The Day She Came Back(29)

‘No.’ Victoria shook her head and stood resolutely with her arms folded, largely to stop them from trembling. ‘I’m not staying. I only came to get a look at you and to tell you that it all feels very convenient, you turning up when you did, but actually, you haven’t told me anything that anyone couldn’t find out with a bit of digging.’ Victoria did not believe this, her instinct told her differently, but she knew that if she didn’t stick to the planned speech in her head, there was no telling what she might say or do.

‘I see.’

‘Do you? Have you the first idea what I am going through right now?’ She heard the anger on which her words coasted, the only emotion she felt able to express. Refraining, just, from breaking down and shrieking that this was her whole life they were talking about – the very fabric of who she was was now in question. The entire exchange was formal and awkward. The way the woman stared at her, as if drinking her in, monitoring her every move, was more than a little disconcerting. ‘I also came to tell you that I need to see some proof. Proof that you are who you say you are and, if you can provide that, then we might have something to talk about, but if you can’t, then I suggest you stay the hell away from me.’ She was shaking now.

Sarah looked at the floor.

‘I have, erm . . . I have photographs and letters and—’

‘Fine. It should be easy then.’ Victoria cut her short. ‘But until I see something concrete . . .’ She breathed out through pursed lips. ‘You could be anyone.’ She cursed the crack to her voice and the gathering of her tears, indicating she didn’t believe this for a second.

‘Do I seem like anyone to you?’ Sarah asked.

Victoria chose her words carefully, looking skyward and then back at the woman who looked at her with a pleading expression. ‘I am so freaked out right now. I don’t know what’s going on. I feel very confused.’

‘I can imagine, I really can.’ Again she reached out, but seemed to think better of it and folded her fingers away. Victoria felt a pull in her chest, almost willing the woman to place her hand on her. Sarah tried to gather herself.

‘I hated to put time pressure on you, but I have to be back in Oslo and I was so very desperate to see you.’ And just like that, her voice was reed thin, spoken from a throat raw with emotion. ‘Can I have your email address?’

Victoria gave it to her, watching as Sarah tucked in her lips and tried to stem her tears. ‘I am so sorry. I can’t stop crying.’

‘Because Prim died or because you’ve seen me?’

‘Both,’ Sarah managed, her voice no more than a squeak. ‘Both.’

‘I have to go.’ Victoria turned on her heel, suddenly keen to put distance between herself and the woman, needing to be alone to try and order the complex range of thoughts and ideas that questioned the only truth she had ever known. She stopped and faced Sarah.

‘You know, I always thought that if it was ever possible to meet my mum, in heaven or whatever, I would run to her and fall into her arms and she would hold me tight and we’d never let each other go. And it would feel like coming home—’

Sarah’s noisy sob interrupted her.

‘Me too . . .’ she muttered between stilted breaths.

‘But here we are.’ She let her palms fall open. ‘In the Holiday Inn Express on Epsom Downs, and I feel . . . blank. Confused. Angry. I feel nothing like I should! And so that makes me doubt what you’re saying. It’s like I’m in a waiting room to see a dentist or a doctor with that same churn of nerves, but magnified. You are a stranger, and the thought of falling into your arms or even calling you my mother is—’ She stopped and her face contorted, trying to think of how to phrase it. ‘Is the last thing I would be able to do.’

Sarah nodded vigorously with her eyes tightly shut, as if this was all to be expected, but no less painful for it. It pulled at Victoria’s heartstrings.

‘I want to see some proof. I think that’s what I need.’ Victoria spoke as she swept from the foyer and didn’t look back.

Mrs Joshi leaned over and opened the door, and Victoria jumped in and fastened the seat belt, in a hurry to be gone from the place.

‘You okay, sweetie?’ Mrs Joshi asked as she started the engine.

Victoria could only nod, her speech impaired by a desire to vomit that was almost overwhelming. She felt Daksha’s hand on her shoulder and was thankful for it.



‘Here you go.’ Daksha handed her a cup of tea and Victoria took it without question. She lifted her knees on the mattress and sat back against the pillows. Daksha jumped into the other end of the bed, and this was how they chatted, top to toe in the way only good friends can.

‘How are you feeling?’

Victoria sighed. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.’

‘But you’re glad you went? Happy you saw her?’

‘I don’t know about happy, but I think it’s the only way for me to figure out what’s going on. She said she had photographs and letters, the proof I asked for.’

‘Is she going to send them?’

‘I gave her my email; I don’t know.’ She took a sip of the restorative tea. ‘Thank you for coming with me today. I don’t think I would have been half so brave if you and your mum hadn’t been in the car park.’