Читать книгу The Name You Once Gave Me - Mike Phillips - Страница 8

‘BUT THAT’S YOU, MUM,’ Daniel persisted.

For a moment he felt unsure about where he was, like someone lost in an alien landscape.

‘Yes, I suppose it is me,’ she said. ‘Yes. It’s me, but I don’t remember.’

She turned around and looked at him, smiling. ‘Well, I did look like this once. A long time ago.’ She paused, thinking about it. ‘It looks like the garden at Number 12. You were only a few months old.’

‘Is that my dad?’

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘No. I don’t know who that is.’ She looked again. ‘There were always people coming and going,’ she said. ‘I guess he was a friend of someone’s. Maybe Nancy.’

This was her sister Nancy. The two of them had been orphans, brought up in a series of foster homes. His mum didn’t like talking about those days. She had once told him that she felt guilty about the fact that he had no grandparents. She knew nothing about his father’s parents, which meant that they were all alone in the world.

‘Never mind, Mum,’ he had said. ‘I’m used to it.’

‘So was I. Until you came along. It was always just me and Nancy.’

Nancy had been the pretty one, she always said, who had married well and died young.

Now when she mentioned Nancy he looked at her sharply. ‘I thought Nancy had married and gone off before I was born,’ he said.

His mother sighed and looked away again. ‘She was on holiday. She came and stayed with me for a bit in Number 12.’

This was another thing she didn’t like talking about. Nancy had married into a posh family. Her husband became a diplomat and they travelled a lot. When she died in a car accident his mother had taken him to the funeral. He was only little, but he sensed her dislike of the people there. Later on he realized that he had been the only black person present. He thought also that his mother’s rage had been something to do with the way the posh mourners had behaved towards them. She told him later that when she went to sit in the pew reserved for the family an usher had stopped her. Instead of letting her sit where she wanted he had showed her to a seat at the back. After all that, someone in the churchyard had said something to upset her. She wouldn’t say what it was, and he could only guess.

‘They were just a bunch of snobs,’ was all she would say.

Nancy’s husband married again, not long after. Then he had gone into politics. When his mother saw his picture in the newspaper she would throw it aside, as if seeing him still made her angry.

‘Where did you get this photo?’ she asked him again.

‘A man I went to see today. I didn’t know before, but he used to live at Number 12 when you lived there.’

‘At Number 12? What was his name?’

‘John Brownjohn. He was a teacher.’

‘Oh. I remember him. John Brownjohn.’ She laughed. ‘He’s still around?’

‘He is, yeah.’

Quickly, he told her about his visit to Brownjohn and what the man had said about his father.

She held up the photo and glanced at it quickly. ‘And you thought this was your dad?’

‘That’s what he said.’

‘Silly old prat,’ she burst out. ‘He didn’t really know us. He was all right, but we kept ourselves to ourselves. We didn’t want him going around talking about us.’

Daniel nodded. That was how he and Louise were with the couple who lived in the flat above him.

‘Come here,’ his mum said.

She got up and hugged him, stroking his hair the way she used to do when he was little.

‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘That man could never stop talking bollocks.’

He laughed. Then something else came to mind. There were some other things he wanted to ask her. He cleared his throat and sat down.

‘About my dad,’ he said. ‘Can you remember if he had any special problems with his health? Like sickle cell. Things like that.’

She stared at him, her forehead creasing up in a frown. ‘Why do you ask?’

For a moment he didn’t answer. He and Louise had decided not to tell anyone before the wedding. Now he didn’t know what to say. His mother saved him the trouble.

‘She’s pregnant, isn’t she?’

‘Yes.’

For some reason – he didn’t know why – he had been worried about how his mum would receive the news.

‘Don’t worry,’ Louise had said. ‘When your mum gets used to it, she’ll be thrilled. Trust me. Most women love babies.’

Daniel had believed her, but in the moment that he told his mother he was certain that her reaction was nothing to do with being thrilled. Instead, as he told Louise later, he could have sworn that the look which crossed her face was pure, naked fright. In a second she had caught herself and begun to smile, but for an instant he had seen nothing there except fear.