Page 152 of The Stranger in Room Six
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I hand in my two weeks’ notice.
‘We’ll miss you,’ says the manager. ‘No one else listens like you do.’
‘I’ll miss you all too,’ I say. It’s on the tip of my tongue to confess, but what would that do? Imran and I have been talking about what our own business could look like: a charity for women starting out on their own – something that I could have done with after leaving prison. It feels good to give something back, though I will always carry my guilt about Gerald and now Mabel.
Shortly afterwards, Stephen turns up to visit Karen at the same time as Elspeth comes for lunch on my day off.
Of course it was bound to happen one day. But here they are. Arriving in the reception and signing in one after the other, without knowing they are half-brother and sister.
I could keep quiet. I could just nod at Stephen and go out for lunch with my daughter. But I don’t. Instead, I tell her who he is.
‘You’ve set this up,’ she says furiously.
Why are adult children so condemning?
‘No. I didn’t know he was visiting at the same time as you.’
Then Stephen turns. I watch the realization dawn on his face.
Elspeth gasps. ‘You look just like Dad,’ she whispers.
‘So do you,’ he says.
I go and wait in the car park, leaving them to talk or not talk, whichever they feel more comfortable with.
When Elspeth gets into the car, I can see she’s been crying.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I honestly didn’t know he was going to be there.’
‘It’s all right, Mum,’ she sniffs. ‘I’m glad we met, actually. It helps to put it all together.’
I don’t ask if they have plans to meet up again or introduce him to Gillian. I reckon that’s their business.
But a few weeks later – just before Christmas – I receive a text from Elspeth. Can I meet her at the Regency Hotel on Christmas Eve?
‘Would you like me to come with you?’ asks Imran.
‘Not quite yet,’ I say gently.
As I go into the reception area, I see a tall, strapping fourteen-year-old who has my nose. Next to him, is my daughter Gillian.
‘Hello, Granny,’ he grins. ‘I’ve been wanting to meet you for ages.’
My grandson! ‘And I’ve been wanting to meet you too, Gerald,’ I choke through tears.
‘Actually, I’m known as Gerry.’
I can’t help feeling relieved.
Gillian doesn’t hug me. She doesn’t even take my hand.
‘We’ve all been talking,’ she says stiffly. ‘We thought we ought to try again, for everyone’s sake.’
‘Thank you,’ I gulp. I make to hug my eldest daughter, but she hesitates. Instead, I reach my hand and slowly, very slowly, she stretches out hers. I feel the touch of her warm skin. Just briefly. But it’s a start.
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