The Happy Family by Jackie Kabler (electric book reader txt) 📕

was scared, you know? And then I realised, well, I’m turning sixty soon, and who knows what might happen? Who knows how much time I might have left? I couldn’t put it off any longer, Beth, scared or not. It was time. And I’m so glad I plucked up the courage. I’m so glad, so grateful. You could have slammed the door in my face and nobody would have blamed you for that, least of all me. But you didn’t. Can I … can I just ask one question too?’

‘Of course.’

‘Did he … did he look for me? Did he try to come after me when I left?’

I hesitated for a moment, wondering what to say, and then decided to simply tell her the truth.

‘He didn’t. Not really. He never saw the point … You left a note, after all, didn’t you? Telling him you were leaving and that you wouldn’t be coming back? At first I think he thought you’d change your mind after a few weeks or months, but even when you didn’t, well … it was your choice, wasn’t it? And when friends would worry that maybe something had happened to you, I remember him always shaking his head. He always said he was a hundred per cent sure you were still alive out there somewhere. He did report it to the police eventually, but only because so many people nagged him about it. But he never thought anything bad had happened to you, and nor did the police, as far as I know. That’s why they never instigated a search for you. It was one of those things … well, she’s an adult, she’s free to go where she likes …’

I left it there, realising she was nodding, shifting uncomfortably on her chair as if she’d heard enough. And then I forgot about it all together because a few minutes later she told me something that made my mouth drop open.

‘You have a sister, Beth. Well, a half-sister, of course. Olivia. Liv. Her dad isn’t on the scene. He was an artist. I met him when I lived in Newcastle for a bit, but he buggered off when I told him I was pregnant. Didn’t bother me. I’d grown up so much by then. I was well into my thirties and I decided to do it properly this time. Be a mum, you know? Do it on my own. Oh God, Beth, I’m so sorry. That sounds awful …’

She started to cry again and reached for me, pulling me into an embrace, hugging me hard.

‘I’m sorry, so sorry. I thought about you all the time. I did, honestly,’ she whispered, her face damp against mine. ‘But I was so young when you were born, and after I left … as I said, I thought you were better off without me, you know? Later, when I had Liv, when I was finally grown-up enough to be a proper mother, I thought so many times about coming back, about taking you to live with us, but … well, I didn’t know how you’d react. I didn’t want to disrupt your life and your schooling and all that, all over again, or take you away from your dad … I’m so sorry, love. I really am.’

I clung to her then. I’d thought for the past hour or so that I was OK, that the joy of having her back had somehow erased the pain of the past. But this news, the news that my mother went on to have another child, suddenly brought the old feelings of rejection, of abandonment, crashing back.

She left me behind, and then had another baby. And she kept this one. She didn’t walk out on her. She stayed. Why her and not me?

And then, just as suddenly, yet again it didn’t matter anymore. It should matter, I knew that. I should be demanding explanations, shouting at her, telling her how much what she did devastated me, how it ruined my childhood and took me to dark places I thought I’d never leave. But I just … didn’t. I didn’t want to. Not now. Not when I’d just found her again. Maybe not ever. Because now not only was my mother back in my life but I also had a sister, for goodness’ sake! A sister. I’d longed for a sibling as I grew up, and now …

‘Tell me about her. Tell me everything,’ I said.

She laughed through her tears, wiped her eyes, and obliged. Olivia, Liv, my little sister. She’s just twenty-four, sixteen years my junior. She has a degree in international business and Spanish from Edinburgh uni (business studies, like me!), and works for a big shipping company in Plymouth. I asked for a photo, and in it she smiled back at me, a pretty, blonde, petite girl in a black polo-neck jumper and tight jeans. I felt a shiver of joy.

My sister. I have a sister.

‘We can call her, FaceTime or whatever maybe, during the week? I’ll message her later and tell her I’ve really found you,’ Mum said. ‘She’ll be beside herself. She’s a sweetie. You’ll love her. The spit of her father, facially. She’s got our hair though.’

Our hair. My mother, my sister. My family.

We talked more about me after that – my career, Jacob, the children, the divorce. We opened a bottle of champagne the girls at work gave me for my birthday in February (I’d decided to keep it until I had something to celebrate, never dreaming it would be this), and we clinked glasses and laughed and talked until we were both exhausted. When we finally went to bed just before midnight, I couldn’t sleep for hours, overwhelmed by such a gamut of emotions that I just lay there, staring wide-eyed into the dark. I was still ecstatic, of course, at my mother’s return, and yet … as the clock ticked round to 1am, and then to two, the thoughts swirled in my head and I began