Little blue door box set, p.14
Little Blue Door Box Set, page 14
‘Oh.’ She lowered her spoon. I don’t think she intended to harm me with it but she’d had a crazed look about her when she flew into the room, with eyes red from fighting back tears and her washed-out wavy hair fluffy with static like it’d been rubbed with a balloon. ‘I’m just dishing up.’ She said. Don’t be long.’ With a slight rib twitch, she turned back to the kitchen.
I didn’t know what to say in response to her outburst so I just carried on to the car. When I came back, the fold-up dining table was out and she was placing the two armchairs beside it. I think my mouth had stayed open the whole time.
Chapter 19
‘I thought we would eat indoors it’s more civilised,’ she said.
I didn’t reply; I just sat down, still holding the gift all wrapped in tissue paper. She was starting to lay the table around me: knives, forks, salt, pepper, rattan place mats, then food. Not a word was spoken. Only when she sat down did I pass the gift across the table. The first gift from my hands to hers. She took it carefully and unwrapped it slowly. Her whole face lifted into a smile as she saw the photo of us. She gently stroked the glass with her thumb then pressed it to her chest, just as I had. A tear tripped and danced its way down her face.
‘I’m sorry to blurt that out. I didn’t want you to find out like that. I didn’t want you to find out at all.’ She placed the photo on the table, wiped her cheek and indicated to me to start eating.
My stomach was pulling, churning, and acid burned at my throat. It didn’t matter; I picked up my cutlery and proceeded as instructed. The delicate lamb fell apart and filled the room with the smell of oregano and onions. I managed two mouthfuls before my cutlery was down.
‘I need to know more. I’m sorry but I do. My father abducted you? Why? What happened? Does that mean he wrote the letter? How? Everyone thought you’d run away. The letter made sense to everyone…’
‘So truly no one ever looked for me? I guess it’s no surprise. I wasn’t easy to live with as a teen. I would never have left you, though. Not out of choice. No matter what he wrote in some stupid letter.’ She didn’t look up from her plate. ‘I loved you. He had to drag me away from you kicking and screaming. Now please eat your dinner. Unless you don’t like it. I can make something else. I have some pasta.’ She was already starting to stand up.
‘No, no! This is delicious!’ By way of proof, I began to eat with vigour, hoping it could earn me more information.
Kicking and screaming? Abducted by my father? Nothing was making any sense to me, and the last thing I wanted to do in that moment was eat a lamb dinner and be civilised. The heat and the information curdled in my belly. It made it hard to keep eating, but I did, quickly. She was watching me out of the corner of her eye, until she had enough of my haste. She dropped her knife and fork in a clatter. There was a long silence; she choked on her food a little and scrambled for her napkin to cover her mouth.
‘The man who had got me pregnant, your father, took me from my home. I didn’t want to leave you. I didn’t want to be with him. He took me. Eventually, he brought me here and I lived as his wife until he died seven years ago. I lived in fear for most of my life.’ She spluttered a little, but her words were firm but calm. She didn’t look at me; instead she carefully picked up her knife and fork to eat. As though that was it. I could tell she wouldn’t say more. I decided to bide my time.
‘Do you like the frame?’ I managed to rouse a smile from her round lips. She had made more effort that day. At some point before dinner, she had pulled her hair back into a bun and was wearing a little lip balm, or maybe gloss, across her lips. Her terracotta dress was the worse for wear but was an improvement on the T-shirt and old trousers of our first two encounters.
‘I love it, thank you. It’s so very kind of you. At last I have something worth displaying.’ Thirty-one years and nothing to display. What sort of life had it been?
‘I’m pleased you like it.’ Three more mouthfuls and I’d be done.
‘I do. It’s so beautifully carved. I’m not sure if I’ll keep it down here or put it upstairs.’
Two more mouthfuls and I’d be done.
‘I think down here, perhaps. I probably spend more time down here.’
One more mouthful. Done.
‘You know,’ She said. ‘I still can’t believe you’re here. You’re beautiful.’
‘Thank you.’ Instinctively I looked down at my dress and brushed my hands across the soft fabric. It was the same purple one I had worn on my birthday. I’d wanted to make an effort for our first family meal. She looked at me with sombre eyes. She was slow to finish eating, chewing each mouthful carefully. As soon as she was done, I had to start again.
‘Grandmama and Grandpapa said you left. They really thought you’d run away, left me. You said “kicking and screaming”? Surely you knew about the letter? I’m so confused!’
‘You’re confused? I hadn’t. I wouldn’t. All I can think is he did it straight after taking me.’ She stood up, picked up the plates and was back off to the kitchen, leaving me once again. This time I started putting everything back where it came from, like a child tidying toys at night, desperate for story time. Only this felt more like watching a horror story unfold.
Sh returned and we sat for a moment. I knew I’d have to start, have to nudge her to talk. There was no way it would come out naturally.
‘So…Why did he abduct you?’ In my mind they were in love. He was too passionate and she was using him as a cover. A cover for wanting to leave me. She was only young and an unplanned pregnancy was a lot less romantic than coming to live in Corfu.
Her hands pressed her head, and she took a few deep breaths before she began, hands falling over her eyes for an extra moment as she began to open up.
‘Because he was evil. When I was fifteen, he was twenty- eight. Back then I thought he loved me.’ Her hands rubbed her temples before they dropped to her lap.‘ He would treat me, take me to expensive restaurants and such. Back then he was quite good-looking too, and I used to lie and tell Mum and Dad I was going out with my friends. I knew they wouldn’t let me spend time with someone so much older. They would’ve been right, of course.’ She spoke softly and steadily, not looking at me. I was spinning again with the new information. Fifteen and twenty- eight? ‘For a short time, he locked me in a room in his house, not far from Mum and Dad. He told me you’d be better off without me and, with time, I believed him. Even now, looking at you, I can’t help but think he was right. He told me no one wanted me and no one was looking for me. I guess he was right on both counts.’ She looked at her hands ruefully, and clenched them like screwed-up paper, before releasing them and looking at me.
‘You’re here now,’ she said. Her round eyes became wide as she looked me over. I thought I likely looked rather ill; I felt ill. Fifteen and twenty-eight. With so many thoughts in my head everything was starting to turn into confetti, thrown in the air and impossible to retrieve.
‘So, wait’ —I managed to catch a thought— ‘who was he? My father?’ My father the child abductor, a confetti piece I wish I hadn’t caught.
‘His name was Adam Jones. He worked in banking – he was very intelligent, always good with numbers and statistics.’
This was bizarre.
‘Wait —’ I caught some more confetti. ‘You said he died seven years ago – that’s plenty of time to find me. Grandmama and Grandpapa lived in the same house you grew up in, so I wasn’t exactly hard to find!’ I was thinking more clearly and snapped a little. My emotions were running high and her house was as hot as a cauldron.
Her eyes snapped into focus.
‘After over twenty years of emotional and physical abuse, I didn’t believe any of you would be interested in seeing me. You didn’t look for me – he told me you weren’t. He obviously knew about the letter, and I didn’t. At first, I used to try to check newspapers, but there was never a sign that they had looked for me. And – and – I couldn’t go…’
‘Why? Why not?’
‘No, I – I just – I knew that Mum and Dad would keep you safe, and I just held onto that. I always thought of you, every day – what you were doing, what you looked like, if you liked drawing or dolls, sports or science. But I was afraid, I was a fool.’
I felt like I was outside my body. The only thing that kept me knowing I was still inside it was the urge to vomit. I had to excuse myself to her bathroom. Within moments I was upstairs in her home clinging to a pale peach, pristine sink, looking into a cabinet mirror. Looking down at my purple dress, I felt a little silly, embarrassed at my own sexuality. I shook my head, making hair stick to my face. There was just me, my shallow breathing and the reflection. It’s not about you, I told myself, it’s about her, your mother, who didn’t leave you, who was taken from you. I ran cold water on my hands and combed it through my hair with my fingers, taking comfort in the familiar sensation. Stepping out of the bathroom, I could see into her bedroom which, again, was a hollow space that comfort had forgotten. One bed, one cupboard, two cabinets – nothing more, not even an extra pillow. I took my time creaking down the stairs to meet my mother, who sat patiently waiting for my return.
‘This is a lot to take in,’ I said. ‘When I first met you, I just thought you were embarrassed about leaving me, or you just didn’t want me around. I never imagine—’
‘I didn’t want you to know what your father was like. I wanted to keep protecting you from him.’
‘Keep protecting? What do you mean, keep?’
‘Hmph…’ She rubbed her forehead with aggressive fingers. She wriggled in her chair, pulling at the hem of her dress to tug it over her knees before continuing. ‘He said if I left him, he would hurt you, so I never left him. I never tried to run. I would rather he hurt me than you, and I couldn’t risk it now, could I? It’s not as though you would have been hard to find. You said that yourself.’
My incredible, strong mother.
‘So you spent your whole life saving mine and I didn’t even know? I wish you had come back.’ The air felt so heavy and my chest was so tight it was like taking in water; drowning in the information, and I couldn’t swim. But still, I had to know more. ‘What actually happened back then? Start from the beginning, I’m getting so confused.’
‘Well, as I said, we started going out when I was fifteen. We actually met at a friend’s party; he, Adam, would treat me so well. He made me happy at first, always the gentleman, opening doors for me and telling me how pretty I was – flowers, chocolates, anything I wanted. Then, when I turned sixteen, he started to force himself on me, saying I owed him. It was very confusing because he had been so loving and charming, and some days he still was, then the next day he would be forceful and aggressive and violent. Sometimes he would tell me I made things up and I would wonder if it was all a bad dream. It was only looking at my bruises that kept my sanity at times. When I found out I was pregnant with you I was too afraid to tell anyone. I only admitted it to myself when I was over six months gone; I told Mum but there was no way I could say who the father was – I didn’t dare – and it caused so many arguments. I wish I had said now. I was a child myself when I look back – I was stupid and naive. My parents wouldn’t let me out after I told them I was pregnant. I hadn’t seen him in months. It was difficult at sixteen with teenage hormones and pregnancy hormones too; I used to kick back a lot and there was only my parents to take it all out on. I didn’t want a baby – I’m sorry, but I didn’t. It was only once you arrived that it changed. The day he came and took me I think he was shocked to find me with a baby. He was so angry. I don’t know if he had planned to take me – I never asked – not that he would have told me if I had. I had been about to take you out for a walk – your first outing in the pram Mum and Dad had got you. He pushed the pram back inside the door, slammed it shut and took me. Well, that’s the simple, less violent version.’
The silence. Silence to absorb my father’s name: Adam. Silence to absorb what he was: violent. Silence to hold in my urge to cry.
‘Can I have some more water, please?’
She jumped up and scurried off into the kitchen. My mouth was dry from holding it slightly open. I couldn’t breathe. It was like the tiny room was getting smaller and yet the contents were somehow getting bigger. I tried to inhale and I couldn’t; my throat was closing up. I groped at my neck and broke the necklace I was wearing. I didn’t care. I had to leave. The door had been left ajar and I ran out of it, still clutching the necklace. The blood-red sunset blinded me and the wind slapped my face. I managed a small breath. I was hunched over, holding my knees and shaking, ready to fall. Liliana, my mother, my beautiful mother, was by my side holding my arm. She knelt, bare knees in the dirt, to see my face and to stroke my hair. She reminded me so much of Mama; she would have been a wonderful mum if she hadn’t been taken from me. I felt so bad at how angry I had been at her for so many years; I still felt anger that she could have found me seven years ago, but I tried to see how she must have felt. Everything was spinning. I could hear her voice, soothing and calm in my ear, but I don’t remember the words. I just remember her eyes stayed on me as she led me back into the house.
She got a fan and plugged it in right next to me.
‘Is that better? Sorry it gets so hot in here – I can’t afford air conditioning. I guess I’m mostly used to it now, after so many years.’ She was back to kneeling by my side and clutching the arm of the chair.
‘I’m sorry.’ My voice was quiet against the power of the fan. ‘I couldn’t breathe, I needed air.’
She got up and grabbed the glass of water from the little table.
‘Here. Drink your water.’ I took it and sipped slowly. It did help. It gave me something new to focus on. The fan was blowing my hair fiercely, making my ears ring.
‘All these years I thought you didn’t want me. If we’d known… You realise we were all coming to this island for holidays? Most years. I mean, other Greek islands too, but…you were less than an hour away from us.’
‘I chose the island. He told me we had to go. We couldn’t stay in England. We were in a few different countries following his work – Germany for six or seven years – all over the place really. Eventually, I persuaded him to come here. I would tell him stories of the Greek islands – this one in particular. I’m sure you know we used to holiday in Sidari. I hoped that one day I might be lucky enough to see my parents on holiday. Sometimes I could persuade him to take me to Sidari for the day – although not very often. In my head you were still a baby, of course, and I’d pick you up and never let go.’
‘Can we sit outside? In the shade?’ I couldn’t bear the closed-in walls any longer.
She led me through the small galley kitchen and outside. There were white chairs and a round table underneath a greying umbrella. I stumbled towards them. Slumping over the table. The metal table dug into my arms.
‘You were only, what, forty when he died? That’s so young. You’re so young now.’
Even though she’d had a hard life, she was full of potential. I wanted to dress her, do her hair and makeup.
‘I feel about a hundred,’ she laughed. ‘I have for thirty-one years. I’m so happy you’re here. Please don’t hate me…’ Her voice was pleading on the breeze and she carefully laid her hands on the table.
The more I looked at her, the more everything fell into place. Her odd little ticks, her – at times – stilted movements, all too well thought out. You can’t brush twenty years of abuse under the table. She needed me as much as I needed her.
I told her I didn’t hate her; how could I? She had just been a child. I wanted to reassure her. Only, the desire to run away and hide from the thought of my biological father kidnapping, raping and beating my mother was overwhelming. If I hadn’t had more questions, perhaps I would have left then. I asked her if there had been others like me, the undesired result of rape. In a strange way, I was hopeful.
Her lip trembled when I asked, and her chest heaved and her fingers pinched at her knobbly brown knees.
‘A son. Your brother, Phillip.’
I let out an elated gasp. I wanted to know everything about him. Where he was, how old he was. She was pointing to the back of the small rectangular garden. Her shoulders rounded and caved in, then her head dropped and shook. Without a word I walked to where she had pointed. There, pressed into the dry ground of Corfu, stood a small wooden cross with “P.J.” scratched into it. I squatted down next to it. It was the sort of headstone you’d give a beloved family pet. I had to touch it to check if my eyes were seeing it correctly. The edges were sharp and sun- bleached. I could hear my heartbeat as my jugular throbbed.
‘What on earth happened?’
‘I could hide it for a long time, being pregnant. I thought I might be able to keep it. I must have been eight months when he realised. He didn’t want children…’ She paused and looked up to the sky. ‘He was a sadistic man. He – he beat me but with purpose – he really didn’t want children. It brought on early labour and I was in and out of consciousness. I remember him pacing and swearing at one point and, it was the strangest thing, I was there in the pain of it one moment then it was like a dream, like it wasn’t real. When I eventually came round, I mean, really came round, the house was quiet. I begged to see the baby; they’d need feeding. He just shrugged, said, “It’s dead.” Eventually he told me it was a boy, and he’d named him Phillip and buried him without me. I’d been so sure I’d heard him cry – it must have been in my dream.’ Her voice was barely audible; tears streamed from her eyes but she didn’t bawl. She didn’t scream or shout. Her eyes were bloodshot and set in pink rings from rubbing the lines of tears away. The tip of her nose had gone red too but that was it. I felt ashamed of myself. For everything. For not knowing sooner, for my own self-pity for years on end, for snapping at her and for not enjoying life when I had the freedom to do so.
