Half-truths & White Lies (17 page)

I answered the door with Andrea on my hip. Mrs Albury
pushed past and closed it, looking at me accusingly. 'So
it's true what they're saying,' she fired at me. 'You have
set up house with my daughter!'

'Mrs Albury,' I said loudly for Laura's benefit.
'Welcome to my home. Laura's in the kitchen. Would
you like a coffee?' And then under my breath through
gritted teeth, 'Or perhaps you'd care to inspect the sleeping
arrangements?'

'Mum!' Laura appeared in the hallway, 'We're staying
with Pete while Tom's away.'

'And he knows about this, does he?'

'Of course.' She laughed off the comment as lightly as
possible. 'Tom didn't want me to be on my own.'

'Well, it's highly irregular, if you ask me.' She sat down
at the kitchen table and said over her shoulder in my
direction, 'I'll have that coffee now, if you don't mind.'

'Mum! I think you could show Pete a little courtesy in
his own house.' Laura sat down opposite her. 'He's not a
waiter.'

'I'm the grandmother,' Mrs Albury tapped her chest
forcibly. 'What about the courtesy that should be shown
to me? You think it's easy living round the corner from
your daughter and having every Tom, Dick and Harry
tell you that she's taken your grandchild and moved in
with that solicitor chappie as soon as her husband's out
of town for a few days? And it's not the first time, is it?
You conveniently forgot to mention that, didn't you?'

'And you wonder why?' Laura raised her voice to
match her mother's. 'Look at the way you're reacting.
The truth is, I thought you might have thought badly of
Tom for leaving me with Andrea.'

'Work is work,' Mrs Albury replied. 'Needs must. But
this is wrong. Mark my words, the whole town's talking
about it. And they can all see I'm rattling round in a big
house on my own.'

'Do you think it's easy asking your mother for help,
when she's criticized your choice of husband from the
start?'

'I'll take Andrea next door,' I said and wandered
through to the living room, ignored. This only resulted
in voices being raised further, and Andrea started to
grizzle. I set her down on the floor and distracted her
with a toy, enjoying her reaction, while keeping one ear
on the conversation next door.

'I have not! I only said that I was worried that he
would never be able to support you. And it's true. Look
me in the eye and tell me you're not worried about
money. I would have preferred you to have chosen a
man with a profession behind him, I'll admit it. Or at
least a permanent job. Am I not allowed to express a
little concern for my daughter? But I would never
criticize Tom. You've only got to listen to folk around
town to know what a good man he is. I hear he did
some work for the Stevenses last month when Bob was
out of work and he wouldn't take a penny for it. That's
the sort of man you married, Laura, so why are you
afraid of asking your own mother for help?'

I heard Laura laugh out loud.

'Well, what's that for?' her mother asked. 'I can't see
what's so funny.'

'You see!' I could imagine Laura shaking her head,
'That's your idea of an offer of help. The neighbours are
talking, Mrs Jones has told you how wonderful Tom is
and suddenly you're on his side.'

'There are no sides, Laura.' Mrs Albury was stern. 'Not
when there's a child involved.'

'We're very happy here, thank you.'

'Not too happy, I hope. Don't you put your marriage
at risk, Laura. I know your history with that man.'

'The man that you're referring to is my best friend!'

'Exactly!'

'And what is that supposed to mean?'

'You think that there's such a big difference between a
husband and a best friend? It's a much finer line
than you think. You have put yourself in a position
where you could cross that line very easily. I'm not
saying that you would do it deliberately, but mark my
words—'

'That's it!' I heard a chair scrape. 'I've heard enough.'

'I don't mean to hurt you, but I wouldn't be doing my
job as your mother if I didn't say these things. Do you
think I want to see you upset? And you should think
about how it looks, not because you care what the
neighbours think, but for Andrea's sake. It's not just you
any more. You're a mother, for goodness' sake.'

'Pete,' Laura called unnecessarily loudly, 'my mother
has to leave now. Could you bring Andrea through so
that she can say goodbye to her.'

Laura had her arms crossed in front of her and was
standing by the doorway to the kitchen, while her
mother was still seated. She stood as she saw Andrea
toddle into the hall holding my hand and smiled,
kneeling down to kiss her fine, feathery hair. 'Goodbye,
petal. Come and see your nana soon, won't you? You
take after your daddy, my love, don't you?' And she
stood to look me in the eyes, tight-lipped. 'Goodbye,
Peter. Give my regards to your parents. There's a fine
example of a marriage.' It might have sounded like a
kindness but it was a criticism. As far as I was aware,
my parents barely knew the Alburys. I heard Laura's
sharp intake of breath behind me. There was
nothing to be gained by reacting so instead I herded
Mrs Albury towards the front door as quickly as
possible.

'I'll pass on your regards,' I said.

'Tell Laura that her mother is a lonely old woman and
would like to see more of her only grandchild before
she dies.' (She hadn't reached fifty at the time but she
had aged visibly since she lost her husband.)

I watched her walk down the path and then close
the gate.

'Has she gone?' Laura called out from the kitchen,
where she was sitting with her head in her hands.

'She's gone.' I shut the front door and, turning, I
crouched down to Andrea's level and held out my arms.
'Come to your Uncle Peter,' I said to her.

Laura sighed. 'Bolt the door behind her, would you?'

I knew Laura needed space and so did I, for that
matter. 'I'm taking Andrea upstairs for her nap. I'll sit
with her for a while and read.' I waited for a reply that
did not come. Climbing the stairs slowly with Andrea's
hand in mine, I peered over the banisters to see the back
of Laura's head bent over the kitchen table.

Later she appeared looking dishevelled, and sat in the
spare chair in the nursery of what had once been my
bachelor pad. 'I'm going to have to talk it through with
Tom, but I think we're going to have to go and live
with my mother. Then we won't have to worry about
money. We can all stop fighting and Tom won't have to
give up on his dreams.'

'I know.'

'I hate all this moving.' She tried to smile. 'I have
nowhere I can call home any more. And we've been
really happy here. Andrea is so settled into her routine.'

I nodded, not without an element of pride.

'We make a good team, don't we?' she said, bringing
one hand up to my shoulder. 'I can't think of any part
of my life that would work if I didn't have you as a
friend.'

'Can I say something without causing offence?'

'Go on,' she sniffed nervously.

'Your mother is a bit of a tyrant.' I tried to make a joke
of it.

She laughed. 'She certainly speaks her mind.' But then
she became serious: 'But why, oh why, does she always
have to be right about everything? Do all mothers have
that knack?'

'Mine never says what she thinks about anything. We
get along just fine like that.'

'I'm so tired of fighting. I need things to be simple.'

We were quiet for a while.

'I used to be a rock chick once, you know,' she said to
Andrea, picking her up when she started to stir. 'Before
I was your mummy. One day, Uncle Pete will show you
his photos and you'll ask, "Who was that beautiful
lady?" And he'll say, "That was your mother when she
was very, very young. And she was, quite simply,
magnificent." '

'She still is.'

'We need to talk, love,' Lydia said, bustling past me into
the hall. I watched her waddle into the kitchen, which
she had made her own in the absence of anyone taking
a real interest in it. I had become a microwave cook. It
wasn't that I didn't know how, I just found it depressing
cooking for one. My staple was jacket potatoes, with a
little melted cheese if I was feeling adventurous.

By the time that I had entered the room, she had
taken charge and was already filling the kettle. 'I've got
news for you and a small confession to make,' she
announced with her broad back to me. It was only
when she turned around that I realized how flustered
she looked. Her hair was curled damply around her face
and her skin was red and clammy.

'Let me do that.' I reached for the tea bags. 'You look
as if you need to sit down.' When she offered no
resistance I added jokingly, 'Now I know I should be
worried.'

She responded with a little laugh and brought her
hand to her mouth as if to stifle it. There were no signs
of merriment in her eyes and she was clearly in distress.

'Lydia, what's wrong?' I asked, deeply concerned. 'The
news isn't too terrible I hope?'

She shook her head.

'Kevin's OK?'

She nodded quickly, frowning, her mouth still
clamped in place.

'And you're all right?'

Again a nod.

'Well, thank God for that.' After depositing a cup of
tea in front of her – a proper cup and saucer, the way she
liked it – I took a seat and waited for her to begin. 'You'd
better put us both out of our miseries then.'

'I never thought I'd be this nervous,' she managed,
before putting her hand back in place.

'You can't leave me in suspense now.' I put my hand
on the arm at the end of the offending hand. 'I need to
know, no matter what the answers are.'

She took a deep breath and said, 'Well, here goes. This
is hard for me so it might come out wrong. I had my own
reasons for offering to go to London for you. You see, after
my Kevin told me that he will always think of me as his
mum, I suddenly realized that I don't know anything
about where he comes from. I was that desperate for a
little one at the time. I don't even know the name that his
parents gave him. It didn't seem important before. And
there's something else you should know. My Kevin's
always believed that you're his sister.'

I laughed, having expected something far more
terrible. 'But why would he?'

'Someone might have let him think that your parents
were his birth parents.'

'Who would have done that?'

She sat, stony-faced, before explaining. 'There was a
stage in his life when he needed to know. He needed to
believe in something. After we lost my Bill, he went
through a very difficult patch. Everyone had always
let him down and here was someone else who had left
him. Except that there was no one he could blame this
time. Maybe it was my fault for uprooting him when he
already had so much change to get used to. We knew
that he had actually been born locally even though he
was pushed from pillar to post. To me, it felt like I was
bringing him home. Maybe I only thought about what
was best for me. I honestly thought that we would be all
right if we stuck together. He found it hard to settle.
When he tried to make friends, the kids at school
claimed they couldn't understand a word he said. Well,
he started to play up. I couldn't control him and the
police were involved. This is a small place and your
parents were so well known. Tom has always been Tom,
and everyone loved him. And your mother was . . . well,
she was just beautiful. If you wanted an example of a
perfect couple, they were it. I didn't mean anything by
it, but I let slip that your mother had had a child at
about the same time as he was born, which was true.
Kevin assumed I meant him.'

I listened in silence. Lydia had become one of the
people whose judgement I had come to trust the most,
but here she was telling me that she had let her adopted
son believe that some of his nearest neighbours were
family. She misread the look on my face and thought
that I was shocked that our family secret was public
knowledge.

'I'm afraid that you can't keep anything to yourself
around here. My sister told me. Everyone was so upset
that your mother lost her child. I'm sorry, love. I should
have told you, especially when you showed me them
photos, but I wasn't expecting to see your Uncle Pete in
there. That threw me. Not even the local gossips knew
about that.'

I shook my head. 'But they lost the baby. Why didn't
you explain to Kevin that he couldn't have been their
son?'

'I tried to, love, I really did!' She held my hand.
'Maybe I'm not telling this right. I made one throwaway
comment. It wasn't like we were having a big discussion
about where my Kevin had come from at the time. But
he had lost so much. He clung on to the
idea
of it, more
than anything else. He needed to believe something, so
he latched on to that. It didn't matter that it couldn't
have been true.

'Almost straight away, he became a different person.
He was the one who told me that the house had come
up for rent two doors away. He was the one who wanted
to move here. Finally, he thought he knew where he
came from and he stopped fretting about who he was.'

By now she had seen my face. My jaw was nagging as
it always did when I was tense. I found that my hands
were clenched into fists. 'I can almost understand the
rest. But why did you agree to move down the road?
Didn't you think that you were encouraging him?'

'You're angry and I don't blame you. But be angry
with me, not him. Try to understand, love. His own
parents didn't want him. He spent his first few years
with a man who was cruel, then he lost the first man
who ever showed him some love. And on top of that I
moved him all this way to a place where he knew no
one, and then had the nerve to be surprised when he
went a bit wild! Now you understand why I was so
happy when he said that I was a good mum. I'm not
really sure I have been. This was the only thing he's ever
asked me. I made sure I kept a close eye on him, but he
never would have said anything to anyone. Definitely
not to them. I'm sure that at the back of his mind, he
knew that they couldn't have been his real parents.'

I thought of all the times when Kevin had wandered
down the road to exchange a few words with my dad's
feet as they stuck out from under a car, and of the times
that my dad had defended him to my mocking grandmother.
Of the occasional nods that we had exchanged
in the street, because he would have found anything
more embarrassing. Of the way that he had blushed
when my mother had rewarded him with a smile. I
knew that Lydia was right; he wouldn't have said anything
to anyone, least of all to us. He was indulging a
private fantasy, nothing more. How could I feel
threatened when the objects of that fantasy were gone?
It was something else that had died with my parents.
Another loss for a boy who had already lost so much.

Thinking that the speech was over, I said, 'It's ironic,
really. My dad always wanted a son.'

'Yes, love,' she said dismissively.

'That's not all?' I was aghast. What more could there
be?

'Your birth certificate.' She began again softly. My eyes
followed the envelope as she retrieved it from her handbag,
placed it on the table and pulled a certificate from
it. 'Andrea, love, you're not on your own in the world
after all. Your parents are alive. And what's more, they're
no strangers. In fact, you know them very well.'

I nodded and sighed deeply as I read and confirmed
what I already knew. That I am the daughter of Faye
Albury, student, and Peter Churcher, solicitor, born in
Morden, Surrey.

'You know?' she asked, confused.

'Only just recently. It's been staring me in the face all
these years, but it's as they say: sometimes you can't see
what's right in front of your nose.'

'Well? What are going to do about it?'

I shrugged. 'I don't know if I'll do anything.'

'But you must!'

'Lydia, the only parents that I have ever known are
gone. For whatever reason – and I'm sure that there
must have been a good one – my real parents either
didn't want me or couldn't look after me. My parents
chose not to tell me. And bearing in mind who my real
parents are, I can see how awkward that would have
been. And very confusing for me too. At least one of
them knows exactly who I am and where I am, and
hasn't told me even now.' It was more difficult to admit
this – and everything that it meant – than I had
imagined. Isn't the mother-and-daughter bond
supposed to be the closest bond there is? Thinking
things and saying them out loud are not the same.
Suddenly, it was all too real. I was another lost soul,
searching for something to latch on to.

'Oh, you poor lamb.' Lydia cradled me with a heavy
arm.

'I've never been that close to Aunty Faye.' I sniffed.
'She always kept her distance. She's very entertaining in
small doses and she was a really exciting person to have
as an aunt. But she was never exactly what you would
call reliable. There's no doubt she would have made a
terrible mother.' I tried to smile despite the tears.

'But your Uncle Pete? He's been like a second father
to you. He loves the bones of you.'

'I don't think he knows for sure. There are moments
when I'm sure he suspects something, but suspecting
and being sure enough to risk confronting my aunt?' I
sighed. 'They're two completely different things.'

'I think you're right, love.'

'It's not for me to tell him.'

'He might need to hear it more than you think. He's
all alone in the world too.'

I shook my head. 'I still need time to get my head
around it. For now it's enough that I know.'

'Then it's best I leave you to your thoughts,' Lydia
said.

'What did you decide about Kevin's birth certificate in
the end?' I called to her as she was putting her coat on
in the hall.

She appeared at the kitchen door again. 'Do you
know, after all that, I decided to leave it exactly where it
is for now. I would feel terrible going behind his back.
I'm no good with secrets, me. I wouldn't be able to keep
it to myself if there was something I thought he should
know.'

'Maybe he'll want to open it now that my parents
have gone,' I suggested.

She shrugged. 'Maybe.'

Alone again, I took down the family tree from its
place in the hall and stared at it for some time. Then I
took it out of its frame and crossed out my own name
from the place where it had appeared under my parents'
with heavy black lines. Unable to work out how to
redraw it, that is how I left it. Our very average, straightforward
family had been wiped out. I was not unhappy
with the end result. It reflected exactly how I felt. I no
longer knew who I was or where I had come from. I was
completely lost.