The Day She Came Back(30)

‘Yes, you would. You can do anything, Vic.’

‘I wish I believed that.’

‘It’s true, you’re amazing.’

‘Thank you, Daks. I don’t remember much about it; it was over in a blink. I feel like I ran in and ran out. I was so scared.’

‘It was longer than a blink. I was watching you both.’

‘So what did you think?’ Victoria necked a mouthful of tea, keen to hear her friend’s appraisal.

‘From what I could see, she looked a lot like you. And yours is a face I stare at every single day and have done for the last five years. It’s a face I love, and I probably know it better than you because I look at it more.’ She swallowed. ‘And because her mouth went up at the edges like yours does when you are trying to convince someone of something. She had the same expression. She looked like your mum, I would say.’

‘God, Daks.’ Victoria’s chest felt tight and her breathing constricted. ‘I need not to get ahead; I need to wait and see proof. I can’t let myself think that she . . . that she is . . . because what does that mean for me? What does that mean for my whole life?’ I need proof . . . I need to wait for that . . . because it’s too huge to get wrong . . . too important to mess up . . . but I know . . . I know it in my heart . . . I do . . .

But yes, even she could see it: Sarah Hansen looked a lot like her. With this thought came a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to knock her sideways. She held on to the mattress and closed her eyes, and even though she was stationary, she felt it entirely possible that she might fall over.

‘Half of me wants it to be true and the other half can’t bear to think about it. She’s a stranger, but she might be my mum . . .’ She shook her head. How, Prim? How?

‘Shall we google her?’ Daksha sat upright, as the idea occurred to her.

‘I . . . I guess.’

‘I mean, you’ve not googled her before, have you?’

‘No, Daks. Firstly, there was no point in googling my dead mother and, secondly, I didn’t know the name Hansen until yesterday!’

‘Good point.’ Daksha scrabbled from the bed and reached for the laptop on the floor, handing it to Victoria. ‘You do it.’

With her mug of tea now on the nightstand, she slowly opened up the machine and typed: ‘Sarah Hansen’. There were many, but one thumbnail picture stood out. Her Sarah Hansen, a partner in a law firm in Oslo – a lawyer! She clicked on the bio and read the woman’s credentials and her expertise of working in family law, before handing the machine to Daksha.

‘That’s her. A lawyer.’ She thought of the conversations over the years where Prim had lamented the waste of her daughter’s life.

‘She had the whole world at her feet, reading law at Durham! Set for life, until that man came along and got her in his clutches!’ It was invariably at this point that her gran would reach for her handkerchief, as usual secreted up her sleeve. Even the thought of Prim sharing confidences with her was more than Victoria could stand tonight.

‘What are you going to do now, Vic?’

Slipping down under the duvet, she closed her eyes, wanting to hide from the world. If her thoughts were usually anchored, tonight they were in free fall, floating in her brain and recoiling as they collided.

‘I am going to sleep and will wait for the proof.’ I want to disappear, shut down . . . just for a while . . .

‘You go ahead, honey. I’ll guard you,’ Daksha cooed, and just her kindness, the fact that she was not going to leave her alone, was enough to make Victoria’s tears fall, travelling over her nose to form a damp patch on the pillowslip.

She was quite unable to settle and turned over on the mattress, crying quietly at the wonder and horror of the news. Flipping her hot pillow to the cold side, she kicked off her cover, only to reach for it minutes later.



Victoria woke the next morning glad of the chance to get up and face the day, knowing that, at least in the daylight hours, she might be able to occupy her thoughts with chores or the distraction of chatting to Daksha, blocking out the tsunami of intrusive questions that were coming at her thick and fast. She carried the same feeling of anticipation tinged with nerves. A movie played in her mind over and over of the way Sarah had tried to hold her, reaching out as if desperate to make skin-to-skin contact, and her own confusing revulsion whilst half wanting, no, craving that contact. Of one thing she was certain: if the woman was a con, then she was a bloody good one. The truth was, Victoria expected to have their relationship confirmed, anticipated that proof would be forthcoming and was putting off the moment she had to face that particular reality: that her whole life up until this point had been a sham. The thought was enough to make her catch her breath. Daksha had fallen asleep at the other end of the bed and was snoring.

Victoria reached for her laptop, deciding to google Sarah again and read some more about her career, keen to glean any little detail she could. She flipped open the screen and there were no less than sixteen new emails waiting for her. Sitting up straight, she stared at her inbox – they were all from Sarah.

Hello Victoria,

I have only just got home and am scanning these so you get them sooner rather than later. Having to send them separately as I only know how to load one at a time.

I can’t imagine what the last few hours have been like for you, but expect, like me, you are doing a lot of reflecting. My thoughts are all over the place and my emotions high.