Feeling self-conscious now, she wiped her eyes with a tissue from her handbag and tried to compose herself. Rita brought her a sandwich and a cup of tea. Stephanie smiled at her friend.
‘I’m so sorry, Rita,’ she said.
‘No need to apologise.’
‘I’ve been behaving so selfishly, dragging you here and then not listening to you.’
‘Look, Steph, I understand. It’s okay. Eat your lunch.’
She took a bite of the sandwich and washed it down with a sip of tea. She looked beyond the people seated at the tables, out at the street and towards the sky. There were hardly any clouds and the sun was out. She tried to concentrate on the brightness of the day, to pull herself out of the mire of her thoughts. ‘Do you think Alice will ever talk to me again?’ she said almost to the sky beyond the window.
‘Oh, of course she will,’ said Rita, sipping her coffee and frowning at Stephanie.
Stephanie pulled her eyes away from the view outside and looked at her friend. ‘Thanks for coming, Rita. You’re such a good friend.’
‘It’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right. I personally think you did the right thing telling Alice. She’ll thank you in the end.’
‘Do you think so?’ A shred of hope for Stephanie to grasp onto. Her eyes brightened for a fraction of a second.
‘I’m sure of it,’ said Rita, nodding and smiling.
‘It’s just the way she looked at me; it was like she was looking at a stranger,’ said Stephanie, her eyes distant again.
Stephanie’s mind snapped back to the present and she looked at her alarm clock as she lay in bed. It was 11:45 p.m. She didn’t call, she said she would phone today. Maybe she forgot, maybe she’ll call tomorrow. Trying to block out her thoughts, she fell into a deep exhausted, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Ten
Wednesday 20th August 1997
Alice arrived at Bairns’ Books at 8:45 a.m.
‘Hi,’ said Charlotte, brightly. ‘How are you?’
‘Oh, fine,’ she replied, unconvincingly.
‘So, tell all.’ Charlotte grinned at her as she made her way behind the counter. ‘How was the party? It was yesterday, wasn’t it? I want to know everything!’
‘It was a great party.’ She turned her face away from Charlotte.
‘Did you get to talk to that boy you fancy?’
‘Yes.’ She felt herself blush, not so much from romantic thoughts of Andrew, but more from embarrassment at how their conversation had turned out.
‘Come on then, I want all the sordid details.’ Charlotte leaned in towards her, so that it was impossible for Alice to avoid her eyes.
‘Um... there’s nothing to tell, really.’
‘You’re so cool!’ said Charlotte, smiling at her. ‘You’ve fancied this boy for ages and now you get to chat to him and you’re just so calm about it. I would have literally been tearing his clothes off if it had been me.’ She laughed.
Alice couldn’t help joining in with the laughter.
‘So, when are you gonna see him again?’
‘We swapped numbers,’ she lied. ‘I’ll probably call him next week.’
‘You ice queen. I wish I could be more like you, Alice!’
She forced a smile at Charlotte, wishing they could change the subject.
‘Now, let me tell you all about my evening!’ Looking much more comfortable being in the spotlight once again, Charlotte sat down on the stool behind the counter and began to relate details about her evening out with her new boyfriend, Dave; an actor she had met on a recent film set. As Alice listened to her, she couldn’t help thinking about Andrew. She dearly wanted another chance to talk to him.
***
When Alice returned from lunch, Charlotte greeted her with: ‘Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you how your search for your dad is going. Did your mum tell you where he lives?’
It came as a surprise to Alice that Charlotte had asked her this; she had always assumed that Charlotte was more interested in herself than anyone else, and had taken it for granted that anything she said to her would be forgotten after a few minutes. That’s one of the reasons she had told Charlotte about her father in the first place, or indeed about Andrew; believing that she was someone she could talk to but not worry about having her judge her or ask too many questions.
Alice’s initial reaction was just to stare in disbelief at Charlotte.
‘Well?’ asked Charlotte, snapping her out of her reverie.
‘Um... no. My mum doesn’t know where he lives,’ she said finally.
‘Oh. Never mind,’ said Charlotte.
A customer came along and Alice was glad that at least it would distract her from asking anything else.
***
That evening, on the way home from the bookstore, Alice decided to visit Stephanie. She wanted things to go back to normal... Well, as normal as they could, considering that she now knew Stephanie wasn’t her real mother. It was undeniable that things were different now, but she knew she still wanted Stephanie to be a part of her life. She had always been there for her.
When Alice arrived at Stephanie’s flat, she found that she had not yet returned from work. Alice decided to surprise her by cooking a meal. She looked in the kitchen cupboards and decided to make a risotto. She had just finished cooking when Stephanie arrived home.
‘Hi, Mum,’ she said. She had said “Mum” instinctively, without thinking about it, then realised that she felt strange saying it. It seemed like the wrong thing to call her.
Stephanie did not miss the fact that, firstly, Alice had called her “Mum” and secondly, judging by the smell emanating from the kitchen, she had cooked a meal. It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. For the first time in almost two days, she felt she could breathe again. She had been thinking that Alice hated her and that was the worst feeling in the world.
Alice noticed that Stephanie seemed pleased to see her. She was smiling, but she looked tired; older somehow. She looked as though she hadn’t slept. Alice knew that she had been the cause of her anguish, and felt momentarily guilty.
‘Darling! This is a surprise! How lovely to see you,’ said Stephanie, somewhat over enthusiastically, as if she were greeting an acquaintance in whose company she felt nervous. She was unsure how Alice would behave and was trying to placate her in advance.
‘Did you have a good day at the salon?’ asked Alice as Stephanie entered the kitchen.
‘Yes, sweetie. How about you? How was work?’
It seemed that Stephanie was having a hard time maintaining eye contact with her.
‘Oh, it was quiet,’ said Alice. ‘I’ve cooked a risotto. I don’t know if it’s any good. I didn’t have the recipe with me. But it’s the thought that counts, right?’ She faked a laugh, while frowning.
‘Yes,’ said Stephanie. ‘It smells lovely; I’m sure it’ll be delicious.’ She could see that Alice was tense. She, herself, felt nervous. At some stage it was obvious that Alice would talk about Monday night’s conversation, and she was bracing herself for that, unsure what else she could say.
Alice took out two plates from the cupboard and began serving the dish.
She placed both plates on the table in silence.
‘What would you like to drink—’ She was about to say “Mum” again, but she stopped herself just in time; she still felt uneasy about using the word.
Stephanie watched her place the two plates on the kitchen table with the steaming rice dish. ‘Er... I think I have some white wine in the fridge that would go well with this,’ she said.
‘Okay.’ Alice walked over to the fridge and took out the wine, then she took two wine glasses out of the glass fronted cupboard.
Stephanie could feel the tension in the air. Perhaps she’s cooked this meal, because she’s planning to ask me more about Roger. The thought unnerved her. She would prefer to be the one to bring up the subject. Alice walked over to the table and placed the wine glasses there. She t
hen returned to the cutlery drawer to take out some forks and spoons.
‘Alice, darling.’
Alice looked at her as she placed a spoon and fork next to her plate.
Stephanie knew she was taking a risk, not really knowing if Alice had intended to talk about Roger again, but she wanted to clear the air before they sat down to eat and to get an idea as to what Alice was thinking. ‘Please sit down, dear.’ She took a deep breath as Alice sat opposite her. ‘I... I’ve been worried about how you’ve been since... Well, I know it came as a shock to you on Monday when I told you... Well, I’ve been feeling really bad about—’
‘Don’t,’ interrupted Alice, ‘I’m okay about it. In fact, that’s why I came over today—to say that I think I understand why you didn’t tell me.’
They were both looking at their plates of food, not eating. Stephanie breathed an audible sigh of relief.
‘I think I would have preferred it if you told me when I was younger. It would have been easier,’ continued Alice.
‘I know.’ Stephanie picked up her fork. ‘I was wrong. But I can’t go back and change that. When you were growing up, you hardly ever mentioned your father. I didn’t think you were interested in looking for him. It was easier to carry on as we were.’
‘It may have been easier, but it wasn’t necessarily right,’ said Alice. She raised her head and saw that Stephanie was looking at her. Their eyes met momentarily, then Alice looked back at her plate.
‘I’m sorry, Alice.’ Stephanie took a mouthful of food. ‘The risotto is lovely,’ she said, hoping they could now change the subject. It was painful for her to accept that Alice had not really forgiven her. ‘You’d better start eating your food or it will get cold.’
Alice began to eat. Silence hung between them.
‘This is very tasty. Where did you learn to cook like this? It certainly wasn’t from me.’
‘Oh, it’s just a recipe that was on the back of a packet of rice.’
Silence again.
Stephanie could not think of a thing to say. In the past, the two women had happily eaten a meal together in relative silence, not feeling the need to talk much. But somehow today was different; it was like there was a barrier that had to be broken down so that they could get back to their previous relationship. The only thing that could break it down was interaction. Stephanie tried again to initiate a conversation. ‘You’re going back to university soon, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you seen many of your friends during the summer break?’
‘Yes, I went to a party yesterday,’ said Alice, thinking of Andrew.
‘A party? That’s nice.’
‘Yes, it was okay.’ She frowned as she recalled the disastrous chat with Jane, the time she’d spent alone on the sofa, and then the failed conversation with Andrew.
They finished their meal in silence.
Stephanie stood up and cleared away the plates. ‘Alice, I have some ice cream in the freezer if you’d like.’
‘No thanks.’
‘A cup of tea?’
‘Okay. I’ll make it,’ said Alice, standing up.
‘No, don’t worry. I’ll make it. You cooked the meal,’ said Stephanie. ‘Why don’t you go and sit in the front room and I’ll bring the tea in. I think I have some of those chocolate biscuits that you like, too.’
She felt relieved when Alice left the kitchen. It had been so hard to talk to her. They used to be able to chat freely about everything; Stephanie couldn’t get used to the icy feeling in the air between them.
Stacking the dishes in the dishwasher, she caught sight of the childhood photographs of Alice that were displayed in the glass fronted cabinet. In one of the photographs, Roger’s arm could be seen behind Alice. She recalled that he’d been in a bad mood that day, snapping angrily at her when she tried to take a picture of him with Alice. He had refused to be in the shot. Years ago, when Alice was still a child, Stephanie would look at that photograph and instantly remember Roger. That photograph had always served as a reminder of him. Thinking about it now, she couldn’t understand why she kept it displayed. Perhaps, she mused, she wanted to prove to herself that she could get by without him and that the memory of him didn’t faze her. After all, he had been the one who had left. He had broken the family apart; leaving his only child who was completely innocent, and never even trying to contact her. Only a cold hearted man could do something so callous. The photograph served as a reminder of what he had left behind; and in a strange way, it helped Stephanie get through the hardest years.
She found Alice sitting on the sofa in the living room, slightly hunched over and staring at her hands. Stephanie forced a smile as she handed a cup of tea to her and sat down.
‘Does my dad have any brothers?’ Alice’s question was unexpected.
Stephanie shifted in her seat and frowned. ‘No. He was an only child, like me,’ she said. ‘What’s on TV, Alice?’ She tried to change the subject. Picking up the remote control, she switched on the television and began to flick through the channels.
‘I met Jane at the party I went to yesterday.’
‘Oh? Is she a friend of yours?’ asked Stephanie.
Alice looked at her as if she had said something stupid. ‘No, Jane is the girl who was in the newspaper; the one who looks like me. Her surname is Forester. That’s why I thought we might be related.’
‘Alice, I’ve already told you where I stand on this. You can look for your father, against my wishes, but I don’t want to be a part of it.’ She leaned back on the sofa, taking a sip of tea and looking at the TV.
‘I will need your help with some things. You haven’t told me anything about him.’
‘Have you been watching Coronation Street recently?’ asked Stephanie, ignoring her. ‘It’s very good.’
Alice looked towards the television and sighed. ‘We have to talk about this,’ she said.
‘Shush, I’m watching this.’
Alice reached out and took the remote control, turning off the television.
‘Alice!’ Stephanie looked at her, her eyebrows raised.
‘Who else can tell me about my dad? Maybe I should ask Rita?’
Stephanie reddened. ‘You have to understand, darling, talking about that time in my life brings back bad memories.’ Leaning forward, she placed her tea cup on the coffee table and picked up the TV Times magazine that was lying there. She began flicking through it, obviously not reading it.
‘I can understand that. I just need a few answers and then I’ll look for him on my own, I promise.’
Stephanie sighed and put the magazine on her lap. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Jane said that her dad’s name is Ken. Does my dad have any cousins called Ken, maybe?’
Stephanie looked at her hands and then into Alice’s eyes. She closed her eyes briefly as if what she was about to say was momentous. ‘Your father’s name is Ken.’
‘What?’ Alice’s mouth fell open.
‘His name is Ken—’
‘So who is Roger Forester? You mean, he’s not my dad? Why did you say—’
‘Wait, let me explain—’
‘Explain? Explain? You were supposed to explain everything to me on Monday but then you told me that Roger is my dad—but now it’s Ken.’ Alice stood up quickly, almost knocking the coffee table over. Her tea cup tipped over and the contents spilt onto the tablecloth, painting the white fabric a dull beige colour. Neither woman appeared to notice the tea which was dripping from the edge of the table onto the cream-coloured carpet. Alice stood opposite Stephanie, who was still seated on the sofa. ‘So, not only are you not my mum, but the man who I thought was my dad is not even my dad!’ Alice’s face was red, and tears brimmed in her eyes. ‘Who is the man in the photographs you showed me? Is he my dad? Is he Ken?’
‘Please, Alice, if you’d only let me get a word in edgeways. Ken Forester is your dad; or to be more precise: Ken Roger Forester. He always used his middle name as
his first name. He didn’t like the name “Ken”. I only found out that his first name was Ken a few weeks before we married. Everyone knew him as Roger.’
Alice wiped her tears on her sleeve, and looked visibly relaxed. ‘So, he is the same man.’ She sat back down on the sofa. ‘I knew it.’
Stephanie shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.
‘Jane must be related to me. My dad must have other children. She must be my half-sister.’
‘You don’t know that for sure—’
‘Oh, come on, Mum; even you have to agree there are far too many coincidences here. She must be my sister.’ Alice smiled.
Stephanie did not miss the fact that Alice had called her “Mum” and she momentarily felt more secure. ‘I just don’t want you to be disappointed.’
‘It’s exciting,’ said Alice, her eyes full of joy. ‘I’ve got this whole new family that I didn’t know about.’
Stephanie frowned. ‘Alice; you said you spoke to Jane at the party. Did she say anything else?’
‘Only that her dad wasn’t married before.’ Her smile faded slightly. ‘So, Jane doesn’t know about us. I suppose that explains why she looked at me as if I was strange. But I just know she’ll be as excited as I am, to find out she has a sister. Who knows? Maybe there are more of us... Dad might have other children.’
‘You’re getting carried away. Even if Jane’s father is your father—’
‘He is.’
‘Hmm... even if he is; he has obviously not told his new family that he has another child. He left us. You already know what rejection feels like, I don’t want you to go through it again.’