Another Mother: a gripping psychological family drama Read online

  ‘Extra bacon?’

  ‘Yes. Extra bacon.’

  ‘What do we want extra bacon for?’

  ‘To eat,’ I say, and hide a smile. I see a flash of anger behind his eyes and watch a movement in his cheek as he clenches his jaw.

  ‘I realise that,’ he snaps. ‘But who do we need extra bacon for at the weekend?’

  ‘Oh, I thought you knew. We’ve had to accommodate six cancellations at the last moment due to a death in the family at Golden Sands Guest House.’

  ‘No, it’s the first I’ve heard.’

  I know it’s the first he’s heard, because Rosie only took the call just before I left for lunch. The owner’s sister died unexpectedly this morning and he was grief stricken, couldn’t cope, so he asked if we had room for his weekend guests. I had gone to the butcher on the way to the beach, so I’d told Alan a half truth. I was late for no reason in particular. ‘Right, well, if there’s nothing else I have to get on with cleaning the rooms.’

  ‘Who’s died then?’

  ‘Ask Nadine. I really must get going,’ I say over my shoulder as the double doors swing closed behind me. It’s unlikely Nadine will know. Alan was stuck on reception. This means that his wife probably sneaked off before the phone call for a facial, or to the hairdresser, and left him in the lurch. I laugh to myself as I collect clean linen from the airing cupboard, thinking of Alan’s bemused expression when he asked about the bacon. This place really is run by Rosie and, to an extent, me, nowadays.

  ‘Laughing on the job, young lady? That will never do!’ Rosie says close behind me.

  ‘God, you nearly made me drop all these towels!’ I turn and shove them into her arms. ‘Here, make yourself useful and carry these up to room fifteen while I get the sheets.’

  ‘Bossing me about already and you’ve only been on the job for a fortnight. Okay, I’ll help you, because as it happens I’m on top of all my jobs, unlike some latecomers.’

  ‘Don’t you start! I’ve just had Alan the Vulture have a go.’

  ‘Alan the Vulture?’

  ‘Yes. That’s what I was laughing at … well, about bacon actually.’ I glance at her puzzled expression as I unlock the door to number fifteen.

  ‘You been at the gin?’ Rosie giggles and follows me inside.

  Half an hour later the room is transformed. Sour sweat, and other more unmentionable aromas have been removed with gloved hands from bathroom and bed. Also removed as a result of my explanation was the puzzled expression from the face of my co-worker. ‘I wish you hadn’t told me you call him Alan the Vulture. I won’t be able to look him in the beak now without seeing one.’ Rosie laughs and sits on the side of the bath.

  I laugh too and perch on the loo. ‘We’ll have to think of one for Nadine.’

  ‘Oh, I already have one – Madame Pompadour, or just the Pomp sometimes.’

  ‘Because of her hair?’

  ‘Yes!’

  Laughter grips us both for a few seconds and I have to take a few deep breaths to stop myself getting hysterical. ‘Okay, change of subject.’ I force a sober expression and look at Rosie who’s fanning her face and dabbing at tears of laughter on her cheeks.

  ‘Good, because I might pee myself if we carry on and you’re on the toilet!’

  ‘Stop!’ I say through the laughter bubbling in my throat. ‘I need you to be serious for a minute. Though you do look less like a cold sprout when you’re laughing.’

  ‘A cold sprout! How rude. Same goes for you though. Your face lights up when you smile … Truth be told I was thinking of asking for your hand in marriage.’

  ‘Rosie, hush now!’ I had an odd feeling in my belly when she said that, and I feel heat rise up my neck. What the hell’s wrong with me?

  ‘Righty-ho.’ Rosie swallows and folds her arms. ‘What is it?’

  I draw a breath and concentrate. ‘Well, as you know, I’ve been having trouble finding a decent place to live and I can’t keep forking out to stay here.’

  ‘You want to stay at mine?’

  Oh dear. Her face is shining with delight. What now? ‘Um. No, though thanks for offering again. No, I was wondering about staying with Mellyn.’

  Rosie shrugs and purses her lips as if in thought, but I have a good idea that she’s trying to hide her disappointment. ‘It’s up to you, but I thought you said that might not be such a good idea? How is she with you now? I don’t like to pry.’

  I have told her bits about Mellyn’s mood swings, but not the detail. ‘Much better now. We’re growing really close and I’m feeling like we’re working towards the wonderful mother–daughter relationship I always dreamed we’d have. I’m even ready to call her Mum … I think.’

  ‘I think you’ve answered your own question there then, Lu.’ Rosie stands and puts the cleaning products into a bucket.

  ‘Yes, I think I have. I just don’t want to move in together to jeopardise what we already have … you know, living in each other’s pockets?’

  ‘But you see each other loads anyway, and you’re both out at work all day otherwise. Give it a chance. You could tell her it’s temporary … like a trial?’

  ‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’

  ‘Because you’re just not brainy like me, obvious really.’ Rosie gives me a friendly push and walks out of the bathroom.

  ‘Thanks, Rosie. Running it past you really helped.’ I follow her and scoop up the bag of dirty linen. ‘And you know what? I reckon if we did the rooms together like this, we’d finish much quicker.’

  ‘When we can, yes. But today I would have been on reception if the Pomp hadn’t done a runner before Alan the Vulture had a chance to!’

  That sets us both off again, and after she leaves I have to check my mascara in the mirror before going out into the corridor.

  Honeysuckle fronds frame the fading sunset and beyond it hangs the crescent of the moon; an ethereal pendant on a chain of stars. The light breeze brings with it the heady sent of honeysuckle and ocean, and from my position on the garden recliner, my imagination makes pictures from the wisps of high dark cloud. Replete after another wonderful meal cooked by Mellyn, a tickle of excitement rises in my chest at the thought of springing the Seal Cottage moving-in surprise. She’s inside making coffee and I listen to her pure clear voice drifting through the open kitchen window. I can’t be certain what the song’s called, but it’s the old one about being amongst the leaves so green-o.

  ‘You have a lovely voice, Mel.’ I put the recliner into a sitting position and take a coffee mug from the tray in her hands.

  ‘Oh, thank you. I sing when I’m happy.’ She smiles at me and depresses the plunger on the cafetière. ‘Before you came back into my life there wasn’t much to sing about.’

  ‘That’s a lovely thing to say.’ I think about that and laugh. ‘I didn’t mean to say that it was lovely that you were unhappy before I came!’

  ‘I know that!’ Mellyn laughs too and then from her jeans pocket she pulls out an envelope, a very old and yellowing envelope, and puts it on the table between us. ‘Have a look in there,’ she says, her eyes shining.

  Lifting the flap, I take out two much-handled photos, one dog eared, and place them next to each other on top of the envelope. A smile grows in my heart as I realise that both are of me as a baby. One is me as a newborn in a white knitted outfit and hat, asleep in a cradle, and one’s me about two months old, wearing green dungarees and propped up on a cushion. I know the baby is me, because in each photo is Bluey Bear. Bluey is the bear I’ve had forever. He’s the bear that after Dad had told me who had given him to me, was shoved in a box and put in the attic. ‘It’s me,’ I say in a small voice.

  ‘It is.’ Mellyn picks up the newborn one and traces her finger across it. ‘This was taken the day before they took you …’ She stops and swallows some coffee. ‘The other is the one your parents sent me to let me know how you were doing. Did they tell you the bear was from me?’

  An image of me aged seven kicking the bea
r at the wall and stuffing him in a box comes back as if it were yesterday, along with the feeling of betrayal and disbelief. It was the day of the adoption revelation and Bluey took the brunt of my fury. I look at Mellyn’s hopeful face and swallow. ‘Yes, they did. I always treasured Bluey. I put him in the attic when I grew up, but he’s safe.’ I wonder if a half truth will result in the moon falling from the sky and squashing my lying little head flat.

  ‘Joe … your dad picked it. He said it would protect you, when we …’ Mellyn blew out a long breath through her mouth and composed herself. ‘When we couldn’t.’

  My eyes fill, so I blink and look to the heavens. The moon doesn’t look like it’s about to fall, but it should have. What a stupid little idiot I’d been back then. I had two sets of parents who loved me. I watch a moth alight on the highest honeysuckle flower and try to calm my breathing. This is no good. I realise that I need to clear my mind of guilt and blame. After all, I was only seven at the time and terribly hurt. That little girl grew up to be me and I need to show her some love in order to be able to move forward.

  ‘I hope you aren’t too upset, love,’ Mellyn says, and I feel her warm hand cover mine. ‘I know we have been parted most of our lives, but I wanted you to see that me and your dad always loved you.’

  I lower my gaze from the stars and nod. ‘I know. I just wish things could have been different for all of us.’ She sighs and nods too. I drink some of my coffee and when I’m sure my voice is strong enough I say, ‘I have a surprise for you.’

  ‘You do?’ she asks, her head to one side, a half smile forming on her lips.

  ‘I do. How would you feel about having me live here on a trial basis?’

  Her smile grows wide and lights up her eyes with joy. ‘Oh, that’s fantastic! But why a trial?’

  ‘Because we should see if living together is a good idea. I don’t want to jeopardise this lovely relationship we have at the moment in any way. I don’t think it will, but we need to be sure. Also, I want to be straight with you from the off. Honesty is so important if we’re going to move forward.’

  ‘Oh, Lu. What a very wise young woman you are.’ Mellyn leans and kisses me on both cheeks. ‘I’m overjoyed with your decision and so proud that you can speak your mind so eloquently.’ She sits back, rests her chin on interlinked fingers and looks at me, respect in her eyes.

  I’m proud of me too. I had no clue how to phrase the trial basis thing, but it just came out naturally. Of course, the worry of it triggering a meltdown for Mellyn had been there like a shadow in the wings, but I just stuck to my guns and said it. Before I quit my job, Mum dying, and then finding Mellyn, I would have become tongue-tied, flustered, and pulled my horns in. So much had changed in such a short time, both bad and good, and it had taken me along with it. I had changed for the good, and it would be for good. There was no going back now. It’s the right time for something else too. I smile at Mellyn and say, ‘Thanks for saying you’re proud of me. It means a lot … Mum.’

  Predictably, the much-longed-for title of ‘Mum’ reduces Mellyn to a blubbering wreck and it’s a long time before I can get any sense out of her. I will still call her Mellyn in my mind, but she deserves Mum now. She promises that she will do everything in her power to make me happy and that she’ll behave herself perfectly for the rest of her life. We laugh at that.

  Later, after Mellyn and I have celebrated with a bit too much brandy, we chat in her doorway just before I’m ready to leave for the hotel for the last time. Then I suddenly remember something. ‘Oh, I saw Jack from the Crab Shack today in the market. He waved but we didn’t speak. You never did tell me why your meals are free when you go there.’ As soon as I’d asked I wish I hadn’t. The lovely evening and the brandy made my tongue loose and a wicked glint in Mellyn’s eye confirms my mistake.

  ‘I slept with him for a few months,’ Mellyn says, a giggle in her throat. ‘We got on really well. He isn’t an oil painting to look at, but he’s a good laugh.’ Her eyes harden to grey chips. ‘And then he went all sanctimonious on me and said we had to stop as he loved his wife too much to hurt her. Said he thought I was getting too serious.’ Mellyn throws her arms up so violently that all her bangles smash into each other. ‘Me, too serious! He was the one with the armfuls of flowers and chocolates sneaking round here under the cover of darkness like some randy hound dog!’

  A landing light comes on in the house across the way and I notice a shape slip past the curtain. ‘Mum, shh. I think someone over there is snooping,’ I whisper.

  ‘Oh, that’ll be the nosy old crone Freda. She’s always getting off on other’s gossip.’ Mellyn doesn’t lower her voice.

  ‘Right, thanks for another lovely evening. I’ll be off. I have to be up at six thirty.’ I kiss her on the cheek and make to leave, but she catches hold of my elbow.

  ‘I haven’t finished telling you my story.’ This time she has the grace to whisper. ‘So, I told him that if he didn’t want the love of his life to know what we had been doing every Tuesday and Thursday in my bed, in graphic detail, I would dine out for free whenever I saw fit.’ She draws herself up to her full height, sticks out her chin, defiance in her eyes and the pride in her voice large in the still night air.

  I don’t want to look her in the eye again. How I wish she’d kept this particularly sordid little skeleton locked away in its cupboard. Does she hope I’d condone her crowing over blackmail like that? I feel the air prickle with static and the silence shifts from expectant to uncomfortable. I pretend to brush something off my trousers and say, ‘I see. No wonder he looked furious that night when there were two of us to feed.’ And then before she has time to say anything else I give her a quick hug and set off down the street. ‘See you tomorrow. I’ll give you a call!’

  Mellyn’s voice follows me. ‘I can tell you think I’m in the wrong, but he bloody deserved it!’

  I picture every landing light in the street flicking on in synchronicity and turn back, putting a finger to my lips. ‘Shh! Look, it’s none of my business, we’ll talk tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, okay. You’ll understand when I give you more of the background. As you know, I’ve been used and abused by men before and this one was going to sodding pay …’ Her voice comes after me, low and menacing, ‘Just like Neil did.’ Then she tosses her head and gives a bark of what’s supposed to be laughter, but to my ears sounds like a release of anger. A cold finger traces the length of my spine even as I wave and hurry away. What the hell did she mean by that – just like Neil did?

  Later, I assess the evening as I lie in bed in my hotel room. Even though Mellyn was on the edge at the very end, up to then she had shown a huge improvement. There’s a warm feeling in my heart when I think of her expression after I’d called her Mum for the first time. I hate the sordid little game of blackmail she’s playing with Jack, and that thing she said about Neil … did she mean he got his comeuppance because he fell to his death? I suppose she must have. I remember that she’d said he got what he deserved the night at the restaurant too. That whole thing made me feel uncomfortable, but then it was probably just a coping mechanism. Of course, it isn’t nice to gloat over someone’s untimely death, no matter who they were. But who am I to judge? I’d not been beaten and hurt by a man who was supposed to be in love with me, had I?

  I punch my pillow and turn over. Perhaps we could talk through it together and she’ll see it’s best to let the bad memories of the past go – exorcise them and move on. I should know that better than most. I’m helping Mellyn, supporting her through the bad times – even though it’s not always easy – by sticking by her and not allowing the ghost of Megan, that I sometimes glimpse watching me from behind her eyes, take possession. We’ll make it in the end; our future is bright and this time tomorrow my new address will be Seal Cottage. I’m happier than I have been for a very long time.

  Just before I drift off to sleep, Dad’s worried face pops into my mind and I know I ought to give him another ring to tell him I’m staying
even longer. Adelaide will help smooth the waters, thank God. Adelaide deserves sainthood – St Adelaide, Patron Saint of Eyebrows.

  16

  ‘At the harbour, Lu? You sound like you’re in the next room!’ Adelaide’s familiar throaty laughter down the line brings with it images of home. ‘No matter how long I live I will never stop marvelling at things we take for granted like the mobile telephone, the jet plane, and the Internet. Now that really does boggle my mind! I couldn’t tell you how it actually works.’

  ‘It isn’t that easy to understand for me either!’ I laugh, and half listen to her talking about the moon landings while I watch fingers of late-afternoon shadows stretch along the harbour wall and dip into the bay. Boats large and small jostle on their moorings as if gearing up for a race, and the clank, clank, clank of metal on mast sounds less like a tune today and more as if they’re having a conversation about their nautical adventures.

  ‘Your dad mentioned you’d phoned this morning. He told me about you moving in with Mellyn.’

  My half listening switches to full. Though Adelaide’s voice sounds neutral I can’t help wondering which layers of emotive words remain unsaid whilst these innocuous ones had been selected.

  ‘Yes. I decided it was time to tell him – and that I was staying longer too. He seemed okay about it, but I think he’s hurting underneath. You know what he’s like about keeping it all in.’

  ‘Your dad just wants to make you happy. Of course, he misses you … terribly, but as I said to him, you haven’t gone to the other side of the world and you will see him again.’

  Again, I half listen to Adelaide telling me about her sister’s friend’s daughter who went to Australia while I do a quick analysis of her words. It doesn’t look good. Dad is obviously in bits. The pause before ‘terribly’ and the fact that he must have told her he was worried I wouldn’t see him again kicks me hard in the gut. My intuition that he was hurting when I had spoken to him this morning was obviously right.