Motherlove (38 page)

Heather looked away, out over the lake. ‘Try to remember, Ben said, when he came back to me. So I kept coming here, hoping that one day it would happen, I would trigger some memory I must have blocked out. Whatever it was I'd done, if I could just remember…'

‘Mum.' Ben was crying, tears on his cheeks. ‘I should have believed you.'

‘Someone should have.' Heather shot a look of accusation at Martin, then a smile of consolation at her son.

Finally, she turned once more to Kelly, looking deep into her eyes. ‘Yes. You are Abigail. I have missed so much. It should have been mine – your whole life. I've missed it.' At last the sobs broke loose.

Kelly's instinct was to hug her. But Roz needed hugging too. Roz had stood by, taking their abuse. She deserved it maybe, but she was trying to do the right thing now. Which mother was Kelly to turn to and comfort? And Ben. It was Ben that Kelly wanted to hug more than anyone. Ben her lover. But never again.

‘We'll have to see if we can fill in the pieces,' she said.

First they had to pick them up. No one seemed to be sure how to do it.

‘Will you come back to Mum's place?' suggested Ben.

‘Sure.' Go back to a house and resolutely play happy families with bright fake smiles. She would have to do it, but not yet. ‘First I'm going with Mum…with Roz. To the police station. That first.'

iii

Vicky

The curling wave of the downs was scarred with white streaks in the dry grass where the chalk etched through, with, here and there, a scattering of stunted thorn bushes. From the foot of the escarpment, a panorama of home counties countryside rolled out to a distant haze. Behind, on the dip slope, the lush green of beech woods. Up in the sky, three hi-tec kites fought for supremacy.

‘We used to come here and fly kites, didn't we,' said Vicky. ‘I'd forgotten. Dad made me one.'

‘And I painted a face on it,' Gillian reminded her. ‘A cat.'

‘It was a tiger, I thought.'

‘It was supposed to be a tabby cat.'

‘All right. And we'd always have an ice cream from the van by the car park.'

‘The van's still there. Shall we…' Gillian hesitated. ‘I suppose you shouldn't really eat ice creams.'

‘What the hell,' said Vicky. ‘I can manage one.'

It was all slightly artificial still, this fellowship, but they were working at it. Arm in arm, they walked back along the downs to the ice cream van, dodging frisbees and small children rolling down the hill. Then they walked on, licking their cones.

‘It's such a terrible story, baby snatching, the whole thing.' Gillian shaded her eyes to focus on a distant church tower. ‘So much hurt. And you've met all of them.'

‘Sort of. I talked to Heather. I tried to help. Think I got through to her.'

‘And your real mother too.'

‘Rosalind gave birth to me. That's not what being a mother is. That's what Joan did, give birth to you.'

‘Yes, you're right. That's not being a mother. Did you sort things out with Rosalind too?'

‘Not really. I was too angry, too eager to blame her. I shouted at her. She cried.'

‘Did she explain why she'd left you?'

‘She was very young. Just a child who couldn't cope.'

‘I thought it would be that. And I was so old. I used to worry that it would matter, me standing with the grannies at the school gates, instead of with the young mums. It was never that I should have been worrying about, was it?' Gillian stared up at the sky, her fist clenching. ‘Why couldn't I see?'

‘Because you were Joan's victim too. Another little project.' Vicky contemplated her ice cream. ‘I can't believe it never occurred to me. Of course she'd done the same thing to you. You got over it. I'm over it too. Or I will be. I'm going to be a doctor, sort out other people, heal their pain. Got to start with myself, haven't I?'

Gillian hugged her, ice cream smearing her cheek. ‘I was so selfish, bringing you into that house.'

‘No! No, believe me, you did me a favour. If it hadn't all happened, I'd be living in a shack down a muddy lane, with a tattoo and a nose stud.'

‘And instead you had Joan.'

‘We all had Joan. And now we don't.'

‘Is it too vindictive, getting Dad to change the locks?'

‘I don't see there's anything wrong with a little vindictiveness.'

Gillian squeezed her daughter. A new relationship, one she still had to learn, but it was wholesome. The poison had been sucked out. ‘And he was delighted to do it, wasn't he? I can't remember your father looking that ferocious and determined.'

‘Dad the warrior.' Vicky smiled. ‘Come on, let's go home and see how he's getting on. Give him some moral support.'

They turned back towards the lime green Mini. ‘Are you going to see any of them again, do you think?' asked Gillian.

Vicky thought about it. ‘I suppose. Some time.'

iv

Early morning in Portland Park, the sun sparkling on the lake, dew on the grass, a few ducks still with their heads tucked under.

It was the best time of day, Kelly always thought. Everything fresh, nothing smudged yet.

It would be smudged soon enough.

She leaned on the railings, watching the breeze whip up a scurry of ripples on the opaque surface of the lake.

‘Hello.'

‘Hi,' Kelly responded, without thinking, before she'd had time to look at the solitary walker. Then she recognised the girl. ‘Oh.'

‘Do you mind?'

Did she mind what? The girl being there in the park with her? In the world with her? Or in her life, shattering it apart. ‘No.' There were yards of vacant railing, but Kelly shifted along as if to make room for her.

Vicky came forward, touching the rail, running her fingers along it. ‘I thought you might be here. I almost caught you yesterday, but you were just leaving. I thought you must be an early bird.'

‘A bird who's not sleeping, at any rate.'

‘Yes. Of course. It's all…' She shrugged. ‘Sorry about the way I behaved at your house.'

‘You were upset,' said Kelly. ‘Of course you were. I didn't understand then. I didn't know the full story. It must have hurt so much.'

Vicky's eyes were fixed on the surface of the lake. ‘I wanted it to hurt.'

‘To hurt Mum, you mean.'

‘No, to hurt me.' Vicky shook her head, clearing it. ‘It's complicated. Never mind that. Did you honestly know nothing? You didn't even suspect?'

‘No. Why would I?'

‘Never thought you didn't really belong?'

‘Is that how it was for you?'

‘Yes. Not now.'

‘Will you ever be able to forgive her, do you think?'

‘I expect so. What's the point in not? Will you?'

‘Oh yes. But it's not for me to forgive, is it? I didn't lose anything by it – at least I didn't know I had.'

‘Your parents. Your brother.'

‘Yes. My brother.' Kelly cleared her throat. ‘I didn't know I had a brother to lose. But it turns out I did, and I lost him then, and now I've lost him again in a different way. Not sure about my parents. Heather – she told me you met her, gave her the whole story. Convinced her I wasn't just an impostor.'

‘Yes, well, she's met plenty who were, I think. Me included. So the whole family is reunited at last.'

‘Not really.' Kelly gave a hollow laugh. ‘We're jointly occupying Lyford, you might say. Mum and me at a guest-house, Mr. Nor— my father at the Linley, my brother and my – other mother at her house. And you. Do you live here too?'

‘Yes. With my mum and dad. Just the three of us. No one else. What's going to happen, do you know? About your – my – our mother.'

Kelly shook her head. ‘She went to the police, and fessed up. They're still trying to decide whether they should be bringing charges. Heather said no. Brave, don't you think? Maybe that will count for something. It seems so pointless now, making a big legal thing of it. There are far more important things to deal with.'

‘Like getting to know your lost family.'

‘Yes. A week ago I thought I was Kelly Sheldon, in love with this lovely guy, and now I'm supposed to be Abigail Norris, with a mother I don't know how to talk to, and a father who can't decide if I'm a devil or an angel, and the lovely guy I was in love with turns out to be my brother, who has trouble even looking at me now.'

Vicky winced. ‘I was thinking of us on interconnected roads. Now it's as if, at one of those random junctions, there was an almighty car crash. I am so sorry.'

‘Yes, a crash, all right. Would it have been better or worse, do you think, if we'd never found out?'

‘Worse for me. Worse for Mrs Parish. But better for you. That is sad. I am sorry. What are you going to do? Stay here? Go back to Wales?'

‘Attempt both, I suppose. Try to build bridges. Stick by Roz, at least until we know what happens next. I've got a friend, a family friend, Roger. I phoned him yesterday, told him all about it. He's coming over from Dorset. Quite comforting, actually, to think of someone coming to take control.'

‘Yes.'

‘He says I should think about university. A means of getting away, starting afresh on my own. Finding my feet as Kelly Sheldon, no one's daughter or – sister. Just me. It makes sense, I suppose. If I can find a university near a prison.'

‘I'm sure she won't go to prison. Not now.'

They were silent. A duck came swimming towards them. Followed by ducklings, hurrying to keep up with their dam. Captured in their mother's wake.

‘I wouldn't be able to give her a kidney, you know,' said Vicky.

‘No. I realised that.'

‘I really am sorry there's no simple happy ending for you.'

‘I don't think there are any endings, happy or unhappy. We just move on. On our diverging roads.'

‘Yes.' Silence again.

‘Well. Keep in touch, do you think?'

‘Yes. Why not.'

They parted, two girls, walking in different directions. On the lake, behind them, the ducks paddled aimlessly. Ripples circled out around them, meshing, separating, out and out and on and on forever.