The Marriage Mender (26 page)

‘And what about when you started to show?’

‘He didn’t say a word. Too much of a gentleman. I’m sure he didn’t approve, but main thing was he didn’t fire me. I told him I were going to stay with an auntie in Scarborough for the birth. He gave me an extra pound in my pay packet the week I left.’

‘And then what?’

‘I stayed in my flat and waited mostly. Kept myself to myself, as they say. There were one nosey woman, so I told her the same story. Just to stop people asking questions, like.’

‘So you were on your own for the birth?’

Jayne nodded. ‘When the time came, I put the radio on to cover up any noise I might make. It were the hardest bit, trying to keep quiet through it all. And then he came, just before midnight, just when I thought I wasn’t going to be able to do it on my own.’

‘A boy?’ My voice was breaking slightly as I asked.

‘Yes. I always thought it would be a boy. I remember picking him up off the bed, wrapping him in towel. I couldn’t quite believe he were real. I sat there holding him until the placenta came out. That were more of a shock than the baby, to be honest. I cut the cord with my kitchen scissors and flushed it down toilet, didn’t know what else to do with it. He were so good, though. I did a bottle for him, it were the only thing I’d got in ready, and he drank it and went to sleep in my arms. He didn’t cry or owt. It were almost as if he knew. I just lay there with him, looking at his little face while he slept, too scared to sleep, just waiting for the sun to come up.’

‘And then what?’

‘I put a nappy on him. Wrapped him up in a blanket to keep him nice and warm. My case were all packed ready. I put the towels in a brown paper sack. I’d stripped the bed first so sheets didn’t get spoilt. I were all paid up with my rent, so I just left key on kitchen table, put the sack in the dustbin on the way out and went.’

For a second I wasn’t sure. Maybe I’d got it wrong.

‘You left the baby there?’

‘Oh no,’ said Jayne. ‘I wouldn’t have done that. They’d have traced me, see. And he might not have been found for hours. No, I took him with me, like I’d planned. It wasn’t easy, carrying him and the case. We didn’t have those slings they have now in those days. I actually carried him in a shopping bag, so no one would see. He were fine, quite happy in there he were. And then, when I got there, I just popped him on doorstep, making sure he were under cover in case it started raining. And that were it. I couldn’t stop, because they were going to be opening at eight thirty. So I just had to turn and walk away, crying my heart out as I went.’

She was crying again now. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the scrunched-up tissue in her other hand.

‘Where did you leave him, Jayne?’ I asked, barely able to get the words out.

‘Outside a doctor’s surgery,’ she said.

I nodded and gulped. I couldn’t hold the tears back, though. Not any longer.

‘I walked straight to train station afterwards,’ she said. ‘Let the wind dry my eyes on the way. I got a single
ticket to Leeds, thought I could lose myself there in the big city, see.’

‘And how long ago was this?’ I asked. Just to be sure, quite sure, about it.

‘The fifteenth of February 1969. I’ve never forgotten. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Not with him being a Valentine’s baby. Every year it gets worse as soon as I see the cards in the shops.’

‘That day you didn’t come,’ I said. ‘When Bob said you’d locked yourself in the toilet.’

Jayne nodded. ‘It were worse than ever this year, what with Cassie having gone too. I just couldn’t bear it.

‘I don’t even have a photo of him to remember him by. The only thing I’ve got is this.’ She opened her handbag and took out a tiny clear plastic case and handed it to me. ‘He had all this lovely dark hair, see. I snipped a little bit off before I left the flat. It’s all I’ve got left of him.’

I looked down at the case in my trembling hand. Inside was a lock of dark, curly hair.

Chris’s hair.

It happened on Christmas Eve.

I was doing Santa’s sacks for the children, trying to be as quiet as I could. And he walked past the plate they’d left out for Santa and stopped and stared at me and asked why there was a biscuit instead of a mince pie. And I had to tell him that they’d sold out in Lidl and I didn’t have time to go anywhere else.

He picked up the vegetable knife – the one I’d used to cut the carrot in two, because it was a big one and Maisie had been worried that Rudolph wouldn’t have been able to manage it whole – and he stabbed me with it in the hand. The blood was oozing out everywhere, it looked like I’d been nailed to the cross, and I looked at him and I realised for the first time that I meant nothing to him, absolutely nothing. Not compared to a mince pie.

I sat in the car at the end of the morning’s sessions, still trying to take it all in. I had found Chris’s mother. Without even looking. I hadn’t told her, of course. I would need to seek some professional supervision before working out what to do there. It wasn’t something they tended to cover in general training, discovering that one of your clients was actually your mother-in-law. I’d checked her date of birth on the file as soon as she’d left. It all fitted. There was no room left for any doubt.

Jayne had gone home to tell Bob. Said she thought she could do it, now she’d told the story once. She’d made an appointment for them to come back later in the week. Which just left me. Wondering if I should tell my husband.

We hadn’t talked about whether he’d want to meet her if he could. There’d been no point. Until now, that was.
I felt like a gatecrasher at a family gathering. It seemed so unfair, that I should get to meet her first, even if it was accidental. But I knew that, if I was going to tell him, there was one other person I should tell first.

And also, something I wanted to do. Something which I didn’t think Barbara or Chris had ever done.

* * *

Barbara was in the garden when I got there. On her knees, digging with her trowel in amongst the rose bushes. She looked up and waved at me, her hands caked with earth. All I could think was that Jayne would never do that. Jayne was definitely a gardening gloves and hoe kind of person.

‘Hello, love,’ she said. ‘This is a nice surprise. Everything OK?’

I’d become used to the question over the past few months. A coded way of asking if there was any news without having to state what the news might be about.

‘Everything’s fine,’ I said. ‘I could do with a cup of tea and a chat, though.’

Barbara nodded, put down her trowel and stood up.

I followed her into the house and waited until we were sitting in the front room, two cups of tea and a plate of rich tea biscuits on the table between us, before saying anything.

‘There’s a couple in their sixties I’ve been counselling for a while,’ I said. ‘They’ve both recently retired and their daughter’s emigrated to Australia. The husband thought it was empty nest syndrome making his wife sad. Anyway, it turned out it wasn’t that at all.’

Barbara nodded. She knew I didn’t usually talk about my clients, but she clearly had no idea where this was going.

‘The lady told me this morning that she’d got pregnant when she was sixteen. That she had the baby on her own in secret and left him outside a doctor’s surgery. In Halifax.’

Barbara put her hand to her mouth.

‘It’s definitely her,’ I said. ‘The dates check out and everything. Chris was actually born on Valentine’s Day, just before midnight. She didn’t have a photo or anything but she did have a lock of his hair.’

‘Good grief,’ said Barbara. ‘After all this time.’

I nodded. ‘I know. It was quite a shock. I didn’t tell her, obviously. And I haven’t spoken to Chris yet, either.’

Barbara looked at me, uncertainty written across her face. ‘Are you going to tell him?’

‘I don’t know. I think I should. There’ve been too many secrets in our family. But I didn’t want to do it without speaking to you first.’

‘It doesn’t matter what I think.’

‘Of course it does. You’re his mother.’

‘She’s his mother.’

‘No. She’s just the woman who gave birth to him.’

Barbara gave a little smile. ‘Well, for what it’s worth, I think he has the right to know.’

I looked down at my hands. ‘There is one other thing. Something which makes it more difficult.’

I saw her face tense, her hands clench in her lap. I wished I could find a nicer way to say it but there wasn’t one.

‘The lady, Jayne, her name is, she told me how she got pregnant. It was her brother-in-law. He raped her.’

Barbara’s eyes screwed up tight. I went across and sat down on the carpet next to her, rubbing her arm. When she finally opened her eyes, a solitary tear ran down her cheek.

‘I always wondered,’ she said. ‘I mean, I hoped it were just a lass who’d got into trouble with her boyfriend or summat. But I always knew it could be worse. Ken told me not to think about it. You can’t help yourself, though.’

‘I just don’t know how Chris would take it,’ I said. ‘It’s such a horrible thing to hear.’

‘It is,’ she said. ‘But not knowing how you came into the world must be pretty horrible too.’

I nodded. ‘You’re right. I’ll tell him tonight.’

Barbara looked at me. ‘Give him a hug from me, love, will you? I know it’s daft, but he’s still my little boy.’

* * *

I watched Chris playing with Matilda after her bath. Some daft game of theirs which involved a towel monster and the dreaded comb. He was making an effort, a real effort, I knew that. Because the gaping hole inside didn’t heal over like the one in an earlobe which no longer sported an earring. This one was raw. You could still cut yourself on the edges, it was so sharp. And however much you smiled on the outside, it didn’t numb the pain within.

He still had a smile on his face when he came downstairs from reading to her.

‘What?’ I said.

‘She was doing Miss Root’s voice in
Demon Dentist
. Scary. Very scary.’

‘You know the boy’s dad dies at the end, don’t you?’

‘I thought you didn’t skip ahead? You always used to say you hated people doing that.’

‘I know. Sometimes you have to, though. So you can help someone else to prepare for what’s to come.’

Chris sat down opposite me at the kitchen table. The smile had disappeared from his face.

‘It’s nothing about Josh,’ I said, knowing what he was thinking. ‘It’s about you.’

He frowned at me.

‘I need you to know that I didn’t go digging for information. This isn’t a case of me meddling or anything like that. It was pure chance, really. Although, I suppose, in my line of work the chances are slightly higher than they’d be for most people.’

‘Are you going to tell me what you’re talking about?’ asked Chris.

‘One of my clients shared a secret with me today. The thing that’s been eating away at her for years. Only it turns out it’s the same thing that’s been eating away at you.’

Chris was frowning at me now.

I reached out and held his hand. ‘She abandoned her baby when she was sixteen,’ I said. ‘Outside a doctor’s surgery in Halifax. On February the fifteenth 1969.’

I left the words to penetrate for a moment.

Chris looked at me, his eyes locking on to mine as if he
might plummet from view without them. ‘So it’s definitely her?’

‘She told me the date. You were actually born on Valentine’s Day, not the fifteenth. She even has a lock of your hair …’ I paused and reached down to the floor for my bag. ‘I also went to the library and found a copy of the
Courier
, from the day she left you. Just to make sure it all tied up. I’ve got it here, if you want to have a look.’

I took a photocopy out of my bag and held it out to him. He hesitated before taking it, turning it over and staring at the photo of the baby underneath the front-page headline: ‘Shopping bag baby abandoned outside doctor’s’.

Chris looked up at me. ‘This is me.’

I nodded. ‘I know. I cried when I saw it. I cried a lot.’

Chris read it before looking up again. ‘Did she say what time she left me?’

‘About half an hour before you were found. She knew what time they opened. She made sure you’d be safe.’

‘Did you tell her? About me, I mean.’

‘No. I wanted to talk to you first. I don’t have to tell her anything, if you don’t want me to.’

Chris blew out and shook his head. ‘I don’t know. It’s such a massive thing. I don’t know what to do. What if I don’t like her?’

‘You would. She’s nothing like your mum, though.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She goes to WI meetings, paints watercolours, has her hair done regularly. That sort of thing.’

Chris nodded slowly.

‘She’s about my height, I think. Average size. Wears glasses. It’s hard to say if she looks like you. I’d never noticed it before, obviously. Maybe a bit, around the chin, but that might just be because I was looking for it.’

Chris sat for a while.

‘Did she tell you everything? About why she did it, I mean.’

I nodded. ‘She was incredibly brave. Her mother wanted her to have an abortion. She couldn’t bear to let that happen. So she ran away from home to give birth to you.’

‘At sixteen? Jeez,’ said Chris.

‘She hasn’t seen her family since,’ I said.

‘Did she tell you how it happened?’

‘Yeah. Although it wasn’t an easy story for her to tell.’

‘Was she …?’

I nodded, helping him out. ‘It was her sister’s husband. One night when she’d been babysitting for them.’

Chris shut his eyes.

I squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.

I sat with him, still holding his hand for a long time before he spoke again.

‘Did she tell anyone one?’

‘Only her mum, after she found out she was pregnant. She didn’t believe her, though. Or maybe didn’t want to believe her.’

Chris looked down at the table. ‘Has she got a family of her own?’

‘Yeah. They’ve got a daughter who lives in Australia. She’s expecting a baby in February.’

Chris sat for a while longer.

‘So what happens now?’ he asked.

‘That’s up to you. She’s coming to see me again on Thursday, once she’s told her husband.’

‘He doesn’t know?’

‘No. She was too embarrassed to tell him. Thought he’d think badly of her. That’s why they’ve been having problems.’

Chris shook his head. ‘Do you think she’d want to meet me?’

‘Yeah. I’m pretty sure she would.’

‘I don’t know how Mum would feel about it.’

‘She’s fine with it,’ I said. ‘I already checked. I wasn’t trying to interfere or anything, I just knew you’d ask. She’s happy for you to do whatever you think is best.’

Chris blew out and looked up at the ceiling.

‘Barbara will always be your mum, love. Nothing’s going to change that.’

‘I know. It’s a weird thing, that’s all. Deciding if you want to meet the woman who gave birth to you.’

‘You don’t have to make your mind up now,’ I said. ‘Sleep on it, if you like.’

‘No. It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I know. I think I’ve always known. I just never thought I’d get the chance.’

‘Is that a yes?’

Chris nodded. ‘As long as you’re there too.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I will be.’

* * *

When Jayne came in on Thursday morning her eyes were brighter, her step lighter; she even managed what appeared to be a genuine smile.

Bob smiled too. In a way I’d never seen before.

‘Lovely to see you both,’ I said. ‘Please, do sit down.’

They did as they were asked. Jayne placed her handbag firmly on the floor next to her.

‘So, have you had a chance to discuss things since Monday?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ said Jayne. ‘We have. Bob took it very well.’

She said it as if he’d had every right to be angry with her. Her whole demeanour still reeked of guilt. I wondered how many years it would take to get rid of that. If, indeed, she ever would. I turned to Bob. He had a pained expression on his face.

‘How did you feel, Bob?’

‘Angry. At him, for doing that to her. And for getting away with it. And sad that Jayne hadn’t felt able to tell me before, instead of suffering in silence all these years.’

‘You understand why she didn’t, though? That it wasn’t that she didn’t trust you.’

‘Oh aye. People didn’t talk about this sort of thing in our day. Everything were swept under carpet. Can’t say it did anyone much good, mind.’

‘And now you do know, does it change anything?’

‘I feel awful about what she’s been through,’ said Bob. ‘But I suppose it’s also a relief to know what were causing our problems. I understand it all now. And I know it’s not me what’s upset her.’

‘He’s a daft bugger,’ Jayne said. ‘He thought this were all about me not being happy with him.’

‘Obviously a lot of feelings have come to the surface
here, a lot of misunderstandings, and it will be good for you both to talk those through over the coming weeks. I need to tell you, though, that after having a discussion with my supervisor, I’m afraid I won’t be able to continue as your counsellor after today.’

‘Oh,’ said Jayne, her face dropping for the first time that morning, ‘that’s a shame.’

‘I know, and I’m really sorry about it, but there’s a professional reason why it wouldn’t be ethical for me to continue working with you.’

They both looked at me. It was a moment or two before I could get the words out.

‘I know who your son is, Jayne,’ I said.

She stared at me, her brow creased. ‘You’ve traced him?’

‘No. No, I didn’t do anything at all. I didn’t have to. I’d heard the same story, you see, but from the other side. From someone who’d been abandoned as a baby outside a doctor’s surgery in Halifax.’

Jayne’s mouth dropped open. ‘One of your clients?’

I shook my head. ‘No, it’s not, actually. It’s someone I know personally. If you don’t want to hear any more, I completely understand. We can leave things there. A new counsellor will take over and support you through it all. You’re only just starting to come to terms with what happened, and you may well feel that it would be too much to take things any further at this stage.’

‘No,’ said Jayne, her voice trembling. ‘I want to know. I’ve always wanted to know. He’s my son. I need to know that he’s OK, that he’s happy and healthy.’

‘He is,’ I said.

She shut her eyes for a second. I heard her long, deep outward breath.

‘If you’d like to get in touch with him by letter, or meet up with him in person, it is possible to arrange that. And a colleague of mine will help to support you through it.’

‘He wouldn’t want to meet me, though, would he?’ said Jayne. ‘Not after what I did to him.’

‘He does.’

She stared at me and shook her head. ‘He’s probably just saying that. People don’t like to admit how they feel, do they? He probably hates me. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.’