Forgive Me (48 page)

So much had happened since then: discovering
more about Flora, meeting Patrick and Gregor, falling in love with Phil, her terrible
suspicions about her own origins, and then the fire. But she did feel that all these
things, good and bad, had given her new strengths. She thought she was more confident,
less concerned about other people’s opinion of her, and she was becoming more
self-reliant.

It had been a severe body blow to learn
Flora’s statement
wouldn’t put Andrew behind bars. Not
just because he’d tried to kill her, but for all the hurt and humiliation he had
heaped on Flora. Maybe a great many people would think Flora deserved the life he gave
her. But Eva knew better; she was a good woman.

In another ten minutes she would be arriving
in Carlisle, and it was even more unclear to her now why she felt compelled to come all
this way.

Was it purely an emotional response, because
the girl was young, sick and alone? Did she think that it was some form of restitution
or apology for what Flora did? Or because she could hear Dena’s voice telling her
that one of the tarot cards she’d turned up, the rabbit, was a vulnerable family
member who needed her help?

She’d told herself hundreds of times
that the whole tarot thing was just ridiculous mumbo-jumbo, but she couldn’t deny
that some of what Dena had told her appeared to have come true. But what if this was
more of the sleeping serpent thing? What if, by seeing this girl she knew very little
about, Eva would get drawn into something that she’d regret later?

Her stomach began to churn with anxiety.
Freya might be her biological sister, but she’d been brought up in a different
world to her, and there was no guarantee that they would like one another. In fact it
was quite likely that Freya might resent her, because she’d had a much better
childhood.

On arriving at Carlisle Station Eva stood
for some time looking at the departure board, wondering if it would be wisest to get the
next train back to London. She looked down at the carrier bag in her hand. In it was a
basket of toiletries from The Body Shop, which she’d bought for Freya at
King’s Cross.

‘You can’t go back without
seeing her,’ she told herself. ‘That’s plain cowardice.’

That decided her – she’d come all this
way, and it would be pathetic to chicken out now. She didn’t have to take on any
responsibility for the girl; it was just a visit, and she could make that quite
clear.

There was just half an hour before the
hospital’s evening visiting hour. So, bracing herself, she bought some fruit and
chocolate too, then caught a taxi to the hospital.

With butterflies in her stomach, Eva walked
down the big ward. Nearly all the other beds were occupied by old ladies, and the sister
had told her Freya was at the far end. As she approached the bed, she saw Freya was
lying on her side, hunched up with her back to all the visitors coming in. Eva’s
heart went out to her. It was awful to think that someone so young had no one other than
a total stranger to visit her.

‘Freya?’ Eva said softly as she
approached the girl’s bed.

She rolled over on to her back to look at
whoever was speaking to her. She had been crying, and she quickly put her hand over her
eyes to hide the tears.

‘I’m Eva, and it looks as though
I’m your sister. I’ve just come up from London.’

Freya took the hand away from her eyes.
‘Really!’ she said, looking startled. ‘You came all that way just to
see me?’

Eva didn’t speak for a few moments,
because it was extraordinary how alike they were: two sets of identical blue eyes, the
same full lips and small nose slightly turned up at the tip. Freya was painfully thin,
her long hair desperately needed washing and trimming, her nails were bitten down to the
quick and her skin was rough and wind-burned from being outside in all weathers. But the
similarities between them would be obvious to anyone.

‘Yes, just to see you. I was told you
weren’t very well.’ Eva smiled. ‘Now, are you going to sit up and talk
to me?’

In books long-lost relatives always seemed to
have an instant connection, falling upon each other’s necks to hug and kiss. But
it wasn’t like that with Freya. Although she sat up, wiped her eyes and thanked
Eva politely for the fruit, chocolate and toiletries, she was very guarded and awkward.
Her strong Cumbrian accent was a little hard to understand too.

Eva had to make all the running. Having no
idea how much Freya knew about the sister who had been taken long before she was born –
or even if the police had made it clear to her why her blood had been tested, and what
that meant – she had to explain everything. Then she went on to tell her about finding
Flora’s diaries after her death, and how she began her own investigation in
Scotland to see if she could find out who her real father was.

Freya didn’t react to any of it; she
just sat up in bed picking at her nails and avoiding looking directly at Eva. It was as
if she wasn’t interested in any of it.

‘There was a photograph of a row of
shops in her stuff too, and someone in Scotland told me it was in Carlisle. So I came
here looking for that street,’ Eva went on. ‘Then I found out about the baby
that had been taken from there and I suspected that baby was me. I didn’t want to
think the woman I thought was my mum had done such a terrible thing, but I’ve
found proof now that she did.’

‘Is that right?’ Freya said with
what seemed to Eva complete contempt.

‘The police officers who came to tell
me about the results of the blood test also said you’d told the Carlisle police we
had the same dad. Have we?’

‘Yes, but he’s dead now. And Mam
might as well be. Everyone thought she’d killed you. Did you know that?’

She spoke in an accusatory manner, which
unnerved Eva.
‘Yes, I did hear that, Freya. That was very unfair
of people to claim such a thing without any evidence to back it up. And it must’ve
been very hard for you growing up with that hanging over you?’

‘You aren’t kidding! It followed
me everywhere. Mam didn’t help things neither, what with her drinking and carrying
on. She’s a bad ’un.’

Eva had every sympathy for the girl. But
having come so far to see her, she had expected to receive a little warmth, not
hostility – after all, she wasn’t the one to blame for anything.

‘I’ve had some very bad times
too since Flora died,’ Eva said in an attempt to make Freya see she wasn’t
the only one who had suffered. ‘The man I always thought was my dad tried to burn
my house down with me in it, because I found out about all this. His children, the
people I thought were my brother and sister, hate me too because of it. But what
I’m trying to say, Freya, is I know you’ve had it tough ever since your
birth, and I had a cushy childhood compared with you. But we’ve both got to move
on now.’

‘Easy for you to say.’ Freya
looked Eva up and down in contempt. ‘You’re posh. You’ve got nice
clothes, pretty hair and somewhere to live. I’ve got nothing. Even my clothes are
all gone, and they weren’t much to start with. Mam sent me to stay with that witch
Ena, even though she knew what it was like there. Ena wanted me to have sex with old
dirty truckers. She hit me when I refused! She asked what I had to be so stuck up about.
Said that my mam would do it with anyone for just a tot of whiskey. She threw me out
then, and I had nowhere to go.’

Freya’s voice was gradually becoming
shriller with anger. The old lady in the next bed and her younger visitor were both
turning their heads to see what was going on.

‘Do you know what it’s like to
sleep on the ground in a
place that don’t even have a
roof?’ Freya went on. Her eyes were flashing, and red angry spots were appearing
on her white face. ‘Do you know what it’s like to not be able to have a
bath? To sleep in your clothes because it’s so cold, and be so hungry that you
hang around picnic places hoping someone will leave some food behind? You were the lucky
one that got taken away by someone that wanted a bairn. All I’ve ever known was
people sneering at me.’

Eva was shocked at the angry tirade. She was
embarrassed that people were looking at them, and her instinct was to rush out of the
ward and get the first train back to London. But she knew, if she did that, it would
just prove to Freya that no one in the world cared whether she lived or died.

‘Don’t take it out on me,
Freya,’ she said sternly. ‘I didn’t have to come all this way,
remember. I came because I thought it was the right thing to do, because we are sisters.
I know you’ve had a bad time, and I am sorry about that, but don’t think
I’m so soft that I’ll take you being rude to me.’

Freya looked quite shocked.

‘Right, I’m leaving now.
I’ve got to find somewhere to stay tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow to see you
again, before I go home. And I hope by then you can be polite.’

Eva walked away and didn’t look back,
but as she got to the ward door the sister stopped her. She was a big woman with a very
red face. ‘How was Freya with you? I can see you are related, you are so much
alike.’

Eva guessed that the sister knew about the
Carling family history and perhaps even suspected Eva was the stolen baby. But Eva felt
far too despondent to admit that.

‘Yes, we are related, but I’ve
never met her before today,’ Eva said. ‘I don’t know that I did the
right thing coming here. She’s so angry, and I might have just made her feel
worse.’

The ward sister put her hand on Eva’s
shoulder. ‘That
poor girl has been dragged up. God only knows
what terrible times she’s lived through. She doesn’t feel she can moan or
complain to any of us – I dare say she’s afraid, if she did, we’d discharge
her. But you arriving with gifts probably made her think that she could unburden
herself. She’s only a child still, and one that has had precious little love and
care.’

‘I know that.’ Eva felt she just
might burst into tears herself. ‘I just don’t know what to say, or what to
do to make her feel better. She seems to resent me.’

‘I’m sure she doesn’t
really. From what I’ve seen of her, she’s grateful for just the tiniest bit
of kindness. But I’ll have a word with her later, tell her that you only wanted to
help her. And please come back tomorrow. Don’t worry about visiting hours, morning
or afternoon will be fine with me, I know you’ve come a long way.’

Eva looked at the nurse’s kindly face
and felt a bit ashamed. ‘If I buy her some clothes and bring them in, will she see
that as me being a do-gooder and throw them back in my face?’

‘If she does, I’d be tempted to
smack her bottom!’ the sister said with a smile. ‘The trouble is,
she’s got so far down she can’t see the way to climb up. New clothes will be
the first rung on the ladder. And I know the social worker is looking out for a home for
her right now.’

Eva spent a restless night in a guest house
she found close to the hospital. All she felt for Freya was pity; she was sad, because
she had wanted to feel something more than that. But maybe Freya thought she had come to
visit her like she was some exhibit in a zoo. And then she was going to walk away,
having satisfied her curiosity.

She did intend to go back again – she
hadn’t come all this way to give up at the first hurdle. But what then? Even if
Freya was different in the morning and they did strike up
some sort of
bond, she couldn’t go home afterwards and forget about her. That would be too
cruel, and would confirm the girl’s opinion that no one cared about her. But it
was 300 miles from London; she couldn’t keep coming up here. She needed to get
back to work, and there was Phil to think of too. Neither could she suggest that Freya
came to London. If she did that, she’d have to be responsible for her.

That was what really scared her – feeling
she owed Freya. But why should she feel that way?

After a shower the next morning and a big
breakfast, Eva was feeling a little more positive. She’d made a list of things
Freya would need when she left hospital, including a warm coat. Buying clothes for her
might be seen as patronizing, but Freya needed them desperately. And besides, it was the
only concrete thing Eva could do to help.

She packed up her overnight bag, paid her
bill and then walked into the town centre to the Lanes Shopping Centre.

It suddenly occurred to her as she was
walking that Flora must have come back here at some time and taken the photograph of the
row of shops where she’d snatched Eva. She couldn’t have taken the photo on
the day she stole the baby – no one would do such a thing, even if they had a camera on
them. Did she feel it was a necessary bit of evidence to back up what she’d done?
Was it some compulsion to return to the scene of the crime? Or maybe she even hoped to
discover if the hue and cry was still going on here? Eva doubted that the papers in
London would have reported much on a crime that took place so far away.

She’d learned so much about Flora in
the past few months, yet there was still so much she didn’t know.

In Chelsea Girl she first ascertained if
whatever she bought could be changed if she’d got the wrong size. Finding that it
could, she picked out a black quilted coat with a furry lining and
some size eight jeans in a short leg length. She’d noticed a lot of girls in
Carlisle were still wearing ski pants – a trend that had died a death in London. But she
wasn’t going to encourage that awful fashion statement. She bought two different
sweaters – one pale blue with an appliquéd satin bow on the front, and the other a
leopard print in fuchsia pink and black. With a pair of plain black trousers and a
couple of T-shirts, she felt she’d made up a basic wardrobe that was both
practical and pretty.

Next she went to Marks and Spencer to buy
underwear. She got two bras, in different cup sizes – to be sure one fitted her
properly, and then she would change the other one – and four pairs of knickers that
matched the bras. Some pyjamas, slippers and a warm turquoise scarf with matching
gloves, plus a card with three different-coloured scrunchies to tie her hair back, and a
hair brush completed the shop.