Mindsight

To my right was the ruin of William the Conqueror’s castle. Ahead, beyond the grassy cliff-edge, the sea was dotted, even at this hour, with small, dark boats. Coloured lights twinkled over the little funfair and amusement arcades, and a miniature train slid silently along beside the beach. To the left was the other hill, the East Hill, where the wooden carriage of a funicular lift hauled itself to the top. And, huddled between the two hills, the clustered houses, cafés and pubs of the Old Town bustled with activity.

Even up here the grass was heaving with life. A dog bouncing after a stick, a group of teenagers grabbing and squealing at each other, families with children, and a few elderly couples, arms linked as they strolled along. As I watched, a woman left the café that stood near the cliff-edge and began to lock the door, looking back to the road behind her to wave a beefy arm at a passing car.

I was close to them all, but felt as distant as if I was behind glass. Were they all as carefree as they looked? The two girls, one skinny, one plump, their pretty faces contorted as they zigzagged across the grass, taunting a couple of boys; the young couple, her arm round his waist, his hand tucked into the back pocket of her jeans; the little family, Mum with a baby in a buggy, and Dad pushing a little boy over the lumpy grass as he strained pink-faced on a bike with two wobbly trainer wheels.

Did we look like that, not so long ago, Steve and I, with our twins? And were we happy? I had thought so, but now I wasn’t sure. I always told Steve he saved me because I realised I was loveable, despite everything.

I met him shortly after Mum died and I’d cleaned up my act. I was doing a temp job at Dad’s firm, mostly helping Lorna in the office. A few of the guys had slimed round me once they knew who I was, but Steve was different. He was working for Dad, too, as a freelance gardener. I thought he was absolutely gorgeous; tall, blond, and with a kind of gangly grace that turned my insides liquid. I started eating my lunch on a bench outside and one day Steve asked if he could join me. And that was it.

When I became pregnant I thought nothing could make me go back to my old ways: to the drugs or drink. So what happened?

Although I hadn’t been able to stop thinking, the walk and the fresh air had done something positive and I came down almost at a run. I was suddenly very hungry, and giving silent thanks to Alice for stocking the freezer with ready meals. But as I came in sight of the flat I saw a tall man turning away from the front door. I slowed my steps. If it was Nic’s ex I didn’t want to meet him, and even if it was the mysterious upstairs tenant, I wasn’t keen on a conversation right now.

I took out my mobile phone, pretending an interest in it, to avoid looking at him. But he had stopped at the garden gate and was staring along the road at me and after a minute or two I had no option but to raise my eyes.

It was Matt, Emily’s Matt. He looked a little older and rather more solid, but it was unmistakably him.

The shock of seeing him here made me step back and the hedge of the house I was passing pressed into my back. He was coming towards me, his hands outstretched, but all I could do was stare.

‘Clare, I thought I’d missed you.’

His arms were round me, my face pressed into his crisp blue shirt. He was very warm, but smelled only of citrusy aftershave. When he pulled away he held me at arms’ length, nodding and smiling.

‘You look great.’

‘You too.’ It was true. The weight gain suited him and with a tan and designer sunglasses he looked really good. ‘But what are you doing here?’ I cringed at how that sounded, but he laughed, threading his arm through mine and walking us back to the house.

‘Came to see you, of course. And I’ve been hanging about for half an hour, so I hope you’re going to ask me in.’

‘I’m sorry, that sounded awful. I was just so surprised to see you.’

At the front door of the house, he leaned against the wall as I fished out my key. ‘I’ve just come back through the Tunnel – conference in Le Touquet – so I was almost passing,’ he said. ‘Emily phoned to tell me you’d emailed and she’s desperate to know how you are and made me promise to persuade you to come visit us soon.’

It was just as well that, as I let us into the flat, he walked straight into the living room and over to the windows, and he couldn’t see me scrub at my eyes, because if he’d opened his arms to me again, I would probably have sobbed on his chest.

He was looking out of the window, swapping his sunglasses for an ordinary pair as he did so.

‘Hey, nice view. Must make a change from what you’re used to.’

I laughed, ‘You could say that.’

He turned, pulling a face. ‘Sorry, but you know me, not the most tactful of men.’

‘It’s fine, I’d rather keep it out in the open.’ It was true. I certainly didn’t want to talk about prison with strangers, but it was a relief to be with people who knew. And I’d always liked Matt. There was a warmth about him, a sense of reliability that had something to do with his size, but was more about his personality. Now he sprawled on the sofa, seeming to fill the room, and looking more like the Matt I was used to in his dark-rimmed spectacles. I headed for the kitchen. ‘Coffee?’

A chuckle. ‘If you don’t mind I’d rather have tea. If I remember right, your coffee is strong enough to stand a spoon in.’

‘Actually, after the dishwater I’ve been drinking for five years, I’m making it a lot weaker. Still, tea it is.’

When I brought the tea and sat in the armchair opposite, Matt leaned over and touched my knee, with a big friendly hand. ‘It really is good to see you looking so well, Clare, and Emily can’t wait for you to come and stay with us in Cumbria.’

‘Well, I’ve got a job.’ He put down his mug, a broad smile on his face, but I shook my head. ‘Only in a flower shop, working for a friend of Alice, but it’s good to be back in the working world. I’m still part-time, though, so I should have a few days free soon.’

I knew Emily was finally pregnant after years of trying, IVF and so on, and we talked about that for a bit. The baby was due in a few weeks and Emily had stopped work and was staying at their house in the Lake District all the time. Matt still had to be in London and was using their flat there. ‘So poor Em gets lonely. I’m working extra at the moment to have more space when the sprog appears. In fact I’ve got some meetings in town tomorrow.’

‘On a Sunday?’

‘Well since the Yanks took over the firm, it’s breakfast meetings, late night conference calls, you name it. To be honest, I can’t wait to get out, but they’re cutting the chemistry departments in the universities and there’s a glut of people like me looking for a change.’ He ran his hand through his dark blond hair, looking more like his old scruffy self by the minute. ‘Still you don’t want to know about all that. How you are, really? How are things with Tom?’

I took a breath, better to start as I meant to go on. ‘It’s early days, but so far so good. There is one problem, though, Matt. He’s convinced himself I wasn’t to blame for the accident. Wants me to look into the whole thing again.’

He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘Blimey, that’s a bummer. So what have you said?’

‘That I’ll try to find out what I can.’

He drained his mug. ‘Look, I should be going. Only stopped to deliver the message. If I remember, it’s a long and winding road from here to London. Just tell me you’ll definitely visit us soon and my job here is done.’

‘I promise, but why don’t you stay for something to eat?’

He stood up. ‘Better not, I have some work to do before these meetings tomorrow.’

I couldn’t let it end there. ‘I wanted to ask you a couple of things. To help Tom.’

His spectacle case had slid down the side of the sofa and he bent to fumble for it. ‘What’s that?’

‘Well, I’ve always wondered about who could have supplied me with the speed. It must have been someone at the wedding, you see.’ It was difficult to talk to him while he was pulling out the case, then opening it and rubbing at the sunglass lenses, and I was very aware I was holding him up. ‘You and Emily knew everyone there, so I wanted to know if there was anyone you could think of?’

He’d put the sunglasses on again and was looking more like the stylish guy I’d seen outside the house. ‘It’s a long while ago, Clare, and if any of our friends did have a habit we didn’t know about it. And to be frank I wouldn’t want to give you their names if I did. Can you imagine how they’d feel if you turned up asking questions like that? And the chances of them telling you if they did supply you are zilch I’d say. Besides it was more likely someone from the catering company.’ He leaned close and kissed me, his cheek just a little stubbly. ‘Let it drop, sweetheart. Tom’ll forget about it once he gets used to you being around and starts enjoying having a mum again.’

After I’d seen him out I closed my front door and leaned my head against it. I’d made a complete hash of that and I knew I should have waited until I’d thought out what to say more carefully. I microwaved a pasta meal and ate it at the kitchen table, wondering how I’d got myself into this when I should be focusing on making a new life for Tom and me.

The day, and the sleepless night before it, had drained me completely and I wasn’t even tempted to turn on the TV. Instead, I threw off my clothes, pulled the curtains to shut out the glow of fading sunlight and climbed into bed.

The pillow was smooth and cool but I was wide awake again, my mind racing. I turned on the bedside light and picked up the photo frame. Steve and my boys smiled at me. The eight-year-old Tommy in the picture was still more real to me than the awkward teenager I was trying to get to know. And Toby – the gap where he’d just lost a tooth making his grin cheekier than ever. My dear little boy would never be a teenager, never grow up, because of me and I could never look at his face without that agonised throb. ‘I’m sorry, Toby,’ I whispered.

My husband was standing behind the boys, smiling his wide, white smile. One hand was on Toby’s shoulder, the other pushing strands of fair hair away from his own face. Little Tommy leaned back against him. ‘Oh, Steve…’

I smoothed their dear faces with a fingertip, then pressed the photo to my chest. But it was only plastic and glass and it gave no comfort.

Chapter Seven

It must have been close to midnight when the phone rang. Still half asleep I grabbed it. ‘Alice?’ There was some noise in the background, but no one spoke and then the line went dead. I lay down, but couldn’t rest. What if Alice was calling from a hospital to tell me Tom was ill or hurt? I groped for my mobile and texted her.

Did you ring me? Is everything OK?

Her reply came through almost at once.

Didn’t ring, all’s well here. I’m in bed but call if you need to talk XXX.

I sent back:

Thanks I’m fine – goodnight XXX

I slept well for once and woke on Sunday knowing I’d dreamed of my family. They had been happy dreams: the kind of dreams I’d had in the early days after the accident – the cruellest ones of all. In the first waking moments you lie warm and comfortable, knowing everything is all right, everyone is alive and well. It takes a few minutes to remember that the happy dreams are the fantasy and it’s the nightmare that’s real.

The weather had taken a turn for the worse and as I lay listening to the rain I felt the loneliness twist inside me, worse even than it had been in the first days in prison when I was in too much shock to feel anything.

My mood today reminded me more of when I was a teenager. By the time I was fourteen I was barely speaking to Mum or Dad and no one at school seemed to like me. Emily was miles away and Alice was too young to confide in. I knew I was adopted, my Romanian birth mother hadn’t wanted me, and I was pretty sure my adoptive parents wished they had never taken me on either. I spent whole days lying in bed paralysed with misery. When I did get up I would wander the streets alone, walking myself into exhaustion.

It was on one of these tramps when I took shelter from a chill drizzle in a bus shelter. Although it was close to Beldon House, I couldn’t face going home to Mum’s silences and pursed lips. Out in the country like this, with no bus due for an hour or more, the last thing I expected was for anyone to join me, but the girl who did looked around my age and was so chatty it took only minutes to feel we were friends.

She offered me a drink. It was vodka, and I’d never had more than a sip or two of wine before, but although it tasted like sour fire and made me gasp and cough, I kept pace with her as we passed the bottle back and forth. Her name was Lizzie, and she had dyed yellow hair and eyelashes heavy with black mascara. Her nails were bitten to the quick, there were scars on her thin pale arms, and I thought she was the most glamorous creature I’d ever seen. She told me she had run away from three foster homes and now she was looking out for herself. She’d been staying with some friends in the village, but was having to move on. ‘They got fed up with me. People usually do,’ she said, with a throaty laugh. We swapped mobile numbers and when she got on the bus I longed to go with her.

I didn’t dare that time, but after the next row at home I met up with Lizzie in Tonbridge and stayed the night at the squat where she was living. I went home, very defiant, late next evening, opening the front door to be met by Dad in the hall. He looked so angry I was terrified but hid it with a toss of the head as I pushed past him, heading for the stairs.

He grabbed my arm, ‘Oh no you don’t, young lady. I want an explanation.’

He was a big man with a loud voice, but he had never raised his hand to me or to Alice. I could see, though, that he was tempted to hit me when I curled my lips and met his eyes.

‘What?’

He took an enormous breath. ‘I suppose you realise we had to call the police? You’ve made your mother ill and Alice hasn’t stopped crying. We thought you’d had an accident or been abducted.’

I pulled my arm away. ‘Well I’m back now, so you can all relax.’ Then I headed upstairs with a look I hoped was loaded with contempt.

I expected him to follow me, but he didn’t and he was at work when I got up next day. Mum was ill in bed and Alice was at school. No one seemed to care what I did. So I packed a rucksack and walked out. The first of many times.

It didn’t take long to lose touch with Lizzie, but by then I’d met Gaz. I kidded myself it was love and we headed for London. Gaz disappeared after a couple of weeks and I went home for a bit, but the pattern was set. Gradually, I was staying away for longer and longer, moving from squat to squat, sometimes sleeping in parks or even shop doorways. It’s amazing where you can sleep if you’re drunk or wasted enough.

I got picked up by the police and taken home a few times, but left again after a couple of days. My parents must have squared it somehow with school. Maybe they just carried on paying the fees and everyone agreed it was easier that way. I never went back to school.

The only thing I ever felt guilty about in those days was leaving Alice, and even now I felt a twinge when I recalled looking up one day, as I was shambling up the driveway, to see her little face at her bedroom window. Her mouth was moving and she was trying to push up the wooden sash so that I could hear her. But she couldn’t manage it and that image of her tearful face as she tried to call me back stayed with me until the downers I’d pinched from Mum’s room began to take the edge off everything.

The phone rang: Alice’s number. I took a swallow from the water beside my bed, but my voice must still have sounded croaky because Tom said, ‘You all right, Mum?’

‘I’m fine. I thought you were out all day today.’

‘I will be in an hour. Just wanted to speak to you before I went.’

I held the phone to my lips for a moment unable to speak. ‘Well, it’s lovely to hear your voice.’

‘I’m sorry about yesterday, Mum. Alice said you might have been upset. I thought I told her about the table tennis and everything, but I must have forgot.’

‘Don’t worry. I can’t expect you to rearrange your life to suit me. Now off you go and win that tournament and I’ll be over to see you tomorrow or Tuesday – OK?’

Alice came on then to ask about last night’s call. ‘It was nothing,’ I said. ‘Just a cold call, but it was so late I got worried.’

‘Do you want to come over for lunch?’

‘If you don’t mind, I won’t. I’m really tired. It was a bit of a day yesterday.’

She had to go then because Tom was there, asking if she knew where he’d put his table tennis bat and did he have any clean shorts. It was just as well because I couldn’t face talking about Matt’s visit until I’d thought about it myself.

I switched on the laptop, almost expecting an email from Emily, but my inbox stayed empty. I had her number in the notebook Alice had left for me, so I picked up the phone to call her, but somehow I couldn’t do it and phoned Lorna instead. There was no reply, but I left a message to tell her I wasn’t working on Friday and could come to her then.

After that I stood eating some toast and staring from the window at the rain, the grey clouds, and the empty sea. I knew I should clean the place and do some washing for next week, but instead I watched TV and tried to read.

Finally, I forced myself to put a few things in the washing machine and push the Hoover round the flat. At least it seemed to give me an appetite, but looking in the freezer I knew I couldn’t face more microwaved food. It was five o’clock and too late, on a Sunday, to go to a supermarket.

There was a convenience store not far away, but when I got outside the sun had come out and I found myself heading past the shop, following the smell of fish and chips to the corner of the High Street. When I saw the queue I stopped, ready to turn back to the flat and another frozen ready meal, but I took a breath and forced myself to stand behind the man on the end.

As the queue moved forward, and nobody paid me any attention, I felt myself begin to relax. And, when I asked for a pickled onion from the huge jar on the counter, I was even able to laugh with a woman behind me when she said, rather me than her, she couldn’t stand the things.

As I was pushing my way out I felt a tug on my arm. ‘Hi, babe. How’s it going?’

‘Oh hello, Nicola. Fine, yes, I’m fine.’

The slim, dark-haired man was obviously with her and I took a step back, although he didn’t look like the aggressive character I’d imagined buzzing on my door bell the other night.

Nicola’s hand remained on my arm and at the same time I felt something clutch my knee. The little girl, Molly, was standing, clinging to her mother’s leg and using mine for extra support. Her sticky smile said she wasn’t going to let go without a struggle.

‘She likes you, Clare. You’ll not get away now.’ Nicola turned to the man. ‘Kieran, this is Clare who I was telling you about.’

He smiled and held out his hand. ‘Hello, Clare, nice to meet you. I’m your upstairs neighbour.’ So it wasn’t the ex. Kieran’s hand was warm and dry and I tried to return his smile.

Molly was moving restlessly, giving high-pitched little screams, each one greeted by heavy sighs from the man serving the chips.

‘Clare, you wouldn’t be a darling and take her outside for a minute would you?’ Without waiting for my answer, Nicola peeled the little hand from her own leg and turned the child towards me. ‘Go on, darlin’, go with Clare.’

By now Molly had her hands raised to me, and I had no option but to push my packet of food under my arm and haul her up. She was warm and smelled of sweets, and when she put her arms around my neck and rested her little head on my shoulder something inside me began to ache.

They’d parked the pushchair outside, and Molly clambered from my arms and into it, grabbing a bottle from the seat as she did so and sucking away, her eyes closed with satisfaction. I stood watching her.

Kieran took charge of the pushchair and led the way, stowing their food in a bag hanging from the back and Nicola threaded her arm through mine. ‘This is nice. We can all eat at mine. Kieran’s bought us a bottle, but I’ve got another couple in the fridge.’

‘I’m sorry. That would be lovely, but I can’t, I’ve got an urgent phone call to make.’ It was a lame excuse, but I couldn’t face the thought of socialising, especially with someone as pushy as Nicola. And had I imagined it, or had Kieran’s eyes lingered on me just a fraction too long? I knew it was unlikely anyone would recognise me from newspaper pictures of five years ago, but I made sure to lower my head and let my hair fall across my face as we said goodbye.

Inside, the phone was flashing with a message:

Hi, Clare, it’s me, Emily. I was hoping I’d catch you. Matt says you look great, but he couldn’t get a definite date for a visit out of you. Please, please try to come soon. Once the baby arrives I expect it will be hell here for a bit, so get up here before and we can have time to chat without interruptions. Sorry… rambling… ring me.

It was so lovely to hear her voice that I played the message three times, picking at the fish and chips straight from the bag. When the phone rang I grabbed it, but there was only silence – another cold call. This time I was glad of the interruption because it stopped me dithering. I called Emily’s number. She burst straight into talk. ‘Oh, Clare, it’s wonderful to hear your voice again.’

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