Mothers & Daughters (26 page)

And even though my chief urge was to throw myself at her feet and grovel for forgiveness, at the back of my mind I was thinking, Oh, stop being so melodramatic. I noticed Matty had crawled across to the bay and was twisting himself up in the curtain, and I longed to go over and cuddle him but I didn't dare move. If she'd let me speak I could've explained to her about damage limitation and being frightened of what Ian might do, but she just kept on and on at top volume, like someone blasting a cold water hose directly at me so that my chief instinct was to put my hands up and cover my face.

‘I might have expected it,' she said. ‘I should have known, because when have you ever, ever stuck up for me? Never, that's when. Not once. When I came home from Leeds you treated me like a bloody nuisance, a hypochondriac—'

‘I know, and I apologised for that.'

‘You never stuck up for me against the teachers, or when—'

‘I did!'

‘—those girls were having a go at me.'

‘I went in and spoke to the Head.'

‘Yeah, and accepted what she said without question, rolled over and took it because you always bloody do.'

‘You wouldn't tell me what it was about!'

‘I tried to talk to you, but you weren't interested.'

‘When? That's not true, I'd always make time for you!'

‘You were going to some charity thing. I was following you round the house trying to speak to you and all you were
bothered about was the fact that your stupid fucking Stetson wouldn't fit.'

‘I don't remember that.'

‘Yes, you do. You had to borrow a load of line-dancing gear off Moira. I wanted to talk to you that night and you didn't have time for me.'

‘I didn't know! How was I supposed to know?'

‘The trouble with you is, you think everyone should just “put up with it and make the best,” of whatever's happening, and that's why Dad kept cheating on you, because you never fought back: you just let him walk all over you.'

‘That's not fair. I did it for you as much as anyone.'

‘Yeah, well, thanks for nothing.' Jaz turned her head, perhaps to check on Matty, and saw my albums out on the floor. ‘And as for these!' She aimed a kick at the nearest one, and my stomach flipped over. ‘Happy fucking Families.'

‘Don't,' I said.

‘Your precious bloody photos. Your version of the past. Not mine! Not the truth! Papering over the fucking cracks. Tell you what, I'm going to start an album of my own that tells the real story. 'Cause all these are one great big
lie
, and I'm sick of lies. I've had a lifetime's-worth of them.'

She dropped to her haunches and scowled at the open page. I thought for one awful minute she was going to start ripping the album apart but instead she pointed furiously. ‘Look at this one here. Solange bloody Moreau. You let her get away with murder, coming down in the night to watch TV, turning her nose up at everything you put on her plate then raiding the cupboards when she felt like it. Telling me off if I so much as held a fork wrong, like I was about five. You ruined that visit for me. She knew she could do exactly what she liked and you'd say nothing.'

‘She was a guest. She was a long way from home.'

‘She used to laugh at you, did you know? Behind your back. She thought you were such a pushover. You know she was a thief? That she shoplifted a whole load of stuff? Ooh, but you thought she was Little Girl Lost, away from her mummy. You were pathetic.'

‘I didn't know.'

‘You'd never have taken any notice if I'd told you.'

‘That's not true.'

Over in the corner, Matty was still clinging to the curtain, rolling himself against the wall in a way that made my heart cringe. Jaz whipped the pages over, rewinding, and stabbed at some other crime.

‘That fucking red Fiesta. Remember when you first got it and you drove me round to Penny's house and we sat across the street for an hour?'

‘I never did that.'

‘Oh, yes, you did. You think I'm too young to remember. You bought me a necklace made of sweets. In fact, you had this bag with you, kept bringing stuff out of it, comics and plastic crap. To keep me quiet. You'd come prepared, as ever.'

In all conscience I had forgotten, till she said.

‘And this, Seaworld – my birthday treat, supposedly. All smiley smiley in front of the shark tank, but you were in a foul mood with Dad and you wouldn't talk to him. Wouldn't have a proper row with him and get it out in the open, oh no. Sulked and poisoned the day.'

‘I wasn't sulking,' I said. ‘I was upset and trying to keep myself together. It was very difficult for me sometimes.'

‘You think I don't know what it's like to have a husband who screws around? Remember? Except I
deal with it
. I don't
close my eyes and pretend it's not happening
.'

This inventory of all my failings as a parent: I never realised they'd been catalogued so carefully. Somewhere on the edge of
my consciousness a voice was saying, ‘But you
haven't
been dealing with it, Jaz. That's why I've had to step in.' I didn't dare say that out loud, though. My instinct's always been to appease. I was made that way.

I said: ‘You were always the most important thing in my life; always. No question. I put up with your dad because I thought it was best for you.'

‘Which is a lie. You were too scared to do anything about it.'

‘Because I didn't want to break up the home. I didn't want your childhood disrupted like poor Natalie's. You're only remembering the bad moments. Most of the time we were fine, you had everything you could wish for, and you know, actually for years it worked. Dad and I did care about each other, despite—'

‘Oh yeah, it looks like it.' She stood up again and tossed her hair back, and I got a good look at her face. It was white and furious. ‘No
wonder
I've never been able to hold down a relationship, the twisted model I grew up with. No wonder I picked a man who let me down. You
taught me
to make bad choices. You fucked up my childhood, and now I'm trying to get myself back on track, you're
interfering and lying and fucking everything up again!
'

Jaz scooped up the nearest album and heaved it at the wall. I heard the spine crack, felt the thud through my feet as the album hit the carpet. Pages fanned messily out like a broken bird's wing.

‘That's what I think of your version!' she cried. ‘I don't know whose life this is meant to be in here, but it's not mine.'

‘Please, love, I'm sorry about Ian. I'm so sorry. I was trying—'

‘Too late! Too
fucking
late! Don't you see what you've done? I can never trust you again. At least it's clear what I should do now: I'm not letting you
anywhere near
Matty in future. You're not
fit
. Half-drowning him, standing there while he falls in the
pond, letting complete bastards in the house, and all lies lies lies. You'd probably have let Ian take him off abroad, you'd probably be packing his fucking suitcase for him. Who knows what you're capable of? Standing up in court and testifying against me, I wouldn't be surprised. You're not right and you're certainly not fit to be in charge of a grandchild. Oh no. You've shown me where you stand, you've made your choices.'

‘Listen, I would never – all it was – I was—'

There was actual spittle on her bottom lip, I noticed.

‘No! No excuses! I've had enough of them. I can't believe a word you say any more, so I'm not listening. You take a good look at your grandson, Mum, because I'll tell you now, you're never going to see him again. Ever. That's it. Finished. This farce is over.'

Then she stalked over to the corner where Matty sat rocking, picked him up as though he were a parcel and carried him out of the front door.

Car doors slammed, the engine revved furiously, then they were gone. I don't believe she even paused to strap him into his child seat.

After a moment or two, I staggered into the hall and sank down onto the bottom step. The cold bar of the stair-gate frame dug into my side. I felt as though all my bones had been unjointed.

If I was thinking anything, it was, Let her go, let her have her tantrum, get it out of her system. Give her space before you do anything else.

Which was a mistake, as it turned out, because it gave her time to run.

CHAPTER 21

Photograph 502, Album 5

Location: The Countess hospital, Chester

Taken by: Carol

Subject: Matty aged 6 hours, asleep in his crib under a waffle blanket
.

 

Photograph: 505

Location: the Countess Hospital

Taken by: Carol

Subject: as above, but from close
.

 

Photograph: 512

Location: the Countess Hospital

Taken by: Carol

Subject: the information card above Matty's head showing his name, sex, DOB, birth weight, length, circumference of head
.

 

Photograph 544

Location: Jaz and Ian's lounge

Taken by: Carol

Subject: Matty, four days old, lying on the sofa in a stripy Babygro
.

 

Photograph 585

Location: Jaz and Ian's kitchen

Taken by: Carol

Subject: Matty, one week old, in his car seat, asleep
.

 

Photograph 600

Location: Jaz's bathroom

Taken by: Carol

Subject: Jaz bends over the baby bath, supporting Matty's upper body and head with one hand, and swilling water with the other. Matty is crying
.

Photograph 616

Location: Carol's lounge

Taken by: Ian

Subject: Carol stands in the bay window, cradling two-week-old Matty. Her expression is one of ecstasy
.

They had a beautiful day for it. Akela was supervising from the canal bank, while Brown Owl, stationed on the bridge above, had charge of the plastic ducks. One of the Beavers had been given the honour of blowing the whistle to start the race. The tow path was packed with spectators.

‘Little one not with you today?' asked Dove, pushing past with her clipboard.

I shook my head. ‘I did buy him a duck, because he has a set of them in his bath, and I thought he'd like to see them all together.'

But she was gone, headed for the finishing line to adjudicate there. ‘Who's got my net?' I heard her shout.

Families milled around. I saw a toddler straining at his reins, a group of older kids poking with a stick at something in the water, two teenage girls strolling hip to hip. There were prams and balloons and ice creams and bunting and a whole lot of flesh on show. Uniformed Scouts and Guides were taking round baskets of raffle tickets. It should have been a perfect afternoon.

The whistle went and there was an extended splashing as Akela tipped the ducks over the parapet. Those nearby yelped and stepped back, laughing and brushing at their clothes. I noticed Alice resting against the wooden arms of the lock gate, and Libby next to her. I hoped they wouldn't see me. I wished I'd never come.

Because I'd been so intent on not pursuing Jaz, on giving her space to come round, it had taken me a couple of days to realise she was gone. I'd thought it was a bad sign Ian hadn't been in touch. When I plucked up the courage to ring him, he told me he'd been waiting on silence, like me.

So she hadn't even paused to blast him out, I thought. Just upped and left. That's how angry she was.

I'd driven over, and the house had been shut up. A neighbour saw me peering through the back window, said Jaz had given him four or five pot plants because she was ‘going away and they'd only die if she left them where they were'. Did he know where she was headed? No, he didn't. Of course he didn't. So I'd gone back home and got my emergency key, the key she'd made me swear never to show Ian even though it was his dad's house, and I let myself in.

The first thing I'd done was dash upstairs and check Matty's cot, only to find it stripped. Coming back downstairs, I clocked the pile of post peeping out from behind the door curtain. Even from the hall I could see the kitchen was spookily tidy, no piles of shoes on the mat, no plates to put away. Last, I visited the lounge, stepping over folders of notes and foreign language books. One dictionary was under the table, as though it had been kicked. I'd retrieved it and laid it on the windowsill. The whole place had felt as though it was holding its breath.

Mums and grandmas jostled against me as the crowd moved slowly along the path, following the movement of the ducks. I cast my eye over the bobbing fleet of yellow plastic, wondering which was Matty's, and was crippled suddenly by a fear so intense I could have collapsed there and then on the grass.

‘Watch the lady,' someone said behind me, and a split second afterwards I felt a solid warm mass knock into my
calves. When I looked down it was a girl about Matty's age, not much older, wearing a sunhat that had fallen over her eyes. ‘Sorry,' said the grey-haired woman who was steering her, and she flashed me one of those grandma-to-grandma smiles. It was like a knife in the heart. I had to get away from this tide of cheer.

The tow path being so narrow and the crowd so big, there was almost nowhere for me to go, but I managed to sidestep into the hedge, and from there ease my way back to the wall of the lock-keeper's cottage. Alice and Libby were catching up fast, and I knew I couldn't cope with the encounter. Between the cottage and its breezeblock garage there was a narrow alleyway, what my mother would have called a ginnel, so I slipped quickly into that. This is someone's private property! I was thinking. What in God's name are you doing, Carol? But it didn't stop me. I just kept going.