‘She rang me to say she had some important information about me – something I really should know.’
‘And did she?’
‘Yes.’ I bit my lip to stop myself from getting emotional again. ‘She told me that Dad wasn’t my real father. Worse – she’d cheated on him several times and she didn’t really know who my father was.’
Di looked shocked. ‘Oh, Lou. But is it true, do you think? Was she just being spiteful?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve been thinking – the one person who might know is Susan. I’ll have to go and see her.’
Di squeezed my hand. ‘I’m so sorry, love.’
‘Me too.’ I looked at her. ‘Can you imagine, Di, how it feels, not knowing who you really are?’
‘But you’re you – Louise Davies. You’re your own person.’
I sighed. ‘I even dropped Dad’s name. It’s ironic, isn’t it? I know I haven’t been a nice person. I treated poor Mark horrendously when we were at drama school. No wonder his sister hates me. I’ve taken advantage of people – you included. I thought the world and everyone in it owed me when really I was just a pain in the backside. I’m a mess, Di. Maybe I take after my father – whoever he might be. Now there’s no way I’ll ever know.’
Di patted my shoulder. ‘My advice is to get on a train first thing tomorrow; go and see Susan and have a good talk. She probably knows more than you realize.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘Mum! You can’t be serious. It’s no time at all since Louise came to stay with you. What’s her excuse this time?’
‘She says she needs to talk,’ Susan said. ‘She’s somehow managed to locate her birth mother and she seemed so upset on the phone. I couldn’t say no to her.’
‘But you can say no to me!’ Karen protested. ‘You know it’ll all be some trivial nonsense she’s dreamed up.’
‘I don’t think so. She …’
‘So you’re saying no to having Peter for me?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ Susan said firmly. ‘Not this time. Anyway, Simon’s at home now for the holidays. Can’t he …’ She paused. ‘I take it you have told him – about the tutoring?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Well, don’t you think you should?’
‘I told him I had to be out for the morning and he’s gone off somewhere in a huff so I can’t; at least not at the moment.’
‘Well, you know my feelings on that matter. You should start talking to Simon,’ Susan said. ‘Just be honest. No marriage can survive all this subterfuge. And I don’t want to be a party to it either, Karen.’
Karen slammed the telephone down so hard that Susan was almost deafened. She hung up with a sigh. If Karen wasn’t careful she’d ruin everything between herself and Simon. She was just making a shopping list ready for Louise’s visit when there was a ring at her bell. She opened the door to find Simon standing outside.
‘Can I come in, Susan?’
‘Of course. Is something wrong? Can I get you a drink – coffee?’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Have you got anything stronger?’
‘I think there might be some whisky left over from Christmas,’ she said. ‘Will that do?’
‘Yes, fine, thanks.’
Susan fetched the whisky and a glass and watched as he threw the drink back in one gulp. ‘I think you’d better tell me what’s wrong,’ she said as he put the glass down.
‘It’s Karen,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what she’s up to, forever going off somewhere. I’m beginning to think she’s – that there’s someone else. I know she’s lying to me and I’m really not happy about the way things are between us at the moment.’
Susan sighed. Things were getting to a ridiculously complicated stage between those two. Maybe it was time she put Simon straight. At the risk of being classed as an interfering mother-in-law, she took a deep breath and said, ‘It’s nothing like that, Simon. She’s doing a bit of private tutoring, that’s all. She didn’t want to tell you because she thought you’d be angry.’
He sighed. ‘Oh, for God’s sake! Not that again.’
‘She’s a bright girl, Simon, and she hates wasting her education and ability. Surely a little part-time tutoring can’t hurt? And I’m happy to have Peter when I can.’
He sprang to his feet. ‘What does she take me for – some kind of ogre? I asked her outright this morning when she was making some excuse about being out again tomorrow morning but she always hedges.’ He glared at her. ‘And you knew about it all along!’
‘You must admit you’ve been rather inflexible in the past.’
‘Surely a man has the right to say what he wants in his own house!’
Susan smiled. ‘Simon, can you hear yourself? You sound like some Victorian patriarch. Times have changed. Young women are no longer satisfied with a life of undiluted domesticity. Why can’t you cut her some slack?’
‘It was only going to be till Peter goes to school.’ He sat down again, slightly calmer. ‘She only had to ask.’
‘Ask?’
He frowned. ‘You know what I mean. We could have discussed it.’
‘I remember the last time you discussed it,’ she said. ‘Right here in my living room. Look, why don’t you go home now and try to be more reasonable with her? Offer to stay with Peter tomorrow while she does her tutoring. What she’s doing is important to that family. It’s very worthwhile.’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’ He looked at her. ‘Has she asked you to have Peter tomorrow?’
‘Yes, but I had to refuse because Louise is coming to stay for a couple of days.’
He stared at her. ‘Louise! Again? You have to be joking! After the trouble she always causes. You must be mad, Susan!’
She stood up. ‘Never mind whether I’m mad or not, Simon. Just take care of your own problems and let me take care of mine. Go home and get it over with. Make things right between you.’
Louise arrived just after eleven. When Susan opened the door to her, she was shocked by her appearance. She looked pale and drawn.
‘Come in, dear,’ she said. ‘You’re looking tired. I’ll put the kettle on.’
Louise came in. She had a small bag with her, Susan noticed. Only an overnight case, so she obviously didn’t intend to stay long. Susan bustled about the kitchen, putting cups on a tray and getting out the biscuit tin.
‘Did you have a good journey?’ she called out. ‘You must have made an early start. Have you had any breakfast?’ Louise didn’t reply so she gave up in the end and when she carried the tray through to the living room, she found her sitting on the sofa looking miserable. She sat down beside her. ‘What’s wrong, dear? You said on the telephone that you wanted to talk to me. Has something happened?’
‘Yes.’ Louise took the cup that Susan handed her and took a long drink. ‘Thanks. I needed that. Yes, Susan, something has happened and I might as well come straight to the point. You know I told you I’d found my mother?’
‘I do. And you were worried that she might not leave you alone.’
‘After the newspaper article about the collapse of the play, there wasn’t much fear of that. She got the message at last that there was no money.’ Louise looked at her stepmother. ‘I’m sure you saw the article too.’ Susan nodded. ‘So now you realize what a damned liar I am – if you didn’t already know.’
Susan looked up in alarm. ‘Louise!’
‘Oh, I’m well aware of what a pain I’ve been to you all,’ Louise said. ‘There’s no need to pretend. The thing is, she, my – the woman who gave birth to me – asked to see me one more time. She said she had something to tell me about myself and it was vitally important.’
‘So you met her again?’ Susan said cautiously.
‘Yes. And what she gleefully told me was that Frank Davies wasn’t my father. That was what they rowed about on the night she walked out. She didn’t take me with her because she didn’t want me and Frank wasn’t my real father.’ She looked at Susan, her e
yes full of pain. ‘Can you imagine how that made me feel?’
Susan laid a hand on her arm. ‘Oh my dear, of course I can. How horrible for you.’
‘So – the reason I’m here, Susan, is to ask you if you knew about it.’
Susan leaned back in her seat with a sigh. ‘Yes, I have to confess that I did know. Frank told me when we were first married. Not that he ever really believed it. He always insisted that you were his daughter and nothing would dissuade him from that belief.’
‘I’ll never ever think of him as anything else,’ Louise said.
‘He loved you very dearly,’ Susan said. ‘But being abandoned by your mother like that at such an early age had a very profound impact on you. It damaged something deep inside you and although maybe I shouldn’t say it, it made you a very difficult child to handle.’
‘I know. I remember how awful I was to you.’
‘In your early teens things got worse. You rebelled – stayed out late – mixed with a crowd of young people that were – well, a disastrous influence on you.’
Louise frowned. ‘I don’t remember much about that.’
‘No, you wouldn’t. You ended up getting into real trouble and having a kind of breakdown. You spent quite a long time in hospital.’
Louise looked at her. ‘Is that a nice way of saying I got mixed up with drugs and had to go into rehab?’
Susan sighed. ‘I’m afraid it is. But you got better, that’s the main thing. It took some time but you got better and you came home with very little memory of what had happened. I think that may have had something to do with the treatment. The psychiatrist warned us about that.’
Louise’s eyes widened. ‘Psychiatrist! I was that sick?’
‘I’m afraid so. When you came home you had this deep desire – almost an obsession – to go to drama school and become an actress. I was doubtful at the time. I wondered how you would cope, being away from home, but Frank was only too pleased that you had something you really wanted to do – a goal in life. He was happy to make the necessary sacrifices to pay for you to go.’
‘I never knew that.’ Louise’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You both stuck by me – and look how I repaid you.’
Susan patted her hand. ‘Never mind that now. It’s all water under the bridge. Frank always loved you unconditionally. As for whether he was your true father or not, we’ll probably never know for sure, but one thing I can tell you and that is that he was a father to you in every possible way he could be: a father to be proud of.’
‘I know, and I am proud of him. And of you too, Susan.’
‘Louise …’ Susan paused and took a breath. ‘There’s something else you should know,’ she said. ‘And I hope this is the right time for me to tell you. But you must prepare yourself for a shock.’
‘Why couldn’t you be straight with me, for God’s sake?’
Simon and Karen were standing in the kitchen. Karen was wiping down the worktops, her back to him. Now she spun round to face him. ‘Because you’re always so bloody unreasonable if you must know.’
‘Don’t swear at me.’ He looked round. ‘Where’s Peter?’
‘He’s fine. He’s playing in the front garden.’
‘So – about this tutoring. How did you think you could manage to do it in the holidays without me knowing?’
‘I was going to tell you.’
‘Oh yes – when?’
Karen threw the dishcloth she’d been using into the sink with a splash. ‘When I could work up the courage. I knew you’d say I’d have to give it up. You’re so controlling – always making me out to be a bad mother and wife. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?’
He sighed. ‘All I ask is that you stay at home with our son till he’s old enough for school,’ he said exasperatedly. ‘He’s three now so that’s only another couple of years. Can’t you even wait that long to shake off the shackles of motherhood?’
Karen snorted. ‘Oh, will you listen to yourself? The shackles of motherhood! You sound like a character out of a Victorian novel. I ask you – how can it hurt for me to be away from him for a couple of hours a week?’
Simon seethed. For the second time that morning he’d been accused of being ‘Victorian’. He’d always considered himself to be a forward-thinking man. In favour of female equality at home and in the workplace. But surely when a woman had a child …
‘The poor kid’s a bundle of nerves,’ he lashed out. ‘When you’re not here he’s constantly asking for you. You’re damaging him – making him into an anxious, neurotic little wreck!’
Karen laughed. ‘I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous. Peter’s a very well-adjusted child. Every …’ Suddenly, through the open front door came the sound of squealing brakes, a bang and a loud shout. They stared at each other for a stunned second, then made a dash for the door.
‘Peter!’
The front gate was open and a car stood at the kerb; the driver was kneeling over a tiny prone body in the road in front of his car. He looked up, white-faced, as Karen and Simon came running out.
‘Christ! I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘He ran out. I couldn’t stop in time – didn’t have a chance!’
Karen screamed, a hand over her mouth. Simon rushed to kneel by the lifeless child. He felt for a pulse and turned to Karen. ‘He’s alive. Quick, ring for an ambulance!’
‘You were fourteen when you went off the rails and started getting into trouble,’ Susan said. ‘Your dad and I were already worried but the final blow fell when we discovered you were pregnant. We never found out who was responsible. It was soon after that you had your breakdown.’
Louise was staring at her stepmother, open-mouthed. ‘I had a – baby? But what happened? Why don’t I remember any of it?’
‘You were very ill. The doctors thought you might lose the child or that it might be affected by the drugs. They kept you in hospital throughout the pregnancy.’
‘And the – baby?’
‘Thankfully the baby was fine – taken straight from you at birth for adoption.’
‘Without my consent?’
‘You were in no fit state to know what you wanted – you never asked once about the baby and afterwards you seemed to have blanked it completely from your mind.’ Susan laid a hand on her arm. ‘Louise – we – your dad and I adopted her.’
‘You did? ‘ Louise took in the implication of what she had just heard. She stared at Susan. ‘You don’t – you can’t mean…?’
‘Yes. Karen is yours. She was four months old when you came out of hospital and we thought at first that seeing her would trigger your memory, but it didn’t. You never took any interest in her at all. So we decided to let sleeping dogs lie and bring Karen up as our own. You went back to school – a new school, then later to drama school.’
Louise was deeply shocked. It seemed bizarre. It was all so hard to take in. Then she remembered the dreams – about her mother leaving, then later, about rejecting a baby. Somewhere, deep in her subconscious she’d buried it all. She looked at Susan.
‘I’m so glad you told me,’ she said. ‘I take it that Karrie doesn’t know?’
Susan shook her head. ‘She still thinks of Frank and me as her parents, although we did tell her a long time ago that she was adopted.’ She looked appealingly at Louise. ‘I really think that after all this time it’s probably better to leave it at that.’
Louise was silent for a moment then she slowly nodded. ‘I’m sure you’re right.’
Susan took her hand and squeezed it. ‘It’s not too late to have a child of your own,’ she said, but Louise shook her head.
‘I’ve never been the maternal type. Karen was lucky to have you and Dad. Better not to stir things up now.’ She looked at Susan. ‘I owe you so much, Susan; far more than I ever dreamed. I’ll never be able to make it all up to you.’
Susan smiled. ‘No need, my dear. I’m so sorry about your disappointment over the play. I only wish things could work out for you.’
/> The telephone began to ring and Susan got up to answer it. Louise watched as her stepmother’s face suddenly drained of colour.
‘Oh my God!’ she cried. ‘Yes. We’ll get there as soon as we can. Thank you for ringing me, Simon. Goodbye.’
In the family room at the hospital, Susan and Louise found a shocked-looking Karen and Simon sitting silently together. Simon was holding Karen’s hand. Susan sat down beside Karen.
‘Any news?’
‘Not yet.’ It was Simon who spoke. Karen wept silently into Susan’s shoulder.
‘It was my fault,’ she sobbed. ‘If only we hadn’t been rowing …’
Simon squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t. It was my fault as much as anyone’s. I think it’s time we got our priorities straight.’
Louise reached out to touch Karen’s shoulder. ‘Karrie – darling, I’m so sorry.’ When Karen did not respond, Louise looked at Susan. ‘Shall I go and get some coffees?’
Susan nodded. ‘That sounds like a good idea.’
When she’d left the room Simon looked up angrily. ‘Why on earth did you bring her with you? She’s the last person we want with us at a time like this.’
‘Something quite monumental has just happened in her life,’ Susan said. ‘I think you’ll find she’s going to be very different from now on.’
Simon grunted. ‘Huh! I’ll believe that when I see it.’
Louise returned with the coffees on a tray and they sat in silence as they drank them. When the door opened and a tall young man walked in, all four looked up expectantly. He introduced himself.
‘Good morning. I’m Paul Grainger, senior paediatrician here at St Mary’s and I’ve been looking after your small son.’
Karen was on her feet. ‘How is he?’
‘He has a hairline fracture of the skull but apart from a few bumps and bruises, that’s all.’
‘A skull fracture!’ Karen cried, leaping to her feet. ‘But that’s serious, isn’t it?’
‘A hairline fracture in a child of his age heals very quickly,’ the consultant told them. ‘We’ll keep him in for a couple of days just to be on the safe side.’ He looked at Karen. ‘You can stay here with him if you like. After that there’s no reason why you can’t take him home.’
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