I frown. ‘What do you mean?’
She puts her knife down and carries the bowl of chopped carrots to a pan sitting on the hob of the Aga. ‘Kathryn was eleven years old when Elspeth adopted her.’
‘Adopted? Kathryn’s adopted?’ I wasn’t expecting that. I think back to their interactions – Elspeth is very dismissive, almost cold towards Kathryn at times. Is that why? Or would she be the same even if Kathryn was her biological child?
‘Oh, yes,’ says Aggie. ‘Elspeth couldn’t have any more children after Viola. So when Viola was thirteen she and Huw adopted Kathryn. I’m not saying it was Kathryn’s fault that Viola left. I’m fond of that girl. Woman now, of course. And, my goodness, she had a lot to contend with growing up. But it was only natural that Viola would feel pushed out.’
I hand Aggie the plate of onions for her to add to the pan. ‘Imagine not knowing where your own child is. She’d be – what? Late forties now?’
‘Nearly fifty. Elspeth has heard nothing from her in all these years. She doesn’t even know if she’s alive or dead.’ She shakes her head. ‘A sorry state of affairs.’
‘Did Elspeth ever look for her?’
‘I think so. At the beginning. But it was like Viola disappeared off the face of the earth. She didn’t want to be found.’
The faces of Matilde and Jemima swirl in my mind. Did Viola really run away or is she dead too?
11
The Cuckoo, July 1983
As the big orange car she was travelling in hurtled down the M4, Katy felt she might be sick with nerves. Her social worker, Fiona, sat rigid and upright next to her in a hot-pink short-sleeved blouse, her hands firmly in the ten-to-two position on the steering wheel, every now and again turning to flash her a reassuring smile as they sped towards Bristol. It was stifling in the car, despite the windows being wound down and the fan on full. Katy had been allowed to sit in the front because of her travel sickness. She preferred it at the front: it was easier to see out. The sky was a clear blue with a few streaky clouds in the distance, and the sun beat down, glinting off the bonnet. Fiona had the radio on, low so as not to distract her too much while driving apparently, and ‘Club Tropicana’ was playing. Katy liked the song. It made her feel happy. She took it as a good sign.
The lush green countryside sped past her window until they turned onto another road, smaller this time, and the fields of sheep and cows fell away to be replaced with glassy buildings, ugly concrete car parks and shops. Her new family lived in a place called Clifton. She liked the way it sounded on her tongue, sharp and precise. She hadn’t been to see her house yet. Her new mum and dad, Elspeth and Huw McKenzie, had visited the children’s home in Gloucester and taken her out for tea a few times at the local hotel. She liked them, although they seemed a bit posh. When she was with them she felt as though she needed to be extra polite. But, still, she was excited even when Tommy Evans, an irritating eight-year-old that the grown-ups seemed to find cute, returned after living with the McKenzies for a week saying they were stuck up and he couldn’t do anything right. She’d heard rumours that he’d been kicked out because he was naughty and the McKenzies couldn’t cope with him. She’d never found out exactly what he’d done, but Fiona told her they felt a girl would suit their family better. And it seemed that the girl they wanted to adopt was her. She would no longer be plain old Katy Collins, but Katy McKenzie. She’d have a new sister, too. A girl with a name that sounded a little like ‘violin’。 Katy always wished she’d learnt to play the violin but the home didn’t allow it because lessons were too expensive. Fiona was very excited about this ‘match’， as she called it. After the initial interview she’d said something about how ‘affluent’ they were. Katy didn’t know what the word meant, but from the way Fiona’s freckled face broke into a huge grin when she said it, she knew it must mean something good.
They drove a bit further through what Fiona called the city centre, past a theatre with ‘Hippodrome’ written across it in big bright letters, up a hill and then a long road where everything started to look prettier with more trees and bigger houses.
‘Look over there,’ said Fiona, pointing at a long bridge that crossed what looked like two cliffs. ‘That’s the suspension bridge. It’s famous, and at night it’s all lit up. You’ll be able to see it every night from your new house.’ And then she pulled up in front of one of the grandest houses Katy had ever seen. It was the colour of candyfloss and had a balcony on the third floor with a black-and-white-striped awning stretched over it that reminded her of humbug sweets.