Walking along Oakview Road, she thought of Jane and her father and how they must have walked along this street thousands of times. As she walked, she kept an eye on the door numbers. Very soon she was standing outside the house. Number twenty-seven. She took a deep breath. Standing outside the house, she realised that it looked much the same as the other houses in the street—grey bricks, wooden door. Somehow, irrationally, she had expected the house to look different, to stand out in some way. But, there was nothing special or distinctive about it at all.
Noticing the well-kept front garden, with a neat hedge surrounding a display of various flowers, she began to imagine her father must like gardening. Nervously, she looked at the iron gate and the three steps leading up to the front door.
The image of her father as a young man (from the photographs she had seen) came into her head. She wondered what he looked like now.
She stared at the house for a while longer, in an almost trancelike state, aware that her father and Jane walked in and out of that door every day. The thought filled her with a sense of loss. She had missed so much of their lives.
Just then, a woman called out to a young boy, who was running along the street. The small boy ran past Alice. The woman followed some feet behind, pushing a pram. Alice came back down to earth as the woman approached her. The woman smiled at her as she hurried past, trying to keep up with the small boy. ‘Alex! Stop running!’ the woman called out, as she continued on down the street. Alice then began to feel conspicuous, wondering how long she had been standing in the same spot, looking at the house. I should leave, she thought; imagining neighbours looking through their net curtains wondering who the strange girl was.
She was about to turn away, when she saw the next-door neighbour’s door opening. An elderly woman stepped out, and looked straight at her. She had a shopping trolley with her. Waving at Alice, she cried out: ‘Hello, love!’
Alice felt embarrassed. ‘Hello,’ she replied, waving back at the woman. She then turned to walk away, hoping to avoid any awkward questions, like ‘why have you been staring at this house for so long?’. She felt paranoid, as she had no idea how long she had been staring at the house, and imagined it may have been a long time, so mesmerised was she by this place; the place where her father lived.
‘Wait, Jane, wait!’ called the woman.
Alice felt nervous. Jane’s here? She wished there was somewhere she could hide, but all the gardens in this road were well maintained, with trimmed back hedges. She turned around towards where the woman was standing, dreading having to talk to Jane again and explain what she was doing here.
‘Jane,’ the old woman stood right in front of her and smiled.
It was only then that Alice realised: She thinks I’m Jane!
‘Um... I’m in a bit of a hurry,’ said Alice. ‘I’ll see you later.’ She then turned around and started to walk away quickly, not wanting to explain to the woman what she was doing there. However, it soon became apparent that the woman was following her.
‘It won’t take a minute, love.’ The woman had somehow caught up with her and was now standing quite close behind her.
Alice turned to face her. She was amazed to find that the woman continued to talk to her as if she still thought she was Jane.
‘Jane, dear,’ she said, seeming a little out of breath after chasing Alice along the street. She pulled a brown package out of her shopping trolley. ‘This came for your mum this morning.’ She held it towards Alice. ‘The postman left it with me, because there was no answer at your house when he knocked. Anyway, I don’t want to hold you up, but it’s probably easier for me to give it to you because you can just take it straight in. Well, I’m going shopping now. See you later.’
Alice reluctantly took the parcel from the woman, fearing that if she didn’t she would have to explain that she wasn’t Jane and that would lead to a whole conversation that she wasn’t prepared to have.
She watched the woman walk away. Staring at the parcel in her hands, she wasn’t sure what to do. Before the neighbour had interrupted her thoughts, she had more or less decided that she would go home and come back another day. But what could she do with the parcel? It was too big to fit through the letter box, and she couldn’t just leave it outside: the old woman would see it when she returned from the shops; or worse still, someone would steal it.
In a panic, unable to think straight, she thought about taking the parcel home with her and began walking back to the Tube station. The only thing she could think of was that she had to get away from the house. How many other neighbours had seen her standing outside?
As she walked, she considered just dumping the parcel somewhere, or putting it in someone’s dustbin; but she knew it wouldn’t be that simple. The old woman would most probably mention to Jane’s mother that she had handed it to Jane.
She looked down at the brown package and started to read the name. The addressee was “Mrs. Miranda Forester”. What? It doesn’t make sense. She stopped walking and shook her head. Could it be possible that her real parents had married and were living together in that house? No, it couldn’t be true. She didn’t want to think about it. Her real mother and father, together. For how long? She felt betrayed. They had abandoned her. She meant nothing to them. It wasn’t possible. This must be a different Miranda.
She walked back towards number twenty-seven and opened the front gate. Her arms were shaking so much that she was afraid she would drop the parcel, and hoped there was nothing breakable inside. Before she reached the front door, it opened. Jane Forester stepped out and looked at her suspiciously.
‘Hello,’ said Alice, blushing, aware that Jane must have seen her through the window. She wondered how long she had been looking at her.
‘Hello,’ said Jane, frowning, ‘what are you doing here?’
‘I... I...’ said Alice. Her mind went blank.
‘Well?’ asked Jane.
Alice noticed that Jane still had the plaster cast on her right arm. She shuffled her feet, trying to think of an answer for Jane. She couldn’t tell her why she’d come. She remembered her father’s harsh words on the telephone and how he did not want Jane to know anything about her. ‘Um, I just...’ Alice shrugged her shoulders and started to turn around.
‘Excuse me!’ Jane’s voice was suddenly louder.
Startled, Alice turned back around to face her and saw that her features were now twisted into a grimace.
‘It’s to do with what you said at the party, isn’t it?’ asked Jane, her tone of voice seemed a little calmer now, although her eyes were still boring a hole into Alice.
‘Y... y... yes,’ Alice stuttered.
‘What you said about my dad being married before... to your mum—it’s been bothering me. You must have had some reason to suspect... Well, I mean, do you have any proof of what you’re saying?’
Alice’s mouth fell open. Could she tell her? ‘Only what my mum has told me,’ she said, cautiously. She could almost hear her father screaming at her not to tell Jane, but then something switched inside her. Why should I protect him? I don’t owe him anything. She remembered she had the photograph of her dad in her bag; she put it in there that morning—she didn’t know why, except that when she’d seen it again, and seen his smiling face, it made her wonder how he could have changed so completely. She was bringing the photograph with her in case the opportunity arose for her to show it to him; thinking that perhaps the image would help to remind him that he had once loved her.
Reaching into her bag, she fished it out. ‘I have this. That’s me with my dad,’ she said, holding out the photograph towards Jane.
Jane took the photograph and her eyes widened. ‘Um...’ she said, ‘th... that’s my dad.’ She handed the photograph back to Alice, and then stared at her, open-mouthed.
Alice began to feel slightly guilty, and looked down to avoid Jane’s eyes. It was only then that she remembered she was still holding the package that the old woman had given her. ‘Oh,’ she said,
holding it out towards Jane. ‘I met your neighbour, the old woman. She thought I was you, so she gave me this for your mum.’
Jane took the parcel in her left hand, and cradled it under her arm. ‘Oh, Mrs. Hutchins, she’s a bit short-sighted!’ Jane giggled nervously. ‘Thank you,’ she said, looking at the parcel. Then, she continued to stare at Alice.
‘Well, I’d better be off,’ said Alice.
‘But... why did you come? You must have wanted to see my dad,’ said Jane.
‘I don’t know. I don’t...’
‘He’s not in at the moment,’ said Jane. ‘You could come back this evening; he’s usually home at about seven o’clock. Or he’s home at weekends. Tomorrow or Sunday.’ Although she appeared slightly dazed and confused, Jane was being helpful, and Alice began to feel more at ease.
‘Did he say anything about speaking to me on the phone last night?’
‘No,’ said Jane. Turning back towards the front door, she carefully placed the parcel inside. After closing the door, she said: ‘Anyway, I have to go.’ She appeared suddenly nervous. ‘I’ve got some shopping to do. It was nice to see you again.’ She began to walk towards the gate.
Alice followed her. ‘I didn’t mean to shock you,’ she said. ‘I came to see my dad; I just wanted to meet him. I didn’t know you would be here. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you about this.’
‘No, I’m glad you did,’ said Jane turning around. ‘I mean, you’re right about me being shocked, but I’m glad I know.’
‘It’s just that, your dad... I mean, our dad... well, he didn’t want you to know... yet. He thought it would be for the best if you didn’t know. I suppose he has his reasons,’ said Alice.
‘Yeah,’ said Jane.
‘Listen, Jane. I’d prefer it if you didn’t say anything to him about this meeting. I think he’d be upset if he knew you’d found all of this out from me. He probably would have preferred to tell you about me in his own time.’
‘Okay,’ said Jane, nodding. ‘Anyway, I suppose you’ll be visiting him soon, and then we can get it all out in the open.’
Alice felt tense again, imagining a meeting with her father, but she was glad that at least Jane seemed to be taking it so well; maybe that would make it easier for her to approach him. ‘Yes, soon,’ said Alice.
Jane smiled at her as she walked out of the gate.
As she walked away, Alice suddenly remembered the name on the package, “Miranda Forester”. She followed Jane.
‘Jane? Can I just ask you one question before you go?’
Jane hesitantly turned to face her.
‘It might sound a bit strange, but I’m just curious to know. It’s just that I think your mum might know my mum. Do you know what your mum’s surname was before she married your dad?’
‘Um, yes... It was Carey.’ Jane smiled.
‘Thank you,’ said Alice, quickly, catching her breath.
‘Well, bye, then,’ said Jane, eyeing Alice curiously.
‘Yes, bye.’
Alice watched as Jane walked away from her along the street: Jane Forester, who she now knew was her sister. Not just half-sister, but sister. She watched as she turned the corner of the street and disappeared into the High Road. Then Alice turned around and headed back to the Tube station. Her mind was full of unanswered questions.
***
Alice couldn’t believe the events of the day. She couldn’t really remember anything after saying good-bye to Jane and watching her walk away. Somehow, she had made her way back to her flat but she didn’t know how. Her mind was full of confusion. She thought back over the past two weeks. Things seemed to be happening, everything was changing, but she had no control.
She could not believe it was possible that she had lived for twenty-one years not really knowing anything about where she came from. Everything that she had believed in had been a lie. The hardest part to accept was that Stephanie was not her real mother. She knew now that up until this moment, she had been almost in denial. Now, she could not deny the truth. She had found out beyond doubt, that her real mother actually existed. Miranda was no longer just a fictional character. She had seen the proof of her existence clearly, with her own two eyes; parcels do not arrive addressed to people who do not exist.
She could not shake the feeling of betrayal that permeated her mind each time she remembered the name on the parcel. It was a feeling that came from the pit of her stomach. She found it hard to accept that for all these years, her real mother and father had been living together only a few miles away, with her sister, and yet they had never once contacted Stephanie to find out about her. She had not mattered to them. They had abandoned her. They had never wanted her.
Why did they leave her with Stephanie? It didn’t make sense. They obviously wanted children. They had Jane. Was it possible, that in all these years, they had never thought about her or wondered how she had turned out? She was sure there must be more to the story; something that would answer her questions.
She began to wonder what sort of reaction she would get from her parents if she went to visit them now. Her father had been so unkind on the phone. How would Miranda react? She began to question what she really hoped to get out of seeing them. Wasn’t it better if she just accepted that Stephanie was the only mother she had ever known? Shouldn’t she just carry on as she was? At least Stephanie cared about her; she was sure of that. The more she thought about her real parents, the more she began to imagine them as uncaring, unfeeling people, who had abandoned their baby daughter, and had never given a thought to her welfare.
Maybe she was expecting too much. Shouldn’t she just get on with her life with the satisfaction that she now knew who her real mother and father were? But, somehow, she felt unable to do that. She had gone too far now. She could not turn back. It was as if her mind was on a one way street.
She thought about Jane. Jane had seemed nice. She had seemed interested that she had a sister she hadn’t known about. Alice knew that what her father had said was true—she and Jane were strangers. They had grown up apart. She felt sad about that. She wished that she’d had the opportunity to grow up with Jane. She remembered the look of shock on Jane’s face when she had seen the photograph of her dad.
Suddenly, she felt nervous. She had not thought about the consequences of anything. What if Jane said something to her parents? It could just slip out. Would it even be possible for Jane to not say something? After all, finding out that she had a sister she never knew about must have affected her too. Would it lead to an argument? Would there be more lies, to cover up the lies? Her father had been so anxious that Jane should not be told. Maybe he would make Alice out to be the liar.
She regretted rushing in. She had been so determined to find out the truth that she had ignored the advice Stephanie had given her, and she had also ignored her father’s request that she should not tell Jane anything. What would happen now? Perhaps her parents would not want to have anything more to do with her now that she had shattered their little family unit. What would Jane do? Would she thank Alice for letting her know, or in the end would she come to hate her and see her as an outsider; the person who had come into her life after so many years just to tip the scales?
But, then, she remembered something that Jane had said. She had said that she was glad she knew that Alice was her sister. Alice felt warm inside, remembering this. A calmness came over her, and she didn’t feel so upset about everything. She felt glad that she had discovered the truth. As she became aware of that, she felt more in control of the situation: she could decide the next move. If she wanted to see her parents, she could. If she decided to carry on with her life as before, she could. It was her choice.
She recalled that Jane had seemed happy at the thought that Alice would be visiting her father, but no sooner had the thought come into her head, Alice began to appreciate that things were not so simple. The feeling of gloom, which had been with her for the past two weeks, returned. She could not get past the fact that her pa
rents had abandoned her and that she had never had the opportunity to be a part of their family. There was still so much that needed explaining.
The telephone rang. Alice lifted the handset. ‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Hello, Alice,’ came Stephanie’s voice. ‘How are you?
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she lied. Hearing Stephanie on the line made her yearn for the time before she had found out about her real parents. She had been happy then.
‘I was worried about you. I know you were going to visit your father today. Did you go?’
‘Yes, I went,’ said Alice, not really wanting to discuss it. There was silence. Alice knew Stephanie was waiting to hear more. ‘I didn’t actually see my dad; he wasn’t in. He was at work.’
‘Oh,’ said Stephanie, almost with a sigh of relief, ‘never mind.’
‘I did see, Jane, though. His other daughter.’
‘Oh.’ The disappointment in her voice was audible.
‘Yes, we had a nice chat. She seems really nice.’ Alice still felt gloomy, and her tone of voice was flat.
‘I know it’s not what you want to hear, Alice, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to meet him, darling.’
‘Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,’ said Alice. Then without thinking, she continued, ‘I found out that Jane is my real sister, not just my half-sister. So it wasn’t a complete waste of time going there today.’ She wished she could take the words back as soon as she had said them.
‘Oh, really, how’s that then?’ asked Stephanie as if she had not really been paying attention.