Lily tromped through clumpy, wet grass to an overgrown path close to the Thames. From there Windsor Castle was massive atop it’s chalky bluff and she could make out the Union Jack snapping above the royal residence. No monarch in residence today, if she remembered the rule properly.
A mossy bench beneath the leafless branches of a weeping willow glistened with moisture. She took a croissant and bottle of Starbucks Frappuccino from a plastic bag and used the latter to keep her coat from getting too wet on the seat. The canvas tote she carried was heavy enough to make red marks on her wrist and she balanced it on her lap, keeping her elbows propped where they guarded the bag against her.
Her car was parked on the other side of the river, the Eton side. Only foot traffic was allowed on the Windsor Bridge and although she barely remembered much about it, this, or somewhere around here, must have been where her mother brought her on one of the rare times she’d taken Lily out from her foster home for a day.
They would be serving the lunch crowd at the Black Dog. Lily’s hands were cold. She blew on first one, then the other. The mountain of overwhelming guilt at having run out on the people who relied on her had become a numb place in her mind. James knew where she had gone, as closely as she could explain, and he would manage to cover for her – or at least stop Alex from panicking too badly.
Angela had brought her seven- or eight-year-old daughter Lily here. They had looked up at the castle and gone by bus to Runnymede where Angela had read aloud a memorial commemorating the signing of the Magna Carta, although it had meant nothing to Lily who couldn’t really concentrate on anything anyway. Being with her mother was all that mattered to a little girl who spent so much time waiting for such a day.
There was a house, a big house with tall trees and lawns, flowers, and water fountains spraying into pools. Lily remembered people riding by on horseback, laughing and talking. They took no notice of Lily or Angela. Immediately after that Angela had held her hand while they ran through trees again to a big gate.
Where had that house been? Quite close to Eton and Windsor, Lily thought. And it had a name but she didn’t remember that, either.
She must eat. The croissant was still faintly warm – probably from clutching it too tightly. When she unwrapped the flaking pastry it was squashed and pieces sprayed her coat but she started eating and found she was ravenous. The creamy coffee tasted good cold. Lily drank it down quickly and put the empty bottle on the bench.
Ducks swam closer, light catching emerald green feathers on their heads. They nattered and fussed and Lily broke off bits of the croissant to toss among the birds. The flapping and bustling brought her an instant’s smile before she looked down at the tan bag she held tightly on her lap.
Angela had come to see her once more, when Lily was ten. They went only as far as the playground beside the tall block of flats where Lily lived with foster parents and four bigger children who weren’t interested in her. They did leave her alone when they were at home and they weren’t mean.
It rained that afternoon but Lily didn’t care. She and Angela sat side-by-side on swings that creaked and screamed with every small move.
‘Do you remember when I took you to look at Windsor Castle?’ Angela asked. ‘You were really little then so you’ve probably forgotten.’
Lily looked at it again now. ‘Of course, I haven’t,’ she’d told her mum. ‘I never will. Cross my heart.’ Grown-ups didn’t seem to understand how little kids had good memories for happy stuff.
‘Would you like to go there again—?’
‘Yes, yes!’ Lily jumped off her swing. ‘Can we go now? I can go and get my mac.’
‘No, Lilababe, not now.’ Mum hadn’t called her that for ever so long. Lily liked hearing it again. ‘I was thinking that it would be a lovely place to go back to one day. For something special.’
Lily kept her head up and smiled. She wouldn’t look disappointed, or cry like a little kid might. ‘I’d like that,’ she said, climbing back on the swing.
‘We need to go in,’ Mum said. ‘My friends are waiting for me.’
With hurt in her throat, Lily nodded and frowned as if she was thinking hard about something serious. ‘Do I know your friends? Are they some of the ones we lived with sometimes?’ She must not let her voice wobble or her mum wouldn’t come back ever.
‘I don’t think you met these friends,’ Mum said. ‘Come on.’ She got up and reached out a hand.
Lily held on tight and smiled her very best smile. She had all her teeth again now and sometimes she was told they were nice.
All the way back to the block of flats where her foster family lived Lily skipped. Was she too old to skip now? She wasn’t sure but she stopped and lifted her mum’s hand to kiss it. Mum stood still and gave her a hug, rested her face on top of Lily’s curly hair.
They took the smelly lift to the right floor and walked to the black front door with all the kick marks.
‘Remember,’ Mum said, ‘for something really special I’ll take you to see Windsor Castle again – and sit by the river. We’ll take a picnic.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lily had said.
Her mum went away quickly and didn’t look back to wave once. Lily couldn’t swallow at all. Tears escaped and ran down her cheeks. They tasted salty on her lips.
This probably wasn’t the actual bench they’d sat on but it was close enough for Lily’s memory to make it so.
Angela had not returned, not to the awful flat, or to the two other homes where Lily had been placed before, at fifteen, she was taken by a couple who were so kind she thought she had finally found her forever place.
The bag on her lap wasn’t really heavy, just awkward. Her mother had promised her that they would come back to this place for something special and in a way, they had. In the bag were two wooden boxes and several sealed envelopes of various sizes. These things were all she would have of Angela, and a past Lily had never known – her mother’s past, or that’s what she expected to find. Lily had brought them here because it seemed the right thing to do.
She put a hand into the bag and pulled out a box. Perhaps two inches deep, it had enough weight to make her wonder if it could have only papers inside. The second box, cheap but carved and painted in garish colors, looked as if it was one of many the same, perhaps from a market. Lily had a fleeting memory of Notting Hill. How could she remember when she must have been no more than five? And Portobello Road Market, her hand held tightly. Big girls like her mother in long, colored skirts. They shrieked with laughter and strands of beads clicked from their necks and wrists. Their hair was long and so was the hair of the men with them. They all laughed and they tickled her until she laughed, too. And they bought her ice cream and candy floss, and toffee apples.
The colored boxes, of all different sizes and shapes, were piled on a table covered with a bright yellow cloth that flapped in the wind. One of the big girls took a box and put it in Lily’s hands …
She looked at the box she held now. Had this been the one she was given? Lily didn’t remember. She put both boxes on the bench beside her.
The envelopes did contain papers. One held a child’s crayon drawings and she knew they were hers, that Angela had kept them. Childish notes in big, rounded letters: ‘I’m being good, Mummy?’
The second envelope bulged with photographs, a lot in black and white, a scrap of faded lace, a small envelope of fragile pressed flowers. Inside pieces of creased tissue paper lay a tarnished silver frame containing the black and white photograph of a young couple smiling at the camera. The man had a rose in his buttonhole and the girl held a bunch of flowers.
Inside the final envelope were several sheets of paper folded together with a notecard paperclipped to them. Lily eased the card free and read:
I understood that you should know these things, but not when would be the right time to give them to you. When you get this, the decision will have been made for me. I can’t tell you what to think or feel, but I can ask you to understand that we are all no more than human and we are weak sometimes. I love you. I always have and I wish I could have been better at finding a good path for both of us.
With love,
Mummy (Angela Picket Devoss)
Devoss?
There was folded paper, lined, torn from a notebook. Lily’s hands trembled as she pulled off the paperclip and opened the sheets out flat.
I am Angela Picket Devoss. My parents worked for the Devoss family on their estate in Windsor. That’s where I was born and grew up.
Simon Devoss was the youngest of three sons and my friend for all of my childhood. We played together as children, but as we became teenagers Simon was told he must not be around me. He was not someone who did as he was told unless he thought it was the right thing. Simon thought, as I did, that friends as close as we were should be together.
I was eighteen, Simon was twenty – we knew we would always be in love. We ran away and married in a registry office. Two of Simon’s friends were our witnesses. Afterwards we tried to tell our families. Simon’s parents wanted to take him home and send him back to university, but said I would never be welcomed by them. They wanted our marriage annulled. My parents wouldn’t see me.
We lived in a little flat in Slough and Simon got a job as an accounting clerk. He intended to be a lawyer but we knew it would be hard to find a way to do that with little money. I worked in a sweet shop.
It wasn’t a sad time. It was very happy, the most happy in my life.
Four months after we married, Simon was killed by a car that overtook a bus when he was crossing the road. His family held his funeral but wouldn’t speak to me. I understand they thought it was all my fault. In a way it was. But for me, Simon would never have been near that bus. I couldn’t change any of it.
Lily could hardly breathe, or see. She wanted to hold her mother, to comfort her. Too late. Too late so long ago.
I had just found out I was pregnant with you, Lily. My family continued to work for the Devoss household and were so ashamed and angry they said awful things to me and said I should do what was kindest for them after I caused so much trouble. They would send me to Ireland, to relatives, they said.
The only relative there was an aunt who put me into a convent where they took in what they called fallen women, including those who were pregnant and not married. I was not supposed to leave at all and my baby would be taken away and given to a family in America. The sisters made money by selling the babies but they pretended it was best for everyone. I was told, over and over, that I wasn’t married because there was no church wedding.
A young nun, Sister Mary Edwin, helped me to run away. I wish I knew what happened to her but there was no way to stay in touch. I put her name on the back of your pendant, Lily – that was the prettiest gift I gave to you, my child. I came back to England and never contacted my family again.
I was so lucky but so young. I was too immature and frightened to look for help in the right places. A group of young people, about my age, had the top floor of the house where I rented a room. I was upset all the time and very pregnant. I couldn’t hide it anymore. What little money I had was running out and the group upstairs took me in. They loved that I was having a baby and when you were born, they loved you, Lily. Without them I don’t know how we would have survived. I couldn’t stop thinking about Simon – your father – and all we had lost.
That’s almost all of the story. Lily, you were our child, all of us. We all looked after you but not well enough. We did a lot of things we shouldn’t have done and got into trouble. We got into trouble many times and eventually it all fell apart for us. Stupid people, we were. But I don’t want anyone to think my friends weren’t special. They were. Silly, but kind. I have never forgotten how good they were to you and me, Lily.
You were taken away from me and put into foster care. I wanted to get you back and I tried for a long time, but then I stopped trying.
The best thing I ever did for you was stay out of your life, I got out of your life before I damaged you forever.
Forgive me.
Lily pulled the child-sized medallion from beneath the neck of her sweater. She had long ago had to put it on a much longer silver chain than the one Angela had given her as a very small girl. At last she knew the reason for using the names, Mary Edwina.
How long had she sat there, watching the ducks, watching a lone oarsman propel his scull past with the smooth rhythm of an expert?
Too long but Lily couldn’t seem to make herself move. The day had grown darker, the sky hanging heavy with snow.
She must call Alex and she must go home.
Her mobile was in the tote. She fished it out and turned it on, tried not to look at all the calls she had deliberately missed. It would be easier not to talk to Alex yet – cowardly, but easier, and she needed to gather her strength and her wits.
Lily dialed the pub number. If Alex answered, so be it.
The phone rang a number of times before it was picked up and a breathless voice said, ‘This is the kitchen – I mean this is the Black Dog. Hang on and I’ll get someone.’
‘No,’ Lily said quickly. ‘I’ll talk to you. Who is this?’
Before the woman could answer, Lily remembered that Gladys had started work today.
‘Hello, Gladys. This is Lily. How did breakfast go? I was sorry I had to be gone on your first day.’ Her heart beat hard. If she stretched this out too long, Hugh or Alex would come on the line.
‘It went really well,’ Gladys said, still breathless but sounding pleased. ‘We had a lot of customers.’
‘That’s really good. Listen. I’ve got to get on the road. Please let Alex know I won’t be too late.’
She thanked Gladys and before the woman could get another word in, hung up. Gladys always left Lily with a warm feeling. She wasn’t demonstrative, but had been there when Lily first went to Underhill and was so kind to her and little Alex.
The Ford was in a car park on the Eton side of the Windsor Bridge. Lily gathered her things back into the tote and set off at a brisk walk. The sooner she was on her way, the better, even though she wasn’t sure how she would explain her absence. Perhaps with the truth. Like Lily, Alex had a right to know these things. It could be that if she had discussed her own history much earlier, she would have had the courage to tell Alex hers.
By the time she reached her car, snow began to fall lightly. Her hands were cold and she rubbed them together, smiling as a gaggle of kids rushed by screaming with laughter. They attempted to scrape enough snow for snowballs but the results fell apart in the air.
The mobile rang as Lily opened her car door.
Her first thought was that Gladys had already told Alex about the call, but when she checked, she saw ‘unknown caller’.
In the front seat, she continued to look at the phone and eventually sighed, relieved when the ringing finally stopped. She closed and locked the doors, started the car and turned on the wonky heating system. It would take a while to warm up and clear the inside of the windows.
The mobile rang again.
The readout was the same.
A lot of people preferred not to broadcast their numbers. She took a breath and answered. ‘Yes. Who is this please?’
‘Where are you?’ It must be Alex and she sounded muffled, as if she was crying.
‘I just had to get away for a bit. Too much seems to be happening so I wanted to have a chance to clear my head. I came to a place I knew when I was a kid. This is … I’ve never been back before. I’ll be on my way home again soon. Don’t worry.’
‘Are you in London?’
‘No. I was, but I love it here by the river. I’ll tell you all about it later. All of it, this time.’
Alex didn’t answer but Lily could tell she was still on the phone. ‘I came here with my mother, Alex. It’s difficult to talk about on the phone. Let me come home first.’
Nothing. Lily held back tears. ‘Say something, please.’
‘I’m a friend. An old friend, Lily. Don’t you recognize my voice? You’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t. But I recognize yours so please just listen to what I want to tell you. We have some catching up to do. It’s for your own good so listen carefully.’
Shocked, Lily hung up. Her hands might be cold on the inside but on the outside, they were sweating. She rested her forehead on the wheel. Who was it? What did they want? A woman’s voice but husky the way people who smoked a lot had husky voices sometimes. She must have got the wrong number. But she knew Lily’s name!
Once more the phone rang and she pressed the talk button, took the instrument to her ear.
‘Don’t do that again. It’s not wise. Just listen. This is Beverly Irving. Your dearest friend, remember? I’m the one who rescued you when you had nowhere to turn.’
Lily breathed through her mouth, gulped air through her mouth. It couldn’t be. The memories flooded back and mingled with thoughts of Angela, and her own childhood. Some might look at Lily’s life, at Alex’s beginnings, and say, ‘like mother like daughter’, but it wasn’t the same. Angela’s story had been different.
But Beverly Irving wasn’t supposed to find them again. Lily had changed their last name – even though Beverly had eventually promised not to come near them again. Lily had worked hard to find a new life for Alex and herself, away from Beverly Irving, social worker, with designs on Alex.
Beverly started laughing and Lily clutched the phone tightly.
‘Take a proper breath, Lily. You always were an anxious little thing and I can’t have you dying on me now. You might draw attention we don’t want. I know you’ve been to pick up the things your dreadful mother left for you.’
Lily slapped a hand over her mouth to keep the exclamation in.
‘Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get to them first, but we all trust the wrong people from time to time. Another lesson learned for me. Now. I can imagine some of what has been passed on to you. Take it with a pinch of salt, my dear. Forget it. More important, you are not to drag up anything that happened while we were together. I have worked too long and too hard to build my own life and I like it. I cannot have you or your daughter spreading lies that could upset my family. You don’t know my family and never will – that’s as it should be. So, forget any ideas you may have of digging up the past. You were well paid to forget but I have reason to doubt that you have kept your end of our bargain. Regardless, you will get nothing further from me.
‘If you ignore what I’m saying and go to the police, I’m afraid someone you care for will suffer. Goodbye.’