Tangled Lives (8 page)

‘Normally we just get cold ham and salad,’ he’d told her back then, looking longingly at the crusty chicken pie just out of the oven and the buttery new potatoes. ‘You don’t have to go to so much trouble, you know.’ Annie had sent him a scathing look and said, ‘But I
like
cooking. Where’s the fun in ham and salad?’

Now she said, ‘You know it calms me down.’ She spoke
lightly, as she lifted the warm muffins into a basket. ‘Will you do the coffee, please?’

‘Sure.’ But before he did so, he came up and put his arms around her. ‘I know you’re nervous, but there’s no need to be. They love you.’

Annie sank back against his chest for a moment. She was hot from the cooking, but she felt a sudden shiver, as if her nerves were short-circuiting.

‘I hope you’re right, but thank you … thanks for the support.’ She took a deep breath and returned to the soothing task of arranging the muffins in a loose pyramid.

‘Morning.’ Lucy came into the kitchen.

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ Richard responded.

‘The others not here yet?’

Annie glanced at the clock. It read just before eleven. ‘I’m sure they’re on their way,’ she said.

Lucy helped herself to a sliver of ham and for a moment there was silence in the kitchen.

Ed and Marsha arrived together. Annie thought they seemed a little subdued. She wondered what Lucy had said to them.

‘Coffee?’ Richard was bright and businesslike as he handed out cups of coffee. ‘Sit … sit,’ he encouraged.

Annie felt her stomach churn. She glanced over at her husband, his eyebrows raised as he urged her on.

‘Muffin? They’re blueberry.’ She indicated the basket.

‘Mum!’ Lucy’s voice sounded like a pistol shot. She didn’t need to say more. Annie took a deep breath and stood
up. It felt better to be free of the table. She leant her back against the cold porcelain of the butler’s sink. The expectation in the room was suddenly palpable, everyone avoiding everyone else’s eye.

‘I have something to tell you,’ she began. ‘Something that I should have told you years ago, but I didn’t know how. It never seemed the right time.’

She paused, mesmerised by her children’s expectant faces, frozen in the moment. Richard pointedly cleared his throat.

‘I have a son.’ She forced the words out. She’d rehearsed all sorts of versions, but in the end she forgot everything and just told the bald truth. But hearing what she’d just said, she quickly corrected herself. ‘Another son. I gave him away for adoption when I was nineteen.’

She waited. Ed and the girls were just staring at her in stunned silence, their faces no longer expectant but bewildered.

‘I told your father when we first met … at least, when I knew we were serious about each other. But at the time I thought I would never see Tom – I called him Tom but he’s called Daniel Gray now – I never expected to see him again. I looked after him in the hospital until he was adopted … in Kent.’ The hot flow, once started, of hitherto secret history felt like a sort of balm. She wanted to go on talking about him forever now. Her children, however, were still gaping in astonishment, as if they didn’t understand a word she was saying.

‘Adopted children didn’t have the right to find their
birth parents in 1967, nor the other way round. Then the law changed.’

‘And he’s found you?’ Lucy asked.

‘Yes. That’s where I was the other night. I met him at Marjory’s last Saturday.’

Ed was silent, his head dropped.

‘Why did you give him away?’ Marsha’s expression seemed puzzled rather than disapproving.

Annie was aware of a strange lightness in her body, as if the secret, now expelled, had had a material weight. It made her feel almost dizzy. Here was the question at last.

‘I … well, I … it was too late to have an abortion. I didn’t realise I was pregnant till I was four months gone.’ Lucy looked surprised, Ed still said nothing. ‘And anyway, it wasn’t so easy to get an abortion in those days.’

‘Who was the father?’ Marsha asked.

‘Just a boy I met. He … wasn’t important. A mistake really.’

‘And he didn’t want anything to do with the baby?’ Lucy queried.

‘I didn’t tell him.’ Annie heard the questions as if they were familiar stations on an Underground map. She had repeated them to herself so often, over so many years, and they were all interconnected, all leading one to another to another, but she had never arrived at a final destination, a reply that would end all questions.

‘It was such a different time,’ Richard said. ‘Your mother had no economic independence. She felt she didn’t have a choice.’

She knew she should have been grateful to her husband for his support. But in fact she felt a surge of annoyance.

‘Don’t, Richard … please. I
did
have a choice. I knew of other girls who kept their children. But my mother was so horrified at how it would look to the parents if I was suddenly toting an illegitimate baby around her precious academy that I gave in. I was weak. And I’d led such a sheltered life.’ She paused again. ‘Mother sent me off to Marjory Best. That was how I met her and became friends. She took in pregnant girls like me, who had nowhere to go.’

‘What’s he like?’ Ed finally spoke. The face she knew so well was suddenly inscrutable.

She took a long breath. ‘Well, he’s … he’s great. He’s thirty-five, he used to be in advertising, but now he writes plays, he read English at Cambridge. He’s really beautiful, he looks incredibly like Great-Uncle Terence. I thought he was charming, easy to talk to. I really liked him.’

‘So this is why you’ve been so weird!’ Lucy said.

‘Yeah,’ Marsha added. ‘We’ve been trying to work out why for days. You’d have laughed at some of our suggestions.’

‘You worried us,’ Ed stated, his tone faintly hostile.

‘So,’ she said, unsure what to say next. ‘You’re not shocked and horrified?’

There was a small silence, then Marsha said, ‘Well, Mum, I’m surprised, sure. Shocked even, I suppose. But why would we be horrified?’

‘I think it’s exciting, having a new relly,’ Lucy declared.

Annie turned to her son.

‘I don’t understand why you didn’t tell us before.’ He wouldn’t look her in the eye.

‘I’ve always felt so ashamed of what I did. I thought you’d think I was a terrible person for giving my baby away.’

There was another short silence.

‘And it was hard, when you were children, to find the right moment,’ Richard added.

‘I can’t imagine having my baby adopted.’ Lucy said quietly. She reached across the table and took her mother’s hand in hers. Annie held it tight.

‘But
why
couldn’t you keep him?’ Marsha persisted, ever the truth-seeker. ‘Grandma had enough money. She could have paid for you to get a flat on the other side of London so those stupid parents wouldn’t be offended.’

Annie felt a pricking in the back of her throat and swallowed hard.

‘You’re right, of course. But at the time …’

‘I’m sure you’d have kept him if you could’ve, wouldn’t you?’ Lucy said.

Would I? She thought. Would I have kept him if my mother had supported me? I suppose so, but not happily. The truth is, I was young and thoughtless, I wanted my freedom.

‘Mum … he really
is
your son, is he? I mean, how do you know?’ Ed’s voice was full of suspicion.

Annie was surprised.

‘Well, of course … I suppose I don’t know for certain,
but he got in touch through Social Services. And, like I said, there’s a strong family resemblance.’ Not for a moment had she thought that Daniel was not who he said he was.

‘It’s just you hear of people conning families by pretending to be a long-lost heir and copping all their money.’

‘Ed!’ Marsha glared at her brother.

‘Look, I’m only
saying
. For Mum’s sake as much as anyone’s. She should make sure.’

‘I think we can be sure, Ed,’ Richard intervened.

‘Have you met him, Dad?’

‘No, but —’

‘He’s not after my money,’ Annie interrupted. ‘He just wants to know who his parents are, which seems fair enough. His adoptive mother is dead.’ She hated the thought that Ed was essentially taking her mother’s position.

‘So did you
never
tell the father about him? Even later on, I mean,’ Marsha asked.

‘I haven’t been in touch with him since that night.’

‘But you know him … you know his name?’

‘Of course I know his name.’ She didn’t say any more.

‘What is it then?’ Ed asked, his voice still carrying an edge of hostility.

She hesitated before naming Charles, unwilling in the last resort to bring him into the family consciousness.

‘You won’t know him,’ she stalled, then caught the look on her husband’s face. It was tense, waiting.

‘OK … his name’s Charles Carnegie.’

She saw Richard relax; obviously the name meant nothing to him. None of the children said a word.

‘Daniel wants to meet him too,’ she added.

‘Wow!’ Lucy leant back, tipping her chair precariously on two legs. ‘Must be too weird, not knowing your real parents till you’re thirty-five.’

‘I think he sees his adoptive parents as his real parents,’ Annie corrected her.

‘Yeah, but you’d still feel the genes, or lack of them, I reckon.’

Richard laughed. ‘Good way of putting it, Luce.’

‘It’s not going to be fun, having to tell this Charles person that you forgot to mention the baby.’ Marsha’s look was full of sympathy, ‘Don’t envy you that, Mum.’

Annie nodded in agreement, not wanting to think about Charles right now. She felt suddenly tired. What a strain it had been, holding her children at arms’ length since the letter had arrived.

‘I think it’s great, Mum,’ Lucy said. ‘It must be amazing for you, finding him again after so long.’

‘What did it feel like, seeing him as an adult?’ Marsha asked.

But before Annie could answer, Ed pushed his chair back loudly, the wooden legs screeching on the tiles, and, without a word, stomped off up the stairs.

The others looked at each other, each face registering surprise and bewilderment.

‘He was bound to take it badly,’ Richard said.

‘Was he? Why?’ Lucy asked.

‘Mum’s only son … then not her only son,’ he explained.

‘Don’t understand why it’s different for him.’

Marsha was looking after her brother with concern. ‘I’ll go and talk to him,’ she said, also getting up.

‘Perhaps I should go,’ Annie suggested.

‘No, Mum. Let me. He’s probably just a bit shocked.’

They watched Marsha leave in silence.

‘I still don’t see why he should be more upset than us,’ Lucy went on stubbornly. ‘You hardly know Daniel … he can’t be jealous of someone you’ve just met, can he?’

Annie shrugged. ‘I suppose it is different. You’re my daughter, and you’ve always shared me with Marsha in that respect. Whereas Eddie, he’s been my one and only.’

Marsha, breathless, came back into the room. ‘He’s gone. I went out, but he was already driving away.’

‘Leave him,’ Richard counselled. ‘He’s being a brat.’

‘Dad! He’s upset. It’s not an easy thing to find out.’

‘You and Lucy aren’t upset … are you?’

‘No,’ Lucy said quickly.

‘Nooo …’ Marsha’s response was more equivocal. ‘But it is a bit of a shock, finding out you’ve got a half-brother out there you’ve never met. Perhaps if we’d known earlier …’

‘That was a mistake … not telling you all. I’m sorry about that, but, as Dad said, there never seemed a good time while you were growing up.’

‘It doesn’t matter now, Mum. Although it might have been a problem if me or Luce had met him and fallen in love with our own brother!’

‘The chances of that happening are about as likely as winning the lottery,’ Richard said.

‘Yeah, and someone does that practically every week,’ Marsha countered. ‘What shall we do about Eddie?’

‘I’ll ring him later, maybe meet up if he wants to,’ Annie replied, wondering how she could have handled it better. She didn’t want to show the girls that, although she and Richard had predicted Ed might be the one most affected, she was taken aback by her son’s response – it had seemed almost mean-minded. He’s never been as demonstrative as the girls, she thought, but surely he must know how much I truly love him.

Emma came round as soon as she got Ed’s call. He took two beers from the fridge, and they settled on the sofa. Mike was at a video-games convention at Earl’s Court so they had the place to themselves.

‘Mum was cool as a cucumber … oh, by the way, I’ve got another son who’s totally
gorgeous
… and he went to
Cambridge
. Oooh, well, how clever is that?’

‘Eddie … stop it. She was probably freaked out having to tell you. It’s a fuck of a long time to keep that sort of massive secret.’

He looked at her in exasperation. ‘This isn’t just about Mum though, is it? Everyone’s feeling sympathy for my
mother, but what about me?’ He knew he sounded peevish, but he didn’t care, he was furious.

Emma put her arm round his shoulder. ‘Come on, it’s not the end of the world. What exactly is it that’s upsetting you? Having a new half-brother? Or the fact that he went to Cambridge?!’

He didn’t know. All he knew was that he felt hideously jealous, like a stabbing, painful feeling, which was too ridiculous to say out loud. Sad to say, but Emms might be right, he thought. It was Daniel’s degree that got up his nose as much as his relationship to his mother – university, especially bloody Oxbridge, rang a very sour note for him.

He thought back to the terrible day he’d got his A-level results. He’d suspected all along that he wouldn’t do brilliantly. Not that he’d slacked on the revision, he just found it hard, but he hadn’t been prepared for the disaster of two Cs – and an F in economics. Economics: his father’s favourite subject! His mother had been a bit too effusively kind and ‘it doesn’t matter’ supportive. But his father … he still winced when he remembered the anger and disappointment on his face. They’d wanted him to do retakes – his father had argued with him for weeks about it – but he’d stubbornly refused. Do the year again and probably still fail? That was so not going to happen, even though it meant giving up any chance of uni – where all his friends were headed.