In Her Mothers' Shoes (45 page)

‘All I know is that her name was Elizabeth and she was from Wellington. I can’t tell you anything else.’

‘Can’t tell me? Or won’t tell me?’ Kate had said when she was old enough to feel angry at being denied her birthright. But it didn’t matter what she said, whether she tried to wheedle it out by being nice, or needle Mum into shouting it out in desperation, she never found out her mother’s surname.

So she started each entry: ‘Dear Elizabeth’.

While she waited for her tea, she started to read:

‘Dear Elizabeth

‘I wanted to be different and write a diary without writing to anyone in particular, but it was so impersonal – when I felt alone there was no one to share things with – and so I am writing to you. I have never met you, but somehow that makes it better; I don’t know your tastes or morals and so I don’t have to worry about offending you. Besides, I know that being my mother you will understand all that has happened, is happening or is about to happen. Unless your callousness in disowning me extends to the present and you don’t care what I do. But even then I should forgive you.

It is to you that I owe my life. To you and no one else this book is dedicated.

Your author and daughter,

Kate.’

She smiled as she refolded the page and put it away. How prim and proper and pompous she sounded. Prissy even.

‘Your tea.’ A smiling young woman deposited a slightly dented silver teapot, milk jug, sugar bowl, china cup and saucer on the table and departed, swinging the silver tray.

‘Thank you,’ Kate said as she left.

She poured the tea. It was weak and watery and a stray tealeaf swirled around, following the trajectory of her spoon. She watched it slowly sink beneath the surface, still swirling clockwise on its way to the bottom.

Chapter 3

Wellington, August 2010

It was happening at last. Kate couldn’t believe that in just a few minutes, she would meet her brother and sister for the first time. Her mother had promised she’d tell them the week before to give them plenty of time to absorb the news then her daughter Jessie would pick Liz up from home and take her to Liz’s sister Penny’s place in Plimmerton. 

Her letter set the appointed time. She would be there.

At exactly half past three, Kate parked the rental at the kerb and pressed the bell beside the tall rimu front door of a sleek, well-designed, almost new two-storey house overlooking the sea. The strong smell of salt and seaweed underlined the sound of waves crashing on the stony shore. To the side of the entranceway, she caught a glimpse of the bay under a dappled sun as the southerly clouds scudded across the water.

A woman, who was even shorter than her and perhaps five or six years older, answered the door.

‘Hello. You must be Kate.’ Her smile, welcoming, genuine, revealed teeth just like Kate’s, the same overbite, the same lips. The fringe, the glimpse of a streak of grey hair along the parting line, the chin, the neck – it was all hers. Even the eyes, though a different colour, looked the same, the loose skin over the eyelid, the glasses tucked on top of her head.

It was like a genetic mirror had been held up to each of them.

There was a long silence while they both took it in.

For the first time in her life, Kate had come face to face with her reflective self. Suddenly, she felt a strong sense of connection.

‘Yes. I’m Kate. Kate Stewart.’ She smiled and held out her hand then let it drop; it seemed inadequate. Instead, she stepped forward and held out her arms. ‘You’ve just got to be Penny.’

They embraced.

Kate rubbed her stinging eyes with the back of her hand. This was almost too much.

‘There’s no doubt you’re Liz’s daughter.’ Penny invited her in with a gesture and Kate followed.

‘Liz told me her sister was much younger. I had no idea just how much younger though.’

‘Yes. She was twelve when I was born.’

Kate did a quick calculation. ‘So that means you must be just six years older than me.’

‘Oh my God, you two are so alike.’ A woman, slim, pony-tailed, maybe in her early thirties, had come around the corner into the entrance hall and stood there looking at them, open-mouthed.

Liz and Kate both laughed.

‘You even laugh like her.’ The woman held out her hands in an exaggerated shrug. ‘This is so spooky.’

Kate stopped laughing abruptly and put her hand to her mouth. Could this be true? Was it possible she could laugh just like someone she’d never met? People who grew up together often spoke the same way, used the same inflections, the same words and phrases, the same tone. But there’d been no chance for her to copy Penny’s laugh. This must be what it was like to be part of a family that looked like you, sounded like you, laughed like you; was this where she belonged? And if she and Penny were so similar, what would her brother and sister be like? Even more similar?

Kate studied the young woman. She didn’t see a likeness to herself at all and she was far too young to be her own half-sister. If it wasn’t her sister. Where was she?

‘This is my daughter Michelle,’ Penny said, touching Michelle’s arm. ‘She’s an architect and works in town, but she wanted to come and meet you.’

Kate put her arms around Michelle lightly then studied her. She didn’t look much like Penny.

‘Mum never told me about you until last week,’ Michelle said. ‘It’s come as a bit of a surprise.’

‘I expect it’s been a surprise to you all.’

‘It certainly was,’ Michelle said. ‘I’ll leave you two to talk. I’m off to the kitchen to make the tea. I promised Mum I’d look after you both while you get to know each other. You’ll have a lot to talk about.’ She disappeared down the passage and Kate soon heard a tap running and teacups rattling.

‘It wasn’t such a surprise for me,’ Penny said, looking back at Kate as she led the way through to the lounge. ‘I found out about you some time ago.’

‘You did? How?’

‘My brother Jerry knew. He’d known all along, it turned out. He overheard our parents talking about Lizzie after she’d been sent away.’ Penny stopped walking and turned to Kate. ‘Typical Jerry. He was always sticking his nose in. And once he knew, he couldn’t help ask Mother if it was true. But she swore him to secrecy and he only told me after the Adoption Law changed. He said he was worried you might turn up and thought I should know.’ Penny paused in the hallway beside a long splashy, boldly-coloured triptych taking up most of the wall.

‘A few years after you were born, when Lizzie was having Jessie, he asked her, as only Jerry would, if it was a boy or a girl. She tried to pretend it hadn’t happened, but then she realised Jerry knew. “A girl,” Lizzie said. And she told him the name she’d given you: Felicity Frances Hamilton.’ She smiled broadly and put an arm round Kate’s shoulders. ‘Welcome to the Hamilton family, Felicity Hamilton.’

Kate gasped. It was the first time anyone had called her by her original name.

‘Thank you.’

They continued to walk slowly down the hall, Penny with her arm still around Kate.

‘Jerry found some letters Liz wrote to you when she was still living at home. She got a job for a couple of years until she got married and she must have felt your loss very much during that lonely time. I remember Jerry coming round to visit one day with his baby son and watching Liz cradle him in her arms like she didn’t want to let him go. I didn’t know at the time, of course, but she would be missing you terribly then.’

‘But I never got any letters.’

‘No. They were never sent. Jerry found them when he was cleaning out our parents’ house after Father died. There was such a jumble of things in boxes in the attic and that’s where your letters were. Tied in a pink ribbon in an old shoebox with Lizzie’s diaries and photos from school. Jerry said they choked him up That’s quite something for him. He’s a real rugby head, your Uncle Jerry. A man’s man. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry.’

‘You don’t know what I would have given to see them when I was a teenager. I wrote a diary to my mother – to Liz – every night.’

‘I expect she would have liked that.’

Penny led the way into a vast, arched lounge with a sweeping view across the sea to Mana Island. Sun was streaming through the window highlighting the steel grey carpet and the fat charcoal cane chairs and couches arranged to capture the view. Bright aqua and sky blue cushions and a large sea-coloured oil painting highlighted the marine theme.

It was a lovely room but it was empty. Where was Liz? Where were her brother and sister?

‘Is my mother here?’

Penny looked uncomfortable. ‘No. She couldn’t make it.’

‘But she was going to bring her kids. She said she was going to tell them about me and I could meet them.’

‘She never told me that.’ Penny looked even more uneasy. ‘She said it was just her you were expecting; she didn’t say about Jessie and Rick.’ Penny paused, looked out to sea then back at Kate. ‘She must be scared of telling them. She must be terrified of the shame she was made to feel when she was pregnant with you – the shame of disgracing her family and herself. She’s put that shame into a box and screwed the lid down tight, and now she feels it slowly escaping again and threatening to envelop her.’

‘But people don’t feel like that any more. Her kids wouldn’t want her to be ashamed.’

‘I know. But we can’t possibly understand what it was like for her then. The legacy of that time is that she doesn’t want anyone else to know. She found it hard enough telling me about you, asking me if I’d see you instead.’

‘She chickened out,’ Michelle said matter-of-factly as she came into the room. ‘She does that sometimes.’

Michelle was carrying
a tray of cups and saucers, a teapot and milkjug. She set it down on the coffee table and started pouring the tea. ‘Mum wanted to do it properly. She’s been baking.’ She indicated a plate of plump almond biscuits.

‘I’m impressed.’ Kate accepted her tea with milk and selected a biscuit. ‘Thanks Michelle . . . and you too Penny.’

Penny laughed. ‘It’s nothing. Hopefully it’s better than the supermarket.’

‘Okay, Mum, I’m off now. I’ve done my bit.’

‘Won’t you stay for a cuppa?’ Penny asked.

‘No. I came to meet my new cousin and now I’m going to leave you two in peace.’

After saying goodbye, Michelle returned to the kitchen and a few moments later Kate heard the front door close.