‘How did you find out?’ I asked Greg the second he came through the door that evening.
After reading his message at the restaurant I’d tried to call him, but it went straight to voicemail. I’d returned to the shoot on autopilot, my mind buzzing. The fact Greg had found an address for Colleen suddenly made her more real somehow. I could meet her, get to know her, make her part of my life, and I couldn’t wait to start.
Greg hung up his jacket and dropped his laptop bag at the foot of the stairs. ‘Give me a second,’ he said, rather tersely. He was home earlier than usual and picked up Maisie, swinging her round until she squealed. ‘What’s for dinner?’ he said. ‘I’m starving.’
‘Never mind dinner. I can’t believe you’ve left me hanging for hours,’ I said. ‘Couldn’t you have called me back?’
‘I knew you were busy, and anyway, it wasn’t something we could discuss easily over the phone.’ He hoisted Maisie onto his shoulders and strode into the kitchen, pretending to look outraged when he realised the oven was cold. ‘I fancied roast chicken with all the trimmings,’ he said, spinning around, while Maisie shrieked and clutched at his hair.
‘Ha, ha, very funny.’ I grabbed a couple of ready meals from the fridge and slid them into the microwave. It was a running joke that although I photographed food for a living, I’d never quite mastered the art of cooking it.
‘Now tell me,’ I prodded Greg, once Maisie was settled with her colouring book and crayons, and we were sitting at the dining table with our supermarket ‘finest’ shepherd’s pie and glasses of wine. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d eaten together this early in the evening. ‘Where does Colleen live?’
Greg played at sipping his wine and savouring his first mouthful of dinner. He closed his eyes and smacked his lips together.
‘Greg!’ He appeared to be enjoying himself a bit too much. ‘Tell me, or I’ll stab you with my fork.’
‘Not in front of Maisie,’ he said with a grin. He put down his glass and leaned closer. ‘A bloke at work has got this new facial recognition app. They’re normally pretty bad, bringing up all kinds of weird and wonderful people, but because the Facebook photo of Colleen was so clear, it brought up one of her with her husband at an official-looking function. He’s called Jake Harper, he’s a surgeon, and they live in Waterford.’
‘Oh my God.’ I was silent for a moment, trying to take it in. ‘Where’s Waterford?’
‘It’s a county in southeast Ireland,’ he said, looking gratified at my response, and I briefly wondered whether his reluctance yesterday had been more about him wanting to take control of the situation.
‘Waterford,’ I repeated, feeling stunned. I have a sister. She lives in Waterford, with her husband, Jake. My brother-in-law.
‘It looks like a nice place.’ Greg finished his wine and sat forward again, helping himself to my untouched plate of food. ‘Founded by the Vikings.’
I couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Do they have children?’
His eyebrows dipped. ‘Not that I know of.’
‘Do you have an exact address?’
After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded, a lock of hair falling forward, giving him a rakish look. ‘They’re on the electoral roll.’
I slumped back in my chair. ‘What did people do before the internet was invented?’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Mum could have found her any time, if she’d wanted.’
‘Well, she clearly didn’t want to.’
I couldn’t think about that. I tucked Greg’s words to the back of my mind and fired up my laptop. I wanted to see a picture of Waterford for myself. I wanted to see Colleen again. ‘Can I look at the photo of them?’
‘If you want to.’ Greg joined me on the sofa, pulling Maisie onto his lap. ‘He works at a hospital over there, and he’s written a couple of papers, medical stuff, so his name was linked to those.’ He blew a raspberry on Maisie’s neck and she wriggled.
‘Daddy, you stop it.’ She giggled, clambering across him to grab my laptop. ‘Want to see penguins,’ she said, trying to swivel the screen to face her. She was obsessed with penguins, after seeing a film about them at nursery.
‘Not just now, darling,’ I said, wrenching the laptop out of her sticky grasp. ‘Finish colouring in your lovely picture.’
‘Don’t want to.’ She stuck her bottom lip out and folded her arms, glowering at me. ‘Want penguins.’ Her eyes were dark smudges in her oval face.
‘Someone’s tired,’ I said.
‘I think it might be time for a bath.’ Greg gathered her against his chest. ‘We can play submarines.’
She cheered up instantly. ‘Yay! Sumbarines,’ she said, getting the word wrong in a way that made me smile. She was so adorable. How could Mum have given her daughter away? I quickly banished the thought and opened my laptop as Greg and Maisie headed upstairs.
‘Don’t go online until we’re done,’ he called, as if it had just occurred to him. ‘I want to be with you when you do.’
But it was too late. Instead of looking for the picture of Colleen with her husband, I logged straight in to Facebook. ‘Greg, she’s replied!’ I shouted, and he thundered back with Maisie on his back.
‘You are joking?’
‘No, I’m not!’ I pointed to the screen. ‘Look!’
He hushed Maisie, who was protesting and pulling at his shirt as he sat beside me. ‘What does she say?’ he said, sounding almost cross. He had such a straightforward relationship with his own siblings that my discovery that Colleen existed must seem like a television drama.
Choosing to ignore his tone, I opened up her message, my eyes dancing over the words twice to take them in properly. ‘Oh God, Greg, she sounds amazing.’ A stinging behind my nose signalled tears. ‘She’s seems to have taken the news in her stride, even though she didn’t know about me.’
‘Let’s have a look.’ Greg leaned over, eyes scanning the message already imprinted on my brain. ‘She didn’t know about your mum either, by the sound of it.’ I felt him glance at me. ‘I knew it would be too much,’ he said flatly. ‘I told you to take it slowly.’
‘I can’t believe she’s really there.’ I wiped away a tear with my finger.
‘Actually, she isn’t,’ Greg pointed out, jiggling Maisie on his lap. ‘She’s travelling. She’s not even in the country at the moment.’
‘But she’ll be back soon.’ I began reading bits aloud. ‘She’s a film editor! And she’s quite sporty, always jumping out of aeroplanes.’ I glanced at Greg, but couldn’t read his expression, and wondered why he’d bothered to tell me he’d found her address, if he was worried about me finding her. ‘She’s nothing like me,’ I said, feeling an odd little ache inside as my eyes were drawn back to the screen. It wasn’t as if Colleen and I were twins, but I’d hoped we’d have more in common.
‘You both have freckles,’ Greg said, grudgingly.
I managed a smile. ‘She’ll be sad to hear that Mum has … passed away.’ I still couldn’t bring myself to say ‘dead’. ‘She’s bound to want to meet her.’
‘Not necessarily. Not if her adoptive parents were good people.’ Greg looked at Maisie, who’d wriggled off his lap and gone back to her colouring, the tip of her tongue poking out in concentration. ‘She might not even be interested in knowing about her birth parents.’
I knew he was probably just trying to help, to save me from getting hurt – I couldn’t think of any other reason for the reluctance that had crept into his voice – but I felt as if I was on a roller coaster that had already started to climb. ‘I have to reply,’ I said, making my mind up. Colleen had forwarded her mobile number, but if she was travelling it would be easier to communicate online until she returned.
‘I’ll get Maisie ready for bed.’ Greg stood abruptly and I felt a chill where he’d been sitting. ‘Say night, night to Mummy.’ He dangled Maisie in front of me, as if to remind me of what was important – not that I needed reminding. I rubbed noses with my daughter and exchanged ten kisses, and promised to go up and read her a story as soon as she’d had her bath. ‘Are you coming to help?’
‘I’ll be up shortly,’ I said, choosing not to ignore the challenge in his voice, and once they’d left, opened up Facebook once more and began to write, my heart keeping rhythm with my fingers.
Thank you so much for replying, Colleen. You sound so calm about it all! I think I’m still in shock to be honest, but VERY excited about us getting to know each other. Your life sounds quite different from mine. Perhaps you take after your father :o) I’m afraid our mother passed away a few months ago, after a long illness. That’s how I came across you, while going through her things. I miss her very much. She was a wonderful person. Tears threatened again, but I blinked them away. I don’t know why she gave you up, but there must have been a strong reason. I so hope you had a happy childhood. I was worried my news would cause some sort of fallout, and I’m happy that’s not the case.
My hands faltered as something occurred to me. Nowhere in her message had she mentioned her husband, Jake. Perhaps they were divorced and that was why she was in America. Or maybe her job took her to different countries and they spent a lot of time apart. Recalling Greg’s creeping reluctance, doubt whispered through my mind, and switching to Google, I typed in her married name and added film editor. It would be interesting to see if any well-known films had her name attached, but there was only one Colleen Harper, linked to a film in 2003 I’d never heard of, listed as ‘miscellaneous crew’. There was no image, so I had no idea whether or not it was her, but the date probably ruled her out. She’d have been still in her teens back then, but maybe she worked under a different name.
On impulse, I tried Colleen Harper skydiving, knowing it was silly, and wasn’t surprised when nothing relevant came up, and when I added Waterford, Ireland, for my next search, the only result was a collection of crystal drinkware. I chewed my lip for a moment. It was unusual for someone Colleen’s age to not have an internet presence, other than a Facebook account, but not impossible, and there could be a good reason why. I was probably searching the wrong name. Switching back to my message, I carried on writing.
I am married, by the way, and yes, he’s very handsome, but I would say that. He’s called Greg, and we have a three-year-old daughter called Maisie and we live in Surrey. I’m so looking forward to you coming back from America, and hope we can get together when you do. Have you worked on any films I’ve heard of, by the way?! What name do you go by, these days? Are you married? Decided not to ask about children – it could be a sensitive topic for all I knew – I looked again at how she’d signed off: Your loving sister, Colleen x
She sounded so caring. Maybe she’d felt an instant connection, as I had. I liked that she’d said ‘sister’ instead of half-sister. It had to be a good sign. When I thought of how it could have gone … I shuddered, imagining a very different message – one telling me to shove off and that she didn’t want anything to do with me, and before I could overthink it quickly typed: Look forward to hearing more from my brand-new sister! Love, Ella x
It sounded a bit twee, and not very me, but it would be easier once we’d met to put real meaning behind my words. At the moment she was still an abstract, a wonderful discovery – a possibility, rather than a living, breathing person.
After I’d pressed Send I sat back, feeling drained. Outside, the light was fading and I got up and drew the curtains and switched on the television, with a sudden longing for normality. But the sound was too intrusive so I turned it off again. I thought about work, and a couple of jobs I had lined up, but they seemed trivial and insubstantial.
Recalling Greg’s subdued reaction, after his initial rush of enthusiasm at finding out where Colleen lived, I made my way upstairs, where Maisie was splashing in the bath, and Greg was making submarine sounds. I’d intended to join them, but found myself circling the bedroom instead, arms wrapped around my waist, heart leaping and racing as my thoughts circled like birds. The sooner I met Colleen the better, because I couldn’t focus on anything else until I did.