Strange Sally Diamond(18)

I stood up and stumbled to my bedroom, feeling dizzy but in a good way. I got ready for bed without letting go of Toby. I talked to him, explaining what I was doing, welcoming him to his new home. I hoped he’d be happy here. I imagined his answers. I wrapped my arms around him and felt so light-headed that I don’t know whether I fainted or drifted off to sleep.

I had dreams that night, vivid, of a thin woman with long hair. I was sitting on her lap. This was strange because I never sat on anyone’s lap. It was also strange because I’d never had a dream before.

The next day, I rang my aunt, Christine.

‘Oh, my darling,’ she said, ‘it is so good to hear from you, we have been so worried about you.’

‘Do you still have that red coat?’ I asked.

‘What? Oh … that was such a long time ago. I’m delighted you remember. It must be twenty years since I saw you.’

‘You looked like a film star. I loved that coat. Aunt Christine, do you remember anything that happened to you before you were seven years old?’

There was a pause.

‘Well, yes, I have a few memories – getting an ice-cream cone from my dad, your grandfather –’

‘What age were you?’

‘Maybe three or four?’

‘I thought people’s memories only started when they were seven?’

‘Well, it’s different for everyone.’

‘I think something bad happened to me when I was younger than that.’

There was another pause.

‘Sally, may I come and visit you?’

‘Why?’

‘I think it would be best if I could speak to you face to face.’

I warmed up at the thought of seeing her again.

‘I could be there by lunchtime today?’

‘Will you want lunch?’

‘No, a cup of tea –’

‘I can make ham sandwiches.’

‘That would be lovely.’

‘Don’t bring Donald, okay?’

‘Well, fine, he’s recovering from an operation, but why don’t you want to see him?’

‘Dad said he was a lazy oaf who married you for your money.’

She laughed.

‘Why are you laughing?’

‘Your dad. Talk about projecting …’

‘I don’t understand. I don’t like it when people laugh at me.’

‘Goodness, I’m not laughing at you. Look, don’t worry, I won’t bring Donald.’

I hung up shortly after we had done the goodbye thing that annoys me: ‘Goodbye,’ ‘Bye,’ ‘Goodbye,’ ‘See you later,’ ‘Yes, goodbye,’ ‘Bye, then.’ So tedious.

Two hours later, I went to the kitchen to make the sandwiches. I had fashioned a sling out of an old scarf of Dad’s to carry Toby as close to my heart as I could. I told him about our expected visitor. I asked him again who ‘S’ was. I didn’t expect an answer, but it was nice to talk to him. I didn’t feel alone.

When I answered the door, Aunt Christine was there, carrying a large bouquet of flowers.

‘Darling! Oh my, it’s been too long. You are so tall! And beautiful!’

Aunt Christine used to look like a stylish version of my mum. But now, she was disappointingly old. I nearly said it. The skin around her face had all fallen downwards, though her eyes were bright with golden eyeshadow and spiky lashes. That made sense. Mum was dead so long. I felt comfortable with her until she reached out to touch me and I backed away. ‘Sorry!’ she said, putting her hands in the air as if she were under arrest. ‘You used to let me hold your hand, you know.’ This was true, but I was out of practice.

We went to the kitchen and I turned on the kettle and set about making tea. I watched her. She looked at me and smiled. ‘How are you? I see you don’t have any decorations up?’

‘No, Dad and I agreed they were for children.’ Aunt Christine frowned.

‘I got all these letters,’ I said. ‘Some people want to be my friend. Some people hate me. They wrote that I was a spawn of the devil.’

‘May I see?’

I showed her the assorted mail.

‘Well, these can go straight into the bin,’ she said, lifting the nasty notes and the letters from journalists. I agreed. I didn’t want to keep any of them, except the letter from Stella, my classmate, and the note from ‘S’.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m fine. Dad said I should move into the village. He says it’s unhealthy for me to live here on my own.’

‘Aren’t you lonely here?’

‘I’ve got Toby,’ I said, pointing to my bear.

‘Toby isn’t a person, darling.’

‘I know. I’m not stupid.’

She said nothing. We stared at each other. Her head was to one side and her eyes were soft.

‘What happened to me before I was adopted?’

She looked away then, out of the window, at the floor and then back at my face. She asked, ‘May I take your hand?’

‘What for?’

‘Touch can be comforting, you know. And it’s not a nice story.’

I let her take my hand and put it between hers.