The Very Picture of You (24 page)

Ready, sweetie? One, two, three…

‘And
what
, Mum?’

U-u-u-u-p she goes!

Mum’s face was perfectly still – like a frozen waterfall. ‘And this little girl,’ she answered softly. ‘She was holding their hands. She was about three.’

More Daddy! More!

‘They were swinging her up in the air and they were all laughing.’ Mum paused. ‘And then I understood…’

I tried to speak, but my mouth had gone dry. ‘So…’ My heart was banging in my chest. ‘You’re saying that
my father had a child with his mistress? And that he’d never told you?’

‘Never.’

So this was why the encounter had been ‘traumatic’.

‘What a shock,’ I breathed.

‘It was more than a shock. It hit me like a blow from a hammer.’ Mum was still staring ahead. ‘They hadn’t spotted us, but by now I was in a panic, not knowing what to do. I decided that we had to leave before we were seen, so I hurried towards the car, but you were trying to pull me in the opposite direction. I told you to come with me, but you refused. Then you turned and called out, “Daddy!
Daddy!
” He glanced up. And when he saw us, he looked
so
…’

I saw my father’s face, his mouth an ‘o’. ‘Startled…’ I whispered.

‘Yes. He also looked ashamed and confused. I tried to hold you, but you wrenched your hand free and you ran towards him. I called you to come back, but you wouldn’t stop. I had no choice but to follow you and so…’ She blinked again. ‘There I was, face to face with him, and her, and this… little girl.’

‘A little girl,’ I echoed, still trying to take it in.

Mum nodded. ‘He’d concealed her existence from me. I knew about the… relationship.’ I thought of the hotel bill that Mum had found in my father’s pocket, and the love letter. ‘But I tolerated it,’ Mum went on bleakly, ‘because I believed that it would end.’ She exhaled. ‘But I had no idea that Frances had had…’ Mum looked at me in bewilderment. ‘It didn’t seem
possible.
’

‘Why
not
?’

‘Because… John had told me that she was unable
to have children – and she was ten years older than he was.’

‘Really?’ I adjusted my mental image of the woman who’d so beguiled my father.

‘So for her to have a child was the
last
thing I expected. She would have been forty-two when that baby was born.’

‘But… I still don’t understand why you
stayed
with him. There he was, having this long affair – an affair you knew all about, such that you even discussed with him your fears that the other woman might get pregnant? How horrible!’

Mum looked stricken. ‘It
was
horrible – it was
awful
!’

‘Then why didn’t you
divorce
him? You were young – and beautiful. You could have found someone else. Why didn’t you leave him, Mum?’

Her blue-grey eyes were shimmering, like melted ice. ‘Because I loved him,’ she answered softly. ‘I didn’t
want
to leave him.’ She drew in her breath, slowly, as if in physical pain. ‘But… there we all were. And Frances looked at me with utter
hatred.
’

‘But… why should
she
hate
you?
’

Mum gave a helpless shrug. ‘She just… did. Then you said, “What are you doing, Daddy? Are you helping this lady?” Then Frances gave you this penetrating stare that I’ve never forgotten.’

‘The skirt,’ I said quietly. ‘The white skirt with the big red flowers. It was
hers,
wasn’t it? Not yours.
She
was wearing it.’

Mum nodded. ‘Then she picked up the little girl and carried her inside. John looked at me furiously, then he told me that he’d never forgive me.’

‘But – this all sounds the wrong way round –
you
were the wounded party.’

‘Yes,’ Mum said hotly. ‘I was!’ She banged her hand down on the edge of the table. ‘I
was
the wounded party!’ Her chin dimpled as she struggled not to cry. ‘But I suppose he was confused and ashamed – his double life had been exposed.’ She blinked away a tear. ‘But as I walked away with you, I felt as though my whole world was sliding off a cliff. Because there was a child, and I knew that this would change my life for ever.’

‘But… you’re telling me that I had a
sister.
’ I stared at my mother. ‘What was her name?’

‘Lydia,’ she answered after a moment.

‘Lydia,’ I echoed blankly. ‘And you’ve never
told
me?’ Mum didn’t respond. I glanced into the garden. ‘Is
Roy
aware of this?’

She shook her head. ‘I knew that he’d only tell you – or make
me
tell you. And I didn’t want you to know.’

‘But…’ I felt anger and indignation rise up, like magma. ‘What if I’d wanted to meet Lydia – or get to
know
her?’

A muscle at the corner of Mum’s mouth twitched. ‘That’s precisely what I wanted to avoid, because if you had done then we’d have to have had contact with John again, which was the
last
thing I wanted.’ Her hands were curled into fists. ‘I was determined to preserve the integrity and stability of my
family.
’

‘So you hid my sister’s existence from me – all these years? How
could
you? How could you
do
that, Mum?’

She gave me a blinkless stare. ‘It surely must have occurred to you, Ella, that your father might have had other children?’

‘Well… of
course,
’ I answered faintly. ‘I guessed that he’d probably had another family, in Australia – but that’s an
abstract
thought. You’re telling me that he had a child
here,
in the UK, just a few miles from where we lived – a child who was only two years younger than me – a child I’d actually
met –
and might have
known
?’

Mum smiled bitterly. ‘Oh, that would have been cosy. The daughters of the wife and mistress being playmates? Would
you
want that, Ella, if you were ever in the situation that
I
was suddenly in?’

I imagined myself in my mother’s shoes. ‘No,’ I conceded. ‘I wouldn’t. It would be very awkward, even today; and yes, thirty years ago it would have been…’

‘
Unbearable
,’ Mum concluded. ‘You can imagine the gossip and speculation.’

‘All right.’ I exhaled, sharply. ‘Even so… the idea that you never, ever
mentioned
her to me – my God…’

‘I
couldn’t
…’ She heaved an exasperated sigh. ‘Because if I
had
done, then you might have wanted to contact her, which would have put us back in John’s orbit, which, I repeat, I did
not
want.’

I glared at Mum. ‘Everything’s been about what
you’ve
wanted.’

She blinked. ‘No, Ella. No. I was thinking of
you
. Because the point is not that your father got himself into that situation. The
real
point is that you were almost five years old by then, and your father had seemed devoted to you, but—’

‘What do you mean “seemed”?’ I interrupted. ‘He was! He
was
devoted to me! That’s why my memories of him are only happy ones. I remember him playing with me, and pushing me on the swings, and watching
children’s television with me, and taking me to the theatre to see you dance. I remember him putting me to bed, and reading to me and doing painting with me; I remember him hugging me, and holding my hand…’ My throat ached. ‘In
all
my memories of him, he’s holding my
hand
!’ I felt my eyes fill. ‘So don’t tell me that he wasn’t devoted to me – because he
was
!’

Mum clasped her hands in front of her again, then inhaled. ‘You still don’t understand. You
still
haven’t got there. So now I’m going to tell you.’

‘Tell me
what
?’ I fumbled in my pocket for a tissue. ‘What are you going to tell me?’

‘The truth,’ Mum answered bluntly. ‘I’ve never
wanted
to tell you the truth, Ella. I’ve sheltered you from it. But now I will.’ My mother’s slender chest rose, and then fell. ‘Ella,’ she said softly, ‘your father chose to be with this
other
child. He chose to spend his life with
her,
and not with you.’ Tears glimmered in her eyes. ‘
That
is what I’ve never wanted you to know.’

As my mother’s words impacted on me I imagined feeling my father’s hand in mine, his grip firm and strong, then his fingers suddenly loosening, and letting go.

Mum swallowed, painfully. ‘But that’s not
all
he did.’

‘What do you mean?’

She inhaled, shudderingly, as though suddenly cold. ‘That day, you and I then walked back to the car, and I drove home. I was in shock – how I managed not to crash, I don’t know. You were asking me why Daddy was playing with that little girl and who that lady was. I didn’t answer – I didn’t know how. Nor did I know how I’d be able to go on stage that night and dance – but I did and
as
I danced I felt that Giselle’s suffering
was my own: and afterwards everyone said that it was the best performance of my life. What I couldn’t have known was that it was to be the
last
performance of my life.’

‘The last…?’

Mum laced her fingers together. ‘At eleven, I got back to the flat. The babysitter left, then I just lay on the bed, in the darkness, watching the headlights from passing cars strobe across the ceiling. After a while I heard the key turn in the front door – John was back. Despite what I’d discovered that day, my reaction was one of relief. He’d come
back
. I ran downstairs to greet him. But his face was white – he was trembling with emotion.’

‘What did he say?’

Mum was staring ahead now, as if reliving those moments. ‘He said that he couldn’t stand it any more. He said that he’d prevaricated for three years and it had driven him
mad
. He said that he was finally being forced to choose. I felt myself start to panic, but then he went wearily upstairs and I felt
so
relieved – he was going to bed. We would sleep, then work things out in the morning – I was certain that everything would be all right, just as long as we stayed together. But as I went into the bedroom I saw him pulling his suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe; then he began opening drawers and taking out his clothes and putting them into it. Then he looked at me… and he said…’ Mum’s voice had caught ‘…that he’d decided to be with Frances. He said that he didn’t want to lose her. He said that he loved her…’ Mum wiped away a tear. ‘So this was the second hammer blow that day. I begged him
not
to leave us, but he carried on taking his things out of the
drawers, quickly putting them in his case. Then he snapped the clasps shut, picked the case up and, without even glancing at me, went down the stairs.’

My hand flew to my chest. ‘Didn’t he say goodbye to me? Surely he wanted to say goodbye to
me
?’

‘He
did
want to – but you were asleep and I wouldn’t let him wake you. I didn’t want you to know what was happening. So as I followed him down I told him that he’d
have
to come the next day, to reassure you. But he didn’t answer. He opened the front door and then, without a backward glance, he went down the steps.’ As my mother said this I remembered the steps – they were steep, with smooth black tiles. Mum exhaled. ‘As I followed him out I saw him throw his case into the back of the car. I called to him, but he didn’t answer – it was as though he was sleep-walking. Then he got behind the wheel and turned the ignition. The car was moving away. So I ran down the steps after him…’ Mum paused. ‘But I was so distraught that as I reached the last step I slipped, and felt my ankle buckle. Then I was in agonising pain.’

‘Oh, Mum…’

She was shaking her head. ‘I must have screamed, because our neighbour, Penny, came running out. She called the ambulance then stayed with you until my mother got there in the early hours. I’d broken my ankle – the surgeon who operated on it told me that it was a very bad break – a “complicated fracture”.’ Mum looked at me in despair. ‘So that was the
third
blow of the hammer on that terrible day, by the end of which I felt that everything in my life was… shattered.’ She laid her hand on mine. ‘But I consoled myself that I
still had you. You were my only solace in those dark days, Ella.’

I stared at Mum. ‘I remember how sad you were. You used to sit in the kitchen, for hours, barely speaking, or you’d lie on your bed, your face to the wall.’

Mum turned up her palms. ‘I felt as though I’d been hurled into an abyss. What I would have done without my mother, I don’t know. But it remained my belief that John would come back, because he’d always come back, and I’d always forgiven him – and I would have forgiven him again,
even
then.’

‘Oh, Mummy…’ Now I understood the depth of her feelings for my father.

‘But this time there was no word from him. And when I at last felt composed enough to phone his office, his colleague Al said that John wasn’t there. Al seemed embarrassed,’ Mum went on. ‘I presumed that this was because he knew that John had left me.’ She pursed her lips. ‘But that wasn’t the reason at all. It was because Al realised that I had no idea that John no longer worked there. When he told me this I was… stunned. I asked him
why,
and where he’d gone – it was so humiliating, not knowing where my own—’ Mum drew in her breath, shudderingly. ‘Then I heard Al say, “You don’t
know
, Sue? That he’s gone to Perth?” By now I was in turmoil, but desperately trying not to show it, so I asked him if John had gone there for work, adding that I knew he’d once done a project in Dundee. There was a pause. Then Al said, very quietly, “Perth in Australia. He left ten days ago. He’s gone there for good.”’ Mum closed her eyes as if to shut out the memory.