Chapter 24
ELIZA
Ariana and Rae walked Eliza back to Carrie’s house.
The sky was clear apart from the occasional plane escaping from Manchester airport before the night-time curfew.
Eliza had been deep in thought for the rest of the evening in the pub, after telling the others about Howard.
When she’d come back from the toilets, at the end, she’d felt sure they’d been talking about her – in a good way.
Both linked arms with her on the way back.
Despite the evening chill, a toasty sensation enveloped Eliza whilst she walked home.
They were good-hearted girls and reminded her of Mel, growing up.
When very young, her daughter had the kindest nature.
After playing out with friends, she would often return home with a small posy of dandelions and daisies for her mum.
She’d ask Eliza to play with her after school too and asked why her mum didn’t have many friends, saying it didn’t matter, she’d always have Mel.
They’d get out the Barbie and Ken dolls a neighbour had given Mel when her own daughter had grown out of them.
From a very young age Mel saw men and women as equal, despite her overbearing father.
Perhaps the games were a release from his misogynistic ways.
Either doll would be a doctor or a nurse, Barbie was a bricklayer once, Ken a nail technician, and they’d wear each other’s uniforms. Then as she hit the early teen years, Mel was more like Rae – outspoken, unpredictable at times, and increasingly aware that Howard wasn’t like other husbands and dads.
Mel began to argue with him as she’d stick up for Eliza.
He moaned once about the cost of Eliza’s appointments at the hairdresser, so Mel asked him how much he spent, per week, in the pub.
Eliza had frozen, waiting for a violent outburst, but for some reason he never once raised a hand to his daughter.
Perhaps he sensed what Eliza had always known in her heart – that him ever hurting Mel was the one thing that would extinguish his wife’s fear of him for good.
As the teenage years progressed, Mel had become more sensible and measured, like Ariana, yet combined with a growing lack of understanding as to why Eliza wouldn’t leave her marriage.
She hadn’t respected her mum over this. How could she?
It all came to a head one weekend when Howard slammed the door as he left for the pub, angry that Eliza had forgotten to buy his favourite sausages for his weekend cooked breakfast.
* * *
‘Why don’t you leave him, Mum?’ asked sixteen-year-old Mel.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Eliza carried on chopping carrots.
Mel took her mum’s arm and they sat down at the kitchen table. ‘You know that I know,’ she continued in a quiet voice.
Eliza wrung her hands and stared at the empty vase on the side unit that had never been filled, apart from with the wild flowers a young Mel used to bring her, years before.
‘I love him,’ she muttered. ‘Your father’s good to us.’
Mel scoffed.
‘He provides a roof, food on the table and a lot more. What would I do if I left? Where would I go?’
‘You’d manage. We’d manage,’ she said in a measured voice.
‘Now come on, what’s with all this talk? We’re doing fine,’ Eliza said brightly and got up, going back to the carrots. ‘No family is perfect. We live with the hand we’re dealt.’
‘Mum! He treats you like shit! I’ve got eyes!’
‘Language, Mel!’ Her cheeks flushed.
‘I’ve visited my friends’ houses, watched their parents. Love’s not supposed to be like this.’ She took a few deep breaths. ‘I know it’s a scary prospect, but let’s make a plan. There are women’s refuge details online, let’s ring one, get some advice, and—’
Eliza turned around. ‘Mel. No. And it’s not your job to worry about me. I’ve got my reasons for staying. I don’t expect you to understand, nor fret either. It’s my choice. Please. Let’s leave it at that. Women’s refuges?’ She forced a laugh. ‘Your father isn’t that bad. He… he works very hard and…’
Mel left the room and never mentioned it again.
* * *
On her doorstep, Eliza said goodbye to… well, Carrie’s friends, but she felt they were hers now too, as each gave her a hug and suggested a trip to the cinema the following week.
She beamed at them. ‘That would be lovely but… I’m not… not a charity case. I don’t want you girls to feel obliged.’
Ariana shook her bouquet. ‘I’m into anyone who gives me free flowers. My girlfriend, Izzy, loves nature and is always keen to go out hiking. She’ll be thrilled with this colourful bunch in our lounge.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s all about charity for me,’ said Rae airily, ‘I’m that kinda generous person, and no one needs help more than a K-pop fanatic.’
The grin that last comment inspired soon slid from Eliza’s face as she closed the front door behind herself and headed into the lounge. Moonlight through the window helped her navigate the furniture before she sat on the threadbare sofa, in the dark.
She’d done her best not to think of Mel, not since she died, and of the unsaid loving words, the hugs that never happened.
She still didn’t know exactly when the funeral had taken place.
Eliza had only found out about her death when she’d crossed paths with an old school friend of Mel’s weeks later.
The poor woman was mortified that Eliza hadn’t known.
Eliza blocked away the memory. It was too painful to face how she’d let down her daughter so completely, by not standing up to Howard over throwing Mel out because of the pregnancy.
Who could blame Mel for not forgiving Eliza and never wanting contact?
Eliza and Mel had only met up once since her dad had died, since Eliza had left him – a few months afterwards.
Eliza was grateful that her daughter had kept the same mobile phone number and even though Mel hadn’t replied about her father’s funeral, Eliza didn’t give up and messaged several times again, saying she’d wanted to pass on a cheque, a cut of the proceeds of the house sale.
Eliza told her if nothing else, to do it for her baby.
So they’d met in Stockport, in a café where people sat and chatted about the weather, work, their social life, the day-to-day stuff that Eliza and Mel didn’t share any more…
* * *
Eliza got to her feet as Mel came in and she took a sharp intake of breath. Her blooming teen, full of bounce and jokes, had turned into a thin woman, with black circles under her eyes. She sat straight down without saying anything.
‘Mel. It’s so good to see you. How are you doing?’
‘Hello, Queenie.’
She didn’t call her Mum. Ouch. Eliza didn’t bother correcting her by saying her name wasn’t Queenie any more.
‘I’ve come here for my daughter’s sake, not for you,’ Mel continued. ‘I’d do anything to help my child, certainly if she unexpectedly got pregnant – but then you wouldn’t understand that.’
‘How old is she now?’ asked Eliza, her stomach in knots.
‘One next week.’
‘I’d love to buy her a present.’
Mel remained tight-lipped.
‘Let me order you a latte,’ said Eliza nervously, getting up. ‘How about a slice of cake?’
‘I take my coffee black these days. And I pay my own way. Just a drink please,’ she said stiffly.
Eliza took the fiver Mel held out and headed for the queue at the counter. She came back to the table ten minutes later. Mel was on her phone. She rang off and gulped back a mouthful of coffee, wincing as the hot drink went down. She didn’t acknowledge the slice of chocolate sponge.
‘Can’t stay long. A friend in the flat next to mine is looking after Carrie. She’s teething badly and won’t settle.’
‘I’d love to see a photo.’
Mel paused and then pulled a printed snap out of her purse and handed it over.
Oh. A lump formed in Eliza’s throat as she gazed at the short, shiny blonde hair and giggly smile. Carrie was the spit of Mel at that age.
‘She’s beautiful, darling,’ said Eliza in a choked voice.
Mel took back the photo. ‘You don’t get to call me that,’ she said in a tight voice. ‘You let Dad throw me out. Didn’t come after me. Left me to find work. A place to live. I’d barely become an adult.’
‘I rang around some of your friends and—’
‘Then gave up.’
‘What about Kev? I assumed…’
‘You assumed wrongly,’ she snapped. ‘Nice guy. Sweet and gentle – and under the influence of his parents. I never knew to what degree until he started believing them when they said a baby would ruin his life, that he had a great career ahead of him as a lawyer, like the two of them, but only if there were no distractions. His mum got a new job in London. They moved just before Christmas. I haven’t heard from him since. ’
No. No, this couldn’t have happened, Mel left entirely on her own? Eliza almost gagged.
‘What about child support?’
‘You think I’d accept that from him?’ she spat. ‘My daughter is more than a bill to be paid. And I’m never going to be beholden to a man for money.’ She gave Eliza a pointed look.
‘I did what I had to,’ said Eliza quietly, ‘what I thought was best at the time.’
‘Yeah, and then you only left him because he injured Socks! That was the final straw for you. Chelle next door mentioned it when we bumped into each other once in Manchester. A cat being hurt was more devastating to you than him throwing away your daughter, and your future grandchild!’
‘It wasn’t like that, Mel, please believe me. That injury to Socks represented so much more.’
Mel shook her head. ‘Yeah, right – I bet you played the dutiful wife at his funeral?’
Eliza bit her lip. ‘So where do you live now?’ she asked, screwed up inside.
‘Reddish. It’s a functional place and the right price. I’m saving hard. Hope to be able to afford to rent a house, with a garden, when Carrie’s a bit bigger.’
Eliza’s coffee had gone cold. She passed Mel the cheque. ‘Please, take this. It will help. You could go to uni as you’d always planned to. Or get that bigger house now.’
Mel opened it up. Raised an eyebrow.
‘Perhaps we could meet again? I’d love to meet Carrie. I could even babysit if—’
‘Whoa! So this money entitles you to that? You see me accepting this cheque as an invitation back into my life?’
‘No!’ said Eliza, not caring that other customers were looking. ‘I simply—’
Mel’s chair scraped loudly as she stood up and tossed the cheque down. ‘Forget it. I don’t need anyone’s help. Don’t contact me again. Just because you let Dad buy your compliance doesn’t mean you can buy mine.’
Eliza sat, frozen, then stood up and hurriedly followed Mel out of the café but she was already getting into a car, farther down the road. The engine started up and it sped off.
* * *
Boo jumped up onto the sofa, next to Eliza, the dark of night suiting his colouring.
‘I never got to say goodbye, Boo,’ she said shakily.
The cat hesitated and then settled down, resting his chin on her lap.
Eliza stroked his head and then picked up the avocado plushie and hugged it tightly. At least she’d got closer to Carrie now, even if her granddaughter had left the country and gone to Greece; even if it had meant Eliza keeping her true identity a secret.
Her granddaughter.
How Eliza had longed to mention her to people over the years, the straw blonde hair, the goofy baby smile, but that would have simply led to questions that only had difficult answers.
Dandelions had always been Mel’s favourite flower as a child.
Whilst most people considered them weeds, Mel saw them for what they were, from an early age – incredible symbols of transformation, of new beginnings; of making wishes.
She’d blow gently against the plant’s fluffy seed heads, her eyes closed until her wish was made.
Eliza hugged the plushie tighter. Her chest pinched. How hard life must have been for Mel, if her daughter had created a fake profile in order to pretend she lived a fantastical life full of luxuries.
Eliza needed to get on with reaching her goal. Somehow – she didn’t know in what way yet – Eliza would help her granddaughter find a life from which she didn’t want to escape; a life worthy of a wish on a fluffy seed head.