Читать книгу Forgotten Child - Kitty Neale - Страница 9

Jenny barely touched her breakfast. The atmosphere was tense, and something was obviously wrong, yet it seemed she hadn’t been the cause of their argument. What was her father going to tell her? She’d known for some time that things weren’t right between her parents, that theirs wasn’t a happy marriage, and now an awful thought crossed Jenny’s mind. Divorce! That must be it. Her parents were getting a divorce.

Jenny looked at Robin, but her brother seemed unconcerned as he mopped up the last of his yolk. Unlike her, Robin seemed unaware of the tension in the air and now pushed back his chair, saying, ‘Right, I’d better get on with some studying.’

‘No, Robin, stay where you are. What I have to say concerns you too.’

Her father’s words added to Jenny’s fear. If Robin was going to be told too it must be a divorce. Her stomach churned. Did it mean her father would move out of the house? Would she see even less of him than she did now? Unable to help it, Jenny blurted out, ‘You’re going to leave, aren’t you? You and Mummy are getting a divorce.’

‘Of course we aren’t,’ her father answered. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

‘I…I thought, well, the row…then you saying you were going to tell me something, Robin too.’

‘Yes I am, but it’s got nothing to do with divorce. You see…er…er…’ Edward stammered, running both hands over his face, unable to find the words.

‘Oh, do get on with it, Edward.’

‘I’m doing my best, Delia, but this isn’t easy.’

‘I’ll tell her then.’

‘No, leave this to me,’ he insisted. With a strained look on his face, he turned to Jenny again. ‘I think it might be best if I start at the beginning. You see, many years ago, some distant relatives of mine in Ireland were killed when their cottage caught fire. They left one daughter, er…Mary…and with her parents’ death she was left entirely alone. I was contacted by the home she was placed in, but by the time I got there she had tragically died too.’

‘Oh, Daddy, that’s awful. Was she badly burned?’

‘No, it was nothing like that. Mary was pregnant and died in childbirth.’

For a moment he paused, his eyes pained, but nothing could have prepared Jenny for his next words.

‘She had a baby girl, one who was left without a mother or anyone to care for her. That’s where we stepped in, darling. That baby girl was you and I brought you home. Your mother and I adopted you, made you our own daughter and one whom we love very much.’

Jenny stiffened in shock. Adopted! As she glanced at her mother, the feelings she always had of not being wanted, of something missing in her life, suddenly made sense. She wasn’t her mother! Someone called Mary was her mother, but…but she had died. Jenny’s eyes now darted to her father – but he wasn’t really her father either.

‘What…what happened to my real father?’

‘I’m afraid we don’t know, darling. Mary died without telling anyone his name.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Robin murmured.

‘There’s no need for bad language, Robin,’ came the gentle rebuke.

‘Sorry, Mother, but this has come as a bit of a shock.’

‘I think it’s more of a shock for your sister,’ his father chided.

‘Yes,’ Robin said, smiling now, ‘but Jennifer isn’t really my sister, is she? Just how distant was this relative, Dad?’

‘Mary’s mother was a third cousin on my father’s side of the family.’

‘Wow! That means that Jenny and I are so distantly related that there’s hardly a link at all.’

Jenny’s head was reeling. Robin wasn’t her brother either, instead just a very distant cousin. Not only that, he actually looked pleased about it. She couldn’t stand any more, couldn’t listen to any more, and, flinging back her chair, Jenny fled the room.

Edward reared to his feet.

‘Did you have to be so indelicate, Robin? It was enough for Jenny to take in without you adding to her confusion.’

‘Robin was only trying to make sense of it all, Edward,’ snapped Delia. ‘There’s no need to shout at him.’

‘Didn’t you see his face? He looked delighted to hear that Jenny isn’t his sister.’

‘What do you expect? Robin knows what a trial that girl has been to me.’

‘That girl is our daughter.’

‘I have never accepted her as that.’

‘Yes, you’ve made that obvious. You’ve treated her more like a servant. Nevertheless, legally Jenny is our daughter, our responsibility and this is her home.’

‘For now,’ Delia murmured, her head down as she began to clear the table.

‘I won’t have you driving her out.’

‘What!’ Robin exclaimed. ‘Mother, surely you don’t want Jennifer to leave home?’

‘She’ll be sixteen next month and leaving school soon after to find employment. That makes her perfectly capable of looking after herself.’

‘And just where is she supposed to live?’ Robin asked.

‘She can get one of those bedsit things.’

Robin now reared to his feet too, and Edward witnessed a change in his son. Like a worm turning, he glared at his mother with an expression of disgust.

‘Despite what you say, Mother, from what I’ve seen Jenny has never been a trial to you. She doesn’t deserve this and if you force her out I’m going too.’

Delia’s face was a picture, her expression registering both shock and bewilderment. ‘Don’t be silly, Robin.’

‘Silly, am I? No, I don’t think so. If Jenny leaves just watch me walk out behind her.’ With this threat hanging in the air, Robin stormed from the kitchen.

Delia looked stunned, her jaw agape; before departing the room too, Edward couldn’t stop himself from commenting, ‘Well, Delia, that didn’t go down quite as you expected.’

Jenny was still unable to process her thoughts into coherent order. She had no feelings of self. She wasn’t Jennifer Lavender, daughter of Edward and Delia, but instead her mother had been Irish, and her father unknown. There were so many questions tumbling around in her mind that she felt relieved in a way when the man she had thought of as her father knocked softly on her bedroom door.

‘I’m sorry, Jennifer. That must have been an awful shock for you.’

‘I…I don’t know who I am any more.’

‘You’re still the same person. You’re our little girl, and you’ll always be that.’

‘But I’m not. I…I’m some sort of distant cousin.’

‘No, Jennifer. When we adopted you, your mother and I became your parents.’

‘I’ve always known that Mummy…no, Delia…has never really loved me. I thought it was me, that I’m unlovable, but now…What was she like, Dad?’

‘Your mother had a difficult birth with Robin and it took her a long time to recover, but she was as keen as me to adopt you.’

‘I’m not talking about her. I meant my real mother.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, darling, I’m afraid there’s very little I can tell you. As I said, they were very distant relatives and I hadn’t seen them since my childhood. I…I never saw their daughter, Mary.’

Jenny felt a sudden pull to Ireland, a need to see what it was like, where her mother had lived. At that instant, she vowed that one day she’d go there.

‘What was her last name?’

‘Murphy. She was Mary Ann Murphy.’

‘It…it’s a lovely name, I like it. So my name should really be Jennifer Murphy.’

‘Oh, sweetheart, don’t say that. Your mother and I chose the name Jennifer, and as we legally adopted you, your name is Jennifer Lavender.’

‘You…you said that you were the only family she had left. Does that mean I haven’t got any relatives at all in Ireland? Isn’t there anyone who could tell me more about my real mother?’

‘I’m afraid not, darling.’

‘You also said she didn’t name my father, but I don’t understand. Why didn’t they know who he was? Why didn’t he claim me?’

There was a pause, a sigh, and then he said, ‘Jennifer, the home your mother was placed in was one for unmarried mothers.’

‘Unmarried!’ Jenny gasped. Earlier, when told that she was adopted, her mind had almost frozen, but now the truth sank in. ‘That…that means I…I’m a basta—’

‘Don’t say it,’ her father quickly interrupted. ‘We have no idea what Mary went through, how she ended up in such a place, but one thing I’m sure of – had she lived, your mother would have loved you very much.’

Tears came then and began to run unchecked down Jenny’s cheeks. She had never known a mother’s love. All she had ever known was rejection, a feeling of being unwanted and in the way. She felt the bed dip as her father sat down next to her, and though he wasn’t her real father Jenny had always felt close to him – always felt that at least he loved her. His arms reached out to her and, sobbing, Jenny fell into them.