LACEY arrived just after lunch, and booked into her hotel.
To her surprise, the receptionist on duty recognised her from previous brief stays when she had visited Jessica, and welcomed her with a warm smile.
It was a small family-run hotel outside the city in what had once been a large private house. The Victorian building was solid, its basic ugliness cloaked by the climbers that softened its walls.
Her room overlooked the gardens, where azaleas and rhododendrons were just beginning to be past their best.
She felt drained and slightly disorientated. In her bathroom she ran cold water over her wrists, hoping to shock her system back to its normal stability, but it only made her shiver.
She had no idea where Jessica would be—if she would be in a lecture or at home, studying in the house she shared with two other girls and two boys.
She gnawed on her bottom lip, wincing as she realised how often she must have been doing so when her sore flesh stung a little.
Perhaps if she drove over to the house…
The terraced house the students shared was only small, but, as Jessica had earnestly pointed out to her mother when she’d announced that the five of them intended to buy rather than rent the property, it would show a good return on their investment when, at the end of their university days, they decided to either sell it or let it to other students.
Lacey had been faintly awestruck by her daughter’s financial perspicacity. This generation was so very different from her own, so very well aware of financial matters in a way she could not remember being shared by her peers. The money for the mortgage came not from Jessica’s grant, but from what she earned during her holidays, and Lacey had only been able to blink a little and respect her daughter’s acumen while at the same time worrying about her taking on a financial burden which might interfere with her studies.
One of the two boys who shared the house opened the door to Lacey, and told her that Jessica did not have a lecture that afternoon as far as he knew but that she had mentioned spending some time in the university library.
‘She said she would be in for tea. It’s my turn to cook.’ He pulled a wry face, and then added, ‘Would you like to wait here for her?’
‘No. No, I’ll come back later,’ Lacey told him.
He frowned a little as he watched her walk back to her car, wondering what was wrong. He had only met her once before and on that occasion had been surprised by her obvious youth. Then later, when Jessica had talked openly of her birth and upbringing, he had been filled with admiration for all that both Jessica and her mother had achieved.
He wondered if he should perhaps have insisted on Lacey’s staying, on offering her a cup of tea. She had, he recognised, looked very pale.
With time on her hands and nothing to fill it, on impulse Lacey drove out into the country, parked her car, and got out to walk along one of the many footpaths.
It was a silent, secret place; a place where nature was always on hand to reinforce the knowledge that it was she who was the true power that governed man and womankind. Nature. Man could never truly force her to his bidding but merely seek to tame her a little, to harness her power but never to control it. It was nature that was responsible for her being here…nature that was responsible for the news she must break to Jessica.
How had Lewis felt when he had first learned the truth?
How had his mother felt when she had found out? His mother. Lewis had once told her that his relationship with his mother had been far from easy; that she had never allowed him the closeness with her that he had sometimes craved. She had been a very withdrawn person, he had told Lacey, and as he himself had matured he had often wondered if her withdrawal from him had been caused by the divorce between her and his father.
She had never remarried, choosing to remain alone, either because she had still loved his father, as Lacey had always believed, or because she had dreaded having another child…another son.
And Lewis’s father; he had deserted his wife and child when Lewis was very young; had, according to Lewis, emigrated to Australia, where he had effectively disappeared.
With the sensitivity of a woman in love, Lacey had guessed how much his desertion had hurt Lewis, and had tentatively suggested that, now that he was adult, it might be time for him to lay the ghosts of his past, to try to trace his father.
Privately she had not been able to imagine how any parent could turn his or her back on their child. Not then. And she had been quietly convinced that Lewis’s father would welcome an approach from his adult son, had privately believed that it must be the bitterness in the relationship between husband and wife which had been responsible for holding him aloof from his child.
She had never known whether or not Lewis had followed her gentle urging to try to trace his father. Several weeks after that discussion Lewis had told her that their marriage was over; that he had found someone else.
In the distance, a bird rose from the trees, wheeling and circling overhead, its thin, keening cry piercing her self-control. She felt her eyes blur with tears, her throat close in a hard lump of emotion. She had never felt more alone in her life, not even when she’d discovered that Lewis no longer wanted her, not even when she’d known that she was pregnant.
There was no easy way of completing the task that lay ahead of her.
She glanced at her watch. It was time to go back.
SHE HAD TIMED her return well. Jessica was back. She came to open the door even before Lacey was out of the car, running towards her, frowning a little as she demanded, ‘What’s happened, Ma? What’s wrong?’ She stopped abruptly on the pavement as she registered the strain on Lacey’s face, and Lacey felt her heart turn over inside her as Jessica suddenly gripped her arm and said quietly, ‘It’s him, isn’t it? My father…Has something happened? Is he…?’
Lacey wondered if she looked as shaken as she felt.
‘No. No, Lewis is fine,’ she assured Jessica immediately, unaware of what she was betraying in the shock of Jessica’s perception. ‘I…I think we should go back to my hotel, Jess. There’s something I have to tell you, and I think…’
‘Come on, then,’ Jessica said quietly. ‘And, Ma, I think I’d better drive.’
It didn’t take long to drive back to the hotel, both of them silent, both of them gravely serious as they walked upstairs together.
Once they were in Lacey’s room, Jessica stood beside her and demanded huskily, ‘What is it, Ma? I know it must be something serious. I’ve never seen you like this before. You look like…’ She stopped and swallowed. ‘If it isn’t about him, my father, then…’She paused and joked weakly, ‘You haven’t come all the way here to tell me that you’re pregnant or something, have you?’
Lacey shook her head, too heartsick to remonstrate with her. ‘Let’s sit down, Jess,’ she began.
She went through it as quickly and as methodically as she could, telling her daughter everything that Lewis had told her, but omitting Lewis’s suggestion that she might want to be sterilised, saying firmly instead that, while she knew it was a shock, Jessica must remember how many advances medical science had made, and that she mustn’t feel that even if she did carry the malfunctioning gene it would not mean that she couldn’t have children.
‘No, just that I can’t have sons,’ Jessica responded bleakly.
For a moment both of them were silent, and then Jessica said huskily, ‘What I can’t understand is why he never told you this before. Why…’
Lacey shook her head. ‘He didn’t know, apparently.’
‘How did he find out—about me, I mean? How did he…?’
Confused that Jessica seemed more interested in talking about her father than in discussing the consequences of what she had had to tell her, and worried that such lack of interest might dangerously spring from shock and a refusal to face up to reality, Lacey explained quickly what had happened.
‘You mean, that was him…in the restaurant…the night…? He was the man I pointed out to you?’
‘The good-looking one. Yes,’ Lacey agreed grimly. ‘I recognised him immediately, but I didn’t think he’d seen us or recognised me.’
‘And you never said. You never would have said a word if this hadn’t happened.’
Lacey felt her heart twist with pain as she recognised the accusation in Jessica’s voice. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I was just so shocked. I…’
‘You wanted to protect me from being rejected the way he rejected you,’Jessica said for her, her expression softening. ‘I know you didn’t do it out of malice, Ma. You’re far too compassionate…far too soft and gentle for anything like that.’
‘Jess, there are tests you should have…things we ought to find out…’Lacey pointed out quietly to her, trying to remind her of why she was here.
‘It’s all right, Ma. I’m not trying to evade the issue or to pretend that it hasn’t happened. It is a shock, but it’s much, much better to know now. I just need a bit of time to come to terms with it, that’s all. You needn’t worry that I’m going to pretend that none of this has happened…to push it to the back of my mind and bury it there. It’s just…It’s just…’
‘Such a shock,’ Lacey supplied huskily for her. ‘I know that, my darling…’
‘And he…my father…he just told you and that was it, was it? There was no mention of him…?’
‘He did offer to tell you,’ Lacey admitted honestly. ‘He…I think he was totally devastated to discover that you were his child. He told me that he’d had a vasectomy. He…he also said that when he married me he didn’t know…didn’t realise.’
‘Did you believe him?’
Lacey shrugged her shoulders. ‘I think I was too shocked to take it all in…When he demanded to know if you were his child my first thought was—’
‘What—that he wanted to steal me away from you like the gypsies?’ Jessica teased with a flash of her natural ebullience. ‘I think I’m rather large to be a snatched baby, Ma! Is he married? Does he have other children?’
Lacey frowned. Jessica’s curiosity about Lewis, while natural, was making her feel very apprehensive.
‘I…No, to both your questions. I’ve arranged to take a few days off to stay here. I didn’t know if you’d prefer to arrange to have the necessary tests done somewhere anonymous. Ian could of course do them, but perhaps—’
‘I’m not going to hide it, Ma, either from myself or from anyone else. And it is, after all, Ian’s field. I’d be a fool not to go to an acknowledged expert. If you could arrange something for when I come home at half-term…
‘My father—where…is he still in town?’
‘I have no idea.’She started to tremble suddenly, causing Jessica to frown and focus on her.
‘I’m sorry, Ma. I know all this must have come as just as much of a shock to you as it has done to me.’
If only you knew, Lacey thought, watching her. If only she could be the one to bear the burden for her, her precious child. She felt so guilty, so responsible, so helpless, and she also felt ridiculously resentful of the way Jessica kept on turning to the subject of her father. Always in the past she had seemed quite happy not to discuss him; had even said that she felt no curiosity about him, no interest in him, that he was not and never could be a part of her life.
‘There’s really no need for you to stay on here, you know,’ Jessica told her, making her flinch with pain. ‘I know what you’re like, Ma,’ she added more gently. ‘I know you want to protect me, to make things right for me, but can’t you see. This is something I have to sort out on my own, to come to terms with by myself. I can’t use you as an emotional crutch for the rest of my life. This is my problem, not yours.’
Lacey flinched again, protesting huskily, ‘Jess, I’m your mother—’
‘I know. I know, but please let me deal with this in my own way, Ma. I promise you I’m not going to do anything silly. I shan’t even go out and get drunk. It’s a shock, but right now it isn’t the most important thing in my life; right now getting married and having babies is the last thing on my mind. When the time comes—well, by that time I’ll have got used to the idea. I do want children—but not yet. Don’t think I’m trying to avoid facing up to it, though. I will have the tests done.’
She gave Lacey a fierce hug and said shakily, ‘I’m sorry, Ma. I’m hurting you, I know. I don’t want to, but I’m not a little girl any more. I know you’re afraid for me, that you want to make things right for me, but please…try to have a little more faith in me…in the values you yourself have given me. Try to allow me to face this on my own.’
‘Do I have to leave now, or will first thing in the morning do?’ Lacey asked her, trying to sound light-hearted, but knowing that her misery was betrayed by her voice.
Now it was Jessica’s turn to wince. ‘Please, Ma,’ she begged, and immediately Lacey felt ashamed of herself.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ she apologised, hugging her. ‘You’re quite right—I am being too protective. Very well, I’ll go home, but promise me if you want me or need me for anything you’ll ring me.’
‘I’ll ring you on Saturday morning, just so that you’ll know I haven’t done anything silly,’Jessica reassured her, adding, ‘Look, come back to the house with me now. It’s Mike’s night to cook, and I think he’s got a bit of a thing about you.’ She grinned at her mother. ‘He told me that you looked too thin. He sounded very disapproving, as though it was my fault. Come back with me, Ma.’
Lacey almost refused. The last thing she felt like was a convivial evening with a crowd of youngsters, but wisely she ignored her own feelings and needs.
This was the time to show Jessica that she respected her judgement, she knew she was now an adult, that she accepted her right to make her own decisions about the way she lived her life.
‘Well, if you’re sure there’ll be enough food for an extra mouth…’
‘I’m sure,’ Jessica assured her. As she opened the bedroom door, she turned back to her mother and said seriously, ‘Don’t think I don’t appreciate what you’ve done, Ma…or what you must be feeling, and don’t think I don’t realise how difficult all this must be for you. I’m sorry if I’m hurting you, but—’
‘Don’t say any more, Jess. I do understand. You’re a young woman now, an adult. What is Mike cooking for supper, by the way?’
‘Something with pasta.’
‘Mmm…’
In the end the evening went far better than she had expected. Lacey even discovered herself laughing as she joined in the conversation around the table, forgetting for a handful of brief seconds what had brought her to Oxford, but then she would remember, and her eyes would cloud slightly, and she would have to remind herself that for Jessica’s sake, if nothing else, she must not give in to her emotions.
It was gone eleven when she left, having refused a nightcap, and having thanked Mike for her supper.
‘I’ll be in touch on Saturday, Ma,’ Jessica told her as she walked out to her car with her.
They hugged one another, and then Lacey got into her car. She would not cry, she told herself severely as she started the engine…or at least not until Jessica could not see her doing so.
FOR THE REST of the week Lacey was tense and on edge, reluctant to be out of earshot of the telephone for too long, unable to relax properly or indeed to eat or sleep properly either.
The effect on her nervous system was inevitably adding to the stress she was already under.
By Saturday morning she was ready to acknowledge that perhaps it would have been wiser to cancel her leave and go back to work where at least she would have had to force herself to concentrate on her work.
All day Saturday she refused to leave the house in case Jessica phoned while she was out, and at four o’clock in the afternoon she finally gave in to the need which had been savaging her all week, and dialled Jessica’s number.
It was Mike who answered the phone, greeting her warmly when she gave her name, but when she asked for Jessica he hesitated a little and then told her, ‘I’m sorry, they’re not back yet.’
‘They?’
‘Yes. Jessica’s father picked her up this morning.’
Jessica’s father… Lewis!
It was only later that Lacey realised that she must have replaced the receiver without saying a single word of explanation to Mike, but at the same time she had been so shocked, so disbelieving of what he had told her and yet also so aware that in some way his words had only confirmed a fear that had been hounding her all week, that she had been unable to articulate a single word of normal conversation.
She stood beside her phone, her whole body trembling. Lewis and Jessica…How? her heart jumped in sudden protective terror. Was Lewis trying to persuade Jessica to follow his own example to ensure that she would never have any children? If so…
She realised that she had curled her fingers into angry claws, that her whole body was tense with anger…an anger she wasn’t sure was directed at Lewis alone.
Jessica was her daughter, her child. Lewis had had no part in her upbringing…in her life.
Sickened by her own reaction, she walked into her kitchen. She was jealous, she acknowledged shakily. Jealous of her daughter’s love.
She had to sit down before her legs gave way beneath her. She felt horribly weak, her body a frail, empty vessel which was threatening to let her down with its physical weakness.
How could Jessica have gone with him? Surely she must have known how worried her mother would be when she didn’t phone? Surely she must have realised she would ring…would find out?
There was a bitter taste in her mouth. What was she thinking…doing? She hated herself for the traits she was suddenly betraying; for the abyss which seemed to have opened up at her feet.
There was a mirror in the hallway. She found herself walking towards it, standing in front of it and searching her reflection, as though she could find it in some evidence of the horror she could feel, some evidence of the warped and bitter personality traits she was suddenly revealing.
How could she be feeling like this, she who had always encouraged Jessica to make her own friends, to have her own life, who had refused to try to tie her daughter to her with any kind of emotional blackmail, who had genuinely rejoiced in her daughter’s independence of spirit?
How often had she heard her friends praising her for refusing to fall into the trap confronting so many single parents: allowing Jessica to become too dependent on her?
And yet here she was, sick with the very worst kind of jealousy, sick with suspicion and bitterness, and all because Jessica was with Lewis.
Lewis. There was a knife-twist of pain somewhere deep inside her, an awareness of great sorrow, an acknowledgement that, no matter how much it might hurt her, father and daughter would be curious about one another…would want to meet…to talk.
Although Lacey had never tried to hide from Jessica how much her divorce had hurt her, neither had she tried to blacken Lewis’s name to Jessica.
People did fall out of love, she had explained gently when Jessica had been too young to understand the complexity of adult emotions and had asked why she had no daddy.
All the time she had been growing up, Jessica had insisted that she wanted nothing of her father. Had she lied…lied to protect her, her mother…?
In her heart of hearts, didn’t Lacey acknowledge that it was only natural that Jessica should be curious about Lewis? Perhaps out of love, out of loyalty, she had suppressed that curiosity. But now, confronted by the necessity almost of discovering as much as she could about her own medical history, hadn’t she had the ideal excuse…the ideal reason for allowing herself to get to know more about her father?
She tried to put herself in Jessica’s shoes and had to acknowledge that, had her father turned up on her doorstep without warning, she too would not have been able to resist the temptation to talk with him.
No; the fault, the blame, lay not with Jessica but with Lewis.
He had no desire to come between her and their daughter, he had said. When had he changed his mind, or had he simply lied to her all along? And she, gullible fool that she was—that she had always been—had believed him.
Where were they…what had he said to Jessica? If he had said anything to hurt her…to make her afraid…if he had tried to persuade her to follow his own example and deny herself the joy of ever having a child…
She was, she discovered, almost wringing her hands as her mind fed on her fears, acting like a forcing house on them so that there was no room for anything else.
The phone rang. She snatched up the receiver, her hand trembling, but it was only Ian, telephoning to confirm that he had made arrangements for Jessica to have the necessary tests during her half-term break.
‘She might not even have inherited the rogue gene,’ he reminded Lacey gently. ‘But of course it is best to be sure.’
She had of course had to explain the whole situation to him. Previously he had known nothing of her past, other than the fact that she was divorced. She had always had a horror of revealing the truth to others, of encouraging their pity.
‘I was wondering if you were free this evening,’ Ian continued uncertainly. ‘There’s a new restaurant, just opened—’
‘I’m sorry, Ian, but I’m expecting a call from Jessica this evening,’ Lacey interrupted him.
‘Well, perhaps another time, then.’
As she replaced the receiver, Lacey told herself guiltily that she was being unfair to him and perhaps to herself. He was a kind, gentle man; the type of man many, many women would have been delighted to have as a potential husband; so why was she so unable to feel anything for him other than friendship and liking?
Sexually he did nothing for her at all. No one did.
No one. Again she felt that knife-like pain slice through her. She was lying to herself and she knew it. She had only had to see Lewis to reactivate all her old physical awareness of him…her physical longing for him.
It had shocked her how strong that longing had been, how sharp-edged and bitingly, searingly keen. Stronger than logic or reality; stronger than reason and self-respect.
As she waited for Jessica to ring, she promised herself that when she did she would say nothing about Lewis…that she would not react with jealousy and bitterness, with accusations. She must try to see things from Jessica’s point of view, to remind herself that Lewis was Jessica’s father and that the discovery…
What was she so afraid of, after all? That their shared medical history would give them a bond from which she was excluded? That Jessica would turn away from her and to her father, sharing with him her inevitable fears and doubts about the future?
At eight o’clock the phone rang again and this time it was Jessica.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t ring earlier, Ma.’
Was her voice different…guarded almost…or was Lacey looking for problems which did not exist? Was she being over-sensitive, Lacey wondered as she tried to sound as normal and natural as possible.
‘I’ve been out…’ Jessica’s voice faded a little as though she had turned away from the phone. ‘I…I’ve been with Lewis…my father.’
Lacey realised she had been holding her breath, dreading Jessica’s not telling her, or even worse lying to her. Now she felt both relief and guilt. How could she have so little faith in her own daughter? Why was she behaving so suspiciously…so…so jealously?
Her attitude wasn’t only demeaning to herself, it was demeaning to Jessica as well. And to Lewis…didn’t it equally demean him?
‘Yes; yes. Mike said you’d gone out with your father.’ She tried to sound breezy, unconcerned, and knew she was failing when her voice sharpened as she couldn’t stop herself from adding, ‘I must say I was surprised that he’d been in touch with you, especially when we’d both agreed that it would be better if I was the one to tell you.’
There was a small pause and then Jessica said quietly, ‘He didn’t get in touch with me, Ma. I got in touch with him. I phoned Ian’s secretary during the week and got his home address from her, and then I rang him. I’m sorry; I know how you must feel. I wanted to tell you…to discuss it with you, but…’
But she had been afraid of how she would react, Lacey recognised bleakly.
It was time to control her own emotions, to make good the damage they had already done before it became irreparable. It was time for her to show not only generosity but wisdom and far-sightedness as well.
Lacey took a deep breath and said as quietly as she could, ‘He is your father, Jess. I do understand how much…how curious you must have been about him. In your shoes I’m sure I’d have done the same thing, and you do…’ she stumbled a little and then managed to continue ‘…and you do potentially share a bond. Well, I can understand that you might rather have talked to…to your father about things…than to me. After all, he has a personal knowledge of the situation that I—’
‘Ma, please don’t make me feel even worse than I do already,’ Jessica pleaded, her voice half choked by tears. ‘It wasn’t that; and as for any bond that might exist between us…You are my mother; Lewis…I can’t call him “Dad”—I can’t even really think of him in that context…not yet. I don’t know why I felt such a deep-rooted need to contact him, or what I was looking for…’ She stumbled, and Lacey’s heart ached for her, for them both. Please don’t let him hurt her, she pleaded silently.
Please don’t let him allow her to believe he cares about her and then reject her.
‘He’s a very lonely man, Ma,’ Jessica told her chokily. ‘The woman he left you for…I don’t think they can have stayed together long. He never mentioned her…never talked about her, but he never stopped talking about you…about—’
She had to intervene.
‘Jess, it’s all right,’ she interrupted. ‘I do understand. He’s your father and I’ve never wanted you to hate him. He is, after all, a part of you, but you mustn’t…There’s no need for you to try and justify his actions to me. Our relationship, his and mine…it was over a long time ago. Your relationship with him is just beginning.’
They talked for another half-hour or so, and when she had replaced the receiver Lacey was conscious of a great burden of sadness which at the same time was edged with the knowledge that she had done the right thing in removing from Jessica any guilt she might have felt at contacting her father. The strain, the tension, had gone from her daughter’s voice once she’d realised that Lacey was not going to protest at what she had done.
Perhaps this was one of the greatest gifts she could give her daughter, she acknowledged wearily later over her solitary supper—the freedom to openly explore and begin her own relationship with her father without the taint of any bitterness of opposition from her mother. Yes, she had done the right thing…but at what personal cost!
Tiredly she pushed her uneaten supper away from her. She felt both exhausted and restless at the same time, shaky with nervous tension, and very much alone. She looked at the phone, half wishing it were not too late to ring Ian and tell him that she had changed her mind.
Perhaps, after all, it was time for her to cut herself free of the past, to stop indulging in foolish daydreams of something that could never be, and accept instead the realities of what life could offer her. There was no point in wishing what was done undone, in wanting to turn back the clock to a time before Lewis had re-entered their lives…or rather Jessica’s life, she corrected herself miserably. She ought to feel joy for Jessica instead of concentrating on her own pain. She had heard her daughter’s voice, her happiness at discovering her father, and she could not, must not spoil that happiness. She must not let her own feelings create a barrier between them…a schism of misunderstanding and jealousy.
Ten o’clock. Perhaps if she had an early night…The weather forecast was good. She could spend tomorrow in the garden, working. The wooden seat needed a coat of preservative, there was weeding to be done, plants to be thinned out. Plenty of work to occupy her hands. But nothing to occupy her mind. Nothing to stop her thinking about Jessica…about Lewis. Nothing to stop her from remembering how threatened…how alone…how shut out she had felt when Mike had told her that Jessica had gone out with her father. She had experienced jealousy before; the deep, agonising jealousy of knowing that her husband, her lover preferred another woman, but never had she expected to feel jealous of her own daughter…to wish passionately that…
That what? That Lewis had wanted to spend the day with her! Her eyes filled with bitter shadows as she washed up, and then Lacey made her way upstairs.