by Rona Halsall
Her words were so loaded with sadness Martha felt a rush of love for her friend. She got up and went round the breakfast bar to give her a hug. What a terrible thing to have to deal with. No wonder she self-harmed. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmured as Izzy clung to her.
After a moment, Izzy sniffed back her tears. ‘It’s okay, I’ve come to terms with everything, just about. But I do know what it’s like to love a child. In fact, come with me for a minute, I’ve got something to show you.’
Martha released her from her hug and followed her upstairs to the box room, where she saw a photo album lying on the bed. Izzy sat down and patted the space beside her. ‘Come on, come and look at this.’
Martha did as she was told, curious now, certain that Izzy was going to show her a photo of her baby. There was something familiar about the album and the pictures, though, and her mouth fell open when she recognised a young Fran in one of the photos, and one of her mum and gran. Other pictures had been torn in half and she wondered if it was her grandad who’d been removed, a punishment for walking out on his family.
She frowned, uneasy. ‘Where did you find this?’
‘It was at the bottom of one of the boxes in Fran’s bedroom. But look, this is what I wanted to show you.’ She flipped through the album until she found a page filled with baby pictures. She pointed. ‘That’s you.’
Martha smiled. She’d never seen these before and wondered why her mum hadn’t shown her. But in every photo, the face of the person holding Martha had been torn off. Izzy pulled something out of her pocket. It was the same photo as one in the album, but this was complete, and the person holding Martha was no more than a girl. She studied the picture, and realised it wasn’t Fran holding baby Martha.
She gasped, completely confused.
‘It’s time you knew. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long…’ Izzy tapped the picture. ‘That’s me. I’m your mum. Your real mum.’
Thirty-Two
Martha
Now
Martha stared at the picture, then at Izzy, a whirl of unease in the pit of her stomach. There were similarities in the two faces, but no more than that, and she couldn’t be sure they were the same person.
‘Fran is my sister and she adopted you. Mum made that decision without even discussing it with me, said I was too young and…’ She looked at Martha, a tear tracking down her cheek. ‘I had no say in the decision. I never wanted that to happen.’
Martha stared at the pictures, unable to comprehend what she was being told. Izzy carried on talking, her voice wistful, hesitant.
‘Your father was a student, in his second year at university. I told him I was sixteen and he believed me. I loved him.’
Martha looked at her, saw her chin tremble.
‘With all my heart, I loved him, and I believe he felt the same about me. Neither of us knew I was pregnant. My periods had only just started a year before and were irregular anyway, and I’d had a couple of light bleeds during my pregnancy, so no alarm bells were ringing.’ She carried on staring at the picture, but she was clearly lost in the past. ‘Later I found out it’s called a cryptic pregnancy, when you don’t know you’re pregnant. It’s more common than you’d think. I didn’t look pregnant because I had a posterior placenta, where the child is carried at the back of the uterus, so you don’t feel kicking and it doesn’t show. Especially if you’re a bit overweight to start with. And I was a little plump back then.’ She sighed. ‘When you were born, our families got involved and made sure that we could never be together because he would be accused of statutory rape, due to my age. The truth could never come out because it would ruin his future and destroy the family reputation.’ Her hands were shaking as she held the photo. ‘He was studying law, you see, wanted to be a barrister.’ She sighed. ‘I had… a breakdown. I told you, didn’t I? Couldn’t come to terms with the idea that someone else was going to be your mum and that I could never see your dad again.’
Martha’s mind wouldn’t work. She felt dazed, bewildered. An oppressive silence filled the room, filling her up, choking her thoughts until Izzy’s words started to seep through the fog in her mind and she understood why it couldn’t be the truth.
She jumped up, her voice sharp and louder than she’d intended. ‘No! No. I don’t believe you. You’re making this up. Mum’s sister died, when I was little. I heard Mum and Dad talking about it. She was ill and she died.’ Her finger jabbed the air. ‘You… you’re not even old enough to be my mum. You’re just taking what I’ve told you and twisting it round.’
She was convinced that’s what was happening. Izzy had told her lie after lie and now she realised she couldn’t believe a word she said. Photographs could be manipulated with Photoshop. Or Izzy could have been a family friend, a neighbour; there were all sorts of possibilities. She realised this was some delusion Izzy was playing out, manipulating Martha’s thoughts until she didn’t know what she felt about anything. All that talk about wanting to help Martha fulfil her dreams, it was all rubbish. She was just mourning for her lost baby and had somehow decided that Martha could fill the gap.
She wants to take me away from Mum.
That was clearly Izzy’s goal, slowly sliding a wedge between them with her little remarks, taking advantage of events to achieve the outcome she was looking for. Which was what? She thought of the conversations about looking after her, finding a place to live where Martha could live too, going travelling. It was clear what her goal was. She wants to be my mum!
‘You’ve got to listen to me, I’m telling the truth. I’m thirty-eight. I was fourteen when I had you. Do the maths. Your birthday is—’
‘No! No more. I don’t want to hear another word.’ Martha’s body was thrumming with adrenaline. ‘You need to go,’ she said, glaring at Izzy, an outstretched finger pointing at the door. ‘Now! Right now. I want you to leave, or I’m ringing the police.’ The last thing she wanted was the police involved, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Izzy looked at her, lips pinched together, hurt shining in her eyes. ‘It’s the truth,’ she pleaded. ‘I know it’s hard to accept after everything, and maybe I should have told you sooner. But it’s not the sort of thing you can just come out with, and until I found the photos, I didn’t know how I could prove it to you.’ Her voice was rising in panic as Martha stood her ground, unmoved. ‘I was so scared of alienating you. I knew you had to get to know me first, before I could tell you.’ She moved the photo and the album off her knee, put it carefully on the bed and stood up.
Martha stepped closer to the door, increasing the distance between them.
‘We belong together,’ Izzy said. ‘You know that. Look how well we get on, how quickly we found a bond. That’s because we’re connected, we’ve always been connected.’
‘The photo proves nothing.’ Martha’s jaw clenched so tight her teeth felt like they were glued together. ‘I want you to pack your things and go.’
Izzy didn’t move and Martha wondered how you actually got someone to leave your house when they didn’t want to. Panic unfurled in her chest like a bud coming into flower. How have I been so stupid? How did I not realise what Izzy was really like?
The history of their friendship sped through her mind. Izzy was the one who’d initiated contact at Crufts, and she’d then more or less invited herself to the next dog show. She was the one who’d asked if they could be friends on Facebook, who’d started messaging her, asked if they could have video calls. Now she thought about it, everything to do with their friendship had been driven by Izzy.
Fear inched down her spine as they stared at each other. Izzy was showing no sign of leaving.
The sound of a car engine made Martha glance over Izzy’s shoulder, out of the window, and she gasped with relief when she saw Anna’s car pull up next door. Anna will know what to do, she always does. Apart from anything else, she’d feel safer next door than she did in here with Izzy. Decision made, she dashed out of the room, ran down the stairs and out
of the door. Her heart was pounding, her head bursting with confusion. She got to Anna’s house just as she was about to close the door.
Anna did a double take, looked startled. ‘Martha, sorry, I didn’t see you coming. How’s your mum?’
‘Fine, she’s fine,’ Martha gabbled. ‘Can I come in? Please?’ She glanced over her shoulder, making sure Izzy hadn’t followed her.
Anna frowned and held the door open while Martha brushed past. ‘What on earth’s the matter? You’re white as a sheet.’
Martha opened her mouth to speak but struggled to know where to start; so much had happened over the last few days and she no longer knew how everything was connected. All she did know was there was a stranger in her house who had some sort of fixation with her, and she needed her to go. How could I have ever thought she was a friend? Martha shuddered at how naïve she’d been, how trusting. But then Izzy had always been there when Martha had needed someone to talk to or help her out, and wasn’t that the definition of a friend?
‘Come into the kitchen, let’s have a cup of tea,’ Anna said, leading the way. ‘You look like you’ve had a nasty shock.’
Martha followed, and it was only when they were sitting at the table, with the tea poured into the lovely china cups and everything was as it should be, that Martha’s thoughts untangled themselves. The story burbled out of her, on and on, Anna frowning and nodding as she listened, until Martha finally ground to a halt.
Anna put her cup down and puffed out her cheeks. ‘Oh my goodness, Martha. That’s terrible. And you say this Izzy person is still in your house?’
Martha bit her lip and nodded.
Anna stood. ‘Let’s see if her car’s still there, shall we?’ They both went into the lounge and peeped out of the window. Izzy’s car was still in the drive. Martha’s stomach churned.
‘What am I going to do? Mum’s supposed to be coming home in a couple of days, but I can’t bring her home with Izzy still there.’
Martha felt awful now that she’d considered going off with Izzy and leaving her mum. What on earth was I thinking? How had her head been turned so easily? She felt terribly foolish. A lot of the things that had happened to her were of her own making – dashing up to Caernarfon, bringing Izzy back here. That was all her. Greg dying. She shuddered.
‘Don’t you worry,’ Anna said. ‘I’ll pop round and have a word, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll get Neil from the farm to come and throw her out. You wouldn’t argue with him, would you?’
Although he had the right build for working on the land, Neil wasn’t technically a farmer. He was a solicitor in Plymouth, but he’d kept a few acres of his late uncle’s farm and rented the rest of his land out to a neighbour. He was coming up to forty, Martha guessed, a bit of a loner, could be very intense if you got into the wrong conversation, but if you knew what subjects to avoid, he was affable company. Importantly, if there was ever a problem around the house that they couldn’t solve, he was always ready to help and had got them out of many a tricky situation, but there’d never been a situation like this and Martha felt uncomfortable asking.
‘Perhaps we should just call the police,’ Martha said, voice shaking. There was no way she was going back into the house.
Anna pursed her lips, a steely look in her eyes. ‘Oh, I don’t think we need to go to that extreme. People are so quick to get the police involved in domestic issues these days, don’t you think? In my day, we just talked to each other.’ Then she marched into the hall and out of the door before Martha could stop her, striding purposefully past the window where Martha was standing and through the gate that connected the two properties. She heard the door of their house open and bang shut.
She bit her lip, uncertain what to do. She shouldn’t have let Anna go on her own; she was seventy, and although she was still fit and active, Martha had no idea how she could possibly get Izzy to leave if she didn’t want to go. Words weren’t going to be enough; she was sure of that. And hadn’t Izzy confessed to attacking someone when she was younger? Oh my God! Then she remembered Neil, pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialled.
‘Yup,’ he answered after a few rings, and she explained the problem, her voice shrill and fast.
‘Okay, okay, don’t panic,’ he said in his usual unflustered Cornish drawl, sounding more farmer than solicitor. ‘Look, I’m only a couple of fields away. Be there in a tick.’
Martha leant her forehead against the window, her legs shaking with all the adrenaline that was rushing round her body. She should have made Anna wait for Neil in the first place rather than let her go dashing off. But then, Anna was a strong-willed woman and she wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to stop her.
She chewed a nail, wondering what to do, then decided she’d never forgive herself if Anna was harmed in any way. It was Martha’s mess and she should sort it out. She clenched her fists, walked out of the front door and back to her house. She could hear shouting coming from the open window upstairs, Izzy’s bedroom directly above her.
‘Stay away from her! She’s not interested.’ Anna’s voice, hard and firm. ‘Can’t you see that? She doesn’t want to know you. She’s got a mother and doesn’t need another one.’
‘But she doesn’t understand. All these years—’
Izzy’s voice was stopped by the sound of a slap. At least that’s what Martha thought it was. Her heart leapt up her throat and her hands covered her mouth. Bloody hell! What’s going on up there? She had just decided that she’d have to go inside and help Anna when she heard the familiar roar of a vehicle coming up the road. Neil! Thank God.
He stopped his Land Rover and jumped out, striding up the path at the very moment the front door opened and Izzy came running out, her face red and contorted, cheeks wet with tears. She ran past him, dumped her bag into the boot of her car, got in the driver’s seat, and screeched off without looking at anyone.
Martha watched her go, stunned by the turn of events and wondering what had happened in the bedroom. Neil ran a hand over his buzz cut, his eyes on the road where Izzy’s car had just disappeared.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Looks like that’s all sorted then?’
Martha nodded, still shocked by Izzy’s rapid exit. ‘Anna!’ she gasped, realising that she hadn’t reappeared yet. ‘God, I hope she’s all right. I think Izzy might have hit her – I’m sure I heard a slap.’
She turned and ran into the house and up the stairs to the front bedroom, where Anna was sitting on the bed, her face pale. She seemed smaller, crumpled in on herself, and her arms were clasped round her body, eyes staring at the wall.
Martha sat next to her, put an arm round her shoulders and peered at her face. ‘Are you okay? Has she hurt you?’
Anna turned to her, fear in her eyes. ‘You must never, ever do that again, Martha.’ She grabbed Martha’s arm, squeezing so tight Martha winced. ‘What were you thinking, bringing a stranger into the house?’
Martha shrugged her arm away, heat flushing up her neck and into her cheeks. ‘At least she’s gone now,’ she mumbled. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? She didn’t hurt you?’
Anna pursed her lips. ‘I’m fine. Just a little shaken.’
Martha helped her downstairs, as she seemed a little wobbly on her legs. Neil said his goodbyes once he was sure they were both okay and promised to look in later, just in case Izzy returned, reassuring Martha that he’d be keeping an eye out for her car as well.
When they reached Anna’s door, she extricated herself from Martha’s grasp and hung on to the door handle. ‘I’ll be fine now. I’ll make a fresh cup of tea, have a little rest. No need to worry, love.’
‘Are you sure? I feel really bad that you…’ Martha gave a frustrated huff. ‘That wasn’t right. I should be sorting out my own problems. I’m really sorry that happened.’
Anna gave her a fragile smile. ‘Oh, it’s fine. By the time you get to my age, you’ve had a lifetime’s worth of experience sorting out problems. No need to worry about me.’ She held up
a finger, a little habit she had when she remembered something. ‘Did you say your mum was coming home today or did I imagine that?’
‘Not today. It’s going to be a couple more days before she’ll be allowed home, I think.’ After everything that had happened she was unsure if this was a good or a bad thing. She was still fuming about all the lies, but was desperate to ask her mum about Izzy’s claims. Now that Izzy had gone, though, she had no transport, so she wouldn’t get a chance until tomorrow.
She kicked at a dandelion growing between the paving stones.
‘I was going to suggest I give you a lift to the hospital, if that would help. I’ve got a card for her and it would be nice to say hello.’
Martha looked up and gave Anna a grateful smile. ‘Perfect. That would be wonderful.’ She leant against the wall, suddenly light-headed. ‘What’s happening to my life, Anna? I just don’t understand why everything is going so wrong all at once.’
Anna patted her shoulder. ‘Who knows, love? Life has a habit of throwing the worst things at us when we’re least able to cope, doesn’t it?’ She opened the door and glanced at Martha over her shoulder. ‘Let’s have that cup of tea, shall we, then we’ll head off to the hospital. What do you say?’
Martha followed her inside, wondering what else could possibly go wrong.
Thirty-Three
Martha
Now
Anna’s presence in hospital lightened the mood, but it did mean that Martha couldn’t question her mum about Izzy’s revelations. It was between her and Fran and she wasn’t going to get into that conversation with Anna on the sidelines. Fran was delighted to have another visitor and she chatted away to Anna about cover designs for the book, leaving Martha trying to wrestle her thoughts into order. Somebody was lying, but Fran and Izzy had both proved themselves to be untrustworthy.