‘Hi, Mum! It’s me!’
Stephanie’s heart jumped. She carefully placed the Lasagne on the kitchen bench and turned around to greet Alice.
‘Darling, so good to see you,’ she said, her voice sounding very high pitched. She coughed, hardly able to meet Alice’s eye.
‘Mmm, dinner smells good.’ Alice’s lips curved into a smile.
‘I made it specially,’ said Stephanie, busying herself by reaching into the cupboard for plates. ‘Er... would you like anything to drink?’
‘What have you got?’
‘I have some wine; it’s white. Or, you could have fruit juice; I have orange or cranberry.’ Stephanie had walked over to the fridge and although she had the door open, she was not really looking inside. This is going to be harder than I thought. She could hardly bear to look at Alice, for fear that her guilt would show on her face.
‘I’ll have some wine,’ said Alice.
Alice sat at the kitchen table. ‘How was your day, Mum?’
‘I didn’t go to work today,’ she replied, taking two wine glasses out of the cupboard and placing them on the kitchen table.
‘Oh?’
‘Took the day off.’ She brushed it aside, with a wave of her hand.
‘Lucky for some,’ said Alice. ‘I was at the bookstore today.’
‘Oh, that’s nice,’ Stephanie replied, absent-mindedly, not really having heard what Alice said. She finally took the oven dish to the table and began to serve the food, feeling oddly as if she were in the company of a stranger.
Alice began eating as soon as the food was put in her plate. ‘Mmm, this is delicious.’
Stephanie sat down opposite her, frowning, but trying to smile. She took a sip of wine, hoping that the alcohol would steady her nerves.
‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’
Stephanie almost choked on the mouthful of food she had just taken. She had wanted to wait for the right moment to discuss everything. Washing down the food in her mouth with some wine, she looked at Alice with a concerned frown.
‘It’s about my dad isn’t it?’ Alice mirrored her frown.
Stephanie nodded.
‘I was thinking about this all day,’ said Alice, now fingering the table cloth.
Stephanie feared she might make a hole in the delicate lace, because of the way she was holding the fabric between her fingers. The tablecloth had been a gift from Rita when Stephanie and Roger had married. She only brought it out on special occasions. She had put it on the table today, without thinking; wanting the place to look nice. Now, she regretted using this tablecloth; it held so many memories.
Thankfully, Alice stopped touching the tablecloth and picked up her wine glass. ‘I think I know what you’re going to tell me. I think I’ve worked out why you were so against me trying to find him. You kept saying I’d get hurt.’ She sipped her wine and then placed the glass on the table.
Stephanie’s cheeks reddened. Had Rita said something to her? Had Alice heard more than she let on the last time she was here when Rita was visiting?
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ said Alice, quite unexpectedly.
Stephanie shook her head and stood up. ‘No. He’s not dead. Well... not as far as I know.’ She could not bear to be sitting at that table. Suddenly the room seemed to have no air. She walked over to the window, opened it slightly and stood staring out at the dwindling sunshine over the backs of houses and small square gardens that made up the terraced row where her flat was situated.
Alice stood up. The meal at the table was forgotten it seemed, as both women stood, almost lifeless, like mannequins, not knowing what to say next.
‘You said you had something to tell me that you couldn’t tell me on the phone.’ Alice broke the silence.
Stephanie twirled around towards her. Her face was still flushed despite the cool air that was now circulating in the kitchen. ‘Let’s finish our meal. Then we can talk.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘But it’s Lasagne; your favourite.’
‘I’ll eat it after. I need to know what you were going to say.’ Alice gestured for her mother to sit at the table, and sat back down. She stared at the food now going cold in her plate.
Stephanie took a tissue from the box on the kitchen bench, preparing herself for the tears that she knew would come. She sat opposite Alice and cleared her throat. ‘There’s something you should know. Maybe I should have told you years ago, but you must understand I was trying to do what was best.’ Her eyes began to fill with tears.
‘Okay, what is it?’ Alice shrugged.
‘You know I love you, don’t you, Alice?’
Alice felt embarrassed. She wasn’t used to seeing her mother like this, and although she loved her dearly, it wasn’t something that she ever really said out loud. It was just something that was understood between them. She looked at the small roses on the tablecloth that brought back memories of her youth, when her mother would entertain guests and always insist on using the lace tablecloth. ‘Of course,’ she replied, feeling herself blush.
Stephanie wiped her eyes with the tissue.
‘Why are you crying, Mum?’
Stephanie stood up again and walked back to the kitchen window. What shall I say? Her mind was whirring.
‘Look, whatever you tell me, it won’t make a difference, okay? You’re the one who brought me up, I know that. I’m not suddenly going to leave you for my dad if that’s what you’re worried about.’
Stephanie turned to face her, leaning on the kitchen bench for support. ‘I always wanted to have children. I wanted lots of children. Three or four would have been ideal,’ she began. ‘Your father and I tried to have children for so long. Nothing worked. I went for years hoping and praying for a child, and as I got older it seemed that my dream would pass me by. Alice, please don’t h... hate me,’ her voice broke and she began to cry. She walked over to the kitchen table, taking a few more tissues from the box on the way. When she sat down, she took a deep breath and tried to compose herself.
‘What are you trying to tell me?’ Alice stood up, her brow furrowed. She shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head. ‘Why are you crying? What could be so bad? And... And... why would I hate you? You’re not making any sense.’
‘Okay,’ Stephanie began. ‘Look, sit down, please, and I’ll tell you.’ She closed her eyes.
Alice sat down hesitantly, unsure if she really wanted to hear what she was about to be told.
‘I’m not your mother.’
‘What?’ Alice frowned. Then she smiled. ‘This is a joke, right?’ But, looking at Stephanie’s face she knew it was not a joke.
‘I’m so sorry, darling. I had to tell you in case you found your father and he might have—’
Alice stood up, and then felt light-headed. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I know. I wanted to tell you when you were younger, but your father had left, and there never seemed to be the right moment.’
‘You’re not my mum?’
Stephanie stood up. ‘Well, not biologically. But I brought you up. I was the one who—’
‘Who’s my mum?’
‘That’s not important.’
‘Huh!’ Alice’s face became red. ‘Not important?’
‘You don’t have to know—’
‘I want to know!’ shouted Alice.
‘Please calm down, darling. Oh, I knew this would happen. This is why I never told you before.’
‘You don’t think I have a right to know who my own mum is? Who do you think you are to decide that?’
Stephanie’s mouth fell open.
‘You’ve lied to me for so many years, making me think you’re my mum.’ Confusion swarmed Alice’s brain; it was a surreal conversation, one she’d never have imagined she would ever have. Is this really happening? She held her forehead, and tried to calm down.
‘It wasn’t like that, Alice. The woman who gave birth to you didn’t want you. It was a surrogacy agreement.
I paid her to have a baby for me because I couldn’t have a baby. Do you understand that? I was the one who wanted you. It was only because I wanted a child that you came into the world.’
‘But she’s my mum, not you,’ said Alice, feeling as if the space around her had now become hollow, as if she were floating in a dream. She sat down; the light-headedness was unnerving.
‘Alice, are you okay?’ Stephanie ran towards her and put an arm around her.
She looked at Stephanie, the woman she had called “Mum” for so long. How can she not be my mum? She began to cry, unable to stop the flow.
‘Oh, Alice, don’t cry, I love you. I’ll always love you.’ She stroked Alice’s hair and gave her a tissue to dry her eyes. ‘Sweetheart, go into the front room, and I’ll make us both a cup of tea. We’ll talk about this properly. I’ll explain everything.’
Alice stood up and walked out of the kitchen door, wanting to carry on walking out of the front door and to wherever the road would lead. The shattered pieces of her world remained on the kitchen floor where they had fallen, and she felt that she was trampling on the fragments of hope that lay under her feet. The unexpected revelation had left a bullet hole in her soul. There had been no warning; she had not been able to prepare. How could things ever be the same again?
***
Stephanie walked into the living room carrying two cups of tea. Her hands shook. Alice was on the sofa staring straight ahead. The news had hit her like a thunderbolt. Nothing could have prepared her for hearing that Stephanie was not her real mother. Stephanie was all she had known. Having no father, Alice had felt that the bond between herself and Stephanie was even greater, as they had both been abandoned. But now nothing made sense. There were so many questions in her mind. Why didn’t she ever tell me this before? If I didn’t ask her about my dad, I would never have known.
Stephanie placed the cups of tea on the table in front of Alice. Alice leaned back on the sofa. She didn’t want tea. She looked at Stephanie from the corner of her eye. Stephanie’s eyes were red. She was wiping the corners with a tissue, sniffling. Alice remembered what she had said to her; words floated back into her mind: Your father and I tried to have children for so long.... as I got older it seemed that my dream would pass me by... don’t h... hate me... The woman who gave birth to you didn’t want you. It was a surrogacy agreement. I paid her to have a baby for me... It was only because I wanted a child that you came into the world.
‘How much money did you pay?’ asked Alice.
‘Wh... What, dear?’ Stephanie twisted around on the armchair to face her.
Alice played with the tassels on the cushion that sat beside her on the sofa. ‘You said you paid my mum to have me. How much?’
Stephanie sighed. ‘Why... Why would you want—’
‘Just tell me!’ said Alice, annoyed.
‘One thousand pounds, I think it was...’
‘That’s all? That’s all I was worth? One thousand pounds—’
‘That was a lot of money in those days.’
‘Was it common to buy and sell babies in those days, too?’
‘No.’ Stephanie reached towards the table to get her cup of tea. She didn’t want to drink it and felt sure that even a sip would cause her to throw up, but she felt nervous. It was a distraction. Alice was not taking this well. Stephanie felt almost frightened of what she would do next.
Alice picked up her own tea cup, not knowing why. Then she put it back down on the table abruptly, spilling some of the contents onto the clean white tablecloth below.
Stephanie gasped almost inaudibly.
Alice watched as Stephanie held her cup of tea in her hands; she was visibly trembling. It can’t be easy for her. The thought came into Alice’s mind as she felt a pull of empathy towards Stephanie, but immediately she pushed the emotion aside. Her feelings battled inside her. She loved Stephanie; she had brought her up as her own—but the other side of that story was that Stephanie had lied to her; kept the truth from her. The trust was broken.
‘I am really having a hard time understanding all of this,’ said Alice, holding her forehead.
Stephanie put her cup down on the table. ‘I know. Can you understand why I didn’t tell you before?’
‘No!’ screamed Alice.
‘Alice, please. What I meant to say was... this is why I didn’t tell you. It’s such a hard thing to have to tell someone.’
‘I just feel so unwanted,’ said Alice, standing up. ‘Not only did my dad leave me, but my own mum sold me.’
‘Well, it wasn’t quite like that—’
‘Well, what was it like then?’ She looked down at Stephanie, who appeared small suddenly; sitting there on the armchair, her arms crossed in front of her. ‘You bought me. I was born to be sold!’ She walked towards the window as if in need of air.
‘Alice, you were born because I wanted a child. I love you with all my heart. I couldn’t have children of my own.’
‘Surely there were other ways! Adoption. Did you consider that?’
‘Your father didn’t want to adopt.’
‘But he had a child with a stranger... Wait... was she a stranger? Did you know my mum? What’s her name?’
Stephanie stared at her hands, picking at the corner of her nails where some of her red nail varnish had begun to peel. ‘Her name is Miranda Carey.’
‘Miranda Carey,’ repeated Alice. ‘Where is she now?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Stephanie, holding her breath. This was one of her fears; now Alice would want to find her too. She sighed. ‘Miranda was a student, I met her through Rita. One of Rita’s friends knew her.’
‘Rita knows about this? I thought there was something odd about the way she looks at me.’
‘Rita convinced me to tell you the truth,’ said Stephanie. ‘I was all alone all these years, bringing you up. I didn’t know what to do for the best. If I’d thought it was the right thing to do, I would have told you sooner.’
Alice walked over to the sofa and sat down.
‘Drink your tea, dear; it’ll make you feel better.’
Alice looked at the two cups of tea on the coffee table. She wanted to scream.
‘So, why did Miranda agree to have a baby for money? Why would someone do that?’
‘She was young... A student. She wanted to travel the world, so she needed money.’
‘What was she like?’
Stephanie thought back to when she had first met Miranda. ‘I can’t really remember much about her.’
‘Do I look like her in any way?’
‘No. You look like your father.’
‘Does Rita still know her?’
‘I don’t think so. She hasn’t mentioned anything to me. But it was one of Rita’s friends who knew Miranda.’
‘You must have got to know Miranda.’
‘I didn’t. She kept herself to herself.’
‘Did you keep in touch with her after I was born?’
‘No. That wouldn’t have been right. Anyway, she went off to travel the world with the money we paid her... at least that’s what I heard from Rita.’
‘Do you think Rita still keeps in touch with the friend that knew Miranda?’
Stephanie closed her eyes briefly. ‘Why do you want to know that?’
‘Well, maybe that friend would know where Miranda is.’
Stephanie pursed her lips. She lowered her eyelids, and once again began to pick at her flaking nail varnish. ‘So, do you want to look for her too, as well as your father?’ she said, not looking at Alice. She could almost feel Alice slipping away from her. She had been her whole world for so long; now it felt like she may lose her for ever. Her eyes filled with tears.
‘I think I’d like to meet her,’ said Alice. ‘If only to find out if we’ve got anything in common.’
Stephanie nodded and forced a weak smile.
‘You really should have told me all this before,’ said Alice, shaking her head.
‘Maybe.’ Stephanie
held back her tears.
Alice stood up. ‘I have to go. I need to get my head around all this.’
‘Darling, why don’t you stay here tonight? You can sleep in your old room. I don’t want to think of you alone when you’re in this state.’
‘No, Mum, I’ll be fine.’ She paused and looked at Stephanie, realising she had called her “Mum”. But she wasn’t her mum. ‘Oh, I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore,’ she said, thinking out loud. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow. I have to go.’
Stephanie stood at her front door and watched as Alice walked along the street towards the Tube station. Her heart felt torn apart inside. The cold look in Alice’s eyes as if she were looking at a stranger when she left the house—that was the worst part. Something of the trust between them had been whittled away tonight.
***
Jumbled thoughts floated around Alice’s mind as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The tears kept up a constant flow, but she hardly noticed them anymore. Thoughts of her early childhood haunted her mind; Stephanie was always there in every memory, but now that had all been tainted. She had never doubted for one moment that Stephanie was her mother. Now a faceless individual, Miranda, took her place. A woman who had sold a child.
Alice recalled how she had once thought she looked a bit like Stephanie’s mother. Stephanie had mentioned to her one day that her own mother’s hair had been blonde and she had shown Alice a photograph of her. It was a black and white photograph. Upon looking at it, Alice remembered saying: ‘I look a bit like her, don’t I?’ She also remembered her mother saying: ‘Hmm... you look like your father, Alice.’ But Alice had gone away with a feeling that she had inherited some features from her maternal grandmother. Now, that was all dissolved. There was no way she could have inherited anything from Stephanie’s mother.
This thought stirred up other feelings that were bubbling below the surface. She began to wonder whether Stephanie had ever really loved her. After all, she was not her real mother. She had seemed sincere when she told her she loved her, but somehow Alice felt a detachment, as if she no longer belonged with Stephanie. It was almost as if an invisible wall had taken away the closeness they had once shared; the closeness that Alice believed could only exist between a mother and her real daughter.