The Little Blue Door
Page 13
‘Well, at least you’ve got a lot to be proud of,’ I said with a shrug, then threw my glasses on my sun lounger. Walking towards him I slipped my hands under his arms, wrapped myself around him, our bodies sticking together in the heat.
‘You smell like sun lotion.’ He sniffed my shoulder then gave it a little kiss.
‘Come on,’ I whined, ‘let’s swim.’ Grabbing his wrist, I dragged his beautiful, tightly squeezed body down the beach and into the clear water. Once hidden under the waves he relaxed, with only the odd comment of discomfort. We swam, splashed and had fun. It was nice to do the tourist bit.
‘Do you bother going on summer holidays when you live somewhere as beautiful as this?’
‘I know a lot of people can’t, they’re too reliant on summer tourism to travel themselves. We don’t often, people visit us or we go to England. I like Gaia to spend time with her cousins there. We do like to go adventure though. We have been to Thailand, Norway, a few other places.’
‘Wow.’ I paused pondering my next question, laying back into the sea. ‘So, do you think you’d ever move back there, England I mean?’
‘No.’
‘That was pretty down the line.’
‘We wouldn’t be able to have the lifestyle in England. It just wouldn’t be possible. Our money goes further here. This is her home.’ He gently patted the water with his hands. ‘I do want her to go to University in the UK. That’s years away though.’ Everything he said was logical. I had no argument to put forward. I stayed floating, drifting like a mildly deflated rubber ring that no one wanted to play with anymore. I closed my eyes for a while as Anton held my hand and floated along next to me, lightly tousled by the waves.
On the journey back to Anton’s home my brain was churning.
‘You’re quiet?’
‘Huh? Yeah. Sorry. I’m in my head.’
‘Is it all too fast?’
‘Probably,’ I agreed. Then we fell silent again, sat tentatively in the palm of fear. Wondering what the future should be. I got in my car at his and went back to the Airbnb alone. It wasn’t what I really wanted but I thought it was perhaps what I needed. At least I was looking forward to talking to my mother about it all. Maybe she could help clear my mind the way Mama used to. Perhaps she had some helpful insight or experience of love and men that could help me work out what I was going to do.
Chapter 13
Liliana, my mother, my beautiful mother, had left the front door open to welcome me in.
‘Hello?’ I called in the door.
‘Come in!’ She came down the narrow stairs, one foot meeting the other before taking the next. The opposite of Anton and Gaia.
‘I left the door open for you. I’ve made lamb kleftiko, I hope that’s okay?’ Leaving the door open hadn’t done much in the way of cooling the room down.
‘Sounds and smells wonderful!’
‘It won’t be ready for a little while. Would you like a drink?’
‘Just water please.’ I sat down in the hard red armchair, and as I did so, an old smell of smoke lifted from the fibres adding to the thick air. It made me want to choke and open up a line of questions I didn’t know if I could ask. She set my water on the nest of tables with a smile. We were still very awkward together. I wanted to break down the barriers of the past, but being around her made my hands and feet sweat.
‘I was hoping you could help me; I need boy advice. I always used to talk to Grandmama about things and thought maybe you could help?’
‘Okay, I can’t say I have much experience to be honest. I could help with cooking? Or gardening?’ As she spoke, I thought how she reminded me of a fine little squirrel. She spoke quietly and quickly, sudden moves seemed to frighten her and she had some quirky movements too.
‘Oh, come on? That can’t be true,’ I laughed. ‘You had me at sixteen! Plus, you’re a beautiful woman.’ She shifted uncomfortably and the smile went from her face.
‘I really haven’t. I don’t think I’d be very helpful.’ My disappointment turned towards hurt. I picked up my glass, taking a sip of water to calm and focus myself. I sat looking down at the liquid, clear, see-through. No promise of anything but clarity. I wished Liliana could have said the same.
‘Oh, well, as you haven’t opened up about things, I didn’t realise. It just seems odd to claim to have no experience and have had a child?’ Her face pulled into flat lines, her brows, her mouth. Even her nose flattened to her face. The look was so very similar to Grandpapa. Funny how much she looked like Mama but her expressions were Grandpapa. She didn’t want to have the conversation. She was ready to shut down again. ‘I know I agreed to leave the past in the past and just get to know the now, but that seems pretty hard. Of course I have so many questions, who wouldn’t? I’d like advice about Anton from Grandmama, but I’m stuck with you, and even asking you for that means talking about some of your life for the past thirty-one years. I mean, what have you been up to in that time, why did you never visit me, why…?’ I caught myself, I paused, I took a breath. ‘Sorry. I’d like us to actually form a real bond, if that’s even possible.’
‘I understand, as I said before, I’ve been here for fourteen years…’
I wanted to shake her slender shoulders until she told me something. I wanted to rummage around the house for evidence of the life she had chosen over me, and find out if it was worth it. I needed something, anything, tangible.
‘And what about before that? Have you had boyfriends? Do I have siblings? Have you always lived alone? You’ve told me nothing real.’
‘It too difficult to explain,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll try to help you with the Anton problem. I’ll try, tell me.’
My emotions were rattling around in my chest and it hurt to hold it all in. I wanted her in my life, a link to my true parents, the only ones who were there for me. ‘Okay,’ I began then had to stop to fight my urge to cry. I just wanted my grandparents back. All the willpower, all the desire in the world couldn’t change it. I couldn’t wish for it and they would be there, they weren’t going to magically appear. I was stuck with her and she wouldn’t even have a proper conversation with me. I swallowed it all back and started again. ‘Well, I really like Anton, I feel like it could go somewhere, and I had hoped to have a relationship with you too, but I live in Cambridgeshire. Between finding him and then you, I’ve been considering moving here or at least extending my trip. I don’t know, I just want help.’
‘Please don’t change your plans on my account. Don’t bring me in as a factor.’
Beads of sweat were accumulating under my heavy, loose hair making me itch. I scratched at the back of my neck, hard, and squirmed a little, not knowing what to say.
‘Okay, well that puts me in my place. You won’t share your life with me, you don’t want to be factored into my future…’ My innards were stripped raw and strung out on a line. I closed my eyes for a moment. Just a split second, to step into the darkness of my lids. When I was a child, I liked to hide in my cupboard to let the darkness hold me. I would sometimes sit and consider what was wrong with me, why my mother didn’t want me. Darkness became a blanket to hide in and I wanted more than anything to be back in that cupboard with my thoughts instead of my reality.
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ Her words didn’t matter, I stood up ready to leave.
‘I was abducted!’ she shouted, eyes looking at the floor by my feet. I just stood there; the only movement was her index finger tapping at her leg.
‘Abducted? What do you mean? What are you talking about?’ I was trying to stay strong but there was a distinct quiver to my voice. I fell back down into the chair, hurting my tailbone and surrounding myself in smoky air again.
‘I really don’t want to talk about it. I just, I don’t want you to leave, and I need you to know I wouldn’t leave you. I didn’t leave you. I was taken away from you.’ She still d
idn’t look at me.
‘You can’t say something like that and not explain more. I’m your daughter. You can tell me, I want to be here for you.’ My mouth was saying the right things and sounding calm too, but my brain was skipping from one reality to the next. She started shaking her head, so I continued talking. ‘I’m so confused, Grandmama and Grandpapa would have looked for you if you’d been abducted. It’s surely impossible.’ My heart was pounding harder as I considered the idea that she might be the victim in all of this, and not me.
‘It’s not impossible, it’s what happened.’ She looked up, frowning at me. ‘I never thought I’d see you again, ever.’ Her voice was hushed, but, to me, it cut through the dense air like a samurai sword.
‘How do you explain your letter then? Saying you didn’t want a baby and you weren’t coming back?’ I said, as my fingers dug into wooden arms of the chair.
‘What?’ Her eyes turned into pale blue slits.
‘The letter. The police even said because of the letter there was little they would do. You said not to bother looking for you, you were already gone.’ My voice mimicked her whispered tones, the room was so void of soft furnishings it almost echoed.
‘I didn’t write a letter. I didn’t.’
‘It was typed but you had signed it, it matched your handwriting.’
‘No, I didn’t, I didn’t write a letter.’
‘I’ve seen the letter and I’ve seen your writing on cards and school work. It matched. You left me in my pram and that letter on the doormat.’
‘No, you’re wrong.’ Her voice may have been soft but there was stone behind it now. She meant it and I believed her.
‘Okay, how then? Why? Who?’ I was stuttering questions in confusion. Looking at me, she lifted the corners of her mouth in a bewildering smile.
‘I remember that day. The last day I got to hold you, feed you, touch your soft skin,’ she sniffed. ‘I need to check on the dinner, it’ll be ready soon!’ And then she was gone. Suddenly alone in her living room with a cold sweat penetrating the heat. Should I get up and follow? Should I push the point? As my eyes darted around the blank room, I remembered the photo frame in the car. I got up to get it but opening the front door was no quiet job. I had to lift and tug with a clunk on its hinges. My mother came flying out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon in the air.
‘Please don’t leave! Please! It was your father, your father abducted me! Please just stay for dinner at least. I don’t want to lose you again, I can’t!’ I became numb, other than the strangest sensation, almost like the tingle of pins and needles, filling my fingers and toes. My breath became jagged and I just stood holding the door open, mouth open, car key in hand. Eventually I managed to croak out something about going to the car to get something.
‘Oh.’ She lowered her spoon. I don’t think she intended to harm me with it but she had a crazed look about her when she flew into the room. With eyes red from fighting back tears and her washed-out wavy hair fluffy, static like it’d been rubbed with a balloon. ‘I’m just dishing up, don’t be long.’ With a slight rib twitch, she turned back to the kitchen. I didn’t know what to say in response to her outburst so I just carried on to the car. When I came back, the fold-up dining table was out and she was placing the two armchairs beside it. I think my mouth had stayed open the whole time.
‘I thought we would eat indoors, more civilised,’ she said. I didn’t reply I just sat down still holding the gift all wrapped in tissue paper. She was starting to lay the table around me: knives, forks, salt, pepper, rattan place mats then food. Not a word was spoken. Only when she sat down did I pass the gift across the table. The first gift from my hands to hers. She took it and carefully and unwrapped it slowly. Her whole face lifted into a smile as she saw the photo of us. She gently stroked the glass with her thumb then pressed it to her chest, just as I had. A tear tripped and danced its way down her face.
‘I’m sorry to blurt that out. I didn’t want you to find out like that. I didn’t want you to find out at all.’ She placed the photo on the table, wiped her cheek and indicated to me to start eating. My stomach was pulling, churning and acid burned at my throat. It didn’t matter, I picked up my cutlery and proceeded as instructed. The lamb fell apart from a delicate touch and had filled the room with the smell of oregano and onions. I managed two mouthfuls before my cutlery was down.
‘I need to know more. I’m sorry but I do. My father abducted you? Why? What happened? Does that mean he did the letter? How? Everyone thought you’d ran away. The letter made sense to everyone…’
‘So truly no one ever looked for me? I guess it’s no surprise. I wasn’t easy to live with as a teen. I would never have left you though. Not out of choice. No matter what he wrote in some stupid letter.’ She didn’t look up from her plate. ‘I loved you. He had to drag me away from you kicking and screaming. Now please eat your dinner. Unless you don’t like it? I can make something else? I have some pasta?’ She was already starting to stand up.
‘No, no! This is delicious!’ In way of proof, I began to eat with vigour, hoping it could earn me more information.
Kicking and screaming? Abducted by my father? Nothing was making any sense to me, and the last thing I wanted to do in that moment was eat a lamb dinner and be civilised. The heat and the information curdled in my belly. It made it hard to keep eating, but I did, quickly. She was watching me out of the corner of her eye, until she had enough of my haste. She dropped her knife and fork in a clatter. There was a long silence, she choked on her food a little and scrambled for her napkin to cover her mouth.
‘The man who had got me pregnant, your father, took me from my home. I didn’t want to leave you. I didn’t want to be with him, he took me. Eventually, he brought me here and I lived as his wife until he died seven years ago. I lived in fear for most of my life.’ She spluttered a little but her words were firm but calm. She didn’t look at me, instead she carefully picked her knife and fork back up to eat. As though that was it. I could tell she wouldn’t say more. I decided to bide my time.
‘Do you like the frame?’ I managed to rouse a smile from her round lips. She had made more effort that day. At some point before dinner, she had pulled her hair back into a bun and was wearing a little lip balm, or maybe gloss, across her lips. Her terracotta dress was still worse for wear but was much improved on our first two encounters.
‘I love it, thank you. It’s so very kind of you. At last I have something worth displaying.’ Thirty-one years and nothing to display. What sort of life had it been?
‘I’m pleased you like it.’ Three more mouthfuls and I’d be done.
‘I do, it’s so beautifully carved. I’m not sure if I’ll keep it down here or put it upstairs.’ Two more mouthfuls and I’d be done. ‘I think down here perhaps. I probably spend more time down here.’ One more mouthful. Done. ‘You know, I still can’t believe you’re here. You’re beautiful.’
‘Thank you.’ Instinctively I looked down at my dress and brushed my hands across the soft fabric. It was the same purple one I had worn on my birthday. I’d wanted to make an effort for our first family meal. She looked at me with sombre eyes. She was slow to finish eating, chewing each mouthful carefully. As soon as she was done, I had to start again.
‘Grandmama and Grandpapa said you left. They really thought you’d run away, left me. You said kicking and screaming? Surely you knew about the letter? I’m so confused!’
‘You’re confused! I hadn’t. I wouldn’t. All I can think is he did it straight after taking me.’ She stood up, picked up the plates and was back off to the kitchen leaving me once again. This time I started putting everything back where it came from like a child tidying toys at night, desperate for story time. Only this felt more like watching a horror story unfold.
We sat for a moment. I knew I’d have to start, have to nudge her to talk. There was no way it would come out naturally.
Her hands pressed her head, and she took a few deep breaths before she began, hands falling over her eyes for an extra moment as she began to open up.
‘Because he was evil. When I was fifteen, he was twenty-eight. Back then I thought he loved me’ – her hands rubbed her temples before they dropped to her lap – ‘he would treat me, take me to expensive restaurants and such. Back then he was quite good looking too and I used to lie and tell Mum and Dad I was going out with my friends. I knew they wouldn’t let me spend time with someone so much older. They would’ve been right, of course.’ She spoke softly and steadily, not looking at me. I was spinning again with the new information. Fifteen and twenty-eight? ‘For a short time, he locked me in a room in his house, not far from Mum and Dad. He told me you’d be better off without me and, with time, I believed him. Even now, looking at you, I can’t help but think he was right. He told me no one wanted me and no one was looking for me. I guess he had been right on both counts.’ She looked at her hands ruefully, and clenched them like screwed-up paper, before releasing them and looking at me.
‘You’re here now,’ she said. Her round eyes became wide as she looked me over. I thought I likely looked rather ill, I felt ill. Fifteen and twenty-eight. With so many thoughts in my head everything was starting to turn into confetti, thrown in the air and impossible to retrieve.
‘So, wait’ – I managed to catch a thought – ‘who was he? My father?’ My father the child abductor, a confetti piece I wish I hadn’t caught.
‘His name was Adam Jones. He worked in banking, he was very intelligent, always good with numbers and statistics.’ This was bizarre.