The Couple at No. 9(88)

50


Lorna





Lorna’s hand is shaking as she holds the mug. She’s drunk so much caffeine these last ten days she feels like she’s swimming in it.

Sitting opposite her on the sofa, next to Saffy, DS Barnes is wearing an earnest expression as he hunches over his notebook. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ says Lorna. ‘We think the body you found belongs to Rose Grey. My …’ She swallows. ‘My real mother.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ says DS Barnes, looking up at Lorna, his bright blue eyes full of sympathy.

‘I … Thank you.’ She’s not sure what he’s sorry for. The fact that it seems like the woman she’s always thought of as her mother is a murderer, after all. Or for the fact her real mother is probably dead.

Saffy has hardly said a word. She’s sitting with her hands in her lap, her face pinched, her dark eyebrows knitted together in worry. Another blow for Saffy, thinks Lorna, with regret. How much more can she take?

‘Rose … Daphne … she could still be innocent, you know. She might not have killed the real Rose Grey, if it is indeed Rose’s body that was found,’ he says. ‘That still could have been Victor Carmichael, and it’s something we’ll be looking into, rest assured.’

‘But then why steal her identity?’ asks Lorna.

‘It might have been the opportunity she needed to keep you safe. If Victor is your father and she was scared of him for some reason …’

‘I suppose,’ says Lorna, a flicker of hope igniting inside her, although she’s trying to douse it. She doesn’t want to be disappointed.

DS Barnes leaves at the same time Tom returns from his walk with Snowy. It’s dark now and it’s begun to rain. Snowy’s fur is furrowed around his face, like wrinkles. Lorna watches as Saffy embraces Tom, burying her head in his chest as though she’s trying to erase the last few hours from her mind.

‘So,’ says Tom, walking into the living room, ‘what did the police say?’

‘They’ve already taken Mum’s DNA because of Theo,’ says Saffy, bestowing on Lorna a watery smile. ‘So they’ll take DNA from the body to see if it’s a close enough match to Mum’s …’ She moves away from Tom to stand by the fireplace. Lorna is worried about her. All this can’t be good for the baby.

Tom slumps onto the sofa and scratches his head. ‘Shit, this is just … shit.’

‘I know,’ Saffy says, joining him. She glances at Lorna, her eyes shining. ‘But even if Gran isn’t really my genetic grandmother,’ she clutches her heart, ‘I still love her. Is that wrong?’

‘Of course not, sweetheart,’ says Lorna, fighting back tears. She sits on the other side of her daughter and pulls her into a hug. ‘I don’t really remember my real mother at all. Just images and only since being here. It’s more of a feeling somehow. Like grief. And I wonder …’ she blinks back tears – she can’t cry now ‘… if maybe it’s the memory of grieving for my real mum. Who knows? All I remember is her … Daphne.’

‘You were so young, Mum. Not even three. I need to go and see Gran tomorrow. Will you come with me?’ she asks, looking up at Lorna with her big, dark eyes, reminding her of the little girl she once was.

‘Of course. But, honey, don’t expect any answers.’

When they reach Elm Brook the next day, they are told that Rose is deteriorating and is in bed. Saffy sits on one side of her, Lorna the other, and they watch as she sleeps, her eyelids flickering, as though she’s in a dream. Another world where she’s Daphne Hartall, perhaps.

‘She looks so small,’ whispers Lorna. ‘Every time I see her she looks smaller. And if she is Daphne Hartall – Jean Burdon – then she’d be nearly eighty.’

Saffy doesn’t say anything. Instead she stares down at the woman she’s known all these years as Gran. Lorna watches as Saffy reaches over and takes her gran’s hand. She feels conflicted: this woman is no relation to them at all, yet she’s the only mother she’s ever known. The only grandmother that Saffy has ever known, and their bond is still there, still so visible.

‘I wish I could remember my real mother,’ says Lorna. There is a heaviness in her chest. ‘It’s like … she, Daphne …’ she almost spits out her name ‘… has wiped my memories all clean.’

‘Mum!’ Saffy looks shocked at the anger in Lorna’s voice.

Lorna gets up. ‘I’m going to get us a drink,’ she says. She doesn’t know if she can do this. Sit by this woman’s bedside, knowing that she lied to them for all these years and perhaps even killed her real mother. Lorna’s just about to move towards the door when Rose’s eyes flutter open.

‘Gran, it’s me, Saffy,’ says her granddaughter, gently, lovingly.

It’s obvious she doesn’t recognize them today. She seems to shrink further into the bed as though scared of them.

‘It’s okay, Gran, it’s me,’ says Saffy, in a soothing voice, still holding the older woman’s hand. ‘It’s me, Saffy.’

‘Hello, Daphne,’ says Lorna. She can hear Saffy’s sharp intake of breath, feel her disapproval. ‘We know who you are. Who you really are.’