Waiting for Grace (26 page)

I sat on the bed and was still taking it all in when Robert came in. He smiled at me sheepishly. “Should we move her?” he whispered.

I shook my head. “No, I think I need a cuddle after today.”

We both silently undressed and stepped into pyjamas, or in Robert’s case, a t-shirt and boxer shorts. He didn’t really watch me, nor I him, but we had known each other so well before, that it wouldn’t be awkward. He turned the soft bedside light on, and we both climbed into his double bed, his arm out for me to curl into just like so many times before. He kissed my head and I breathed him in, hugging him and laying my head on his chest.

“I never thought we’d be here again,” I said.

“I hoped,” he whispered, “and now here we are with our daughter asleep feet away.”

“It feels so weird being back, but I like it, feels like being home in a weird way.”

“Because you are, you may not want it, and may have run from it, but this town and everything in it is your home and always will be no matter how hard you try to push it away.”

“Suppose so.”

He pulled me tighter to him and kissed me again. This time I tipped my head back and he kissed my lips. He turned the light out. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever,” he said.

“I have a good feeling, too.” I smiled, but he couldn’t see me in the dark. In Robert’s arms I felt safe, I always had and everything about his smell, his warmth, his body was just so right. My body was aware of every movement he made, and it made me feel like a teenager again. Of course nothing would happen with Devon in the room, but if I had doubted my feelings for Robert now, these hugs, this closeness blew that out of the water. He was everything I had ever wanted and now lying in his bed I knew there would never be anyone else that made me feel this complete. Even if I was damaged and no one’s idea of perfection, he was mine, and I still wasn’t sure I deserved it.

Twenty-Three

Seven Years Earlier

Pain.

Breathe.

Pain
.

I turned in that train station and walked away from Robert on unsteady feet that allowed me the illusion of steadiness. Thank you, feet. I was angry, I was hurt, and I was bleeding inside. There was nothing on the outside to suggest how my body was reacting, blood pumping, heart thudding, and my brain swimming with thoughts. I had been so good at being alone that I cursed myself for depending on him. Pain, it was constant, breathe, I told myself. No one here knew, no one could tell I was alone, but I suddenly felt so exposed I could be naked. I had to remind myself that I looked like any other person walking through this station. No one would know what had just happened to me. I would know, though, and I would always feel that pain. It didn’t feel like the sort of pain that would shift. Betrayal, anger, disgust and pity, Robert felt it all. He had hidden it so well but never been honest, at least my mother had always shown her disdain for me, but Robert had tried to save me, and that made it so much worse.

From that moment I knew I was truly alone. Before there had been the illusion of other people around even if they didn’t care, but at least they knew me. Here I was truly alone and it felt … perfect. No one to ask questions, no one to test my patience, no one else to think about, just me, and it was liberating. The anger forced me forwards, I was scared, but I was determined. Robert had just been the icing on the cake for me. I was Grace Cooper and I was going to rise from the ashes. I didn’t need him or Mum or anyone else. I was going to make it and I would never need any of them ever again.

I made it back to the hostel, holding back tears. I booked a room for one more night in a different name in case he came looking and then set about finding myself somewhere more permanent and a job. Rage kept me moving. Every time I felt alone I remembered Robert’s words,
I swooped in and saved you from a life full of nothing, I have offered you an alternative to that lunatic you live with, allowed you to be part of my life, risked the wrath of my mother to take you on the summer of your life and after all you just want to be the dosser you were supposed to be
. He really was an arrogant prick assuming that I needed him. I didn’t need anyone and I certainly didn’t need to return home to be just like him. I didn’t want to go to university and be like everyone else. I wanted independence and to find my own way in life. He had been told which path to follow, but no one had told me, and I was damned if I’d start listening now.

I didn’t think of home, didn’t yearn for it at all, and I was still completely in awe of my new surroundings. I had a limited amount of money from Mum and needed to make that last, so I had to be frugal. I had minimal clothes and they were all summer clothes. I needed a cheap place to stay and perhaps some work clothes when I found a job, so I needed to plan. I was in survival mode. The day after Robert left I was working on adrenalin, pushing ahead and not facing the fact that he had gone. I told myself that this was the best way, and we were too different to have ever made it work. I was messed up and he was too normal. I decided to speak to the hostel owner, not telling him that I was now alone, but inquiring about reasonable long-term accommodations for my boyfriend and me. The last thing I wanted was unwelcome attention if people knew I was alone. He gave me some numbers to call and also some tips as to where to look. Eventually I found someone who owned some bedsits in Kings Cross. It wasn’t the best area, but they were available straight away. I would pay weekly and only had to pay one week upfront. Also, they were furnished.

I made my way over there for 2 pm and by 3 pm. I had the keys and a new landlord named Mr Raati. He seemed nice enough, however the bedsit was pretty disgusting, but I didn’t plan on staying long. I had only paid him £160 for two weeks. The bedsit was furnished, but I needed sheets and toiletries since Robert and I had dumped everything, including our camping sleeping bags because we were going home. I found a nearby supermarket and managed to get some bedding and toiletries that weighed me down on my way back to the bedsit. All utilities were included because it was a large building that had been split into about thirty bedsits, so I got as comfortable as I could in the dated, threadbare, velvet heaven. Only once I had a place to call my own that I felt safe in, did I really let myself go. The survival mode that had thrust me forward was now disintegrating around me.

I sat watching
Coronation Street
and eating the snacks that I had bought, not having eaten a full meal for days, and a sudden feeling of dread settled over me that I couldn’t shake. Then the pain came back. Since leaving the station the day before, numbness had got me through, but now I could relax, the pain returned. I began to cry quietly at first, looking around my new home and weeping for everything that I had never had. Then the sobs came in waves of emotion of everything I should have had, but was never able to touch, and then I just gave in and fell into my new sheets screaming in pain. 

Why had my life unravelled? Why me? On paper, Grace Amelia Cooper had the perfect start in life, born to established parents who had everything that a child could want, a big brother and a big sister. She should have been doted on. Instead, my family were torn apart by teenage runaways, death, and alcoholism. It just didn’t seem fair. I mourned for the poor girl who was supposed to have the perfect life and cried for the years that I had been ignored. Why was I not enough for my mother? Why couldn’t she have tried to live a normal life for me? Why did my family have to fall apart? Then I wailed for the physical ache that Robert had left behind. Yes, I was damaged, yes, I had issues, and yes, my life was far from normal, but Robert had made me forget that. He made me feel normal, wanted, and loved for the first time in my memory, and then yesterday he had ripped that away.

My life had been so full of loss and anger, that I had become numb. I had forgotten how to feel, but Robert had allowed me to feel again and taught me to love. Now I was left with a gaping hole where my heart used to be and a feeling of loss that I had never felt before. I sobbed and there was nothing to do except let it take hold of me until it passed.

At some point in the night I fell asleep. I didn’t sleep for long and when I awoke I was lost again. This continued for three days, where I felt the worst pain imaginable and realised that there was no one I could call, no one who actually gave a damn and in reality I only had myself to count on. Once I started to think like that I could actually start to rebuild myself, from the heart out. I reasoned that this was the best thing. I could have the life I wanted and so could Robert. This was inevitable, and so the fact that it had happened now rather than if I had returned home, was better. I could start a new life here and blend into the background. I hardened my heart and pushed Robert out. I stopped worrying about who I should have been and accepted who I was. I didn’t need anyone; I was strong. I took a shower after four days, dressed, and gave myself a serious talking to. I needed my armour and I needed to look good to get a job. By the end of the first week I still cried myself to sleep, but where the old Grace used to be, a hardened version stood in her place.

After that week, I started to fight back. I still felt the pain and missed Robert, but I couldn’t help remembering how worthless he had made me feel at the train station, and that helped. I eventually found a job working at a hotel in the city centre as a housemaid, changing beds and cleaning bathrooms. It wasn’t glamorous, but I was lucky to have got it, and I could have all the shifts I wanted. I wanted a lot. I needed to be busy. I needed to be tired and exhausted just to be able to sleep. I barely ate, all I thought about was Robert, his touch, his kisses, and how safe he had always made me feel, but that was all gone. He had left me exposed.

I didn’t worry about being alone. I didn’t have time to panic about the dangers of walking back to my bedsit after dark, or spending nights alone in the bustling building I lived in without a deadlock. I slunk around, buried deep in a pink duffle coat that I had bought from a charity shop. I lost weight I was lank and withdrawn, and I wondered if anyone else had as little to live for as I did. Some days I didn’t speak to anyone and some days I didn’t notice. I gave up on my dream of finding Diane. I decided that if I was supposed to be surrounded by people then it wouldn’t be so damn hard to find them. So I stopped. If people wanted me they would show me and not keep pushing me away. I was low. I was broken.

A month in I started to notice things, small at first, like the women I saw at work at the clocking machine every day. So I began nodding hello when they did. I also noticed the route to work on the bus passed so many amazing buildings that I only ever saw on television. I also noticed that the television in my bedsit didn’t have Channel 4, it was puzzling, and I was so sure I had watched it before, but it was true. I noticed that Londoners were fairly rude and bumping into strangers without saying “sorry” was standard, so I stopped saying “sorry,” too.

It took six weeks, but eventually I decided to revisit Ange. True I had lost hope of finding Diane and really if she had wanted to stay in contact with me beyond birthday cards, it would have been easy. I couldn’t blame her for running a mile from our parents, but I couldn’t rely on her saving me anymore, either. I was miserable, had grown up miserable, but only I could solve that. Somehow, after the depths of my desperation, I was finally finding someone to count on - me. So I decided to visit Ange in case she ever did try to call, and also for some closure, to finally admit that there was nothing else I could do.

I reached Ange’s place via the underground again on a Thursday at lunchtime. I rang the bell and there was no answer. There was a chill in the October air and I pulled my coat tighter around myself, mentally noting that gloves and scarves would be required soon. I rang her bell and waited. Nothing. I rang again and then peeked in the window. The place was bare and I gasped.

“Dead,” someone said from behind me. “She’s dead.”

I turned to find another old lady standing behind me, “Oh?” I asked shyly, “Ange? Dead?”

“Sorry,” she said, cocking her head to the side, her tight grey curls unmoved by the movement. “You close?”

“No,” I shook my head, “no and now I’ll never know.”

She smiled at me as I walked out of the front yard and back to the road. I marched back to the underground and found it quite fitting that it had ended this way. It was karma, I wasn’t supposed to be surrounded with loved ones, I was always supposed to be alone. Heck, just by going there in the first place I probably sealed poor old Ange’s fate. I ate a meal that night and plucked my eyebrows for the first time in two months. I started to take some pride in myself again, and finally started to think that I could survive. I will survive and one day someone will love me and won’t judge me. They’ll always want me around and never betray me. Little did I know that that one person was already growing inside of me.

Twenty-Four

Now

Christmas at the Banford’s turned out to be magical, especially for Devon. I kept in touch with Maria to make sure she was safe, and she was as busy as she had promised. After our night in the pub it was all systems go and there were family and friends coming and going from Barbara and Bob’s house through a revolving door. Each one had a gift, some alcohol, stories to tell, and if they thought it was strange that a six-year old girl was running around they never said. Barbara was great at spreading the word and I’m sure everybody knew our story. Devon loved all the activity, the different people, and the attention that the boys gave her constantly. They educated her on their favourite Christmas films and dragged toys and games out of the attic that they had enjoyed as boys. Robert got his old cars out, but Devon wasn’t really interested. She probably would have been happier with the toys that were in the Cooper attic not far from where she sat, but she would have to make the best of it.

On Christmas Eve, Uncle Terry and his new girlfriend, Jean, made an impromptu visit, a night earlier than expected and also the Watts were back. The next-door neighbours and their teenage children came ‘round and again Owen’s friend, who wasn’t his girlfriend, Lucy, was there. The massive extended kitchen made a perfect party room and Barbara made some chilli, curry, and nibbles from the freezer, which I helped her organise. The alcohol was flowing. Karaoke was set up, card games were ongoing, and Owen was still trying to get Devon to enjoy Hungry Hippos. It was great. Even I was enjoying the crowd and I loved it when my eyes would meet Robert across the room and he would smile. He looked at me like only he could, in that look he said it all. I love you. I’m glad you’re here and look how happy we are. This seemed to make sense and maybe I wasn’t actually as damaged as I thought. I’d spent so many years hardening myself to other people and only letting Maria in, remembering such a horrible life back here, but perhaps it was only so terrible because I was so young. As an adult I can see that everyone has struggles that they need to overcome and that doesn’t always make you fucked up, maybe just human.

After a few drinks I did start to think about my mum. Would she be alone tonight and tomorrow? Had she straightened herself out? Had she met a new man? Was she sober? There were so many unanswered questions and so many variables. I had never given her the option to make things right, just as I hadn’t given Robert that option. I had hidden myself away, cut them all off and maybe, just maybe I should accept that she raised me, and I wouldn’t be who I am today without the lessons she taught me. I sipped my wine and took a piece of prawn toast from one of the platters. Robert came up behind me and kissed my neck softly.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I turned into him and kissed him. “I’m just thinking that maybe I should see Mum.”

His eyes were wide with shock. “Oh, great,” he said. “I think that would be great.”

“You do? Well what if she hasn’t changed? What if she’s still a complete waste of space and pissed out of her brain? What if she tells me to fuck off?”

“Then you’ll know,” he kissed my nose, “and if she does that, then she’s the biggest fool alive.”

“I suppose if I don’t go, I’ll never know.”

“Exactly, and if you face her now and she’s not like that anymore then maybe you two could make peace.”

“Maybe,” I sighed. “But not everyone is as perfect as the Banfords so don’t hold your breath.”

He pulled me to him and I felt safe and cherished once more.

***

Christmas Day was much of the same, lots of visitors, a huge meal, more nibbles later on, with card games, and karaoke until late. Devon fell asleep on my knee by 9 pm, and I just held her to me whilst everyone buzzed around. She was so beautiful and so perfect, that I couldn’t help but stare at her as I stroked her blonde hair.

“She’s an angel,” Barbara said, sitting down next to me, gin and tonic in hand.

“Sure is,” I sighed.

“She’s exactly how I thought a little girl of my own would look.”

“Did you want a girl?”

“Oh I don’t know,” she took a sip and stroked Devon’s face lightly, “we never found out the sex of any of our four. I always wanted four children and so we didn’t keep going for a girl, but I suppose I thought one of my children would be.” She placed her arm around me and gave me a squeeze.

“I suppose daughters are always supposed to be close to their mums, go shopping, play dolls and house, but my mum and I were never that close.”

“That’s a shame, Grace, as I know you are an excellent daughter.”

“You think?” I smiled.

“Of course, you always watched out for that woman despite how horrendous she could be. You were independent, beautiful, so polite and someone that any mother would be proud of.”

I grinned a little shyly. “Well thanks Barbara, you are a great mum, you know. The boys adore you, and I was always amazed at how much you did for them, it must have been back breaking.”

“Still is,” she laughed, “I think I mothered them a bit too much, now they can’t do anything for themselves … except my Robert. You were a good influence on him, you made him more independent, more like you.”

“That’s kind of you, but he’s so much better than me, look what he’s achieved, so clever, so determined and driven.”

“Grace,” she squeezed me again, “he has a career and money and a flashy car, but you have achieved something that takes real effort, patience, and is the hardest job in the world … that’s being a wonderful mother to the world’s most amazing little girl.”

“Now I know you’re drunk.” I laughed.

“In all seriousness Grace, what you did, making a life for yourself, going to university, working hard and bringing up Devon, you should be so proud.”

“Thanks.” I sipped my wine. “I’m thinking of going to see my mum tomorrow, just to say hello.”

“Oh really?” she turned to me with a wide smile. “I think you should, I do think she’s much better and roots are so important for us all.”

***

The next day I had decided just to go. I would rip this plaster off and finally face my mother after all these years. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to gain; did I want a mum? Did I want a family? Or did I just want to make sure that I had made the right decision leaving her behind all those years ago? Even though the house wasn’t far, Robert was going to drive me as it was so cold and I wanted a quick getaway if required. Robert was going to come with me for moral support and Devon would stay with Barbara and Bob. I decided to go mid afternoon, that was always her early drinking time when she would be conscious enough to open the door, but if she was still drinking I would definitely know. We turned into my old street about 4 pm and I stiffened as we did. Robert placed his hand on my lap and gave it a squeeze.

“You can do this,” he said.

We pulled onto the small street, quiet as always with only a few grand houses scattered around. I notice that Mrs Jones’s house had had some work, an extension, the large porch was gone, and the garage built into the house as a two-story extension. So she must have died or sold the house to move to a flat or a smaller bungalow. She was a kind old lady and always cared for me without making it obvious, so I would accept her help. I felt a tinge of sadness that she may be gone. The car stopped and I took in the view of the house that I used to live in. Straight away I could see a difference. The previously wayward front garden seemed tamed and some old trees were either severely cut back or gone. Without the overhang of the branches it almost looked inviting, rather than a rambling haunted house. There was a new gleaming red front door and neat, red brick had replaced the broken tarmac of the driveway. The windows were now white PVC rather than white wood, and the outside had had a lick of white paint, maybe a while ago, but it had still been spruced up since I lived here.

“She can’t live here anymore,” I said, trying to turn away as Robert followed me to the door. “This house must be owned by someone new, it looks amazing.” I turned into Robert and he looked into my eyes.

“Let’s just knock.”

“No,” I shook my head, “I can’t knock and then this be another wild goose chase like Diane.”

“We’ve come this far,” he said.

I turned back, he was right I had to knock, at least find out if they knew where she was. Then, as I did, the door was yanked open and there she was. My mother stood in the lit doorway, her mouth agape.

“Grace,” she yelped, making her way towards me. I took a step back and bumped into Robert as she charged my way. She reached me and took my face in her hands, her breath didn’t smell of alcohol and her eyes weren’t glassy from drink, but from some other emotion that I couldn’t place.

“Grace,” she said again, “Gosh, you look …. so grown up.”

I pulled out of her grasp, “Hi mum,” I said awkwardly. “Erm … you remember Robert.” She looked to him and he held his hand out, she shook it and smiled. She didn’t recognise him as well as she should, but she was never really sober when he was around.

“Merry Christmas,” she chattered excitedly, “Please, please, come in.” She put her arm around me and led me towards the house and I moved forward in a daze. There was something different about her and things had definitely changed, but I wasn’t sure that it would ever be enough.

***

Ten minutes later we sat in her living room, Robert and I sat next to each other on the sofa whilst she made a cup of tea in the kitchen. The house was quiet and surprisingly warm and not how I had remembered it.

“This is weird,” I whispered, leaning into him.

“Why?” he whispered back.

“Because, this house,” I motioned to the room, “her,” I pointed towards the kitchen, “it’s all different.”

“It has been seven years,” he said.

“I lived with her for seventeen years, Robert, and no change.” I rolled my eyes, “She’s decorated every room,” I looked around the living room, “and the outside, it’s like a different house.”

“And she’s not drunk.” He raised an eyebrow and as he did she walked back in with a tray and three steaming china cups of tea on saucers. I had never seen her use china before.

“So,” I said, gaining some strength and taking my tea from the tray, “this is different.”

She smiled and held her cup and saucer on her knee, “The house?” she asked innocently.

“No, you,” I said with a tight mouth, holding my anger at bay. “You seem …. Normal,” I said. Robert could sense my irritation and laid his hand on mine.

“I am normal.” She looked at me with a tight smile and shook her head.

“Let’s not pretend, Mum, let’s not pretend that when I lived here with you that this house wasn’t falling down around us and you weren’t a mess.”

She shook her head slightly again and looked down, “Grace …” she began calmly.

“Let’s not pretend,” I raised my voice, “that you weren’t always drunk and that you cared where I was and what I was doing and that I didn’t have to bring myself up.”

Tears filled her eyes as she looked up to me. “Grace, I …” she began unsteadily.

“I’m not sure what you can say that will make anything okay.” My voice fell and the hurt was apparent.

“Grace, for what it’s worth, I am sorry and I would very much like a chance to explain. Maybe to … make up for everything.” She looked at me closely and watched me breathe out, my frustration was obvious and Robert held my hand tighter.

“Fine, explain and don’t miss out how you could change after I left, but not whilst I was here.”

“Well,” she swallowed hard. “Well, you see after you left, after you went, you are right I was a mess a complete mess and my life was worthless, I was worthless and a terrible mother. I didn’t even know what day it was and I didn’t realise that you hadn’t come home that summer. That is when Diane came back.”

“What?” I almost choked on my tea. “What? She came back, where is she?”

“Oh well,” she was flustered, my sudden interest worried her and she squirmed in her chair. “She doesn’t live around here but we are … in touch.”

“Well, why did she come back? Where is she now? What happened?”

“One question at a time Grace,” she sighed angrily, “she came back one November day and it was cold, very cold and I was in one of my usual states. It was very unfortunate, it was awful, in fact,” she swallowed hard, “of course she had no idea about your dad, Jamie, everything, and she was very angry, upset, distraught, all of it. She fell apart.”

I looked to Robert and he gave me a small smile, we turned back to Mum. “She couldn’t believe that I had just let myself go, she couldn’t believe that I had let the house fall to wrack and ruin, and of course when I told her that I had no idea where you were she was fuming. So angry.” She shook her head, and wiped away quick tears.

“It was a terrible day, but the start of a new life for me. I was so ashamed, so low, so broken, and we both just sat in the hallway and cried.”

“So what happened then?” I asked, “How did Diane make everything better that I couldn’t?” I was bitter again and I felt sick that someone else could make my mum be the person I had begged her time and time again to be.