Mindsight

Nicola was talking on about Molly, and the nursery, and about her own job at the council offices. ‘Dead boring, but if they make me redundant I won’t be able to stay here for long. What about you? You said you’re at work in the morning.’

There was no way out of it. ‘I’m part time at the florist’s up the road.’

‘That’s nice. And I’ve met your sister, what about other family?’

I needed to shut this down and I was amazed to see I’d finished my wine. I faked a yawn. ‘Sorry, Nicola. I’m really tired so I’d better try to get a few hours’ sleep. Thanks for the drink.’

She followed me to the door. ‘No, thank you, babe. Let’s get together again soon, eh?’ As I reached my door she stayed watching me then leaned out, pointing to a small table by the main door. ‘Hey, I’ve just thought. Are you Clare Glazier?’

I swallowed, oh God she’d guessed, but before I could speak she’d picked up an envelope from the table. ‘Mrs C Glazier,’ she read. ‘Sorry I put it there yesterday. It’s where we leave the mail. Didn’t realise that was your surname.’ My smile must have made my feelings obvious. ‘Good news?’ Nic said.

‘Yes, it’s from an old friend.’ I knew the distinctive hand at once and my heart lifted. Lorna – my godmother. Of course, I knew she’d be in touch.

I thanked Nicola and went back into the flat, ripping the envelope apart before I was even through the door. As always, the paper smelled of Lorna’s perfume, mingled, it seemed to me, with a waft of fresh air from her garden. She was the only one, apart from Alice, I’d let visit me in prison. She was a real old-fashioned letter writer and I’d treasured every one of her notes and cards, as well as the long letters she sent when she knew I was in need of something more.

This was quite short, although set out as perfectly as ever and I smiled, remembering how she always insisted personal letters must be handwritten, never word processed, and there was no excuse for slapdash presentation even in a casual note.

Dearest Clare,

I’m so happy to know you’re back in the land of the living with us and I can’t wait to see you.

It’s going to be difficult for you, I know that, but don’t forget I’m here whenever you want to see me. I’m not too decrepit to travel, so I can come to you, if that’s what you would prefer. Call me to arrange something soon, and remember there are lots of people out here who are on your side.

With fondest love from,

Your fairy godmother, Lorna.

My parents were atheists so I didn’t have a real godmother, but at eight years old, at a C. of E. school with a High Church ethos, I got religion. I never went so far as to demand to be baptised, but when I heard about godparents I nominated Lorna. It was her idea to call herself my fairy godmother.

Lorna worked with Dad. He called her his secretary, but she was much more than that. Mum was often ill, so Lorna organised much of our home life too. Next to my dad, she was the person I loved most in the world, and after the accident I knew, in spite of everything, she would stand by me.

When I ran away from home and was living rough I sometimes went to Lorna. She would let me have a bath while she washed and dried my clothes. Then she’d feed me and sometimes persuade me to stay the night.

As always her words came at just the right time, and she’d added her mobile number too, so I texted her straight away.

So good to hear from you. I’m fine. I’d love to see you soon. Working this morning, but will give you a ring asap. XXXX

I switched on the TV, curled up on the sofa, and dozed till it was time to shower and dress for work.

I was swallowing some toast and coffee when the phone rang. I let the machine answer, expecting it to be Nicola for some reason.

‘Clare, my love, I just got your text…’

I grabbed up the handset. ‘Lorna, oh thank you for calling.’ I explained I was working that morning and couldn’t talk for long and, as usual she read my thoughts. ‘But you’d like to see me. Well how about this afternoon? I’m free as a bird and I’d love a jaunt down to the seaside. I’ll come on the train. Not sure about times, but I’ll try to get there for about 1.30. Meet me at the station and I’ll buy you lunch.’

Somehow, just the thought of seeing Lorna meant that, despite everything, I didn’t find the morning too difficult. Stella and Harriet left me in charge of the shop, as they made up bouquets and Stella drove back and forth with deliveries. The open back door allowed splashes of sunlight to fall on the counter, and the warm breeze carried the scent of flowers and the murmur of their voices into the shop.

There were plenty of customers, but they all seemed so absorbed in their own business that they hardly seemed to notice me. I was very glad about that, and I had no time, either, to worry about making mistakes. The morning passed quickly and Stella seemed happy enough too, laughing that, if I could cope with a summer Saturday morning, then I could cope with anything.

Outside, as the sun shone down on me, I almost felt ordinary again: someone with a job, a home, and a friend to meet. Even the calling seagulls seemed tuneful, and I stood for a moment breathing deeply, my knees a little wobbly with something close to happiness.

Down at the seafront the water shone like crinkled foil. The clear air showed me Bexhill a few miles down the coast and, further away still, the white cliffs of Beachy Head near Eastbourne. I felt I could easily have walked there.

Lorna was standing outside the station. I hadn’t seen her for a few months because she was having trouble with her knee and needed an operation. Knowing I’d soon be out, we’d agreed she wouldn’t keep doing the journey to the prison, and I was shocked to see how much she had aged. She was as neat and elegant as ever, but although her eyebrows were still dark, her hair, twined into a gleaming knot, was streaked with grey. She patted it as she caught me looking. ‘You have to stop dyeing it at some point, you know.’

‘It suits you.’

She smiled; her face a spider’s web of tiny lines. Though she was still slender, I noticed she breathed heavily as we wandered down to the Old Town. It was obviously not easy for her to walk, but she insisted she was fine. At the little tapas bar we chose for lunch she exclaimed, ‘My goodness, Clare, it’s so cheap! I hardly ever eat out in London anymore. All the places I used to love are out of my league now.’

Lorna ordered a bottle of wine and as I sipped I felt a shiver of anxiety. When I was living rough, I’d spent plenty of time out of it on cider or cheap vodka, but once I straightened myself out, got married and had the twins, I found it easy enough to drink sensibly. But I’d been happy then. There had been times in prison when I’d longed to get smashed out of my skull, to forget everything for an hour or so, and the way my life was at the moment I knew I should be careful – I’d drunk too much wine in the last day or so and enjoyed it too much.

Lorna nibbled an olive and looked at me with dark eyes that sparkled as brightly as ever. ‘And how are you, sweetheart? You look thinner, but…’ she held up a blue-veined hand, a large gold bangle encircling the elegant wrist, ‘…it suits you. Just don’t go too far will you?’

‘I won’t.’

She smiled up at the waitress unloading the little dishes of food, then said a warm, ‘Thank you’. Lorna always gave her full attention to anyone she was with, whether it was an important client of the firm or the scruffy little girl I had been. Now she turned the full beam onto me. ‘So what do you think of your handsome son?’ She forked a few slices of tomato and chorizo onto her plate and began peeling a prawn, leaving the words to do their work, but I was wise to her technique and in any case I didn’t want to keep anything from her.

‘Oh he’s wonderful, and you were right all along. I should have let him visit me. I was so stupid.’

She smiled. ‘I’m not going to argue with you there, but you’ve spent enough time letting past mistakes get in your way. I think you owe it to Tom to start afresh.’

‘The problem is he doesn’t want to believe I was to blame for the accident.’

‘Don’t forget, it took you a long time to come to terms with it, and Tom’s still very young. You have to help him.’

‘That’s what Alice says, and I’m beginning to think the only way is to try to find out the whole, ugly truth myself.’

‘Regain your memory, you mean?’ She placed the piece of bread she had been eating, very carefully, on her plate, and looked at me. ‘Is it possible after all this time?’

‘Apparently it can happen. The doctors say this kind of amnesia is sometimes a way for the mind to protect itself from something traumatic – something that’s too painful to face.’

‘Do you have any memories at all?’

‘I have dreams that seem to have something to do with it. A dark road and trees, a flash of light, clouds spinning, flames and… oh I don’t know, it may all be something my mind has put together from what I’ve heard since.’

Lorna drank some wine, looking around the little restaurant at the rough white walls covered in Spanish-style plates and bright paintings. She turned back to me. ‘So what are you going to do?’

‘I think I have to go back to where it happened. To see if anything sparks.’

‘And see Emily and Matt?’

‘I’ll have to. Although, it’s not going to be easy to talk about the accident with them.’

She touched the coil of hair at the nape of her neck. ‘You do realise that delving into the past may only mean more pain and guilt?’

I couldn’t answer.

Lorna wiped her hands and scrunched up her napkin. ‘Come on, I’ll pay for this if you make me coffee at your flat.’

We walked slowly, without talking. Lorna was limping quite badly, although she said she was fine. I could only hear those words of hers: more pain and guilt, over and over in my head. That was what I feared so much; that I would find out something even worse than I knew already. Not just that I had taken the speed deliberately, but that I had wanted to harm my family. If I had, then that would be the end. I could never try to be a real mother to Tommy again if I knew he might not be safe with me. And I couldn’t bear to live if he had to know that.

‘And what about Alice? How’s it going with her?’ Lorna asked.

I pointed to a bench and Lorna headed towards it. ‘Yes, let’s sit for a minute. This wretched knee.’ I was aware of her twisting to face me. ‘So, you and Alice? Are you getting on all right?’

I looked down, fiddling with a loose thread on my skirt. ‘She’s been wonderful, as always.’

‘But…?’ The hint of a smile in her voice.

‘I’m being my usual surly self. I’m so grateful for all she’s done, but I can’t seem to show it when we’re together.’

‘Your son’s been living with her all these years. That’s something to do with it, surely?’

‘I suppose so, but I’ve no right to resent her. I mean she gave up her chance of getting on in her career to make a home for him. And her boyfriends never seem to last long, do they? It can’t be easy to develop a relationship with a child in the picture. Someone else’s child.’

Lorna rubbed her leg and stretched it out in front of her, giving me that sweet smile of hers. ‘I remember how Alice worshipped you when you were kids and she still thinks the world of you, that’s obvious. Yes, she’s given up some things, but I know she loves Tom very much and after what happened – losing her father and Toby, and you too, in a way – I think it’s helped her to have Tom to focus on. He’s been good for her.’

By the time we reached the flat it had clouded over but was still warm, and I opened a window to let in the breeze. We sat at the table, looking over the sea that gleamed silver under the clouds, the odd ripple and tinge of green like the tarnish on an antique mirror. Lorna sighed. ‘This is beautiful, Clare. Alice did well finding this place. I could sit here all day.’

‘Trouble is, I can’t afford it.’

‘What about the money from the sale of your house?’

‘That’s still in the bank. I asked Alice to use it for Tom, but she refused so I’m going to put it towards a place for the two of us, for when he comes back to live with me. But prices have gone up so much and our house was still mortgaged and I need to save every penny I can.’

She shifted and winced, then opened her bag to find some painkillers, swallowing down a couple with a gulp of coffee. ‘But Robert left you both well provided for, surely?’

‘I can’t keep using his money. Alice wants me to, but…’

‘But what?

‘As I’ve tried to tell her, I’m not entitled to it after what I did. And anyway, she was our parents’ only real child and if she’d been born earlier they would probably never have adopted me.’

‘Clare, I’m sure that’s not true. And Alice is right, your father would be furious if he thought you’d rejected your inheritance.’

I stood and turned away, a lump choking at my throat. ‘Lorna, I killed him.’

The table creaked as she leant on it, pushing to her feet. She turned me to towards her, gripping my hands and moving them up and down to emphasise her words. ‘Now look, I knew Robert. You were the apple of his eye and he loved you as much, if not more than, Alice. He’d have hated you to ruin your own life with regrets.’

‘I gave him nothing but trouble, you know that.’

‘He was well aware that you had a hard time from your mother and, although I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, they both bore a lot of responsibility for your problems.’

‘That doesn’t excuse what I did.’

‘He would have forgiven you even that, because he would know, as I do, that you’ve punished yourself enough.’ She sighed and released me, picking up her bag to pull out a tissue. ‘Now, will you call me a taxi, I don’t think this knee will cope with any more walking today.’

At the door I clung to her, breathing in her familiar scent. She pulled back and looked into my eyes. ‘When are you coming to visit me?’

‘Soon.’

‘I shall hold you to that. Then we can really talk.’

Chapter Six

Once I was alone in the quiet flat again, I thought about Lorna. She had been kind, but she couldn’t really help me. It was the same in prison when she used to tell me I should let Tommy visit, and I knew she was right, but I just couldn’t do it.

Oh, I kidded myself I was thinking of what was best for him. Ruby saw her kids, but there were plenty, like me, who persuaded themselves they wanted to spare their children: to save them the heartache of being separated again and again, blah de blah. The truth was, we were ashamed to face those clear eyes, the inevitable questions.

I had to face them now if I ever wanted Tommy back with me; to be a real mother to him. I picked up the phone: desperate just to hear his voice again.

Alice answered and I asked, ‘Is he all right? Do you think it went OK yesterday?’

I heard sounds, as if she was moving to another room or closing a door. ‘He’s been very quiet since, but apart from that… What about you?’

‘I’m all right, better, I think. I’ve emailed Emily, just to say hello.’

‘That’s good, I know she really wants to see you.’ Now her voice came from a distance, calling to Tom. ‘Yes it is. Come and speak to her.’ Then close to the phone again, very gently. ‘Here he is.’

Silence. I tried to speak but my throat had dried so much it came out on a cough. ‘OK, Tom?’

‘Yeah.’

Keep it light. ‘What are you up to?’

‘Nothing much.’

This was awful. ‘I was hoping to get over again tomorrow,’ I said. ‘It’s Sunday, so we’ll have a bit more time together.’

‘Oh, no, I’ve got a table tennis tournament all day tomorrow and I’m going to Mark’s after, for tea, so I won’t be back till late.’

‘Oh… Fine. Of course… ’

‘Sorry.’

‘That’s OK, don’t worry about it.’ The silence stretched between us. ‘Well… good luck… hope it goes well.’

‘Thanks.’ I heard his breath, loud and fast in my ear, but he said nothing more and I couldn’t manage anything either. I asked to talk to Alice again.

‘I’ll get her. Bye.’ The phone clunked down, as if he’d dropped it, and I heard his footsteps, a mumble of voices, then the sharp crack of his laugh followed by a chuckle from Alice.

‘I am sorry, Clare. I didn’t know about the table tennis, or the tea for that matter,’ she said when she came on. ‘I try to keep track of dates, but he’s getting worse and worse at letting me know.’

‘It’s fine. I can’t expect him to put everything on hold for me.’

‘Why don’t you come over anyway and have lunch with me? Or I could check what he’s got on Monday and Tuesday and we can arrange something then.’

I promised to ring her the next day and said some kind of goodbye. Then I sat holding the silent phone, rocking back and forth as I bit the inside of my mouth, hoping the physical pain might somehow help. I had no idea what I’d expected, but at least I’d hoped to see him soon. Hoped he would want to see me.

What bothered me was the way he seemed so remote. And the way he’d laughed with Alice. So different from our few stumbling words.

Of course, it was bound to be awkward at first, and I should have planned what to say more carefully – I promised myself I would do that next time. And I couldn’t put the blame on Alice or anyone else. It was my own fault, all of it. How stupid I’d been to ban him from visiting me.

Some of the women in prison were honest and admitted they’d never wanted kids in the first place and the one good thing about doing time was that it freed them from those clinging bundles of dependency. Most were like me, lying to themselves. I told myself it was better if he got on with his own life and forgot about me. But the truth was that seeing my child would have been unbearable because it would have reminded me of all the ways I’d hurt him.

I decided to write to Ruby. She’d told me not to, told me to put prison and everything to do with it behind me, but I knew she would be happy to hear from me. And she was the only person I could tell everything.

But when I’d finished pouring it all out onto the page, I realised I couldn’t send a letter like this. The screws would read it before Ruby and I imagined that big bitch Maureen having a good laugh at my pathetic ramblings. I tore the paper into tiny pieces and scattered them on the table, pressing my fists against my temples as I muttered curses to myself, to the bastard screws, and even to the crumpled sea for lying there so grey and sluggish.

Unbelievable as it seemed, I wanted nothing more at that moment than to be back in prison, with Mike to tell me to put the past behind me, and Ruby to cheer me on when I began to hope I might have some kind of future outside.

It had been terrible in the early days. I was sure I was innocent and could only grieve for the family I had lost and obsess over the agony of separation from Tommy. The one thing that kept me going then was believing my appeal must succeed and I would soon be back with him. But even before the appeal failed I realised I had to be guilty, and for a long time after that I could hardly imagine how to carry on living. Didn’t want to go on.

I was never sure when things changed, but one day I found myself talking to Ruby, and later to Alice and Lorna, about seeing Tommy again and trying to be a mother to him once more. I had been so determined to make it work that I remembered a few days when I had felt so hopeful it was almost like happiness. If I could hear Ruby’s voice again, maybe I could recapture that sense of hope.

In the end, I wrote her a short note, saying I just wanted to make sure she still had my address and phone number. I would buy a phone card and slip that into the envelope hoping she would understand it as a plea to call me.

But almost as if I’d actually spoken to her, I could hear what she would say. It was no good dwelling on how badly I’d dealt with things in the past. I had to give Tom what he needed now and that meant taking his questions seriously, and trying to find some answers, no matter how difficult it was for me. It would mean probing into things people would rather forget. And, above all, trying to force my own stubborn brain to reveal what it was hiding. It would hurt, I knew that, it might even turn Tom against me, but it was the very least I owed him.

I would have to start with Emily and Matt. And the place where it happened. I hadn’t seen Matt since that night. But Emily was there through most of the trial, spoke up as a witness for my defence, although she didn’t know much, and then sat and watched, smiling and nodding encouragement at me. Later, she came to see me regularly in prison until I refused her visits.

‘I don’t know how you bear it,’ was what she’d said, oh so kindly, the last time she came. And I looked up to see myself, tiny and far away, reflected in her eyes – a specimen behind glass. It was the word bear that did it, and I knew she didn’t mean, how did I endure the loss, or stand the grief, but how did I bear the burden of my guilt. That was when I told her I didn’t want to see her again; that was in the days before I knew I was guilty.

After the way I’d treated her, I could hardly blame her if she didn’t want to see me. And even if she did, how would she and Matt feel when I started asking questions about that night? I thought how dreadful every wedding anniversary must be for her and how the strands of my guilt entangled all the people I loved.

God knows how I could raise it with either of them, but they were the only ones who knew everyone at the wedding and I needed to ask if they had any idea of who might have given me the pills. If I could find that out, maybe I could also discover why I’d wanted them.

The sessions with Mike in prison had shown me how easily it could happen. There were others, like me, who claimed to have been clean for months, or years, but always there was a trigger to send them back to the vodka, the speed or the smack. Ruby’s man came home from wherever he’d been, beat her and gave her heroin to cheer her up. Jo had her kids taken away, and Lillian’s husband left her. They all agreed, though, that torturing yourself over the whys and wherefores was a waste of time.

I’d accepted it then. It seemed to make sense. But I knew now there was no way I could even think about rebuilding my life before I found out why I’d destroyed it.

And I had to show Tom I was taking his theories seriously. Lorna could help me with how Dad had handled the drug scandal, and if there had been any unpleasantness. Matt had worked for the company too, as a chemist, and it was just possible he could shed light on the way the labs worked; might even have known the doctor who wrote the report that caused all the trouble.

My mind was buzzing with so many thoughts I could feel a headache brewing and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. I needed to get out of the flat, to walk until I was tired enough to stop thinking for a while. Long walks were one of the things I missed most when I was inside, and another reason I’d chosen Hastings was because I knew there would be hills to tire me, sea views to soothe me, and long stretches of countryside to exhaust me. It was too late to go far, so a fast tramp up the nearest hill would have to do.

The clouds had lifted again to make a beautiful evening, the sun still high in the sky, the sea calm, and I clamped down on my thoughts and concentrated on putting one foot in front of another. Turning towards the town, I found a convenience store open and bought a phone card, slipped it in with the note for Ruby, and posted it. Then I headed sharp uphill between the jumbled old cottages, along one of the steep cobbled alleyways the locals call twittens.

Before I’d gone far, the alley turned into a flight of almost vertical steps and I was grateful for the handrail, but, all the same, by the time I reached the top my calves were aching and my chest was tight. The climb had left me hot and sticky, but up here a cool breeze blew across the wide stretch of grass, and I was glad to find an empty bench.