Ask laura, p.14
Ask Laura, page 14
‘You don’t have to give her money; she’ll have to get a job and take responsibility for herself!’
‘But what if she turns to petty crime to feed herself? As you’re always pointing out, we don’t know anything about Brad. He could get her into all sorts of trouble.’ I didn’t want to think about such things, much less plant the idea in Paul’s mind.
‘So, you’d give her the green light to live with someone totally unsuitable and condone it by giving her money? What kind of example will it give to the boys? You must be out of your mind, Laura!’
‘I’m trying to find some middle ground here. As Steve said, we need to keep the lines of communication open, can’t you understand?’
‘Oh right, so now Steve knows what’s best for my daughter, does he? It’s probably him sniffing around which made Lucy leave home in the first place!’ His anger was palpable.
‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Steve’s not “sniffing around”, as you put it. He’s been helpful, that’s all.’ I should have known better than to mention Steve, but it just kind of popped out, and he does talk more sense than Paul was doing at the moment.
‘Look.’ I didn’t want to prolong the conversation; we were getting nowhere. ‘I’m going to give Lucy money for her birthday. You can do what you want, as you keep reminding me, she’s your daughter too.’ The call ended and left me feeling worse than ever. The boys had gone to bed, and once again, a dark feeling of loneliness engulfed me. The rain still lashed down. I shivered, then opened the curtains and sat staring out into the inky black night. When would we be able to get back to normal, whatever normal was? My whole life seemed to be on hold, and I felt utterly powerless to do anything about it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tuesday didn’t prove to be any better than Monday. I risked sending another text to Lucy asking for the okay to call around on Wednesday and hinting how much I’d love to see how the decorating was getting on. The reply was brief.
Too messy for visitors. I’ll come for tea tomorrow to see you and the boys.
I should have expected another rebuff, but at least she was coming home for tea. It had only been a few days, but could she be missing us? However, a nagging little voice inside my head was telling me it was only the money she wanted. My reply said it would be lovely to see her and Brad would be very welcome too. I also included the fact that her grandparents were going on a three-week holiday and had left a parcel with me before they left. A carrot-on-a-stick approach could only strengthen the case for seeing her on her birthday. Lucy didn’t reply. It was during times like these I missed having someone to talk to. Janet and Bob were away, I’d miss them, and my mother was no longer there for me. Yet I had to move on, to keep all the plates spinning in the air, yet it was so hard at times.
* * *
Dear Laura,
I’m thirty years old and married with two children. My mother died suddenly as the result of an accident two months ago. We were always close, and I feel bereft without her. She called to see us at least twice a week, and we spoke daily on the phone. I’ve been so depressed since she died, but my husband keeps telling me to pull myself together. He says it’s the natural order of things for our parents to die and I should get over it, but Mum was only sixty-one! He isn’t close to his parents, so he doesn’t understand how I feel. Is he right, Laura? Should I be over it by now?
June
* * *
Dear June,
Two months is hardly any time at all, and as you and your mum were so close, I don’t find this in any way strange. We never really ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one, as your husband seems to think. The pain will always be there but will become manageable in time. Your mum was very young, and although it is the natural order of things for our parents to die first, this was an accident, a huge shock and her life ended far too soon. It will take more than a couple of months to come to terms with your loss.
Try to explain to your husband exactly how you feel. If, as you say, he is not close to his parents, he will find it difficult to understand the enormity of your grief. Perhaps you could show him this letter if you find verbalising your feelings hard to do.
I would also suggest you seek professional help, a bereavement counsellor, perhaps? Your GP should be able to refer you to someone locally.
Whatever you decide to do, don’t be hard on yourself. We all process things at our own pace, and you should not feel pressurised to ‘be over’ your mother’s death. I think it is wonderful how you were so close, and you’ll always have happy memories to remember her by.
Laura
* * *
I would give anything for my mother to be here with me today, not the mother whose funeral we’ve just attended but my real mum, as she was before Alzheimer’s stole her away from me. June’s letter was very typical of many which ‘Ask Laura’ receives. Sadly her problem wasn’t only the loss of her mum but the expectations of her husband. There isn’t a magic formula for solving the problems which fall across our path in life. We are all individuals, and as such, what works for one, might not for another.
Paul and I are a case in point here. We both want to win our daughter back, but he feels being firm and pulling rank will win the day. I’m more inclined to the softly, softly approach. We could so easily lose Lucy, and I’d rather win her back with love and kindness than playing the role of strict parent. It’s vital we keep communicating, even if it is only through short, impersonal text messages. It’s the way of young people today, and I’m happy to try anything which might win through and bring my child back to me. So, who is right and who is wrong? Perhaps the answer is neither. It may be a two-pronged campaign will win the day. Paul with his discipline and me with my coaxing, who knows?
My reply to June told her not to be hard on herself, but if I’m honest, I’m guilty of the very same thing at the moment. As I lie awake at night, my mind aches with the effort of going back in time to find out where I went wrong. Dredging up old memories, good and bad, have brought me nothing but a headache, coupled with complete and utter exhaustion. It was true Paul and I married hastily, and the unplanned pregnancy was a shock rather than a surprise, but there was no doubting the happiness Lucy brought to us when she came into the world! We couldn’t have loved her more, and we both spent hours simply watching her, asleep or awake. She was our little miracle, and our love for her was all-encompassing.
The joy Lucy brought united us, and although we were both young and inexperienced, we were a happy family unit. With very few possessions, we had each other and our baby daughter and wished for nothing more. We rented a flat close to my parents’ home in those early days, which was small, but the rent was reasonable, and Paul worked long hours to provide for us.
When Lucy was three, we decided I should seek a job to help make ends meet. I was excited at the prospect, and Lucy loved to be among other children at toddler groups and other social activities, so we knew she would enjoy nursery. I began to research my options. My interests lay in writing, and my degree in psychology could potentially open up all sorts of exciting opportunities. But then I fell pregnant again. You would think, once bitten – but no, another unplanned pregnancy came along to change the course of our lives once again. When we discovered it was twins, there was no chance of embarking on a career. Childcare for one was expensive – for three, it was impossible. However, the joy Sam and Jake brought to us was no less than we experienced with Lucy. I only occasionally thought about all my old friends from university who were living the dream of following their chosen careers. Paul and I never talked about such things, ‘what might have been’ was, and remains, taboo.
The burden on Paul increased with the addition of another two mouths to feed, but then out of the blue, his maiden aunt died, leaving her house and estate to him. It was wonderful – not that the poor woman had died, but the unexpected gift of a house – a family-sized house! We were ecstatic, and the future became less of a worry. I loved this house from the moment we saw it, and over the years, we improved it as and when we could afford to. Perhaps it is now in need of improving the improvements, but in my current situation, it remains impossible.
I hoped a foray into the past would answer my present predicament with Lucy, but sadly the reminiscing proved to be of no help whatsoever. If anything, it made me maudlin. My memories were of being almost permanently exhausted after the boys were born, and perhaps Lucy was overlooked for a while. Being a placid, easy-going child, I relied on her to be good, which she was, and she learned to occupy herself for hours while my attention was given to the twins. Was this where I went wrong? Could Lucy have felt pushed out? I didn’t pick up on it at the time, but with hindsight, it now seems possible, even likely. Children are so amazingly resilient, and my little girl seemed to be happy and delighted with her new brothers, or was my imagination a convenient peg on which to hang my guilt?
In my mind, I attempted to build a timeline, dredging up old memories, some of which were incredibly happy and some almost too painful to remember. Lucy was five when the twins were born and would probably (although unintentionally) have received very little attention from her father or me. It was exhausting looking after the boys. When one settled, the other began demanding attention, and my memories of Lucy from then onwards are of her standing on the sidelines, watching and waiting – but waiting for what? Perhaps if she’d been a more outgoing child, she would have demanded my attention, but she wasn’t like that. Lucy was quiet, a little girl who appeared to be self-sufficient, and we assumed she was happy to amuse herself. At the time, I was so grateful for that quality, but had I in some way neglected her? Were our present problems rooted in the past and caused by my being remiss in the care of Lucy?
Looking back, I can see now how so much happened in Lucy’s formative years. Her early memories must be of being pushed aside for her two demanding brothers, and then less than a couple of years after they came along, her father left us. We tried to be civilised and adult about it, but looking back, it was another major upheaval in Lucy’s life. In trying to pinpoint something from the past which might explain my daughter’s irrational behaviour in the present, I can see so many negative experiences for such a young child to understand. In retrospect, I don’t think we handled it well, and it’s incredible Lucy hasn’t turned to a life of crime, or worse!
Tomorrow will be Lucy’s seventeenth birthday. I want to spend time with her, to spoil her, but am I too late? Perhaps we should have paid more attention to her in years gone by, years which we can never live again. We only have today and the future to live, a future which quite honestly, totally, utterly scares me!
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lucy came for tea, alone. This morning, I’d sent another text which simply said, ‘Happy birthday’ with lots of smiley faces and kisses. Not receiving a response prompted a few restless hours whilst I wondered if she would turn up as she’d said.
Sam and Jake were beginning to ask awkward questions about their sister now, and it was difficult to fudge the issue any longer. I didn’t want them to know, however, that she was living with her boyfriend. I hoped today Lucy would see what she was missing and decide to come home. I’d baked a cake and prepared her favourite meal, lasagne. She hadn’t given a time for when she would arrive, so I assumed it would be the usual time we ate, around 5.30. I was right; she didn’t come a moment earlier, which left me in no doubt that very little had changed between us.
The three of us had gifts which she opened without enthusiasm and thanked us briefly without much comment. Even the earrings from Janet and Bob didn’t raise much of a smile. The boys exchanged a look which I couldn’t quite read, but they must have been wondering what was going on. Lucy certainly hadn’t made an effort with her appearance and wore an old black sweater, probably one of Brad’s, which was two sizes too big, and her hands were hidden beneath the sleeves which were pulled down like mittens.
Our meal was eaten in an unnaturally quiet atmosphere, even though I tried my best to get Lucy to talk. The boys too asked questions about the ‘friend’ she was living with, but her answer was to tell them to mind their own business.
My gift had been a token box of chocolates, her favourites, and after we’d eaten, I gave her a cheque for a hundred pounds. The amount was more than I would usually give and a look of surprise crossed Lucy’s face when she saw it. But her thank you was brief, and she waited only as long as she could without being rude and left, refusing my offer of a lift back.
‘She’s weird!’ Sam said after Lucy left.
‘Yeah,’ Jake agreed. I remained silent, unable to defend her actions and disappointed the evening hadn’t been more of a success. At least I now knew my daughter had some money but I was convinced it wouldn’t last long. The amount would barely cover a couple of week’s grocery shopping, and I only hoped Lucy wouldn’t waste it.
After the twins had gone up to bed, a heavy feeling of loneliness descended once again. Paul hadn’t been in touch since Monday, and Lucy didn’t say whether she’d seen or heard from him either. Channel-hopping on the television for a while failed to find anything to capture my interest, so I decided on an early night with my book, although it was only 9.30. But the doorbell rang before I even reached the stairs. I couldn’t imagine who it would be and froze for a few moments, trying to decide whether or not to answer it. It rang again, more urgently as if someone was keeping their finger on the bell. Afraid it might wake the boys, I moved towards the door, fearful of what such a late call might herald. Keeping the chain on, I opened the door a few inches, and the sight which greeted me made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. There on my doorstep on such a cold, drizzly night was Holly!
Fumbling with the chain, I opened the door wide, and as she stepped inside, she opened her arms and I all but fell into them, sobbing like a baby. Being enfolded in one of Holly’s hugs is like being wrapped in a warm, comforting duvet, and I remained there for several moments until able to speak coherently again.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Visiting, of course, but if it’s not convenient...’ Holly turned back towards the door, but I dragged her by the arm into the warmth of the lounge. It was only in the brightness of the room I took in her appearance. My friend was wrapped up in a brightly coloured, long patchwork coat, teamed with fluorescent-green trainers.
‘What on earth are you wearing? It looks like a dressing gown!’ I laughed.
‘That’s because it is a dressing gown, silly.’ She untied the belt to reveal black-and-white-striped pyjamas.
‘My goodness, you haven’t driven all the way from Carlisle like that, have you?’ Nothing like asking the obvious, is there?
‘Of course. I only needed to stop once at a service station for a pee and a cup of coffee. It seemed stupid wearing good clothes to travel in when it would be almost bedtime when I arrived.’ My friend stood in front of me and looked me over, holding my shoulders as my mother used to when I was a child.
‘Laura Green, you look bloody awful!’
I could only nod in agreement; I’d accidentally caught sight of my reflection in the mirror earlier in the evening, and my friend spoke the very same words which had gone through my mind. Naturally, the tears hadn’t helped to improve my looks either.
‘Is the kettle on? And where are those two adorable little rascals?’ Holly made for the kitchen.
‘The boys are asleep, it’s school tomorrow, and we can soon get the kettle on, although I’d better stick to decaf.’
‘Forget the decaf – it’s going to be a late night. I want to know everything that’s happened of late. I can’t bear you having all this excitement in life and me being left in the dark!’
‘Excitement isn’t quite the way I’d describe recent events. You’re lucky I opened the door. I live in perpetual fear of what might happen next.’ As the words came out of my mouth, I realised how true they were. What else could possibly go wrong in my life? We brewed coffee and settled down in the lounge where Holly insisted I tell her everything again, even what I’d already shared via Skype.
I began with the short shorts, which seemed so long ago now and really had nothing to do with anything else. But it was the reason why Lucy wasn’t speaking to me, although even I knew the real reason was something which lay much deeper inside my daughter’s mind, something which even she probably didn’t understand. As I tried to explain it all to Holly, she waved her hand in dismissal.
‘Forget the psychobabble, Laura – it’s lost on me. Just tell me the facts.’ So I did, moving on to relate how I found the birth control pills in Lucy’s room and then describing how Paul and I hadn’t been able to get through to our daughter and disagreed on how to handle the situation. I told her about Richard and watched Holly’s face contort as I described his ugly attempts at seducing me. Next were those abhorrent letters. It was easy to be honest with Holly, she didn’t need protection from the horror and fear the letters had brought into my life, and it was a relief to describe precisely how badly they had affected me. She asked several questions, and I told her about my visit to London and the magazine’s suspension of ‘Ask Laura’, and their insistence the police should be involved.
Holly interrupted at that point to ask about Steve and wouldn’t be persuaded he was simply a good policeman, going the extra mile. (Even as I insisted this was all there was to our relationship, I was hoping it meant more to Steve, as it did to me.) My mother’s death was the next thing to be laid before my friend for her scrutiny, and finally, I described the abject horror of finding Lucy’s letter. An awful cold feeling clutched me again, and as I brought Holly up to date on the situation with Lucy as from today, I realised having my daughter living with Brad was preferable to not having found her.
