The woman scanned the tables, her face creased with concern. She looked kind, a little harried and was in her late forties or possibly a little older. She was well-groomed, her clothes expensive, classic. Autumn was glad that she’d made a little more effort with her appearance this morning, but she still felt very young in comparison. This woman was probably much the same age as Autumn’s own mother and that was something she hadn’t really considered before.
It was now or never. Autumn stood up and spoke out. ‘Mary?’ Her head swivelled in Autumn’s direction. ‘Yes.’ ‘I’m Autumn.’ She held out her hand.
‘Oh,’ the woman said, taken aback. ‘I was looking for
someone older.’
Autumn smiled. ‘I was very young when I had Willow.’ ‘Oh. Yes, yes. I did know that.’ Mary took her hand and
covered it with her own. ‘It’s just that, well. Well . . . ’ She seemed lost for words.
‘This is all terribly difficult, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Dreadful.’
‘Thank you for coming. I do appreciate that it’s not easy. For either of us.’ Autumn double-checked that the woman was alone. ‘I hoped that Willow would be with you.’
‘So did I.’ Mary frowned, worried. ‘I’m afraid that I have rather a lot to tell you.’
Autumn felt her mouth go dry and her heart was racing. She hoped that nothing too awful was wrong. Let it not be a terrible setback before they’d even started. She tried to sound more calm than she felt. ‘Then you sit down and let me get you a coffee.’
Mary looked relieved and grateful. Autumn took her order and headed to the counter. When she went to pay for the cappuccino, her hands were trembling. Putting the coffee on the table between them, Autumn sat down again. She forced herself to sit back and not perch on the edge of the sofa.
‘I’m shaking inside,’ Mary said.
Autumn managed a thin laugh. ‘Me too.’
‘I never thought this day would come,’ Mary confessed. ‘I always knew that it might be on the horizon, but you think if you do a good enough job, if you’re the best mother that you possibly can be to your child, that they’ll never want to find their birth mother. You always hope in your heart that you’ll be enough.’
Autumn didn’t know what to say.
‘But it’s not, is it?’ she continued, letting out a weary breath. ‘Blood, as they say, is very much thicker than water.’ There was an edge of bitterness in her tone that she couldn’t hide. Mary sipped her coffee and composed herself. ‘I’ve done my best for her, for Willow.’
‘I’m sure you have.’
‘She was a lovely baby,’ Mary said. ‘So happy, contented.’
Autumn was both relieved and saddened to hear it. She’d missed it all, but Willow had clearly had a mother who’d loved her dearly. She couldn’t have hoped for more.
‘She was always so easy and she was the apple of her father’s eye. I’ve brought some photographs.’ Mary fumbled in her handbag and handed them over.
Autumn looked at the family shots. It was like looking at a mirror image of herself. They had the same-shaped face, the same mouth and, of course, the same wild auburn hair – she couldn’t have escaped that.
‘She was three then,’ Mary said, smiling fondly. ‘Six in that one by the seaside.’
‘She looks lovely.’
Mary raised a disapproving eyebrow. ‘Willow doesn’t look like that now. Goth phase.’ She shook her head, bewildered. ‘I think that’s what you call it. All black eyeliner and ripped tights.’
Autumn had toyed with that look herself, more to annoy her parents than for any other reason.
Mary handed her phone to Autumn. A sulky teenage girl, caked in make-up, glowered back from the screen, but there was still no mistaking the family resemblance. It was like looking at herself at the same age. A lump came to her throat and, tenderly, Autumn ran a finger over the image. This was her child. After all these years, she finally knew what she looked like. She fought down the sob that threatened to escape. Her b a b y.
‘She’s quite headstrong,’ Mary said, regretfully. ‘All the sunny side of her has gone. I told her she’s too young to be looking for you, but she wouldn’t listen. I wanted her to wait until she was eighteen, at least. It used to be more difficult for adopted children to trace their birth mothers, but now with the internet . . . ’ Mary shrugged. ‘It really wasn’t that hard. We’ve never hidden anything from her. You think that’s for the best.’
She couldn’t stop looking at the picture of her child. The ache of the lost years was almost unbearable. ‘Did you ask her not to come?’
‘No.’ Mary grimaced. ‘If I’d done that, then she definitely would have been here. Whatever I ask Willow to do, she’ll invariably do the opposite.’
‘If it’s a consolation, I’m sure most teenagers are the same. I know I was.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she agreed grudgingly. ‘Doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.’
‘No,’ she sympathised. ‘I’m sure not.’ Oh, God, how she wished that Willow had just come along today. Now her insides were even more twisted with anxiety than they had been. It was easy to sympathise with Mary but much harder to know how to address the situation.
‘My husband died two years ago. Quite unexpectedly,’ Mary continued. ‘That’s him there with Willow.’ She pointed to one of the photographs. He was a tall, handsome man with an easy smile. ‘We’d been a happy family until then. She was a very affable little girl. Everyone adored her. We’d all jogged along contentedly. We were lucky, there were very few lows. We gave her an idyllic childhood, you know.’
Autumn choked back the tears. ‘I’m very grateful for that.’
‘Willow has struggled since Charles has been gone. She’s not the same child. There’s a hole in her world and she doesn’t know how to fill it.’
Oh, my poor child, Autumn thought. She knew what it was like to be grieving. ‘My brother, Rich, died too young. And I still have the feeling that something’s missing in my life. It doesn’t ever end.’ She hated to think that Willow was going through the same pain. How much worse to lose the only father you’ve known.
Rich had been the only person who knew about Willow. He’d always supported her, always assured her that one day her daughter would come to find her. She only hoped he could see her now. She’d like to think that he could.
‘She thinks that finding you will be the answer,’ Mary added, reluctantly.
She was terrified to ask, but she had to know. ‘And you don’t want her to?’
‘Willow talks about nothing else, but I’m frightened for her, Autumn.’ Mary reached out to touch her arm and then thought better of it. She let her hand fall back. ‘Despite her fierce makeup, she’s very vulnerable. I don’t think she’s mature enough to cope with this. She thinks she is. Of course she does. But she’s still a child and Willow is pinning a lot of her hopes on you. I don’t want her to be let down again.’
Autumn felt her throat tighten. Her heart went out to her daughter, that bonny, beaming baby from the photographs in front of her who’d grown into a troubled teenager. ‘I loved her, Mary. I never wanted to give her up.’
‘I understand some of your background. The adoption agency told me a little about it.’
‘I was forced to give up Willow by my parents. It was the worst decision of my life.’ Autumn fought back another sob. ‘I’ve regretted it ever since. But I was dependent on them for everything and I felt that I had no option. I had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to. I’m only glad that you were able to give her a loving, stable home.’
‘I’m afraid that isn’t always enough.’ Tears filled Mary’s eyes. ‘She wants you, too. But as much as she wants it, she’s scared. Just before we left she engineered an argument and stormed off. She’s done it each time we were due to meet. I was on the verge of cancelling again, then I decided that I would come alone to talk to you. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘I’m very glad that
you did.’ If she could build a relationship with Mary, then perhaps Willow would feel more able to trust her.
‘I confess that I wanted to see what you looked like, too,’ she admitted. ‘If you’d been covered in tattoos and high on drugs then I would have done everything I could to dissuade her from seeing you. She needs a positive role model in her life, not someone to lead her astray.’
‘I understand that. You’re only trying to protect her.’ In Mary’s position she would have done exactly the same.
‘I think she’s afraid of being rejected.’ Mary shook her head. ‘It would break her heart to see you if you then didn’t want to have anything to do with her.’
‘I have no intention of doing that. I would love the chance to have even a small part of her back in my life.’
‘I feel happier now that I’ve met you.’ Mary dabbed at her eyes with a tissue from her pocket. ‘I’d built this up in my mind to be a terrible hurdle. I dreaded seeing you.’ She gave a watery laugh. ‘It sounds silly now. I didn’t really know what to expect. I pictured the worst. You seem like a very sensible and stable young woman.’
‘I’m in a good place, Mary.’ She thought of Miles and Flo at home and knew that she could offer Willow something good and wholesome. ‘And I’m grateful that you felt able to make contact with the agency for Willow.’
‘I didn’t want to,’ she admitted. ‘I’m worried that everything I’ve done for her will count for nothing in the end.’
Autumn slipped across and sat on the sofa next to her. She put her arm round Mary and hugged her tight. ‘I’m not a threat to you. I want to do all I can to make this easier. I’m sure that, together, we can steer Willow through this and help each other.’
‘I’d like that,’ Mary said. Then they held onto each other and cried.
Chapter Twelve
Nadia finished her shift at the call centre and hurried out of the overheated office into the chilly evening air, eager to get home. She pulled her coat around her and dashed off towards the Tube. The office was down by The Gherkin and there were very few people around at this time of night. It was one of her weekly late shifts and the rush of commuters had long gone. She hated this part of her journey when it was dark. Her footsteps echoed on the pavement and the wind whipped cruelly, funnelling between the skyscraper buildings. Putting her head down, she hurried on. All she wanted to do was get home now, relieve Autumn of her babysitting duties and get into a hot bath.
She was getting cold feet about her impending trip to the Lake District; it was weighing on her mind. A few times during calls this afternoon, she’d found herself drifting off, letting one irate customer or another shout down the phone at her pointlessly. The sooner she could leave this job the better. The pay was reasonable, but the work was soulless. She needed to get out before she lost her sanity.
Nadia had checked the train times from London to Cumbria and the journey, though long, would be easy enough. They could go direct to Penrith station, where James could come to collect her and Lewis. No need to struggle with luggage as they changed trains or anything, so that wasn’t the issue to hide behind.
She went over it for the hundredth time in her mind as she walked. What she was really scared of was seeing James again. She liked him – a lot. But that wasn’t the issue either. In fact, she wasn’t even sure which way she wanted this to go. What if they didn’t get on when they were together rather than having lovely, long remote telephone conversations? She couldn’t bear it if that ended. It was her late evening lifeline, something she looked forward to every day. What if the relationship they’d developed was nothing more than a delicate illusion?
On the other hand, what if they got on like a house on fire as they had at Christmas? What then? James was rarely able to leave the farm, that much she’d already established. And why would he want to? That was his life. So where did they go from there? How easy would it be to conduct a long distance relationship with three school-age children between them? Nadia sighed to herself. Why couldn’t she have met someone who lived two Tube stations away? That would have made life so much easier.
On the Underground, she dropped into an empty seat. This line was relatively quiet now and she picked up a discarded copy of Metro, flicking through it to distract herself from the jumble of thoughts going round her head as the train rumbled and grumbled through the stations.
At the other end of her journey, she walked up the escalator, swiped her Oyster card and swung out into the street. Her heart lifted. Not far now. She strode out as she turned the corner, home almost in sight. The lights would be on; it would be lovely and warm inside. She desperately wanted to know if Autumn had heard any more about a possible meeting with Willow. Maybe she and Autumn could share a cuppa and some chocolate digestives before her friend left. That would be a nice way to end the day.
Then, out of nowhere, she felt someone grab at her handbag from behind. She was wearing the strap across her body and the force caught her off balance and wheeled her round. There was a man, early twenties, in a black hoodie, towering over her. He was wide-eyed and wired. Where had he come from? She hadn’t heard a thing. He snatched viciously at her bag again, agitated, and she stumbled forward to her knees. Before she could do or say anything else, his fist slammed into her face and she felt the taste of blood in her mouth. He aimed a kick which connected with her ribs and doubled her over.
‘Give me the bag,’ he snarled. ‘Give me the fucking bag and you won’t get hurt.’
In her disorientated state, she tried to gather her wits. Her brain struggled to make the connection between what had been happening a moment before and this. Nadia thought about fighting, but what could she do? He already had her at a disadvantage.
‘Give it to me!’ he shouted again.
Hands shaking, she peeled off the bag and handed it up to him.
He spat in her face and shouted ‘Fucking bitch!’ at her before running off down the road.
Nadia tried to get up but the kick had winded her and she stayed on the pavement on all fours, breathing heavily. Her whole body was trembling. Her tights were torn, her knees bloodied and scraped where she’d fallen. Gingerly, she felt her lip and thought that it was split. There was an excruciating pain in the left side of her ribs and she wondered if they were broken. Shaking, she wiped the spittle from her cheek with the back of her hand. It felt as if it was burning like acid and bile rose to her throat. She steadied herself, worried that she’d be sick out here on the pavement.
A young couple walked towards her, but crossed the road when they looked up from their conversation and saw her. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. What sort of place was she living in? She was angry with herself that she’d let her guard down, as she prided herself on being streetwise. Well, not today and it had cost her dearly. She stayed where she was until she’d got her breathing under control and then pushed herself to her feet. She staggered as if drunk. It was a vicious punch and a kick, but nothing more. It could have been so much worse. Yet she felt as if she’d done a dozen rounds in the ring with Ricky Hatton.
Clutching her ribs, she made her way home holding the wall outside the terraced houses for support. This hurt like hell now and was going to be so much worse in the morning. As she got to the door, she went to get her keys from her handbag before she remembered they were gone – like going to switch on the light in a power cut so that you could find a candle. Instead, she rang the bell. She’d have to call the bank, cancel her credit cards and, more importantly, get the locks on the house changed as soon as she could. Somewhere out there was a violent man with a set of her house keys. Nervously, she checked that he hadn’t followed her but, thankfully, there was no one else in the street.
A moment later, Autumn opened the door. ‘Nadia?’
She fell inside, holding onto her friend. Thank goodness she was here. How would she have dealt with this alone?
Autumn was clearly shocked by her appearance. ‘What on earth’s happened?’
‘Some
drugged up shithead mugged me,’ Nadia lisped. Her lip was swelling painfully. ‘Just a few houses down. I was nearly home.’
Then she burst into a flood of fresh tears. Autumn held her tightly. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘My ribs,’ she said. ‘And he punched me in the face.’
‘Your lip’s split,’ Autumn said, her own voice shaky. ‘And there’s blood all over your coat.’
Was there? She hadn’t noticed that.
‘Come on,’ Autumn said. ‘Let me help you to take it off. I’ll call the police and then I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
Autumn gently eased the coat from Nadia’s shoulders as she winced in pain. It felt as if all of her body had been assaulted.
‘Do you think you need to go to A and E? I can get Miles to come in the car.’
‘I don’t think so. But I could do with a hot bath.’
‘Are you sure? What did he do?’
‘He just punched and kicked me.’ Nadia cried again. ‘Then he spat at me.’ She wiped her cheek again, longing now to scrub her whole face.
‘Bastard,’ Autumn fumed. ‘I’ll phone this in now. They might have a chance of catching him. Then I’ll run you a bath and you can have a good, long soak.’
‘Is Lewis all right?’
‘He’s fine. Fast asleep for more than an hour.’
‘Good.’ She was glad that her son hadn’t seen her like this; he would only worry. Though how she’d disguise her lip in the morning, goodness only knows. It was starting to sting like hell.
Autumn called the police and Nadia gave them the details of what had happened. They said that someone would come round to see her, though Nadia had little hope that they’d catch her mugger. This went on day in and day out round here and there were very few prosecutions. It had become a part of life. How awful was it to say that?
She thought of James’s farm, the wide open spaces, the glorious hills and thought that there were probably very few muggings there. You were more likely to get trampled by a cow or a sheep. Trying to smile at the image, she felt her lip split wider.