Waiting for Grace (27 page)

“Well, it was slow at first, it was hard, but I felt like I owed her, by God did I owe her, and I let her down.”

“What? What the hell happened all those years ago?” I frowned at her willing her to tell me. I had yearned for my big sister for so long and now she had sailed in and saved the day, but again was just a mythical creature to me, and nowhere to be seen.

“She made me go to a centre for rehabilitation.” She swallowed hard again. “It was hard there, it was embarrassing being with all those addicts.”

“But you’re an addict,” I spat.

“Not like them,” she shook her head, “some of them, they were the dregs of society, but I tell you what they welcomed me with open arms. I hated it at first, women with tattoos, men with beer bellies, and people who injected heroin.” Her eyes grew wide. “But I tell you what, they were the salt of the earth. We did group therapy together, ate together, exercised together, and we were healed together. I became a Christian.” She looked up to me. “It might sound ridiculous, but those people, and Jesus saved me.”

“Oh, give me strength.” I rolled my eyes.

Robert nudged me. “I think that’s admirable,” he said to her, “that you overcame so much, and that you now have something to believe in.”

“Replacing one obsession for another,” I screeched, looking at him.

“Whatever works.” He shrugged and I shook my head then turned my attention back to mum.

“So Diane, where is she, what happened after you were saved?” I said in a sarcastic tone.

“Well, she helped me sort out my finances and the garage and I found a nice church. I have some friends now, but Diane and I, we don’t really agree, we’re not close, but she calls once a week or so. She can’t really forgive me, she is still so mad about you.”

“About me? Why? Why did she leave all those years ago? Tell me.”

“You see after Dad died I was so lost, he was the boss, he did the bills, and what he said went. I had no one to make my decisions and no one to look after so I just gave in. I’m so sorry.” Her tears fell again.

“You had me to look after,” I barked, tears welling in my eyes.

“That’s why she can’t forgive me,” she looked to her hands, “because I never cared for you and I was supposed to. I was supposed to give you everything. The best start in life that anyone would ever have and I was so desperate for a baby, you were so dearly wanted.”

“Get to the point, Mum,”

“You see she hates me because I’m not your mum, I’m so sorry Grace, but I’m not your birth mother. Diane left because you were her baby, you were her little miracle, and we promised her we would give you everything. We were supposed to give you the life that she couldn’t. She left because she couldn’t watch us bring you up. Jeff convinced her that it was the right thing to do because I wanted a second child so much, but …” she looked to me and my eyes were wide with shock. “He died, Jamie died, and I fell apart, and I didn’t do what I promised. She hates me because I lost you, and she hates me because I failed you.”

I couldn’t breathe. My eyes were wide and the breath completely left my lungs. I looked to Robert and he was just as stunned, tears ran down my face, but I was unable to wipe them or move.

“What?” I gasped, pain etched in my voice. “What?” I screamed, standing, Robert jumping up after me.

“I’m sorry Grace, I should have told you, you should have always known. Diane is your mother and she came back on your eighteenth birthday to meet you.”

“I hate you!” I spat, running from the room with Robert close behind. I bolted to the door and vomit threatened to rise from my stomach. I began to sob as I ripped the front door open and ran to the car. I saw the lights flash as I approached the car, Robert had opened it from behind me and I jumped inside. I saw her follow him outside and they stood shouting. She grabbed his arm as he turned and handed him something that he slid in his pocket. Then he ran to me. The first person in my life I could remember ever showing me love ran to be by my side as I sat in his car and fell apart.  

Twenty-Five

Diane

Twenty-Five Years Earlier

My mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. I adored her, but at sixteen I barely remembered her. All I had were battered photographs and memories that I felt more than I saw. I remembered the warm feeling in my tummy when she cuddled me closely in my little bed, I remembered that she always smelled so beautiful, and that she made sure I was the most loved little girl in the world. She gave me a great start in life, and she taught me how to love. It was a great foundation for the rest of my life. She was there for four short years, but they were the greatest start I could have wished for. She left too soon, died six weeks after being diagnosed with cervical cancer, but I never forgot her, never let myself lose the love that I felt for her in the pit of my stomach.

Irene arrived when I was five. My Dad was a different man after we lost my Mum. He didn’t laugh as much and he spent a lot of time at work, perhaps trying to forget the loss and fight his pain. Irene came along and she filled a void for him and picked up the pieces his wife had left gapingly behind. My Dad had been a carefree thirty-year old and suddenly he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Irene allowed him to shift the weight of his home life and his daughter to her. He became distant, moody, and ruled our home with an iron rod. The lightness that my mother had encouraged died with her, and Irene accepted the strong, control freak she adored. He, in turn, saved her from being a lonely spinster.

I had a great life. I was my mother’s daughter, all right. I was the only one who could muster a smile from my Dad, and despite Irene’s coldness she managed to do one thing right and gave me my gorgeous baby brother, Jamie. I was a rebellious teenager in the early eighties. I had dreams of being a star, I wore too much make-up that I applied for hours in my bedroom mirror, I wanted to be Madonna and Irene was horrified. Her life growing up on a farm with older parents didn’t allow for many liberal thoughts. I loved my life; my friends and I knew that I had the looks to be a movie star.

I wanted for nothing, my Dad was a big deal and owned his own garage where he ran a tight ship. He made sure that I had what I needed and indulged my wants as long as I asked nicely. Irene would roll her eyes and shake her head when my Dad indulged my latest whim, but I was his only daughter and had the face of my dead mother, which he could never forget. The only rule that both my parents agreed on was that I wasn’t allowed to go out with boys. I was happy to obey as no one I knew at school was good enough for me and I had my sights set on drama school. Why would I go out with spotty boys when I had movie stars in my future?

It was a cold, wet, September day when I first met Carl McGregor. I was running through town to get home for my dinner, and he was leaning up against a shop doorway having a cigarette. The last few days of summer were lingering, the rain fell but it was not cold and it seemed to be the start of a thunderstorm. I had never seen him before and didn’t notice him much that day except that as I ran in my candy-striped summer dress and wedges, I slipped. I could feel myself fall, but he jumped from his relaxed stance and strong arms stopped me from falling.

“Steady,” he said, smiling down at me. He was easily over six feet tall and even in my wedges I was nowhere near his height. He had dark hair that was cut short, green eyes that bored into me, and a smile that would make a nun blush.

“Thanks,” I said, the rain falling harder around us.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Carl,” he introduced himself as he shoved his hand out towards me.

“Diane,” I smiled, “you new in town?”

“Is it the accent that gives it away?” he laughed, the rain falling onto his thick dark lashes as he blinked it away, “I’m from Paisley, Scotland.” He said, “Training to be a butcher, in this shop here.” He pointed back to the stoop where he had just been smoking. “Live above the shop.”

“Oh,” I said, blinking rain away myself. “Well nice to meet you, Carl.” I smiled.

“How about I give you a lift home?” he asked, “Don’t want you slipping in the rain again.” He grinned.

“Oh, I can’t accept a ride from a stranger.” I smiled politely. “See you around,” I said hastily, running off again into the rain and struggling to get the mysterious stranger out of my head.

For the next few weeks I made sure to pass the butcher’s shop looking adorable with full make-up and high heels. I started college that September to study drama and dance. My Dad wanted me to do something more studious, but he accepted my choices. My friends were all crushing on the most attractive guys at school, but I had something much more interesting in my sights, a real man with a job and who looked like a man, not a boy. Of course, him being from out of town and his accent helped the attraction. He was an unknown quantity. I caught glimpses of him in the shop, catching his eye a few times, but I never went in and I wouldn’t.
 

One Saturday in October I made my way to my Dad’s garage to convince him that I needed some shiny black leggings for a party with my friend Michelle that night. He was busy, but seemed pleased to see me. My long, dark hair hung down my back, with an oversized pink bow over the top of my head. The men that worked for Dad always made a fuss of me and I lapped up the attention. Dad gave me the money and the bus fare into Blackpool to go shopping, shooing me away from the glances of his mechanics.

As I left the garage I saw Carl leaning on a nearby wall, I hid a smile and walked past him. “Hi,” he said, a smile on his face.

“Hello,” I said casually continuing to walk and he jumped in step beside me. “Have you been waiting for me?”

“Yes.” He grinned.

“And how did you know where to wait?”

“I did some research.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“I asked who the prettiest girl in town was, the one that kept walking past the shop and they said you.”

“And?”

“And how about I take you out?”

“Sorry,” I said, looking up to him through my lashes into his tall frame. “I’m not allowed to go out with boys, I’m too young and they only mean trouble.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, in a teasing tone. “Then how about I just hang out with you today, and we don’t go out, is that allowed?”

“Are you any good at shopping?” I said with my head cocked to the side.

“Sure am,” he said, “the best.”

***

After that, Carl and I didn’t go out together, because I wasn’t allowed, but we met in secret at his flat. It was so exciting and dangerous and at eighteen Carl was so much more grown up than any boys I had known. He had a weathered look and had definitely lived a harsher life than I had enjoyed. He might have seemed trouble at first, leaning against that door frame smoking, but deep down he was a gentle giant. My parents trusted me and didn’t suspect a thing and after Christmas that year we had sex for the first time. What I couldn’t have known then was that after the third or fourth time of having sex, I was pregnant.

We spent so much time in his flat just watching television, eating dinner, listening to music, and playing board games that the sex thing just seemed to happen, naturally. Everything about Carl made butterflies flit around my stomach. Just the sight of him after hours apart made me crave him. It was an August night that summer that Carl asked me if I was pregnant. I had gained weight, but I assumed it was happening because I wasn’t dancing as much because it was summer. I was so angry, fuming in fact, and I stormed out of his flat and accused him of calling me fat. I walked home in a rage but started to wonder if what he was saying made sense, we hadn’t been careful, and my stomach was carrying a lot of the weight. I decided to ignore it until I was sure.

A few weeks passed and Carl broached the subject again, but I was terrified to admit that he was right. I had felt the baby move, but was just wishing it away. My parents would kill me and what on Earth did Carl have to offer me, the life of a butcher’s wife? I wanted to be the next Audrey Hepburn. When I started school again, I was too fat for any of my dancing costumes and so just attended drama classes, spending less and less time with Carl, ignoring him, in fact. I didn’t walk past the shop anymore and I certainly didn’t go ‘round to his flat. He had no way of contacting me and so I hid away.

By October I was huge but hiding it well under baggy clothes and high-waisted trousers. In the corridor one day I noticed one of my old high school teachers, Miss Snow, now Mrs Banford. She was pregnant and proudly displaying her bump like I couldn’t, so I decided to ask her for some advice, I didn’t have many more options.

“Erm … Mrs Banford,” I said, approaching her in the corridor, “please may I have a word?”

“Of course.” She smiled kindly.

We retreated into an empty classroom and I began to cry. “I’m pregnant,” I whispered, “I just don’t know what to do.” She looked at me and then my stomach and the shock registered on her face.

“Oh, Diane.” She hugged me and held me to her rounding stomach. I let her hold me, no one had for such a long time. “Come here, hun, it’s never as bad as you think sweetheart, this really isn’t going to go away, and I think we need to tell someone.”

“No,” I swiped the tears away, “my parents will freak, I can’t tell them, they’ll kill me.”

“Diane,” she soothed, “parents rarely react as badly to these things as we think, give them some credit, they love you and want the best for you and once this baby arrives I am sure they will love it just as much as they do you. Now I would strongly advise that you tell them, and I’m sure it’ll all be okay.” She laid her arm over my shoulder and we discussed it some more.

That night I told my dad and he never looked me in the eye again.

***

I didn’t get the chance to tell Carl. I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. The doctor confirmed that my baby was due in less than a month, and so I was sent to stay with Irene’s Auntie Agnes in Southampton to have the baby. It wasn’t hell. She was nice, a little old fashioned, and quite judgmental, but she looked after me, and I was company for her for a few weeks. Being there gave me a chance to breathe and think about what I really wanted. My Dad was definitely the boss and going against him was the last thing you did. He would never forgive me for doing this, but his solution made everything okay. Irene was desperate for another child. This baby would be that, and I would return to college and go away to university as planned. Everyone would just think the baby was adopted. I had to agree that it solved all my issues and to be honest, I couldn’t wait to expel the foetus just so it would be over and done with.

The problem arose when I had my baby girl at Aunt Agnes’s home, and when they gave her to me I instantly fell in love. She was perfect and she looked just like big, strong Carl. My Carl, oh God. I adored her and we stayed a week with Aunt Agnes where I breast fed her, dressed her, loved her. It was hard. I was exhausted, but she was mine. Dad picked us up after that week, and I tried to say I wanted to keep her, tried to utter the words but nothing came out. You didn’t defy Jeff Cooper and I was lucky I had survived, thus far. Irene doted on the baby, when they arrived Irene wanted to call her Rachel, but I had already named her. “It’s Grace Amelia,” I snapped. “You get my baby, but I get the name.” Irene showed some uncharacteristic compassion and smiled at me with sympathy, nodding.

“Grace is good and strong.”

“It was my mother’s middle name and Amelia is a little like Alma, don’t you think?” I said, staring down at my daughter in my arms. She nodded again and smiled slightly, nothing more was ever said on the matter.

***

After a week at home I was back at college, but every night when Grace cried I wanted to be the one who soothed her. At night I would lie in bed and sob silently as I heard Irene walking the corridor with my Grace. My room used to be the joyous room of a teenager in love with Carl McGregor, in love with life, and the movies, but now it was just a reminder of the stupid kid I used to be. A week was all it took and one night after dinner I went to Carl. My Dad hadn’t even asked whom the boy was, that would be too much of a conversation for him, and I don’t think he actually cared. I was ruined in his eyes now, anyway.

“Diane,” Carl said, shocked to see me at the door.

“I need to get away,” I said, marching inside.

“What?”

“I need to leave this town, never come back and I want you to take me, you owe me that.”

“What? No hello, no sorry, no explanation. Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Look Carl, you got me pregnant, you ruined my life, and I need to get the hell away.”

“Oh so you admit now you had my baby and where the hell is my baby by the way?” he screamed. “I deserve an explanation, Diane, you just disappear and you break my fucking heart and now you’re here demanding all sorts.”

I began to cry, I broke down in front of him and sobbed. Sobbed in front of the only other person who truly knew my secret, and I let myself go. “It was a girl, I named her Grace; my dad and step mother are going to keep her.”

“What?” he gasped. “You gave her away, without even asking me?”

“I’m sorry,” I shook my head and the tears fell heavier, as I sank to the floor. “She's so beautiful Carl, so perfect, she deserves better than what I have to give.”