Unbecoming (2 page)

Mary had a blanket over her knees, and she was clutching her handbag tight and she didn’t know where she was, but she wasn’t at home and that was reason enough to be wary. Was she supposed to be working? No, this wasn’t a theatre, it was too domestic for that. Here was a sofa, a television, a lamp on a corner table, a little column of drawers and a carpet. Here was a girl setting down a tea tray.

Was this a hotel, perhaps?

‘Here you go, Grandma, a nice cup of tea. Shall I put it on this table for you?’

Who?

‘It’s Katie, remember?’

The girl was staring, expecting an answer. To distract herself from the unease growing in her belly, Mary picked up the cup and took a sip, held the liquid in her mouth and swallowed. She took a breath, did it again. See? Everything normal, nothing to look at here!

‘I wasn’t sure if you took sugar,’ the girl said. ‘But we don’t actually have any, so is it OK like that?’

Mary wiped her mouth with the hankie she kept up her sleeve and tried to think of a suitable sentence to pacify the girl.
What charming windows you have. How lovely the sky
.

The girl leaned against the balcony door, watching her. She
looked upset. Or maybe it was a trick of the light. ‘I thought I didn’t have grandparents,’ she said eventually. ‘And now it turns out you were there all along.’

She had no idea what this child was talking about. Her heart gave a little leap of fear.

‘We’re the smallest family ever now Dad’s gone, not even any cousins or aunties. We’re like three sides of a triangle holding each other up.’

Mary struggled to sit taller, snatching at the girl’s mention of family, afraid the meaning would disappear like things sometimes did when she concentrated too hard. But then she heard a noise. That was something, that noise. That sounded like a door, like someone breezing in from outside.

‘It’s Chris,’ the girl said. ‘He finds it hard to be quiet.’

And then there were two children standing in front of her. Two. And still no clue who they were.

Unimportant questions were asked, like: Are you warm enough? And, Do you need more milk in that tea? Mary was told their mother was upstairs rearranging beds and soon they could all get to sleep and wouldn’t that be nice?

It was the girl doing the talking. The boy gawped, gimlet-eyed. Something was wrong with him, staring at her so unnervingly.

‘He’s shy,’ the girl said, as if she could read minds. ‘He’ll speak when he gets to know you.’ She turned to the boy, grinning. ‘And after that, he won’t shut up.’

The boy laughed, which made the girl laugh too. Something stirred in Mary, watching her do that.

Think woman, think. Who are these people?

Air filled her lungs. Her lungs expanded. Oxygen whizzed around her body. Air came out again in a rush of warmth and a soft, ‘Oh,’ escaped her lips.

‘You OK, Granny?’

No, she was not! Because she’d remembered suddenly and precisely, as she had at least twenty times that day already, exactly what was happening. She’d gone with Jack in an ambulance to the hospital. The doctors were terribly sorry, but they couldn’t save him. They also couldn’t allow her to go home. Instead, they’d located a daughter.

Caroline.

Then these two children must be …

Caroline’s children
.

It rendered her speechless. Just the thought. After all these years.

Katie couldn’t sleep. She lay in the Z-bed next to Mum and tried to relax, tried to breathe into her toes and think of nothing except the present moment and her own body. But she kept thinking of the old woman across the landing instead. Why did Mum never talk about her? How did you keep your own mother hidden? Why would you? Even people who hated their families still managed Christmas and birthdays.

Katie leaned on one elbow and looked at the dark shape of her mother in the bed.
Who are you?
she thought. Because it felt like everything had shifted and nothing was quite to be trusted any more.

The curtains were slightly open, and through their gap the sky was darkest blue. Katie pushed off the duvet and crept quietly across the room, eased the window open and leaned out to smell the air. It had stopped raining and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves. The air smelled different from earlier – fresh and cold. As she leaned out, she saw a cat dash under a parked car, heard footsteps and laughter and watched a group of people cross the patch of green in front of the flats and go out through the gate. Beyond the estate were the streets and houses of North Bisham. Katie could send semaphore from here …

Flash,
did you get my text?
Flash, flash,
please let’s talk about what happened.
Flash,
it’s doing my head in.

‘What’s going on?’ Mum said. ‘Why are you standing there?’

Katie turned as her mum struggled to sit up. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Aren’t you well?’

‘It’s stuffy in here, that’s all.’

‘And now it’s freezing.’

Katie pulled the window shut and stood with her back against the ledge.

‘Did you hear a noise?’ Mum said. ‘Is that what woke you? Do you think she’s wandering about?’

‘I didn’t hear anything, I was just hot.’

Mum dragged the duvet up to her neck and leaned back against the pillows. She looked vulnerable, as if there was something wrong with her and Katie had come to visit. ‘What do you reckon that social worker would have done if I’d refused to take her?’

‘Stuck her in some emergency place, I guess.’

‘I should have let her do that.’ Mum ran a hand down her neck and rubbed at her shoulder. ‘I felt completely pressurized.’

‘It must be scary being handed over to a bunch of strangers.’

‘Strangers?’

‘Well, she doesn’t recognize you after all these years. That’s the same thing.’

Mum sighed and nestled back into the pillows. ‘So, she’s a poor old woman and I’m cruel and heartless?’

‘I’m not saying that. It’s just … well, it’s weird for everyone, I guess. She’s bereaved. You’re freaked out. Me and Chris know nothing about her.’

‘You know she walked out the door when I was born.’ Mum’s voice was low, hardly more than a whisper. ‘You know she didn’t show her face again for years.’

‘But you lived with her when you were older. That’s what you
said in the car. So, why have we never met her? Why have we never had a birthday present or pocket money or been invited to tea?’

Mum frowned. ‘Is that all you think about – the things you’ve missed out on?’

It did sound like that, but Katie hadn’t meant it that way. ‘It’s strange, that’s all. She’s your mum and you never talk about her.’

‘I don’t consider her my mum, that’s why. She didn’t feed or clothe me or make sure I went to school or look after me when I got sick. Her sister, Pat, did all that. As far as I’m concerned, Pat was my mother. The woman who gave birth to me was another person entirely.’

‘And Pat’s not about to appear out of the woodwork, is she? She’s definitely dead?’

‘You know she is.’ Mum pulled the duvet higher. ‘It takes more than biology to be a parent, it takes sacrifice. You can’t just run about doing what you like.’

Katie felt something shift and tighten in her stomach because those were the exact words Mum yelled at Dad all those months ago. It made it difficult to breathe, so Katie turned back to the window and pressed her cheek against the cold glass.

‘First thing tomorrow,’ Mum said, ‘I’ll pop into work and let them know what’s going on. After that, I’ll call the hospital and get a list of nursing homes. Somewhere must have a space.’

Over there, beyond the trees, were the big houses with gardens and gates, where kids probably had two parents and didn’t have to share a bedroom with one of them. Ordinary families.

‘Chris can have the day off school to sit with her. He’s had a late night as it is. Your maths session’s at eleven, isn’t it?’

Katie’s family used to be ordinary. Before Dad got a girlfriend and Mum got a skip and chucked Dad’s stuff in it. Before Mum declared their family home was tainted and dragged them to this
town. Before Esme. And now Katie could add a secret grandmother and an ancient family rift to the ranks of unordinary things.

‘Are you listening to me, Katie?’

‘I can miss maths.’

‘No, you can’t.’

‘I’m on study leave, remember? None of the school sessions are statutory.’

‘Well, they should be.’ Mum patted the bed beside her. ‘Come here.’

Katie didn’t want to be touched, but Mum was holding her hand out, so Katie went slowly over and sat beside her.

‘Your future’s a very important part of this family’s equation and nothing’s going to jeopardize it.’

She leaned over and ruffled Katie’s hair, which Katie didn’t remember her ever doing before. It was all a bit awkward.

‘Smoke alarms!’

‘What?’

Mum threw the duvet off. ‘I’ll check the batteries.’

‘You think she’ll set the flat alight?’

‘I wouldn’t put it past her.’ Mum grabbed her dressing gown from the chair and pulled it on. ‘I’ll hide the front door key as well.’

Katie laughed, she couldn’t help it. ‘You don’t want her here, but you don’t want her escaping?’

‘I don’t want her causing chaos.’ Mum shoved her feet into slippers. ‘She might look harmless, but she’s capable of anything.’

‘Sure I can’t tempt you onto the balcony?’

The old woman shook her head and curled her fingers tightly round her bag. Katie unfolded a deckchair and turned it to the sun. She put up the umbrella for shade and plumped one of the cushions and put it on the chair. ‘It’s a good view and you’ll be able to see Mum come back across the grass.’

More head shaking.

And where was Mum anyway? She’d been gone far longer than the half hour she promised. And Katie had to get to school soon, which felt like just another disaster waiting to happen – not just maths revision, but the inevitable stares, the whispers, the feeling that her legs were too short and her arms too long and her walk too weird and her clothes not right.

Oh, God!

The balcony suddenly felt very exposing.

She closed the doors and sat on the carpet at the old woman’s feet. Maybe she should call Mum and
insist
on missing maths? Mum could stay out and Katie could sit right here keeping an eye on things. It made total sense. She could think of some old lady activities, like knitting or macramé and look them up on YouTube. It might be fun being a carer. She might even be good at it. If she found the right name (and she hadn’t tried
Nana
or
Grams
yet), it
might be like a magic key that opened the old woman up to communication. Maybe when you got to know her, she’d be like one of those wise women in fairy tales, full of advice and wisdom. She might even have potion-making skills and Katie could get her to make some kind of ‘forgetting serum’ and get Esme to drink it.

Katie sighed. First of all, Mum would never let her skip a revision class so close to the exam.
An investment in knowledge pays the best interest
was her favourite quote in the world. Second of all, this grandmother sitting in front of her was clearly incapable of intelligent transaction. She’d spent last night looking terrified and this morning looking confused and now she had her eyes shut again. She was clearly not going to do or say anything of merit, so instead of fantasizing about magic potions, Katie should encourage the poor thing to eat and help her feel comfortable.

‘How about some breakfast? We don’t usually have anything exciting in the house, but Chris sounds like he’s raiding the freezer, so we might get lucky. You fancy something to eat?’

No response.

‘Actually, it’s not a house, it’s a flat. Maybe you remember coming up in the lift last night?’ God, now she sounded patronizing. ‘We’re on the top floor,’ she added. ‘It’s a great view. If you were to come out on the balcony right now, you’d be able to see the whole of North Bisham shining away in the sun.’

The old woman opened one eye – seamlessly, without letting the closed one even flicker. It made Katie smile because this was something she thought only she could do. She’d never met anyone who’d been able to replicate the exact spookiness of it. No frowning. No screwing up your face. Just one eye closed and the other open. Like you were half sleeping. Or only half alive.

‘Bisham?’

She spoke! Katie was almost too shocked to reply. ‘Yes, do you know it?

‘Victory Avenue?’

‘Um, no. Is that round here? You want me to Google it?’

The old woman snapped the other eye open. ‘What?’

Of course! This poor woman probably didn’t even know computers were invented. Google it? What was she thinking? She was an idiot!

‘It’s like a map. I can look it up. You want me to?’

Katie was elated. They’d had a conversation! A whole one and it made sense! They sat in silence looking at each other. It went on for ages. It made Katie think of zoos and how weird it was when a caged animal came up close and studied you as intently as you were studying them.

Eventually, the old woman said, ‘Caroline lives in Bisham.’

‘Yeah, she’ll be back soon. She just popped to work.’

‘Work?’

‘At the estate agents. She had to hand some keys in.’

Katie watched her absorb this. ‘You’re Caroline’s daughter.’

‘That’s right.’

The old woman shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it. ‘You’re all grown up.’

‘Well, we missed out on seventeen years together, didn’t we?’

And that’s when Chris came in with a chocolate cake. He’d cut it into pieces, which meant he’d taken the opportunity to eat at least one slice out in the kitchen. He’d remembered plates and napkins though, which surprised her. Katie took the cake from him and held it out. ‘Would you like some?’

A small smile. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘Hey, she talks!’ Chris said.

Katie glared at him. ‘Don’t be rude.’ She held the plate nearer.
‘Which piece do you want, Mary? I expect you’re hungry, aren’t you?’

‘Mary’ sounded right, seemed to work too, since her smile widened.

‘Mary,’ Katie said again, enjoying the sound. She didn’t know a single other human being with that name. ‘I’m going to put the biggest piece on this plate for you, look.’

Chris got himself a slice and sat on the carpet at Mary’s feet. ‘Can you believe Mum didn’t make me breakfast? She never forgets stuff like that. Not ever.’

Mary peered down at him. ‘I have absolutely no idea who you are.’

‘I’m Chris!’ He banged his head with his fist to prove it. ‘Hear that? That’s me.’

‘You live here?’

‘Where else would I live?’ He spiralled a finger at his temple, meaning
crazy
.

Katie rammed her foot at him because he hated it when people made that gesture at him, but he just laughed and slid out of reach.

Mary looked from Chris to Katie and back to Chris. ‘You two have exactly the same colour hair.’

Katie smiled. ‘Titian.’

‘Either of you get called Copper Top?’

‘Dad calls me Agent Orange,’ Chris said. ‘Well, he would if he was here …’

‘What does your girlfriend call you?’

He laughed. ‘I haven’t got one. Mum would go nuts.’

She turned to Katie. ‘What about you? Are you courting?’

A memory of a kiss, like a grainy black-and-white dream, drifted across Katie’s mind. She pushed it solidly away. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘Pretty thing like you. No suitors bashing at the door?’

‘That definitely doesn’t happen.’

‘When I was a girl I used to climb out my bedroom window and down the drainpipe to go dancing.’ She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Every week a different boy walked me home. Once they knew where I lived, they couldn’t keep away. Boys everywhere! Can you imagine? My father used to go mad. He said it was unbecoming for a young lady to enjoy so much attention.’

Katie didn’t know what to say. It was all getting a bit odd. How could someone refuse to talk for hours and then suddenly have the capacity to launch into erotic memories with total eloquence? Katie took a bite of cake so that she wouldn’t have to say anything. It was pretty good for something Chris found lurking in the freezer and she discovered she was starving. She polished her piece off in silence.

She was so busy licking each finger clean that she didn’t notice Mum arrive. It was as if she’d apparated in the doorway and was suddenly standing there leaning on the doorframe watching them all. ‘Everyone all right?’

‘She talks,’ Chris said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. ‘She was only pretending she couldn’t.’

‘Is that right?’

‘And she’s eating.’

Mary looked up at Mum, chewing thoughtfully. ‘Where did you come from?’

‘I had to let work know I wasn’t coming in.’

‘What’s your name?’

Mum didn’t answer, didn’t move from the doorway, like her legs were stuck to the carpet. The only thing that moved was a finger that scratched at the seam of her trouser pocket. She looked exhausted and furious all at once. She looked as if she wanted to
scratch away at that pocket until there was a hole big enough to climb inside.

Seeing them both together in daylight, Katie could see the resemblance. Mary’s hair was mostly white, but there was auburn in it too and Mum’s was the opposite – mostly auburn, with streaks of grey shot through. Mary had an old woman’s hands – the skin veiny, the fingers gnarled. Mum’s had a spattering of brown age spots on the back and Katie knew she felt the first nags of arthritis in the mornings. They had the same blue eyes, the same slim build, even the same heart-shaped faces.
This is how it will be for me
, Katie thought.
I’m going to look like the two of you
. One day her legs would thicken, her hair would whiten, her skin would sag and she’d wither and grow old. It was like seeing the stages of her life laid out.

Mary was still gazing at Mum. ‘I’m absolutely sure I know you from somewhere.’

Chris jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll do introductions.’

‘Don’t,’ Mum said.

But he was wired from the cake and ignored her.

‘Mrs Todd,’ Chris said, jumping to his feet and standing in front of Mary. ‘Please meet Mrs Baxter.’ He waved his arms in Mum’s direction as if he was a game show host. ‘Mum, this is your mother, Mrs Todd.’

‘Sit down, Chris,’ Mum said, glaring at him. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

But Chris didn’t sit. He held out his hand to Mary instead. ‘And my name’s Christopher.’

Mary smiled graciously and took his hand. ‘A pleasure.’

Mum looked as if she was about to stride over and tear them apart.

Chris was pumping Mary’s hand up and down as if he’d never
let go. Both of them were laughing. Mum took a step forward, as if this was just what she’d dreaded. ‘For goodness sake!’

‘Chris,’ Katie said frantically, ‘why don’t you offer the cake round again?’ She leaped up and dragged him by his arm and pointed to the table. ‘Quickly now. It’s over there, look.’

Mum frowned and Katie knew she was wondering where they’d got it from.

‘Freezer,’ she explained. ‘It’s a welcome cake.’

Mum shook her head disapprovingly. She probably expected Katie to have cooked a saucepan of porridge and certainly wouldn’t like them having chocolate gateau for breakfast. She waved Chris away when he held out the plate. ‘Not for me.’

Katie declined as well, though she would have liked some more. Things were hard enough for Mum already. Solidarity was required. Mary and Chris each took another piece.

Katie patted the chair next to her. She’d never seen her mother look so uncomfortable. ‘You want to sit down?’

Mum shook her head. ‘I’ve got to make some calls.’

The clock ticked. Chris and Mary chomped. Mum fiddled with her pocket.

‘So,’ Mum said eventually. ‘Since you’ve decided to communicate, perhaps I can ask if you’d like a bath? I think it’s probably a while since you had one of those, isn’t it?’

‘A bath?’ Mary huffed. She turned to Mum as if she was trying to work out who was giving her such ridiculous instructions. ‘I’m off to visit my daughter actually.’

Mum avoided eye contact, shuffled her feet.

‘She
is
your daughter,’ Katie said gently.

Mary shook her head. ‘My daughter’s a lot younger.’

‘Charming.’ Mum brought her hand out of her pocket and uncurled her fist, examined her fingernails as if they were intriguing,
as if she’d never really noticed them before. Katie felt so sorry for her. All these years without a mother and now one had turned up and it was the saddest reunion ever.

‘She’s your daughter, all grown up,’ Katie said. ‘She’s Caroline.’

Mary stared at Katie, her eyes searching, as if she was trying to work out if she was being tricked. ‘She is?’

‘I promise you.’

‘I sent a man out to find her. He didn’t say anything about her being grown up.’

‘Well, this is all very awkward,’ Mum said. ‘So, if it’s all right with everyone, I think we’ll get on with what we’re all supposed to be doing. Katie, you need to get to school. Chris, you keep an eye on things here.’ She turned to Mary. ‘You might like to listen to the radio? Chris will sort that out for you. I’m going upstairs to phone the hospital.’

Mary looked alarmed. ‘Hospital?’

‘You can’t stay here.’ Mum sounded very sure of this. ‘I’d say they’ve been negligent.’

Chris reached out for another piece of cake. Mum shook her head. ‘No more.’

‘But I’m hungry.’

‘Then have a banana.’

She frowned at him. She meant it. Chris sat on his hands and stuck out his bottom lip. Mum stomped off up the stairs.

Mary looked at Chris, bemused. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘She’s not very nice, is she?’