The Day She Came Back(32)

March 2001

Sarah Jackson

Henbury House

West Sussex

I’m feeling better, thanks for asking. I’m doing really well.

And for your information, this place is more like a prison. I am locked in. LOCKED IN! It may come with a glossy brochure but be under no illusion the place is a jail. A jail you pay for. You knew that, though, right?

Of course you did.

I don’t need anything from you.

Nothing!

So do your worst, change the locks, unplug the phone, bag up the stuff in my room and bin it – or whatever else you are threatening – I really don’t care!

Marcus is everything. I love him! I don’t know what part of that is so hard for you and Dad to get. But I’m sick of trying to make you understand. Bloody sick of it!

The way you want to hem me in, control me, I can’t stand it. I’m twenty-one, a grown adult, and it’s not fair. I won’t let you do it any more.

You always said you wanted me to find someone to love who loved me back. Well, I have, but now that’s not good enough because what you meant was you wanted to pick someone for me, someone you and Dad approve of, someone from the bloody tennis club.

Here’s the thing, like it or not, Marcus and I come as a package.

And when I get out of here we will start afresh.

The plan is to get a nice little place and maybe have a garden, grow some vegetables. I’d like a dog – you know I’ve always wanted a dog . . .

Life will be good, but I can’t see you being part of it, not with how you hate the man I love. And I know you hate him so don’t try and deny it! Can you imagine your precious Sunday lunches at Rosebank with Marcus and me on one side and you and Dad on the other, scowling at him over Granny C’s best china?

No, me either.

Marcus says: Hate and recrimination are big things and if you let them fill you up it brings you the opposite of peace because if you hate it takes all of your energy – and that’s such a waste; how can you live life weighed down like that?

But that’s something for you to figure out, not me.

Oh, and I guess you should know; I’m pregnant.

It’s the incentive I need to finish what I’ve started here.

As I said, I am doing really well.

I think it’s wonderful news, a baby, but as I sit here at this desk in the corner of the recreation room, I can see your face as clearly as if you are standing in front of me and you look upset, shocked, angry – in the way you always do because nothing, nothing I ever do is quite good enough for you.

But you know what? I don’t care. I DON’T CARE!





S


Pregnant . . . pregnant with me . . .

Reaching for her phone and with her fingers shaking, Victoria dialled the number at the bottom of the email.

She read the numbers aloud: ‘0047 22 . . .’

‘Hello?’

The sound of Sarah’s voice threw her, and the words stuck in Victoria’s throat. It took all of her effort to get sound out.

‘You . . . you are my mum, aren’t you? You’re really her!’ she croaked, holding the computer screen to her face, again studying the minute detail of the photograph, wishing she could remember some of it, anything.

‘I am.’ Sarah spoke slowly, clearly, as if overcome with emotion. ‘I am your mum. I am.’

‘You didn’t die. Even though everyone told me you did, you didn’t die!’

‘No, darling, I didn’t die.’

Victoria gripped the phone as a sob left her throat with a sound that was close to a whimper.

‘Prim lied to me! She lied to me! You lied to me! You all did! Everyone! Everyone I loved, everyone I have lost.’ Her voice was clear, despite being distorted by her sobs. ‘What am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to do now? And who am I supposed to trust?’

Sarah took her time in replying. ‘I have always hoped – believed – that one day I’d get the chance to explain to you what my life was like, what our life was like.’ She took a slow breath. ‘It was a mess of a time, chaotic, and it was only when we all came out the other side, years later, that we were able to analyse the decisions we made. Did we get it right? Probably not, but we did the best we could, Victory. We did the best we could.’ Sarah started crying so hard she could barely catch her breath.

‘And, and you are sure Prim knew you were alive?’ Victoria sniffed and asked the question, still hoping at some level that there was a reasonable excuse that would keep Prim from being implicated, meaning her gran had not lied. Meaning their relationship could remain intact.

‘Yes. Yes, she knew,’ Sarah levelled.

Victoria felt like she’d been punched in the chest. She let her head fall to her chest and lowered the phone for a second. What was it Prim used to say?

‘That’s the things with lies, darling; they are like wounds that never quite heal, the hurt goes too deep. It’s not only the thing that is said or done that rankles, it’s also the fact that the person lying to you thinks you are stupid enough to fall for it.’

Victoria knew she must be very stupid, because she had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Again she put the phone to her face.

‘And . . . and Grandpa too?’ Her bottom lip quivered.

Again, Sarah’s voice was steady. ‘Yes, he knew.’