Read Amelia's Story (Box Set the Complete Series Books 1 & 2) Online
Authors: D. G. Torrens
Amelia's Story (Box Set the Complete Series Books 1 & 2) (29 page)
The following week we arrived nervously at the hospital as newlyweds. We were both so nervous; we could hardly bear the anticipation of the wait. Then finally we were called into the consultant’s office.
“Well it’s good news. You are pregnant.”
I let out a scream, I could not believe it, I had always believed I was not able to get pregnant, and here I was four weeks pregnant! It was another dream fulfilled; I was to become a mother. I made a promise to myself that day to be the best mother in the whole world. My child would never know pain, or rejection. My child would receive all the love a parent could give. I never once thought the IVF treatment would work. It seemed like such a long shot to me. It was the last thing I was expecting to hear that day. The very last thing indeed.
My husband, Lucas was also shocked, he never spoke a word for ages, he simply sported a wide grin on his face. I knew Lucas would make a great father, he was kind and thoughtful and very considerate.
I informed work three months later that I was pregnant. I knew we were having a baby girl, which I was so pleased about. I had wanted a girl, a little princess, but I kept the sex of the baby a secret. I also told them I would be going off on maternity leave the following November. My immediate boss informed me that she was both pleased and sad to be losing her best worker! I wor
ked throughout my pregnancy. By the seventh month I was waddling around like a goose. I had grown so huge, all tummy and all frontal.
One Friday night in the October I was lying down on the sofa. Lucas was pottering around the house, when something on the Central News Channel caught my eye. They were showing a picture of a fallen soldier on the screen. It took a while for it to register that it was Joshua. I turned up the TV and listened intently to the news bulletin.
Joshua had been killed by a roadside bomb in Afghanistan; he was due to be flown home in the next couple of days. He was just 23-years-old. I burst into tears, crying uncontrollably, our last conversation flashing before me.
“What if I don’t make it back Amelia, you will regret it.”
I climbed up the stairs and fell on to the bed. I curled up into a ball and cried for hours. I briefly explained to Lucas what had happened. He knew to leave me to mourn and cry it out of my system. I barely spoke a word that whole weekend. I was in total shock. As I was pregnant I was even more emotional and took the news much harder. No one but Lucas had known about Joshua, certainly no one in my town. It took me a while to get over the loss of Joshua. He was so young, and he had the rest of his life in front of him. He was also right: I was regretting not seeing him that one last time. If I could rewind time I would have seen him, and sent him away with a tight hug, wished him Godspeed and a safe return. But it was too late. That moment in time had gone, and so had Joshua. I will always regret not saying goodbye to him face to face. An old saying ran through my mind, “Time once passed can never be retrieved.”
However, I was so worried about upsetting Lucas if he had found out. Thinking about it now, I would have done nothing wrong at all. I simply wanted to send Joshua away with a hug and a face to face goodbye. How can that have been wrong? Why did I feel it would have been a betrayal? I just know if I could turn back the clock now I would most definitely have seen him before he shipped out to
Afghanistan. But sadly once a moment has passed it has gone forever.
That was a significant moment in my life. Because I was carrying my beautiful daughter, Lilliah, a living being growing inside of me. It was a very strange thing to receive news that someone close to me had passed away whilst I was carrying a life.
A couple of months later in the December, I had put my house up for rent with a local estate agent. Lucas and I were paying two mortgages and it was a lot of money per month to part with when you had a baby on the way. In a very short time I had received a phone call from my estate agent informing me that they had recently showed some one around and they had fallen in love with my house. They were quite happy to pay the monthly rent and wanted to move in almost immediately. I was so happy as everything was falling into place. We would be so much better off each month, and this way I managed to keep my house and would not have to sell it. I did not wish to part with my house; it was so much more than just a building to me.
I had enquired about the person who would be renting my house. It was a lady who had recently separated from her husband and needed a place of her own for just six months while she figured out what she wanted to do. I was asked if it would be okay if the new tenant could drop some personal effects off at the house in advance of her moving in on the Monday. Of course I agreed. I also mentioned that I would make one last visit to the house on the Saturday to leave a welcome basket for the new tenant and a list of contact numbers for her.
On the Saturday morning Lucas and I arrived at the house. We made our way inside and I carried the welcome basket which consisted of chocolates, wine and a house warming card. I dropped them off in the kitchen and started walking towards the bedroom. As I approached the bedroom door I just froze. Lucas also stood in silence. I don’t think he could quite believe what he was seeing either. There were large pictures of Joshua lined up against the bedroom wall.
My Joshua, the soldier that never made it back. This was too much. I could feel my heart beating harder and faster, I turned to look at Lucas. He left me alone and walked into the living room. I walked into the bedroom to take a close look at Joshua in his uniform, resting against my bedroom wall. This made no sense to me. I didn’t know Joshua’s family at all, and they didn’t know me. The town was a little too big to know everyone and their business, unlike the previous village I had lived in. What were the chances of this happening? A million to one, surely! My house had been rented out to Joshua’s grieving mother. Was this meant to be, I wondered? This whole situation was so surreal to me. But it was actually happening. It was also purely coincidental.
Joshua’s mother lived in my house for six months. She was an amazing tenant. We were in contact via email from time to time about matters purely to do with the house and anything that needed fixing from time to time. However, she had no idea who I was. It was just one of the strangest moments of my life.
My baby’s due date had arrived: New Year’s Day 2009. I woke up feeling none too great. I was bleeding and had to be rushed to hospital. They said it was nothing to worry about; however, my baby was ready to be born! So that day the midwife kept me in hospital and induced me. Within a very short space of time I was 8 cm dilated and screaming for my life, it seemed. I never knew you could feel such pain. I thought I was dying for a while. Of course I wasn’t! I was simply giving birth, like millions of women before me. Lilliah was born within 55 minutes, with a shock of jet black hair, weighing just 6lb 3oz.
I was not prepared for the instant love I was to feel the minute I held my beautiful baby in my arms. It was as if everything I had been through in my entire life had purpose and was leading me to this very moment. If I had lived a different life I would not be holding my beautiful Lilliah in my arms. I was a completely changed person that day. I was a mother, a devote
d mother, who would spend her life protecting her baby. Lucas was there throughout the entire labour. He cut the cor
d‒
his proudest moment, he advised me. He cried on seeing his daughter for the very first time. Lucas held my hand and told me he loved me. He said he was so proud of me and thanked me for giving him our beautiful baby.
We waited all day to be allowed home. Once we were on our way we could not wait to get home. Lucas’s family were waiting to greet us on our arrival. His mother had cleaned our house from top to bottom. They had put flowers everywhere and just could not wait to see the new addition to the family. It was the most incredible day of my life. Lilliah was the first grandchild to be received into Lucas’s family. I just knew she would be loved beyond words and doted on for always.
Lucas and I were natural parents, I insisted on breast feeding Lilliah, and so I did for the next 12 months or so. I knew what unconditional love was now. I knew my daughter would come before anything and anyone. I was in awe of my beautiful princess, I had been blessed, I was a mother, and I would never ever let her down not ever. During the first few months of Lilliah’s life I joined Face book, with the intention of finding my father’s side of the family. I had no idea if he was interested in seeing me; it was very possible he had a new family. Giving birth to Lilliah only resurfaced my need to find my father and grandparents. I wanted them to know they had a grandchild and great grandchild. I wanted them to meet this amazing little person, my daughter.
(Image of my newly found grandparents taken in 1945)
Once I signed up for Face Book, the first name I typed in was my father’s name. A few names popped up on the screen, but there was one face that stood out. It was an old face, of about the same age as my father would be. So I sent a direct message explaining who I was and that I was looking for my father. As I pressed “send”, I took a deep breath. What if he was not interested? What if he rejects me again? I could only hope that he would at least message me back if he was my father. I needed to complete my life’s jigsaw puzzle. I needed his side of the story; I needed the entire story.
The next day I received a long reply back. It was my father. He was living in the
Philippines, and married with three children. I was both elated and disappointed. On the one hand I had found my father, but on the other hand he was a 24 hour plane ride away. I gave him my email address and we started communicating instantly. I received an email complete with pictures attached; those pictures were of me when I was a toddler. We were in a park, I had on a white cotton dress and I was running. There were more pictures of my father when he was young man in his twenties. I must have looked over those pictures a hundred times. Tears filled my eyes, thoughts of what could have been ran through my mind.
My father told me all about his life: how he had been married three times, and that he had a further three children from his second marriage: Debbie, Rosie, and Justin. My half
-sisters and brother from my father’s second marriage had had a good life with my father: private schools, travelling the world, and more often than not a five-star life style. My father had become Chief Engineer for the Sultan of Brunei. On securing this incredible position with the Sultan to work on his many private planes, my father had moved his family out to Brunei, where they lived an amazing life. Money was plentiful, and he was on his way to becoming a millionaire. Only he was too fond of spending money: five-star hotels, boats, and expensive restaurants.
I was fascinated with the life he had led, and thought how lucky his children from his second marriage were. He told me how every time the Sultan took a flight anywhere in the world, he insisted on having my father aboard the flight. After each flight, the Sultan would hand my father a large brown envelope full of cash. This could be anything from £10,000, £20,000 to even a £30,000 tax-free lump sum cash as a bonus, which he received on top of his enormous salary. He was living the high life.
By the time Debbie and Rosie were in their teens, my father started having an affair with his maid, right under the nose of his second wife. Eventually he separated from his then wife, who was devastated as she was so in love with my father, and there was no one else for her but him.
Eventually
, he packed his second wife back to England with her youngest child, Justin. Debbie and Rosie chose to stay in Brunei with our father; their life was in Brunei, their schools and their friends. Over time he married the maid and had a further three children.
I was shocked at the news that he had a total of eight children, including Jake and me. I was unsure how to feel about my father. My father also advised me that my grandparents were still alive, and that they would love to hear from me. That’s when he informed me that he had not spoken to my grandparents for ten years, following a fall out, and that he had no future plans to, either. He gave me their address and left it for me to get in touch with them.
As my father and I exchanged emails, I told him all about my tragic life following his departure from it. He was shocked to say the least. He was saddened, and said that Jake and I should have gone to live with him. This statement confused me really because I knew he had not bonded with us as babies, and he could not have got away from us fast enough in the end. However, I pushed negative thoughts out of my mind, and continued to get to know my father as well as anyone can by email.
I filled him in as best as I could on my life and Jake’s. He had told Debbie and Rosie about me and said that I shou
ld meet them. They were in their late twenties now and were living in England. They had returned when they were around 16 to 18 years old, because they hadn’t got on well with my father’s new wife, Cynthia. Debbie had gone to university in Oxford and Rosie had gone to university in Bournemouth. Over the next couple of months I met Debbie first. She was adorable, and tiny. Debbie had a gentle heart, and we hit it off straight away; a bond was formed immediately. My first thoughts were that my daughter Lilliah had an aunty, who would also be a good role model, too. Debbie and I became close, exchanging phone numbers and talking often. I felt instantly comfortable and at ease with Debbie.
A short while later I met Rosie. She was the older of the two, very beautiful, and completely different to Debbie. She was equally lovely, but in an altogether different way. The first time we met in
Birmingham city centre; we had a lovely long lunch and confided our stories. We became friends too. The three of us met up once again in Bicester village, just outside Oxford. My husband and my daughter came along too. It was a lovely day; we shopped; we lunched; and we talked. It was so lovely finally to have family, and sisters to call my own. We had a lot in common; we all loved food, shopping and running. We had the same views on humanitarian issues and many others.
My dad’s emails were beginning to show a theme: one of arrogance, self-importance, one of me, me, and me. Over time his emails became more about him, and less about me. He seemed so wrapped up in his own life. It started to annoy me a little. He would take no responsibly for what happened to Jake and me. As far as he was concerned it was out of his hands, which was true. But my question to him was, “Did you ever try to find us?” He said he never had; he just assumed that we had our own life and if we had wanted to know our father then he felt it was up to us to find him. It was the way these words sounded when he wrote them to me; they seemed so cold.
I had written a letter to my grandparents, leaving my phone number on the bottom. Then one day, a reply came through the post. After reading my grandma’s beautiful letter, I just cried for the next few hours. I was finally going to meet them. My husband and I arranged to drive up to Lancashire to see them. It was cold, wet, and winter was upon us. I will never forget that first meeting. As we approached the bungalow, we had to stop the car so I could compose myself. I was emotional and nervous. I really wanted them to like me. I wanted to bond with them and spend as much time as possible visiting them with what little time we had left with them. They were 85-years-old, an incredible age. Finally we climbed out of the car, then walked up the drive and knocked the door. My grandma opened the door and straight away cupped my face with her tiny hands. It was a very emotional day, a day we all thought would never happen. So many years had passed by, a life time almost, over three decades. My grandma had baked a delicious cake and made us salmon and cucumber sandwiches. I completed a jigsaw puzzle for my grandparents that day too. There were so many unanswered questions for them also.
Once I had told them my full life story, my grandma was truly devastated. She told me how grandparents had no rights at all back then. She told me how she had got on her knees and begged my father not to sign his rights as a father away all those years ago. She knew they would never see us again once he did that. She knew in her heart of hearts that my mother would sever all connections with my father’s side of the family. It broke my grandmother’s heart to discover the tragic life we had led at the hands of our mother.
We talked forever that first day, then we hugged, and we took pictures. Before we left my grandma had asked my Uncle Nigel, my father’s brother, to pop over to meet us. It was truly lovely. He was a very kind and gentle-natured man and very close to my grandparents. He watched over them and was always on hand should they fall ill and be in need of his help. He was a great son to my grandparents. For many years my uncle Nigel was also out of touch with my father.
Around the same time I had found my fathe
r‒
just a couple of months previous in fac
t‒
Jake and I were once again reunited. He was now divorced and very unhappy, and wanting a complete change in his life. He was feeling very despondent about his future and hating where he was living. This was where I was finally able to uphold my promise to Jake. My house was currently empty. Joshua’s mother had left and it was now free. I had just the perfect idea. Jake could move in. Cosley was such a beautiful old coaching town in Warwickshire; it was surrounded by beautiful countryside, unlike where he was living then. This would be perfect for him. So Lucas and I went to visit him one weekend to put my idea to him. Jake could not have been more happy. I showed him pictures of my house and the old town. He just fell in love with it on sight.
It was a month later when Jake moved in; he loved living in the country. He loved the house, and all the glorious fields and rivers at the back. He said he had never felt happier in his life; accept for when his children had been born. It may have taken many years, but I finally got to fulfill my promise to Jake. I got to meet my beautiful
niece Chloe, she was bright and beautiful and just 12-years-old. I got to see her often, as Jake would bring her over to see us. Lilliah instantly adored Chloe, and Chloe just fell in love with Lilliah. They were so good together. I also had a nephew called Daniel too, a lovely quiet 15-year-old teenager. I was proud of my brother. He had done a great job along with his ex-wife on bringing up two wonderful children.
I had learned a great deal about my father: from his emails, from my Grandparents, and from one or two of my new-found siblings. It seemed that my personal judgment of him seemed to be correct. He was not a very nice man. This was confirmed a couple of months later when we were emailing each other. It was Jake’s birthday, and I truly thought he would have sent Jake a card as I had emailed him Jake’s address in
Cosley. After all, it would have been the first one Jake had ever received from his father. But nothing arrived in the post. Jake was surprised and disappointed. I emailed Dad. I said it would have been a nice gesture to have sent a birthday card to his son after all these years. If he really was happy to be found, this was not apparent in his efforts. He did not jump on a plane to come and see us; he did not make any suggestion that he would fly out in the future either. I had previously said I would fly out to see him, so he could meet his granddaughter, but I was beginning to think I would be wasting my time.
As the months went by, our emails became fewer. We drifted apart before we had even met. The truth was very apparent to me: he had his own family now, and his last remaining three children at home. He had a life in the
Philippines and had no intention of ever flying out to see me. I did not like the person I was getting to know in the emails. I did not like the things I was hearing about him. Eventually my father and I fell out; he sent me a couple of nasty emails, all because in one email I reminded him that he had eight children, not just three, and because I had said it would have been a nice gesture to have sent a birthday card to Jake. His reply to me was vicious: a personal attack on me as a person, a person he did not know at all, and his daughter that he happily signed away all those years ago. His efforts at bonding with me were truly pathetic. I finally deduced that he was not interested at all. That all the things I had heard about him must be true, because I was beginning to see it for myself.
After receiving a truly insulting letter through the post from him, I immediately deleted him from my Face book. I deleted his email address from my contact list and have never spoken with him since. He did not give me a chance. If he had been genuinely interested he would have got on a flight and at least come to meet me face to face. If only once. But he did not. He never suggested it and was never going to. I was devastated at his nasty words in the letters I received from him. It showed his true character; it showed to me that anyone capable of writing such a hurtful letter to a daughter they had abandoned over three decades before was not a person I wanted in my life, anyway.
My dreams of my daughter meeting her grandfather faded instantly. He barely asked about Lilliah. He mentioned her from time to time, but it was more out of courtesy than interest. I had already bonded with Debbie and Rosie and remain in touch with them to this day. They are lovely girls. However, if I am truly honest, I have always felt closer to Debbie. Lovely, sweet Debbie, we bonded effortlessly. We hit it off straight away. I warmed to her instantly.