed to do one thing right and gave me my gorgeous baby brother, Jamie. I was a rebellious teenager in the early eighties. I had dreams of being a star, I wore too much make-up that I applied for hours in my bedroom mirror, I wanted to be Madonna and Irene was horrified. Her life growing up on a farm with older parents didn’t allow for many liberal thoughts. I loved my life; my friends and I knew that I had the looks to be a movie star.

  I wanted for nothing, my Dad was a big deal and owned his own garage where he ran a tight ship. He made sure that I had what I needed and indulged my wants as long as I asked nicely. Irene would roll her eyes and shake her head when my Dad indulged my latest whim, but I was his only daughter and had the face of my dead mother, which he could never forget. The only rule that both my parents agreed on was that I wasn’t allowed to go out with boys. I was happy to obey as no one I knew at school was good enough for me and I had my sights set on drama school. Why would I go out with spotty boys when I had movie stars in my future?

  It was a cold, wet, September day when I first met Carl McGregor. I was running through town to get home for my dinner, and he was leaning up against a shop doorway having a cigarette. The last few days of summer were lingering, the rain fell but it was not cold and it seemed to be the start of a thunderstorm. I had never seen him before and didn’t notice him much that day except that as I ran in my candy-striped summer dress and wedges, I slipped. I could feel myself fall, but he jumped from his relaxed stance and strong arms stopped me from falling.

  “Steady,” he said, smiling down at me. He was easily over six feet tall and even in my wedges I was nowhere near his height. He had dark hair that was cut short, green eyes that bored into me, and a smile that would make a nun blush.

  “Thanks,” I said, the rain falling harder around us.

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “Carl,” he introduced himself as he shoved his hand out towards me.

  “Diane,” I smiled, “you new in town?”

  “Is it the accent that gives it away?” he laughed, the rain falling onto his thick dark lashes as he blinked it away, “I’m from Paisley, Scotland.” He said, “Training to be a butcher, in this shop here.” He pointed back to the stoop where he had just been smoking. “Live above the shop.”

  “Oh,” I said, blinking rain away myself. “Well nice to meet you, Carl.” I smiled.

  “How about I give you a lift home?” he asked, “Don’t want you slipping in the rain again.” He grinned.

  “Oh, I can’t accept a ride from a stranger.” I smiled politely. “See you around,” I said hastily, running off
again into the rain and struggling to get the mysterious stranger out of my head.

  For the next few weeks I made sure to pass the butcher’s shop looking adorable with full make-up and high heels. I started college that September to study drama and dance. My Dad wanted me to do something more studious, but he accepted my choices. My friends were all crushing on the most attractive guys at school, but I had something much more interesting in my sights, a real man with a job and who looked like a man, not a boy. Of course, him being from out of town and his accent helped the attraction. He was an unknown quantity. I caught glimpses of him in the shop, catching his eye a few times, but I never went in and I wouldn’t.

  One Saturday in October I made my way to my Dad’s garage to convince him that I needed some shiny black leggings for a party with my friend Michelle that night. He was busy, but seemed pleased to see me. My long, dark hair hung down my back, with an oversized pink bow over the top of my head. The men that worked for Dad always made a fuss of me and I lapped up the attention. Dad gave me the money and the bus fare into Blackpool to go shopping, shooing me away from the glances of his mechanics.

  As I left the garage I saw Carl leaning on a nearby wall, I hid a smile and walked past him. “Hi,” he said, a smile on his face.

  “Hello,” I said casually continuing to walk and he jumped in step beside me. “Have you been waiting for me?”

  “Yes.” He grinned.

  “And how did you know where to wait?”

  “I did some research.”

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “I asked who the prettiest girl in town was, the one that kept walking past the shop and they said you.”

  “And?”

  “And how about I take you out?”

  “Sorry,” I said, looking up to him through my lashes into his tall frame. “I’m not allowed to go out with boys, I’m too young and they only mean trouble.”

  “Oh yeah?” he asked, in a teasing tone. “Then how about I just hang out with you today, and we don’t go out, is that allowed?”