Beneath the Surface (28 page)

‘Mum?’ Lauren was standing behind her. She hadn’t heard her daughter join them. ‘What might she not remember?’

‘Let’s see how the next couple of hours go,’ Dr Emmett said calmly. ‘I just suggested you both might like to take a break, get something to eat. Let Hannah sleep for a bit.’

But Lauren shook her head. ‘You go, Mum. I’m not leaving her.’

*****

It was too wrong to even think it but maybe if Hannah could just not remember what had happened that morning … It was a sick thought and something she should never wish upon her daughter – a sick, sick thought. But say she didn’t remember it, then Hannah and Lauren need never know and Kathryn could put it all right. She would make them happy; even let Hannah go away, if that’s what she wanted. But then of course she had made a deal with God earlier. And He was probably looking down on her right now and thinking,
It didn’t take you long to forget your end of the bargain, so maybe I won’t keep mine
.

And of course that Dominic boy knew something. Maybe Hannah had told him all of it. Or maybe she hadn’t.

What would you do, Mother
? Kathryn closed her eyes as she leaned against the wall, waiting for the lift.
How would you handle this shitty mess I’m in
?

‘Kathryn!’

She opened her eyes and saw Morrie coming towards her, just as the lift pinged next to her.

‘Wait for me.’

‘It’s good of you to come,’ she said as he reached the lift, his breath short and sharp, as if any exertion was a shock to his body.

‘Of course I was going to come. As soon as Lauren called me I told her I’d try and find you, then come over.’

They found the cafeteria on the second floor. Kathryn scanned the room, for what she didn’t really know. Maybe in case she saw someone she knew, perhaps that Dominic. But she didn’t recognise anyone and chose a small table by the window overlooking the car park, where she sat waiting for Morrie to bring tea for them both.

‘You don’t look good,’ he remarked when he’d joined her. She watched him open a sachet of sugar and tap it into his cup, transfixed on his spoon as it swirled his tea in decreasing circles. ‘Tell me what’s happening with Hannah. Have you spoken to the doctor?’

‘Just now,’ Kathryn said, wrapping her fingers around her own cup and looping a thumb through the handle as she relayed to Morrie what the doctor had told her.

‘I think it sounds like good news, considering. And you’re bound to worry, but she’s in a great place and they’ll tell you—’

‘I’ve ruined everything, Morrie,’ she interrupted.

The spoon stooped swirling and she felt his gaze rest on her. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

Morrie knew her well. She didn’t know if he would even be surprised when he heard what she had done. He might have suspected for years there was something oddly secretive about her.

‘I told Hannah something this morning. That’s why she took off like she did. She’s in here because of me.’

‘Oh, and this thing you told her,’ he paused and rested his spoon on the table, laying his hands out flat. ‘I take it, this was something pretty bad?’

Kathryn nodded.

‘Do you want to tell me what it is?’

‘Oh, Morrie,’ Kathryn groaned, burying her face in the palms of her hands, ‘I’ve done something so awful!’ And before she could stop herself, she told him all about Hannah and Abigail. When she’d finished she couldn’t bear to look at his face, to see his shock or disgust staring back at her.

But he didn’t say a word. Not even an intake of breath or a sigh gave away what he thought about Kathryn. When his silence became too hard to bear and she had nothing more to say, she chanced a glance at him.

Morrie’s eyes always gave him away. They were deep blue with flecks of grey and when he laughed she saw the sea sparkle in them. But when he was unsettled they clouded over and the grey deepened, making him look sad. Kathryn was with Morrie when he took the call telling him his father had died. The two hadn’t had a relationship for twenty years and Morrie always professed to feel nothing towards the man who had left his mother. When he’d hung up the phone, he straightened up and turned back to hauling the fishing nets into the boat. But Kathryn had seen the dullness in his eyes, and she could feel the depth of sadness and regret in them. That day in the hospital cafeteria was no different.

‘I don’t expect you to stay,’ she whispered, tears she hadn’t even realised she had been crying choking her words.

Morrie reached over and took hold of her hand. ‘I’m just trying to take it all in,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Out of everything you’ve just told me the hardest thing to get my head around is that the girls aren’t twins, not even sisters, they look so—’

Kathryn waited for him to continue. They didn’t look alike at all but no one had ever questioned it, barely remarked on it. She herself saw it every time Lauren came back from the beach, though, her pale skin freckled and often blemished with patches of red where the sun cream hadn’t been evenly spread, while Hannah’s was brushed gold. How Lauren’s hair curled at the ends ever so softly, but Hannah’s was poker-straight. Little reminders that the girls could never be the twins everyone thought them to be.

‘I guess they just behave like twins,’ he said sadly. ‘So what are you going to do about Lauren? She might not know yet but she’s going to need to. Something like this can’t be contained. You do know that, don’t you?’

Kathryn sighed and looked out of the window.

‘Don’t let her hear it from someone else.’

‘I need to see my mother,’ she announced.

‘What, now?’ Morrie asked.

‘I have to,’ she said calmly. ‘There’s things I need to ask her. She’s the only one who can tell me what I need to do.’

‘But Kathryn, Eleanor can’t do that,’ he said, gripping her hand tighter as she made to stand. ‘And you need to be here,’ he added. ‘Hannah needs you, they both need you.’

‘But I have to.’ Kathryn nodded her head in confirmation that seeing Eleanor was her only option. ‘Don’t you see, she got me into this, she needs to tell me how to get out of it.’

‘I can’t admit I have any idea why you think you need to run off to your mother, but just stay put for a moment, will you? Let’s see how we can work this through together.’ Morrie let go of his grip on her hand and sat back in his own seat. ‘Your mother won’t be able to help you, Kathryn. This is something you have to deal with yourself.’

Kathryn nodded, trying to reassure Morrie that she agreed with him. ‘I’m just going to the bathroom,’ she said, and before he could say another word she hurried out of the restaurant.

At the top of the stairs she patted her pockets to check for her keys. Throwing a quick glance towards the restaurant behind her, Kathryn turned and took the two flights of stairs down to the main entrance and out to the car park. She couldn’t expect anyone to understand but it was the only thing she could think of doing.

Dear Adam,

The last time I saw my grandmother was in 2003, two years after my mother left me. I was living in a shared house in North London. The night she turned up I had already been drinking. She stood at the door cloaked in a long cashmere coat and fur hat, and could not have looked more out of place.

‘Why do you keep turning up, Eleanor?’ I said to her. ‘Can’t you just leave me alone?’

‘I’m just checking on you,’ she said, peering over my shoulder. ‘Well, I would invite you in,’ I said. ‘But I don’t know if it’s quite your scene.’

‘So, do you need any more money?’ she asked, wrapping her coat tighter around her as if to ward off any germs that might have come out of the house.

‘What is this? A Christmas bonus for being a good girl?’ I laughed. ‘No, Eleanor, you can take your money and you can sod off! And don’t come back again,’ I shouted as she retreated down the path.

*****

I waited in my car outside Elms Home, sick with the anticipation of seeing her again. For fifteen minutes I stared at the large building, with its perfectly manicured bushes decorating the front. I had the same feelings swishing through my stomach that I’d had twelve years ago. It was as if I was walking into an examination and I hadn’t prepared enough.

‘I assume you’re aware of her condition?’ The woman who opened the door asked, ushering me into the expansive entrance hall. Home from home, I thought. Eleanor was still living in luxury even in a care home.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Is it serious?’

‘Oh,’ she replied. ‘I thought you would know. Most of our residents here suffer from some form of dementia.’

‘Dementia?’

‘Yes. Eleanor has Alzheimer’s.’

I couldn’t believe it. Did that mean she might not remember me? If that was the case I could stop panicking – I would have a plausible story if she didn’t recognise me. But then what was the point in seeing her if she couldn’t tell me where the girls were living?

‘Katie?’ the woman was asking. ‘Katie, are you OK, dear?’

‘What? Oh, yes! I’m fine, sorry. I just don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.’

Actually I did know what I expected: an older, even more bitter version of the grandmother I remembered from my past, shrunk into a chair in a nursing home maybe, but definitely still with a very clear and commanding mind.

‘Well, go and sit yourself through there,’ she said, nodding towards a lounge. ‘Someone is collecting her. Can I get you a drink?’

I asked for water and she scurried off, leaving me to find a seat, to wait and watch. There were at least a dozen residents in the lounge, mostly women. All of them sat alone, contemplating the garden. The air was still and deathly quiet and anticipation hung above the room like smog, gradually falling lower until I felt it would smother me. I practised taking deep breaths, counting One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, just as Mae had once taught me. It’s amazing how such a simple technique can actually make you feel calmer.

But then I saw her.

A young girl entered a door at the far side of the room and holding onto her arm was Eleanor. She was shuffling along slowly, her back bending her body into a ‘C’, her slippers scuffing against the carpet. I could hear each step she made as she moved towards a chair right in front of me, before dropping into it with a heavy fall. At first glance it could have been any old woman. I might have walked straight past her on the street. She looked so frail. The last time I saw her she stood tall, her stature making her presence felt, but the years had moulded her body and caused her to shrink. Her hair was white and no longer streaked with the gold highlights religiously threaded into her coarse bob. The skin on her hands was paper-thin. Her long bony fingers draped over the arm of the chair and I recognised the emerald ring that now hung loosely on her wedding finger. A grotesque thing in its size and shape, I’d never liked it.

I stood up, my legs jelly-like. I thought they might not hold my weight, but they did as I slowly walked over to her. Once I reached her chair, the same woman who had let me in appeared with my glass of water and announced to Eleanor, ‘Look, dear, you have a visitor to see you. Katie.’ She turned to me as she said, ‘Your cousin’s granddaughter?’

I nodded and waited for Eleanor’s reaction. She was in no hurry to look up at me and when she did, she moved her head only slightly to the right to look at me. Her face remained impassive. The woman took hold of my arm and leaned in to me.

‘She might not recognise you, dear,’ she said quietly. ‘She has days when she doesn’t recognise anyone.’

‘Anyone?’ I asked.

‘Sometimes not even her own daughter.’

Her daughter – my mother. So she was still alive and visiting Eleanor. The mention of Kathryn sent a jolt through me. They must all come here; she and the girls would sit in this very room. They may have only been yesterday. A sickening thought struck me: they may all be coming that day. I looked around me, suddenly expecting my mother to appear.

‘Anyway, I’ll leave you two to it,’ the woman said. ‘Just give me a shout if there’s anything you need.’

‘Actually,’ I told her, ‘you might be able to help me locate the rest of my family. Kathryn, isn’t it, the daughter?’

‘That’s it. Lovely lady,’ she said.

Was there a hint of sarcasm or had I imagined it?

‘Would you be able to help?’ I asked, hopefully.

‘I could pass on your number,’ she smiled. ‘But obviously I wouldn’t be able to give you any confidential details.’ She walked away, leaving me alone with the old woman, who was still staring at me, although Eleanor’s expression had by now changed to one of curiosity.

‘Who are you really?’ she asked.

‘As they said, my name’s Katie,’ I told her.

She shook her head. ‘No.’

Her face was covered in a thick layer of powder and her gaze pierced right into me. She didn’t once take her eyes off me, summing me up, trying to figure out if she knew who I was or not. They flickered occasionally as if a memory swam through her mind, but her cold blue irises didn’t once drift. I tried to maintain eye contact, to not let her win this one. I had something over her, I told myself: I have my mind.

‘What are you here for?’ she asked me.

‘I wanted to ask you something,’ I replied. Watching her shuffling across the lounge only moments earlier I’d been less afraid of her, but now I was so close to her, I felt uneasy. My grandmother might have dementia and have lost that once so powerful mind but she was still able to make it look as though her mind was her strongest weapon.

‘Go ahead,’ she said.

‘I’m looking to trace some of our family and I wondered if you knew where I could find them?’ I asked. ‘Kathryn, in particular.’

‘You remind me of someone,’ she said, ignoring my question.

At this I shifted uncomfortably, wishing her eyes would stop boring through me.