My Secret Sister: Jenny Lucas and Helen Edwards' Family Story (41 page)

We thought it was a great idea. I found out later that it was almost impossible to get those tickets, so I don’t know how Sam managed it. Dennis had been in Texas when we’d had all the reunion festivities, so he’d missed out on meeting the new branch of the family. I was glad there was an opportunity now for him to meet Jenny and Sam and for us all to enjoy some time together.

We took the train down and stayed in a hotel. Jenny, Sam and the kids came up from Kent to meet us and we all had a lovely evening. We had front-row seats, the best in the theatre, then went out for a meal afterwards. It didn’t take long before the men were doing their own version of bonding. You know what it is with these guys and their drinks? From the beginning they got on like two buddies, and of course they’re brothers-in-law, aren’t they? Isn’t that strange?

Dennis being an American, I think the fact that Jenny and Sam had lived in Florida for a few years helped him to feel comfortable with them straightaway They and the children stayed at the same hotel as us and we all had breakfast together in the morning. The whole trip was a lot of fun. Jenny’s like that anyway, and Sam’s very funny – he kept us all laughing.

When the DNA test results finally came back, Dennis was away in Texas visiting his daughter Amy, so I was at home on my own. In fact, we’d just finished speaking on the phone. I made myself a cup of coffee and started to check my emails.

There it was: ‘DNA test result.’

Suddenly, I was in quicksand. I started shaking before I even opened it. Of course I wanted to see what it said, but I was apprehensive in case it wasn’t what we thought. Mind you, by then I think we were both sure it would be. When I clicked on the header, the email opened. It didn’t say anything. Then I realized there was an attachment. It took ages to open. It seemed like ages, anyway.

Finally, there it was. A kind of certificate, all written in gobbledygook! I stared at it, trying to make out what it said, but I couldn’t understand a word of it. All I could see was this figure: 99.97%. What did that mean? Then I noticed a bit that said something about 96%. I thought, wait a minute, there are two readings here. Which one is it?

I looked down the page and there was a chart listing ‘first sibling’, ‘second sibling’ and lots more figures. The more I looked at it, the more I felt like I was about to have a car-crash. You know – that feeling when you get an acid taste in your mouth? I suppose it’s a kind of shock reaction. The figures on the chart were virtually perfect matches all the way down. I read it again and again. I still couldn’t take it in fully. The more I tried, the less I understood and the more anxious I felt.

Finally I just rang up the number of the laboratory.

‘I’m sorry to bother you on the phone, but I’ve received the results of our DNA test and I don’t understand all these figures. Can you please explain them to me?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She sounded sympathetic. Tell me what % it says at the top of the page.’

‘99.97%. What does that mean?’

‘Well, it means that you and the other person you were tested with are 99.97% full relatives. Of course we can’t usually give absolute guarantees, but in your case, no question! You share the same parents.’

‘Really?’ I gasped in a strangled sort of voice. ‘Both parents? You’re kidding?’

‘No, I’m not kidding, Mrs Edwards.’

‘Well, what does it mean underneath that, the bit about 96% for half-sibship?’

‘Well, that’s just a baseline test. We do that one first. That proves you are at least half-sisters. But in your case that is irrelevant, as the top figure proves you are full sisters.’

‘Wow! You’ve made my day!’

I called Jenny straightaway. I had hardly taken it in myself yet, but I was desperate to share it with her.

She picked up the phone. ‘J-j-jenny . . .’

‘What is it? Have you heard anything yet?’

Yes. Yes, I have.’

‘Well, what does it say?’

I tried, but I couldn’t get the words out, I was so excited.

‘You’re upset, aren’t you?’

‘Not upset. Shocked!’ I paused, trying to calm down enough to tell her. ‘We’re full sisters!’

‘That’s wonderful.’ I could imagine her beaming face. ‘I’m so thrilled.’

‘Me too.’

‘It’s nothing we didn’t already know. This just proves it, doesn’t it?’

We talked on for a while as I related to her what the chart showed and what the woman at the laboratory had said. We were both so excited, we cried and laughed all at once. But Jenny was right. In our hearts, we’d felt it all along. We weren’t just half-sisters any more. We were full sisters.

I was non-stop on the phone that morning. After I’d finished speaking with Jenny, I dialled Dennis’s number in Texas. It rang and rang. I thought I must have missed him and was about to put the phone down when he answered.

‘I’ve got the DNA results.’

‘Really? What do they say?’

‘We’re full sisters.’

He was happy for me of course. Then he said, ‘I can’t believe that your own mother would do that to you.’

‘But don’t you realize? The first thing it says to me is that my father is not my father any more!’

‘You mean you went through all that for nothing?’

I heard myself laugh a brittle, high-pitched peal. It was a kind of relief, I suppose. Yes, he had been a terrible father, but now that I knew he wasn’t my father at all, that explained everything. Why hadn’t I realized before? I felt stupid not to have questioned it when I was younger. It just didn’t occur to me.

As I put the phone down, suddenly the shock hit me. Total shock. I went into the bathroom and stared at my face in the mirror. I studied every feature and line of it. I didn’t know who this person was who was looking back at me. Who was I? Who did I look like?

Suddenly, in front of that mirror, waves of grief washed over me. It was grief for the man I had always thought was my dad, who had died when I was twenty-one years old. I thought back to the day we had left South Africa, Simon, Scott and I. As we went through into departures, I had turned to say goodbye to my parents. I remember Tommy warded me off and shook my hand.

‘Goodbye,’ he’d said in a cold voice. ‘Have a good flight.’

It was this coldness from both my parents that had made it easy for me to leave them behind. I never saw him again. In the years since then I suppose I had tried to remember only the good things and forget the bad. Perhaps I’d mellowed and buried all that misery where it belonged, in my past. But now it had all jumped out at me again.

With the knowledge that Tommy was not my father came a clarity I’d never known before. As a little girl I had always wanted him to love me, but as I grew older I think I sensed that he never really did, or at least was incapable of showing any love towards me. I could remember very few happy moments in his company, except when I was very young and going on those trips in his lorry with him. But something changed at some point, I’m sure of that. Perhaps something revealed during one of their flaming rows, or maybe an unexpected meeting. What effect would that have had on Tommy? From then on I would have been a continuous irritant, eating away at him. I can see now that they were struggling to deal with their demons every day and I was in the way, making it worse.

I wanted to call Jenny again, but I was now beset with a gnawing anger, having just been so elated. I had to sit down and sort out some of the confusion in my mind.

There had been so many lies and deceptions. They had even lied on my birth certificate, to hide the truth. Why had I always believed everything I was told? This was one more proof of betrayal. They had all betrayed me . . . and they had betrayed Jenny too.

But who was my father, our father? Was it Wilfred Harrison? We felt we knew, ourselves, that he was, but we couldn’t prove it. That was our next challenge, to try and find out for certain . . . if we could. I began to feel more positive again with a quest to undertake.

I spent the next few days trying to think of some way to confirm whether Wilfred Harrison was our father or not. Suddenly it came to me. I went to see Alice, one of my oldest cousins.

‘Come in, sit down,’ she said. ‘How are you? Would you like a cup of tea? Have some cake.’

I told her about the DNA test.

‘You know that means that Jenny and I are full sisters?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded and smiled a Cheshire cat smile.

‘Well,’ I continued, as calmly as possible. (I needed to make sure this didn’t sound like a question.) ‘We now know that Wilfred Harrison was our father.’ I held my breath.

‘Yes. He knew about you both.’

That was it – the proof! I felt like getting hold of Alice round the throat and strangling her for never telling me. But I held my composure – I think she meant to be kind.

‘I’m really glad that you’re not Tommy’s daughter. Nobody liked him. He was a bad man. We could all see that.’ She paused. ‘You’re Wilf’s daughter. And Jenny is Wilf’s daughter too. You came from a good, upright family. They were lovely people.’

I did some research locally, which confirmed quite quickly that Wilfred Harrison had died twenty-five years before. I checked the date with Jenny. We were both appalled to realize that when Jenny had first gone looking for Mercia and was told that her birth father was ‘long gone’, Wilfred was actually still alive. If she’d only known, she might have been able to trace him then and see for herself the kind of man he was.

I was relieved when I managed to track down Wilfred’s brother, John. I called straightaway and arranged to visit him and his wife.

‘I’ll be proud to meet you, Helen,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask my older sister to come and join us as well. I think she remembers your mother.’

The next day I went to their house. John hugged me straightaway. ‘I’m so happy that you found us.’

It was a delight to meet them – such lovely people. They welcomed me with open arms and hearts. I explained the background as far as I knew it, and they confirmed what we had thought, and what our cousin had finally told me. Wilfred Harrison was our father. Indeed, when they showed me photos of him, I instantly saw a likeness in both Jenny and me.

Wilfred’s sister remembered Mercia and Wilfred going out together for quite a long time, during and after the war.

‘She was beautiful, you know. She used to do my hair. I used to say, “Mercia, will you do my hair, just like yours?” She usually did.’

‘Wilfred was a sweet man,’ said his sister-in-law. ‘Everybody loved him.’

I loved what I was hearing about the man who was my father. What a contrast with Tommy. They went on to tell me that Wilfred had six children. He was a wonderful father, and the other main thing in his life was his love of animals, especially dogs. So that was how Jenny and I gained our love of dogs. He worked in the mine at Seghill. He was there throughout the war; as mining was a reserved occupation he wasn’t allowed to join up. He joined the Home Guard instead. Apparently, one day he went home to show his mother his training routine.

‘There he was, in full uniform in their kitchen, coming to attention,’ said his brother, ‘when up went his bayonet – straight through the ceiling!’

‘They walked out together for ages, you know, and Wilfred doted on Mercia,’ said his sister. ‘His eyes used to follow her around the room. Then, all of a sudden, they weren’t going out together any more. I don’t know what happened. Your mother went away and we didn’t see her for a long time, not till she came back with you.’

‘Yes,’ added her brother. ‘I always thought there was a skeleton in the closet, you know. Something going on. It was such a close-knit community in those days. Everyone knew who was walking out with who.’

‘Why did they not just get married?’ said his wife. ‘What happened? It can’t have been that bad. What a tragedy.’

‘We’ll probably never know,’ I sighed. What else could I say? My life could have been so different.

As I looked at the photo of Wilfred smiling warmly into the camera, I almost felt he was smiling at me. He was standing with his beloved dog. I could see the kindness in his eyes and a deep well of sadness opened up inside me. My whole life had been tangled up in the lives and selfish whims of my parents. I had had such a miserable childhood in so many ways. I wonder sometimes how I survived that degree of abuse, the psychological abuse in particular, and still managed to grow up relatively sane!

My anger had turned into a kind of grief for the father I never met, for my lost childhood, the sisters I never knew till now. Most of all I grieved for my true father, Wilfred Harrison, who had lived in the same village, yet was completely unknown to me. He could have been one of those black-faced miners on their way home from the pit and waving at me, a little girl sitting in the window, as they went by. Why did I never know? It seems he did.

Jenny and I are both in our sixties now. The time for making allowances and excuses for my mother’s behaviour is long past. No child should have to grow up with that legacy from their own mother, should they?

These kindly people, my unknown uncle and aunts, had given me their morning and I knew that Wilfred’s brother was particularly keen to watch the golf that afternoon, so I left them reluctantly. I told them about Jenny and her golfing career. I said I’d bring her with me to see them next time she was up.

‘Yes, please. We’d love to meet her too.’

As I related all this to Jenny when I got home, we realized that we now had six more half-siblings that we hadn’t known about. Our family had grown so fast.

‘From being an only child, I now have one full sister and eight half-siblings!’

She couldn’t quite believe it. ‘I just feel robbed that I never met my father. I could have done. But it was taken away from me by all the deceit that Mercia perpetrated.’

Soon after that, Jenny contacted one of Wilfred’s daughters, but they hadn’t known about us, so it was a shock for them. She said they needed time. Frustrating as it is, we shall just have to wait and see if they want to meet one day. Or perhaps, like Patricia, they’d prefer to pretend this didn’t happen. We have to respect their feelings. It all just brings Jenny and me even closer together.