Page 71 of Deep Blue Lies

SEVENTY

We’re left alone in the room with Imogen, the machines monitoring her softly beeping.

For a while no one says anything. I take a step closer and look into her face, her eyes closed, her expression peaceful.

What is it you were going to tell me ? I want to ask her.

What is it you know? I think back to all the times I’ve seen this woman, the time she appeared at my birthday party completely unannounced and even more out of place.

How old was I then, eight or nine? She’s always been this strange presence in my life.

Turning up as if she were Mum’s best friend, when Mum never seemed to like her much.

Why has Mum used her over the years as an example of a weak person, an example of how not to live my life?

I believed it too. There was always a softness, a weakness if you like, in Imogen that frightened me a little.

Not because I thought I really would turn out like her, but of the terrible implications if I did.

That my life would pass by while I lived inside a dream.

Then I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Maria smiling softly at me.

There’s a nurse now, standing in the doorway.

“We should go,” Maria tells me, and she guides me away .

We don’t talk as we wind our way through the hospital corridors back to the outside, but we stop as we reach the car. Maria zaps the button to unlock it but doesn’t pull open her door.

“What will you do now?” she asks instead.

“I don’t know.” I wait too, my fingers touching the handle but not pulling it.

“Perhaps it is time that you spoke with your mother?”

I look at her. I look down at the door handle, and suddenly the world in front of me melts behind watery tears.

They come on so quickly and so strongly that when I blink, two fat drops of water fall onto my hand, only to be replaced at once by more liquid welling up in my eyes.

I try to wipe them away, choking back more tears.

I feel Sophia beside me, her arm around my shoulder, pulling me into her.

Maria comes too, and both of them hug me for a long while, stroking my head, my hair, my shoulders.

A long time later I’m able to speak again.

“But she’s not my mother, is she?” I turn to Maria, feeling the heat on my face, wiping away more tears. “I know that. I don’t know who she is, but I know she’s not my mother.”

“Whether she’s your biological mother or not,” Maria speaks quietly, “you know she’s the person who’s brought you up, who’s made you who you are. And nothing will change that.”

She takes a deep breath and looks around while I slump more onto Sophia.

“And what you said about your birthday,” she says now. “About how your mother said it might not be your actual birthday. Maybe she is your real mum, and all this is just some confusion about dates?”

I know she’s only saying this. To make it easier, to make me less scared about what I know I need to do now.

None of us have got in the car yet, and Maria sighs again and looks around. Very much unlike any British hospital I’ve ever seen, there’s a strip of cafes across the road which look both welcoming and pleasant.

“Maybe we should get something to eat?” Maria says, and I nod. I don’t feel hungry, but somehow the thought of getting into the car and returning to Alythos, away from Imogen, seems wrong. The problem is I don’t know what would feel right.

“OK,” I say, and a moment later I hear the car blip and see the locking lights flash.

Sophia leads me through the car park and across a busy road to the cafes.

They all have tables on the pavement, but Maria leads us inside, where it’s cooler and there’s less noise from the road.

We sit, and they order coffee and pastries.

“I think you should call her, let her know what’s happened,” Maria tells me when the food has arrived. Only Sophia has touched it at all. I don’t answer.

“Where is she?” Maria asks me.

I shrug. “At home.”

“You say Imogen is a friend of hers. At least you ought to tell her that she’s been hurt.”

I let her words wash through me, not really hearing them. But it’s as if they snag on something, they spark a reaction.

“But she wasn’t hurt, someone attacked her. Someone wanted to stop her talking to me.” I look at Maria, my eyes pleading with her to explain this to me. For a long time her eyes rest on mine, then she sighs.

“It could just be a coincidence. There are gangs of Albanians, I’ve read about?—”

“Oh, come on, Mum,” Sophia cuts in, angry. “You know it’s not true.” She turns to me. “Everything here gets blamed on Albanians.” She shakes her head.

“I agree, Sophia, but what’s the alternative? Do you really believe that someone attacked this poor woman just so that she couldn’t tell Ava who her real mother is? Why would that happen?”

“I don’t know. But you don’t know either.”

I see the frustration on Sophia’s face, a moment later she speaks again. “Ava had her room broken into as well. Stole her laptop. Do you think that was Albanians?”

Maria stays silent .

“And then whoever did it smashed the laptop up and hung a bag with the bits in on her front door. Like they were sending a message.”

“What message?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have a clue. But something.”

I thought it would all make sense if I turned out to be Mandy Paul’s baby. But if I’m not, then I don’t understand anything.

There’s a silence. Then Maria tries again.

“Maybe she’ll be able to explain this to you, your mother? Now you can show her you know you weren’t born when she said you were. Or weren’t born to her?”

I don’t answer.

“Either way, you’re going to have to face this. Sooner or later. And with Imogen…” – her eyes slide to the hospital over the road – “it would be better sooner.”

For a long time I stay quiet. Then I quickly pull out my phone.

They both watch me as I stare at the screen.

It’s weird to think that with this device I can speak with this woman, thousands of miles away.

This woman who has brought me up, who has been my mother my entire life, but who clearly isn’t.

This woman who’s lied to me about who I am.

Idly I press a button and the phone comes to life.

My lockscreen image. A smile comes to my lips.

It’s me and Kevin, arm-in-arm, with the cold North Sea behind us.

“I keep meaning to change that,” I say, my eyes finding Sophia’s. She doesn’t look away.

Mum’s listed in my phone as “Mum” – what else would I put? What will I have to change it to after this conversation? I have no idea.

“Do you want some privacy, honey?” Maria asks, and I’m almost surprised, because I’ve retreated so far into myself that I’d almost zoned them out. I bite my lip, then shake my head.

“I’ll go outside.”

I stand, walking the few steps to the doorway of the cafe with my thumb resting over the “call” button. I find a quiet corner in the shade, close my eyes, and press.

After six rings it goes to voicemail. Mum’s voice, cool and brusque, leave a message, she’ll get back to me.

Obviously I don’t. Instead I hang up, then stare at my hands, which are shaking wildly.

I literally have to use my other hand to steady the one holding the mobile.

Then my focus shifts, wider than my hand, the street in front of me, the hospital behind it.

The thousand-mile gulf that’s opened up between me and Karen – whoever she is to me. Or the gulf that was always there.

I go back inside, both Maria and Sophia trying to read my face. I shake my head.

“No answer. I think I need a drink.”

At once Sophia gets up and goes to the bar. I watch her back as she speaks with the barman, and moments later she comes back with a tall glass of cloudy white liquid.

“Raki,” she says, putting it down in front of me. “It’ll help.”

I take a sip, it’s strong aniseed and frankly horrible, but I take a large mouthful and force myself to swallow it. Something about the burning sensation in my throat does help a little.

“Is there another number you could try?” Maria asks. “A work number perhaps?”

I blink at her, then half-nod, half-shrug.

“There’s the pharmacy.” I check my watch, trying to work out what time it would be in the UK now, but give up because my brain isn’t working properly.

“I could try there.” I look at her and see she’s nodding, that I should.

That I ought to try. I nod back, but take another large drink from the raki first.

“OK.”

I stand again and walk back outside. Mum’s work number is listed on my phone as “Mum Pharmacy”. I blink at it a few times and press dial.

This time it goes straight to voicemail.

The office hours are eight to five thirty, and the store is now closed.

I don’t let it finish, I don’t let it tell me the location of the out-of-hours service, because I’ve heard it thousands of times before.

Instead, I hang up and screw my eyes shut.

Fuck, why does this part have to be so difficult?

Isn’t the whole thing hard enough? Why is it so hard now just to reach her?

Without really thinking I try her mobile again, not really expecting anything other than her voicemail a second time, but this time she surprises me.

“Ava?” Her voice is sharp, surprised.

“ Mum? ”

“What is it? What’s going on?”