What was Dominic hiding from? Ancient history covered layers deep in lies, that’s what. The lies that have made him into who he is now. Looking back to the boy he was then is like falling down the rabbit hole, into a place where nothing is familiar.
Once he breathed, slept and ate in a different life, he followed different rules, he answered to different masters.
When he looks in the mirror now, he can’t see any trace of the person he was then. That boy has been dead for years and Dominic’s finding it difficult to resurrect him. Gabriel Felix, spliced from his old roots, transplanted, watered, allowed to grow and to build a new history.
That’s what he tells Harriet and Gavin: the story of his life after they were separated that night. A muscle works in his jaw. This is who he has been for so many years, he says to Harriet. Dominic Groome. Father deceased and, until recently, no mother, no siblings. Just him, making his way through the world, holding in his secrets, holding back the truth.
Harriet is so angry, she can barely speak. How could she do that to you? she wants to know. Why didn’t she come for you? I mean, I know, or at least I can understand, why she might have decided not to look for me. I was adopted. I landed luckily and happily, they found me a good family. But you? All those years in that place?
I couldn’t understand that either, Dominic (who is Gabriel when he talks to his sister) says. I was angry with her too, for a long time. And then, Harry, I found her. Or Sebastian Crown did. A tall, skinny lady in a bed in a state psychiatric hospital.
They were kind to her, in their fashion, Dominic tells her. They called her ‘The Great Escaper’ in her early days there. Each time she tried to get away, it was because she was looking for her son and daughter. They’d find her on the streets, talking to strangers.
Do you know my son, she’d be asking. Have you seen my daughter? I’m looking for Gabriel. He’s got Harry. He’s looking after Harry. He’s my Little Man.
The nurses would approach her quietly, but she’d always spot them and start running, her long legs pumping in baggy tracksuit pants, bare feet hitting city pavements.
She never got away though, Dominic tells Harry.
As she grew older, she gave up trying. Instead, each time a new patient was admitted she’d make a beeline for them. Have you seen my son? Do you know my daughter?
Harry’s crying now. Gabriel puts his arm around her shoulder and hugs her tightly.
She did care about us, Harry.
When he got to her, he continues, she had a small box under her bed, filled with her precious bits. A photograph, similar to the one Gabriel had found in his envelope, the edge of a baby’s blanket, and letters. So many letters, scrawled on scraps of paper. Their contents were heartbreaking: My darlings, Mum’s coming. Dearest Gaby-Baby, Where are you, my little man? Look after Harriet for Mummy and Daddy.
They kept her quite heavily medicated, Gabriel tells Harriet, and most of the time she was placid enough. You don’t remember her, Harry, but our mum was gentle. And kind. When I spoke to the doctors and the ward staff, they said the only times she became agitated, aggressive even, were when someone tried to take her box away. She took to carrying it around with her. She’d show the other patients the photo of three of us, but I was so little and you, Harry, well, you were just a baby wrapped in a blanket. Nobody would have recognised us, but she never stopped trying.
One of the nurses, Nurse Daniels, did her best to help. She had retired by the time I found Mum, but the hospital gave me her address.
She was living in a place called Silver Oaks and she was delighted to meet me. She remembered Mum so fondly, Harry. She found out what had happened to me, went to the children’s home, asked to see me, to tell me that Mum was trying her best to get me back. She wanted to let me know that Mum cared, that she hadn’t given up on us. They never let her see me, though. She wasn’t a family member, they said. Mum wasn’t of sound mind, she’d never be well enough to look after me. Why make things worse than they were? They had to be cruel to be kind, that’s what they told her. Nurse Daniels gave in; she never told Mum that she’d tracked me down. Instead, the day after she found me, she picked her a small posy. Lavender and rosemary and some bright red poppies. Oh, she gave me the sweetest smile, Nurse Daniels said, and as she spoke, I remembered Mum smiling, laughing even. I wish you’d known her, Harry. Before.
Gabriel’s holding Harry’s hand now, pressing it gently.
Most days she knows who I am, Harry. She gets tired and confused, can’t hang on to what happened a few hours ago very well, but she knows me. And if you come with me, and they tell her who you are … It’s not too late. I’ve been visiting her every Sunday for the last few months, and I go to see Nurse Daniels, too. She’s convinced it would do Mum the world of good to see you. And it might be good for you, too.