Before She Was Mine (26 page)

Of course, Nicky’s mum had been beside herself when I first contacted Melody. ‘What about Liv?’ she wanted to know. ‘Won’t it feel like a dreadful
rejection?’

I told her I’d asked Liv and she was fine about it. That’s what she’d said: ‘fine’. That she was happy if I was happy. Why would she lie? Everyone involved had been
completely cool.

At that Mrs Steuer had tossed her head. ‘I don’t believe it’s been as easy as you make out. I think you’ve been protected from an awful lot.’

Bloody Joan Steuer. What did she know about it? Another memory: me shouting down the stairs at Love Lane for bleach to clean the toilet, Melody telling me not to bother, she’d been
squirting bubble bath down the pan for weeks and it did the job OK.

The sun filtered down between the green rows of plants as I moved along the top edge with my baling twine, looping, knotting and clipping. Magpies and crows rip holes in the net, and we wage a
constant battle against hungry rodents and insects. Once we had a tribe of badgers run amok; the damage they did was unbelievable. The trouble is, everything loves raspberries. If they were growing
in my garden I’d be happy to share them but as Ray says, this is a commercial enterprise, not a wildlife café. I went on mending nets in the still of the afternoon.

I had thought I was pretty hidden between the tall canes, so it made me jump when someone called out, ‘Freya.’ The knot I was working on pulled tight, and I raised my head to see
Christian advancing down the row towards me. He wore a white shirt and pale chinos and I wondered what kind of a mess the soil was making of his Italian shoes.

‘Hello, you,’ he said, his voice softer and less jaunty than usual.

I let him come forward and kiss me on the cheek. ‘You’re not really supposed to be back here. If Ray catches you, I’ll be in trouble.’

‘It’s fine. It’s just, I needed to see you.’

‘How’s Nicky?’

Immediately he looked stricken. ‘I don’t know. I can’t – I’ve been filming in Lincoln, and it’s been – I did try once or twice, but . . . Is she still
upset?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Fuck.’

He ran his hand through his hair. Sunlight dappled his smooth pale complexion, and gave a green cast to his shirt.

I said, ‘You need to sit down with her and explain what’s going on. People ask her how the wedding plans are going and she has no idea what to say, it’s horrible for
her.’

‘Oh, God. I don’t want to hurt her.’

‘Then don’t.’

‘It’s not that simple, Frey. I wish it were.’

He put his palms against the leaves in a despairing pose, and even in the midst of my panic I thought,
That would make a lovely painting.

‘What’s the deal, Christian? Tell me.’

‘Look,’ he said, coming very near, so I could smell his aftershave and see the golden stubble on his chin. ‘You know her the best. You’ll understand when I tell
you.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t go through with it. I can’t marry her.’

‘Jesus.’

‘Ever. I should never have asked.’

‘Why did you, then? Don’t you love her?’

‘I do, I do.’

‘Then there’s no issue. She loves you. She’s potty about you. She wants nothing more than to be Mrs Bliaise.’

This time he actually doubled up as though I’d punched him in the stomach. After a second or two’s hesitation, I put my arm round his shoulders, the way you might do if
someone’s being sick.

‘Christian?’

When he straightened, he did look ill. But perhaps that was just the effect of chlorophyll.

‘I
hate
this,’ he said. ‘It’s killing me. Whatever I do, I’m going to be hurting someone. If Nicky could understand, she’d see it was better to end it
now.’

‘Is there someone else?’ Some young up-and-coming actress, I was imagining, some media type with clicking high heels and perfect nails. That was it. He’d fallen in love on the
job.

‘No! God, how could you even think that?’

‘What’s the problem, then? Because from where I’m standing, you’ve got the perfect match! The perfect life! Don’t fuck it up for no reason!’

He took both my hands in his, gazed into my eyes. ‘Oh, Freya, Freya, I love you, you’re so
straightforward
.’

My cheeks flamed.

‘It’s
background
,’ he went on. ‘That’s the issue.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘You see, I never gave it any thought, but my mother saw it at once. Nicky and I, we’re just too different, it’s too big a gulf. We’d make each other unhappy in the long
run.’

I still wasn’t totally with him. ‘By background, you don’t mean like the house she grew up in, and what her dad does for a living?’

‘Some of those things. But they’re not key. God, we’re not snobs. It’s to do with attitude, and expectation, and, and, it’s hard to define. It’s
difference
.’

‘Difference can be good.’

‘She wouldn’t fit in. I wouldn’t fit into her world either. She’s not happy when she comes down to stay, you know. Within a few days we’re bickering, she’s
sulking over some tiny slight she’s imagined. There’s always a terrible atmosphere.’

That’s your bloody mother’s fault
, I thought. ‘It doesn’t happen when you stay with Joan and Derek.’

‘No.’ He seemed uncertain.

‘I know for a fact they bend over backwards to make you comfortable. Joan cleans the house for days before you arrive, Derek gets special whisky in. They think the sun shines out of
you.’

‘It’s not the same as “fitting in”. I don’t feel comfortable there. Not really.’

‘Joan would be devastated if she could hear you.’

He loosed my hands despairingly. ‘I can’t lie. That’s how I feel. It was naïve of me to think it didn’t matter. Love’s made up of so many different elements,
it’s not enough just to say “I love you” and that’s an end.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No. Life’s tough—’

‘You don’t have to tell me that, Christian.’

‘—and to battle through it you need someone by your side who’s, who’s the same, who sees the world from the same perspective. It’s crucial for an enduring
match.’

That’s so your mother speaking
, I thought. ‘Look, why did you come here? What did you hope I could do?’

‘Speak to Nicky for me. Help her understand. You know the way to talk to her.’

I shook my head vehemently. ‘Not my job. This has to come from you. And anyway, I don’t think you will go to her and announce it’s over. You’re better than that. Saner.
Christian, you’d be mad to throw everything away.’

There might have been tears in his eyes. ‘I’m not mad, Frey, I’m just not sure this marriage is right.’

‘Then all I can offer you is that I’ll be around to pick up the pieces afterwards.’

He put his fingertips to the side of my face. ‘Of course you will. I’ll try to make it clear and quick.’ Honest goodness radiated from him; or perhaps that was the light
dazzling through the canes. ‘And I hope I can count on your friendship, whatever happens.’

Whatever happens. The air was very still, a robin sang liquidly in the hedge behind.

‘Yes,’ I said, feeling my cheek tingle.

Case Notes on: Melody Jacqueline Brewster

Meeting Location:
42,
Love Lane, Nantwich

Present: Miss Melody Brewster, Mrs Abby Brewster, Mst Michael Carden, Mrs Diane Kozyra

Date:
10.45
a.m.,
23/3/87

Melody seemed upbeat during the whole visit, and full of energy. She wanted to talk about her own future and where she sees herself in ten years’ time, she
doesn’t want to be dependent on her mother any longer than necessary and is keen to leave home. Currently she is hoping to pass her CSEs then go on to study design at sixth-form college. She
showed me some of her sketch books and patterns.

I explained to her how smoothly the first meeting had gone between baby Fay and her adoptive parents at the foster home, and how they were enjoying their parenting classes. I stressed how
closely their contact with Fay would be monitored throughout the whole process. Melody listened and said several times she was pleased, but then quickly changed the subject back to her college
plans. I think this information needs revising at next
visit, to make sure Melody has fully absorbed what stage we’re at.

Towards the end of the session Melody’s stepbrother Michael came into the room (he has been off school with an ear infection). She made him sit by her, brought him a drink and put a
cushion behind his head so he was more comfortable. I observed to Mrs Brewster that Melody was an attentive stepsister. She said, ‘She never leaves him alone.’

I congratulated them on how well Melody is doing, and on the general level of family support.

Next visit:
30/3/87

Signed: Diane Kozyra

Dreamed I was being chased by the zombies out of
Resident Evil
, then woke at two in the morning convinced I’d heard the phone ring. Everything was quiet, but I
needed a pee so I got up anyway. On my way back from the bathroom I stopped to rescue a scalloped oak moth that had got in through the landing window and was leaving frenzied dusty streaks against
the sill. I opened my hands and the moth dropped away into the outside dark; at the same moment I noticed a faint light coming from the bottom of the stairs.

I crept down half a dozen steps and listened. I thought I could hear Liv’s voice, low and emotional. Carefully I made my way down to the hall where I stood for a minute or two, trying to
work out what was going on. The dining-room door was ajar and still it was just Liv talking. Geraint must be doing his usual impression of a pudding, sitting uselessly while she poured out her
heart. But then I heard her go, ‘Yes, it’s hard when you feel that way,’ and I realised she was having a conversation with someone I couldn’t hear. A Samaritan, I guessed.
She used to phone them occasionally after Colin died. Or maybe she was taking to one of the cancer helplines.

I hesitated, not wanting to eavesdrop but in that instant gutted she would call a stranger in the night rather than speak to me about her worries. It really was as though I came last in this
house.

‘. . . when people suggest you can overcome cancer just by Being Positive,’ she was saying. ‘That gets me down sometimes. It’s a physical disease, for heaven’s
sake. You wouldn’t tell an amputee they could re-grow a limb by keeping chipper, would you?’

Silence while she listened, and then a little laugh.

‘That’s right. Yes, and when they say, “It’s going to be fine,” and they have no idea whether it is or not. I want to reply, “Oh, I didn’t realise you
were a qualified oncologist.” That’s awful of me, isn’t it? I know they only want to help. So I put on my coping face and smile . . . But on the other hand, pretending
everything’s OK actually does help me feel stronger. Even though the cancer’s constantly on my— Oh, wait.’

I ducked back under the stairs but it was too late, she’d seen movement.

‘Frey? Is that you?’

If I could have turned and run, I would. But that would have been the action of a child. ‘Checking you were OK,’ I said, pushing open the door wide.

She was still holding the receiver, while her other hand pulled the kimono across her wounded chest. Her head was bare, which was a shock because she normally wore the wig at all times, even
round the house.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, appalled to have caught her in this state.

‘No, no, it’s fine.’

Liv pressed ‘end call’, and made a grab for a tea towel that was drying on the radiator. Then she wound it hurriedly round her scalp so no bare skin was on show. That felt hurtful as
well. Didn’t she think I could cope with her nakedness? I was the one who sheared her, for God’s sake.

‘Who was on the phone?’

‘No one.’

I gaped at the blatant lie.

‘Well, Melody.’

‘What did she want?’

‘Just to chat, really.’ She gave a quick, meant-to-be-reassuring smile. ‘Bullfinch’ read the caption over her brow: the tea towel was a British Garden Birds design,
bought when we last went round Hawkstone Park. We’d sat in a sandstone cave to shelter from the rain and she’d read out a leaflet about Shropshire myths and legends. Later we’d
climbed the tower and dropped pigeon feathers from the parapet.

‘To chat? At two o clock in the morning?

‘Way past your bedtime, that’s for sure,’ she said, as though I was about nine. She pushed back her chair, rose, and switched off the light so we were left in near
darkness.

How can you shut me out?
I wanted to ask.
I’m not a kid any more. I need you to let me support you, it’s less frightening that way. I’m in limbo otherwise.
Can’t you see?
The words were loud in my head.
Melody lets me in.

Something fluttered against the window pane. The air was hot and thick. I only had to speak out.

‘Night night, Freya,’ Liv said.

I had meant to get an IUD fitted, I really had. I knew there was a five-day window after unprotected sex where a trip to the doctor’s to get a coil fitted would see you
right. I’d looked it up on the internet. Should have been easy.

But we’d been so unbelievably busy at the nursery, and there’d been Melody and Liv to deal with, the time had somehow just slipped away. I’d crossed my fingers very tight,
hoped that would be enough. And here I was, my period two weeks late, with no idea what to do.

When the realisation first poked its way into my mind like a little poisonous seedling, my first reaction was denial. This was my life, and pregnancy couldn’t happen to me. Upheaval on
that scale only happened to others. I was too young. My body wasn’t coordinated enough to have managed a proper grown-up conception. Mother Nature would never allow a child to land in the lap
of someone so unprepared. I could not be having a baby.

But as the days ticked on, the idea became more real and I was forced to consider some of the things it might mean. I saw myself waddling up the high street, conspicuously huge, while people I
knew from school sniggered and whispered behind my back. I imagined the disappointed face of old Mrs Noble, ex-babysitter from my childhood, who used to save me jam jars so I could make beetle
traps. Nicky desperately, painfully encouraging while her mother tutted in the background. Geraint putting on his special Welsh glower on account of my bringing trouble to the house.