Nameless (45 page)

‘
Fuck
,’ Kit breathed, feeling sick to his stomach.

‘Have you found anything?’ asked the woman, bustling over.

‘Yeah.’
More than I wanted.

He switched off the microfiche and stood up. ‘Thanks for your help,’ he said, and left the room, left the building.

All those kids! Poor little bastards, they hadn’t stood a chance. He walked back to his car, and got in. Drove over to Michael’s place, and told him what he’d found.

‘There were no survivors?’ asked Michael, lighting a cigarette.

‘Not among the kids. Maybe some of the staff got out, but it didn’t say.’

‘That was the only home, the only one the kid could have been taken to?’

‘Yeah, boss. I’m sorry.’

‘He’s dead then.’

‘For sure.’

‘This is going to break her heart.’

‘I know.’ Kit shrugged his shoulders. ‘But look, at least now she’ll
know.
We’ll be able to find a grave site, I should think, if she wants that.’

‘Yeah. Maybe.’

‘At least she’ll be able to close the book on this. Let it go at last.’

‘Yeah.’ Michael’s eyes were sad. He wished he didn’t have to break this news to Ruby, but he had to. ‘There’s that, at least.’

He told her after dinner that night. Ruby took it on the chin, the way she took everything. But later that night, in bed, he heard her crying into her pillow, trying to muffle the sound, trying not to disturb him.

‘Hey,’ he said, pulling her close. ‘Hey, come on.’ He thought of Kit’s words to him earlier in the day. ‘At least you know now. We could find a grave, maybe.’

‘No! I couldn’t stand that.’

‘I had to tell you. I knew it would hurt, but isn’t it better to know?’

‘No. It isn’t,’ sobbed Ruby. ‘Before, I could hope, couldn’t I? Now, I can’t. Now I know it’s a dead end. That I’m never going to see him again.’

He couldn’t argue with that, she was speaking the absolute truth. He just held her, until she cried herself to sleep.

Ruby was inconsolable.

Her dream of finding her nameless child was over.

This was the end.

114

1974

‘I suppose twins run in your family?’ asked Simon.

Daisy lay back in the private hospital bed, exhausted but happy, fascinated as she stared at these two tiny babies her husband was now cradling in his arms.

‘No, they don’t,’ she said. ‘I thought the twin thing must have come from yours.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, beaming with pride as he cradled his two boys. ‘They’re perfect.’

Daisy lay back and watched him. Simon had been as good as his word; within a year of him and his parents calling at Brayfield, he had married her; and she’d been impregnated on their honeymoon in the Seychelles. Pregnancy had mellowed her a little. She’d been too frightened to drink in case it harmed the babies, and for the first time in her life she took care of her body, nurturing it with good food and gentle exercise.

Now, here was the result. Two healthy children, with their father’s red hair and dark-blue eyes that she suspected would soon turn to hazel. Simon’s genes seemed to have overpowered hers. Just like Simon’s will so often did.

‘What shall we call them?’ he asked, glowing with paternal pride.

‘We’ve already chosen the names,’ said Daisy, yawning.
Or you have.

‘Matthew and Luke,’ said Simon. ‘Like the Bible.’

‘More visitors,’ said the nurse, popping her head round the door.

It was her mother and father, coming in with flowers and chocolates.

‘You are
such
a clever girl,’ said Cornelius to Daisy, taking one of the babies from his son-in-law with extreme care. He grinned at Simon.

And you’re going to give Simon a handsome pay-off for this,
thought Daisy.

But she couldn’t feel too annoyed. She was too sleepy, for one thing. The birth had been difficult, and in the end she had been rushed down for a caesarean as the babies were beginning to get distressed. Her stitches hurt. Her breasts were sore. She felt like she’d been picked up by a whirlwind, spun around, then slammed back onto the earth.

What had happened to her? She felt strange, somehow outside herself. The old Daisy would have been out partying now, boogying along to ‘Tiger Feet’ and wearing leathers like Suzi Quatro when she sang ‘Devil Gate Drive’.

Motherhood
had happened to her.

She gazed at her two boys as they were passed around and generally adored, and felt such an overwhelming wave of love for them that tears pricked her eyes. Was this how Vanessa had felt, when she’d given birth to Daisy? Daisy didn’t think so. She wanted to think that, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

‘Daisy says twins don’t run in your family,’ Simon was saying, and she caught a look –
what was that? –
that passed with lightning speed between her mother and father.

‘They don’t,’ said Cornelius. ‘This is just a happy bonus, isn’t it? Two babies, instead of one. Two grandchildren to spoil, how marvellous.’

Simon gave Daisy a smile, but she knew what he was thinking and she was glad the babies had his red locks and not her blonde ones or he would think she had slept with someone else. Simon was hellishly jealous, which was flattering in one way but in another, a complete nightmare.

‘Have you chosen names?’ asked Vanessa.

‘Matthew and Luke,’ said Simon.

‘Lovely.’

Two months after the birth, she was at home, with Ma and Aunt Ju visiting.

‘He’s not so bad after all, is he?’ asked Aunt Ju, cuddling Matthew.

‘Who, dear?’ asked Vanessa, cuddling Luke.

‘The Red Dwarf,’ laughed Ju.

‘Don’t call him that,’ said Daisy, looking around as if Simon was about to emerge from the woodwork.

‘Don’t look so worried, dear, he’s away on business, isn’t he?’ Aunt Ju smiled across at her niece. ‘Isn’t a red dwarf a star that explodes spectacularly? In which case it’s quite fitting really, as a nickname for your husband.’

Daisy half-smiled, but she felt embarrassed. It was true, Simon had a typical redhead’s temper, blowing up in an instant. She always had to be careful not to annoy him. But, apart from that, he was a good husband, providing her with everything she could possibly want or need.

She had this big if rather charmless house out in the country, a white-painted monolith that Simon had picked out, not her. Daisy knew she was very, very lucky to have him – even if Pa had ‘bought’ him for her, showering his family with gifts and establishing connections for them that would otherwise have been beyond their reach.

She was so relieved that all the madness of her youth was over. When she looked back at her life now, her own behaviour frightened her. Marriage might be dull at times, but it was a safe harbour and she was glad of it. Look at Patty Hearst, for God’s sake – heiress to a colossal fortune, but she’d been caught on camera, toting a gun and raiding a San Francisco bank. Patty had gone right over the edge – and now Daisy could see that, so easily, the same thing could have happened to her.

‘When will he be back?’ asked Vanessa, placing the baby tenderly in his crib.

‘Simon? Oh, about a fortnight,’ said Daisy. Actually, she rather enjoyed these times when business took him away from home. It was peaceful, just her and the twins. No explosions of temper, no walking on eggshells.

She did love him, a bit.

But it didn’t worry her too much, when he was away.

She was on the bed in the master bedroom feeding the babies when she heard his key in the door.

‘Hello!’ he called.

‘Up here!’ Daisy called back.

Simon came up the stairs, loosening his tie, pulling open his shirt collar. He looked hot from travelling, but smiled when he saw her there.

‘Hi, darling.’ He came over and kissed her, smoothed a hand over each baby’s head.

‘Good trip?’ she asked.

‘Hellish. Nice to get back.’

‘I won’t be long,’ said Daisy.

‘No, carry on.’ He sat down on the bed and watched his sons suckle at her blue-veined breasts.

‘They’re fuller than ever,’ he said, fascinated, watching Matthew tugging at the teat.

‘That’s all the milk,’ said Daisy.

‘Do they get sore?’ he asked.

‘Sometimes.’ Daisy looked at him. She knew he didn’t want to hear about cracked nipples and nappy-changing. All that stuff bored him rigid. ‘So did the deal go through?’

‘Fine.’ He shrugged, his eyes fastened to her chest. ‘Christ, that’s quite sexy.’

Daisy said nothing.

‘Missed me?’ he asked.

‘Of course.’ Had she? She wasn’t sure.

‘God.’ He patted his crotch. ‘Look at this. I’m hard.’

‘I can’t, yet . . .’

‘Three months, the man said.’

‘I don’t know . . .’ She didn’t
want
sex yet. Right now, she was so wrapped up in the babies, so permanently exhausted, that she wondered if she would ever want sex again.

‘Just carry on with what you’re doing,’ he said, and pulled back the covers, easing Daisy over onto her side while she still fed the twins.

He knelt up on the bed, unbuckled his belt, unzipped himself, pushed his trousers and pants down onto his thighs.

‘Simon . . .’ protested Daisy.

‘Hush, my beautiful girl,’ he said, and pushed up her nightdress so that he could get inside her.

It hurt, quite badly.

‘Simon,’ Daisy complained.

‘Hush,’ he said, and carried on.

115

‘I think this is it. I’m finally going to tell her,’ said Ruby to Vi, as they sat in Harvey Nicks’ restaurant.

Vi’s red-rouged mouth opened in surprise, her coffee cup poised halfway to her lips.

‘But you said you wouldn’t. And you were warned to stay away.’

Ruby let out a shuddering sigh. ‘She’s had twins.’

‘Yes, you told me.’

Ruby thought about it. Michael had told her the news, he’d heard it on the City grapevine. Cornelius had been bragging around town about the arrival of his grandchildren.

Daisy –
her daughter –
was a mother now.

She knew that Daisy had married into the Collins family. They were in construction, apparently, and very rich. Ruby hadn’t pursued the point about Daisy becoming a mother with Michael – she knew he’d come over all angry and protective if she did – but she did mention it to Rob, who was now her permanent minder.

‘Do you know where they live, Daisy and her husband?’ she asked him.

‘Not a clue,’ said Rob.

‘Can you find out?’

‘Piece of piss,’ he said. And he did.

So now Ruby knew that Daisy and Simon Collins had a house in the Berkshire countryside. Rob gave her the address, and Ruby wrote a letter – and now, to her great joy, Daisy had phoned her, and agreed to meet up.

‘Vi,’ Ruby said deliberately.
‘I
had twins.’

‘I know.’

‘She gets that from me, doesn’t she?’

‘She must do.’

Ruby frowned. ‘Do you think her husband might suspect . . . ?’

‘What, that Daisy’s mother isn’t who he thinks she is? I doubt it. And why should he even care?’

Ruby looked down at her coffee cup. She picked up a mint, turned it over, then put it back on the plate.

‘Those are my grandchildren,’ she said fiercely. ‘I’ve never had Daisy. My boy . . . my boy died before I ever knew him. And now there are grandchildren, and I can’t go near them, can’t be their grandmother. All Cornelius cares about is appearances; he doesn’t give
that
for Daisy’s happiness. And as for Vanessa, my God!’ Ruby let out a sour little laugh. ‘All she wants to do is pick dead heads off roses!’ Her eyes were vivid with emotion as they stared into Vi’s. ‘I could love those children
so much.
I could give them so much love, so much attention.’

Vi took a gulp of scalding-hot coffee. She put down her cup.

‘And so you’re going to let the cat out of the bag. After all these years.’

Ruby swept her hands up over her face and then threw her arms wide.

‘I
have
to, Vi. It’s been eating at me for so long, and now I really can’t bring myself to stand back any more.’

‘Ruby . . .’

‘What?’

‘Daisy might hate you for it. All those years, and you don’t think she’s been very happy . . .’

‘I haven’t seen her in quite a while. But no, she never seemed really happy. She seemed lost, somehow.’

‘Maybe you were imagining that.’

‘No. I wasn’t.’

Vi reached out and grasped her hand. ‘Look, Ruby, at the moment you’re friends, aren’t you? Even if you don’t keep in touch very much. But if you tell her, she might turn against you. Have you thought about that?’

‘Yes. I have. And I
have
to risk it.’

‘And what about Cornelius? Or have you forgotten that the last time you got close to Daisy, he sent the heavies in?’

‘I haven’t forgotten.’ Ruby’s eyes strayed across the room. There was a bulky young man in a suit sitting there, sipping coffee – Rob. Her minder, who drove her everywhere and watched her every movement on Michael’s instructions, ever since that terrifying brush with Tito’s rampaging Glaswegian. Vi’s eyes followed hers.

‘I’m glad to see that Michael Ward’s looking after you, but still . . . is it really wise to stir all this up?’

‘I have to,’ said Ruby simply.

She met Michael at his flat that evening. It was transformed; as invited, Ruby had redecorated. It was a chic, contemporary home now – no lingering memories of his late wife, Sheila, remained.

‘I’m going to tell Daisy I’m her mother,’ she said as they sat on the sofa after dinner, sipping wine.

‘I’m glad you warned me,’ said Michael.

‘Well, aren’t you going to try and talk me out of it? Vi did.’

‘How do you think she’ll react?’ he asked.

Ruby’s face was suddenly a picture of anxiety. ‘I think she’ll hate me. Vi’s right. And Kit said the same when I talked to him about finding my boy.’

‘When was this?’

‘Oh, a long time ago. After that night when Tito’s boy paid me a visit, we talked in the kitchen the morning after. Kit thought my boy would hate me, for letting him go.’