The Home
Page 7
Yesterday, Nelly received another letter from her foster parents. This time she showed it to me. It said that they were talking to Ray and Kath about adopting her by the end of summer. Nelly said she would write back and ask them if they could adopt me too and then we would be able to stay together. Maybe they still have the bicycle? Maybe they will buy a new bicycle for me!!
A.
Monday 21 August 1972
Dear Diary,
Me and Nelly have been waiting every day for the postman to bring a letter from her foster parents. While we wait Nelly tells me about them. They seem nice but their house is very far away – not even in London but in a place called Surrey. They have a big garden and a shed where the bicycle lives.
A.
Tuesday 22 August 1972
Dear Diary,
The letter came. We were so excited to open it. But when Nelly was reading it, I could tell by her face that they had said no. When I asked why, she said they can only afford to adopt one child and that they would come and collect her on Friday. Why don’t they want me? I ran to the den because I didn’t want Nelly to see me cry. Nelly must have told Ray I was upset because he came into the den and hugged me for a long time.
A.
Sunday 27 August 1972
Dear Diary,
It’s been two days since Nelly left. I can’t believe she’s gone. Why would she leave me? I hate her for leaving.
A.
Sunday 3 September 1972
Dear Diary,
Ray found me crying in the den again. He gave me lots of hugs and offered me a cigarette. He told me it would make me feel better. I tried it, but I coughed everywhere. Ray started laughing and then I started laughing. He told me not to worry, I would find a new friend soon. He told me he had a secret but if he told me, I had to promise not to tell anyone. I crossed my heart and hoped to die. He said that a new girl might be coming soon and she was the same age as me and she liked playing skipping and ball games as well. Perhaps she could be my new friend? I said I would think about it. That made him laugh and then he offered me the cigarette again – the second time I didn’t cough as much and Ray told me I did very well. Fat Franny and Nasty Nora never told me I did well, even when I got full marks on my spelling test.
A.
Sunday 10 September 1972
Dear Diary,
Ray and Kath said they had a surprise for us last night. They had placed a cloth over the TV and Ray wheeshed it away like a magician. When he switched it on, it was in colour!! Ray and Kath told us all to say thank you and afterwards we all watched TV, except Mary who sat in the corner without speaking to anyone. Ray said she had a face on her and to leave her alone. After TV, we all went to bed, but we couldn’t stop talking about the new colour TV. When would we be able to watch it again? Mary told us to shut up and stop going on about Kath and Ray. Maureen said they were wonderful – we had new clothes, birthday parties, and a colour TV. Mary told her she was stupid and blind. She’s so moody these days.
A.
Monday 2 October 1972
Dear Diary,
Ray showed me a new den! It’s hidden, and you have to go through the trees at the bottom of the garden to see it. Ray said it was our secret and he built it just for me as I was so sad about Nelly leaving. I told him that Nelly hadn’t even bothered to write to me. He said that’s why I needed my own den. It’s better than the old one. It has blue plastic material pulled over poles of wood, like a tepee. Ray said it’s even waterproof so I can come here when it’s raining. He said to meet him here every day after school before chores and he will give me a cigarette. I told him that I might not always have time as we have homework now as well. He said to try my best.
A.
Friday 6 October 1972
Dear Diary,
I love my new den! Ray has made it nice and cosy with an old blanket and some pillows. He shares his cigarette with me. I don’t really like it but I’m getting used to the taste. Ray made me promise not to tell anyone about the den. I asked when the new girl would be coming and he said very soon. I asked him if I could tell her about it when she comes and he said best to just keep it between us for now.
A.
Sunday 19 November 1972
Dear Diary,
I still haven’t received a letter from Nelly. She must be very busy with her new family. This morning, I went to my secret den with my Mandy annual. One of the littlies must have discovered my den by accident as I found a lollipop wrapper in the corner under the blanket. I bet it was Julia – she’s eating those lollipops every week. I told her her teeth will fall out if she keeps eating so many.
A.
Tuesday 5 December 1972
Dear Diary,
I am writing this under the covers. The lights were supposed to be turned off ages ago but we can hear Ray and Kath arguing upstairs. Everyone is quiet pretending to sleep but we’re all listening to them. It’s very loud. Kath was saying she’s not going to get involved this time. Involved in what? Then there was a big smash and now everything has gone quiet. Julia is crying herself to sleep. She’s been doing that for the last few nights. These littlies need to toughen up – at least they have a chance of being adopted.
A.
Wednesday 13 December 1972
Dear Diary,
This is our last week at school before the Christmas holidays. Today, we made Christmas cards and we have to post them. I wrote five – one for Ray, one for Kath, one for Maureen, one for Mary, and one for Nelly, even though she hasn’t written to me once. But Mr Wright said it’s the season for forgiveness and reaching out.
A.
Thursday 21 December 1972
Dear Diary,
Kath is turning into Nasty Nora. She’s always in a bad mood these days. She doesn’t just use those baking spoons for baking but to give us a good hiding. She even gave Michael, one of the younger boys, a crack round the head with one for telling a rude joke. Normally, she would find it funny. When we asked if there would be any Christmas presents, she said we’ve had more than enough already this year.
A.
13
Rosemary
Rosemary glanced at the red display on the digital clock by her bed and sighed: 5.45 a.m. It used to be her favourite time of the day after they adopted Angela, mainly because it was just the two of them. For much of their married life, James had been an early riser. He liked to be up and showered with a good breakfast inside him and out to work. He would wake, go downstairs and make some coffee and bring her a cup to sip in bed while he then took his shower. While he got dressed, Rosemary would prepare breakfast and they’d eat it together while reading the newspaper and chatting over their various plans for the day. He’d always been ambitious, but he used to say she’d given him a purpose. Years ago, Rosemary had hoped it had nothing to do with proving himself to her parents, because if so, she knew it to be futile. James was working class and it didn’t matter how successful he became, he would never be good enough for Selina and Jonathan Kershaw-Hughes.
After James had left for work, Rosemary would get herself ready. When Angela had come to live with them, she had seamlessly slipped into the routine as well. But since James had become ill, there were days when he stayed in bed until ten or eleven in the morning. Sometimes, he was up and dressed, and Rosemary could well imagine that his diagnosis had just been a horrible nightmare. She would suggest a picnic or a trip to an antiques market and he would agree, but an hour later she would find him napping in his armchair, Rosemary all dressed up with nowhere to go. She’d learnt to get on with things – there was always something to do – but inside she was frustrated. She had looked forward to James’s retirement for so long, had spent countless hours planning what they would do and the holidays they would go on. And best of all, it would just be the two of them. But it wasn’t meant to be. These days she spent most of her time caring for him. Not that she minded – she would do anything for him – but she couldn’t help feeling thwarted.
&
nbsp; From the moment he had slipped a ring on her finger, Rosemary had always worried that she would lose James, a fear she had managed to keep hidden for the most part. Over the years, she’d begged him to be careful driving his beloved car, certain that she would receive a phone call from the hospital saying he’d been in an accident. Or perhaps she would find him strewn across the garden, having fallen from the stepladder while trimming the hedges. Or bent over his workbench in the shed, face down, after suffering a heart attack. Or splayed across the hallway after tripping on the rug.
In her superstitious effort to prevent the unspeakable, there were very few scenarios Rosemary hadn’t envisaged, but cancer had given her imagination the slip and the silent but deadly disease had crept up on them both. Now that the worst had happened, she couldn’t deny there was an element of relief – the fear of the unknown was always worse than the reality of the specific – but as the weeks went on, not even Rosemary could have visualised the sheer horror of watching a loved one succumb to cancer. The disease toyed with them, retreating and advancing depending on the stage of chemotherapy, but always poised ready to wage war again. And with every battle fought, James was left a little more defenceless and Rosemary realised her greatest fear would eventually come true.
14
Evelyn
Evelyn stumbled through to the kitchen, eyes unseeing. She managed to pick up an empty glass from the sink and fill it with water. She leant down to Charlie’s water bowl, her hand shaking as she poured some of it in, before finishing the rest herself in massive gulps. The smell of dog food made her feel queasy and she left Charlie to it, going into the living room and flopping on the sofa, face down. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the voice on the phone, barely noticing when the music from next door started up.
It had been just after lunch on a Tuesday afternoon. Evelyn didn’t usually answer the phone during the weekdays because it was frequently the utilities companies following up on their bills, but when it rang for the second time in thirty minutes, Evelyn wondered if it was Doreen from upstairs. Picking it up, she heard a woman’s voice on the end of the line introducing herself as Susan from the Family First Adoption Support Group. Instantly, Evelyn wished she’d left it to ring and she found herself holding on to the curls of the phone cord as if they could stop her falling.
‘Is that Evelyn Harris?’
For a moment, she considered lying. No, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong number. But then what?
‘It is,’ replied Evelyn warily.
‘Good afternoon, Evelyn, how are you?’
‘Fine, thank you.’ She did not return the question.
‘That’s good to hear. Would you have an idea why I might be calling today?’
After so many years of dousing the memories, her mind betrayed her: St Anne’s Mother & Baby Home for unmarried women in South London, her changing body, the shame and anger at Jimmy, and ultimately the determination to give her baby a better chance in life. She didn’t remember anything of the birth – just the horrific pain of the contractions and her screams as they echoed through the maternity unit.
St Anne’s was run by the Church of England and was overseen by an unsympathetic, pious woman called Joan. Evelyn hated her on sight. Her hooded eyelids were unable to conceal her judgement and her thin lips never smiled. When she was particularly irritated, which was frequently, they pressed together as if she were trying to stop her thoughts from escaping. Although it was her sharp tone, instructing the midwife to ‘knock her out and keep her quiet’ that Evelyn last remembered before giving birth. Later, she learnt that it was common practice to put mothers in a drugged state so their screams didn’t scare the other girls.
Evelyn’s own mother had arranged the confinement as soon as she found out about the pregnancy and it was several months before Evelyn was allowed to leave the hidden grounds of St Anne’s. To passers-by, it looked like a normal family home – a driveway with a sloping front garden leading to a large detached house – but the iron gates were always locked and the large English oak trees surrounding the house camouflaged a world of hidden pregnancies, forced adoptions and quiet reprimands.
‘Hello? Evelyn? Are you still there?’
‘Yes, I’m here,’ she replied, dragging herself back into the present.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sure this must be difficult. Would it be easier if I came to see you?’
Evelyn couldn’t speak. She’d worked too hard to forget. She didn’t deserve the indulgence of wondering, remembering. Without replying, she quietly replaced the receiver in its cradle and went into the kitchen to pour herself a large double.
*
Evelyn opened her eyes and closed them again, reluctant to face reality. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew the vodka wasn’t working, but she’d been down this path before. It never obliterated the memories completely. But now, they came in full force and she didn’t have the strength to refuse them. She’d never seen her child. The midwife had whisked the small bundle away before she woke up. It wasn’t a surprise, of course. With no wedding proposal forthcoming, Evelyn had had to give up her baby – the social stigma of being a single mother would have ostracised her for life – but still Evelyn had been shocked by the depth of desire to shield her new-born from the world, and even more so by the need to hold her baby in her arms. It was an ache that would never be pacified, and as it became more unbearable, Evelyn found her own way of forgetting through a mix of drink and drugs. It worked for a while; it was the swinging sixties, after all, and there were all types of hedonistic pleasures available. But while the sorrow would go away for a time, it would always come back stronger and Evelyn had to take more and more drugs to make it disappear.
It was years later, when she woke up on a park bench, covered in vomit and with half of her clothes missing, that she realised she would die this way if she didn’t get help. And while she’d been clean for several years now, at least from drugs – she wasn’t prepared to give up her vodka – she still fought the addiction.
Evelyn could feel the tingle of desire race through her body. Just one hit, a voice whispered, and all of this will go away. Evelyn sat up on the couch. It would be so easy: some cash and a quick word with one of the lads on the estate. No, Evelyn thought. No, no, no…
As if sensing her need for a distraction, Charlie barked and went to the front door, eager to go out for his walk. She quickly picked up his lead, deliberately leaving her purse behind.
*
Evelyn walked Charlie down Hornsey Lane to the park on the corner of Highgate Hill and Dartmouth Park Hill, focusing on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other. She counted 839 steps before she felt somewhat in control. The numbering was a trick her counsellor had taught her to use whenever she felt her addiction start to take over. Still, she didn’t stop counting, even when she got to the park and followed Charlie as he explored his surroundings.
Her daughter would be twenty-seven years old now, almost twenty-eight. What was she like? Was she happy? Evelyn hoped with all her heart that she was. She wrapped her arms around her skinny waist, remembering how big her belly had been. At six months, she wasn’t sure her stomach would stretch any further, but it had. Perhaps if Jimmy had stuck around, things might have been different. Evelyn let herself imagine a different life, one where Jimmy had married her and they’d raised their daughter together, perhaps even giving her a brother or sister. But it was too late for all of that now. Back then, Jimmy had left and she’d had no choice. But now she did have a choice and an opportunity to make the right one. She just had to find the courage.
*
When the phone rang two days later, as she knew it would at some point, Evelyn counted six rings before picking up the receiver and agreeing to meet Susan that afternoon. She had offered to come to her flat and Evelyn guessed it was part of an assessment to see how she lived.
Putting the phone down, Evelyn looked at the clock. It was late morning and she was thankful that she only
had a few hours to wait. By some miracle, next door was quiet, and Evelyn hoped it would stay that way until after Susan’s visit. She was coming at two o’clock and Evelyn wondered what she would say. Would she ask about her past? Would she know about her drug addiction? Would she ask about Jimmy? How, after giving birth, she had gone to his parents’ house asking for him. She’d gone to his dad’s garage as well, but he’d said Jimmy didn’t work there any more and was off somewhere in the city. It must have been on her sixth visit when it became clear that he’d told his family not to tell her where he was.
‘Go on, clear off,’ his mum had finally shouted from the front gate of their house. If only you knew what kind of son you have, thought Evelyn bitterly as she had walked away humiliated.
She’d tried living at home with her mum, but it was unbearable, her mistake the final brick in the wall that had grown even higher between them since her father’s death. In the end, she’d found a live-in cleaning job for one of the big hotels in Park Lane but struggled to hold down anything permanent.
Evelyn didn’t like to think too much about what happened after that: the squatting, the drugs, complete days of oblivion where she’d wake up not knowing where she was or who she was with. But at least they didn’t know about her illicit pregnancy and her time in St Anne’s. To them, she was just Evie – a free spirit looking for the next hit. Her body never betrayed her secret either. Her breasts stopped leaking, her stomach became flat, and on some days it was like she’d never even given birth. But while her body complied, her mind rebelled, and she never managed to escape the shame and guilt, no matter how many drugs she took.
*
Closing the door behind Susan, Evelyn heaved a sigh of relief that the meeting was over. She couldn’t remember when she’d last been so nervous and, pulling the bottle of vodka from the cupboard where she’d hidden it, she took a long guzzle.
Her name was Angela and she had been searching for her. Susan couldn’t give any more information – not even her second name – but Evelyn had been surprised by just how sympathetic Susan had been to her situation. By the end of the hour, for the first time ever, Evelyn felt someone was on her side. And so, after all these years, there was a chance to finally meet her birth daughter. She took another swig and wondered what she was like.