The Marriage Mender (27 page)

‘He doesn’t,’ I said.

‘How can you be so sure?’

I hesitated before replying, but I felt it would help Jayne to know.

‘Because he’s my husband.’

Jayne stared at me. Her eyes bulged wide. She put her hand to her mouth.

‘I’m sorry it’s come as such a shock,’ I said. ‘It was quite a shock for me too when you told me.’

‘You’re quite certain it’s him?’

‘Yes, the dates tie up and everything. Obviously, if you wanted to have DNA tests done, that could be arranged. Or you could do the whole thing through Social Services, get them to check their adoption records.’

She shook her head, still looking utterly bewildered. ‘No,’ she said. ‘There’s no need, is there? Not if you’re certain.’

‘I am.’

‘So, you’re my daughter-in-law?’

‘Yes. That’s why I can’t continue being your counsellor, you see.’

‘Well I’ll be jiggered,’ said Bob. ‘I didn’t see that one coming.’

I smiled at him. At both of them.

Jayne was the first to speak. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Chris,’ I said. ‘Chris Bentley. The doctor’s receptionist who found him was called Christine, that’s why they chose it. On his original birth certificate he was given the surname of Illingworth, but the couple who adopted him changed it to their surname.’

‘Are they still alive?’ Jayne asked.

‘His adoptive mother is. His adoptive father died several years ago. He had a very happy childhood with them and he’s still close to his adoptive mother.’

Jayne turned to Bob, and a smile flickered on to her face. ‘I’ve found him,’ she said. ‘I never thought it possible.’

Bob smiled and reached over to grasp her hand.

‘Have you got a photograph?’ she asked me. Her voice had a note of childlike excitement.

I reached for my bag. I had thought she might ask. I handed her a photograph of Chris and Matilda I’d taken on holiday the previous year.

A gasp caught in her throat, her hand trembled as she held it, and a moment later she was crying, properly crying. So much so that Bob took the photo from her and put it on the coffee table to stop it getting wet. We sat either
side of her, holding a hand each, as if pumping forty-four years’ worth of pain and suffering from her.

‘He’s still got his hair,’ she sobbed, ‘he’s still got all that lovely dark hair.’

I nodded and smiled and brushed away my own tears.

‘The little girl?’ she asked.

‘Your granddaughter, Matilda. She’s nine.’

Jayne grasped hold of the rest of my arm. Her whole body was shaking. I put my arms around her. The woman who had given up everything to give birth to the man I loved.

‘Thank you,’ I whispered. ‘Because if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have either of them.’

‘How will I explain to her why I abandoned her father?’

‘You won’t have to,’ I said. ‘We’ll do that for you. And we’ll tell her that giving up your child so they can have a better life is just about the most selfless thing you can do.’

Bob handed Jayne a tissue from the box on the table. She smiled at him and blew her nose. Took another and dabbed at her eyes. I decided not to tell her about Josh. Not yet, anyway. This was her moment of joy after so many years of hurt. I didn’t want that tainted for her. There’d be plenty of time in the coming days and weeks to fill her in.

‘So do I take it that you’d like to meet him?’

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I would.’

I found out he leaves comments on loads of pages on Facebook. Like the BBC
Look North
one. They’d posted a photo of their new weathergirl and he’d left a comment saying ‘Probably would’. When I checked back, he’d done hundreds of them, any time someone posted a picture of a relatively attractive female. One of them was only fourteen, for fuck’s sake.

So I packed my bags then and there. Left a note for him on the kitchen table. It said ‘Probably wouldn’t’.

‘What are you thinking?’ I asked Chris.

We were sitting in his car, which was parked outside our house. We hadn’t gone anywhere yet. He hadn’t even got as far as putting the key in the ignition. But already it seemed like a very long journey.

‘What if I don’t like her?’

‘It’s not obligatory to like her.’

‘No, but usually guys who don’t like their mothers are complete wankers.’

I smiled. ‘Remember what Tania said? You might not feel anything at all for her. That would be perfectly normal.’

‘It doesn’t seem right, though. Feeling nothing for the woman who gave birth to you.’

He still hadn’t used the ‘M’ word. Maybe he never would. It belonged very firmly to Barbara. I understood that, and
I suspected Jayne would too. It was only Chris who seemed to feel bad about it.

‘It really doesn’t matter what you feel. What’s important is that you’re giving her the chance to meet you.’

‘Yeah, I guess you’re right,’ said Chris. ‘You usually bloody are.’

He was smiling as he said it. I smiled back.

‘She’s going to be overjoyed to see you. It’s her moment, you don’t have to do anything or feel anything, OK?’

He nodded. Pulled his seat belt across. Started the engine.

‘Right then,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

We’d agreed between us that the first meeting should be at Jayne and Bob’s house. It needed to be somewhere private, and my counselling offices were too formal. Besides, I was off their case now. This was a personal thing.

They lived in Brighouse. The sort of neat 1930s semi-detached which I had been expecting. We pulled up behind their Rover on the tarmac drive. Chris took his seat belt off. Let go of a long sigh.

‘It’s going to be fine,’ I said. ‘Just be prepared for the fact that she’ll probably be very emotional.’

He looked at me and nodded. We got out of the car and stood on the doorstep, Chris holding the bouquet of flowers he’d bought in town. He rang the bell. It started playing ‘Greensleeves’.

Chris turned to me, unable to suppress a smile. ‘Do you reckon there are gnomes in the back garden as well?’ he whispered.

The door opened. Bob was standing there, his face running through the whole gamut of emotions, like some weird computer game where you have to click on the appropriate expression for the moment.

‘Hi, Bob,’ I said.

‘Hello, Alison. And you must be Chris.’ He offered his hand.

Chris shook it. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said.

‘I take it those aren’t for me?’ said Bob, pointing at the flowers.

Chris managed a polite smile.

‘Come in. Let me take your coats. She’s in the lounge.’

I stepped inside. It felt as if we were waiting for an audience with the Queen. Jayne wasn’t doing it to be grand or aloof, though. I suspected she was actually rooted to the spot through sheer terror.

We followed Bob into the lounge. Jayne was sitting in an armchair in the corner. She stood up. Her eyes locked on Chris. She bit her bottom lip and blinked furiously. I looked at Chris. Heard a stifled sound from inside. And a second later they were embracing in the middle of the room. I couldn’t be sure who had moved first or how fast. But they were now locked together. Both crying, both holding on very tight.

I turned to Bob. Smiled at him through blurry eyes and squeezed his shoulder. He nodded in acknowledgement. We both knew this was their moment. We were merely onlookers. Although we also knew that our lives would be changed irrevocably by this.

It was a long time before anyone said anything. It was Jayne’s voice which finally broke through the tears.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said to Chris, pulling away slightly and clasping his hands. ‘I’m so sorry for what I did.’

He shook his head. ‘Ali’s told me what happened. You haven’t got anything to apologise for.’

‘Yes, I have,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s unforgivable, what I did to you.’

‘What, gave up everything just to give birth to me? I owe my life to you. That’s pretty amazing in my book.’

‘I couldn’t look after you, not on my own,’ said Jayne. ‘I was worried that, if I’d kept you, they’d have come and taken you away from me. Taken you back to live with him and my sister. And I couldn’t bear that, you see. Not after what he did to me.’

She took a tissue from the pocket in her blouse and wiped her eyes. The sixteen-year-old girl seemed so close to the surface that I could almost see her, peering anxiously out of Jayne’s eyes.

‘Thank you,’ Chris said. ‘You did the right thing. I was brought up by wonderful parents. I couldn’t have been happier, really. And even when they told me about what had really happened, I didn’t hate you. I have never hated you.’

Jayne started crying again. Or rather, started a fresh round of crying; she had never really stopped. Bob sat her down on the sofa. Chris sat on the other side of her. Jayne still had hold of his hand.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m not normally this emotional.’

‘There’s no need to apologise,’ I said. ‘This is massive. And it’s all happened very quickly.’

‘I never thought I’d see you again,’ she said to Chris. ‘I didn’t even dare picture you in my head.’

‘That’s probably a bit of luck,’ Chris said. ‘You might have been disappointed.’

Bob chuckled. Jayne was perhaps going to take a bit longer to get used to her son’s sense of humour.

‘You look like my father,’ she said. ‘He had hair like yours.’

‘So I don’t look like –’

‘No,’ said Jayne quickly. ‘Not at all.’

‘Good,’ Chris said. ‘I was worried I might. And that it would upset you.’

‘Nothing can upset me,’ Jayne said. ‘Not today.’

Chris smiled at her. ‘Ali says your daughter’s expecting.’

‘Yes. In February. Everyone was saying it would be my first grandchild, yet all the time I knew that might not be true. Then, when I saw the photo of you and Matilda …’

Jayne’s voice broke off again. I looked at Chris. We’d agreed we would tell her about Josh today. We didn’t want to hide anything from her any longer.

‘Matilda wasn’t your first grandchild, actually,’ said Chris.

Jayne looked across at him, the frown momentarily back on her face. I realised that she might be thinking we’d lost a baby or something.

‘Chris has a son from a previous relationship,’ I said quickly. ‘His name’s Josh.’

‘Oh. How old is he?’

‘He’s sixteen.’

‘So does he live with you or his mum?’

‘He lives with us,’ said Chris, ‘only not at the moment.’

Jayne was still looking at him. As was Bob.

Chris fiddled with his watch strap before continuing. ‘He ran away from home,’ he said. ‘About six months ago. His mum walked out on him when he was a baby and I brought him up on my own, but she came back last year and that led to a lot of problems. And then she told him I wasn’t his father.’

‘What an awful thing to say,’ said Jayne.

‘Yeah. He was gone the next morning. We’ve since found out that she was lying but, well, the damage had already been done.’

‘So you’ve no idea where he is?’

‘Not really,’ said Chris. ‘He could be anywhere.’

‘And he hasn’t been in touch at all?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘He took his phone and his iPad with him. His girlfriend and I have been emailing and texting, but we’ve heard nothing back.’

‘Does he know that it was a lie?’ she asked.

‘Yes, his mum even emailed him to apologise,’ I said. ‘Although, of course, we don’t know if he’s actually reading his emails.’

‘Have you emailed him?’ she said, turning to Chris. ‘To tell him that he is your son, I mean.’

‘No, not directly, everyone else got in first.’

‘Well, I think you should,’ said Jayne.

Chris raised his eyebrows, clearly taken aback by her directness.

‘He needs to hear it from his father. He thought he wasn’t yours. He’s lost, you need to reclaim him.’

Chris looked down at his hands. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I suppose I do.’

* * *

We stayed longer than I thought we would. Long enough for two rounds of tea and biscuits. Jayne had a biscuit barrel like Barbara’s. It was strange, two people who were so different, who’d had such different lives, but who still shared the same taste in biscuit barrels.

When it was time to say our goodbyes – or rather, our ‘au revoirs’, as Jayne put it – she held Chris for a long time before she let him go.

She turned to me afterwards. ‘The last time I said goodbye to him –’ she began, before her voice broke.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘But that’s not going to happen again. We’ll see you very soon. You can come to ours next. Meet Matilda, if you want.’

Jayne nodded. ‘I’d like that,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you. And I hope you get Josh back soon.’

I nodded and kissed her softly on the cheek.

Bob shook my hand and then patted it gently. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘for everything. You’ve made her one very happy lady.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘She deserves to be. And thank you for standing by her.’

‘It’s what you do, isn’t it?’ shrugged Bob.

‘No, it’s what you did,’ I said. ‘And not everyone would have done that.’

We got into the car, waved the obligatory number of times as we reversed down the drive, turned round and finally pulled away. I imagined Jayne standing there, tears rolling down her face. Bob holding her, patting her hand and seeing her safely back inside where he’d no doubt put the kettle on.

I glanced at Chris. He was staring straight ahead. His eyes still moist.

‘You needn’t have worried that you wouldn’t feel anything, then.’

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head.

* * *

I spent a long time putting Matilda to bed that night. Lingering over the bedtime story, snuggling with her under the duvet, listening to her ramblings about what kind of frog Kermit might actually be.

She may have been our only child, but she’d never really been an only child because she had Josh. That was why we’d never had another one. There was no need, we already had two children. Only now, we didn’t. Well, it didn’t seem like it, anyway. Certainly not to Matilda.

‘Where do you think he’s sleeping?’ she asked.

I knew better than to ask who she was talking about. I always understood who ‘he’ was referring to.

‘He might have got himself a little flat,’ I said.

‘Don’t they cost a lot of money?’

‘He’d be renting it. I expect he’s working.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, you need to work to be able to afford a roof over your head.’

‘What if he hasn’t found a job?’

‘I don’t know, love.’

‘Will he be sleeping on a park bench like Mr Stink?’

‘No, sweetheart. There are hostels for people who can’t afford somewhere of their own.’

‘What are hostels?’

‘Big rooms where lots of people can sleep, maybe on bunk beds.’

‘Urrgh. Who’d want to share a room with my smelly brother?’

I smiled at her, imagining how much Josh would be missing that kind of taunt.

‘I’m sure he’ll have made some friends,’ I said.

Matilda nodded and twiddled a strand of hair. ‘He won’t have got a new girlfriend, though, will he?’

‘No. Caitlin’s his girlfriend. You like her, don’t you?’

Matilda nodded. ‘And I don’t want my violin lessons to stop.’

* * *

Chris was sitting in his usual place at the kitchen table when I came down. It was a wonder Matilda hadn’t drawn a picture of him yet with his head sticking out of the top of a Mac.

I glanced at the screen as I walked past. It wasn’t the usual Missing People website, though. It was an email. One that started ‘Dear Josh’.

Chris stood up. ‘I’ll make some coffee,’ he said. ‘Can you read it and tell me what you think?’

I nodded and sat down.