Page 80 of Lessons in Life

‘Are you sure you’re not fromThe Courier?’ Karen’s eyes narrowed. ‘Four years, he was given.’

‘A prison sentence?’ I breathed. ‘For what?’

‘I told you,’ Karen said crossly. ‘Adrian was innocent. He did nothing. He’s a headmaster, for heaven’s sake. Of one of the most prestigious schools in the country.’

‘Well, not any more, Karen,’ Jess said gently, not sure what to say next. ‘I’m sure he must have retired years ago.’

There was another good minute’s silence and I wondered if we should be going. ‘Do you have any photos of Mum?’ I eventually asked. ‘You know, as a little girl? We’ve never seen any.’

‘I do not,’ Karen snapped crossly. ‘I burnt any we did have – school photos and the like – once she turned out to be a trollop. Just like that mother of hers.’

‘Oh, so you did know Lisa’s birth mother?’ I said quickly, seizing the opportunity.

‘Of course, I did. I wasn’t likely to take on the bastard child of just anyone.’

‘She was of Indian descent, I believe? Mum’s birth mother?’

For a few seconds Karen looked puzzled and then offered up another little smile. ‘I told her that because I didn’t want her finding out who her mother really was. I didn’t want her snooping, going off to find her like they all do, these adopted children. They’re given a good home, a good Christian upbringing and then what do they do once they turn eighteen? Go searching and upsetting people. After all we’d done for the ungrateful little bitch. The top education she received. The good, God-fearing home we gave her.’

‘So, Karen, would you tell us what you do know about Lisa’s birth mother, then?’ I asked, smiling encouragingly, despite the old woman’s vitriol.

‘She was always asking the same.’

‘Who was?’

Karen Foley waved her empty cup angrily at us. ‘Lisa, of course – that so-called mother of yours. Can’t imagine she was any good at it, being a mother.’ She cackled again. ‘Oh, she might have had a beautiful face, might have been clever academically – and shewas, Mr Foley made sure of that – but she was sly, that one, sly and manipulative, always wanting toknow. To know… to find out…’ The woman leaned back, clutching at the arms of the chair.

‘What was it she wanted to know, Karen?’ I asked.

Karen glared at me. ‘She wanted to know where she’d come from. Who her real mother was. But there was no way I was letting on how we ended up with her.’ She cackled almost maniacally. ‘D’you think we were mad?’

* * *

‘Yes, I do think you’re mad, Karen Foley!’ I fastened my seat belt, speaking for the first time after leaving the house. ‘Mad as a bloody hatter. Poor Mum, being brought up by those two.’

‘Oh, Robyn, she was horrible.’ Jess sat back in the driver’s seat, not attempting to start the engine.

‘You didn’t see the old man in the dining room. He was like something out of a horror film. All twisted and… and bulging eyes. He’s obviously had some sort of stroke. I wonder if they get any help. Are social services involved?’

‘Not your problem. Don’t go there,’ Jess said angrily. ‘Poor Mum.’

‘So, her mum wasn’t from India? Which means her dad must have been, then?’

Jess shrugged. ‘I don’t think I’d believeanythingKaren Foley says. She probably changes her story all the time. And what on earth was that about Mum being a thief?’

‘Well, I certainly don’t believe that! Interesting though, about Adrian Foley. Headteacher of one of the most prestigious public schools in the country and yet he ended up doing four years in prison.’

Jess turned on the ignition, resetting her satnav back to Beddingfield. ‘You don’t think he was some sort of… you know…?’ Jess trailed off. ‘You don’t think he wasinappropriatewith the kids in his care?’

‘Well, it won’t be difficult to find out more. Hang on…’ I reached for my bag, taking out the phone. ‘I’ll google him.’

‘Can you do that without being car sick?’ Jess glanced across. ‘I couldn’t.’

‘Out of battery,’ I said crossly, tossing it back into my open bag. ‘We’re not getting very far, are we?’

26

JULY 1968

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