Whatever it takes, p.38
Whatever It Takes, page 38
56
Yes, Eloise, you are right. Mark is Cooper’s father.
I can only imagine how you agonised over asking that question, hating having to put something so difficult into words. I’m quite surprised you ever had the courage; you’ve never been one for confrontation. I can only guess how many hours, days and weeks you must have agonised over Margaret’s revelation. Dismissing it, believing it, rejecting it, being tortured by it. I suppose you were hoping I’d put your mind at rest by assuring you that the resemblance is passing, a coincidence. I considered doing so but I think part of me always wanted you to know.
You seemed angry in your email. Indignant. I think that’s why I ultimately decided to tell you the truth. I can’t bear it that you are so supercilious. So hypocritical, Eloise. After all, you accepted that Jeremy had fathered Cooper in a heartbeat. Jeremy has a wife and children too, but you didn’t care about that, did you? Someone else’s husband, someone else’s problem. The irony is, it was supposed to be Jeremy. That’s who I’d planned to conceive with but, on his way over to my place, Jeremy was called into his boss’s office and Mark knocked on my door instead. Funny how things work out.
I don’t think there’s any risk in telling you the truth. You haven’t got much room to manoeuvre, have you? I can’t imagine that you are going to destroy your oh-so-perfect world. You’ll have to find a way of dealing with the knowledge that your perfect husband is not so perfect after all. You’ll have to do that for the sake of your girls. Learn to live with it.
Your girls were my everything until I had Cooper, now I understand what everything really means. However, because of the girls I’ve decided to tell you something that might help. It was only the once. It was that day he caught you kissing Charlie. By the way, it was Mark who told me all about that, not Charlie. He was devastated. So sure that you must be having an affair. It’s funny that your actions sent him to me. He was very vulnerable, crazed with self-pity. I took advantage of him. And I don’t regret it.
We all do what we have to do, don’t we, in this imperfect world? I can’t deny it, it has been rather fun being omnipresent, omnipotent. I’ve known all, controlled all. I knew about you and Charlie. I knew Mark would stop us meeting up after he’d been with me. And I knew you would not tell Mark that we were meeting up again, so wouldn’t be able to tell him I was pregnant. I knew that when I introduced you to Cooper you were kissing your husband’s son. I bet Mark still doesn’t even know I’ve had a baby, does he, Eloise? You were all blind to it, weren’t you? Too busy seeing everything from your own myopic point of view to see the entire picture.
Only Margaret, riddled with dementia, saw what was under your noses.
Don’t be sad or angry, Eloise. Try and think about it calmly. You’d offered to be surrogate. What’s the difference? Just a little donation. I will be a great mum. I am being a great mum. I want you to forgive him, and me and yourself – for not being perfect. This is what it is. Few people expect perfect or strive for perfect, the way you do.
Besides, what’s your alternative? We’ve moved to Australia. We’re on a visitors’ visa at the moment but I don’t plan on coming back to the UK. We can go anywhere in the world. And if we decide to stay in Australia you should know that Cooper is one of the most popular names here – I planned that – and we’re in the process of changing our surnames. Even if you do tell Mark about Cooper, and you try to find us, be assured – you won’t. All you’ll be doing is condemning Mark to a lifetime of looking for another generation. I can’t imagine you’ll ever be that cruel. Leave it alone, Eloise. This isn’t one you can fix.
I am closing this email account down. You will never hear from me again.
57
Eloise couldn’t move. She sat for so long that the screen went black. She nudged her mouse and the words reappeared. She read them again. They were the same. They punched. The screen went black again. Nudge. The words reappeared, they wouldn’t go away.
In fact, more words were crashing into Eloise’s world. But not Sara’s words. Sara had had too much say in her life so far, that was now blatantly clear. Eloise had always been plagued by an illogical guilt around Sara and that was why she’d indulged her time and time again. Eloise had it all when Sara had nothing. Now Sara had stolen from her. It was vile and cruel and desperate.
But Sara wasn’t Eloise’s problem.
Mark. Mark’s words came to her. His apologies and explanations for this crime. Not for conceiving a baby that he was ignorant of, but for a drunken, self-pitying revenge fuck. He’d apologised to her so often over the last nine months, she could see that now.
He’d apologised with white roses, slow kisses, by cooking special meals when she was bored with her own convenience food, by being particularly attentive with the girls when she’d had an exhausting day with them or Margaret. He’d apologised in the hospital. ‘I thought I was losing you too. It was the most appalling thing.’ ‘I’m really so sorry.’ ‘I let you down.’ Eloise had thought he was talking about the stony silences and the manic search for his birth mother.
Now she understood. He had not dared confess. He had thought he might lose her. As well he might.
Eloise wanted to vomit with the shock. He’d put his dick inside another woman. It was such an ugly reduction but she couldn’t see this any other way. He must have kissed Sara. She tried to comfort herself by thinking that there might not have been any kissing. Sara knew what she wanted and foreplay wouldn’t have been a necessity but then Eloise couldn’t imagine Mark getting down to it without at least a peck. She couldn’t imagine it any which way. The pain was immense.
Her loving husband, the man she depended on, thought of as remarkable, passionate, responsible, incredible. The man who had always made her feel secure had betrayed her.
Once. He had betrayed her once. One mistake in sixteen years. Was that an acceptable level, a human frailty? Or was it the end?
Could she accept this? Should she accept this? And if so, should she stay silent about Cooper?
What was the right thing to do in amongst all this wrong?
58
Mark came in through the back door, bringing the chilly autumn evening with him. He was ruddy, glowing. Eloise noted there was something particularly animated about him this evening. She was sitting in the kitchen, like a statue, a parody of someone reading her email. Eloise stared at her husband across the screen.
‘Where are the girls?’ he asked, as he kissed her briefly on her cheek. His whiskers scratched a tad.
‘Emily is at trampoline club, Erin is upstairs cleaning out her hamster’s cage and Poppy is at your mum and dad’s.’ She couldn’t believe she’d managed to get these words out of her mouth. Out of her head. Hey, surprise, surprise, you’re a daddy again could have slipped out just as easily.
‘Will Poppy be coming home for supper, or is she staying at theirs?’
‘I think she’s eating there.’ She couldn’t believe he looked the same. Sounded the same. This man who had fathered a baby elsewhere.
‘So, just the four of us?’
‘Yes.’
Mark glanced around the kitchen but didn’t see any sign of supper being prepared. This didn’t strike him as odd as Eloise often suggested they go out to eat on a Friday. It was a good way to kick off the weekend. He didn’t mind either way, he’d never been sexist or felt entitled.
‘Shall I put something on or do you fancy going to get fish and chips at Rockfish? We could pick Emily up on the way.’ Mark glanced at the kitchen window. ‘I’m going to have to have a look at that window frame,’ he commented, poking the softened wood which the autumn rain had pounded and penetrated, exploiting the weakness. Mark then noticed that Eloise seemed strangely still and very pale. ‘Hey, are you all right, love? Everything OK?’ he asked, concerned.
‘I was just reading my email. There was a surprise in my inbox.’
‘Your bill from Boden?’ he joked.
‘A letter from Sara.’
‘Sara?’ Eloise wasn’t sure if it was her imagination but she thought she saw him flinch, certainly he wasn’t laughing any more. Mark walked to the kettle, picked it up and filled it. As he brushed past her she smelt the outside clinging on to his suit. He smelt fresh and strong. Wholesome. Was that fair? He paused, looked at his wife again and then considered. ‘Would you like something stronger than tea?’
‘Yes.’
He opened a bottle of full-bodied Bordeaux, poured healthy-sized glasses and handed one to Eloise. It was a garnet colour. Beautiful. She took a sip and found the courage.
‘Sara had some news.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘They’ve moved to Australia.’
‘Really?’ Eloise wasn’t imagining or mistaking his reaction now. She was certain that he looked relieved. He seemed to be focusing on a spot just above her head, anything to avoid meeting her eye. ‘I hadn’t expected to hear from her again,’ he commented as he took a sip.
‘No,’ said Eloise. ‘I don’t imagine we will now. Her letter had an air of finality about it.’
Mark didn’t ask for details. He had no interest in Sara. He wished she’d vanish. He wished he’d never met her. Eloise could see this and she wondered was it enough?
‘As it happens, I have some news too,’ said Mark. He plonked himself down in the chair next to Eloise’s. ‘I’ve had news from the adoption advisor.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘They’ve found my birth mother.’
Eloise gasped. They’d been anticipating this moment for a year now and yet she was still stunned. ‘They have?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh my God. So what now?’
Mark reached forward to take hold of Eloise’s hand. She allowed him to because it felt natural; despite everything, they were joined in this moment. ‘I know this is going to be hard to believe, after everything, but I’m not sure that there is a next. The truth is, I’m not certain I need or want another mother.’
‘Because the one you’ve got is a handful?’ asked Eloise, unable to hide her exasperation.
‘I didn’t mean that.’
She pulled her hand away. ‘But you’ve been looking for a year. That’s pretty much all you’ve been able to focus on.’
Mark was no fool and he could hear the criticism Eloise was lobbing at him. ‘I know, I’ve got carried away with it and you’ve been really patient. Maybe I had to get this far to understand that what I’ve had all along is enough. Is wonderful, in fact. Or maybe things have just been different since Mum and Poppy went missing. Everything changed again, after that.’ Eloise had to admit that since then Mark hadn’t once mentioned searching for his birth mother. Mark shuffled closer to her; he draped his hand around the back of her chair, catching one of her curls between his thumb and forefinger. Shyly he said, ‘This sounds so insane, but I sort of made a deal.’
‘A deal?’
‘With God or the fates. Whoever. It was probably superstitious nonsense but I bargained.’
‘Go on.’
‘If I was to only find one mother, I wanted it to be Margaret. I knew Mum would have Poppy. Despite everything, I knew she’d have kept her safe. I believed it because she’s my mum. I haven’t been in contact with the agencies since but because I’d previously registered, matters progressed at their own rate, without my input.’
‘I see.’
‘I miss Mum, you know. She’s gone but she’s here still, too. It’s so bloody hard. But I don’t want to replace her. She was amazing. Sort of still is. In here in my head, she’s amazing. She’s irreplaceable and it seemed like a betrayal to even try. She wanted me so much.’
‘And that is enough, is it?’
Mark was surprised by Eloise’s tone. He’d expected her to fling her arms around him and congratulate him for reaching this decision. Although she’d resisted ever saying as much, Eloise had somehow managed to give the impression that she’d always disagreed with his search.
‘I think so.’
‘And the fact that she wanted you so much justifies her silence, does it?’
Mark considered carefully. ‘Yes. Truthfully, El, I think it does. I don’t think anything has been made any better because she blurted out the fact I was adopted. It changed everything and nothing. Things were made harder and not necessarily better. The truth isn’t always all.’
‘That’s an extremely unfashionable view,’ muttered Eloise.
‘Well, yes. Perhaps.’
Eloise was trying to take in everything he was saying. She was trying to use the information to decide what she ought to do next. ‘So?’
‘I’m OK. More than OK. I’m so fabulously lucky. I don’t know how I could have forgotten it or taken it for granted. It’s not just about my parents. El, I have so much. I have you and the girls and I’m so very lucky. I don’t need anything more. Anyone more. I have everything I want and need right here. You don’t swap a parent if they turn out to be a bit faulty.’
‘No.’ Or anyone else for that matter.
‘I have the perfect family, Eloise. I think it’s time I started focusing on it.’
For years theirs had been a wonderfully uncomplicated relationship. There was no doubt, drama or palaver. They were meant to be and they’d both believed it from the start. Nothing but calm waters. In this past year they’d ridden storms, they’d been buffeted and battered. Did Eloise have any more in her? Could she wrap herself around the grenade, take the impact, protect her family?
Mark read her mind, or at least her face or eyes. ‘I’m going to make it up to you, Eloise. I’m going to do everything in my power to get us back to where we should be.’
Mark stood up and put on the iPod. Heartfelt, melodic vocals drifted into their kitchen, oozed though their pots and pans, through their past and present.
‘Are you dancing?’ Mark stood in front of her, holding out his hand for her to take. He hadn’t danced her around the kitchen for months; they hadn’t had time to so much as think about such frivolities. His back was still broad and dependable; his shoulders were just as wide and willing to shore up Eloise.
Eloise looked at her husband and hit her biggest ever ‘married moment’. She had a choice now. In one direction she could picture nothing but relentless grey. Today. Tomorrow. For ever. If she took the other route, there would be grey days and black days but many, many of her days would be glorious Technicolor.
‘Are you asking?’
‘I’m always asking.’
‘Then I’m always dancing.’ Eloise reached out and took hold of his hand, allowing him to sweep her around their kitchen, their home. Their life.
THANK YOU
Thank you, Jonny Geller, who has been with me every step of the way. I’m so lucky to have benefitted from your perception, tenacity, support and friendship.
Thank you, again, to my fantastic editor Jane Morpeth and the entire team at Headline who all work so tirelessly and with such enthusiasm. You are a wonderful bunch of professionals; great fun and so full of determined intelligence. Thank you to the wonderful Jamie Hodder-Williams for inspirationally leading such a fine team.
Thank you to Emma Draude for gracefully telling the world when my books are out. Thank you to all at Curtis Brown for their industrious promotion of my work home and abroad.
Thank you to all my readers for giving me hours of your time; I hope I always make it worth your while. Thank you to my family and friends, my fellow authors, book sellers, book festival organisers, reviewers, magazine editors, TV producers and presenters, the Reading Agency and librarians who have so generously supported me in countless ways over the years. I wish I could name every one of you individually but it would run to pages. I think you know who you are.
Thank you, Jimmy and Conrad, because everything I do, I do for you.
I’d like to warmly acknowledge the generosity of a number of people who have supported charities which are close to my heart by bidding for the opportunity of giving a name to various characters in this novel.
Mark English, for his generous support of Alzheimer’s Society, a membership organisation which works to improve the quality of life of people affected by dementia, as well as offering support to partners and families who cope with the demands of caring.
To learn more visit www.alzheimers.org.uk
Helen Ede, for her generous support of Zoë’s Place Baby Hospice, a home from home for babies who have life-limiting or terminal illnesses.
To learn more visit www.zoes-place.org.uk
Alison Glover, for her generous support of Shooting Star CHASE, a children’s hospice service, a charity caring for local families with a child or teenager with a life-limiting condition.
To learn more visit www.shootingstarchase.org.uk
Lydia Pluckrose, for her generous support of Relief for Japan, a project that disbursed funds to organisations providing relief and emergency services to victims of the devastating earthquake and tsunami.
The Leach Family: Andy, Angela, Arabella, Liberty and Hattie, for their generous support of Stepping Stones Down Syndrome Support Group, a group run by parents, for parents and carers of children with Down syndrome.
To learn more visit www.steppingstonesds.co.uk
I thought she was my daughter.
I was wrong.
The compelling new novel from Adele Parks, out now.
Read on for a preview.
Prologue
The doorbell rings.
I feel a flutter of excitement: is it what I’ve been waiting for? I rush to the door before the bell rings a second time and fling it open, but it’s not what I’m expecting.
‘Alison Mitchell?’
‘Yes.’
It’s something to do with the way he says my name, tentatively but somehow officially. ‘Are you – look, I’m sorry. This is going to seem a bit peculiar.’ He breaks off and looks to the ground, awkward. ‘I just need to know, do you have a daughter who was born in St Mary’s Hospital in Clapham between March 27th and 29th fifteen years ago?’
