Page 24

Family portraits

I should have drawn a diagram, preferably with sketches and colour coding. Peter was Susan’s brother, Michelle his wife, and Daniel their son. Daniel was twenty-four – that’s what we were celebrating – and his brother in London had the baby son. Daniel was tall, which was odd, as Michelle and Peter were a little stocky, like Susan. Mary and Paul were Derek’s sister and her husband. Honestly, I tried to use their names as little as possible because it was so much to remember.

Seahorse Cottage was adorable. It was nestled on the top of a hill in a little residential town overlooking the sea. A blue seahorse adorned a silver plaque by the door. The cottages that lined the road were all of intermingling shapes and sizes; an eclectic mix of thatched roofs, elaborate weathervanes, and characterful gardens.

We were the last to make our way down the path, and even before the rustic door opened, I could sense the cosy bustle of the busy home radiating in the salty air. Susan and Derek pushed the door open with a warm familiarity as I followed closely behind. Mary looked a bit like Derek, I thought, as my eyes profiled the new faces. She was impeccably dressed; even her blush scarf was intentionally wrapped around her slender neck. Next to her, Paul looked rather eccentric, with his thin, silver-framed glasses and tufts of grey hair around his ears. He was only a little taller than she was.

Peter and Michelle made an instant move for us, pulling me in for a hug and nearly knocking me off my leg. Michelle’s short curly hair tickled my nose as I focused on keeping my footing. I spotted Daniel standing in the corner, leaning more causally against the wall, holding a mug. He had a practical looking blue fleece on over faded jeans, his dark, short beard highlighting his cheekbones. He looked like Peter; a bit taller, but with a similarly long face. He waved at me and smiled, giving a nod to the friendly chaos. Although I felt overwhelmed and unsteady, the warmth of it all felt familiar somehow.

I tried my best to answer their questions as we tucked in to our food, slowly building a better picture of these new characters. I managed to sit between Daniel and Derek, who both provided a calming energy. I’d been given one of the two downstairs bedrooms because of my leg, and, thankfully, Mary tired quickly from their long drive, so I had an excuse to get an early night.

To my surprise, sleep was easy.

Ben

Good morning. How’s it going? xxx

Me

Good morning, Benji. Okay, I think. It was pretty intense last night, but we’re going for a walk on the beach so I’m hoping that’ll be easier. They seem harmless. How’s work? xxx

Ben

Busy, Bambi, I miss seeing you about. Give them time, it was always going to be a lot. Don’t get too overwhelmed, take some space if you need it xxx

Me

Have you been speaking to Linda, Thumper?

Ben

Definitely not. I was thinking about what you said, though. We’ll talk about it when you’re back xxx

Me

Thank you. I miss you xxxx

They were all keen to show me everything, often all at once. I half expected one of them to introduce me to the sand on the beach. It scrunched under their feet as we walked down the quiet coastline, me staying on the promenade.

“They’re a lot,”

Daniel commented, walking slower to match my pace.

A gust of wind carried the mist of a crashing wave.

“Maybe.”

I looked at him as we walked and smiled politely.

“You’re brave,”

he chuckled, nudging me gently. “You should see Christmas – it’s chaos.”

I laughed. “I’m pleased to be able to put faces to names. I didn’t want to keep putting off meeting you all. You’ve all been very welcoming.”

He nodded as we both stepped around a group of seagulls fighting over a discarded crisp packet. “It’s strange to see you, I’ll be honest. I don’t think any of us are entirely sure how to act. I’m really sorry; we all are, for everything that happened.”

“Thank you. It’s strange for me too.”

I asked him about his job in tech. Each interaction became easier and more natural, each piece of information colouring the blank image of each person, although none of them came from memory.

At dinner, the questions came thick and fast again. The usual, at first: details of my upbringing, the escape, what I remembered. The word escape still felt wrong. The questions were respectful, but I could sense their hunger. When one person was speaking, someone else was bubbling with another thought. We spoke about the police case, about Lucy and how she’d found me; we touched on Ben and where I’d been living.

“Imagine grandchildren after all this time!”

Michelle had exclaimed.

Daniel had shot me an immediate look of sympathy.

When everyone started heading in as the wind developed its evening chill, I lingered outside, needing a minute. Derek came out and settled himself in the iron chair next to me.

“You’re doing very well, love. Are you alright?”

he asked, having bought my wine glass out from the table.

“Yes, I’m okay,”

I reassured him, admiring the slip of sea above the rooftops in the distance. “Who actually owns this place?”

“We all do, a bit. Michelle was going to sell it at one point, but when you were taken, we all had a shift in priorities and came together to buy shares.”

“That’s such a nice thing to have done. You all seem to get on so well, both sides of the family.”

“We have our moments. At first, no one knew how to deal with you being gone… when to stop living the days hour by hour. But in the end, we all came back together.”

He sipped his beer. “How’s Ben?”

“Okay, I think.”

He raised an eyebrow, encouraging me to continue in his easy way.

“When the article came through the door, I thought he might open up, but it was complicated. It’s hard to know what to say. I don’t want to say the wrong thing to him.”

Derek took another long sip of beer, mulling over his thoughts. “I don’t think someone like Ben needs you to say anything; I think he just needs you to be there. The boy grew up without a father figure, with no mother to look after him. It sounds like he parented Lucy. I don’t imagine he’s used to having people care about him.”

It was hard to hear.

“Thank you. Those are wise words.”

I hesitated. “Still, I don’t think he needs me to be there, as such. He seems to have a lot of people around him.”

He smiled at me and raised his beer glass. “Maybe.”

He shrugged. “Don’t tell your mother you think I’m wise, she wouldn’t agree.”

When we headed back inside, to my surprise, the family asked me if I would make an Instagram post. Of course, I said no, feeling that it wasn’t appropriate, but they insisted. It seemed they had all been affected by the press more than I’d considered.

“People are asking me questions constantly. Have I seen you? What are you like? When am I meeting you?”

Michelle explained.

“We get the same,”

added Mary.

I thought about how it must have been for them. How I’d been such a prominent part of their lives without even being there.

“I’m sorry, it must have been so hard for you all. I never knew anything. I wish I’d found the strength to leave sooner.”

Susan, who was sat next to me on the sofa, squeezed my knee.

“No, no, sweetie, I didn’t mean it like that,”

Michelle fumbled. “I meant that your posts are respectful; they help answer the questions people ask.”

“It affected us all in different ways,”

Mary added. “Of course, what we felt was nothing compared to what Susan and Derek endured.”

“Well, yes, we were so pleased when they got back together,”

Michelle stated, too calmly.

My eyes shot to Susan as she looked down.

“Mum, do you really think you need another?”

Daniel cautioned as Peter obediently bought over another green bottle for his wife, filling all of our glasses.

“It’s okay, Daniel.”

Susan looked at me, and I could sense Derek’s attention from the kitchen. “Your father and I separated for five years, but we found our way back to each other.”

“Hear, hear!”

Paul raised a glass. “You always were a good cook; it would’ve been a shame to lose you.”

Everyone laughed except for me. I pictured them sat all alone for all those years while I wasted away. All of us unhappy. Apart.

“So, you ride, I hear?”

Mary offered, noticing my heavy expression and changing the topic.

I nodded. “I love horses. I love all animals, really, but generally, the bigger the better. Susan said you had one.”

“Yes, we have a stable in our village. It keeps me busy. We have Monty at the moment.”

She shuffled over to show me a photo of a near black, glossy gelding.

“Oh, he’s stunning,”

I gasped in awe. He looked shiny and excellently cared for.

“Would you like to come and see him sometime? Maybe we could go for a ride?”

“I would love that,”

I replied, the thought of getting back on a horse lifting my spirits. I tried not to think of Ebony.

“I remember when Daniel got dragged through the mud by one of yours, Mary,”

Peter added, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Michelle.

“Alright, Dad, we know you love that story.”

Daniel rolled his eyes.

“Well, it was just too funny, son.”

He turned to me. “The horse bolted when someone shook a bin bag, but instead of letting go of the reins, Daniel clung on for dear life. He was dragged through so much mud he eventually gave up and let go; ended up sitting in a warm pile of horse crap.”

Everyone laughed again.

“Mary told me not to let go!”

he defended.

“Yes, your brother enjoyed that a lot,”

Michelle chuckled. “At least you were keen for a bath that day.”

“Mum!”

Daniel shouted, head in his hands.

I smiled, taking them all in.

I’d been on a horse that bolted once, when I was eleven.

It ran and ran, the poor thing.

Dennis had fired his shotgun at a tin can.

I held on and rode until it calmed, and when I dismounted, in a small woodland a few fields away from the site, darkness had started to fall.

The horse was agitated and had spun around as my feet aimed for the floor, knocking the wind out of me.

It had felt like shards of glass were stuck between the bones of my foot.

It took me three hours to make my way back.

I’d made sure I bedded the horse in before heading back to the caravan.

I was freezing, with red fingers and chattering teeth, but the door was locked.

I rattled it, the flimsy plastic moving and rocking, but Ruby and Frank had gone out.

I knew better than to ask for help, so I went back and slept with the horses, curling up in the hay.

I awoke in the morning to Frank kicking me in the side, yelling furiously about how much of a terrible child I was for not coming home on time.

“So, are you going to take our photo?”

Michelle asked, snapping me back to the present.

After some organising, we took a family photo in Seahorse Cottage. Arms around one another, flushed cheeks, and full glasses. I stared at the image on my phone. I looked out of place in this wholesome, loving family.

An imposter.

IvyMWhite Meeting the family finally. Happy Birthday Daniel!