Nearest Thing to Crazy (31 page)

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Cassandra, you’re really sounding quite unhinged . . .’ But her voice sounded weak and shrill, like a frightened little girl. A little girl who deep down wanted to be mothered. Who, a great deal of my life, had expected me to be the one to do it.

‘And tell me something else, this life story of yours, this person who’s been coming to see you to take down your life story –’

‘What about it?’

‘Is it a woman, a red-haired woman?’

‘Why?’

‘And you’ve told her all about everything . . . about me . . . and Dad . . . about Laura?’

‘It’s none of your business. You’ve no right to know. It’s my story.’

All the pieces were coming together. That explained why Ellie knew so much about me, even my childhood and my mother’s funny expressions. My
mother
. ‘Congratulations. You can’t have the faintest idea just how successful you’ve been this time. Well done, Mother. Mother! If only you knew the meaning of the word!’

‘Cassandra . . . !’

I’d held back from telling her how I felt, maybe from telling myself how I felt, for so long that I wasn’t about to stop now. ‘If only you could love like a mother should. Mothers are supposed to protect and nurture their children, not punish and destroy. Ironic isn’t it, when you think about it, how you are a so-called natural mother, and I’m not. Just goes to show what an ambiguous word mother really is. I don’t suppose you can understand what I’m talking about, can you? But it wasn’t enough for you to be a rotten mother to me, you also wanted to make sure that I couldn’t be a complete mother to Laura.’

All the colour had drained from her face. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly and then she choked the words out: ‘Cassandra . . . I think you should leave . . . get out of here . . .’

‘Don’t worry. I’m leaving. Goodbye, Mother!’ I took one last look at her, hoping that I would never set eyes on her again.

I ran down the stairs and then paused outside Matron’s office. ‘I don’t know when or if I’ll be in again. So I’m sorry but I’m going to have to pass up the garden class.’

She opened her mouth to reply but I didn’t hang around long enough to hear what she wanted to say. Okay, so Ellie hadn’t got all the details right in her revolting book, but she had enough to let me know that she was writing about my life and my mother.

On the way home my mobile rang. I saw that it was Laura. I pulled to the roadside. How was I supposed to react to her now that I knew she was aware of the circumstances of her conception? But, I reminded myself, she’d known for nearly three years and I’d only found
that
out a few moments ago. What I didn’t know was whether she knew about
who
Ellie really was.

‘Laura, darling,’ I said.

‘Mum! Mum, guess what? I’m just so excited. I couldn’t wait to tell you. Ellie’s just phoned me. She’s sorted out some work experience, on
Mode
magazine. Two weeks in December. And, can you believe it, she says I can stay in her flat while I do it? God, how lucky am I? Mum? Mum . . . are you still there?’ She didn’t know about Ellie. Thank God. She wouldn’t be talking about her like that if she knew.

‘When in December?’ The net was closing in. I wondered where we would all be by then. Would Laura have found out who Ellie really was? Would Dan and Ellie be forming part of that perfect unit?

‘The first two weeks. I can’t believe how kind she’s being to me. Isn’t that great?’

I didn’t reply.

‘I can go and shadow the fashion editor, providing I don’t get in anyone’s way, try and be helpful. God, I’ll have to think about what to wear.’

‘Yes, I suppose you will.’

‘Mum . . . you don’t sound that excited.’

‘Laura . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘You know I love you, don’t you? That I love you very, very much.’

‘’Course I do. But how lucky am I? I’ve called Dad and he was over the moon for me. He can’t wait to thank Ellie. So if you see her, will you say just how excited I am? Oh, I know it’s only work experience, and it’s only a couple of weeks, but Mum . . .
Mode
. . . God, I can’t believe it. I’m going out with some mates to celebrate. But I’ll be home at the weekend. It’s the quiz, and Ellie said she hoped she’d see me there. Save a place for me somewhere, won’t you Mum? Love you . . .’

And she was gone.

When Dan got home I had to try and disguise the fact that I felt so weak and shaky. I wanted to run away from myself, to turn off all the lights and lock and bar the door of my head to keep myself out. If I could just go away somewhere, find some dark hole to crawl into and curl up into a tight little ball I might feel better, or safer. I just didn’t know what to do with myself. Eventually I pleaded illness. I think I muttered something like ‘. . . must have eaten something’. But I wasn’t so ill that I couldn’t keep refilling my wine glass. I’d have to slow down, otherwise I might end up doing or saying something I’d regret.

When Nick Gale telephoned to ask Dan to help him shift some furniture, ready for the quiz on Saturday, it was hard to reconcile the fact that normal life was still carrying on out there, that people were just getting on with the minutiae of daily life.

Dan sounded relaxed and jokey, just like normal Dan. If only I could have screamed at him, ‘We’re not normal. Nothing’s normal anymore. Don’t you see what’s happening . . . what
she’s
doing?’

Over supper he said, ‘You haven’t touched your food. Stomach still bad?’

‘Yeah. But I’ve taken some paracetamol,’ I lied, and then, with wine-fuelled bravado, I said, ‘I’ve been feeling so tired these last few days. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. It’s almost as if I’ve been drugged . . .’ I met his eyes, held his gaze.

His eyes didn’t flicker. ‘You look a bit peaky. Really pale.’

‘Do I?’ Peaky – that was almost funny.

‘Did Laura tell you her good news?’

‘Yes, she did. Dan, we need to talk. There’s something I need to tell you.’

He pushed his plate away. ‘Is it about Ellie again?’

‘Yes.’

He held his hands up. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’

‘You need to listen to me. This is important, Dan. Very important. You know she’s in London with Amelia? Well, she called me today, asking me to go round to her house, to get a telephone number for her. So I did. And her manuscript was sitting on her desk. It’s about us. It’s about Laura. It’s about you and her. Everything is there . . . even my father . . .’

I was finding it increasingly difficult to read Dan, but I think I saw, just fleetingly, an expression of sheer terror on his face. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘She wrote about your lunch the other day, Dan. She wrote about what happened afterwards.’

‘Nothing happened afterwards. What do you mean?’

‘According to her manuscript you met up with her and nearly fucked her under a bridge.’

‘What? That’s ridiculous. She said that I . . . ? Oh come off it.’

‘Is it true?’

‘Are you serious? Of course it’s not bloody true. Come on, Cass. As if . . . under a bridge? I mean
anywhere
, for that matter. This is potty. Laughable. But maybe that’s just the way she writes her novel. Perhaps I should be flattered. Anyway, how do you know it’s supposed to be me? Does it say “Dan Burton”?’

‘No. You’re called Tim.’

‘So it’s not me, then. It’s some bloke called Tim.’

‘Did you talk about Laura’s essay and degree classification over lunch?’

‘I can’t remember, maybe. Why?’

‘Because it’s all there, in her story. And do you know what else is there?’

‘Nope. No idea. Obviously . . .’

‘Stuff she’s learned from my mother. She’s been interviewing her at the care home, pretending to be one of those companies that record your memory. I mean, can you believe it? Actually going in there, pretending to be someone else, getting all the information from Mum. It’s just bloody unbelievable. But you know what? Do you know what’s worse . . . even worse than you having an affair with her? Drugging me at night so that you can go and meet her or whatever it is you’re supposed to do . . .’

‘Oh come on, she didn’t put that, did she?’

‘Yes, she did. She put that. I know it’s hard to believe, but it gets worse. By God it gets worse. My mother told Laura about the donor egg.’

‘Oh Cass!’

‘When she was eighteen. I should have guessed. You know what she’s like, what she can be like. Probably annoyed with me over something, thought she’d get her own back. Well she really, really has this time.’

‘But what’s this got to do with Ellie?’

‘According to her bloody manuscript, she is Laura’s biological mother. It was her egg. You and Ellie made a baby together and she’s so bloody unhinged that she thinks the three of you are going to become one lovely perfect little family unit, while for me . . . well God only knows what she’s got in store for me. The loony bin, or worse!’

Dan was shaking his head. He pushed out his chair and stood up.
‘I’m lost. Sorry Cass, but I can’t take this in. Let me get this straight. Your mother told Laura, and somehow . . . somehow . . . coincidentally Ellie lands up here . . .’

‘No, not coincidentally. According to the book, Laura wrote to Ellie through the donor register – God, I don’t really understand the details myself. But anyway . . . Ellie got the letter and Laura said she didn’t want to meet her, but Ellie decided to track her down, move in on us all so that she could steal you both. Don’t you see? This explains everything.’

‘It’s all bonkers. And if Laura knows, then why hasn’t Laura said something? She’s said nothing to me or to you. And yet you say she’s known since she was eighteen. Sorry, but it just doesn’t add up. Are you sure, Cass? Are you sure you haven’t just had some really weird and wacky dream? Something caused by those new drugs of yours? I mean, they do say they can do funny things to you, don’t they? Are you sure you’re not imagining all of this?’

‘I’ll take you round there. Right now. I know where the key is. I’ll show you the manuscript and you can read it for yourself. She’s not back from London ’til tomorrow.’ I stood up. ‘Come on . . . are you coming? Let’s go.’

‘No. Absolutely not. Of course not. That would be breaking and entry . . .’

‘Not with a key.’

‘Well we wouldn’t be supposed to be there, would we? We’d be burgling her, effectively.’

‘Not if we don’t take anything. And anyway, forget all that. Surely the point is that she’s doing some pretty dreadful stuff to us . . . especially to me. And you’re worried about the fact that we might get caught in her house? Well frankly, I don’t give a toss whether she knows or not. She
deserves
to bloody well know.’

‘Okay okay, calm down, Cass. Please. Let’s think about this. So you’re saying that Ellie is really Laura’s mother, the egg donor.’
‘God, Dan, I know this is difficult, but how many more times . . .’

‘I think you’ve flipped.’

‘Yes, I know you think that. That’s what she wants everyone to think. That’s all anyone keeps telling me, that they’re “worried about me”. I bet she’s been feeding you stuff – do you know, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she’s been making things up about me. And do you know what else I think? I think she comes into our house and moves things. I think she’s had our keys copied and comes in when we’re not here. When things go missing I reckon it’s her. I think she murdered the hen and left her body in the shed to rot. Don’t you think it was weird the way I found her, underneath a sheet of old plastic? Like the hen could have covered herself over before she died – I don’t think so, do you?

‘She wanted me to read that manuscript, you know. She did. That’s why she left it there, sitting on her desk so that I’d see it. That’s why she asked me to go round there and get that telephone number for her. Dan, you’ve got to see. She’s fucking mental.’

‘Cass –’

‘Don’t, Dan. For God’s sake don’t say you don’t believe me. On my life . . . Laura’s life . . . your life . . . I swear to you that what I am telling you is the truth. And you can see for yourself.’

‘Look. I’m not going round there and that’s that. But I’ll talk to her.’

‘Talk to her?’

‘Yes. Tomorrow. I’ll talk to her when she’s back from London.
And find out what the hell has been going on.’

‘She’ll deny it. She’ll say it’s me that’s mad.’

‘Well we’ll see what she says. Now it seems to me the most important consideration at the moment is Laura, and if it’s true what your mother says, that she learned the truth when she was eighteen – nearly three years ago – then we need to get that sorted out, don’t we?’

‘Oh my God, this is all just too awful. I can’t believe what’s happening to us.’

‘You should have told her, Cass. You should have told her before, when she was younger. Like everyone advised.’

‘Everyone! What do they know? The books, the recommendations. We’re not everyone. I wanted her to love me as her own mother. It’s all right for you, but for me. God, Dan, I’m not even related to her.’

‘You carried her in your womb. Without you she wouldn’t be here, would she? It wouldn’t have mattered to her. The fact is that she was wanted, really wanted. And she knows how much you love her, what a good mother you’ve been.’