Beneath the Surface (32 page)

Kathryn, her face beetroot red, had run off the stage crying and into her mother’s stiff arms. ‘Everyone’s going to laugh at me,’ she had said, waiting and hoping for some comfort.

‘
You
?’ said Eleanor through gritted teeth. ‘What about
me
? I don’t know why you entered.’

‘But I didn’t want to enter,’ Kathryn whined. But looking up at Eleanor’s face, set so rigid with determined anger, she had wondered,
Did I
?

And now this was the final crescendo, the one when everything that had happened came crashing down around her, closing in on her. A black storm engulfed her.

And still, Mother, where are you to tell me what to do? Just like I’ve been asking. You’re not answering me
, Kathryn shouted inside her head.

‘What is it?’ Hannah opened her eyes to see Lauren standing over her bed again, but Lauren looked ill. Her face was drained of its colour, except for her eyes so red and raw. Hannah tried to shuffle upwards into a sitting position. Over the last twenty-four hours she had been awake more and the doctors told her they were pleased with how well she was doing.

Lauren’s fingers played with the stiff white sheet. Hannah was looking forward to getting back into her own bed, and her nice, soft duvet. She took her sister’s hand.

‘You know, don’t you?’ Hannah asked, quietly. ‘Has she told you?’ Lauren nodded and Hannah squeezed tighter. ‘This doesn’t change us,’ she said, but she needed to hear Lauren say it too. ‘Nothing changes.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Lauren cried, tears tumbling down her cheeks and onto their hands. ‘I can’t believe any of it.’

‘No, me neither. But there you go.’

‘She lied to us.’

‘I know.’

‘Made us believe we were twins.’

‘We
are
twins, Lauren. Don’t ever say that. We are, aren’t we?’

‘Yes,’ Lauren whispered. ‘Always.’

‘Well, then nothing else matters,’ Hannah smiled weakly, her own tears sliding down her face.

‘Where do we go from here? I mean, what’s going to happen?’

‘About what?’ Hannah asked.

‘I don’t know. Mum. Kathryn,’ she choked on the word. ‘Abigail. I’m frightened, Hannah. Everything’s going to be different and I don’t want it to be.’

‘I know. But all we have to do is make sure nothing comes between us.’

‘But how are you going to deal with Mum? Knowing she lied to you about, you know—’

‘About being my real mum?’ Hannah shook her head. ‘I have no idea. I guess it depends how she deals with it too. But I’m angry with her, Lauren. I can’t just let her walk away from this. You know that, don’t you?’

Lauren nodded. ‘I know, just—’

‘Just what?’

‘I’m scared.’

Hannah dipped her head, focusing her attention on their hands, so tightly clasped, holding on for everything they still had. ‘I need to see Abigail.’

‘Of course. One day …’

‘No, not one day! I need to see her soon. I want to know who she is, what she looks like. I want to hear her side of the story.’

‘We have no idea where she is,’ said Lauren, and Hannah felt her shift uncomfortably at the side of her.

‘No, but we can find her. We’ll ask Dom to help. Or Morrie. I’ll speak to him when he next comes in.’

‘OK, if that’s what you want.’

‘Of course it’s what I want. But we do this together, right? We deal with Mum and we deal with Abigail together. Or else neither of us will get through it.’

Dear Adam,

I watched her for a moment through the window of her door. She was sitting up at a table by her bed, sketching on a pad, her head bent low, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. Just as you used to joke I did.

My heart ached at the sight of her. She looked like a younger version of me. Kathryn must have seen it every time she saw her. Hannah had to be a constant reminder of the daughter she left behind.

I pressed my fingers against the window and traced the outline of her face, glad for those few minutes so I could take everything in. Her chestnut brown eyes, her rosebud mouth. At certain angles there were glimpses of the baby I had held in my arms and promised I’d never let go of. But at the same time my daughter was a complete stranger to me.

I was filled with such overpowering emotions, love for my girl, but at the same time a fierce anger that I’d lost so many years watching her grow up. That she had been ripped away from me and I was never given the chance.

Hannah looked up and saw me. She took a deep breath and smiled, her eyes anxiously watching me. I needed to push my anger aside because I was about to meet my daughter again for the first time in fourteen years.

Morrie had called me three nights ago, and told me Hannah had asked to see me, and we agreed I would visit her at the weekend. ‘She couldn’t believe it when I told her I had met you,’ he chuckled. ‘She nearly leapt out of bed and hugged me, firing a barrage of questions about what you look like.’ He warned me that whilst she was excited, he didn’t think Hannah understood what she was thinking or feeling about everything yet, and I promised him I would take things slowly.

I noticed Lauren wasn’t in the room. Morrie had said she might not be. Still, I prayed she would come. I didn’t want to break their bond, I hoped I could be a part of it.

Tentatively I opened the door and stepped into the room.

‘Hi, Hannah,’ I said. Tears dripped down my cheeks and however much I tried brushing them away, I wasn’t quick enough.

Hannah giggled nervously, her eyes filling up too. I knelt beside her chair.

‘I’m Abigail.’

‘I know that,’ she laughed. ‘I don’t recognise you, though.’

‘I recognise you,’ I smiled. ‘You look exactly how I thought you would look.’

‘I did always think I remembered someone else,’ she said. ‘It must have been you.’

‘Yes, probably.’

‘I didn’t find out about you until the other day,’ she said, nervously fiddling with the pen in her hand. ‘I didn’t know any of it.’

‘I know that, Hannah. You don’t need to explain anything.’

‘I don’t even know why Mum, I mean—’ She looked away and her cheeks flushed red.

‘You can still call her Mum. Don’t feel embarrassed about anything,’ I told her. ‘Just do whatever feels right.’

‘I don’t really know what feels right, if I’m honest.’ She smiled. ‘I was going to say I don’t know why she left you.’

‘No, well … we can talk about all that some other time,’ I said. ‘But let’s not worry about it right now.’

Hannah smiled at me again, her eyes twinkled and I could see she looked more relaxed.

‘Does this feel weird to you? Because it does to me.’

‘Yep, totally weird! But it also feels incredibly wonderful,’ I laughed. I had so many questions toppling over themselves to get out. Did you have a good childhood, Hannah? Have you been happy? Has Kathryn always treated you OK? What do you like doing? How do you get on with Lauren? But I didn’t ask any of them. Instead we made small talk, and spoke about the little things, like how she was getting on at school, who her friends were; her boyfriend, Dom. We circled each other cautiously; it would take time to get to know one another. But I had all the time in the world for my little girl. Right then I was enjoying building up a picture with all the small but significant details that made up my daughter.

‘There’s so much I want to ask you, and I don’t think I’ll ever find it all out from my mum,’ Hannah said after we had exhausted those subjects. ‘Are you, I mean, are we—’ She stopped and shifted in her seat.

‘Go on, what is it you want to know?’

‘What happens next?’ she asked.

‘Well, that’s up to both of us to decide what we want to do. But from my point of view, I’ve lost fourteen years of your life and I don’t want to lose any more.’

‘So we carry on seeing each other?’

‘Would you like to?’

Hannah nodded. ‘Yes, I really do, I just … I just don’t know what we’re supposed to do,’ she said. ‘Or even what I call you. Do I call you Abigail?’

‘You can call me Abi,’ I said simply. ‘And if you like, you can see me as your big sister.’

‘That sounds like a perfect idea,’ she said.

I waited as a nurse came in and took Hannah’s blood pressure and temperature. ‘How are you doing today?’ she asked, peering at Hannah over the top of her notes. ‘Don’t go tiring yourself out, will you?’ She smiled.

‘When will I see you again?’ Hannah asked me when the nurse had finished and left the room.

‘Whenever you want to,’ I told her. ‘I’m here at your beck and call, you and Lauren.’

‘Lauren,’ she said.

‘Yes, Lauren too,’ I said.

‘No, Lauren,’ she replied, nodding towards the door, a smile spreading across her face that was so wide, I realised I hadn’t seen her so happy in the time I’d been there. ‘Lauren’s turned up. I knew she would,’ she said, almost bouncing in her chair. ‘Lauren, come in,’ she called. ‘Come and meet Abi.’

I turned to see Lauren hovering by the open door. Her body was rigid and her face so closed in contrast to Hannah’s. I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed I was there or just plain frightened.

‘Hi, Lauren,’ I said, my legs shaky as I stood up. I had been crouching on the floor in one position and my muscles were burning. There was my Lauren, such a contrast to Hannah in looks. She had changed more; I really had to try hard to find pieces of the little girl I remembered in the one standing before me now. I didn’t know if I’d have picked her out in a crowd.

‘Lauren, come in,’ Hannah urged. ‘She won’t bite.’

Lauren walked over stiffly and sat on the edge of the bed next to Hannah’s chair. She looked wary of me, and as much as I knew that was natural, I wanted to tell her it wasn’t my fault. None of this was my doing.

Hannah grabbed hold of Lauren’s hand and squeezed it, and started to babble, telling me stories about her and Lauren and every so often saying, ‘Don’t you remember?’ or, ‘What was it you said to her, Lauren?’ Lauren giggled when it was appropriate and I thought she was beginning to relax, but she kept her eyes fixed on Hannah, glancing at me occasionally, as if checking me out and trying to figure out how I was going to fit into their lives. And I couldn’t blame her: I was an intruder, Hannah’s mother. But she’d forgotten that I was with both of them from when they were a day old and I had loved her too.

Eventually the same nurse came back in and told us visiting time was over. ‘You really need some rest, Hannah,’ she said, plumping the pillows and encouraging her back into bed.

So we said our goodbyes and made promises of seeing each other soon. I leaned over and hugged Hannah, breathing her in like I had the moment she was born. I didn’t want to let her go again, but the nurse was bustling about, asking Hannah what she wanted for tea, and so I grudgingly pulled away. Lauren gave me a hurried hug and then hung back, waiting for me to leave. Outside the door I looked back in on them, Hannah making herself comfy in the bed, Lauren fussing around her with the sheets.

‘I’m finding this really hard to get my head around,’ I heard Lauren say.

‘She says she can be our big sister,’ Hannah replied. ‘It’ll be fine, Lauren. We can do this together.’

My daughter. My girls. They were back in my life again. It was all I’d ever dreamed of. I was so happy in that moment I didn’t care about anything else.

I have them back.

Now the only thing missing from my life is you.

Kathryn felt the walls closing in on her. It had been that way for days, she didn’t know how many. The migraines were getting worse and the new pills Dr Morgan had prescribed weren’t working. She found herself wishing Edgar Simmonds was still alive. Whatever he might have done, he had always helped her feel better.

She hadn’t spoken to Dr Morgan about what Peter told her yet. And she still hadn’t spoken to Peter again. She hadn’t told anyone she might have an illness that had been covered up her entire life. She rather hoped it could be ignored, but Kathryn knew it couldn’t. She would have to do something about it.

Morrie was downstairs. He had spoken with Lauren earlier but she couldn’t make out what about. Kathryn hadn’t left her bed since the day the migraine started, after she had told Lauren everything and after she had seen Abigail outside her house.

Morrie was back again now to check on her. He looked concerned when he peered round the door. She had closed her eyes quickly, hoping he would leave her to rot in her own stupidity, which he did. The morning passed and afternoon came quickly. She knew because she had followed the direction of the sun at intervals throughout the day. It crept in through the chinks in her curtains.

Had she taken too many pills
? she wondered briefly, because she felt so sluggish. It was possible. No one had counted them out.

The home phone rang. Morrie answered it, speaking in hushed tones to whoever was on the other end. Kathryn wanted to know how Hannah was doing, and waited, hoping that if it was the hospital Morrie would give her some news even if she didn’t acknowledge it when he did. But none came, and despite how desperately she needed to know Hannah was OK, she didn’t have the strength to walk down the stairs and find out for herself.

Sleep came again. Kathryn woke in a fug, checked the clock to see that only half an hour had passed, then drifted off once more. The longer she stayed in bed, the more tired she became. Each time she woke her body felt heavier and when the clock told her it was 7.30 p.m. she knew it would now be impossible to heave herself out of bed, even if she wanted to.

The phone rang again that evening. She could just about make out Morrie’s voice answering it although she had no idea what he said. It was odd for it to ring so often: the home phone rarely rang.