The Day She Came Back(24)

How? How would it even be possible? A mum! My mum! But it’s not possible! Don’t be so bloody stupid! It’s not possible!

‘Prim . . . Prim, please, please tell me you didn’t lie to me. I can’t even begin to . . . Oh, Daks, what if . . .’ The air felt very thin and her chest heaved.

‘It’s okay, Vic. Take deep breaths. That’s it, keep breathing.’

She did as Daksha instructed.





FIVE

Victoria straightened the collar of her blouse and knocked on the door. She wiped the thin peppering of sweat from her top lip and coughed.

‘Victoria!’ Jim Melrose stood back to allow her entry. ‘I was very glad to get your message. I must say I didn’t think you would take me up on the offer quite so soon. But do come in! Come in! I thought it was a wonderful service yesterday. Really wonderful.’

‘Yes, yes, it was, thank you.’ Her mind raced. Was that only yesterday? It could have been weeks ago . . . Her head was swimming with the facts that were still crystallising in her mind, and the person she thought might help her make sense of the whole thing was the jolly, hairy vicar who now beamed at her.

‘Although I do have a confession to make: the lemon drizzle I promised is in short supply today, but we do have some fancy biscuits Mrs Melrose won in a raffle – they should keep us going! Come in! Come in!’ he repeated.

She stepped past him into the narrow hallway, noting the rather austere peachy-coloured woodchip and a single wooden cross hanging by the door. She followed him into a cluttered study that smelled of dog and where piles of paper on various surfaces teetered and threatened to fall as she skirted them.

‘Sit down!’ He pointed at a rather saggy-based wingback chair where several flattened cushions were stacked, as if they could compensate for the dip in the upholstery. She sat down and yes, the chair was as uncomfortable as she had suspected and she was certain that a spring was digging into her thigh.

‘Now, first things first, can I get you a cup of tea?’ He clapped loudly from the other side of the imposing desk.

‘No, thank you.’ She was nervous, and the last thing she wanted to do was juggle a cup and saucer in her agitated state.

‘Okay, well, let’s get right to it. What is it you would like to talk about, Victoria? And no need to hurry. I can imagine that this is a very difficult time for you. Grief is debilitating and it affects no two people in the same way. But I do have some experience; it’s not unusual for people to sit in that very chair, trying to make sense of their loss.’ He smiled and sat back with his fingertips joined to form a pyramid against his chest.

She exhaled. ‘I don’t know where to start, really.’

‘I think the beginning is always the best spot.’ He stared at her.

Victoria took a deep breath and looked into her lap; getting started was a lot harder than she had thought. ‘It is partly about losing my gran, but it’s more than that.’ She smiled at him as anxiety tied her tongue. ‘It’s an odd one, but . . . a woman came to Prim’s funeral who I didn’t recognise and she came to the house afterwards, not inside, but she was in the garden.’ She paused, remembering how she had walked over to her at the lake. ‘And I know how crazy this sounds, but she told me . . . she told me she was my mum.’

‘Forgive me.’ He lowered his hands. ‘But I thought your mother passed away?’

‘I know.’ She looked up briefly. ‘Yes, she did. Or at least I thought she did. She did, I mean, I don’t know. I don’t know anything . . .’ She ran her fingers through her hair.

‘Take your time.’ He spoke kindly, and it helped.

‘There was something the woman said yesterday – about my name, my real name, and her handwriting, and the way she looked . . .’

‘I don’t really understand what you are saying to me.’ The vicar too was clearly struggling with the inference. ‘You think this woman is your mother?’

‘I’m not sure!’ Victoria bit her lip. ‘I don’t really understand it either, but the woman who turned up at the funeral came to the house again this morning and left a note. She has asked me to make contact with her, as she is only here for a short time, and I don’t know what to do and I wondered if you might know anything about it. I left a message for a man she was chatting to in the churchyard, but he hasn’t got back to me. I know Prim wasn’t a churchgoer, not really, but I thought if she might have told anyone about this, it would be you. Or her boyfriend, Gerald, but I thought I’d try you first.’ She hated the desperate, hopeful longing in her chest, wanting nothing more than answers from him, or anyone else for that matter.

The vicar sat forward in the chair and shook his head, his expression now more solemn than jolly. ‘No. I don’t know anything about this. I heard from others that your mother had died when you were a baby. I think your grandfather might even have told me about the situation, but Prim and I never discussed it. She was a very private woman.’

‘Yes, she was.’

‘And you think there might be grounds to what this woman is claiming?’ he asked softly, with an unmistakable air of disbelief. And she understood; if she’d heard it, she too would think it implausible. God, she did find it implausible! And yet here she was.

‘I honestly don’t know what to make of it. I guess I felt there was something familiar about her when I met her and then, this morning, my best friend, Daksha, who’s really good at this type of thing, said she thought there might be something in it.’