Lottie draws in a big breath and lets it out slowly.
Then she smiles triumphantly from me to Clemmy and back again.
‘Her name, girls, was Sylvia.’
Shock clutches at my heart and I stare at Lottie in a daze.
Clemmy gives a little gasp and turns to me. ‘The Sylvia who owns the Starlight Hotel?’ She swings back to Lottie. ‘Is it that Sylvia?’
Lottie nods. ‘She only worked for the Watsons for a short while – probably no more than a few months. That’s why I’d forgotten all about it until you asked me about Maple Tree House. I’ve been debating whether to tell you, but in the end, I thought you needed to know.’
She carries on talking but I’m barely aware of what she’s saying. I feel as if I’m swimming underwater. It’s a very weird sensation. Lottie and Clemmy are talking but the sounds aren’t penetrating through to me properly.
Clemmy puts her hand on my back and turns to say something. Her face looms in front of me and I find myself trying to lip-read but being completely unable to understand what she’s saying.
I scrape back my chair as the churning in my stomach gets worse. ‘Sorry, can I use your loo?’
Clemmy gets up quickly and leads me to the downstairs toilet. Inside, I lock the door and stand in front of the mirror, leaning on the washbasin, staring at my reflection in the mirror until it blurs.
Could Sylvia be my biological mother? Did she leave her job as housekeeper at the Watsons’ after such a short time because she found herself pregnant?
I run the tap and splash some water on my face. Then I take a few deep breaths and, thankfully, the nausea that had gripped me begins to subside.
I examine my face, looking for traces of a resemblance to Sylvia. There’s something about the eyes that might be familiar, although I’ve no idea what colour hers are. And I think Sylvia has the same pronounced bow-shaped upper lip as me.
Still stunned, I’ve no idea how I feel about this sudden turn of events. Should I be ecstatic? Excited? Or worried in case it all ends badly? Is Lottie even right about Sylvia being the Watsons’ housekeeper?
Someone knocks softly on the door. ‘Are you okay in there, Daisy?’
Clemmy.
‘Fine. I’ll be out in a minute.’ I force myself to speak, although my voice sounds strange.
‘Okay.’ There’s a pause. ‘See you in the kitchen.’
Pressing my hands to my burning cheeks, I stare at myself in the mirror one last time, wishing Mum hadn’t died because then I wouldn’t have had to go through all this emotional chaos.
But that’s just pointless. This is the reality. I must face it.
When I enter the kitchen, Lottie has gone. Clemmy gets up from the table. ‘I think we should go and see Sylvia,’ she murmurs, looking at me anxiously.
‘Now?’ I stare at her in horror. Is she mad?
She shrugs. ‘You’re never going to be able to sleep until you know the truth,’ she points out gently. ‘Are you?’
I shake my head as my throat clogs with tears. Clemmy’s right, of course. There’s no point in putting it off. I need to know …
It’s still light when we emerge into the balmy night air, the sun a big glowing red ball on the horizon. I glance at my watch. Nine-thirty. What will Sylvia be doing now?
Silently, we get into Clemmy’s car and drive along to the hotel. She parks outside and we walk into reception. My heart is in my mouth as Clemmy asks to speak to Sylvia.
‘Can I help, Madam?’ asks the receptionist with a bright smile, and I almost laugh. The question we’re going to be asking has the potential to be rather more life-changing than whether or not there are any rooms available for tonight!
‘No, we really need to talk to Sylvia if possible,’ Clemmy says. ‘It’s personal.’
The receptionist frowns, thinking. ‘She’s in the restaurant, I think. Wait one moment.’
My heart hammers as she starts speaking on the phone. ‘Sylvia? Yes, there are two ladies waiting for you in reception. They say it’s a personal matter.’ She nods then asks for our names. ‘Clemmy and Daisy?’ After a brief instruction from the other end, she says, ‘Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll tell them.’
She puts the phone down and says, ‘I’m so sorry but Sylvia’s busy right now. She won’t be able to see you tonight.’
‘Oh.’ Clemmy looks at me with a frown. ‘But it’s important. Can we make an appointment to see her tomorrow morning?’
‘I’m afraid not. She’s going away to a conference and is leaving first thing in the morning.’
My heart is beating very fast. ‘But I need to talk to her. Tonight.’ There’s an edge of desperation in my voice. Tears of frustration are pricking at my eyes. I’ve come this far and now to be denied the chance to talk to her …
The receptionist is apologetic but firm. ‘Why not leave your number and she’ll call you when she’s back?’
She’s in the restaurant. I need to see her now, otherwise I’ll never have any peace …
Clemmy shouts after me as I walk quickly away.
As I approach the restaurant, I see Sylvia slipping out and walking briskly up the nearest staircase.
‘Sylvia?’ I call, and she hesitates but doesn’t turn around. ‘Please. I need to talk to you.’
She draws in a breath and raises her head to the ceiling. Then she straightens her jacket and turns. Her face is in semi-darkness as she looks down at me. I can’t see her expression very clearly.
‘I’m busy, Daisy. I can’t talk now.’
She turns to go and it suddenly occurs to me that perhaps she really is just busy.
‘Sylvia?’ Perhaps she has no idea why I’m here! ‘Do you know who I am?’
Slowly, she turns to face me. ‘Yes. I know who you are,’ she says in a voice weirdly devoid of emotion.
My stomach drops to the floor.
I stand there in a daze, watching Sylvia walk away from me up the stairs, holding herself stiffly upright.
I finally find my voice.
‘Sylvia? Please! We have to talk about this.’
But she carries on climbing the stairs. So in desperation, I run after her, my heart in my mouth.
‘Sylvia. For God’s sake. You’re my birth mother. You have to talk to me! You gave me up for adoption. Don’t you think I at least have a right to some answers?’
She hesitates and I wait, holding my breath.
But when she turns to me, her face is as unyielding as stone, her eyes as cold as a day in mid-winter.
‘I have nothing to say to you, Daisy. What’s done is done. I can’t change the past and I have no desire to.’
She turns away but I grab her arm and she flinches as if I’ve struck her. Her whole body is trembling, I realise.
She looks back at me, her eyes huge and haunted, and a single tear tracks its way down her cheek. But she brushes it away roughly and runs up the stairs, away from me.
‘I can’t believe you won’t at least talk to me,’ I shout, but she’s gone.
I feel Clemmy’s arm around me and I crumple, the tears flowing freely down my face. My heart feels as if it might break in two.
The irony of the situation pierces me like a blade.
I’ve finally found my birth mother – only to be rejected by her all over again …
‘Perhaps now isn’t the right time?’ murmurs Clemmy.
I shake my head. ‘There’ll clearly never be a right time. She’s made that very plain.’
Clemmy sighs. ‘You don’t know that.’
‘Yes, I do. It’s obvious she knows why I’m here and she’s just made it abundantly clear that she doesn’t want to know me.’ Feeling unsteady on my feet, I walk back through reception and head for the door.
I should never have come to this place. It was a stupid idea, thinking I could track down my real mother and everything would be happy-ever-after.
Actually, I never did think that. I was always worried it would end in disaster. And I was right!
Why the hell didn’t I listen to my instincts and leave well alone?