Page 84 of Lessons in Life

‘We’re here,’ Junayd said, ignoring her question, but taking her hand and running across the road towards the town’s railway station where a line of white taxis was waiting for customers. ‘There you go, you’re safe now.’

‘How are you getting home?’ She turned to look into Junayd’s face, struck once again by his beautifully chiselled features, his dark brown eyes, his dark hair.

‘I live just at the other side of the bus station. Where all the newcomers live. The Irish and Poles have moved on and upwards. It’s the turn of the West Indians and us now.’

‘You sound slightly cynical.’ Eloise was proud of that word.

‘I suppose I am. Workers are invited here from the old British Empire to fuel the local industries – to keep Britain going – but we’re not appreciated. And downright frowned upon if we try to get the education we have to have in order to move up in life.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry? Why on earth should you be sorry? Oh, because of who your dad is?’

‘I suppose so.’ Eloise paused and then, knowing her face was aflame, suddenly asked: ‘I say, I know this is awfully cheeky of me, but would you perhaps give me some lessons?’

‘Lessons? Oh, with the camera?’ Junayd frowned. ‘What would your dad and your brother say if they knew about that?’

‘I think they’d be delighted,’ Eloise lied.

‘I think they’d be horrified, Eloise.’ Junayd stared at her, taking in the earnest face, the full mouth with its long upper lip, the naturally streaked blonde hair that was beginning to escape from its pink ribbon. ‘Encouraging me to teach you to use your camera would never be on their agenda. And you know it.’ He turned and, before Eloise could thank him properly, he was gone.

27

ROBYN

‘So?’ Mum, looking after Lola in Jess’s absence, had been standing watching at Jess’s sitting-room window for us to return from Sheffield. Once she saw Jess’s car pull up in the drive, she was at the open front door waiting for us.

‘Let us get in, Mum,’ I called up the drive. ‘Is the kettle on?’

‘So?’ Mum asked again once we were inside.

‘Oh, Mum.’ I went straight in for a hug. ‘You poor thing, having her for a mother.’

She didn’t say anything but sat down heavily on the sofa and then jumped up again, going to the kitchen and filling the kettle noisily as if, by this action, she could rid herself of unpleasant memories. I checked my phone once again. There was nothing from Fabian. But then, why should there be? He’d gone back over to Harrogate to help Bruce put together a particularly puzzling flatpack wardrobe that Jemima had earlier given up on. Said he would stay and eat with them. I just hoped Alexandra Brookfield wasn’t helping as well.

‘So?’ Mum demanded a third time and I could see her hands, tucked around the mug for warmth, were trembling.

‘Yes, they’re both in Sheffield, and at the address Jo gave us from the electoral roll,’ I said.

‘I thought they might have gone back to Surrey.’

‘Mum, where’s your birth certificate?’ I turned to Jess. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, why didn’t we ask Karen Foley for the birth certificate?’

‘Because she’d never have given it to you.’ Mum pulled a face. ‘Don’t you thinkIasked? And searched for it? She said it was lost in the move from Surrey. The Foleys didn’t tell me for years that I was adopted and then, I can’t remember how, it somehow came out. Mother just said I was lucky, that I’d been chosen and given a good Christian home and the best education ever that no otherlittle bastardlike me could ever dream of.’

‘She didn’t call you that?’ Jess was horrified.

‘And the rest.’

I shook my head. ‘Mum, she’s horrible.’

Lisa gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Is it any wonder I tried to forget about her? Got out as soon as I could? And him? Adrian Foley? He was just as bad.’

‘In what way?’

‘Unpleasant, spiteful, cruel.’

‘Cruel? Did he… you know… did he hurt you?’

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