Someone Like me (11 page)

chapter 21

Back at the hotel later that afternoon I had some time to myself before dinner. I went down to the hotel café and logged onto the internet. First I checked my emails. There were two, one from Fiona and one from Tess. I opened Fiona’s first:

Hi Jasmine,

Have you found out anything about Khaled yet? I texted him and told him I knew he was going out with Miriam.

Fiona

What had she gone and done that for? I noticed she hadn’t asked me about my trip. I was kidding myself that we were ever going to be friends. Tess had a lot more to say in her email:

Hi Jas,

How was the journey? France? Your old man? Is he still alive after meeting you? There have been a few developments here. Khaled came over for a rehearsal and I talked to him after and told him I knew that he had been going out with Miriam. OMG!! I know, yes I really did say that. I didn’t tell him how I knew and I could tell he wasn’t very happy cos he went all sulky after that. He said I’d better not tell. Also he said he hadn’t spoken to the police because they didn’t know he was her boyfriend. Can you believe that? Helen still hasn’t told them – I suppose there’s no  reason why  she  should. And  before  you ask OF  COURSE I didn’t tell him about Helen – or that you and

Fiona
know about it. 

Reply immediately!

Tess

Hi Tess,

All OK here, just a quick update on the detective front. Fiona’s told Khaled she knows about Miriam – Why – who knows how that girl’s mind works? He might think she saw them together on that night in London. At least you don’t need to worry that he’ll think you told her.  Mum says he came round to see me – why? Please find out – that’s an instruction.

More soon,

Jas xxx

I didn’t know what to do after that. After a quick mental debate I went onto
Sadiestyle.
She hadn’t changed her image since I had last looked as far as I could see. I was reading her latest fashion post when I realised Malika was looking over my shoulder.

‘Who’s she?’ she asked.

‘Her name’s Sadie. It’s a fashion blog I follow. She lives in my town. I like her style.’ Malika wrinkled her nose.

‘How old is she? My mum dresses like that.’ I looked at the outfit she was pointing to. Sara was pretty smart looking.

‘She’s seventeen,’ I said.

‘She looks older. Show me some more images.’ I opened up a page where Sadie had the short red bob that I had so carefully cultivated until last week.

‘Her hair is awful,’ said Malika, ‘she’s kind of plastic, don’t you think? I don’t mean to be rude,’ she added hastily. ‘What do I know about fashion?’

I looked at her. Today she was wearing skinny black
trousers and a grey top, with contrasting black and grey scarf and chunky black boots and lots of heavy silver jewellery. She looked good. She had her own style. I looked back at Sadie. Maybe she wasn’t quite as perfect as I had thought. I clicked the screen shut.

‘Hi girls.’

We both looked up.

‘Hi Papa,’ said
Malika.

‘Can I join you?’ he asked. ‘Sara’s gone upstairs to have a shower.’

Malika stood up.

‘Don’t go,’ I said.

‘I need to get something from my room.’ She slipped past Michael. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Jasmine.’
He cleared his throat. ‘I owe you an explanation, I know. I’m pleased you seem to be getting on with Malika.’

‘It makes it easier for you, doesn’t it? Is that why you invited me here, hoping we’d get on and then I would forgive you everything?’

He rubbed his hands over his face.

‘I understand that you’re angry.’

‘Angry?’ I spluttered the word out. I gripped the edges of my chair, my voice rising. ‘Do you know what it has been like for Mum and me? She has never hidden the truth from me – I always knew that you abandoned her when I was just a baby, but now it’s even worse – it turns out that you had got another woman pregnant
at the same time
! I always wanted a sister or brother.’ I was shouting now. Michael looked alarmed. ‘When you abandoned us you ruined her life. If only I’d known you’d swapped me for another baby then I wouldn’t have bothered looking for you.’

‘You looked for me?’

‘Of course I did! As soon as I was old enough to understand I tried to find you. I was convinced that you had made a mistake, that something was preventing you from coming back to us. I tried for ages to work out where you might have gone but I had to give up in the end, I came to my senses and realised you didn’t want me any more.’ Tears were springing into my eyes now. ‘You had another child that you loved more, another family. Do you know how much that hurts?’ I scrunched my eyes up, determined not to let him see me cry.

‘Jasmine,
let me try and explain. Your mother and I were having problems; we had been for a long time. I behaved badly. Caroline refused to let me see you. Maybe I should have tried harder, but even my own mother cut me out of her life, she adored Caroline, she always had. She’s never met Malika.’

‘So why have you got in touch with Mum now after all this time?’

‘Caroline contacted me.’

‘No she didn’t! She told me that you needed to get some documents from Gran.’ As I was speaking I could see from his expression that Mum had lied to me. I sat back down, the breath taken out of me.

‘She contacted me completely out of the blue to let me know my mother was ill.  She  said  Mum  had been talking about me, reminiscing.’ I could picture the scene, Mum often started rambling down the phone after a few glasses of wine. ‘Naturally I asked about you, I told her I would like to see you but she refused to talk about it. She rang me the next day and told me to forget that she had rung, but it was too late by then. I went to see Mum in the care home.’ He screwed up his face. ‘That was hard.  I’ve  always  hoped   she   would   agree   to  meet Malika but she refused. She wasn’t very rational though, she was all over the place. She loves you so much, Jasmine, I think she thought she would be betraying you if she let another grandchild into her life. I know how involved she has been in your upbringing.’

‘Why didn’t you tell
Malika about me sooner?’

‘Once Sara was pregnant and I had been outcast by my family I cut off all ties. Sara knew about you of course, but she knew I didn’t want to talk about it. The question of telling
Malika didn’t really arise. I suppose I hoped I would never have to deal with the situation. Burying my head in the sand, as usual, hoping things would go away.’

‘Like telling
Malika six months ago?’

‘I know, I know. I always meant to tell her, but I kept putting it off and before I knew it she was a teenager already. But she’s a great kid, I knew she’d look out for you; she’s a very kind person.’ He paused. ‘Sara has had her own problems to deal with and
Malika is fiercely protective of her. She must get that from her mother – it certainly doesn’t come from me.’

Silence filled the room. Not an uncomfortable silence.
What  he  had  said  made  sense,  it fitted with what Mum had said about him leaving. It didn’t mean I forgave him.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and
Malika sat back down.

‘I’ve been trying to
apologise,’ Michael said, looking at her. ‘I apologise to you too, for not telling you about Jasmine earlier.’

‘I forgive you,’ she said,
‘but  you’ll  do it again won’t you? You’re always so secretive.’

‘No I’m not,’ he said. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Like  when  I ask  exactly  what  it  is you do at work and you refuse to talk about it. Or what about when you went to Belgium?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘The trip you went on at the end of May. You missed my birthday, remember?’ Michael shifted about on his chair, then stood up. Malika carried on talking. ‘You were gone longer than usual and when I asked about it you bit my head off. I wanted to know what was so important that you had to miss my birthday. I get now why you would never talk about England but it hurt me every time you shut me out. I just wanted to find out about my roots and what makes me who I am. Like Mum and her Moroccan side – I’ve gone really far back with my family tree for that side of the family, but I know next to nothing about you.’

Michael held his hands up in the air and went to the door. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. ‘Girls, I’m sorry. I’ll try and make it up to you, both of you.’ He stood up and walked out of the room.

Malika’s face was flushed. I’d never seen her so distressed before.

‘Let’s go out,’ I said. ‘Show me the area. Forget about Michael.’

She smiled ruefully. We both knew it would be impossible to think about anything else.

It was early evening and the area was buzzing. Little grocers shops with racks of
colourful fruit and veg were still open, interspersed with smart clothes and jewellery shops, some of which had started the process of winding  down  for  the evening.  The tables outside the cafes were still full of people, drinking coffees and beers, heated discussions were taking place with old men in fishing jackets gesticulating at one another, smoking  furiously.  Buses  and  cars  hurtled  down  the street and people headed purposefully towards the nearest Metro station, St Paul, disappearing down the steps into the tunnels underneath our feet.

‘Would you like an ice cream?’
Malika asked.

I shook my head. My throat was too tight. She linked her arm through mine.

‘A drink then,’ she said. She led me down a side street to a little bar with a couple of tables outside. ‘You sit here,’ she said. I pulled a chair sideways so that the sun’s rays fell on my face, warming me outside, but having no effect on my cold insides. Michael’s words were still swimming around in my head. Malika emerged with two glasses and poured us each some water from a carafe on the table.

I watched her as she carefully licked her ice
cream, she was so unlike any of my friends at home.

‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.

‘You,’ I said.  ‘I’m trying to understand what it must be like for you, living with Michael, then me turning up. Are you angry with him?’

She shook her head. ‘Not angry, disappointed. I wish he could have been honest with me – and
Maman – all along. ‘He made mistakes, yes, but it was a long time ago now.’

‘How can you say that? Time doesn’t mean it’s any less wrong.’

She frowned. ‘I meant we must put the mistakes behind us – good things have come out of it after all. I’ve met you.’

‘I thought it would be hard for you finding out about
your Grandma.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Grandma taking Mum’s side and refusing to see you. He  said  he always wanted her to meet you.’ Realisation dawned on me. ‘That’s what Gran meant, last time I went. You’re
the other one
.’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about. Besides, she’s not related to me. There’s no reason for her to want to see me.’

I stared at her. ‘She’s Michael’s mother. Your grandmother. Our grandmother,’ I added quietly.

Malika’s
eyes widened. ‘But I thought my grandparents were dead! Isn’t she your maternal grandmother?’ I shook my head. ‘How could he do that?’ Her face seemed to fall apart.

I talked rapidly. ‘Gran adored Mum and when they split up she blamed Michael completely. She took Mum’s side. She knew about the other woman and refused to speak to him again. Now she has Alzheimer’s
and  has  to  live  in  a home. Gran told me Michael had been to see her. Sometimes now she doesn’t recognise me but last time was awful. She shouted at me and said she’d told Michael that she didn’t want to see me. She must have got confused and thought I was you. She screamed at me to get out… the nurse told me he’d been in to see her just the week before.’ Surprise registered on Malika’s face. ‘I’m sorry Malika, I didn’t realise you didn’t know who Gran was.’

Malika
was crying, her ice cream forgotten and dripping into the cornet. I took it from her and dumped the remains in the ashtray on the table and put my hand on her arm.

‘Please  don’t
  cry.  Gran will come round. I’ll talk to her when she’s having one of her lucid moments – she’ll see you if I ask her – when I tell her what a lovely person you are.’ A tear was threatening to emerge and I rubbed  furiously  at my eyes. ‘I can show you a photo if you like.’ I rummaged around in my bag for my phone. Malika sniffed.

‘I’d like that.’

I scrolled through my photographs, looking for Gran. I wanted to find a photo that would do her justice.

‘When did Papa visit her?’ she asked. ‘How recently was it?’

‘About a month ago,’ I said, calculating quickly in my head.

‘But Michael hasn’t been to England for years. He told me, it’s taken him so long to agree to move back there. I thought you were mistaken when you mentioned it earlier.’