Chapter Ten
Having waved Valentina off to Inverness the evening before, Ezzie entered her office on Monday morning with the sensation of everything being the same but different. The office was the same … but she was different. Lighter. Happier. Cautiously optimistic. Her heart felt funny and fizzy, as if it knew how close she’d come to losing her life in Rothach Hall. She started her computer and thought about Mats sitting in her chair to switch it off after she’d stormed out on Friday. The email she’d been drafting was waiting in her outbox. Her pen and pad lay neatly on her desk.
Gwen bustled in, unaware of the tumult since they’d last seen each other, her neat bun almost exactly the colour of the grey stripes on her dress. ‘It’s a month to Christmas Day. My great-niece Caitriona says she’s filled in the online application for temp staff, as you asked.’
Ezzie found Caitriona’s application and read it quickly. ‘She sounds great, especially as Peony and Georgia have asked for three days over Christmas and two over New Year. I’ll email her and say yes please.’
Gwen beamed. ‘It’ll be grand if Caitriona joins me in the kitchen. She’s a bright and willing lass.’
Ezz was about to answer when she caught the sound of the large front door opening and voices on the air.
Gwen whispered, ‘Those bairns surely love their fresh air. They’re out in their boots and coats every day.’
Then ‘those bairns’ – Astrid and Alvin – bounced in through the office door. ‘It snowed,’ Alvin yelled, his cheeks pink and eyes shining. ‘On my yacket.’
‘It’s jacket in English,’ Astrid reminded him witheringly. ‘But it did snow a bit. Tiny flakes blowing around.’ She beamed at Ezz, who beamed right back. They were such beautiful children. In their snowsuits and woolly hats, blond curls peeking out, they looked like models from a magazine.
Grete and Mats crowded in, propelling the children further into the room. Grete looked more relaxed than lately and even wore her usual twinkly smile. ‘Ezzie,’ she began.
‘It’s Christmas !’ Alvin burst in, bouncing on his boots, leaving damp spots on the carpet. He bounded up to Ezz’s desk. ‘Scottish Christmas, and pudding.’
Smiling, Ezz leant over the desk. ‘Gwen and I were just talking about Christmas, and I was wondering what your family would like.’
‘Christmas with presents,’ Astrid said helpfully.
‘Definitely with presents,’ Mats agreed, grinning. ‘But they’re Santa’s department, not Ezzie’s. And when we said we’d need to discuss Christmas with Ezzie, we meant Farmor and me. And not necessarily the instant we reached home.’
‘But it’s only a month to Christmas,’ Astrid pointed out. ‘You said. And that Emil, Filip, Walter, Liam and Ronja are coming in less than three weeks, straight after Lucia Day.’ To Ezzie she added, ‘Lucia Day is when the light comes. We couldn’t be in the procession this year, because we’re here.’
Grete patted Astrid’s head. ‘It’s a Swedish tradition, is it not? The children carry candles and we go to church.’
‘That sounds wonderful.’ Ezzie shifted her gaze to encompass Mats and Grete. ‘Whenever you’d like to—’
‘We have julbord ,’ Alvin interrupted, clambering onto the only empty chair.
‘We’d accomplish more if you children went indoors to Josefin instead of interrupting.’ Grete raised her brows.
Astrid and Alvin immediately quieted. Grete’s words seemed to signal that a meeting had been declared, because she stripped the children of their snowsuits while Mats carried in extra chairs.
‘Would anybody like a drink?’ Gwen offered, taking control of the pod machine. The adults chose coffee and the children hot chocolate, which Gwen topped up with cold water for safety’s sake.
Mats threw his coat over the back of his chair. ‘This is a special Christmas for us in Scotland, so we’d like to choose the best of everything. In Sweden, our main day is Christmas Eve and here it’s Christmas Day – so let’s have both.’
‘We’ve arranged it with Jultomten – that’s Santa – to bring half the presents on Christmas Eve and half on Christmas Day,’ Grete added solemnly. ‘On Christmas Eve we’ll prepare a julbord of herring, meatballs, saffron buns, and all our traditional treats. As I’m Norwegian, we usually have cloudberry cream, too. Do you know cloudberries? They look like your blackberries but are golden. Apparently, they grow in Scotland too.’ She looked enquiringly from Ezzie to Gwen.
‘We can look into getting some,’ Ezz returned, writing it on her pad, trying not to betray that she’d never heard of cloudberries.
Gwen sounded dubious. ‘Perhaps we’ll get them online, frozen or dried if not fresh.’
Grete looked horrified. ‘Then I will ask my daughter Maja to bring some. On Christmas Day, we will like a traditional Scottish Christmas dinner. Please remind me what it is.’
‘Like anywhere else in the UK, really,’ Gwen began. ‘Turkey, roast potatoes, pigs in blankets—’
Astrid and Alvin burst into giggles. ‘Pigs in blankets ?’ Astrid spluttered. ‘I want my pig in a duvet. Or a sleeping bag.’ She almost fell off her chair with laughter.
‘In … a car,’ Alvin suggested, bouncing in his seat.
‘No, the cars are for the ponies.’ Astrid was obviously enjoying the flight of fancy.
Ezz grinned at their giggles. ‘Pigs in blankets are just small sausages wrapped in bacon.’
‘Aw.’ Alvin looked deeply disappointed and climbed onto his grandmother’s lap to suck his thumb.
When the food had been discussed, Ezz said, ‘The Christmas trees are coming soon and we’ll need extra decorations for them. I wondered whether you’d be choosing them or—’
‘Yes,’ Astrid said with alacrity. ‘Farmor just said we didn’t bring any tomtar with us, but that’s OK because we’re in Scotland.’
Ezz glanced at Mats for enlightenment. ‘Part of our folklore,’ he explained. ‘ Tomtar are what you might think of as trolls. They live under our houses. They’re a bit mischievous, but they keep us safe. At Christmas, they form part of the decorations.’
While Ezz was trying to imagine this, Gwen went back to work and Grete said she’d leave the choosing to the others and go upstairs to rest. Ezz somehow found Astrid climbing on her knee, asking, ‘Can we see decorations on your computer?’ Then Mats plonked his chair beside hers and scooped up Alvin, and they made a happy group raiding online stockists for angels, lights, baubles, tinsel, balloons and a small artificial tree for the children’s playroom. Only one supplier said they didn’t deliver to the Scottish Highlands – not that Skye was technically part of the Highlands – and the rest promised delivery by the weekend.
The only tricky moment was when Alvin corkscrewed round on Mats’ lap to say, ‘Will Mamma come for Christmas?’
Mats held him tightly. ‘She’s with Andreas this year, lillen , and you and Astrid are at Rothach Hall with me. But we can FaceTime Mummy after lunch.’
‘Yeah,’ said Astrid instantly.
Alvin just shrugged and rested his head tiredly against Mats’ shoulder. Ezz’s heart melted when she saw Mats drop a consoling kiss on his son’s blond hair. Although she’d never reached a place in her life where a child of her own seemed a great idea, she sometimes felt she was missing out and wished that her nephew Barnaby lived closer. She was looking forward to having him at her place over Christmas, though.
‘I wonder what Josefin’s making you for lunch?’ Mats said, probably as a distraction.
‘Pepparkaka.’ Alvin perked up.
Mats laughed and gave the tiny body an extra hug. ‘Gingerbread? She’s making that for Sunday. You and Astrid will help, I think.’
Astrid slid from Ezzie’s lap and rubbed her tummy. ‘I’m hungry.’
Mats gathered up their outdoor things. ‘It is lunchtime, so that’s good. Thanks for all your help, Ezz.’ He dropped his voice. ‘Everything OK? I think Mum’s decided to act as if she never saw the resignation letters.’
She found herself smiling into his eyes, seeing only kindness there. When she’d found him strange and distant at first, he’d probably been uptight and anxious about his children – and his ex-wife, of course. Catching herself wondering what closeness remained between Mats and Inger, she accompanied him to the door. ‘That sounds comfortable. Thank you.’
She watched him follow his children, nodding pleasantly to a middle-aged couple who were hovering by the reception desk, which Orla had strung with twinkling fairy lights. A bowl of cones lent their piny scent to the air. The woman was short and rounded, her brown hair streaked with grey. The man had lost his hair altogether and was taller but stooped, with blue eyes and weather-roughened cheeks. Ezz turned to them. ‘Hello, can I help you? Sorry, the receptionist must have gone to lunch. We don’t get many visitors in winter.’ The couple stared at her.
‘Are you looking for the public rooms?’ Ezz asked pleasantly. Then her attention flew back to the man. ‘Oh, you were here a few weeks ago … ? You must have enjoyed your visit.’ She smiled, remembering how he’d hovered on the drive and needed encouraging indoors.
The man beamed. ‘I enjoyed it very much. It’s nice you remember me.’
The woman took a tiny tentative step. ‘You’re Esmerelda Wynter. We’ve come to see you.’
‘Me?’ Ezz was puzzled by the way the woman’s knuckles had whitened around her bag strap. Then misgivings struck as she remembered someone had once threatened to sue the hall after they’d tripped on the stairs. It had been during Tavish’s time as manager. Mindful of Grete and Mats on the other side of the door to the family side, she took a step back. ‘Would you like to come into my office?’
‘Thank you.’ The woman sounded faint, as if being arrested or something, but trying her best to be brave.
The man rested a reassuring hand on her back, and they entered, glancing about the polished, comfortable room. The additional seats were still ranged around, and they selected two.
After Ezz had seated herself on her own side of the desk, she covered a rising sense of apprehension with a smile. ‘What brought you here today?’
They exchanged glances. Then the woman said waveringly, ‘This is my husband, Rick Colville, and I’m Kay Colville. But I used to be called Kay Loveless.’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘And you used to be called Lindy Loveless.’
A buzzing began in Ezz’s ears. She stared at the frightened-looking woman, trying to rehear the words and check whether there could be any interpretation other than the one that had blazed into her mind. She, Ezzie, used to be called … ? The room seemed to shimmer. A sudden noise at the window startled her and she glanced up to see hailstones bouncing from the glass like handfuls of white pearls. She’d become so cold that she could have been standing out there.
But then came a strange feeling in her chest, as if her heart recognised the small, uncertain woman in the room. ‘You’re …’
The woman’s voice shook harder. ‘I’m your birth mother.’ She gulped. ‘Oh, dear. Could I have a glass of water?’
Ezz had to force her legs to carry her to the water cooler and fill three glasses. Rather than pass the drinks into waiting hands and risk skin touching skin, she placed their glasses on their side of the desk. Resuming her seat on legs like cooked spaghetti, she lifted her own glass to her lips and sipped, the rim chattering against her teeth.
Though she’d heard people say, I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, she’d never really believed it … until now, when disbelief was making her feel disconnected and distant. The woman – Kay – had dark, shy eyes, which seemed to drink Ezzie in. An attractive sixty-something, despite requesting the water, she hadn’t reached for it, but kept her hands fisted in the lap of her navy-blue skirt.
Ezz dragged her gaze away from Kay to study Rick, his pale skin the type that went pink at the least thing, like hers. He sent her a tentative flicker of a smile. Her voice emerged as a croak. ‘And are you … ?’
The light that leapt into his blue eyes made them look suddenly familiar. ‘I’m your birth father,’ he said huskily, and his eyes rimmed pink, to match his cheeks.
A million questions crowded Ezz’s brain. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her birth father was with her mother? Had they been in touch all this time? Her eyelids fluttered, as if she were about to faint.
Kay shifted nervously. ‘Sorry we’ve surprised you. Rick came before, as you realised, but I couldn’t come then. We looked you up online.’ Her hands twisted in her lap. ‘They tell you not to do it this way, don’t they? They tell you to go through an intermediary and get counselling. Sorry that I couldn’t wait.’ She looked at Rick and gave him a wan smile.
Rick returned it with the kind of affection that spoke of years of love. ‘I think we should tell her our story.’ He turned to Ezz, his frown suddenly anxious. ‘But we don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss.’
Automatically, Ezz glanced at the clock and managed to unstick her tongue. ‘This can be my lunch hour.’
Rick rose and made to close the office door.
Ezz stopped him. ‘It’s not that kind of job. If anyone comes to talk to me, I’ll need to deal with it.’
He exchanged looks with Kay but resumed his seat. He was tall and loose-limbed. Involuntarily, Ezz glanced down at her own willowy frame.
Unsteadily, Kay reached for the water and sipped. Then she fixed her brown eyes on Ezz again and began. ‘Rick and I went out together at school. I was fifteen and Rick was seventeen when we realised you were on the way. I was about sixteen weeks pregnant by the time I confessed. Mum and Dad went crazy. My mum …’ Anxiety puckered her forehead and she had to sip more water. ‘She was old-fashioned. She tutted at girls in revealing clothes or boys who wore earrings. My parents called our lovemaking “misbehaving” that “reflected badly on them”.’ Her lip wobbled. Rick took her hand. Ezz was incapable of doing more than listen in stunned silence.
‘They turned into jailers, walking either side of me if I went out,’ she went on in a shaky voice. ‘Friends who saw me in town shied away. School excluded me – but I wasn’t sorry because everybody made me feel dirty and ashamed. I had lessons with other pregnant schoolgirls in a small room at a place we called “the unit”.’ She barked a short laugh. ‘Any school boys involved in our pregnancies remained at their usual schools, of course.’
‘That wasn’t fun either,’ Rick put in morosely, colour suffusing his entire head. ‘There was a lot of talk. And Kay’s parents wouldn’t let me near her. Literally slammed the door in my face. My mum and dad were a bit more understanding. But when the social services asked if they’d like the baby – you – to live with them, they still said no.’
A strange feeling snaked through Ezz at the idea of all the grandparents involved rejecting a helpless baby.
‘You were seventeen, Rick,’ Kay said patiently, as if this was an old argument. ‘I was underage. Everyone blamed you.’
‘I was to blame. But we could have got married as soon as you were sixteen,’ Rick said obstinately. ‘If your parents would have allowed it.’
Kay wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Her nose and eyes were red, and she wore the weary air of someone used to tears. ‘I didn’t stand up to my parents. If you read the timeline of adoption in England and Wales, it will tell you that forced adoptions had stopped by 1980, when you were born, but that means “forced” by social workers and courts. But also there’s “forced by circumstance”. My parents worked on terrifying me. My life would be ruined. That boy had ruined it. Having sex under sixteen was illegal. I could protect you from being called a bastard by giving you up for adoption, whereas keeping you would be selfish and make Mum and Dad live with the shame. They owned a house in a nice street and said we weren’t the kind of family to have illegitimate kids running around.’ Her eyes burned into Ezz, and Ezz felt immobile in their tractor beam. ‘They said I couldn’t keep you if I lived with them,’ Kay choked. ‘So, I’d be out on the streets. The social worker did say that she’d do what she could to help if I wanted to keep you. She was never clear about how or when, and I used to think that I might end up trying to look after you while we both lived under a hedge. No defined alternative was actually offered. I was … a silenced voice.’
Slowly, Rick took an old photograph from his pocket and placed it on the desk.
Ezz’s gaze fell to its burred corners and faded colours. A curly-haired teenage girl smiled bashfully in the shelter of the embracing arm of a gangly youth with hair that fell forward over his forehead, the rest brushed back behind his ears. It was blond, straight hair, like Ezz’s and his smile was sharp at the corners and his nose very straight, also like Ezz’s.
The hail rattled against the window again. The room grew dimmer as big, bruised clouds sank lower over Rothach Hall. Normally, Ezz would have switched on the lights, but she felt unable to move. This was what she’d both dreamed of and feared since she was old enough to consider what it meant not to have been born to Maxie and Vince, the wonderful couple who’d loved her and protected her and earned the right to be called ‘Mum and Dad’.
In the face of Ezz’s unyielding silence, Kay sighed. ‘I gave birth to you in hospital. You were so beautiful and looked just like Rick. I had you with me for a day, then you were gone.’
‘As Kay wasn’t allowed to contact me, I found out from the social worker that you’d been born,’ Rick supplemented. ‘It was a weird feeling. I was angry. I got in fights. I left school without finishing my A levels and got an apprenticeship as a bricklayer. I’ve got a building company, now.’
Ezz just listened. She felt heavy and stiff, as if made from new leather.
‘I did my O and A levels at a different school,’ said Kay, who seemed caught up on conveying details. ‘Mum and Dad still treated me like a naughty kid, but the social worker told me something important – that education is the key to a better life and—’ she leant forward ‘— independence . She used to say it emphatically like that. I think she realised my mum cowed me and I needed to get out from under her thumb.’
‘Worked, didn’t it?’ said Rick. He smiled into her eyes.
Surprise made Ezz find her voice. ‘You’re together now?’
Kay smiled, looking relieved that Ezz had broken her silence. ‘Yes. We’re married.’ Pleasure rang in her voice.
Ezz fought to straighten this out in her head. ‘Like … you met each other again later? Recently?’
Both Rick and Kay’s smiles faded. ‘We got married when I was eighteen,’ Kay explained. ‘The day I was dropped off at uni, I wrote to Rick and told him where I was.’
‘I drove straight there.’ Rick’s blue eyes shone. ‘She was eighteen and away from her parents. I’d finished my apprenticeship. We went to the register office and made the arrangements. By the time the notices had gone up and all that, I’d changed jobs to one near her uni and found us a rented flat. We got married.’ Triumph rang in his voice, and maybe an echo of disbelief, as if marvelling at their own actions.
‘I didn’t tell Mum and Dad for ages,’ Kay admitted, looking at Ezz apologetically. ‘I studied hard. Rick worked hard, to keep us both. I’d finished my entire first year at university before we went back to my parents’ house together and told them.’
‘I thought your mum was going to lay into me,’ Rick said sombrely. ‘Especially when it became obvious that there was nothing they could do, and my parents had known for months. Your mum was wild .’
Kay winced. ‘She could be a difficult person,’ she explained to Ezz. ‘Hard to ignore but hard to get along with. Excellent at emotional blackmail.’
A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. A flash of lightning lit the room.
Rick leant forward, as if to make certain that Ezz could hear him. ‘I wanted Kay to stay away from her parents. Her mum was domineering, and her dad didn’t try to intervene. They hadn’t earned her love, but she felt duty to them. Those months before we admitted we were married were lovely.’ He folded his arms, and then his legs. ‘It took her parents about five years to thaw enough towards me to be civil, but we never forgave each other.’
Ezz stared at him, fascinated by the colour of his eyes, so like her own.
He took out his phone, fiddled with it for a moment, then laid it on the desk facing Ezz. This time the image was the pin-sharp phone-camera display she was used to. Two women grinned out of the camera, both with mousy, wavy hair, one flowing and the other bobbed. They were curvy, wearing ribbed T-shirt dresses and flip-flops. The one with bobbed hair rested an arm affectionately on the shoulder of the other.
Rick’s voice seemed to come from a long way off. ‘Julia and Iona. They’re your sisters.’
She gazed into the screen, something rising like bile in her throat. Thea and Valentina were her sisters … not these strangers. ‘You didn’t give them away then?’ she asked bluntly.
The awkward pause felt as if it could shatter, like glass. Kay stammered, ‘W-we were married by then. It wasn’t the same.’
Ezz sat back without touching the phone, which she imagined would be warm from Rick’s pocket. Her father.
Rick’s face crumpled. ‘When a child’s adopted, you can’t ask for them back. You were gone. You had a new name and a new family, but you weren’t forgotten. We always went out on your birthday, just us two, and we drank your health. And cried.’
Ezz sucked in air, and it felt like the first proper breath for ages. ‘And every year, on my birthday, I feel sad that it’s the anniversary of the worst day of someone’s life.’
Kay’s eyes widened. Passionately, she cried, ‘That wasn’t the worst day. The worst day was when they took you away!’ Tears had begun to ease from her eyes, and her top lip squared off as if she were fighting a sob. ‘No warning and hardly a goodbye. Just pills to stop my milk and an assurance that I’d have other kids. I was sent home the same day, and Mum told me to put it behind me.’
‘It?’ Ezz whispered, shaken by the sordid account. Valentina’s jokes about them being mistakes that had been swept under the carpet didn’t seem so funny now she knew it was true. She fought for composure, to quell her rising rage and think clearly about the present. ‘Why have you come looking for me now? If you got married in late 1983, that’s decades ago.’
Her sharp gaze caught an exchange of uneasy glances. ‘It was difficult,’ Kay muttered at last. ‘I was ill when Julia was born. My mum was the only one who could help. There was this “at last you’ve got it right” vibe.’
‘Where is your mother now?’ Ezz asked, already knowing what she’d hear.
‘She passed away,’ Kay whispered.
Outside, the wind flung fresh hail at the windows. Thunder rolled. Lightning flashed. Ezz usually loved storms, but this one seemed to be clamped around her head. ‘You couldn’t defy her to check I was OK?’ She looked between the two of them and pictured instead of their shocked and miserable countenances the warm, laughing faces of her parents Maxie and Vince Wynter. She fought for composure. ‘Your mum was right,’ she said to Kay. Words began tumbling from her. ‘I was never called a bastard. I was called “sweetheart” and “darling”, and I was loved every day until Mum and Dad died. They were wonderful people, who made music that made people dance.’
She lifted her voice over the rattling of hail. ‘All my memories are with Maxie and Vince and the wonderful sisters they gave me. You say you had no choice? No voice? Well, neither did I – just like you didn’t give me a choice about you disrupting my life today. I’ve lived without you, and you’ve lived without me, yet suddenly, decades after you married and began part two of your family, you want to crash in here to see me?’
Kay began to sob. Rick sat in stunned silence, gazing at Ezz. Maybe it was seeing those blue eyes, so similar to her own, that made her pause. With an effort, she softened her voice. ‘I didn’t know my birth name – Lindy Loveless.’ She didn’t point out the irony of the surname. ‘So how did you know my adoptive name? The TV show I watched about adoptions kept saying how hard it is for birth parents from my birth era to get that information. Did an agency get it? I thought they had to contact me first, and not just go blabbing my details to you.’
Rick rubbed his face. His voice was hoarse, as he was trying not to join Kay in tears. ‘Like Kay said, she had a social worker when she was pregnant and after. She accidentally left a piece of paper behind at Kay’s house once. Your adoptive name was on it. And like Kay said, recently we googled you.’
Ezz felt as if her forehead would split because her heart, unable to cope with the mass of emotions, was directing the overflow to her brain. ‘You’ve known my name since then ?’ She jumped up. ‘I don’t even know why you’re here. I’m obviously still a dirty secret, a source of shame, or you wouldn’t have waited until my grandmother died to find me.’ Shaking, she drained the last of her water, having to fight to keep it down.
Kay’s tears eased from her eyes. ‘It’s not really that,’ she protested.
In the face of Kay’s distress, Ezz summoned her few remaining manners. ‘I’m sorry to be angry. It was human error that created me, human error that allowed you to know my adoptive name, human frailty that kept you away. But we’re strangers. You have your family and I have mine – the family that chose me. Lindy Loveless, she’s not me. I’m Ezzie Wynter. Do you …’ She drew in a long, strangled breath that hurt her throat. ‘Do you think you could leave?’
After a long silence, during which Ezz stared blindly from the window, they rose and left. She listened to their dragging footsteps.
It wasn’t until Ezz heard the front door close and turned back that she saw a white business card on her desk. In a no-nonsense blue font, it read: Rick Colville, general builder. The best around. Then there was a phone number, email, and a street address in Coventry, England. Scrawled hastily in a white space were the words: We were kids.
Ezzy began to cry in enormous coughing sobs.
After a few minutes Thea flew in through the door and flung her arms around her. ‘What?’ she demanded. ‘What is it? Oh, Ezz, what is it?’
Ezz lost all control, clinging to her sister as she sobbed and gasped out the story of the birth parents who’d turned up out of the blue. Thea rocked and comforted and didn’t argue with what Ezz had done in sending those out-of-the-blue parents away.
That was what sisters did. They gave you unconditional love.