Page 94 of All the Things We Never Knew

I pulled a tie out from the extensive collection Gray had amassed over the years – even though it was ages since he’d needed to wear one regularly. This wasn’t silk like most of the others, but polyester, with wide maroon and narrow gold stripes against a navy-blue background. I’d never noticed it before – and certainly never seen him wear it. I peered at it more closely. On the wide end was a crest I recognised.

‘Oh my God,’ I said. ‘It’s his old school tie. From St Gwbert’s.’

Laurel leaned in to look. ‘I wonder if Joel still has his too.’

‘He must have had some happy memories of that place.’ I ran the tie through my fingers. ‘Or he wouldn’t have kept it.’

‘The rest of them can go to charity, can’t they?’ Orla said. ‘They’re in perfect condition. Someone might want to buy the lot for an upcycling project – a cushion, or even a woman’s skirt.’

I handed her the heavy bundle of rainbow-coloured silk, then sat down on the bed, still holding the old, cheap tie.

‘I should send it to Louisa,’ I decided. ‘But I feel… I’d feel almost like I was fobbing her off, when I still haven’t decided what to do about introducing her to the kids.’

‘It’s a big decision.’ Laurel sat down next to me.

After our separate visits to Wales – she to see Joel, I to meet Louisa – we’d had a debrief over coffee. I’d told her about the letters Gray had written to his mother, all the cards and notes sent over the years, as well as the final one, which Orla had admitted posting after Gray’s death as he’d asked. Laurel had told me about cycling on the Taff Trail with Joel, and said how much Gray would have loved it – but I sensed that there might be something else about that visit that she wasn’t ready to confide in me.

I nodded. ‘I think, if Gray was able to make the choice now, he’d probably want her to be in their lives somehow. They’re older now and she lives far away. And her mental health is quite stable now. She won’t damage them like she damaged Gray. And that wasn’t even her fault, really. Poor woman.’

‘Have you told them about her?’ Laurel asked. ‘I mean – that she wasn’t dead after all?’

‘I haven’t. I know that if I did, they’d want to meet her – of course they would. She’s their grandmother. They’d be curious, apart from anything else, and – well, it’s a link to their father. It’s an important thing.’

‘Family and identity.’ Orla removed a stack of suits from the wardrobe. ‘Would you want to keep one of these for Barney, Anna? He’ll grow into it in a couple of years.’

‘Maybe the grey one. That was his favourite. What were you going to say – about family and identity?’

Orla sighed, laying the suits on the bed and turning back to the wardrobe. ‘Just that they’re important. And they’re tied so closely to each other – especially for teenagers, who are just figuring out who they are. It was around then that Beatrice became so determined to track down her birth mother – me. If people don’t know the full truth about their background, it makes it harder for them to grow into themselves. And secrets are harmful.’

Her back was to me, but I saw her shoulders rise and fall in another long sigh. I knew that she was thinking not only about Barney and Lulu and the secret I was considering keeping from them, but also about something else – something closer to her own heart.

‘Which of these need doing?’ Laurel moved over to the chest of drawers and opened the top one – the one where Gray’s socks lived. I remembered with a flash of sadness how I had found the earrings Gray bought for her in there, all those months ago. I would never tell her how that had made me feel – although I was fairly sure she could guess.

‘They wouldn’t have to meet her if they didn’t want to,’ she went on. ‘Or if they met and didn’t get on, it could kind of run its natural course, if you know what I mean.’

‘You’re right.’ I pulled out a bundle of socks and pants. ‘These may as well all go straight into the textile recycling. After all, older kids don’t see their grandparents that often. They only spend a few days a year with my mum and dad.’

‘It’s not really about what Gray would have wanted any more,’ Orla pointed out, turning back to the wardrobe and lifting out a sheaf of casual shirts on their hangers. ‘He made his choice. And from what you’ve said, he regretted it – but he couldn’t go back on it until it was too late. It’s about what you want, Anna, and what you think is best for those children.’

I removed a pale pink linen shirt from her arms. ‘I’ll keep this for Lulu. She used to nick it and wear it as a beach cover-up when we were on holiday. It’s – for me, anyway, being in touch with Louisa is also about having another part of Gray in my life. I know it sounds selfish, but⁠—’

‘It’s not selfish at all, Anna,’ Laurel assured me.

‘And speaking of which,’ I said, ‘you’re not just here to work. If there’s anything of his you’d like to keep, you must say.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Thanks, Anna. I’m so grateful you asked. Except, maybe…’

While she was speaking, I’d opened the next drawer down, which held Gray’s cycling clothes – the endless pairs of padded-seat leggings and Lycra jumpers that always used to make the kids say, ‘Oh look, it’s Bradley Wiggins,’ when Gray came downstairs dressed for a ride.

‘Maybe what?’ I asked.

Tentatively, she reached out and took one of the cycling tops from the pile. It wasn’t even a particularly nice one – just a regular long-sleeved red jersey in technical fabric, with a half-zip down the front.

‘Maybe this?’

I looked doubtfully at the top, then at Laurel’s narrow shoulders and slim waist. It had been tight on Gray, but it would be ridiculously baggy on her.

‘Are you sure? Of course, you’re welcome to it. But isn’t there something else you’d like? A watch or something?’