A Family To Belong To
He laughed and Kate turned to look at him. He looked much younger when he laughed. Handsome. She hadn’t thought about him for years and yet, seeing him again, it was as though she were seventeen again. She was completely aware of his hand resting in the small of her back. He was hardly touching her and yet…
She moved away, her smile dying on her face. ‘We’d better get back to the cars. It was nice to see you again.’
‘And you.’
‘After such a long time.’ Kate reached into her bag for her car keys. ‘Oh, and thank you for the coffee.’
‘It was a pleasure,’ he said, pulling open the door down to the car deck.
Kate held her long coat off the steps as she walked down in front of him. At the bottom she turned back to him. ‘Well, goodbye. I’m glad we bumped into each other.’
‘I wouldn’t worry too much about goodbye,’ he said, holding the door open for the couple behind. ‘We’re bound to meet again.’
‘A-are we?’ Kate asked, suddenly feeling foolish.
‘Inevitably. Debbie’s looking after my girls today.’ He broke off as someone loudly tooted their car horn. ‘We’d better hurry and get to our cars. People are getting irritated.’
Kate turned obediently and cut through towards her little green MG.
‘Nice car,’ she heard Gideon say, and felt vaguely pleased. Though why it should matter that he liked her car she didn’t know. She forced herself not to look back at him but climbed elegantly into her low-slung car.
Meeting Gideon again had been a bizarre experience. Unexpected. Though there was no reason why he shouldn’t be on the car ferry. Lots of locals popped back and forth to the mainland. It was just she’d been stealing herself for the funeral. She hadn’t expected to meet anyone yet.
She waited while the heavy doors of the ferry opened, watching as the line next to her was sent out first. How could she have been so stupid not to remember about Laura the minute she’d recognised him?
She leant forward and rested her head on the steering wheel, closing her eyes in mortification. It seemed it was her destiny to act like an idiot when she was around him. Maybe some things never changed, however many years passed.
She started the engine and put it in gear. His face had looked so bleak. But then what did she expect? His wife had died. It didn’t get much worse than that.
Certainly she’d nothing to complain about in comparison. Not even Richard’s leaving could really compare to Gideon’s loss. Kate’s hands gripped on the steering wheel as a wave of sadness washed over her. It was never far away. Always lapping at the edge of her consciousness. Making her feel dissatisfied—and angry.
At least Gideon had his children. She would never have that. Never have a family of her own. Never have anyone really love her…
Kate let her car roll forward as the van in front started to move off. And now she had to face Debbie.
There was the bump where the ramp joined land—and she was back on the island. Back where people would look at her and remember she’d been a foster girl. Unwanted. An object of pity. The one with head lice.
Or she had been until Aunt Babs had declared war on them. A bitter battle which had involved her spending hours with her head over the bath, a fine tooth comb scraping over her scalp. Kate smiled grimly and took the road that led towards Newport, scarcely aware of the rain falling heavily on her wind-screen.
If it were Debbie in London, staying in her flat for the weekend, it would have been completely different. It would have been fun. Then they’d have been squabbling over whether to have Indian or Chinese and whether the best shops were in Covent Garden or Oxford Street. Sisters. Almost.
But Debbie on the Isle of Wight was another thing altogether. Here she lived the life Kate wanted and could never have. Here it was like looking into a mirror and seeing an alternative universe, one she wasn’t eligible to enter. The poor child, standing barefoot in the snow, looking through a frosted window at a family opening presents in front of the fire. Still the outsider looking in.
And it hurt. Still hurt.
Debbie had a husband who loved her. Two children. Both boys. Callum and Daniel.
Kate’s heart twisted inside her—as it always did when she thought of how cruel fate had been to her. All she wanted was the simple things in life and yet they’d always eluded her.
She lowered the gear to negotiate a tight bend. She was being selfish. Debbie had lost her mother and was hurting. This wasn’t the time to feel envy.
Because it was envy. Kate recognised it but felt powerless to do anything about it, even though she knew it twisted and distorted her life.
Six years since she’d done this journey and yet she remembered it perfectly. She knew the ancient oak tree that stood proudly on the corner just before she had to turn left and the old pub on the corner. It was all achingly familiar. Round the next bend was the hotel where they played croquet on a summer afternoon.
And if she could have turned away and run she would have. It hurt. Just being here hurt. Knowing that in a few short minutes she’d be sitting in Debbie’s house drinking tea and hearing her children playing somewhere in the house would hurt. Desperately.
She wouldn’t take anything away from Debbie. She loved her. It was just she wanted a little of her happiness. She wanted to know what it was like to hold a newborn baby, to feel its soft little body curved into hers and know she was a mother.
Kate took the car past the hotel and on towards Debbie’s house. Every day there was this intense pain, a huge sense of loss. A column of ice running the length of her body. It didn’t matter that she’d managed to break into a career other people envied, or that she’d bought herself a great flat in Highgate, drove a trendy car. She knew she was a failure. Deep down.
She’d known it when Richard had walked out the door and closed it firmly behind him. He wanted children. Non-negotiable. And if he couldn’t have them with her he was going to have them with someone else.
He’d loved her. Of course he’d loved her. He’d told her. Just not enough.
Not enough. His words echoed in her head.
Over two years ago. The fifteenth of January. On a Sunday. From that day on she’d known it wasn’t just children she’d never be able to have. It was a normal life. The one thing she’d craved since her step-dad had put her in care.
She hadn’t been enough for Richard. She wasn’t enough on her own—and he’d left. Left her incomplete and hurting.
Two months before she had left for Los Angeles. The opportunity of a lifetime—and one she’d needed to survive. And she had survived.
As had Gideon.
Kate slipped into second gear and rounded the final bend. There was no turning back now. She was here to say goodbye to Aunt Babs. Goodbye and thank you.
CHAPTER TWO
GIDEON decided to wait before collecting his children. Give Debbie time to see Kate before he arrived.
He drove straight past her neat nineteen-fifties semi and down towards the coast. Debbie had been so anxious about whether Kate would be able to make it. He didn’t want to intrude. It was bad enough he hadn’t got any choice but to accept her help with Tilly and Jemima. It was too much for her.
The seafront car park was completely deserted, which was hardly surprising this early in the year. The rain had started to fall in fat, heavy drops, which meant the walk along the pebble beach he’d have liked to clear his head wasn’t really possible.
Instead he switched on the radio and watched the wind catch at the waves. The sea was a fair way out now, but at high tide it would be quite spectacular. Primal. This was just the best place on earth. He couldn’t imagine living away from here. All those years he’d spent in cities. People crammed together, rushing around with no time for each other. Look at Kate Simmonds. Somewhere along the line she’d forgotten what was important.
His mind dwelt for a moment on the woman he’d met on the ferry. Possibly she was what he’d expected. She was as carefully turned out as she was on the television, except perhaps her hair was less well groomed. He smiled. On television it fell in a smooth, swinging bob. On balance he preferred it windswept and blown around her face. Made her seem more approachable. More real.
His fingers reached out to re-tune the radio away from the high-pitched woman who was screeching about needing nothing but love. Not much chance of that if she yelled all the time. He flicked through the pre-set channels before settling on the classical one and then laid his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes.
On television Kate seemed commanding and playful. The personification of glossy, successful living. The flesh and blood woman was more confused. Vulnerable. That was the word. Katie Simmonds had always been vulnerable.
And beautiful.
He didn’t quite know where that thought had come from, but she was beautiful. She had a restful, intelligent face. One that came alive because of her eyes.
He remembered her eyes. How they could laugh while the rest of her face was impassive. And how they’d followed him around, devoted. It had been quite unnerving being the object of a teenage crush. He smiled as he wondered whether she remembered.
It certainly wouldn’t happen now. Life had moved on for the cosmopolitan Kate Simmonds. She wouldn’t give a man like him the time of day. Preoccupied, exhausted and old beyond his years. What was there about him that would interest her in the slightest? God knew why that should bother him, but it did.
Kate felt sick. It was as though she’d been punched hard in the stomach and was left reeling on the floor.
Debbie was pregnant.
Very pregnant.
She lifted her hand and waved at Debbie, who was standing in the doorway, before reaching down into the foot-well for her handbag. It was a chance to hide her face for a second. Give her a moment to school her features into delight.
Why hadn’t Debbie warned her? Told her she was expecting a baby, so she could prepare herself?
But she knew why.
Debbie wouldn’t have known how to find the words. Not when she knew how much Kate’s infertility still hurt her. She brushed a hand over her face and opened the door, pulling her collar up against the rain.
‘You’d better make a run for it,’ Debbie called into the wind, one hand cradled protectively over her stomach. ‘It doesn’t look like the rain’s going to stop any time soon.’
Kate slammed the door shut and scurried into the house. ‘This is vicious weather.’
‘You’d better give me your coat. I’ll hang it in the utility room to dry,’ Debbie offered practically. She waited while Kate unbuttoned it and handed it over before she said, ‘We’ll bring in your case later.’
‘I don’t know…Debs, I…’ Kate began awkwardly, her eyes drifting to Debbie’s distended stomach. ‘I think I might be better off staying at your mum’s. I don’t want to get in the way. I—’
Debbie smiled tearfully and then nodded. ‘I know, Kate. I do understand. Particularly with me like this.’ She turned and walked through the kitchen to the utility room.
Kate followed her as far as the kitchen and stood with her back against the melamine worktop. What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she do this? She’d known since she was twenty-two that she couldn’t have children. It wasn’t a new discovery.
‘I thought you’d say that,’ Debbie said, coming back into the room. ‘I put fresh sheets over there yesterday afternoon. I just hoped you might be able to.’
Guilt washed over her. ‘You know I’m really pleased for you. It’s just—’
‘Difficult for you,’ Debbie finished for her.
Kate tried to smile but it didn’t quite work. The corners of her mouth lifted but her breath caught in her throat in a painful lump. Difficult didn’t even begin to describe how painful she found being around pregnant women and babies.
She’d had six years to become accustomed to the knowledge she’d never have children. Six years since a ruptured appendix had changed her life.
Every moment of that time was ingrained in her mind. She could see Aunt Babs, her round face concerned and supportive, sitting by her bed, and hear Dr Balliol’s clipped accent as he told her there’d been only limited damage to one fallopian tube. In itself it wouldn’t have been catastrophic. But…
It was the ‘but’ that had taken away any hope she might have had. The operation had revealed that her ovaries hadn’t formed properly. A ‘genetic abnormality’. She would never have children.
Never.
At twenty-two she hadn’t even realised she wanted children, but the word never was a for ever type of word. It meant for all time. It was beyond her control. It was until the day she died. She would never have a baby.
Kate looked up and met Debbie’s grey eyes. Their gentle expression told Kate that she remembered too. The memory of that time was never very far away—for either of them. Debbie had been thirteen weeks pregnant. The contrast in destiny between the two of them couldn’t have been more marked.
Debbie’s hand lay protectively over her tummy. ‘It doesn’t matter, Kate.’
‘It does. I wish…’ She trailed off, uncertain what she actually did wish. That things were different? That she wasn’t here? That she were stronger and able to accept the things she couldn’t change?
Kate hated herself for not being stronger. She could see the exhaustion in Debbie’s face. Her eyes were bloodshot and tears were obviously not far from the surface. If there’d ever been a time when she could have paid something back to Debbie for her good-natured acceptance of her into her childhood home, this was it. But…
As though she knew what she’d been thinking, Debbie broke into her thoughts. ‘I’m just so glad you’re here. I’ve been half expecting you to telephone to say you wouldn’t be able to make it and I don’t think I can do this by myself. I miss Mum so much. I keep thinking about how she won’t see my baby now.’
Her round face crumpled and Kate forgot herself and reached for her. She wasn’t even aware of the baby bump between them.
‘It’s due in another six weeks. Not long. If she’d just managed to wait…’
‘I’m sorry, Debs. I really am,’ Kate murmured, stroking her hair. For a few minutes she held her, letting her cry softly into her shoulder.
‘I shouldn’t be doing this to you,’ Debbie said, pulling away and blowing her nose in a tissue. ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t do this as soon as you arrived. But I’m just so pleased to see you. I really need you to be here.’
Kate reached out and laid her hand on Debbie’s swollen abdomen. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked softly. ‘About the baby?’
‘I didn’t know how to. Do you mind very much?’
Beneath Kate’s hand she felt a hard kick. She looked up to see Debbie pull a face. ‘Did that hurt?’
‘Not hurt exactly—but it’s not the most comfortable experience. Put that together with the heartburn and swollen ankles; the whole thing’s just perfect.’
Kate laughed as she was meant to. To her ears it sounded dutiful but it seemed to satisfy Debbie. ‘You should have told me,’ she said, pulling her hand away and turning at the sound of the back door opening.
‘That’ll be Gideon,’ Debbie said quickly.
‘Is anyone home?’
Debbie reached across to pull a tissue out of a box on the table and blew her nose fiercely. ‘I wasn’t expecting you for another couple of hours,’ she called out. ‘I hope you didn’t hurry back without getting everything you needed done.’
‘All finished.’ He smiled across at Kate as she pushed back against the worktop.
‘This is Kate. Do you remember her from—?’
Kate cut in quickly, unaccountably embarrassed. ‘We met on the ferry.’
‘Oh. That was nice. I wasn’t sure you’d remember each other,’ Debbie said, as she tucked the tissue up her sleeve. ‘Kate’s not been back to the island much since she left for university. Hardly at all since she started work.’
‘No, she hasn’t.’
There was a slight edge to his voice that forced Kate to look up at him.
His eyes held a critical expression. But fleetingly so. No sooner had she recognised it than it was gone.
Debbie peered out of the back window. ‘Is it still raining out there? Give me your coat, Gideon. It might dry off a bit before you have to leave.’
Gideon shrugged out of his wet jacket but kept hold of it. ‘You sit down. I’ll put it in the utility room.’
Debbie sank down into a seat. ‘I don’t know what the matter is with me today. My ankles have puffed up and I feel so tired.’
‘Take it easy now, then,’ Gideon said, emerging from the small back room Debbie used as a laundry room. ‘How have the girls been?’
‘Just fine, but I’m afraid Tilly’s fallen asleep. Nursery just wore her out today. And Jemima’s got a letter from school about an Easter pageant, but she’ll show you that.’
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ he asked, turning towards the kettle.
‘That would be lovely.’
Kate watched, feeling like a spare part in what was obviously an old friendship. ‘How long have you looked after Gideon’s girls?’ she asked, taking the seat opposite Debbie’s.
Gideon cut in. ‘She’s helping me out for a few days.’
Kate swivelled round to look at him. His face was turned away as filled the kettle.
‘I’m not doing much,’ Debbie said. ‘Just picking them up from school and nursery, then hanging on to them until Gideon collects them. I’m Mum’s stand-in.’
Debbie rubbed her stomach gently. ‘Mum said she’d look after the girls until Gideon’s had a chance to find a good replacement for Ingrid. Emily helps too, of course. Rachel Boyle when she gets the chance.’
Gideon opened one of the top cupboards and pulled down the box of teabags. ‘Ingrid was our nanny.’
‘One day she was there and the next she was gone,’ Debbie said, bristling with indignation. ‘Very irresponsible to behave like that when you work with children.’
‘She’s a city girl and found island life a bit claustrophobic. It’s not for everyone, living here. I shouldn’t have hired her.’ Gideon glanced across at Kate. ‘She wanted more nightlife than can be found in Newport and my hours didn’t help.’
‘She knew them when she took the job. It makes me cross.’
It felt strange listening to Gideon and Debbie talking together. In her mind she’d kept everything on the Isle of Wight frozen in time, everything just as it always had been. But things had changed. Friendships had been forged by circumstances she hadn’t been a part of. Kate was suddenly aware of a wave of homesickness.
Gideon smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘Babs stepped in to help.’
‘You know Mum…’ Debbie tailed off and Kate pushed the box of tissues across the table towards her. Yes, she knew Aunt Babs. She’d never been able to stand by and watch other people struggle when she could do something to help them. Debbie was the same. They were special people.
Debbie smiled a watery smile across the table and took a tissue. ‘Thanks. I’m such a mess. I can’t seem to stop crying.’
Kate looked at her mottled face and red-rimmed eyes and felt guilty. She hadn’t cried yet. Inside her heart was a dull ache, but she hadn’t been able to shed a single tear for the woman who’d been so pivotal in her life. Without Aunt Babs she’d have had a very different future.
‘It’s hardly surprising,’ she said awkwardly.
Gideon brought three mugs of tea across to the table as a small tornado burst into the room shouting, ‘Daddy! Daddy, you’re back!’
Kate felt as though the room had frozen around her. Just for a moment.
This was Gideon and Laura’s child.
Jemima.
The baby Laura had been carrying when Kate had first discovered she’d never have children of her own. It had hurt so much to look at the pregnant Laura then. The woman who had everything she’d ever wanted.
That was the last time she’d visited the island. As soon as she’d recovered from her operation, she’d left. Money from Aunt Babs in her pocket and a postgraduate certificate in radio journalism in her hand, she’d turned her face resolutely away from her past and concentrated on the future.
For a time it had been enough.
Gideon pushed back his chair to receive his daughter into his arms. Jemima looked older than her five years, Kate thought, but what did she know about children? Her hair was a sandy brown, much darker than Laura’s had been, but her face was the same perfect oval. Beautiful. Her arms flew up to hug her father and Kate felt her heart contract.
There was something so unconditional in the love of a child for a parent. She’d even been like that herself. She’d forgiven her mother for almost anything, grateful for a careless kind word. She couldn’t imagine how it would feel to have a warm little figure clinging to you for love and comfort. It must be the most magical feeling.
Across the kitchen table she caught Debbie’s eyes and knew she understood. She’d always understood. Like her mother. Kate tried to smile but it slipped slightly.
‘This is Jemima,’ Gideon said, turning the little girl to face Kate. His strong hands rested on her waist, dark against the pale lilac of her jumper. ‘And somewhere around there’s Matilda.’
‘She’s asleep on Auntie Debbie’s bed,’ Jemima said.
‘This is Kate Simmonds. She’s Auntie Debbie’s sister.’
Kate started at hearing herself described like that. She’d never felt like a sister and yet that was how Debbie always treated her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be, it was just that she couldn’t quite accept that she really belonged. That they could really want her.
Jemima looked steadily across the table at her and then smiled. ‘I’m five.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Kate replied a little awkwardly. Why couldn’t she do this? After all this time? Somehow in the presence of children she just froze.
‘Tilly is three. She’s my sister. Did you know my mummy’s dead?’
Kate looked helplessly up at Gideon, wondering what she should answer. She’d no experience with this kind of thing. None at all. She avoided contact with children wherever possible. There was no point making herself feel worse about everything.
His face was a blank and Kate turned back to the little girl, who was evidently expecting some kind of reply. ‘I know,’ she said again, feeling very foolish. And then, ‘So’s mine.’
‘When did she die?’
Kate looked at the almond-shaped eyes of the little girl and saw in them a real interest. Strange. She’d never before thought that inside a child was a person. Perfectly formed and entirely there. The panic inside her started to recede. She could talk to a person. ‘When I was eight.’
‘I was three,’ Jemima said, almost proudly. ‘She was very sick.’
‘Yes,’ Kate agreed, looking helplessly up at Gideon.
He pulled Jemima towards him and lightly kissed the top of her head. ‘Why don’t you go and get me your book bag? Auntie Debbie says you’ve got a letter for me.’
Jemima nodded. ‘I’ve got to make an Easter basket.’ She ran out of the kitchen without a backward glance.
‘She’s lovely,’ Kate said awkwardly.
Gideon smiled. ‘She’s a good girl.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not very used to children,’ she said, feeling she had to say something to explain her awkwardness.
‘You did fine,’ Debbie said reassuringly. She turned towards Gideon. ‘Kate lives a completely different life from us. She’s not a children person. You should see her flat. It’s all cream and taupe. Can you just imagine the mess my two would make of it all in no time?’
Gideon leant back in his chair, his legs outstretched under the table. ‘Where do you live? Are you based permanently in the States now?’
‘LA was a two-year commitment. I live in Highgate,’ Kate answered. ‘North London.’
He nodded as though he knew it. ‘Do you like living in London?’
Kate thought about it. No one ever asked her that. They always assumed she did. How could you not love living in a great city, with fantastic theatres and wonderful restaurants?