Chapter 30 #2
He shifted a little on the bench so he was facing her. ‘Alice, here’s the thing about Teddy. Why I want to go and see her. She’s –’
He could feel her tensing up, opening her mouth to speak. ‘I can’t help you –’ she began, as he said:
‘She’s my mother.’
‘What?’
‘She’s my mother.’
Alice leaned back as if he’d hit her. After a moment she said, ‘But you just said your mother was dead.’
‘She was my adoptive mother. Teddy and my dad had an affair. They met in the war.’ Her eyes were huge, the horror in them palpable, but he ploughed on.
‘Alice, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m going to go to see her.
I made a promise that I would. My father and Irene – that’s his wife – she adopted me, and they were going to bring me up but she died in a plane crash.
I know Teddy came back here after the war.
I know she promised to stay out of their way. But I thought it was enough time –’
Tom hesitated. He’d thought about this a lot since he’d been here.
He knew enough about his own family to know that announcing he was Teddy’s illegitimate son might cause problems for Teddy.
Had Teddy told anyone? Where exactly was she and what life was she leading?
If he turned up on the doorstep and she was married with kids, it would be dreadful. He didn’t want to get her into trouble.
‘I have to give her something,’ he said eventually. ‘A promise I made. And I know she’s not back from Miami. But I have to see her, and I’d love it if you could come with me.’
There was silence, broken by the sounds of children’s screams, and music floating out of a window on the street opposite.
‘Tom –’ Alice squinted, looking up at the blue sky. ‘Tom – Teddy’s different,’ she said.
‘How so?’ Tom’s heart was thudding in his chest.
‘I can’t really describe it. She’s not like you or me.’
‘Is she married?’
‘No, nothing like that.’ She sighed. ‘She can’t leave the house, okay? It wouldn’t be safe.’
‘It wouldn’t be safe ? Why not?’
Alice crossed and uncrossed her legs, then she brought up her knees under her chin, hugging herself. He turned on the bench and saw her face. She was really pale.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I explained properly before. I left for New York in November, after we spoke. My mom married Teddy’s brother, around Christmas. My dad – Bob, Bob Jansen – he killed himself three years ago.’
‘Oh, Alice.’ He put out his hand, but she batted it away, scratched her neck, then chewed on a nail.
‘It’s – I don’t want to talk about it right now. But my dad, okay, he was friends with Teddy. He used to look after the family estate. We lived there.’
‘Right,’ said Tom. Her eyes darted nervously about. Tom was suddenly reminded of the deer hunts that set off from Gatehouse into the hills. He had the strangest feeling he was hunting a deer, that she was the prey, a creature that might bolt at any time, and he didn’t like it. ‘Why did you leave?’
‘Because Wilder Kynaston – that’s Teddy’s brother. He tried –’ She cleared her throat. ‘He’s a writer. He’s stolen my ideas, my words, for a book he’s writing. He tried to rape me.’
Tom blinked, his mind racing to absorb the information she was giving him. He got snagged on the name. ‘Wilder Kynaston. I’ve heard of him. He – what? Did he hurt you?’
‘I got away. But he thinks I owe him a favour,’ she said, her voice dripping with contempt.
‘He’s got my mom acting like a servant. She’s married him.
’ She swallowed. ‘She married him so she could have a nice house and a nice life and so he has someone to do everything for him. He ruined Teddy’s life; she’s never leaving Valhalla now, and he took my mom too.
’ A couple of kids ran past, screaming, one of them holding a paper aeroplane.
She smiled at them. ‘I can’t go back there.
Ever. In case – he –’ She shook her head, and her breathing became ragged, as if she were running, and she closed her eyes.
‘In case they do it to me. What they did to Teddy.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, and he rubbed her back gently, as she leaned forwards, hugging herself, like she couldn’t stay upright any more. She was crying. ‘Teddy …’ she said once, softly. He kept on rubbing her back, saying, ‘It’s fine’ and ‘Don’t worry.’
Eventually she said, ‘It must be very strange for you.’ She blew her nose on a handkerchief. ‘I wish I could take you there. But I can’t go back.’ She was biting her lip and chewing her nail alternately, staring fixedly at nothing in the middle distance.
‘I just want to see her,’ he said after a while. ‘I’ll work out a way.’
‘No. I want to help you,’ Alice replied. He looked round, and saw she was shaking. She gritted her teeth. ‘I’ll call her. I’ll call Teddy tonight. I’ll work something out. Okay? Okay?’
‘Are you sure?’ It felt wrong to Tom, like he was forcing her into something.
‘I’ll call her tonight.’ She breathed in, like she was relieved something had been decided. ‘Tom, that must have been awful. I am sorry. Did you ever suspect they might have been lying to you? About who your parents were?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘But … yes, really. I always had the strangest feeling, and I can’t put my finger on it. That I was in the wrong life. Does that make sense?’
‘It didn’t used to, when I was little,’ she said. ‘It does now.’
‘Have you ever been in love?’ she asked him a little later. He nodded.
‘With the girl with short black hair?’
‘How the hell do you know that?’
‘Because I’ve walked on the street with you three times and every time you pass a girl with short black hair you give a short little sharp sigh. Like someone’s kicked you in the guts,’ she said.
‘Alice. Wow. That’s far-out. How do you do that?’
‘I’m a witch,’ she said and shrugged, giving a small, weak smile.
‘Can I ask you about Merlin?’
She stood up and threw the empty cookie-and-bread bag in the trash can. ‘Sure.’
‘Well? What’s the situation there?’
‘“The situation”,’ she said, in a terrible English accent, ‘is that we’re together.’ She started walking on. ‘Is it okay if we go back? I need to make sure Merlin doesn’t need anything.’
‘Is that – a forever thing?’
Alice stopped in the curving path, as a boy on a bike swept past them. ‘I don’t know. I love him. I’ve always loved him, really. He’s good for me.’ She saw the incredulity on Tom’s face. ‘We knew each other back in Orchard.’
‘He’s from Orchard?’
She nodded. ‘He’s a good person. He cares.
He’s lost people; so have I. I feel safe with him, all the time.
And he’s gentle, and doesn’t shout. I hate people who shout.
When I came here, I ended up at St Mark’s and so did he.
We had a friend who died, and we’ve kind of held on to each other since then. ’
‘I see.’
‘No, you don’t. The only problem is the kind of guy he is means he’s adored by everyone.’ She stared out at the road. ‘And really it’s wild that a guy like him just carries on being adored even when society’s breaking down.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘He was the king of our year, our school. Good family, blond, track team, all the clichés. And he drops out, leaves all that behind, and they still follow him like a cult leader. It’s not what he needs,’ she said earnestly.
‘He’s a good man, but he lets not so good people in, and it’s a little, oh, I don’t know. Tiresome.’
‘He makes you do everything, from where I’m standing,’ Tom said, and she instantly flared up.
‘I’m not paying rent. I said I’d pay my way by cleaning and running errands; I like doing it. He’s kind.’ He wanted to put his arm round her, to tell her she was kind, truly kind for its own sake, not as part of some game.
But she stepped away, and the moment passed.
‘What’s your favourite film?’
‘Oh!’ Her brow furrowed, and she bit her nail. ‘I … suppose it’s … It’s The Sound of Music .’ She cleared her throat, whispering something to herself.
Tom said gently, ‘Really?’
‘No, not really,’ she said very quietly. ‘It was my dad’s favourite. He used to watch it when he was feeling blue. He was blue a lot of the time. I hate it, actually. I fucking hate it.’ She shook her head, and tears dropped on to her dress.
‘Oh, Alice,’ he said, and he did put his arm round her then, and she leaned against him in the street as she sobbed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.’
‘It’s been three years – it’s stupid.’
‘It’s not stupid,’ Tom said, stroking her soft hair, holding her callused, nail-bitten hand and squeezing it. ‘There, there.’ He didn’t know what else to say, other than that; when he’d fallen as a child, his dad used to hold him and pat him and say, ‘There, there.’
Miraculously, it worked, and she stayed leaning against him, her sobs lessening. A car horn sounded close by, and they jumped apart.
‘Every year,’ she said, ‘for my birthday, he’d give me a treasure.
I think I told you this. On the phone?’ He nodded.
‘A little ornament; I used to collect them.’ She sniffed.
‘Dogs, elephants, a brooch of my mom’s, a Christmas ornament.
Just silly little things. Beautiful. And the day he died, he told me …
there were more. And he said I had to ask Teddy, and that it was something to do with – with Sevenstones.
And they’re the clues, and it’s been nearly three years.
And I’ve never found them.’ She was crying again.
‘I keep thinking if I just knew where they were … I could lay him to rest … Then I could probably say goodbye to him.’
He held her hand. ‘Alice, Sevenstones is my family’s house. It’s in England.’
Her eyes flew open. ‘It is?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It must be – do you think they’re there?’
‘But he never went to England. Oh!’ she said. ‘Did Teddy go there?’
‘Yes, all the time, in the war,’ he said. ‘That’s how they met.’ His hands tightened on hers. ‘Alice – she must have the final treasure somewhere. Maybe you can ask her, again.’