Page 18 of None of This is True

Alix leans towards her with a kiss and feels the same awkwardness emanate from Josie she’d noticed the first time she’d greeted her this way.

‘No problem! Not at all.’ Alix turns to survey the estate and says, ‘So, this is where you grew up?’

‘It certainly is. My mum’s going to meet us in the community hall. Is that OK? Then you can get yourself all set up.’

‘Perfect,’ says Alix.

She follows Josie through the estate towards a squat building at the back.

Inside, a woman with dyed brown hair and trendy black-framed glasses is pulling chairs around a table. She’s wearing a bright-print summer dress and strappy sandals. She looks up at Alix and Josie and beams. ‘Welcome! Welcome! I got some juice in, and some pastries.’

She is not what Alix was expecting. Where Josie is stiff and unanimated, her mother is all expansive hand gestures and chatter. She’s glamorous, too, clearly takes care of her appearance, sees herself as a woman worthy of attention and respect. She sends Josie to make them teas and coffees in the kitchenette and invites Alix to sit down.

‘So,’ she says, eyeing her frankly. ‘I went and listened to some of your podcasts, when Josie told me about you. So inspiring. I would have had a career to talk to you about, but I devoted all my life to this estate. This estate has been my career, I suppose you’d say. Not that I get paid for it. I do it for love.’

Alix turns slightly to look at Josie. She has her back to them, waiting for the kettle to boil.

‘Of course,’ Pat continues, ‘my first question has to be – why Josie?’

‘Oh!’ Alix laughs nervously. She glances again at Josie’s back. Josie has asked her not to mention the truth to her mother about why Josie wanted to do this. ‘Just tell her you’re making a series about birthday twins,’ she suggested. ‘Make it sound harmless.’

‘Well. Why not Josie?’ Alix says now. ‘That was really my starting point. A woman, born on the same day, in the same place as me. I guess it was a case of the “swapped babies” scenario, but the other way round. We weren’t swapped. We went home with the right parents. But what would have happened if we hadn’t? What would it have been like for me if you’d taken me home? If I’d been brought up here, by you? And Josie had been brought up a mile away by my parents?’

‘Nature/nurture?’ says Pat.

‘Well, yes, to an extent.’

‘You know, I studied Social Anthropology for a while. At Goldsmiths. But then I got pregnant.’ She sighs. ‘Had to drop out. So yes, there’s another “what if” scenario for you. What if I hadn’t got pregnant? What if I’d finished my degree? I’d have got off this estate, wouldn’t I, for a start. And then someone else would have to be here doing what I do. Except they wouldn’t, would they, and then this estate would be a disgrace, like the others round here. So yeah, maybe that’s it. I got pregnant for a reason; I got pregnant so that I could sacrifice my ambitions and save this estate.’ Pat trails off and stares dreamily into the middle distance for a minute. ‘Funny, when you think about it. Strange. But I guess maybe everyone has a purpose. Though some are harder to fathom than others.’ She directs this point towards her daughter as Josie pulls out the chair next to Alix and sits down. Alix squirms. This woman, she strongly suspects, loathes her daughter.

‘So, talking of getting pregnant with Josie – and given that you gave birth to her in the same hospital and on the same day that my mother gave birth to me – what are your memories of that day?’

‘Oh, God. I try not to think about it. I was twenty years old. I wasn’t married. I’d been in denial throughout my whole pregnancy – drinking, smoking. I know that’s horribly frowned upon now, but back then it barely mattered. And I didn’t look pregnant. Not until the very end. Was still wearing my size ten jeans. So I just kind of carried on. And then the contractions kicked in and I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening because I wasn’t ready. I really wasn’t. I had so much I wanted to do. I was halfway through this essay, and I wanted to finish it. And I nearly did, even through the contractions. But then it got too much and my mum got us a taxi to St Mary’s and four hours later, the baby arrived. What happened in those four hours is not something I ever want to think about or talk about ever again.’

‘What time was she born?’

‘God. I don’t know. I suppose about eight in the morning.’

‘And how did you feel, when you first saw her?’

‘I felt—’ Pat stops. Her eyes go across the community hall and stare for a moment, blankly. ‘I felt terrified.’

Alix feels Josie flinch slightly in the chair next to her.

‘Just terrified. Didn’t know what to do. Kept going on about this bloody essay. Finished it.’

‘You finished it?’

‘Yes. Well, newborns, they just sleep, don’t they? Finished it. Submitted it. Got an A. But after that … I suppose I just surrendered to motherhood. Let it subsume me. Always thought I’d go back, finish my degree. But’ – she spreads her hands around the room – ‘here we are. And in fact, I’ve probably learned more about life, more about people , through my experiences here than I ever could have in a lifetime of studying books. So, it all worked out in the end.’

Alix narrows her eyes slightly and clears her throat. ‘And at the hospital, that day, when Josie was born, do you remember any of the other women there? Do you remember this woman?’ She pulls from her bag the photograph that she’d tucked in there last night: her mother, in a grey sweatshirt and jeans, her blonde hair cut into a bob and permed, holding newborn Alix (or Alexis as she had been named by her parents) in her arms, beaming into the camera. ‘I’m about four days old here, just home from the hospital.’

Pat glances at the photo and smiles drily. ‘God,’ she says, ‘Elvis Presley could have been there that day and I wouldn’t remember. It’s all a blur. It really is. How old’s your mum there?’

‘Thirty-one.’

‘Not young.’

‘No. Not young. She was building a career.’

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