Page 85 of Lessons in Life

‘He hurt me with words.’ To my horror, big fat tears rolled down Mum’s cheeks unchecked. ‘What did he say to you? I can’t imagine he welcomed you in, once he knew who you were.’

‘Mum, he’s in a bad way,’ I said, taking her hand. ‘He must have had a stroke, I think. Paralysed down one side and couldn’t speak. Surrounded by his cats.’

‘Cats?’ Mum pulled a face of disbelief. ‘Cats! He hated dogs and cats. But particularly cats.’ She frowned, obviously remembering. ‘I always wanted a cat but he said they were filthy creatures…’ She broke off and gave a slightly maniacal giggle. ‘This’ll be Mother getting her revenge; she never let anything go without getting her own back. He’s paralysed? Can’t move? So, she brings a load of cats into his room, probably onto his bed? On his pillow…?’ Mum brought a shaking hand to her open mouth, her eyes wide.

‘Revenge for what?’ Jess leaned forward, taking Mum’s other hand.

‘Adrian Foley embezzled funds from St Mark’s, from day one, apparently. He was sentenced to four years for fraud, theft.’

‘Oh, that’s why he’d been in prison?’ I stared. ‘He’d been fiddling the school finances; hiving off money? And you knew this, Mum?’

‘It was in all the papers. About fifteen years ago. The Sunday tabloids went to town on him.’

‘Did Jayden know?’

‘Yes, of course. I made him promise not to tell you girls.’

‘But why not?’

‘It was nothing to do with you and I didn’t want reminding of him. He was in my past. I began to realise – probably didn’t realise until after I’d left – that she hated me. Not because of anything I’d done, I don’t think. It was because she was jealous of me; didn’t want Adrian Foley to have any sort of relationship with me. She is exceptionally warped, is Karen Foley. Father would take me off to his office to drum Latin and maths into me and, in revenge for him daring to spend so much of his time on me, she’d sit me down and make me read and learn great tranches of the Bible “for my own good” or, later, as punishment.’

‘Punishment for what?’

‘I wasn’t the easiest child to bring up.’ Mum gave a little smile. ‘When you’re denied love and affection, you’ll do anything to get attention. The thing was, I was pretty bright: I loved school, loved the teachers who were particularly kind to me, especially as I was the head’s daughter. There were some perks to being Adrian Foley’s daughter.’ Mum gave another little laugh, but devoid of all humour. ‘I became his protégée, I suppose – he was determined I’d go to Oxbridge like he had.’

‘Bloody hell, Mum,’ Jess breathed. ‘It’s like something out of a Victorian novel. You sure you weren’t locked up in the red room like Jane Eyre?’

‘Oh, the pair of them would certainly send me to my room to “contemplate my misdemeanours” if I didn’t eat everything on my plate; didn’t get full marks in a spelling test; forgot to do?—’

‘Mum,’ I said gently, ‘Karen said you’d been shoplifting.’

‘Yes.’ Mum’s voice was calm, but her face flushed scarlet. ‘Another reason I didn’t want you girls to go hunting to find out things about my background. It’s not something I’m proud of. When Sorrel started misbehaving, I sort of assumed genes would out.’

‘Did you get into trouble with the police then?’

‘No, it was only once.’

‘Mum, loads of kids do a bit of shoplifting,’ I said.

‘Inever did,’ Jess countered.

‘Well, me neither,’ I mused. ‘So just once? Karen Foley made out you were a total tealeaf.’

Mum tutted, shaking her head. ‘She would. I got friendly with a girl down the road when I was fifteen… now, shewaslight-fingered. We were in Boots in Sheffield city centre and they knew her. Security came and sent for the police because they were fed up of her nicking all the Rimmel make-up. I’d taken a lipstick too. They called the Foleys.’

‘Not the most heinous of crimes, Mum,’ Jess said.

‘No, but I was made to feel like a mass murderer. They reminded me of it at every turn. Which, when you think how much Adrian Foley stole…’ She gave another mirthless laugh. ‘So, more importantly, are we any further forward finding out who my birth mother might be?’

‘Oh, gosh, yes.’ I suddenly remembered. ‘Your birth mum was white. Presumably from Surrey. It was your dad who must have been originally of Indian heritage.’

‘Oh, really?’ Mum’s eyes widened. ‘Mother liked me to believe my birth mother was Indian and had been done away with in an honour killing. It was a horrible thing to think about. So, I didn’t. Goodness.’ She was silent for a long time. ‘I really want to find out more now.’

‘Are you OK, Mum?’ I asked. ‘Do you want me to stay with you tonight?’

‘No, no, of course not. Sorrel’s here, and why on earth would you want to be back in the box room when you’ve Fabian waiting for you?’ Mum laughed.

‘Is Sorrel OK?’ I asked, ignoring Mum’s question.

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