The Bad Mother (18 page)

But Roy accepted her answer. ‘I want to know where your talents lie,’ he went on. ‘Music? Art? Science?’

The swift change of subject made Tessa think that perhaps her praise of Hugo had pained him. ‘Art, I guess. Well, interior decoration.’

He nodded. ‘You wrote that you love designing rooms. Ever think of being an architect?’

‘No, never occurred to me.’

‘Pity we didn’t meet earlier. I would’ve encouraged you. I bet you’d be good at anything you set your sights on.’

Tessa felt bathed by the warmth of his smile. ‘Not so sure about that.’

‘You should be! You mustn’t let people value you at less than you’re worth. The last few weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about what it must have been like for you, growing up not knowing your real father, uncertain who you are. No matter how good and kind the people were who brought you up, I can’t help feeling it’s left you at some kind of spiritual disadvantage.’

Gratified that he had given her such thought, Tessa
chose not to examine why she failed to correct his assumption that she had always known she was adopted.

‘Seem wrong to you, a man like me talking about spirituality?’

‘No, of course not!’

‘Prisons are surprisingly spiritual places, you know. People inside are on a journey, whether they want to acknowledge it or not. Though many do. And naturally,’ Roy spread his hands and gave an ironic shrug, ‘we have plenty of time for reflection. That’s pretty rare on the outside.’

‘True.’

‘So now you’ve found me, maybe I can make good any gaps left by your adoption. I’d like to think that fate has brought us together for a purpose, to help you be everything you want to be.’

Tessa felt suddenly shy, unsure how to deal with his regard, how to value his belief in her.

‘I’d like to get you a birthday present,’ he declared. ‘What would you like?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll have to think.’

‘What about something to wear?’

‘Maybe a scarf?’

‘Or some jewellery?’

‘That’s too much!’

‘Why? Am I not allowed to spoil you?’

‘Well, I wear a lot of earrings. Always nice to have a different pair.’

‘You have such delicate wrists. How about a bracelet?’

‘I’ve never really worn bracelets.’

‘Which do you prefer, silver or gold?’

‘You can’t start buying me expensive jewellery!’

‘I’d like to.’

‘But …’

He sat back, laughing. ‘It’s my freedom they took away, not my money. I still own a house, and the rent just piles up.’

‘All the same …’

‘A gold bracelet then. I’ll have it sent to you.’

‘Thank you. That’s really kind.’

‘Wear it next time you come.’

‘I will.’ She glowed with pleasure. ‘Shall I fetch some tea?’ she offered, embarrassed that she could do so little in return. ‘Cake with cherries?’

‘Why not? Thanks.’

‘I could get you a few extra pieces, if you like. To eat later?’

His expression changed, became resigned and guarded. ‘I’m not allowed.’ He hesitated, and then leant forward. ‘See the door over there? Once we’re on the other side, we’re strip-searched. Given a full body search.’

Tessa felt his scrutiny, felt he was testing her reaction. She tried to be as matter-of-fact as possible. ‘For drugs?’

‘And weapons.’ He sat back, more relaxed. ‘But I’d love a slice now, thank you.’

As Tessa waited at the counter for the nice WRVS lady to pour the tea, she felt that Roy’s acceptance of her offer of cake had somehow been intended as a reward for her
tact. She somewhat resented the feeling: why was it her problem if he was in prison? Reminding herself that she shouldn’t let herself get too carried away, she returned to their numbered table with the tea tray.

It was as though, while he waited for her, he’d read her mind. ‘My turn to tell you a bit more about myself,’ he said. ‘Can you bear to hear about the tragedy that brought me here?’

‘Of course.’ Tessa sat down, passing over his tea and pre-packaged slab of cake. She had been ravenously hungry after the last visit so had bought herself some chocolate, but it felt somehow inappropriate to busy herself with it when he was about to discuss such a weighty matter.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Roy lined up the cake in the centre of the plate, and began: ‘Angie and I had been together more than ten years. Her family never accepted me, never liked the fact that Angie lived a different sort of life with me. They were decent people, don’t get me wrong, but narrow, fearful of anything unconventional. Not surprising that she suffered from depression. I blame myself for what happened. We’d had money problems after I quit a job that was stifling me, and she moved back home for a bit while I sorted things out. But then she slid downhill, got worse and worse. Maybe it went deeper than depression, I don’t know. I tried to help, to get her back to her old self. Told her I’d found a new job, got a nice flat ready for us, with a garden, just like she wanted. But …’ Roy broke off, shaking his head, lost in memory.

‘Your tea’s getting cold,’ Tessa prompted him gently.

Roy took a sip, and got as far as unwrapping his slice of cake and folding up the cellophane neatly before he continued. ‘The worse thing is, I can’t remember what happened,’ he said. ‘I’ve been told that’s quite common, to do with post-traumatic shock. I’ve never raised a hand in anger to anyone in my life, especially not to Angie. She was the love of my life. I wouldn’t have hurt a hair on her head. But that day, she got upset and just lost it. It was in the doctor’s report that I had scratches on my face where she tried to claw at me, though I don’t remember that happening. You have to realise how ill she was. It would never have ended the way it did otherwise. That wasn’t the real Angie. It wasn’t her fault.’

Tessa sat motionless, with no idea what to say. She had expected a tale of hatred, jealousy or anger, not this declaration of love and regret.

‘So sad,’ he went on at last. ‘A waste of two lives, that’s what my barrister said. No one could believe the police charged me with murder rather than manslaughter, but there you go.’

‘Thank you for telling me.’ Tessa wanted to know exactly how Angie had died, but didn’t know how to ask.

‘I’m sorry to burden you with it,’ he said.

‘Don’t be.’

‘Nothing will bring Angie back, and I have to live with that. But I’d like you to try and understand.’

Tessa dared to sip at her tea. ‘I’ll try.’ Again she tried to formulate some pattern of words to ask what he had
not yet told her. ‘So you were defending yourself?’ she asked. ‘When it happened?’

He sat back, regarding her thoughtfully. ‘You deserve better.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘No one wants a father who once made a fatal mistake.’ He paused to make a minute adjustment to the position of his mug in relation to his plate. ‘I lost control. That was the end of Angie’s life. The cause was strangulation.’ He looked directly at her, a hint of challenge in his eyes. ‘That’s what you wanted to know, wasn’t it?’

Tessa took a sharp breath. ‘Yes. It helps to understand. Not to imagine—’

‘To imagine something worse?’

She nodded miserably, and he reached out to touch her hand. When she looked up his expression was entirely sympathetic. ‘What stopped me giving up,’ he said, ‘was how it was Angie’s despair that had led to all this. If she’d only been stronger, or her parents had woken up sooner to how ill she’d become …’ He broke off with a sigh. ‘But who knows?’ He smiled wryly. ‘Maybe some good will finally come of it. Maybe you and I can help one another.’

Tessa nodded, unaware that she had appealed to him for help.

‘I can’t tell you the difference it makes finding I have a daughter, someone to live for.’

Tessa watched as Roy finally broke off a piece of his
cake and held it up. ‘The celebratory feast!’ he said. ‘Cherries will always be lucky for me from now on.’

‘Good, I’m glad.’ Her heart went out to him, admiring his courage in volunteering the truth.

Roy watched her as he ate. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I realise I can’t ever be a big part of your life. That’s as it should be. But I want you to know that on my side, my feelings aren’t because I’m stuck in here with nothing else to think about. They’re far more than that, I promise. But I don’t expect you to feel the same.’

‘I’m still getting my head around it,’ Tessa explained, not wanting to hurt him. ‘Part of me does feel like this is huge. Of course it is, finding my father. But I haven’t managed to make much sense of it yet.’

‘Not quite the father you’d been dreaming of all these years!’

Again, Tessa failed to point out that she’d never been given any reason to dream of an absent father, avoided telling him how recent her discovery was, and avoided questioning her own reluctance to confide in him. She looked up and found Roy observing her in amusement. He burst out laughing.

‘You’re so like me! I can tell exactly what you’re thinking. No one’s going to pull the wool over your eyes, that’s for sure. Bravo for making up your own mind!’

Tessa blushed in embarrassment that he had sensed her caution.

‘I’m not laughing at you,’ he assured her. ‘I’m glad you
think for yourself. Much better that you take your time about trusting me. I prefer it, frankly.’

Tessa laughed in relief.

‘I’ve seen women come in here,’ he went on more seriously. ‘They write to the men, talk about love, some even get married. But it’s all a game, and when the men come up for release, out come the divorce papers.’

‘That’s so mean.’

‘Yes, cruel. So if you’d kicked off by being all lovey-dovey over a convicted killer you’d only just met, believe me, I’d’ve been high-tailing it out that door over there.’

Tessa was touched by Roy’s implicit acknowledgement of his vulnerability. ‘Even so, I was aware of our connection straight away,’ she assured him. ‘Weren’t you? Even though we
had
never met.’

He nodded in turn. ‘But we’ll still take our time and get to know one another. Deal?’

He held out his hand, and she took it gladly.

‘Deal.’ As she started to withdraw her hand, he clasped it tighter.

‘People won’t like us being friends. You must realise that?’

‘So what? It’s between us.’

‘Am I a secret?’

‘No.’ She hesitated, all too aware of the grip of his fingers. ‘Private.’ Out of the corner of her eye, Tessa saw the red-haired officer start forward, as if about to order them apart.

Roy caught the movement too.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘She’s just jealous.’ He strengthened his grasp on Tessa’s hand. ‘So no secrets between us?’

‘No.’

‘Good.’ Satisfied, he let go of her, then turned and looked levelly at the female officer who, Tessa saw with surprise, quickly twisted her head away as if rebuked.

TWENTY-SIX

The row of multicoloured beach huts stood in the lee of the sea wall like jars in an old-fashioned sweetshop. Pamela unlocked the candyfloss-pink door and stood back to allow Hugo to carry in the five-litre bottle of water. It was Tessa’s birthday and although Mitch and Lauren no longer saw a picnic tea as a special treat, Pamela had decided to revive a tradition from when they were little and ask her old friends if they would once again let her use their hut for the afternoon.

It was half-term and most of the huts were in use. Their occupants sat on the narrow porches surveying the activities on the beach below with a king-of-the-castle air of superiority. As Hugo set out the pair of painted Lloyd Loom chairs, Pamela took her home-made chocolate cake out of its tin and carefully inserted half a dozen pink-and-white striped candles, a random number but sufficient for the blowing out to be fun. She checked the little bottled gas burner and then went to the open doorway. It was a beautiful day and she was both excited and apprehensive.
This would be the first time she could celebrate Tessa’s birthday spontaneously, without any fear of being caught out by tricky questions that might threaten to pull down their house of cards.

Hugo came to stand beside her. His look of surprise as she linked her arm in his saddened her: she knew how seldom she initiated such gestures of affection, and even now long-ingrained habit prevented her from speaking. So many of her conversations with her husband had gone on privately inside her head.
Do you remember
, she silently asked him now,
when we first laid eyes on Tessa?
Erin had not wanted any of her family with her in the delivery room, but the midwife had brought out the little bundle wrapped in a hospital shawl and told them the baby was a girl. She and Hugo had looked into those serious, intently staring eyes and then at one another, too happy to speak. And that, Pamela silently reminded him, was always the moment they’d describe to Tessa when she’d asked, as all young children do, about her birth. It was not a lie, but what could never be said was their acute awareness of Erin, little more than a child herself, lying weeping and exhausted a few yards away. Pamela had gone in to her sister, confused about whether or not to hide her joy, wanting to thank her, uncertain what to say, the beginning of a lifetime of not being able to speak.

But now, she thought, briefly touching her head to Hugo’s shoulder, they could all begin to talk. Now she might be able to tell Tessa how much she loved her and had wanted her, how sorry she was that those things could
not be said before. Today, for the very first time, Erin’s role could be acknowledged as part of the birthday celebrations.

‘Let’s get the kettle on,’ she said to Hugo. ‘It always takes so long to boil.’ Pamela disengaged her arm and went inside, leaving him standing there alone.

A moment later she heard voices as Hugo attempted to sing a welcoming ‘Happy Birthday’ and Tessa laughingly tried to shush him. Pamela went to the door and waited to greet her daughter, the glittering sea hard against her eyes. Hugo had unfolded an extra picnic chair, and once the women had hugged one another in their customary undemonstrative way they sat in a row, with Tessa in the middle.

Pamela was pleased that when Tessa unwrapped the gift box she seemed to like the agate earrings she’d chosen for her.