The Mother's Secret Read online

  Georgie had been chatting to a couple of their neighbours, people she’d known since she was a little girl, when she heard shouting. She strained her ears to work out where it was coming from.

  ‘Sorry, excuse me a moment,’ she said, and turned and marched towards the source of the noise. As she rounded the side of the house the shouting got louder, and she saw Jan, Kate and Sandy in a huddle at the garden gate.

  ‘I told you, I just want to go for a little walk.’

  ‘But Mum, we’re having a party for you and – well, you haven’t got any shoes on.’

  Jan looked down at her feet, surprised to see her toe peeping out through a hole at the end of her tights.

  ‘Oh. Yes. That’s a good point. How did that happen?’

  ‘Mum? Kate? Is everything OK?’

  ‘Yes, yes, it’s all fine, nothing to worry about; your sister’s just making a fuss, that’s all. I’m OK. I’m just going to get myself another drink. You coming, Sandy?’

  Sandy glanced at Georgie and shrugged. Georgie gave a little nod and Sandy steered Jan away, back to her party. She seemed fine now. Calm, and happy. Whatever had been bothering her had passed.

  Kate, however, looked far from happy. Her face was red, and she was close to tears.

  ‘What on earth’s happened, Kate? What was going on?’

  ‘I’ve got no idea. I just saw Mum wandering off and I followed her to see where she was going, but she didn’t really seem to know. She just wanted to get out and go for a walk. I was just telling her to stay here, see her friends, but she – she got really angry with me.’

  Georgie hugged her big sister.

  ‘I’m really worried about her, Georgie.’

  Georgie nodded, because she was too.

  Now here they sit beside the beach, just a few weeks later, and Jan’s behaviour has deteriorated rapidly.

  Kate sighs and rubs her eyes. ‘I went to see her yesterday. I made us a cup of tea, like I always do, and we sat in the front room together. Then out of the blue Mum started talking about a meeting she had at the village hall later, about how she needed to go and see Mr Clarke about getting the zebra crossing put in outside the school.’

  Georgie frowns. ‘But there’s already a zebra crossing outside the school.’

  ‘I know. It’s been there for years. Mr Clarke retired three years ago as well. But Mum thought the meeting was yesterday.’

  ‘So – what did you say?’

  ‘Well, I told her I thought she’d made a mistake and – well, she completely lost her temper. She shouted at me, screaming that I was always interfering, that I didn’t know anything and that she had to go. I just watched helplessly as she put on her coat and walked out of the house. Instinctively I followed her all the way round the block to the park and I went and sat next to her on a bench. She was much calmer but when I asked her if she was OK, she looked bewildered and wasn’t sure why she was even sitting in the park. Of course I ushered her safely home, made another cup of tea and she seemed all right after that.’

  Georgie isn’t sure what to say.

  ‘God.’

  ‘I know. I’m scared, Georgie.’

  ‘I know. I am too.’

  Georgie takes a sip from her steaming mug and holds it in her hands so the steam rises before her eyes, blurring the edges of her sister’s face. Kate traces the ring left behind on the Formica table with her neatly manicured nail.

  ‘You will help me, won’t you? With Mum, if she needs it?’

  Georgie looks at her sister, at her pleading eyes. ‘Of course I will. I’ll do anything you need.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  They sit in silence for a while, letting the sounds of the cafe wash over them: the hum of the fridge, the hiss and burr of the coffee machine, the ting of the bell every time the door opens, the buzz of people’s conversations making the air in the stifling room feel even thicker.

  An image flits into Georgie’s mind. Her and Kate, a day similar to this, at home with Mum, just the three of them, the same as always.

  Their childhood hadn’t been exactly conventional, and not just because their father wasn’t there. Even at the time she knew that things in their home weren’t the same as for the other children at school who had a mother and a father. But sometimes it just seemed more different than others.

  This particular day was wet outside, and they were stuck indoors. It must have been the school holidays. Georgie and Kate were sitting on the rug by the fire as it flickered, playing with a pack of cards that they’d found in the dresser drawer. Outside, rain poured down the windows and condensation dripped inside, landing in puddles that crept dangerously close to the edge of the windowsill. The air felt heavy and oppressive within their four walls, and the girls’ hair stuck to their faces in the sticky heat.

  Every now and then Georgie would glance at the mantelpiece, where, along with piles of clutter and half hidden behind grinning school photos of herself and Kate, was the black-and-white picture in a gold frame that she loved so much. It was of her mother and father, the only picture she’d ever seen of him, taken before Kate was born. They were standing on a bridge and the wind must have been blowing hard that day too because Mum’s hair was all over the place. Dad was smiling – even his eyes were smiling, all happy and crinkled – and they were looking just past the camera as though something funny was going on behind the person taking the picture. They had their arms wrapped around each other. It was odd; Georgie had looked at this photo so many times she didn’t really see it any more, but when it caught her eye, she loved trying to imagine what they’d been laughing at. What had they been doing that day, where were they going, what had they eaten for dinner? She’d filled in their whole lives around this picture. She’d asked her mum about it, of course, many times, but she hadn’t told her much.

  ‘What were you laughing at?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘Was it something funny Daddy had said?’

  ‘Yes, probably.’

  ‘What was he like?’

  ‘He was kind. And a little bit wild.’

  ‘What does wild mean?’

  ‘Crazy. A bit silly.’

  She liked that description of him. He sounded like fun.

  ‘Did you love him?’

  ‘Yes . . . ’ And this was when the tears always started and Georgie didn’t like to ask her anything else in case she upset her even more.

  Now Georgie tore her eyes away before her mum noticed her looking at it again, and looked over at her mum instead. She was standing behind the ironing board, where she always stood, her face blurry and indistinct behind the steam rising from the iron, which made the warm room even stuffier. Georgie watched as her mother smoothed down the starchy fabric, and ran the iron across it with a gentle puff. Then the fog cleared for a moment and Georgie could make out the frown that furrowed her mother’s forehead: the frown that was imprinted on her mother’s skin like a bad crease in the shirts she was constantly ironing. Jan would occasionally look up and catch Georgie’s eye, her cheeks puffing out in a sigh, and then she’d smile a smile that almost reached her eyes but not quite.

  ‘OK, sweetheart?’

  ‘Yes, Mummy.’ Georgie smiled and turned back to Kate who was quietly playing patience on the flowery carpet whose pattern stretched on and on as far as the eye could see. But she hadn’t been OK, not really. She’d actually been sad that day, because she’d really wanted to go to a birthday party but Mum had said she couldn’t go. Not that she’d been surprised, because Mum never let them go anywhere. In fact, Georgie was pretty sure that if Mum had her way they’d never leave the house at all. It was only thanks to their Aunty Sandy, Mum’s best friend, that they ever got to go anywhere. And it was Sandy who had come to the rescue that day as well.

  The steam iron had puffed again and it had felt to seven-year-old Georgie as though the day was never going to come to an end. Then, thankfully, the boredom had been interrupted by a knock at the door and both girls
had jumped up and followed Jan to see who was there. When the door opened a familiar face had greeted them.

  ‘Aunty Sandy!’ Georgie yelled, almost throwing herself at Sandy’s legs as she stepped out of the rain and into the steamy house.

  ‘Georgie, let Aunty Sandy in, you silly sausage, she can’t move if you’re clinging to her like a limpet.’

  Georgie reluctantly let go and Sandy stepped further into the room.

  ‘Gosh, it’s like a monsoon out there.’ Her hair was usually big and puffy but today it was plastered to her head, making her look as though she was wearing a nun’s habit. Aunty Sandy wiped her face with her sleeve and pushed her hair back out of her eyes.

  ‘Come and sit by the fire, I’ll stick another log on.’

  Within minutes the fire was roaring again and, for the first time all day, Jan had switched off the iron and put the washing in the kitchen out of the way. Mum and Sandy sat drinking tea from mismatched teacups; Georgie and Kate had a plastic cup of squash each. Georgie eyed up the plate of biscuits on the coffee table in front of her and waited for someone else to take one first.

  ‘So, what have you girls been up to in this rain? Bet you haven’t been out in the garden today, have you?’

  Georgie stuck out her bottom lip. ‘No, it’s been really boring.’

  ‘Charming,’ Jan smiled, taking a sip from her cup. She turned to Sandy. ‘I’ve been working – I had a load of shirts to get through that’re being picked up tomorrow so the girls have had a bit of a dull day, I’m afraid.’ She shrugged. ‘You know what it’s like.’

  ‘Oh, you are silly. You should have rung me, I’d have taken them off your hands for the day.’ She turned to the girls and winked. ‘We’d have had fun, wouldn’t we?’

  ‘Yeah!’ the two girls cried.

  ‘I know, I know but – well, I don’t like to always ask and – well, you know what I’m like . . .’

  ‘About them going anywhere without you? Yes, I know, Jan, but—’ She stopped, not wanting to say any more in front of the girls. But Georgie and Kate both knew that Sandy thought that Mum should let them go out much more often. All the other children at school had their friends round for tea now and then. They’d heard Aunty Sandy offer to look after them lots of times, but Mum never took any notice. At least, she didn’t seem to, because nothing ever changed.

  ‘Georgie’s been invited to a party, Aunty Sandy, but Mum says she can’t go,’ Kate piped up, and Georgie felt her face go red. Mum had already said no to this, she didn’t know why Kate had to go and bring it up all over again.

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Sandy took a sip from her cup and – at last! – reached for a biscuit from the plate. Georgie snatched up a bourbon almost immediately and bit the top biscuit off, exposing the layer of cream underneath. The crunching sounded loud in her ears.

  Aunty Sandy didn’t say anything else, and eventually Mum must have felt the need to say something, to explain herself. ‘I just think she’s a bit young, that’s all. And you understand, don’t you, sweetheart?’

  Georgie nodded, crumbs flying from her mouth and spraying on the carpet around her. She swallowed. ‘Yes. When I’m a big girl I can go.’

  Sandy nodded, her eyes on Georgie all the time. Georgie had felt uncomfortable with Aunty Sandy looking at her like that, but eventually Sandy pulled her gaze away and turned to Jan.

  ‘Yes, when she’s a big girl I’m sure she’ll be able to go to parties, won’t she, Jan?’

  ‘Yes, one day soon. I promise.’

  But they all knew, deep down, that it was an empty promise. Jan was never going to change her mind.

  ‘Earth to Georgie.’

  Georgie jumps. She’d been so lost in the memory of that day she’d forgotten where they were, and now she looks at Kate’s face watching her with concern and forces a smile.

  ‘Where on earth did you go just then?’

  ‘I was just thinking – about me and you, as children.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Remember during the holidays when we just used to stay in with Mum all the time, while she ironed and we had to amuse ourselves?’

  Kate nods. ‘It wasn’t always like that. We did go out sometimes.’

  ‘With Mum.’

  ‘Well, yes, usually.’ Kate lifts her fork and presses the last few crumbs against the plate with the back of it, then lifts it to her mouth.

  ‘Why do you think she was so overprotective?’ Georgie runs her finger through the buttercream left on her plate and licks it off. ‘Do you think it was just because she was on her own?’

  ‘I don’t know, Georgie. But let’s face it, we’re never likely to find out now, are we? It’s not as though we can ask Mum. She can’t remember what she did thirty seconds ago, let alone thirty years.’

  ‘But do you think she’d have been different, if Dad had been there?’

  Kate shrugs. ‘I’ve really no idea. She might have been happier, I suppose.’

  ‘Mum was happy. Wasn’t she?’

  Kate pauses, inspecting her nails, then takes a deep breath. ‘Not really. I don’t think she was ever happy. I think Mum spent most of our childhood mourning Dad’s death. It’s as though a little bit of her vanished the day he died.’

  ‘Oh.’ Georgie frowns and pushes her hair from her face. ‘I guess that’s why she never met anyone else?’

  ‘Probably.’

  Georgie rubs her temple. ‘God, it’s so sad. And now she’s losing herself completely.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Has the doctor seen her?’

  Kate nods. ‘Yes. I took her the other day. She hasn’t been officially diagnosed yet, but it’s just a matter of ticking the right boxes, I think. The doctor seems pretty sure but she’s seeing a specialist in a few days’ time and we’ll get some answers then. But it’s so awful, Georgie, watching her look confused when she’s trying to do something she’s done a million times before. It breaks my heart.’

  Georgie nods. She hasn’t been to see her mother nearly enough recently because – well, to be honest she’s also found it really hard, seeing her this way. But she realizes now how selfish she’s been, letting Kate shoulder all the responsibility.

  ‘When I rang her the other day she was rambling a bit. She kept saying weird things, like she didn’t want that woman to know, and she had to keep it to herself. I don’t know what she thought was happening, but when I rang her later she seemed fine again, hardly remembered anything about it. But I think you’re right. She’s definitely getting worse. I’m sorry.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For being so selfish. Pretending it’s all fine that you go and see her more and look after her more. I think I’ve been in denial, to be honest.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, George. It’s fine, really. Anyway, Aunty Sandy’s been helping out as much as she can. Once Mum’s seen this specialist and we have a diagnosis I might need your help a bit more, mind you. You know, looking after her, making sure she has everything she needs. Watching out for signs she’s getting worse. Because she will. Get worse, I mean.’

  ‘I know.’ Georgie feels a pressure building in her head and she presses her fingertips against her temples.

  ‘We just need to make sure she’s safe.’

  ‘OK. I’ll do what I can, I promise. Just ask.’

  ‘I will. Thanks, George. I don’t know how I’d cope with Mum being like she is without you.’

  Slowly the cafe empties, the only noise someone sweeping up around them, pushing crumbs into a pile. Every time the door opens the crumbs blow away again, cascading across the tiled floor.

  ‘We should go.’ Kate pushes her arm through the sleeve of her coat and stands. ‘You coming?’

  Georgie nods, shoving her hands in her cardigan. They pay and leave, and minutes later Kate has the windscreen wipers going and the fan on in the car, waiting for the windows to clear. As she pulls out of the car park and into the road Georgie speaks.

  ‘I’ve decided something.’

>   ‘What?’

  ‘I want to go on holiday. Abroad.’

  ‘What?!’ Kate swerves as she shoots a sharp look at Georgie, then pulls the steering wheel straight just in time before she hits a bollard. ‘What’s brought this on?’

  Georgie shrugs. ‘It’s time to do something.’

  ‘OK.’ Kate turns the fan off and risks a glance at her sister. ‘But why now?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Maybe it’s seeing Mum like this. I just keep thinking, what if it happens to me too, and I’ve never even done anything? Never been anywhere. There’s got to be more to life than Norfolk, and I’d always regret it if I didn’t see any of it because I was too damn scared.’

  The words hang in the air for a moment, the only sounds the rain hammering on the windscreen and the wipers swooshing desperately back and forth. Then Kate clicks on the indicator and pulls over to the side of the road and cuts the engine. Cars whoosh by leaving trails of spray in their wake as the world outside the windows becomes more and more smudged, obscured.

  Kate leans across and wraps her arms round Georgie awkwardly, her coat snagging on the handbrake and tugging across her shoulders, restricting her reach. Georgie returns the hug, grateful for Kate’s support.

  They pull apart and tears shine in Kate’s eyes. ‘Oh Georgie, this is brilliant news. Do you really think you can do it?’

  Georgie nods. ‘I do. I have to, Kate. Don’t you see? If I don’t, I’ll always wish I had.’

  ‘Are you – going to fly?’

  Georgie’s body visibly shudders. ‘I’d like to. I just – I can’t really imagine it. Getting on a plane and being right up there.’ She looks up but can hardly see the flat, grey sky through the smeared water on the windscreen. She tries to picture a block of metal up there, suspended, with her in it. But she can’t. ‘It just seems impossible. Terrifying. Like magic. It’s hard to explain.’