Page 78 of Lessons in Life

‘Apart from him not thinking it appropriate to mention the ex.’

‘Robyn, he’s up here in Yorkshire with you; his family are in London. He’s got his suit out – and on – and is taking Joel’s case. Give the man a break.’

That shut me up and, unable to come back at Jess, I stared out of the window at the tall stone terraced houses in the residential area the satnav had now brought us to.

‘You do know they’re probably dead,’ Jess said, breaking the silence. ‘Or in a home?’

‘The Foleys are on the electoral register from a few years back. They’re obviously not at the same address as when Mum upped and left thirty-seven or so years ago with Jayden – that was the St Mark’s school house address – but they’ve only moved a mile or so down the road…’ I broke off as a somewhat austere school building set behind gates, but with acres of fields sporting both rugby and football posts, was suddenly in front of us. ‘Hang on, slow down,’ I instructed. ‘Look, that’s the school. St Mark’s! That’s it. How weird to think Mum was brought up here. And she never let on. Never told us she was educated at a public school. D’you realise, she’s actually still Lisa Foley? I know she goes by the name of Allen, but in reality she’s Foley.’

‘No, that hadn’t occurred to me.’ Jess peered through the dark at the poorly lit road ahead. ‘Just let me concentrate on this satnav.’ Following instructions, she took a left, carried on a main road for a good five minutes and then turned onto a road of large gloomy Victorian villas.

‘Over there,’ I almost shouted. ‘There, Jess, the green painted door. Pull up, there’s a space.’

Jess drew up outside the house, but didn’t switch off the engine. ‘Just remind me what we’re saying if they answer the door? Hello, Grandma? Grandad?’ Jess gave a nervous titter.

‘We just tell them the truth. That we’re Lisa’s daughters and we need to know more about her condition.’

‘Yes, but they won’t know anything about her porphyria. She didn’t have any symptoms of it until she was into her thirties.’

‘Well, we’ll explain all that,’ I said. ‘It’s her birth family we want to know about. Let’s just get inside. Play it by ear. Come on.’

‘You sure about this?’ Jess said as we walked to the door. ‘I feel nervous now.’

‘Me too. Mum said they were always pretty religious. Maybe we should say we’re Jehovahs? The Sally Army? That we want to pray with them? Over them?’ I started giggling.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Jess shot me a look. ‘Act your age, Robyn.’ Which made me titter more. She reached for the metal door knocker in the shape of a hand. Green with age, it resembled a grisly specimen at a murder enquiry and, once she’d given the door a good bang, Jess let go of it, repelled. ‘They’re coming. Look serious, kindly, interested…’

‘Which one?’ I panicked, trying each one on for size.

‘All of them,’ Jess whispered as the door slowly opened on us.

‘Yes?’ The stoop of the woman behind the slightly ajar front door belied her actual height. I could see she was, in fact, exceptionally tall for a woman in her eighties and of her generation. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘What is it? I’m not buying anything. I’m not interested in your politics, if that’s what you’re about.’

‘Is it Mrs Foley?’

‘Who’s asking?’

Jess glanced across at me and tried again. ‘Mrs Foley? My name’s Jessica Butterworth. This is my sister Robyn…’ Jess swallowed and smiled. ‘The thing is…’

‘Mrs Foley?’ I took over, trying the kind, social-worker-type smile Jess had suggested. ‘Do you think we could possibly come in and have a chat?’

‘Are you from the papers again? Because, if you are, I’ve nothing to say. I’ve said it all.’

‘The papers?’

I hesitated and Jess, finding her second wind, announced in a too loud voice, ‘Karen? May I call you Karen? We’re Lisa’s daughters. Lisa Foley’s daughters.’

The woman stared and her hand on the door edge trembled slightly. ‘She’s dead.’

‘No, really, Karen, she’s not. She’s alive and kicking and?—’

‘Dead tome,’ the woman spat, attempting to close the door on us.

‘Please, Karen, could we come in? We really need some information.’

‘What sort of information?’

‘What you might know about Lisa’s birth mother and father?’

---