by Emily Gunnis
‘Because she asked me about it, when she came to see me. I had to tell them, and I wish I hadn’t. But he kept pressing me, just like Jessie did when I saw her last week. He knew I was holding something back. Why won’t the past ever leave me in peace? I can’t stand it.’
‘Oh Mum, I wish I was there to give you a hug.’ Iris felt a desperate need to protect her mother, to drive to her house and be there for her, but the need to grill her about what she actually told Jessie was overwhelming.
‘So I know you don’t want to talk about it, but did you tell Jessie anything about that night that might have surprised or upset her?’
‘No!’ snapped Rebecca. ‘Just because I hate talking about it, doesn’t mean I’m hiding anything. It’s all there for anyone who wants to see. I’ve told the police the inquest report is in the coroner’s office, along with the cuttings painting every gruesome detail. Why are they fixating on something that happened over fifty years ago rather than finding Jessie? They aren’t telling me anything, Iris! Where is she? Where has she gone? I always knew something bad was going to happen to her, and I was right. I knew it from the day she was born.’ Rebecca was crying quietly and Iris could picture her tucked away somewhere in her house where she couldn’t be heard by the family liaison officer.
‘Mum, listen to me. You’ve done nothing wrong. Harvey and Liz made it impossible for you. You’re the best mum in the world, and we’re going to find Jessie. Okay? Can you get one of your friends round to sit with you? I hate to think of you at home on your own.’
‘There’s something else.’ Rebecca paused. ‘The baby has an infection, Iris. They think it’s Strep B. She was on intravenous antibiotics.’
‘How do you know?’ said Iris.
‘The police liaison officer just told me. It’s not good, Iris. That baby won’t survive long on her own if she’s got Strep B. Until morning, I’d say. I’ll never forgive myself if she dies.’
‘Mum, this is not your fault. How many more times do I have to tell you? I’ll do what I can, okay, see if I can find out anything from the pack. Promise me you’ll call a friend to come round?’ Iris ended the call and let out a heavy sigh.
She had always respected her mother’s wishes not to talk about the night her parents were killed, but now she had a legitimate reason – a duty, even – to try and find out what she could. Jessie had obviously grilled her mother about it and Iris needed to know why.
Iris googled ‘Coroner’s Office, Chichester’, dialled the number and promptly explained her situation to a very helpful woman.
‘If you’re a relative, you can see the file here at the records office. We’d need a copy of your ID and a request in writing, then we’ll get back to you within five working days.’
‘Is there any chance it could be sooner? I hate to ask but it relates to an urgent family matter,’ Iris added, already bubbling over with curiosity about seeing a file which she had never dared seek out before.
‘I can try. The coroner is in today, but she’s very busy. I can’t make any promises. Strange, this is the second request we’ve had in a week for this file.’
Iris felt her heart lurch. ‘Really? Do you know the name of the person who asked for it?’
‘I can’t share that information, I’m afraid, but it was a relative, so the coroner approved the request. Hopefully, that will work in your favour, as it’s not been sent back to the main archive so we’d still have it at the County Records Office.’
‘Okay. Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it,’ said Iris, and hung up. She tried to process the information. If it was a relative, it had to be Jessie, but why? And had she read something in the inquest file that had prompted her to go and see their mother about it?
Iris’s phone beeped again. Miles, chasing. She quickly typed a reply.
Contact has been in touch, hopefully meeting him shortly. Will let you know update asap.
Iris looked up to see a taxi, its light on, making its way up the road towards her, and with both fear and excitement coursing through her at the thought of what lay in wait for her at the County Records Office, she ran towards it.
Chapter Fourteen
When I wake, Rosie has gone. It feels like night-time and the pain in my chest is even more acute. I am sore and exhausted from coughing for hours. I look out of the window and see a small crowd of people huddled together outside the hospital.
I look around. I am scared to move because I know, if I do, I will start coughing again. I want to sit up, but I can’t reach the red call button and I start to become breathless again. I feel panic and try to calm myself, but the coughing starts anyway. I try and turn on my side, and manage to press the call button. A nurse I don’t recognize comes over to my bed and, as she sits me up, I vomit green phlegm over myself.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say when I’m able to take some shallow breaths.
‘Don’t apologize, you’re okay,’ she says, handing me a cup of water. I take a sip. I have nothing inside me and I can picture the water swishing around my empty stomach. This nurse is dark-haired and when she smiles it is as if she’s on autopilot. She is brisker than the other nurse, banging at my pillows and pulling at my blankets sharply so that it makes me jump.
‘Who are those people out there? With the cameras?’
‘Journalists. A woman and her baby have gone missing from the hospital. It was on the news. I’ll just go and get you a clean gown, then I’ll do you a bed bath.’
Her words shock me. I think again of the man on the lunchtime news, Harvey Roberts. My mind races. Perhaps he was here. Perhaps he is still here now.
The nurse comes back and cleans me up. After I have coughed most of the way through it, I realize that I am struggling to breathe all the time now. It feels like I am trying to live on another planet; I am a long way from home but I have no idea where home is. I’m more tired than I’ve ever felt in my life. I’m barely able to keep my eyes open. I start to doze off but a tall, slender man in a checked shirt with a stethoscope around his neck appears at the end of the bed.
‘Good evening. I’m Dr Evans, the medical consultant. How are you feeling?’
‘Tired,’ I say tentatively, scared to speak in case it sets off another fit of coughing.
The dark-haired nurse speaks. ‘She had an unsettled evening because she is coughing so much. Her saturations were a bit low so we gave her some oxygen, but I think she might need a nasal cannula because she kept pulling the mask off in her sleep.’
‘Sounds like a good idea,’ says Dr Evans, studying my chart. ‘How’s your chest?’
‘Painful,’ I say.
‘Your temperature is 39.3, so it seems that your chest infection may be getting worse. Let’s get another X-ray done. Ideally we need forty-eight hours to see if the antibiotics are working but if things don’t improve overnight I’ll substitute one. We’ll keep a close eye on you and monitor your oxygen levels. I’d recommend eating something, if you can, then try and catch up on some sleep.’
I try to sleep but every time I doze off I am back on the beach with the wave looming over our heads. But it never breaks, and I am standing, holding my baby, staring up at the skyscraper made of water, knowing there is nothing I can do. I cannot run. I cannot hide from it. There is no escape. It is going to break over us and all I can do is wait for it to happen.
The sky outside grows orange, the crowd of journalists dwindles, and the endless coming-and-going in my room begins to slow. I hear the day drawing to a close: visitors stop walking past my room, the chatter at the nurses’ station quietens, the starlings begin their evening flight outside my window. Every time someone appears at my door I pray that it is Rosie. I don’t know if I will see her again; perhaps she has to work late or cannot come again today. I am too scared to ask the other nurse when she is coming back, because I will be embarrassed how I will react if she is not.
A plate of food is put in front of me, but I tell the nurse I don’t want it and turn to watch the starlings tw
ist and turn in one swirling, liquid mass. It soothes my agitated mind and my eyes begin to feel heavy. As I fall asleep I hear a baby cry and it jerks me awake. I begin to cough again and cannot stop. I cannot catch my breath and, for the first time, I feel truly frightened. I try and reach for the alarm, but I can’t. I am dizzy now and am struggling for breath.
I am starting to lose my vision as the door opens again. I hear footsteps rushing towards me and someone eases me forward and puts the oxygen mask over my face. They rub my back as the oxygen rushes into my system and gradually I can breathe again.
‘You’re okay.’ I know that voice but I’m too scared to open my eyes in case it’s not her. I’m putting too much pressure on Rosie. I don’t know what I expect from her. What can she really change? She eases me back and when I see that beautiful face that has always showed me such kindness, I know that I and my baby may still have a chance.
‘I hear you haven’t been eating. You won’t get better if you don’t eat.’ Rosie smiles that lovely smile, her blue eyes gleaming, reminding me of aquamarine. I am sure, more than ever, that she is my angel. The relief that she is here makes me feel like a lost child who has been found.
I smile and take her hand. She sits down next to me. ‘I’m going to ask if I can sit with you tonight,’ she says. ‘I don’t think you should be on your own. It’s either that, or you go on a ventilator in the intensive care unit, and they don’t want to send you down there until it’s really necessary.’
Panic streaks through me as she says this. I squeeze her hand hard. I try and speak through the mask, which makes me cough again. She gently takes it off.
‘I don’t want that. I don’t want to go on a ventilator. Promise me you won’t let them,’ I say.
‘That’s a conversation I’d really like to have with your daughter. Which is why I want to spend some proper time with you, to see if I can help you find her.’
Tears fill my eyes, but I can’t reply so I just nod. She feeds me and I manage a few mouthfuls and feel a little better.
‘Did you see the journalists outside?’ I ask.
‘Yes, it was a right pain getting through the entrance. Apparently, the girl who has gone missing with her newborn baby was at this hospital.’ Rosie puts her coat on the back of her chair and throws today’s Chichester Evening Herald newspaper on my bedside table.
‘Jessica Roberts,’ I say, scared to utter the words, pushing myself to tell her.
‘Yes,’ says Rosie, frowning. ‘How do you know her name?’
‘I saw the news. I recognized her father, Harvey Roberts.’ Slowly, I point to his picture on the front of the paper.
‘What?’ says Rosie, leaning in. ‘Are you sure?’
I nod. ‘It was a long time ago, but I know his name and his face is much the same. My father used to rent Seaview from Ted Roberts. We spent our summers there.’
‘Seaview?’ Rosie says, ‘What’s that?’ She picks up the paper, staring at the image of Jessica Roberts intently.
I look at her. ‘It’s the link, between me and my baby.’
And then I tell her.
Chapter Fifteen
Rebecca
Friday, 14 November 2014
Rebecca stood in her living room watching her eldest daughter break down in front of her and felt utterly helpless.
‘Jessie, I know we didn’t have the best start. It haunts me every day, and I want to try and be honest with you about what happened. But it isn’t straightforward, it’s extremely complicated. You just need to try and be patient with me. Please?’
‘I shouldn’t have come here,’ said Jessie as Rebecca handed her a tissue.
‘Yes, you should, and I’m so happy that you have,’ said Rebecca, sitting down next to her and taking her hand. ‘But there’s so much ground to make up. I’ve wanted to explain to you for so long, but I’ve never really been able to get to you.’
‘What do you mean, you haven’t been able to get to me?’ Jessie snapped defensively, pulling her hand away.
Rebecca looked at her nervously. ‘I suppose what I mean is I feel I’ve tried very hard over the years to build a relationship with you, but I think Liz felt –’ Rebecca stopped herself, knowing that any criticism of Jessie’s stepmother would drive her daughter away, ‘quite rightly, very protective of you.’
‘Well, someone needed to,’ Jessie said quietly.
Rebecca shifted in her seat. Her shoulders were so tense they were starting to ache. ‘Of course. I’m happy that you had her to do such a good job of looking after you.’
‘You don’t mean that. You never liked her. You couldn’t have been more obvious about it.’ Rebecca looked at Jessie, her face the same as it had been as a teenager on the weekends she had gone up to Wittering to visit her daughter, or on the rare occasions Jessie had come to stay with John, Iris and her, when she had spent most of their hours together seemingly sulking, in her room.
‘Look, Jessie, if it helps you to sling mud at me, that’s fine, but I don’t think it helps us to try and get to the truth.’
‘The truth?’ Jessie scoffed. ‘You’re allergic to the truth. You just want to bury your head in the sand and pretend me and Dad don’t exist.’
‘That’s not true. I love you, Jessie. Iris and I talk about you all the time, how sad we are that you’re not a proper part of our lives, but I don’t know how to reach you.’
Rebecca stumbled over her words, looking at Jessie, afraid she would walk out at any moment.
‘Well, you could try,’ Jessie said quietly.
‘I have tried, Jessie. I promise you.’
‘How? With a few phone calls and birthday cards?’ Jessie quipped.
Rebecca let out a sigh of exasperation. ‘Jessie, I fought to keep you every day. I cried myself to sleep every night over you, for years. What did you want me to do?’
‘I don’t know. Sleep in your car outside the house. Write to me every day telling me how much you love me. Find a way to show me you gave a shit.’ Jessie threw her arms up in exasperation.
‘Look, I don’t think this is helping,’ said Rebecca flatly.
‘It’s helping me. We’ve spent our whole lives pretending with one another. It’s nice to be honest for once.’ Jessie glared at her mother.
‘It was just very hard trying to have any time just the two of us, or a proper conversation even, when Liz was always there.’
‘Well, she’s not here now,’ Jessie said, biting her cheek.
‘I know, and I can’t imagine how hard it has been for you. She has been like a mother to you since you were a baby. I tried very hard to have a relationship with her, I promise you I did. But she was a very strong character, and your dad employed her as a nanny without even asking me. It was a tough situation,’ Rebecca said gently.
‘What?’ said Jessie. ‘Dad employed her? Not you?’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘He saw an advert in the post office window. Liz was looking for work. I know he didn’t mean any harm, but I was getting better. I was still exhausted and on strong antidepressants, but I was doing it. We were starting to bond, I was feeling stronger, we were in a routine.’
Rebecca leaned in to Jessie, encouraged that her daughter seemed to be listening to her side of the story – for once.
‘I got you up at six, fed you, then we drove to the hospital together – you were at the crèche all day from about four months old. But it was a very long day, and your dad was worried about us both. I remember I’d had a bad week. One of the doctors at work made a complaint about me as I had to leave on time every day to collect you so I wasn’t able to do any overtime. I was starting to feel very anxious again. Your dad interviewed Liz while I was at work one day. I came home and he said that he had a plan. Liz would live in and take care of you so my work didn’t suffer in the week. And then we would spend weekends together as a family.’
Jessie tried to process what her mother was saying. ‘So you were never there. And then Liz and Dad fell in love?’
/> Rebecca shook her head. ‘Me and your father should never have been together. It was one night, an explosion of emotion, of everything we’d been through.’
‘I should never have happened, you mean!’
‘No, that is not what I said. Our relationship is very hard to explain. We grew up together – we were joined at the hip. I ran to your dad on the nights my father beat my mother, and his father took me in when my parents were killed. We’ve always had an incredibly strong bond, but we were more like brother and sister. He wanted someone like Liz. He needed a woman like Liz. Someone who wanted to be at Seaview, at home, a homebody. To help him run the farm. Seaview was a place so wracked with terrible memories that even being there made it almost impossible for me to function. But having Liz did make things trickier between us, between you and me, because of course you spent so much time with her. And, before long,’ Rebecca paused at the painful memory, ‘you didn’t want me any more.’
Rebecca looked over at her daughter. Jessie was lost in thought, trying to take it all in.
‘Look, what I’m trying to say – badly – is that if you want to know what happened when you were born, I need to be honest, and I can’t really do that without, maybe, contradicting what you’ve been told. Which could be upsetting for you.’
‘I haven’t been told anything. That’s the problem. I can’t believe what you’ve just told me about Liz. I thought it was all your idea to get a nanny, so you were free.’ Jessie shook her head.
‘No, and you seem to think I left you behind,’ Rebecca said gently.
‘Well, you did, that’s true! Whatever way you spin it, you put your job before me.’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘That’s not true, Jessie. But telling you the truth involves hearing things about your dad and Liz that might not be easy for you to hear. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but it was a very difficult time and, in the end, I had very little choice.’