‘Dot,’ I say, my voice a croak. ‘Hello, Dot. It’s Mabel. Mabel Beaumont.’
She is quiet for so long that I think something must have happened to the line, or that she’s cut me off. I take the telephone away from my ear and look at it, but it’s still connected, the seconds timing the call still ticking past.
‘Mabel,’ she says, clear as a bell. ‘Our Charles said I might be hearing from you. It’s been a while.’
A while. I close my eyes and see the years flash past me. My wedding, my parents’ deaths, house moves. Day after day after day at work in various typing pools and offices, holidays in Wales and Cornwall and, once or twice, France. Day trips and walks in the woods and sitting in this room with Arthur, our books on our laps and mugs of tea steaming on the coffee table.
‘It has,’ I say. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
‘What, for all these years?’
She is teasing, like she always did, and I splutter a laugh.
‘No, no, not for years. For a few months. Since Arthur died.’
There’s a sharp intake of breath. ‘You and Arthur, you were together all this time, until a few months ago?’
I nod, before remembering she can’t see me. ‘That’s right,’ I say.
‘Well, now you’ve found me, Mabel. Shall we see each other in the flesh?’
It’s then that I think hearing her voice would have been enough, if that’s all that was on offer. The sweet cadence of it, the lilt. The fun that’s caught in between the words, the promise of mischief. But that’s not all, because she’s talking about meeting up, and I want that more than anything.
‘Let’s,’ I say. ‘Just name the day, Dot. I’ll come to you.’
39
We all go in the end. Erin wanted to come but doesn’t have a car, so Julie offered to drive, but then two days ago her car broke down in the middle of a roundabout in Overbury and needs new brake pads. Julie said she was just pleased she didn’t go through the windscreen when the brakes failed her, which we all agreed was a blessing. So then we talked to Patty, and she said she felt like she wanted to be a part of it, since she’d been with us on the trip to London, but that she’d never fit us all in her Fiat 500. That’s when Kirsty stepped in. She drives a huge people carrier thing, more van than car, and it’s that we’re all strapped into, excited chatter buzzing.
I’m not part of it. I feel sick. I’ve got Dotty in her car seat next to me and Kirsty keeps making cooing noises any time she seems like she’s about to cry. I offer her a finger at one point, and she takes it, grabs it tight. It gets a bit uncomfortable after a while, the way my wrist is bent, but I daren’t pull it back in case it sets her off. I’m terrified of Kirsty changing her mind, deciding it’s too much. So I wriggle my finger around a bit, get settled.
Erin’s in the passenger seat, and I can hear her telling Kirsty about these tickets she’s buying for her and Hannah to see Fleetwood Mac, and I idly wonder if it’s the Fleetwood Mac I’ve heard of or something different altogether. Kirsty’s making excited squealing sounds but breaking off every so often to listen to the satellite navigation system. Julie’s on my other side, but she’s got her neck craned and is talking to Patty, on her own in the back row, about Harry, the man from her dancing class who Patty’s recently started going out with. Or seeing, or whatever it is you say.
We’ve been driving for about twenty minutes when an almighty stench arises from somewhere.
‘What in god’s name is that?’ I ask, pulling my finger from Dotty to hold my nose.
She starts screaming, then.
‘I think she needs a change, Kirsty love,’ Julie says.
There are services up ahead so Kirsty pulls off and we park and I pace around a bit while Julie helps Kirsty get the baby sorted.
‘How are you feeling?’ It’s Patty, and her face is a picture of concern.
I stop walking. I know there’s no colour in my face. Kirsty put a bit of makeup on me for this, but I suspect if I looked in a mirror now, I’d see a clown staring back at me. What will Dot think?
‘What if none of it was as important to her as it was to me?’ I ask.
Patty reaches across and takes hold of both of my hands. ‘If that’s the case, we’ll deal with it. But remember, you’re the one who got married.’
They all know the full story, now. I think about what she’s saying. It’s true. I got married. Dot might have thought that meant I saw what happened between us as a mistake. God, what if she’s gone through her life thinking that?
‘I couldn’t see another way,’ I say.
‘I know,’ Patty says. ‘I know.’
She doesn’t let go of my hands, and we stand there like that until Julie calls out that we’re ready to hit the road again.
‘Have you ever been in love?’ I ask, as we walk back over to the car.
Patty sighs. ‘Only with Sarah’s dad.’
We’re in earshot of the others now and Julie gives Patty a nudge as she climbs in past her.
‘Are you ready to tell us who he is yet?’
‘I think I know,’ I say.
They all turn to me.
‘Do you?’ Patty asks. ‘Go for it.’
I nod. ‘It’s Michael Silver, isn’t it?’
There’s a collective gasp and it frightens Dotty, who starts to wail. I give her my finger to hold again.
‘How did you know?’ Patty asks.
Julie looks like she’s about to explode. ‘Michael bloody Silver! I thought he was one of the good guys.’
‘I’ve seen the way you react when he’s on television,’ I say. ‘And he’s the right sort of age, plus Sarah has those gorgeous blue eyes. I just put it together.’
‘That’s my big secret,’ Patty says. ‘I fell in love with Michael Silver, and he was married, and didn’t want to have anything to do with our child.’
Her voice doesn’t shake, but a look crosses her face, and I think that you probably never get over something like that.
‘And he’s never once met her?’ Julie checks, shaking her head.
‘Never once.’
We’re quiet after that. What is there to say? I spend the next few miles watching the fields and trees rush by outside the window, thinking that there are worse things than not getting to spend your life with the person you love because of circumstances and society. What Patty suffered is worse. Indifference. Is that what I could be faced with today? But no, I play back our telephone call in my head, as I’ve done over and over, mostly in the early hours of the morning. If she was indifferent, she would have said she wasn’t interested in seeing me, wouldn’t she? Her tone was playful, fun. She sounded happy to hear from me.
It seems like hardly any time has passed when Kirsty pulls up on an ordinary residential street and says, ‘I think this is it.’
It’s unbelievable, how close she’s been. I peer out of the window at Dot’s house. It looks like it was built in the 1930s, and the lawn at the front is small and neat.
‘Do you want to go alone?’ Julie asks. ‘Or do you want one of us to come with you?’