Читать книгу Where I Found You - Amanda Brooke, Amanda Brooke - Страница 12

Maggie stirred her tea as she sat perched at the breakfast bar. It was Saturday afternoon and the house was quiet, unlike her thoughts. After Mrs Milton’s visit earlier that week, she had been left shell-shocked and not a little ashamed. She should have known immediately that Elsa wasn’t the young woman she claimed to be. Even without the benefit of sight, her perceptions were better than that but whereas Alice had coaxed Elsie out of her fug when they had met, Maggie had only reinforced the old lady’s illusory world, leaving her even more confused.

To make matters worse, Maggie felt completely impotent. Mrs Milton would not be returning to the salon despite her assurances to the contrary. She had said her piece and now she wanted to draw a line under the past while that choice remained in her control. There was nothing else Maggie could do except ponder Elsa’s fate and grieve the loss of a friendship that, for the briefest time, had made her feel less alone.

There was one good thing to come from the whole mess: failing Mrs Milton had made her all the more determined not to fail anyone else, not least the baby growing inside her. She could still hear the raw pain in Elsa’s voice as she contemplated giving up her child and behind it that fierce love that only a parent could know. It was that inner strength that prompted her to make one particular call that was well overdue.

‘Hello? Are you there?’

The only reply was the combined sound of shuffling and heavy breathing.

‘Dad? It’s Maggie,’ she said.

She could hear shuffling footfalls as the person on the other end of the phone, no doubt her father, went in search of assistance. Stan had moved to Spain not long after Maggie’s wedding and she had given him a mobile phone so that they could keep in touch. Her dad was hard of hearing and technology wasn’t his strong point so he always seemed mildly annoyed when the phone started to vibrate and disturb his peace. ‘This thing isn’t working again,’ he growled.

‘Come here, Stan.’ It was the matronly voice of Maggie’s aunt. Dot was ten years Stan’s junior, which put her in her late sixties, a spring chicken compared to Stan in body and in mind. The sound of metal scraping against the handset suggested that Dot’s ring-embellished hand had pulled it from Stan’s grasp.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi Dot, it’s Maggie. I take it he hasn’t switched on his hearing aids.’

‘It’s your daughter,’ Dot said loudly before turning her attention to the caller. ‘I swear I don’t know why he even bothers to wear them. How are you, love? Any news?’

‘I just wanted to speak to Dad,’ Maggie said as casually as she could, her pulse racing.

There was a curt exchange between brother and sister and a short pause as everyone waited for Stan’s hearing aids to be switched on. After an interminable wait, the phone was handed back to her dad.

‘I wear them as earplugs to drown out your chatter,’ Stan told Dot gruffly then said to Maggie, ‘Hello, sweetheart.’

‘Hello, Dad. I haven’t interrupted anything, have I?’

‘No, of course not. I was just sitting outside on the porch playing solitaire.’

‘It’s not a porch, it’s a veranda!’ Dot called.

Stan tutted. ‘Sorry about the interference on the line, love. Bear with me; I’ll take the phone out on to the porch.’

Maggie held her smile as she listened to her dad’s laboured shuffling, more confirmation that it was better for him to be too far away to insist on being more hands-on in his daughter’s life. Her parents had both been in their forties when Maggie came along and their maturity and patience had been a crucial factor in her development, but time had marched on and Stan’s hearing wasn’t the only thing to have deteriorated in recent years. They had each been set adrift when Joan died and had needed to find new anchors. Maggie already had James so it had been a godsend when Dot offered to take Stan under her wing.

‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘So, how are things with you? What’s the weather like over there?’

‘It’s teeming down at the moment,’ Maggie told him knowing how pleased he would be by the news. It dampened his homesickness and she had been known to occasionally embellish the bleakness of the British weather for his benefit.

‘Never mind, it’s warming up nicely here. Warm enough for a bit of sunbathing if Dot didn’t insist on slapping on two layers of sun block every time I step out of the shade. That stuff stinks to high heaven.’

‘She’s only looking after you.’

‘No wonder Jim spends half his time on the golf course.’

‘You’re still not tempted to take it up yourself then?’

‘Someone’s got to keep the old girl company,’ he said. It was the closest Stan would ever come to admitting a reluctant affection for his sister.

‘The golf widow and the widower, a perfect team,’ Maggie said. She was playing for time, trying to decide when and how to break the news but the words came out before she could hold them back. ‘Dad, I’m going to have a baby.’

At first it was only the shuddering gasp that gave Maggie any clue to her dad’s reaction but it was enough. It was a mixture of joy and sadness at receiving the long-awaited announcement, the release of years of frustrations and fears that his daughter might never achieve the kind of completeness she had longed for since she was a little girl. ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he said at last, a sniff exposing the tears that would be welling in his eyes.

‘I’m only four months pregnant so there’s a bit of a wait yet,’ Maggie said as her own tears slipped down her cheeks.

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he repeated but this time there was a note of regret in his voice.

For a moment, Maggie considered the possibility that he was about to reproach her in the same way that Judith had. ‘Dad? You are happy about it, aren’t you?’

‘Happy? Of course I am, Maggie. I couldn’t be happier,’ Stan said and his smile beamed across the miles. He started laughing. ‘I can’t believe it. Really, I just can’t believe it. I’m going to be a granddad!’

There was a squeal of delight somewhere in the background and then Dot was there, gushing with excitement as she wrestled the phone from Stan. Maggie was laughing and crying as the two began talking at once, asking questions and barely listening to the answers as their opponent interjected with the next question. Even her Uncle Jim’s voice was added to the mêlée and it took almost half an hour before the tidal wave of excitement settled into a satisfied lull.

‘I wish your mum was here to enjoy the moment too,’ Stan said when he had his daughter to himself. His voice was the barest of whispers as if it was a confession he didn’t want to reveal.

‘Me too, Dad. I could do with her guiding arm right now.’

‘I should come home. I’ll check the flights.’

Yes, please come home, she wanted to say and was thankful she had waited until she felt strong enough to hold back the urge. ‘No, Dad, I’m fine. Mum spent her life preparing me for this by showing me first-hand how to be a good mum. I’ll try not to let her down.’

‘You are your mother’s daughter.’

‘That’s some compliment. But you can expect loads more calls from me in the next few months because I might need you to keep reminding me of that,’ she said.

‘Anytime, day or night.’

‘As long as you’ve got your hearing aid switched on,’ she reminded him.

‘Yes, you’re definitely your mother’s daughter!’

Maggie wasn’t only smiling now; she was practically glowing. ‘Thanks, Dad.’ She was about to end the call but found herself returning to an obsession she hadn’t quite relinquished. ‘Before I go, could I pick your brain?’

‘You can try.’

‘Do you remember a greengrocer’s in Sedgefield called Flo’s Fruit and Veg? It would have been around in the fifties.’

Stan muttered to himself as he put his memory to the test. ‘Your mum would remember stuff like that, not me.’

Maggie wasn’t ready to give in. ‘Apparently it was owned by someone called Mrs Jackson.’

‘Ah yes, of course! You mean Flo Jackson. Her shop was somewhere on the High Street, I think.’

‘Really? You remember her?’ Maggie asked. She was surprised at how relieved she felt from the confirmation that the shop and Mrs Jackson had existed at all. Even in her most lucid state, Mrs Milton had been reluctant to give Maggie any indication that Elsa’s story was fact or fiction.

‘Vaguely. Her husband died and she ran the shop on her own for a while. She was quite lonely, as I recall. I don’t think she had any kids.’

‘Do you remember any other relatives? Or maybe a young woman staying with her in the early fifties?’ There was a flutter of excitement as Maggie considered the possibility that her dad had once met Elsa.

Stan thought a little while longer. ‘Now you’re asking. There might have been some kind of falling out with family … Could it have been a niece? No, I’m sorry, love. I probably didn’t pay enough attention at the time, let alone remember it now.’

The sound of the front door opening brought Maggie back to the present. James was home from what would be his last day at work for a whole week and he would be curious to know why his wife had started digging into Elsa’s past when she had already told him how Mrs Milton’s appearance had exorcised that particular ghost. And she didn’t have a convincing argument, not even to herself. Her only answer was that you had to be there, sitting with Elsa sixty years ago by the lake, so she preferred to avoid the debate. ‘Never mind, it doesn’t matter,’ she said.

‘Why on earth are you asking anyway?’

‘Oh, just some research,’ Maggie said. Heavy footfalls grew closer and then James was there. ‘Thanks, Dad. I’ll get James to email the scan photo to Aunt Dot so you can have the first glimpse of the baby.’

‘All right, love, and tell James I said congratulations.’

‘Yes, I’ll tell him you said congratulations and then I’ll thank him for not taking off his work boots and making a mess of my nice, clean floor.’

‘Hello, Stan!’ James called as he backed carefully out of the kitchen.

When Maggie put down the phone, she sent James upstairs to take a bath while she set to work mopping up. Fortunately for her husband, she was too distracted by the fading path that led to the past than the trail of mud down the hallway.

What sounded like a herd of elephants charged through the front door and down the hallway. With a well-developed sense of smell, they picked up a scent too delicious to resist and raced towards the kitchen.

‘We’re here!’ they screamed.

Maggie dropped the wooden spoon in her hand and it landed in the bowl of chocolate butter icing with a choreographed thud. The startled look was melodramatic as was the gasp. ‘You scared me!’

The boys laughed as they hugged her. ‘Hello, wicked stepmother,’ Liam chirped.

‘Sam, take your fingers out of that bowl,’ growled Maggie.

There was a sucking sound as the youngest of James’s sons sampled the butter icing. ‘Dee-licious!’ exclaimed the seven-year-old.

‘Can I lick the bowl when you’ve finished?’ Liam asked.

‘No, I want to.’

‘Since you’ve already had your lunch of …’ Maggie said with an analytical sniff, ‘burger and fries with way too much tomato sauce if I’m not mistaken, then you can have the bowl and two spoons to share. The cake is for later.’

‘But not until you’ve unpacked,’ James added. He had been watching from the kitchen door. ‘Now.’

‘We haven’t said hello to Harvey yet,’ Sam cried.

‘Where is he?’ Liam added.

‘I think he’s behind you,’ Maggie told them.

Harvey had watched from the sidelines but at the sound of his name, he rushed over to the boys. His years of self-discipline and training were quickly forgotten as he jumped up and began to lick them ferociously. Sam’s chocolate-flavoured fingers were particularly irresistible.

‘Come on, let Maggie finish her baking,’ James said. ‘You can take Harvey upstairs with you – but do not feed him.’

Sam and Liam muttered but didn’t object. No sooner had they left the kitchen than the troop of elephants resumed their charge and headed up the stairs, closely followed by the lighter but no-less-excited footfalls of Harvey.

‘How was the drive?’ Maggie asked when the noise had died down.

James had driven only as far as a service station near Birmingham where his sons were waiting to be handed over by Carolyn and her new husband.

‘Far easier than travelling all the way to Portsmouth and back,’ he said. ‘All I need to do now is convince Carolyn to do this every time.’

James and his ex-wife had found an uneasy friendship, which occasionally allowed for compromise, although Carolyn would always have the upper hand because James would travel to the ends of the earth to see his sons and she knew it.

‘Have the boys mentioned the baby at all?’ Maggie asked.

‘Briefly. They wanted to know if you were fat yet.’

Maggie laughed. ‘I hope you told them I’m not.’

James stepped towards her and slid his hand over her bump. ‘It is starting to show a little.’

She placed her hand over his and a smile reached her lips before the frown could crease her brow. Her baby was further ahead with its own preparations than she was. ‘So what else did they say?’

‘Not much really,’ James said, trying to disguise the anxiety in his voice. Liam and Sam had been excited when first told the news but that had been a month ago and the novelty had quickly worn off.

‘That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It means they don’t feel threatened.’

‘I hope so, Maggie. They spent most of the journey talking about their new puppy.’

‘I should have known they’d opt for a Labrador in the end. So when will they get it?’

‘The pups haven’t even been born yet but the plan is to pick up Hartley sometime in the summer,’ James said.

‘Hartley?’

‘So they say. Very imaginative, don’t you think?’

Maggie’s aim was perfect as she smacked James’s hand, which was poised over the mixing bowl. ‘You’re as bad as the boys,’ she scolded. ‘Why don’t you go and help them unpack. I need to finish this cake while I’ve still got enough butter icing to cover it.’

‘You’re the boss.’

James was retreating out of the kitchen when the phone rang. The house phone had been programmed for specific callers and this ringtone had a persistent chirp that would not be ignored.

‘Judith must have a sixth sense when it comes to locating her grandsons,’ Maggie said wryly.

‘I’ll get it,’ James said as if there had been any dispute.

Maggie began scraping her spatula against the bottom of the bowl as she sought out the last pockets of cocoa powder that hadn’t been incorporated into the mix. A quick taste test confirmed that the icing tasted as good as it smelled and she could almost forgive Sam for giving into temptation. But these thoughts barely registered and her stirring slowed as Maggie listened to one half of a conversation between mother and son.

‘Yes, the traffic wasn’t bad for a bank holiday weekend,’ James was telling her.

Maggie used the spatula to push the mixture towards one side of the bowl as she heard James answer more questions about his early morning journey. It took a couple of minutes for Judith to get around to the real reason she had phoned.

‘I’ll have to check with Maggie first. We wanted to spend as much time with the boys as we can.’

Maggie didn’t need to hear the other side of the conversation to know that her mother-in-law was trying to engineer some time of her own with the boys. Judith would be persistent; she liked to get her own way and with James she usually did. It was this apparent hold on him that terrified Maggie. Fixing gates and trips out with the grandchildren were one thing but Judith had views on James’s future too and Maggie suspected she wasn’t a part of that vision.