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Tears roll down her cheeks. “I need to tell her. I need to explain. Or, if I can’t tell her myself, I need you to do it for me. Make sure she knows how it was. Tell her about me, and that I had no choice. I’d have done anything to make things different…”
“But how will I find her?” It never occurs to me to refuse, but I have nothing to go on. This Naomi could be anywhere in the world.
“Your father knew…”
“Yes, but—”
“No. I mean, he knew where she was, at least to begin with.”
“Oh.” I furrow my brow, try to make sense of all this. “I don’t understand. How did he know?”
“He was in the police, like you.”
My father was a police sergeant, a career copper. Even so, these things are confidential.
“He made me give her up,” she continues. Her expression becomes wistful as she casts her mind back. “He made me hand her over to social services.”
“Made you? No, he’d never…”
My dad has been dead for five years. It was because of him that I decided to apply for the police, to make him proud. I wanted to be like him. He was thirty years in the job, but more important, he was the kindest, gentlest man I ever knew. I adored him, and his death just two years into his retirement was one of the greatest injustices ever. He deserved to end his days enjoying himself, and I suppose he did. He dropped dead on the fourteenth hole when he was three strokes under par. A massive heart attack. It was instantaneous, and there was absolutely nothing to be done.
I can’t believe that this kind, loving father wouldn’t have accepted a little girl into his life. He loved children, loved me. Even if she wasn’t his, he’d have loved Naomi, too.
“We weren’t together then,” my mum goes on, as though she can hear my thoughts. “I was arrested, for breaking a window. He was the custody sergeant, and he was kind to me. He let me sleep on the settee in the interview room rather than locking me in a cell, and he found something for Naomi to eat. Me, too. He was a nice man, but he knew I was out of my depth. And he was right. I couldn’t cope. So, I did what he advised me to do. I gave her up, so she could have a better life. I… I just left her there, at the police station. I walked out and never came back.”
For a few moments I’m speechless. Then, “Oh. Mum. That must have been awful.”
She nods. “It was. My heart broke that day. I thought I’d die of it. I was so miserable, so racked with guilt. Inadequate, you’ll call it, I suppose. For the next couple of years, I just… well, I can barely recall what I did. I slept rough, messed about with drugs and drinking, got in with the wrong crowd, and naturally, I got arrested again. Several more times, actually. Drugs, theft, shoplifting.”
I’m speechless. What is there to say anyway?
“Your father was still there, still the custody sergeant. He got me into a hostel eventually. I got probation and a fine that last time. I’d no money, obviously, so he paid the fine for me. We became… friends. He was a bit like a big brother to me, but somewhere along the way that changed. Then, you were on the way, so we got married.”
I’m still not sure what to say. My memories of my father take a battering. Did he take advantage of a vulnerable, lonely girl? I’d known he was quite a bit older than her, but that never seemed to matter to them. It never occurred to me to question their relationship. They were happy. We were a close family.
“I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t like that.” She glares at me. “He was a good man, a kind man. I wanted him. I loved him. He took care of me, always. And you.”
“Okay. So…?” I’m not convinced, and I’m not entirely sure she is either. Whatever, it’s all water under the bridge now, I suppose. “What about Naomi?”
“He made enquiries, soon after we got married. I wanted her back, so much. We would have had her…”
“Why didn’t you?”
“She’d been adopted already. Almost immediately, they said. People want babies, you see. By then, she was five years old. She was settled with a nice family. She wouldn’t even remember me. I’d turned her world upside down once, I couldn’t do it again. Legally, she wasn’t mine anymore. We talked, your father and me. We decided we’d no choice but to leave things as they were, and hope that eventually she’d come looking. She never has, though.”
“Maybe she…” I trail off, uncertain what to say.
“She could have had her adoption file when she was eighteen. That’s years ago now. If she wanted to find me, she could have.”
“I’m sorry.” It seems so inadequate, but it’s all I have.
“I’ve waited, hoping… But time’s run out. I thought I had longer, but I don’t. So I need you to go find her, tell her about me.”
“I…”
“Please, Ruthie. Please, do this for me. There’s no one else I can ask.”
I close my eyes. Really, what choice do I have? “Okay, Mum. I’ll find Naomi for you.”
