Coming Home to Seashell Cottage

by Jessica Redland

  All too soon, it was time to fly back to the UK, start my search for Shannon and hope that she wasn’t harbouring a sixteen-year-long hate vendetta towards the woman who had abandoned her at birth.

  I sighed as I pressed the intercom button at around seven on the Friday night of that week. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Ah! You are alive. Can I come in?’

  ‘It’s not really convenient, Ben. Sorry. You should have phoned first.’

  ‘I tried, but someone has been ignoring my calls.’

  ‘Sorry, but I have loads to do. I’ll call you next week.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I returned to the dining table and the pile of letters from Daran. A two-day work trip to Newcastle, followed by a day in Edinburgh, had provided a welcome distraction but now, with no news from Valerie Sinclair and no plans for the evening, I felt that it might just be the right time. I hoped that the years apart really had helped me get over him and I wasn’t about to rekindle strong feelings that had lain dormant but not forgotten.

  A knock on the door made me jump. Peering through the spyhole I saw Ben looking at his watch and reluctantly pulled the door open. ‘I thought I said it wasn’t convenient.’

  ‘And I thought that was rude, so I decided to ignore you. Someone was leaving so they let me in. What are you doing?’ He walked past me and into the apartment.

  ‘Won’t you come in and make yourself at home?’

  ‘I fully intend to,’ he said, heading for the sofa. Then he stopped and turned round. ‘I’ll stop now. You know I’m nowhere near that cheeky. If it really is inconvenient, I’ll leave, but I’m worried about you. I haven’t seen you since before my trip to Birmingham. You haven’t returned my calls or texts so I wanted to come round to say that I’m here if you want to talk about what happened at New Year, what happened on your trip to Ireland, or anything else for that matter. Or if you just want someone to share a curry and a cold beer with.’ He looked so sincere and so keen to help.

  ‘How did you know I’d been to Ireland again?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘I didn’t. I was talking about after New Year.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You’ve been again? When?’

  ‘This weekend just gone.’

  ‘Oh. Two trips to Ireland in the space of two weeks sounds like a story…’

  Feck it. It was time to let Ben in too. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ I said. ‘You’re making the place look a mess.’

  I curled up on the other end of the sofa from Ben. ‘I went to Ireland at the weekend to confront my da about why he kicked me out when I was sixteen. I know the fact that I was pregnant with the local trainee priest’s baby wasn’t exactly welcome news, but sending me to Cornwall and telling me I was dead to him was a bit harsh, don’t you think?’ I watched Ben’s expression carefully. If he was surprised or shocked, he gave nothing away.

  ‘Definitely a story,’ he said. ‘Do you want to tell me it all from the beginning?’

  ‘I may be able to help you find Shannon,’ Ben said, when I’d finished.

  ‘How?’

  ‘You know what I do for a living?’

  ‘Saintly stuff?’

  ‘Ha ha. What do I really do?’

  I shrugged. ‘Fecked if I know. Something for a charity. I think.’

  Ben laughed. ‘Yes, I do work for a charity. We help find missing persons and I focus particularly on young people who have probably run away from home. Consequently, I have a strong relationship with Social Services, adoption agencies and various other parties that could help.’

  ‘You really find missing people?’

  Ben nodded.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I swear I’ve told you loads of times.’

  I studied Ben’s face and realised that, although I’d spent a lot of time in his company over the years, I’d never bothered to really take the time to talk to him. It was always good craic being out with Ben, but that was mainly because we took the mickey out of each other all night. I felt a pang of regret for all the times I must have switched off or cut him short. Was I really that bad a person? ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  ‘For what?

  ‘For not listening to you. Tell me more about your job. And I’m not saying that just because I want to know how you can help me. I’m genuinely interested.’

  As Ben talked about his job and the families he’d reunited over the years, I was filled with admiration. I’d jokingly called him Saint Ben but it turned out he really was a saint; someone who genuinely did good and made a massive difference to the lives of others. It must be amazing to feel like that. My own career in PR seemed pretty insignificant. A few hours’ work from me could increase a client’s Twitter following, put a positive slant on a bad-news story and increase the cash in the shareholders’ pockets. A few hours’ work from Ben could reunite a family, take a teenager off the streets or save a child from abuse. They simply didn’t compare.

  ‘If your contact comes through with information first, you keep the king,’ Ben said. ‘But if I get answers first, I get him.’

  Bollocks. I suspected I was going to have to hand the king over. Right now, information on Shannon was far more important and I had every confidence in Ben that he was going to come through for me. He always did.

  Shortly after he left, a text came through:

  ✉︎ From Aisling

  Saw Da this morning. He banned me from being in touch with you. I told him where to stick his opinion. The kids can’t wait to see their Auntie Clare again and I’m dying to spend more time with my baby sister. This time in 3 weeks, we’ll be with you. Hurray for mid-term break! Any news on Shannon yet? xxxx

  * * *

  ✉︎ To Aisling

  No news. Hoping next week will bring something. Not a very patient person ;-)

  I smiled at the thought of Aisling and the kids coming to stay. I wouldn’t have predicted that at the start of the year.

  Returning to the letters, I picked up the first envelope in the pile from Daran and stroked my finger lightly over his curvy writing, a lump blocking my throat. I shook my head and returned the letter to the box. I wasn’t ready, after all. I wasn’t sure if I ever would be.

  Valerie Sinclair phoned me first thing on Monday with an apology. She’d been off sick all week, but she said she’d definitely get onto it and come back to me by the end of the week. Ben rang at the end of the day to tell me that he’d had some good conversations but had come up with nothing concrete yet. He also promised a deadline of the end of the week. He was definitely going to win the king.

  20

  ‘I’ve got news.’

  I buzzed Ben in on the Thursday and stood with the door wide open, waiting for him to come up in the lift, my heart thumping uncontrollably.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, ushering him into the lounge area. I could tell by the anguish in his eyes that it wasn’t good news.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ He took hold of my hand and shook his head. ‘Shannon was in a serious car crash a few days ago. She’s alive, but she’s in a bad way.’

  I could hear ringing in my ears and Ben’s face blurred in front of me.

  ‘I think you’d better sit down,’ Ben said, putting his arm round me. ‘Head between your knees. Take some deep breaths.’

  He led me to the sofa and I did as instructed, taking deep gulps of air until the ringing subsided and my vision returned. I sipped on the glass of water he gave me. ‘What happened?’ I asked.

  ‘She was on the M1 when a lorry jackknifed and hit the car she was travelling in. Apparently, she’s in a coma.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a couple of sheets of A4 paper, which he unfolded and handed to me. ‘I’m sure.’

  I scanned the words on the computer printouts of newspaper articles about the accident but found myself struggling to take it all in. ‘Jesus wept! The driver was her boyfriend? And he’s…?’

  ‘Okay, I think.’<
br />
  ‘Where on the M1 did it happen?’

  ‘Close to Junction 43.’

  My eyes widened. ‘Junction 43? But that would mean…’ I couldn’t bring myself to say the words, in case I was wrong.

  ‘It would mean that they were rushed to Jimmy’s. Your daughter’s in Leeds.’

  ‘Can you not drive any faster? I knew I should have driven.’

  Ben indicated to change lanes. ‘You don’t know the way, which is why I’m driving and, no, I can’t drive any faster. There’s a red light, in case you hadn’t noticed. And stop biting your nails.’

  ‘I can’t help it. I’m full of nervous energy.’

  The lights changed and Ben did his best to accelerate, but the flow of traffic wouldn’t allow him to get up to more than 20mph. He gave me a sideways glance. ‘You know I’m normally an optimistic person, but you do realise we probably won’t be able to see her, don’t you? Stop biting!’

  I sat on my hands. ‘I know, but I can’t sit in that apartment knowing she’s in the same city as me and doing nothing about it. I’d be climbing the walls.’

  ‘As long as you’re prepared for the reality.’

  ‘It’s worth a try.’

  My stomach twisted and turned as the car edged ever closer to St James’s University Hospital, affectionately known as Jimmy’s. What if we were too late? What if she’d already passed away? No. I mustn’t think like that. It could have gone the other way. She could have come out of her coma. How amazing would that be? But what if she refused to see me? How would I feel if I’d been given up for adoption and my biological mother turned up sixteen or seventeen years later? Would I want to see her?

  ‘Are you ready?’ Ben took my hand as we dashed across the car park. He’d already found out that she was in the Intensive Care Unit. I gripped his hand tightly as we made our way up lifts and down a maze of corridors.

  ‘What now?’ Ben whispered.

  ‘Would I be right in thinking they only let family in?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Piece of piss, then. I’m family.’

  Before Ben could protest, I marched up to the nurses’ desk. A large, matronly woman with curly, grey hair looked up. ‘I’ve just heard that my daughter’s been in an accident,’ I announced.

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Shannon O’Co… Kitteridge. Shannon Kitteridge.’

  ‘You’re her mother?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve been abroad. I’ve just got back or I’d have been here sooner.’ I hated the way the lies tripped off my tongue but, over the years, I’d got used to telling white lies to hide the truth about my past. I heard Ben gulp beside me.

  ‘And you are…?’ she said, glancing at Ben.

  ‘Shannon’s stepdaddy,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll need to get a doctor to speak to you before you can see her. Give me a minute. You can take a seat over there.’ She pointed to some plastic chairs nearby, then picked up a phone.

  ‘What if she’s calling Security?’ Ben hissed once we’d sat down.

  ‘We’re hardly a threat, are we?’ I whispered back. ‘We’re sitting down like good children, patiently waiting for the doctor.’

  ‘I don’t like telling lies.’

  ‘Neither do I but needs must. Besides, the only lie was about you being her stepfather. I am her mum, even if only biologically.’

  Six or seven excruciatingly slow minutes passed while we waited. Eventually, a petite woman appeared, holding a clipboard. ‘Mrs Kitteridge?’ she asked, barely glancing up from her paperwork.

  Ben and I both stood up. ‘Clare,’ I said, avoiding another lie or an awkward explanation.

  ‘I’m Dr Maahi Kaur. I’m treating your daughter.’ She flicked through a few sheets of paper on the clipboard, then tucked it under her arm and looked at me for the first time, with a gentle smile. ‘There’s no mistaking the family resemblance.’

  My stomach did a somersault. Shannon looked like me? I knew from the photo of her at six months old that she’d inherited the blonde hair, but I had no idea how she’d developed.

  ‘And you’re the father?’ Dr Kaur asked, turning to Ben.

  His cheeks reddened slightly. ‘Stepfather.’

  Dr Kaur nodded. ‘Shannon has been in a serious RTC. She’s suffered a severe head trauma, broken arm and broken ankle. The ankle and arm will mend, but the head trauma is the greatest concern. In cases like this, it’s vital to do our best to reduce any swelling that could cause damage to the brain. She’s therefore in an induced coma to allow this to happen.’

  Brain damage? I gripped onto Ben’s arm. I had questions. Lots of questions. I needed to be strong. ‘How long is she likely to be in a coma?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. The swelling has gone down, which is a positive sign, but her young body has been through such a lot that we don’t want to bring her round too quickly.’

  ‘She will pull through, though?’

  I held my breath as I waited for Dr Kaur’s response.

  ‘We would expect so. She’s young, healthy and strong. She’s definitely a fighter. What we can’t say is whether there will be any lasting damage until she comes round. All head traumas carry risks. We do our best to reduce those risks, but there are no guarantees. Do you have any other questions?’

  I shook my head. I probably did. I probably had loads. For now, I just wanted to see my little girl.

  ‘Nurse Wilson will direct you to Shannon. Please ask her if you think of anything else.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I whispered.

  We followed Nurse Wilson down a corridor and into what appeared to be a private room.

  ‘All the tubes and monitors can look scary,’ she warned. ‘She’s actually doing better than you might think from looking at them all.’

  But I wasn’t looking at the tubes and monitors. I was looking at the baby girl who’d grown into a beautiful young woman. Long, blonde hair was scraped back from her forehead. Bruises and small cuts covered her face, but I could still see that she was the spit of me when I was her age. It was uncanny.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Nurse Wilson shuffled out of the room.

  ‘The doctor was right,’ Ben said. ‘She’s just like you.’

  I stared at Shannon for a while, searching for any similarities to Daran, but it was hard to tell among the injuries and tubes. Please let her be all right. Please. Please don’t let me find her, then take her away from me.

  ‘How does it feel, seeing her after all these years?’ Ben whispered.

  ‘Like I’m in a dream. I can’t get my head around it. She was a tiny baby, and now…’ I shook my head. ‘Do you think she’ll be okay?’

  ‘I thought the doctor sounded positive.’

  ‘Did you? I hope you’re right.’

  I stared at Shannon again, unsure whether to talk to her or touch her hand. I turned to Ben. ‘I don’t know what to do now that we’re here. I feel like an intruder.’

  ‘In what way?’

  I started to bite my nails again and Ben gently slapped my hand away. ‘If Shannon had wanted to find me, she could have. I know that I have no legal right to look for her until she’s eighteen but she could have searched me out at any point and she hasn’t. As far as she’s concerned, I’m a stranger who abandoned her at birth and wants nothing to do with her. I don’t have a right to be here, Ben, staring at her while she’s in a coma fighting for her life. She doesn’t get to choose whether she’s ready to meet me or not. It’s not fair on her. In typical “me” style, I’ve barged back into her life without thinking through the consequences. I’ve lied to a nurse and a doctor, and I’ve dragged you into that lie.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I wanted to come. What do you want to do, then?’

  ‘I think we’d better go. I really shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t,’ said a man’s voice. ‘So why the hell are you?’

  21

  I spun round, heart thumping, to face a broad-chested Zac Efron lookalike of roughly seve
nteen or eighteen, leaning on a pair of crutches. He shook a dark fringe out of his piercing, blue eyes. Just like Shannon, his face was covered in tiny cuts and bruises, and he had some Steri-Strips across his right cheek. He had to be the boyfriend.

  ‘Hi. My name’s—’

  ‘I know who you are,’ he snarled.

  ‘You do?’

  ‘My leg may be busted, but my eyes still work.’

  ‘Clare O’Connell.’ Too many years in PR kicked in and I walked towards him with my hand outstretched.

  ‘Callum.’ He showed no sign of returning the handshake, although, to be fair to him, his movement was somewhat impeded by the crutches. Could I have been any more of an eejit? I let my hand dangle by my side again and shuffled backwards. ‘Shannon’s fiancé,’ he added.

  ‘Oh! Congratulations.’ It seemed a bit of a cheesy thing to say in the circumstances, but what was the protocol for the first time the absent mum meets the fiancé of the daughter she thought was dead?

  ‘How did you find her?’ he asked.

  I glanced towards Ben.

  ‘I did some research,’ Ben said.

  ‘Who are you, like? The police?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘Just a friend. I’m Ben. Hi.’

  Silence.

  ‘We came as soon as we found out,’ I said.

  ‘Really? How kind of you to rush to your daughter’s side in her hour of need. Except, it’s not her first hour of need, is it? It’s not like you gave a shit when her parents died and she was in and out of foster homes. She needed you then. She doesn’t need you now. She’s got me. I’m her family now. I’m, like, all she needs.’

  Ouch. ‘I’m sorry she’s had it tough. But there’s a good reason why I’ve only just appeared.’

  Callum flicked his hair out of his eyes again. ‘Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You’ve been living overseas? No, that’s not it. Erm … You’ve been working on your career and it’s taken this long to earn enough to buy a home for you and Shannon?’ He shook his head. ‘No, that’s not it either. I know! Your husband and kids wouldn’t understand if you admitted that you’d shagged the local priest and got knocked up at sixteen?’