‘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.
‘Jean said that you … were medicated, that you don’t remember anything at all?’
I shook my head.
‘Your mother, your real mother, I mean, she … died.’
‘What did she die of?’
‘She was kidnapped by a man, when she was young, when she was … a child.’
I had seen films and dramas about men who kidnapped young women.
‘Did he lock her in a cellar?’
‘Yes, well, no, it was an extension at the back of his house. He lived in a large house on a half-acre of land in South Dublin. He kept her there for fourteen years.’
My head started to buzz. ‘Stop talking, please.’
She stroked my hand.
I turned away to refill the teapot. I picked up a sandwich and ate it. Aunt Christine sat silently.
‘Would you like one?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Would you like a sandwich?’
‘No. Darling, I’m so sorry. It’s a terrible story. Is there a friend I can call? What about Angela?’
‘Yes, I’ll call her.’
I picked up the phone. Angela didn’t work at weekends so I thought I wouldn’t be disturbing her.
‘Angela? My Aunt Christine is here. She told me that my real mother was kidnapped –’
‘Fuck.’
‘What?’
‘I wanted to be with you when you opened the last letter from your dad. It explains everything … well, most things. May I speak to Christine?’
Aunt Christine took the phone out to the hall. I couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying but I could hear her voice getting high-pitched. And then I heard her hang up the phone. When she returned to the kitchen table, her eyes were wet with tears.
‘Sally, I’m afraid I’ve made a mess of this. Angela is on her way. Let’s talk about other things until she gets here.’
‘Do you think she loved me? My real mother.’
She picked up a sandwich. ‘Oh, I think she loved you with all her heart.’
‘How do you know?’
‘These sandwiches are delicious. Let’s wait for Angela, will we? Shall I make more sandwiches for her?’
‘I’ll make them. It’s lucky that Toby doesn’t eat, otherwise we’d run out of bread.’
‘What age are you now, Sally?’
‘Forty-three. What age are you?’
‘Sixty-seven.’
‘Did my real mum get married?’
‘No … let’s wait for Angela.’
‘Okay. Do you want to hold Toby?’
She hadn’t seen him properly and I wanted to show him off.
‘Goodness, he is a little battered, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, he’s getting in the bath with me tonight.’
‘Oh, that might not be a good idea, to immerse him. It could destroy him. He’s old. Shall we try to give him a scrub now? A gentle one, while we wait for Angela?’
Aunt Christine filled the washing-up basin with sudsy water and used a nail brush with light strokes while I held out Toby’s arms and legs. The water swirled with brown foam.
‘I wonder where he’s been?’ she said.
‘I don’t know. He came in the post yesterday with that note, signed “S”， but I knew at once that he was mine, and that his name was Toby. But I don’t know where I got him. Maybe Mum gave him to me, but I don’t remember, and my memory is normally excellent.’
‘“S”？’ she said, and I moved over to find the note again.
‘Do you know who “S” is?’
Aunt Christine almost dropped Toby into the water, and I caught him just in time.
‘Oh God, we shouldn’t have touched him, or washed him!’
‘Why? He was dirty. He needed it.’ I took over the gentle washing now, rubbing his little face and his soft brown snout with a J-Cloth. Aunt Christine began to pace the room, wringing her hands together.
When the doorbell rang again, Aunt Christine leapt up to answer it. I could hear them whispering in the hallway as Angela embraced her. How easily they seemed to hug one another, even though it must have been years since they’d met.
Angela strode into the room. ‘Sally, I think you shouldn’t touch that bear.’
‘Why?’
‘Put it down, please.’ Her voice was firm.
‘He’s mine. His name is Toby.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I don’t know how. I just do. I love him.’
I startled myself with the strength of my words. I had a strong need to protect this toy and to keep him close. I could see Angela was surprised.
‘You shouldn’t have touched it.’ She looked at the scrubbed bear. ‘I think it’s too late now. He’s been handled and washed.’
Aunt Christine’s voice went high. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know until after we started washing it. I haven’t seen Sally in over twenty years. I thought it was hers.’
I began to feel anxious. ‘He is mine. I can … feel it. I’m keeping him.’ I clutched his damp body to mine and felt the wetness on my chest.
‘It may be evidence,’ said Angela. ‘Do you have the wrapping paper it came in?’
‘I don’t understand!’ I shrieked. ‘You’re not making sense.’ I felt utterly lost and the buzzing in my head had not stopped. I began to pull at my hair, as Angela softly asked me how and when he was delivered. ‘May I put my arm around you, Sally?’ I nodded, and it felt warm and natural to have an arm around my shoulders as I held Toby tight. We stayed like that for a little while until my anger subsided.
‘We should go into the sitting room and relax a bit. It’s been a shock, and we have more information for you,’ said Aunt Christine.
‘First, I need the wrapping paper,’ said Angela.
‘There was a box as well,’ I said.
I found the box and the paper. ‘The stamps on this are from New Zealand. Express post,’ said Angela ‘The box comes from a shoe shop. The guards will finally have a lead.’
‘What are you talking about?’