Page 62 of Lost Luggage
Phoebe scooched over the carpet, to Dolly. ‘My parents didn’t bring me up,’ she said. ‘Gran did and then Granddad. Families can be messed up; I learnt that at high school – I had friends with parents who hardly spoke or made things difficult after a divorce. A girl in my class lived with her older sister and her sister’s fiancé. Another was fostered. One lived with her gran and a Labrador; she spoke about that dog as if he were a brother.’
Maurice had become family. He was always there. He made Dolly want to care for him in the same way that she’d never begrudged looking after Greta.
‘Once my mum was gone, relationships framed my life,’ said Leroy. ‘Along with work, we’d built a strong team at the restaurant and supported each other through deaths and illness. And I think I’m going to be right at home at the Rising Sun. Then there’s Jamaica, the family over there I never knew about all these years. Winston and I talk regularly online.’
‘Mum and Dad are always talking about labels and how we shouldn’t use them,’ said Flo, taking Dolly’s hands. ‘That could apply to families as well.’ She looked away. ‘My secret has taught me that, anyhow.’
The silence that fell was interrupted by the kitchen timer. Leroy got to his feet and Phoebe followed him. Fred gave Dolly a hug. She took his hand. Skin on skin, it felt so intimate. He tickled her palm with his thumb like he always used to and for the first time all day her breathing eased. And a sensation she hadn’t experienced for so long flickered in the pit of her stomach.
‘Flo, can you help me for a minute?’ she asked.
Flo followed Dolly into her bedroom and threw herself on to the bed, moving her arms and legs as if making snow angels, the kind of spontaneous happiness Dolly hoped her young neighbour would never lose. Flo hadn’t seen the new lamp before, in the shape of a flamingo standing on one leg, nor this duvet set – she loved the purple colours. It matched the dark purple bedside table that was actually a small vintage suitcase permanently open and attached to the wall. Attracted by how neat and compact it was, Dolly hadn’t been able to resist bidding on it in 1987, thrilled with the contents that included a colourful batwing jumper and a pair of red pixie boots with shiny buckles.
However, an increasingly uncomfortable sensation ran through Dolly, when she came across an upcycled case in the bungalow, the table in the conservatory, the cupboard in the kitchen, the aluminium flowerpot in the garden. Since seeing Phoebe’s upset at losing the trunk, since finding out about Greta’s true longing to travel abroad, she couldn’t help feeling even more sad that the belongings were parted from their owners and hadn’t reached their true destination. Yet the sisters had given each case a new purpose and made use of the contents where possible.
Dolly lay down next to Flo. ‘I want you to help me pull something through to Phoebe and Fred – I’ve had a twinge in my back today – but first… your secret. You’ve been such a good friend, listening to all my problems, being there for me these last months. How about you let me in?’
Flo bit on a fingernail. ‘Okay. But only because I think it will help you.’ She shuffled into the mattress. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m adopted.’
Dolly turned her head away for a second. What? She hadn’t expected that. So it wasn’t that Mark wasn’t her real dad – Flo didn’t believe either of her parents were blood-related. She looked back to scan the nose shaped just like Mark’s, the hands that danced in the air when she became enthusiastic, like Kaz when she spoke about a new contract the business had landed. Dolly would never have guessed. With Flo approaching her teens, they might have thought now was the right time to drop hints.
‘What exactly have your parents said?’
‘Nothing. I’ve been very cross about that.’
Dolly lay on her side. She reached out and pushed away a lock of hair from Flo’s face. ‘What’s made you think this, then?’
‘It’s been more obvious since year six. They’ve understood me less and less. We always argue and never agree about important stuff. I used to think that was normal until I heard a girl talking in the toilets at school. The evening before she’d found out she was adopted and told her friend it made sense. She’d always felt on the outside, like I do.’
‘A lot of children feel like that, especially as they approach the teenage years.’
But Flo had proof. A boy at school said you can’t have ginger hair unless one of your parents has. Georgie in her class had red hair, like her mum. Callum did too and his dad’s was ginger. Flo’s mum was blonde and her dad was mouse, whatever that meant. The only mice Flo had seen were white and furry or plugged into a computer.
Flo sighed. ‘At first it took away the trust – if they didn’t tell me the truth about such a big thing what else were they hiding? So I get why you might be angry with Greta. But in a year or two that anger might disappear. I’ve decided, now, it doesn’t matter so much. You see… Mum and Dad have made a real effort lately, with all the insect stuff. Theydocare. And since I’ve met Fred who grew up in children’s homes… Greta loved you, isn’t that the most important thing? Mum knows the exact tickle spot, above my hip, that always gets me laughing. If I’m fed up at school, Dad makes me waffles with chocolate spread, my favourite.’
Greta knew exactly how to cheer Dolly up – a game of Scrabble with a shandy and a packet of cheese and onion crisps.
‘I don’t like doing lots of different activities or social stuff like they do,’ continued Flo, ‘with their golf and Zumba, and evenings out with friends, and I think cleaning’s boring. But… they want me. Even when I’m in a mood. That’s enough, isn’t it?’ Her face puckered for a second and she turned away, lying with her back to Dolly. ‘I was very angry last year and got really fed up when they suggested Guides, thinking they were trying to change me again, that’ – she buried her face in the duvet – ‘that they were disappointed with the baby they chose, if I wasn’t biologically theirs.’ Her voice sounded muffled. ‘But with your help, Guides has turned out all right.’
Dolly moved closer and placed an arm around Flo. ‘Of course, you might be wrong.’
The two of them just lay there for a while.
‘What did you want me for?’ Flo asked in a full voice, and stood up, wiping her eyes.
Dolly pointed in the corner of her bedroom. ‘Help me with that, love.’
‘Okay. First I need the loo.’ She disappeared out of the room, bumping into the door frame as she did so.
Lying awake all last night, Dolly had begun to understand why Greta had kept such a secret, but that didn’t mean she believed big things should be kept hidden. She slid her phone out of her back pocket and scrolled until she came to Mark’s number. Quickly she texted, asking him to pop around after Flo was in bed tonight. A jewellery box, on her dressing table, caught her attention. It was white leather, a little battered now. Greta had bought it for Dolly’s sixteenth birthday. When you lifted the lid a ballerina spun around on a disc and music played. Dolly had said she was the best sister ever.
She thought about Phoebe being brought up by grandparents, Fred by strangers but later finding his own family unit. Then there was Leroy who found a sort of family at work, and more recently with relatives afar online. And now Flo who’d decided that, if her suspicions were proved, there were worse truths to find.
Worse truths aplenty there could be, than finding out a mum did everything she could to keep her daughter close, after a man had treated her so ruthlessly; that she had made sacrifices to put her child first, believing she was doing the right thing. The toilet flushed and Dolly put away her phone. She went over to the jewellery box and lifted the lid; the ballerina spun around and around.
‘Look at your buns!’ said Leroy to Flo, as she and Dolly appeared by the kitchen door. ‘Perfectly rounded. Mine didn’t rise as well but at least the pastry on top looks like an S. The M and D letters look great on yours; your parents will love them. Now we need to ice them.’
Dolly and Flo pulled Fred’s steamer trunk into the kitchen. Dolly patted the top of it and smiled.
