i.
So the mother had lost her daughter. You did not expect it so soon but that is ok.
You will adapt. That is another of your skills: you recognize when things change and you change yourself accordingly. It’s like evolution. Adapt, or die. The difference is that evolution is dumb. Animals don’t know that they are adapting. They don’t see the changes in their environment. They don’t sense the world shifting around them. You do. You stand outside events and observe them. You see yourself and your place in the world, understand your role, what your strengths and weaknesses are, where your threats and opportunities lie. When something changes, you see how you need to change. You are not surprised by events.
You are a watcher. A waiter.
But you also act. When necessary, you act swiftly and decisively.
And the time is coming for action. For the final action.
ii.
Julia banged on the front door of Edna’s house. There was no doorbell: Edna thought they were vulgar, and vulgar was not what she wanted for her not-so-humble abode. The house was an old carriage house. Years back Edna and Jim had agreed to sell some of the land it sat on to a developer, who had put a large detached house on it. They made a killing from the sale; money which, recognizing even then that Brian was not going to become rich from his own efforts, they intended to use to fund their grandchildren’s educations. Now, with only one grandchild to pay for, Edna regretted it bitterly; she didn’t need the money and she hated having the new house visible from her garden. It wasn’t that it was ugly; far from it, the architect had done a fine job of fitting it sensitively into its surroundings, but that it reminded Edna both that she had made a mistake in selling the land and the reason it was a mistake was that her plans for Brian had failed.
‘Brian!’ Julia shouted. ‘Brian!’
She thumped on the door with the side of her fist.
‘Brian! Edna!’
The door opened. Brian was standing in a small vestibule. Behind him the door into the main house was closed.
‘Julia,’ Brian said. ‘Calm down. You were supposed to be coming tomorrow.’
‘Fuck you, Brian!’ Julia shouted. ‘I want Anna. I want my daughter!’
‘She’s better off here,’ Brian said. ‘It’s quieter. There’s no press. And like you said, whoever took her is still running around out there. This is the best place for her.’
‘The best place for her is with me.’
‘Julia, we have to be grown up about this. We have to do what’s best for our daughter. I know you’re upset but our feelings don’t come into it.’
‘You took her. You kidnapped her!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Bringing her to her grandmother’s house is hardly kidnapping. And even if it is, I think the fact I told you where she is rather disproves your theory.’
Julia could see what he was saying made sense; she also knew that, whether it made sense or not, it was just a convenient excuse for taking her daughter from her.
And she was not going to allow that. Rage narrowed her world to one thought: get Anna.
‘I want to come in. I want to see her.’
‘No. She’s sleeping. And she doesn’t need to see this.’
‘See what?’
‘Us fighting.’
‘Then stop fighting! I’ll come in and take her home quiet as a fucking mouse!’
‘Julia. You need to calm down. We have guests. Don’t make a scene. Mum’ll be embarrassed.’
Julia’s rage intensified. They had taken her daughter and she was supposed to be nice and polite and genteel because Edna had some fucking guests for Sunday lunch? And what the fuck was that anyway? In the midst of all this, Edna found time to have a nice dinner party? It was fucking typical.
‘You think I give a shit about upsetting your guests?’ she shouted. ‘I want to see Anna, and I want to see her now.’
She tried to dart past Brian to the inner door, but he put his right arm out and caught her around the waist.
‘Let me go!’ she shouted. ‘Get your fucking hands off me!’
She hated him at that moment, would have snapped his neck in two in the beat of a drum had she been able to. As it was, she lashed out with her right hand, her nails clawing at his cheek.
He shrieked, a high-pitched wail that infuriated her even more, and she shoved him as hard as she could. He lost his balance and fell against the tiled wall of the vestibule, his hand clutching his cheeks. She could see the red scratch above his fingers.
‘You’re a piece of shit,’ she said. ‘A worthless piece of—’
‘What on earth is going on here?’ Edna had opened the inner door and was standing there, arms folded. Behind her was a man of her age, dressed in the smart casual attire of the upper middle classes out to Sunday lunch at the home of a distinguished doctor.
‘Is everything ok?’ he said.
‘She scratched my face,’ Brian said. ‘She’s crazy.’
‘I think you need to leave,’ Edna said. ‘Now.’
‘I’m not going anywhere without my daughter,’ Julia said. ‘I’ll stand here all day and all night until you let me see her.’
Edna’s expression hardened. ‘Don’t make the mistake of threatening me, young lady,’ she said. ‘And especially not in my own home.’
She took a smart step forward and took hold of Julia’s elbow. Her grip was strong, and as she pushed, Julia pivoted towards the front door.
‘Out,’ Edna said. ‘Out you go.’
Julia twisted in her grip. ‘I’m not going,’ she said. ‘You can’t make me.’
‘Can’t I?’ Edna said. ‘We’ll see about that.’
She grabbed Julia’s other elbow and backed her over the threshold of the front door.
‘No,’ Julia shouted. ‘No! Get off me!’
She bucked violently and shoved her shoulder against Edna. Edna stumbled backwards into the door jamb, still holding onto her.
‘You let me see my daughter!’ Julia shouted. ‘Or I’ll claw your eyes out, you fucking bitch!’
She felt someone grab her arms and pin them to her sides. She looked up. Brian was on one side of her, the lunch guest on the other.
‘Should I call the police?’ the man said.
Edna stared at Julia. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t think so. I think Julia is about to leave.’
Julia felt the rage drain from her like air from an untied balloon. She didn’t reply.
‘Julia?’ Edna said. ‘Should Michael call the police? Or will you go of your own accord.’
Julia let her head fall forwards. ‘I’m going,’ she mumbled.
‘Good,’ Edna said. ‘Let her go.’
Brian and Michael released their grip on her, and she turned to walk back to her car. As she did so, she heard Edna call out to her.
‘I suggest you come by tomorrow. We need to talk.’
It was not a talk that Julia was looking forward to.
iii.
Julia was up early, unable to sleep. Her mind was stuck in a loop in which variations of the previous day’s events played out. In the end, she gave in and slumped in front of the television, a mug of tea cradled between her palms, the base balanced on her stomach. It was the way her dad had sat when he watched Match of the Day or Grandstand, before the evening came and he pulled on his weekend shoes and coat and left the house.
Just off out early doors, love, he’d say, before kissing his wife, always on the lips and often more than once. Julia had grown up thinking that all parents kissed each other hello and goodbye and danced around the kitchen to the radio and cuddled on the couch like teenagers to watch whatever film the Beeb was showing. It was only when she was a little older that she realized that her mum and dad were the exception; that the fruitful, abiding love at the heart of their marriage was an island in an ocean of desiccated, hollow relationships.
I’ll be back in a while, he’d say. You get your dancing clothes on while I’m gone.
And he’d be back an hour or two later, smelling of cigarette smoke and beer, to take his bride for a meal or to the movies, or, in later years, to the wine bar that had opened in the village. Sometimes he’d sit with Julia while he waited for her mum, and he’d talk to her, share his thoughts about the world, his mood opened by the beer he’d drunk. She remembered these times well, remembered the advice he’d given her:
You can spend a long time listing out all the things you’ve not got, Julia; so long, that you never find time to enjoy the things you do have.
Most people are all right, at heart, but never forget that there’s some buggers in the world who’ll do things you’d never dream of to get what they want.
And her favourite, the one that summed up her mum and dad and their marriage:
A man can count his friends on the fingers of one hand, and one of them’s his wife.
They would never have divorced. The thought would never have entered their minds. Theirs was a love story, and Julia missed both it and them.
She fell asleep in the armchair. When she woke up it was nearly eight. Brian was expecting her at nine, so she went to shower and dress and see what exactly he had to say.
It was overcast as she pulled into Edna’s driveway: the dark clouds low and heavy. The air smelled of rain. She knocked on the door, her banging less frantic today, but her heart racing just the same at the thought of seeing Anna. She’d ask her daughter whether she wanted to come with mummy, and she was sure her daughter would say yes.
Brian opened the door. He looked relaxed, clean-shaven, and smartly dressed. Just how Edna liked him. The smart, confident scion of an important family.
There were only faint traces of her nails on his cheek.
‘Morning,’ he said. ‘Come in.’
She stepped into the vestibule and then into the hallway. The dark wooden floorboards were polished to a mirror gleam. She looked around, listening for the sounds of her daughter. She’d been picturing a rapturous reunion.
‘Where’s Anna?’
‘She’s gone out for breakfast with Mum.’
Julia felt the anger ball up just below her sternum. ‘I want to see her! She’s my daughter, for God’s sake! Why are you doing this, Brian?’
‘It’s fine. Relax. She’ll be back any moment. I wanted to talk to you alone, before you see her.’
‘About what?’
He looked at the ceiling and then at the floor. His gaze remained low. ‘About custody,’ he said.
Julia folded her arms. ‘What about it?’
‘I wondered what you were thinking.’
‘I was thinking that Anna would be with me. You’d have full access. Wednesdays, and every other weekend. Maybe more. Whatever we decide is best for her.’
He looked at her with a thoughtful, slightly patronizing expression. ‘I guessed that might be your position.’
He let the words hang between them. Eventually, Julia shrugged.
‘What’s your position?’ she asked.
‘The opposite. I think she’d be better off with me. You’d have full access,’ he said, using her words. ‘Wednesdays, and every other weekend. Maybe more. Whatever we decide is best for her.’
Julia laughed. ‘What makes you think I’d agree to that? You forget, Brian, that I am a divorce lawyer. I know the law and I know how it’s applied.’ She leaned forwards and spoke in a lowered voice as though sharing a secret. ‘Between you and me, the mother always gets custody.’
‘I’d rather avoid a custody battle,’ Brian said. ‘It’ll just be expensive and difficult.’
‘Then don’t start one,’ Julia said. ‘There’s no point. You’ll lose.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Brian said.
‘Well, I am.’
‘OK,’ he said. ‘Fine. I guess we’ll find out. Take a seat. They’ll be back any second. Would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee?’
‘No,’ Julia said. ‘And what do you mean, “I guess we’ll find out”?’
‘Just that. I guess we’ll find out how the court rules when we get there.’
‘So you’re saying you’re going to drag us through a custody battle?’
‘No. You’re going to drag us through a custody battle.’
‘I don’t think you get it, Brian. This is a fight you can’t win. If you start it, knowing that, then the fallout is on you. There’s no reason for you to do this.’
‘There’s every reason. I want custody of my daughter. If that’s the only way to get it, then so be it.’
Julia shook her head. ‘But you won’t get custody, Brian. You’ll lose. Don’t you see that? There’s much less heartache if we just agree it between us. You said it yourself; it’ll be expensive and difficult.’
‘I think I will get custody.’ He shrugged. ‘But you disagree. We can put it to the test.’
She found this new, calm, rational version of him infuriating. She could tell that, whatever she said, however insulting, he would not take the bait. He was so confident. The question was why. It gnawed at her.
‘Why are you so sure, Brian?’ she said, suddenly. ‘Why do you think a judge would favour you?’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘The court has to act in the best interest of the child, as I understand it.’
‘And that is almost always to stay with the mother.’
The front door opened. It was Edna and Anna, back from breakfast. Brian smiled.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Then you should be ok. Enjoy the visit.’
iv.
Anna came into the hallway. Her black shoes – new, patent leather, relics from 1970s fashion and almost certainly selected by Edna – clicked on the hardwood floors. She was smiling, happy, holding her grandmother’s veined hand with her left hand, a boiled sweet lollipop in the right.
‘Mummy!’ she said. ‘We had pancakes for breakfast! With honey!’
‘We went to the garden centre,’ Edna said. ‘They have a very good café there. The honey comes from their own bees.’
Julia ignored her. Edna’s tone was the same as if she and Julia were ancient bosom pals. It was as though there was nothing out of the ordinary going on, as though Anna’s disappearance and the divorce and the volcanic argument of the day before hadn’t happened. Well, Julia wasn’t going to play the game. She wasn’t interested in pleasant conversation with Edna. She’d had enough of this farce.
She bent down and picked up Anna. ‘That’s great,’ she said. ‘Did you like it?’
‘I loved it!’ Anna wrapped her arms around Julia’s neck and rested her cheek on her mother’s collar bone. ‘I missed you, Mummy. Where were you?’
‘I was at home. I missed you too.’
She closed her eyes. She was not going to let this happen. She was not going to allow Edna – for it was Edna, not Brian behind this – to take Anna from her, even for however long it took for all this to settle down. Anna was her daughter, and she was going to be with Julia. She was not going to be Edna’s protégé, a shiny-shoe wearing, horse-riding, hothouse plant raised in her grandmother’s image. Never mind ‘Tiger Mums’; they had nothing on Edna.
She could just walk out of here now, right this second. Take Anna home, lock the door, and refuse to let Brian in. Plenty of marriages broke down that way, with the father’s face pressed up against the window, looking in at what he had lost. She didn’t doubt that she would get custody, in the end, but it would be easier if Anna was living with her, if she could point to the current situation and say look, it’s working just fine. Precedent was important. The court would err on the side of the minimum disruption to Anna’s life, and if she was already with Julia then that would be to let her stay there.
Edna knew that, of course, which was why she had brought Anna to her house. But although Julia might not have measured up to Edna in a majority of ways, she was a match for her when it came to child custody. This was her world. She knew all there was to know about it: the letter of the law, the spirit of the law, and the application of the law.
And she knew the most important thing about all of if: the mother always got custody. She knew Edna and she knew what Edna was thinking: the court will act in the best interests of the child and the best interests of the child are to be with me, Dr Edna Crowne. How could they not be? How could the best interests of any child not be to be brought up by Edna Crowne? It was a rare privilege, a blessing, a near guarantee of lifelong success and happiness. Yes, maternal bonds and familial love were important, and in most cases they would be decisive, but this was not most cases. This child had the opportunity to be raised by Edna Crowne, to attend the best schools, to enter the professions, to become rich.
But this was a perfect example of Edna’s blind spot. She was so convinced by the strength of her argument that she could not even imagine that there was the possibility of someone disagreeing with her, especially not a judge. Judges were calm and intelligent and rational, and people like that could not help but be persuaded by the force of Edna Crowne’s presentation.
It didn’t work like that, though. Mothers got custody. Perhaps it wasn’t always the best decision, perhaps it wasn’t fair, perhaps those dads with the purple T-shirts demanding Justice for Fathers and more rights to see their children had a point. But it didn’t matter. Because mothers got custody. They just did. It was the way it was, and even Edna Crowne could not change it.
‘OK, Anna,’ Julia said. ‘Say goodbye to Dad. It’s time to go home now.’
‘Oh,’ Anna said. ‘Bye Daddy.’
Brian was standing in front of Julia, a few feet further inside the house. He moved towards the door to the vestibule; Julia backed against it to block him off. She put her hand on the doorknob, ready to open it.
‘Don’t do this,’ Brian said. ‘It’s not a good idea.’
‘Do what?’ Julia said. ‘Take my daughter home? How can that not be a good idea?’
‘Trust me,’ Edna said. ‘It isn’t.’
Julia snapped her head around. She stared at Edna, keeping her eyes fixed on those of her mother-in-law in a deliberate challenge. ‘You,’ she said, ‘can keep your mouth’ – she glanced at Anna – ‘can remain quiet on matters that don’t involve you.’
‘It does involve me,’ Edna said. ‘After all, I’m going to have to open my house to my granddaughter when she comes to live here. I think that counts as involvement.’
‘It would,’ Julia said. ‘If it was going to happen. But since it isn’t going to happen, you aren’t involved. So kindly,’ she mimed pulling a zip across her mouth in the kind of modern, disrespectful gesture that she knew would infuriate Edna , ‘zip it.’
It had the desired effect. Edna straightened to her full height. ‘You are a—’
Julia raised her hand, palm outwards. ‘Talk to the hand,’ she said, enjoying the look of fury on Edna’s face. ‘’Cos the face ain’t listening.’
‘Be careful, young—’ Edna began.
‘Zip it,’ Julia said, performing the mime again. This was almost fun. She should have done it years ago. ‘Zip it.’
Edna nodded slowly. She shrugged. She turned to Brian. ‘Do you want to tell her, or should I?’
‘I will,’ Brian said. ‘If you want.’
‘Tell me what?’ Julia asked.
‘In fact,’ Edna said, still looking at Brian, ‘I’ll tell her.’
‘Tell me what?’ Julia asked, again. She did not like the narrow-eyed smirk on Edna’s face. It looked suspiciously triumphant.
‘Why your confidence in the outcome of any custody battle might be a little misplaced.’
‘That old chestnut,’ Julia said. ‘I don’t think it is. But enlighten me, nonetheless.’
‘You might prefer it if Anna doesn’t hear this,’ Edna said. ‘It won’t be very pleasant for her.’
‘Right,’ Julia said. ‘I’ll put her down then you’ll throw me out. You must think I fell out of the tree yesterday, Edna. Go ahead. Say your piece.’
Edna shrugged. ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘if that’s how you want it.’
Brian was impassive. When Edna began he looked away, almost as though he was ashamed.
‘As I understand it,’ Edna said, speaking slowly and taking care to enunciate every word, in the same deliberate way that someone might eat a meal they wanted particularly to savour, ‘the court’s main – if not only – concern is the welfare of the child.’
‘Which they normally conclude lies in granting custody to the mother,’ Julia said. ‘Unfortunate for fathers, but just the way it seems to be.’
‘They do,’ Edna said. ‘Unless the mother is incapable of taking care of the child. Say, for example, if she is unstable. Or depressed, or suicidal. Or has a drinking problem. Or an anger management issue.’
Julia opened her mouth to speak, but she did know what to say. Her tongue was dry and stuck to the roof of her mouth.
‘I see that you understand what I am saying,’ Edna said.
Julia did, but she couldn’t quite believe it, couldn’t quite grasp how serious the situation was. Grasping at straws, she shook her head.
‘You’re wrong,’ she said. ‘You’re wrong.’
‘I don’t think I am. I have taken counsel on the matter and, if a judge thought that a mother – say you, for example – had some issues to work through, then they might well award custody to the father.’
Julia stared at Edna. ‘Are you saying you’re going to lie about me in order to get custody?’
‘No,’ Edna said. ‘Not at all. The facts are what they are, Julia. Now, let’s think through what a court might see when presented with this case.’ She gazed at the ceiling, as though deep in thought. ‘First, you don’t show up to collect your daughter, who is then abducted. Then, second, it comes out in the press that you were planning to abandon her anyway—’
‘I wasn’t!” Julia said. ‘You know that! I might have wanted to leave Brian, but that did not mean I was going to abandon Anna! The press made all that up!’
Edna held up her hand, palm facing outwards. ‘I’m just telling you what might be presented in court. And as far as I know, you were planning to abandon Anna. If asked, I would say it seems precisely the kind of behaviour I might expect from you.’
‘I don’t believe you’re doing this. Even you, Edna. I can’t believe you would stoop so low.’
‘Who’s stooping?’ Edna said. ‘These are just the facts.’ She smiled. ‘And there are more. I’ll go on, shall I?’
Julia lowered Anna to the floor. She’d changed her mind. She didn’t want her to hear whatever was coming next.
‘Go and play in the sunroom,’ she said. ‘I’ll just be a minute or so.’
After Anna left, Julia turned to Brian. ‘Are you going to let her do this?’ she asked. ‘Are you going to be part of this? Because if you are, then it’s on your conscience.’
‘I have to do what’s best for Anna,’ Brian said, unable to meet her gaze. ‘And that means she stays with me.’
‘I have some more facts, if you’re interested,’ Edna said. ‘Ready?’
Julia didn’t reply; Edna cleared her throat theatrically. It was her turn to enjoy herself.
‘Third, you are mentally unstable. A few days ago you attempted suicide, which is not the action of a well person.’ She was holding out her fist and extending one finger for every point she made.
‘I did not!’ Julia said. ‘You’re lying! You know you are!’
‘But would a court know that, Julia?’ Edna said. ‘That is what you must ask yourself.’ She extended a fourth finger. ‘Fourth, there are signs that you have a drinking problem, a problem which may have played a part in your failed suicide. Fifth, and finally, you appear to be unable to control your anger, something that may also be a result of your alcohol abuse. The gentleman who was here yesterday happens to be a magistrate, and he was appalled at your behaviour. I am sure he would have no problem describing it in court.’
She held up her hand, all five fingers now extended. ‘So,’ she said. ‘Five reasons, any one of which might be reason enough for a judge not to award custody to you. In the presence of all five’ – Edna shrugged – ‘a responsible person would have no choice but to award custody to the father. Rare, these days, but not impossible.’
Julia found it hard to think what to say. There was so much wrong with what Edna had said, so much that was either a distortion or an outright untruth – she was not an alcoholic, nor was she suicidal, nor did she have anger management issues – but she knew there was no point denying it. Edna already knew none of it was true, but that was irrelevant. Edna was not asking her to give her opinion; she was showing Julia her hand.
And what a hand it was. A straight flush, or a royal flush, or whatever was the best hand in a poker game. Even before she’d had an opportunity to think it through she could see how strong a position it was, and how weak a position she had. Her neglect and desire to abandon Anna, and attempted suicide, were a matter of public record, at least, as far as the newspapers were concerned – and even though the press were wrong, it was her word against theirs, as she could hardly expect Brian to stand up for her – and as for the drinking and anger issues, well, they might not be provable, but they were also not disprovable, and once the allegations were made then the stink of them would hover over her.
Especially since the good magistrate had seen her screaming at Brian, and would take his place in the witness box to say so. Julia closed her eyes.
‘So,’ Edna said. ‘Any comments?’
Julia could think of nothing to say. All she wanted was to get out of that house as fast as she could. She faced Brian.
‘Your mother is going to ruin your life,’ she said. ‘In the end, she’ll ruin it, because she’s poison. Pure poison. I hope for your sake you get out before it’s too late.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Brian said. ‘You already ruined my life. All I have left is Anna, which is why I’m not going to let you take her as well. Remember Julia, this is your doing. You chose this. We could still be together, if it wasn’t for you.’
Julia looked from Brian to Edna, and back to Brian again. ‘No we couldn’t,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t stand another minute with you and that twisted old bitch that gave birth to you. I’d rather be dead.’
‘More suicidal wishes,’ Edna said. ‘Tut tut.’
‘Fuck you,’ Julia said. ‘Fuck you, you inhuman bitch.’
‘And anger,’ Edna said. ‘Gosh. You never learn, do you? You created this situation, Julia. Don’t you see that? This all comes from your actions. Your neglect and anger and selfishness. Take those from the picture and there would be no problem here. But there they are, and so how could I leave my granddaughter in your care? God alone knows what might happen to her.’
‘I’m taking her with me,’ Julia said. ‘She’s coming home.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Brian said. ‘Don’t make this worse for yourself. At the moment you get access. Alone, with Anna.’
The threat was clear: give in or they would try and deny her any access at all, or limit it to supervised access. They would use what they had to paint a picture of her as wild and crazy and totally unsuitable for any kind of maternal role, especially when Anna had the option of solid, hard-working Brian and his heroic mother.
‘So now what?’ Julia said, her voice a whisper.
‘Now you go home,’ Edna said. ‘And wait to hear from our lawyers.’
Our lawyers.
That ‘our’ was as eloquent an expression of who was behind this as a thousand-word essay could have been.
Julia was reeling, her head spinning. She was a lawyer herself; she knew how to fight this. She just needed to think about it, to work through the options. But she couldn’t. At that moment she was unable to get any purchase on the situation, unable to fully understand what Brian and Edna were saying, unable to tell whether they were right.
‘Can I say goodbye to Anna?’ she said. ‘Please?’
Edna started to shake her head, but Brian interrupted.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and get her.’
v.
Julia took a long time over the drive home. It was a warm day and the Cheshire countryside was showing its best: the ancient hedgerows buzzed with life, sun dappled the ponds and rivers, the stone cottages gleamed with fresh vigour.
She didn’t notice any of it. Julia could understand why Brian was doing this, or at least, why he was letting Edna do it. He would not have had the imagination or ruthlessness to do it on his own. It was simple enough: he wanted his daughter. Unlike many dads he had the chance to get her. If it meant destroying Julia’s reputation then that was a price worth paying. And he occupied the moral high ground, at least, as far as he was concerned, because he had not started this. It was she who had demanded that they break up, not him, and so she should pay the price.
But she had not started this. That was what he refused to see. Their marriage had failed. That was simply a fact. Look at how they were treating each other now. There was no love there anymore. All Julia had done was to recognize that, and apply the final mercy to what their relationship had become.
There was no blame in that. None. The opposite, in fact. It took more courage to put an end to something that was dying than it did to let it suffer. When she was a girl – perhaps seven, or eight – she had been eating lunch with her father (he had made his specialty dish: fried eggs, pickled onions, beans and bacon) when there was a thud against the window. Julia jumped up to go and look.
Tottering on one leg on the flagstones was a small brown bird.
Dad, she said, It’s a bird. It’s alive.
Its wing’s broken, her dad said. It’s a swallow.
Can we help it?
No, her dad said. We can’t.
We can take it to the vet!
There’s nothing he can do.
Julia felt a sense of deep injustice at the ways of the universe at that moment. How was it possible that there was nothing they could do to help this tiny, damaged creature? Nothing the vet could do. Nothing her dad – a superman – could do?
Well, she said. We can’t just leave it there.
No, her dad said. We can’t. I’ll sort it out after lunch.
What do you mean?
I have to put it out of its misery, Julia. It’s the only kind thing to do.
It had taken her a few seconds to understand what he meant, and when she did she struggled to believe it, struggled to accept that her dad could even contemplate such a thing.
You’re going to kill it? she said, tears both for the fate of the bird and at the cruelty of her father springing to her eyes. That’s horrible.
It’s not, her dad said. It seems that way, but it’s the kindest thing we can do for it. The bird is suffering, Julia, and it will suffer until it dies from hunger or thirst or at the hands of some damn cat. Sometimes you have to be tough. Sometimes that’s the only way to help something.
She’d understood it. She might not have if it had been anyone other than her father telling her – she might have just thought they were making excuses because they wanted to kill the bird – but coming from her dad, she could believe it.
Do it now, she said, and he had. He’d left the house and gone to his shed and come back with a shovel. Gently he pushed the bird onto the metal blade and carried it around the back of his shed, out of his daughter’s sight.
It’s ok, he said, when he came back, his face grave. The bird is happy now.
And that was what she had done to their marriage. It was broken, over. There was no point in letting it limp on. Of course, it was sad that it hadn’t worked, and that Anna would have to deal with the separation of her parents, but it wasn’t anybody’s fault. Some marriages worked, others didn’t, everyone knew that, and everyone knew that it was better to make a clean break than keep an unhealthy, unhappy marriage going. The days of living in misery because of the shame of divorce or ‘for the kids’ were over. Maybe Edna – and therefore Brian – didn’t agree, but so what? On this particular issue, Edna was wrong, not that she could ever have accepted that.
So Julia had done the right thing. She had told Brian it was over, adult to adult. She had avoided drama and affairs and high emotion, which would have been damaging to Anna, by taking the wounded sparrow out of sight – calmly, like her father – and giving it a dignified end. In doing so, she had prepared the ground for a civil and well-managed divorce, after which, Anna would live with her mum and see her dad as often as made sense. It was a situation that occurred all over the country every day.
And then Anna had been taken. That was at the heart of this. That was what had gone wrong. That was to blame, not Julia. If it hadn’t been for the kidnapping, right that moment Julia and Anna would be enjoying ice cream at a Cheshire farm.
But that was not what had happened. Anna had been taken, the press had built a simple story in which Julia was the villain, and now she stood, for the second time in as many weeks, to lose everything, and she wasn’t sure there was anything she could do about it.
The case they would make against her was strong. She didn’t need to be a lawyer to see that. Did it matter that half of it was embellished, twisted, or just plain wrong? Not really. There were enough facts – her late arrival at the school, her desire for a divorce, the so-called suicide attempt, her scratching Brian – to make the picture of her as an unhinged, alcohol-dependent, non-maternal monster seem plausible.
She couldn’t go home. Not yet. It was too empty, too obvious a symbol of what her life had become and what it would remain.
She needed something else, something human.
She needed her mum.
vi.
‘Hi Mum,’ Julia said.
The woman sitting on the worn upholstery of a large wing chair blinked at her. She had liver spots on the back of her wrinkled hands. She didn’t speak.
Julia put her hand on her mum’s elbow.
‘I missed you,’ she said. Normally, she would recount what had happened to her, what Anna was up to, in the hope that some of it went in, that some of it lodged somewhere in her mum’s shattered mind and maybe came out in her dreams, maybe gave her some subconscious comfort.
Now, though, she had no comfort to offer.
‘I missed you,’ she repeated. ‘I miss you.’
She blinked back tears. ‘Oh, Mum,’ she said. ‘What happened? Where did I go wrong? Should I never have married him? It felt so right at the time.’
She hesitated, unsure of whether she should carry on, but she had no choice. Now she had started, she was unable to stop.
It all spilled out. She told her mum what had happened. About the divorce, about Anna, about Edna. About how it was her fault. About how she had been forced to leave her daughter, after only just getting her back, about how that made her feel like the worst mother, the worst person, in the world.
‘I just wish I could go back in time,’ she said. ‘Go back in time and fix it.’
Her mum frowned. Her jaw clenched, the muscles working. She turned to Julia, and blinked again. Her frown deepened, then, suddenly, there was clarity in her gaze, knowledge in her eyes. She chuckled, and patted Julia’s hand.
‘Don’t worry, love,’ she said. ‘You’ll be fine.’
For a moment Julia believed that her mum had returned, was whole again.
‘Mum?’ she said. ‘Are you ok?’
Her mum looked at her for a few, long seconds. The clarity gave way to a slightly puzzled, faraway expression, as though she was lost deep in thought, then the old lady’s eyes clouded over and she spoke again.
‘Whoever you are,’ she said.
She was gone – if she had even been there – but that fleeting instant was enough for Julia. She smiled, got to her feet, and kissed her mum goodbye.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I love you, Mum.’