The Way We Were (13 page)

Her quick look, a mixture of anxiety, sympathy, shock, told him what he'd already known.

‘I shall, of course,' he'd said at once. ‘It's just … you know.'

‘It won't make any difference to Caroline,' Liv had said vehemently. ‘Why should it? You're Zack. She loves you. You're special to her. To all of us. Why should it matter?'

‘Because so far she only knows me in the context of our family,' he'd answered irritably. Sometimes the insistence on his specialness factor was tiresome; OK, he was special, so what? Everyone was special, let's not get wound up about it. Surely Liv could understand the reality here. ‘She knows Mum and Dad, you and the boys. And I'm part of all that,' he'd said. ‘She's bound to have taken a view, even if it's a subconscious one, of my character based on what she knows about all of us.'

‘I see what you mean,' Liv had said after a minute. ‘But it's down to nature and nurture. We've all had the same nurture, so we're all alike as far as that goes, and I expect our genetics are as much of an unknown mix as yours. And Tiggy and Tom were both teachers, weren't they? So that means they related to the young, so that's a positive start. But OK, I take your point. You're still going to have to tell her before somebody else does.'

The terror of that prospect had driven him to it. Clumsily – because, after all, how do you bring the subject up naturally?–he'd told Caroline about Tiggy and Tom. And he was right; there had been a few seconds when she'd stared at him blankly and, behind her eyes, he could see that she was re-evaluating, making new assessments. Luckily she'd been impressed by the tragic little story; moved by Tiggy's journey to the west after Tom's death, determined to keep her child.

‘That was really brave back then,' Caroline had said. ‘She must have been quite a girl,' and everything had been fine.

It was only in the last few weeks, with a new posting from Faslane to a submarine based in Devonport and a fortnight's leave, the old fears had resurrected: would he be a good father? Would some unknown trait suddenly appear and take him off guard? Whenever he had these rare periods of depression he wondered just how much his unhappiness was due to the way in which he'd discovered the truth. It had certainly been a baptism of fire. Time and love had dulled the shock but he could never forget the occasion: a birthday party given by one of their naval friends. It was odd that remembering the event always took on a dreamlike quality. Perhaps it was a subconscious form of self-protection but it seemed to Zack as if the action were happening to somebody else; a small innocent boy with whom he identified but could not protect. He could only watch the scene replay, waiting for the blow to be struck.

1980

Zack is wildly excited. He is four years old and it is his first real party with children older than he is. Because the twins and Charlie have all been invited, and it seems unfair to leave him out, he is to be allowed to accompany them although, he will be much the youngest child at the party.

‘You must be a good boy and do as Liv tells you,' says Mummy.

He nods, almost sick with excitement. Charlie has told him all about it. There is to be a conjuror, then games in the garden with prizes, followed by a birthday tea.

‘I hope he won't cry if he doesn't win anything,' says eight-year-old Andy loftily He thinks that Zack is too young to be invited and might disgrace himself, thereby embarrassing Andy. ‘He's too little, really, for this kind of party.'

‘Of course he won't cry' says Mummy firmly.

And he doesn't cry not even when the terrible thing happens because it's not the sort of thing to cry about: it's much too big for tears.

To begin with, the party is everything he has imagined it will be. He knows most of the children already because they are Liv and Andy's friends, and the conjuror does wonderful magic that keeps Zack gasping with amazement as he sits cross-legged in the circle of boys and girls. When the games begin, he doesn't really mind that the bigger children can run faster or jump higher than he can – as the youngest of four he is used to being outdone – but he finds some sweets in the treasure hunt and feels very happy.

The birthday tea is delicious and it is only when the cake has been cut and shared round and everyone has sung ‘Happy Birthday to You' that he becomes aware of a girl watching him across the table. At first he doesn't like the look of her; her eyes are close together and very dark, so that she seems to be squinting, but suddenly she smiles at him and her smile makes him feel quite differently; pleased and rather proud that she has noticed him. After all, she's much older than he is; about the same age as the twins. Presently, as the children disperse, she comes round the table and squeezes in beside his chair. He quickly finishes his last mouthful of cake – he always lags behind the others at mealtimes – and smiles back at her.

‘You must be Zack,' she says, almost as a grown-up might, and he is flattered that she knows his name.

‘How do you do?' he says politely, as Andy and Liv have been taught when they are introduced to grown-ups. She laughs and then glances quickly around the room. Liv is in the middle of a group of friends, Charlie is at the other end of the table and Andy has gone back into the garden.

She looks at Zack again. ‘You don't remember me, do you?' she asks playfully, almost teasingly.

He shakes his head regretfully. He would like to remember her, if only to please her, but he knows he could never have forgotten her; close up like this she has a sparkly stare that fascinates him.

‘What's your name?' he asks rather shyly.

She hesitates, just for a moment, as if debating how to introduce herself. ‘It's Catriona,' she says, still watching him with those strange, dark, close-set eyes.

‘It's a nice name,' he says – and she laughs again. It's as if she is waiting for something, willing him to do something, though he cannot think what it is. It's rather like a game but he doesn't know the rules. He frowns, for he would like to please her. ‘Do you know all these people?' he asks.

‘Well,' she appears to be thinking about it, her glance straying across the table, ‘I know the girl over there with the long fair hair and that boy at the end of the table.'

‘That's Liv and Charlie,' says Zack, greatly pleased. ‘They're my brother and sister.'

Her eyes flash back to him so sharply, so triumphantly, that he feels anxious; at the same time he has the impression that this is what she's been waiting for.

‘Brother and sister?' she repeats, keeping her voice low. ‘But they're not really, are they?'

He is puzzled. ‘Yes, they are. And Andy's my brother too. Andy and Liv are twins. They're eight and Charlie is nearly six. I'm the youngest. I'm four.'

‘But they're not really your brothers and sister,' she says insistently. ‘Everyone knows that. You're adopted. Hasn't anyone told you?'

‘No,' he says fearfully. ‘What's adopted?'

‘It means you haven't got your own mother and father.'

‘But I have,' he cries with relief. ‘I've got a mother and father.'

She glances swiftly round again. Her voice is even lower but just as insistent. ‘They aren't your real mother and father. Yours are dead. That's why you're adopted.'

Dead. Adopted. The sinister words toll, bell-like, in his head; his stomach churns.

‘No,' he says. ‘No,' but she is suddenly distracted. Liv is coming towards them and Catriona slips away without another word, avoiding Liv, disappearing from the room.

Zack catches hold of Liv, frightened and confused, unable to think of the right words to frame his question properly.

‘Mummy's here,' she says. ‘Come on. It's time to go home.'

He slips obediently from his chair, following her out, looking around for Catriona but she is nowhere to be seen. Squashed in the back of the car with Andy and Charlie (it's Liv's turn to ride in the front) Zack perches on the edge of the seat, waiting for his chance to speak.

‘The beastly Cat was there,' Liv is telling Mummy. ‘They've moved back to Cornwall.'

Zack can't remember seeing a cat but he is too determined to have his say to wonder much about what Liv is saying.

‘Mummy,' he says, clutching the back of her seat, speaking loudly over the boys' squabbling, ‘there was a girl at the party called Catriona. She says I'm adopted.' He stands up so as to be able to speak right into her ear. ‘She says you aren't my mother. She says my mother is dead.'

Liv twists round in the front seat, her face shocked – but it is not the shock of indignation at a lie; it is the shock of pity and fear. Even the boys stop arguing, frozen into watchfulness. In the terrible silence that follows Zack is filled with terror. He knows at once that it is true: he is adopted.

2004

Caroline came into the bedroom as Zack was pulling on his sweatshirt. Her bump was noticeable now, even under her loose shirt, and he was stirred with a mixture of love and anxiety for her. He had to try hard lately not to brood about Tiggy dying when he was born. After all, he told himself, it had been such a one-off situation; a car accident followed by a long walk in a thunderstorm. Even so, it was not always easy to hide his fear for Caroline. He looked at her critically; pregnancy suited her, no doubt about that. Her conker-brown hair shone with health and her honey-brown eyes were clear and happy.

‘Liv's just phoned,' she said. ‘She's suggested we go down and have some lunch with them. Would you like it? You haven't seen Penharrow since they officially opened. I went down for May Day and we went to Padstow to see the old 'Obby 'Oss. It was such fun. Even Val enjoyed it. The Teaser was hopping round, prodding the old 'Oss with his stick, and the 'Oss was snapping his jaws and then suddenly he grabbed Val and pulled her in under his capes. Well, you know what that's supposed to mean, the fertility rite and all that, and when poor old Val shot out again she was looking all flustered and embarrassed, but laughing too. Liv was in great form as usual. Anyway, she sends her love and says come to lunch.'

Zack sat down on the bed to put on his shoes. ‘Would you like to go?'

‘Well, I would. Liv's always such fun and we could have a walk on the cliffs.'

‘OK, then,' he said. ‘Why not?'

She sat down beside him and pulled his arm around her shoulder. ‘It's nice here, isn't it, Zack? It's good to have you back.'

He held her gently, his cheek resting on her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. Love for her rendered him momentarily speechless, and fear for her and the child turned his guts to water. He is aware of a new and growing respect for Tiggy: she must have known a similar fear. How had she managed? Caroline leaned against him and the weight of her, and the warmth of her body, gradually restored him; giving him new strength, new courage.

1976

With her grandmother's death, Tiggy casts off any further dissembling: she no longer tries to hide herself away when Julia's friends turn up, nor does she avoid going into the village. She lets it be known that she and Tom were to have been married at Easter but he'd died before the wedding could take place. His baby must take his name, she decides, and so will she. She will no longer be Stamper but Dacre; nobody will care and, had Tom lived, her name would now be Dacre.

‘It's odd,' she tells Julia, ‘but now that Grandmother's dead it doesn't seem to matter any more. I admit that I would have hated to tell her about the baby – I was going to be cowardly and do it by letter – but now everyone might as well know the truth. Actually, it's a relief. Well,' she adds ruefully, ‘most of the time it is.'

Julia nods. ‘There will always be some people who will suck their teeth and roll their eyes and whisper – but who cares? The ones who really know you won't give a damn.'

‘Angela doesn't belong to either of those categories,' says Tiggy thoughtfully.

‘I'll tell her if you like,' offers Julia.

‘Oh, no,' answers Tiggy cheerfully ‘To tell you the truth, I'm rather looking forward to it.'

‘Poor you,' says Angela, blowing her cigarette smoke sideways, eyes narrowed with malicious amusement. ‘Rotten timing. However will you manage?'

Tiggy shrugs. ‘Impossible to say.'

‘I expect your family will come round in the end,' suggests Angela, ‘once they're over the shock.'

‘I don't have any family' says Tiggy bleakly ‘Now that my grandmother is dead I have nobody.'

‘And you wouldn't consider adoption?'

‘No.'

Angela raises her eyebrows, draws down the corners of her lips. ‘Well, good for you. I'm full of admiration.'

Odd, thinks Tiggy, how this smiling commendation has the power to send a trickle of cold terror into her gut. Safe in her own strong fort of marriage and security, Angela regards her across the table; the narrow gaze penetrates Tiggy's brave exterior and probes the tender parts of vulnerability beneath.

‘So will you stay here? In Cornwall?'

‘Probably I shall have to find a job, of course.'

‘You make it sound so easy. But who will look after the baby?'