Gran's House
by Kit
Chapter 2
A couple of days after the revelation about Gran's will, I returned to university and was very happy to see Mai Li, my girlfriend. Although we'd spoken on the phone after she'd returned from Singapore, I'd not been able to talk with her over the holidays. She didn't want me to contact her while she was away because she said it would get her in trouble with her parents, who apparently had very traditional Chinese values.
She and I had first met at a student party in the first few days of our first year at university. The fact that our paths crossed at all was a minor miracle because it was a large university, we lived on opposite sides of the campus, and there was no overlap in our studies. She was studying politics and economics, and I was studying computer sciences, with the subjects being taught in completely different parts of the campus.
At the party, we were drawn together by some sort of 'animal magnetism', or maybe it was just old-fashioned lust. Within a few days, we'd become a couple, and we spent as much time together as possible. It wasn't just the sex, but in many ways we just seemed to fit emotionally and mentally together. As an added bonus, she was a superb cook, and I rapidly fell in love with Chinese cuisine.
Of course, there were some downsides to our relationship, the main one being that she was in Singapore and out of touch for all of the Christmas holidays and most of the summer vacation. Still, to me that was not too great a price to pay for the pleasure of being with her for the rest of the year. One Easter, I took her home to meet Gran, and they got on very well, though Gran made it clear that Mai Li and I must use separate bedrooms.
At the time, I thought that being apart so much was the main downside to our relationship, but that's probably because I'd set aside in my mind the conversation we'd had just a couple of weeks after we met. We were lying in bed one Sunday morning in her large and almost luxurious apartment when that brief conversation took place.
"I really, really like you a lot," I said as I cuddled up to her.
"I really like you a lot, too," she said and kissed my forehead. With a very serious expression, she looked into my eyes and added, "But don't get too attached. After graduation, I'll be expected to go home and get engaged to someone my family approves of."
At the age of eighteen, in the first few weeks of the first year at university, graduation felt like something in the far future. I felt that anything could happen before then. Maybe her situation would change. Maybe our relationship would end anyway. So I tucked the conversation away in a corner of my mind and concentrated on enjoying the time I had with her.
Despite the fact that I might now be considered to be wealthy, I decided to continue with my chosen career in computer sciences, and I was thinking about what specialist area of study might most interest me. During the Easter vacation after Gran's death, Mai Li went home with me, and we shared a bedroom. However, I did feel a little guilty when I thought about what Gran's opinion would have been about that.
Although legally it was now my house, I would always think of it as Gran's House. It wasn't just a building; it was my home and a place where I always felt comfortable and safe. More recently, I'd discovered that it had been my family's home since it was first built. Happy memories of Gran and Grandad were everywhere. I didn't believe in ghosts, but if there had been any spirits in the house, they would be kind, welcoming, and totally beneficent.
At my request, Aunt Anne had cleared out Gran's bedroom, including the bed. I'd requested that she keep whatever she wanted for herself and give everything else to charity. Although the master bedroom had a large en suite bathroom as well as a walk-in closet, I decided to stay in my old room. That had been my own personal space ever since I could remember, and it was there that I felt most comfortable.
The following Christmas, Mai Li went home as usual, and as the anniversary of Gran's death approached, my godparents insisted that I spend most of the holiday period with them. So, apart from occasional trips to Gran's house, I spent most of my time at their home. The atmosphere was a little more subdued than previous holidays because we all missed Gran, but overall we enjoyed our time together.
Even before Gran's death, they'd begun treating me as an adult, but since then, they'd also started treating me as an equal. However, they often behaved as if they were still responsible for my wellbeing. When it came time to go back to university, I was a little sad to say goodbye but also looking forward to continuing my last year at university. In addition, after more than three weeks of celibacy, I was eagerly looking forward to seeing Mai Li again.
As I opened the door to leave their house, Aunt Anne gave me a hug, and Uncle Geoffrey reached out to squeeze my shoulder.
"Thanks for taking care of me for the holidays," I said. "I hope you know how much I really appreciate it."
"Of course we know that, Paul," Aunt Anne said, "and I hope you know how much we've enjoyed you staying here."
"And Paul," Uncle Geoffrey added, "now you're pretty much an adult, you don't need to call us 'Aunt' and 'Uncle'. Just Anne and Geoffrey will be fine."
His wife nodded her agreement, and it took only a couple of seconds for me to think about that and to respond.
"If it's okay with you, I'd like to carry on with calling you Aunt and Uncle. That's what you've always been to me, and it would feel strange to change now. Also, calling you Aunt and Uncle shows how I feel that you're my family."
Tears started to appear in her eyes, and Uncle Geoffrey gave me a brisk nod. At that point I thought it best to make a retreat and get into my car.
By that time, I'd decided what to do about the three cars that I'd owned after Gran died. For sentimental reasons and because my grandad had really loved it, I'd decided to keep the S-Class Mercedes. After he died, Gran had used it for going to church and for special occasions. Now I used it when I was home, and I went on long drives with it as often as I could. The rest of the time, it resided in the double garage.
I'd sold Gran's Avensis and the Yaris they'd bought me for my eighteenth birthday, and I bought a Golf that was just two years old and in excellent condition. So, despite Uncle Geoffrey's dire warnings about the cost of insurance and the cost of maintaining the Merc, I was the proud owner of two cars.
At the end of the Christmas holidays I returned to university on the day before Mai Li was due to return from Singapore. When she'd been planning her first trip home after we'd met, I'd offered to take her to the airport and pick her up on her return. However, she'd not only declined my offer but also actively discouraged me from doing so. Therefore, I didn't try to contact her and waited until she got in touch to say she'd arrived back.
There was no communication from her on the day of her expected return. Presuming that there had been some delay in her journey, I sent her a discreet text, simply asking her to let me know when she was back in her apartment. The following day, she phoned and asked me to meet her that afternoon in our favourite student bar. As soon as I agreed, she hung up, and that abrupt ending to the call, combined with her cool tone, alerted me to the fact that something was wrong.
The bar was relatively quiet, and I began to feel a little foolish sitting alone in the alcove waiting for her to arrive. Eventually, almost half an hour later than expected, she entered the bar, and after a brief look around, came over to me. Instead of the usual happy smile, she greeted me with a slight frown and a determined expression.
"Hi, Paul," she said in a slightly trembling voice as she sat down opposite me.
"Hi," I replied, realising that something was definitely very wrong. "Do you want your usual?"
"No, thanks," she said quickly. "I can't stay long. I just have something to tell you... and, well, I thought it best to do it in person."
"Oh, erm, okay."
She took a deep breath and looked down at the table, and it felt like ages before she spoke.
"I got engaged to be married. Now I can't be with you anymore." She sighed deeply before continuing, "Remember, I did warn you that this was likely to happen and that we shouldn't get too attached."
"Yes, b-but," I stuttered, "I thought that would be after you graduated and..."
"So did I, but the families wanted to make a quick commitment. It's a good match. He's a nice guy, just a couple of years older than me, and I've known him a long time."
It seemed as if she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.
"What about, well, love?"
"He will be easy to love."
Nothing she said seemed to make any sense to me. My whole life seemed to be falling apart, and I couldn't even think of what to say next.
"So you see," she continued firmly, "our relationship must end now."
"Can't we stay friends, just friends?" I asked pathetically.
"We both know that would be too difficult. It has to be a clean break," she said with great determination. Then she stood up and added, "Please don't contact me again."
After she'd gone, I sat there for a few minutes, completely stunned. Then, not wishing to be seen crying in public, I left the bar, went back to my room, and curled up on my bed.
By the time that the Easter holidays arrived, the pain caused by the sudden end of my relationship had faded to an occasional dull ache that mostly only occurred when I dared to prod at certain memories. The fact that it was a very busy time in my last year of university and that f inal exams would be in just a few weeks helped to distract me from thoughts of Mai Li.
When I returned to spend the vacation at Gran's house, I felt comforted by the fact that I was home again. As it happened, Mrs Thompson was there, so I didn't need to disable the alarm system when I went inside. She'd just finished her Friday morning cleaning session and was in the hallway putting on her coat.
My grandparents had been among her clients ever since Gran returned to full-time work when I was twelve, so I knew her well. When my grandparents were both alive and working and I was just a boy, she'd worked in the house on three mornings per week. Now, with the house empty while I was at university, she came in just on Friday mornings.
"Hi, Mrs T," I greeted her with a grin.
"Hi, Paul," she said and smiled. "It's good to have you home. There isn't much for me to do when the house is empty."
"I'm sure that dust still appears even when no one's here," I quipped. "And it's nice to know that there's someone coming around to check up on the place."
"Anne and Geoffrey stop by every week as well," she pointed out. "Your Aunt Anne said you'd be home today and asked me to make sure there were some basic groceries in the house."
"Thanks. I know that isn't part of your job, but it's much appreciated."
"Making sure you were okay has always been part of my job, Paul, and I've always enjoyed it," she said with a self-satisfied smile. "See you next week."
She patted my arm affectionately as she passed me and left the house. I followed her back outside and brought my bags in from the car. Then I phoned Aunt Anne.
"Hi, sweetie! Is everything okay?" she asked.
Ever since I'd told her about Mai Li breaking up with me, Aunt Anne had been even more solicitous than usual.
"Everything's fine. Just letting you know that I'm home, and thanks for the groceries."
"Don't be silly. That's the least I could do for my favourite godson. I don't want him starving in his own home," she said brightly. "Speaking of starving, I insist that you come over for dinner tonight. Geoffrey will be heartbroken if you don't."
"Uncle Geoffrey? Heartbroken? He's made of sterner stuff than that!" I joked. "But yes, I'd love to come to see you, and dinner will be an added bonus."
"Lovely! Come over about six thirty, and we'll have time for cocktails. Since I last saw you, I've developed a taste for Negronis. Have you tried them?"
"No. The very name sounds a bit too exotic for my tastes."
"Pish! You'll hurt my feelings if you don't at least try one!"
After having a couple of sandwiches for lunch, I unpacked my bags and began to settle in. Although it was the Easter holidays, I had a lot of work to do. There was a project that I had to finish off, and I needed to study for the final exams that would take place in just a few weeks' time. While I was in my room unpacking some clothes, I was surprised to hear the phone ringing.
The reason that I was so surprised is that it wasn't my phone but the old landline phone in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. As far as I could remember, the number of times that I'd ever heard that phone ringing could be counted on the fingers of one hand. After I got my first mobile phone when I was eleven years old, everyone in the house had their own phone. However, Gran had insisted on keeping the old landline.
I wondered who would be calling that unlisted number, and I decided that it must be someone dialling it by mistake. My first thought was to ignore it, but then curiosity got the better of me. I rushed downstairs, picking up the phone on the eighth or ninth ring. On such an old phone, there was no caller ID.
"Hello?" I said.
"Hello! My name is Rose Lassiter, with Meedford Social Services. I was beginning to think I had the wrong number. I've tried a few times this week, and no one answered." said a woman whose voice had a slight but distinct Northern accent.
"Maybe you do have the wrong number," I said. "Who do you want to speak to?
"Could I speak with Lily Cooper, please?"
"I'm afraid not. What do you want with her ?"
"It's personal and a little confidential. Do you know when she'll be available? Or maybe you could pass on a message for her to call me back?"
"Mrs Cooper died more than a year ago," I said, not trying to hide my suspicion.
The woman was probably taken by surprise by that information because there was a long silence before she spoke again.
"Oh, I'm very sorry to hear that. Do you know if she has any relatives and how to contact them?"
"As far as I know, she has only one living relative, and you're speaking to him."
"Ah. Okay," she said, clearly unsure what to say next. "Erm, do you know a Mary Sterling?"
I remembered that Gran's maiden name had been Sterling. However, she'd had no siblings and, as far as I knew, no living relatives. There had certainly never been any mention of a Mary Sterling. I was about to say that I didn't know such a person, but my curiosity was aroused.
"Why do you think that Mrs Cooper knew Mary Sterling?" I asked.
"Well," again she hesitated before continuing. "Mary gave Mrs Cooper's name with this telephone number as her next of kin."
Suddenly, something occurred to me, and I nearly dismissed it as impossible. "How old is this Mary Sterling person, and why do you want to contact her next of kin?"
"Erm," there was more hesitation before she continued. "If I remember correctly, she was thirty-seven. And I'm calling to let her next of kin know that she died in January. Now, can I ask again who you are?"
"I'm Paul Cooper, Lily Cooper's grandson."
"And do you know Mary Sterling or not?" Ms Lassiter asked irritably, clearly beginning to lose patience.
"Well," I replied blankly, unsure how I should be feeling, "I think she may be my mother."
"Oh," she said, sounding very surprised and maybe even a little shocked. "I'm sorry to have given you such terrible news."
"That's okay," I replied, still unsure why a social worker should want to contact Mary's next of kin. "I suppose you want someone to pay for the funeral?"
"No, it's nothing like that. I'm sorry I didn't contact you sooner, but it took some time to get the next of kin information. And the information wasn't complete."
"Okay, well, thank you for letting me know," I said, intending to end the conversation.
She must have sensed that intention because with great urgency she said, "Please don't hang up yet! There are some things I need to discuss with you. And maybe you'd like to know about your mother's death?"
"I'm sorry, but I don't feel like chatting about it just now. I'll call you back sometime."
"Okay, I understand all this must be a shock for you," she said, clearly disappointed. "Please phone me as soon as you feel up to it."
As soon as she hung up, I realised that I didn't have her phone number, so before I forgot, I jotted down her name, presuming that I would be able to contact her via Meedford Social Services. For the rest of the afternoon, I couldn't concentrate on anything and spent much of the time sitting on the sofa and trying to distract myself by watching TV, or more accurately, by just browsing the channels.
I arrived at my godparents' house a little early, and Uncle Geoffrey had just arrived home. He went to change out of his work clothes, and Aunt Anne and I started on cocktails in the kitchen while she continued making preparations for dinner. The Negroni was okay, but probably not something that I'd choose to have again.
"So what's the matter, Paul?" she asked, holding her drink in her left hand and a wooden spoon in the other. "I can read you like a book, so don't bother saying that everything's fine."
Of course, I intended to tell them about the phone call, but I was hoping to delay it until after dinner. However, I knew that she wouldn't let me get away with putting it off for so long.
"I think it's best if we wait until Uncle Geoffrey joins us," I said.
"Okay," she said, raising an eyebrow.
She began gently stirring one of the pans on the hob. As soon as Uncle Geoffrey came downstairs in his comfortable casual clothes, he announced that he was going to make himself a gin and tonic. That gave me the impression that he shared my low opinion of Negronis. Aunt Anne turned down the heat on a couple of pans.
"Let's go and sit down," she said. "Paul has something serious he wants to tell us."
"I didn't say that!" I protested.
"You didn't need to," she said. "And don't worry, we have a few minutes before we need to serve dinner."
We each sat in our usual armchairs, and as we sipped our drinks, I told them about the phone call. As soon as I finished, Uncle Geoffrey emptied his glass, stood up, and said, "I think we all need a refill."
"Not for me, thanks," I said, my glass still half full.
"I can get you something different if you like," he said, giving me a little wink that his wife couldn't see.
Although I was tempted by the offer, I decided to finish the drink that I had. Aunt Anne handed him her empty glass and looked at me.
"So Mary really is dead. Poor girl," she said. "You must feel terrible getting a phone call like that."
"Not really," I said. "I don't know what to feel. I never knew her, so to me, she was just a sort of 'theoretical' person. And in any case, I 'd always assumed she was dead."
"She wasn't theoretical to us," Aunt Anne said sadly. "She was a lovely little girl who got into trouble and ran away from it."
"And I'm the trouble she was running away from?"
"No, of course not! Obviously I didn't mean it like that," she protested. "She had lots of problems. You were probably just what they call collateral damage."
"Problems more important than her baby?"
"Who knows what she was thinking?" she said. "She was a lovely, kind, clever girl, at least until she turned sixteen. After that, she seemed to become a different person. She argued with everyone, especially your grandad; she started doing badly at school, and she even got suspended a couple of times."
She sighed, and there was a pensive silence, giving me the impression that she was inwardly debating what to say.
"Once your gran came home from work to find Mary drunk and passed out on the sofa," she said eventually. "And judging from the mess and empty glasses, she hadn't been alone in the house. So, as I said, she had lots of troubles. Maybe there were problems with whoever your dad was."
At that point, Uncle Geoffrey gave his wife her refill and tactfully shifted the subject slightly.
"Did the social worker say how Mary died or where she'd been living?" he asked.
"She never said how she died, but I guess that she must have been living in Meedford, at least recently."
"Not far away, then," Aunt Anne said. "I always imagined she'd gone to London or somewhere else hundreds of miles away. If only we'd known."
"There's no point in dwelling on 'what if' or 'if only'," her husband said.
"So when are you going to phone the social worker? Tomorrow?" Aunt Anne asked.
"Tomorrow's a Saturday," I pointed out.
"Don't social workers work on Saturday?" she asked, presumably rhetorically. "Well, will you phone her on Monday?"
"I don't know," I replied.
"Don't you want to find out more about your mother?" she pressed on.
"I'm not sure. Maybe it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. After all, we can't even be sure this Mary Sterling is my mother," I said. Before she could pursue the matter further, I continued, "Can we eat now? I'm starving."
She took my unsubtle hint and dropped the subject, though I knew that the reprieve would be only temporary. Although the meal was a little more subdued than usual, it was still enjoyable, and after a few glasses of wine, I ended up staying overnight.
Over the weekend, I tried to work on my project, which was due immediately after the holidays and would provide a major contribution to my final marks. However, I was distracted, and it was hard to concentrate. I inwardly cursed both the social worker for calling and myself for picking up the phone. Fortunately, I'd completed most of the project before I'd left campus.
By the middle of Monday morning, I'd decided to contact the social worker. I looked up the phone number of Meedford Social Services and called them on my mobile phone. After asking to speak with Rose Lassiter, I was put through to what I presumed was her extension. However, I was greeted by the voice of a young man.
"Hello, Children's Services. How may I help?"
"May I speak to Rose Lassiter, please?"
"I'm afraid she's not available at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?"
My initial feeling was one of relief, and I was about to decline his offer, but deep down I knew that sooner or later the matter would need to be dealt with.
"Yes. Please tell her that Paul Cooper phoned, returning her call from Friday." I gave him my mobile number and added, "Please ask her to contact me on this number instead of the number she used on Friday."
"Yes, sir, I'll do that. Is there anything else?"
"No, thank you," I replied, ending the call.
It was only after I hung up that it occurred to me to wonder why someone from Children's Services should have tried to contact my gran about an obviously adult Mary Sterling. Later, just a few minutes after I'd finished my lunch of ham and tomato sandwiches washed down with a mug of tea, my phone rang. I didn't recognise the number but correctly assumed it was Ms Lassiter.
"Sorry I couldn't take your call this morning. Things were a bit hectic," she said. "To be honest, things are usually quite hectic around here."
"That's okay, " I replied.
Her last few words and her slightly harassed tone had made me realise for the first time that I was talking with a real person and not just some unfeeling functionary doing her job.
"Anyway, I think what needs to be done is to decide if Mary Sterling is your mother," she said in a pleasant but more businesslike tone.
"You must be reading my mind."
"If only I had that skill," she said, sounding quite amused. "But I guessed you had doubts when you didn't appear to react on hearing about Mary's death."
"Even if she was my mother, I never knew her because she disappeared when I was just a little baby. I don't remember her, and, I'd got used to the idea that she must be dead. So I suppose that's why I didn't show much emotion when you spoke to me."
"You said 'disappear'. How old was she? Didn't her parents report it to the police?"
"She was seventeen, and my grandparents reported it, but the police said that as she was over sixteen, she'd left a note, and there were no suspicious circumstances, there was nothing they could do."
"I see," she said. "And do you know your mother's birthday?"
"She would've been thirty-eight this May," I replied after pausing to do some mental calculations. "On the fifth, I think."
"That certainly fits the details we have of Mary Sterling, but I've not been able to track down any records of her earlier than about 16 years ago. Do you have any photos of her?"
"Obviously not recent ones, but I think Gran had an album and a box of stuff somewhere, " I replied, beginning to lose patience. "Oh, and she had blond hair and pale blue eyes."
"Okay, well that, together with the next of kin details, seems pretty conclusive. But I'd still appreciate it if you could send me a photo or two."
"I'll do my best."
"Of course, I understand now why the news of her death may not have upset you so much," she said, after a brief pause, "but did you not even wonder how she died?"
"Yes, I suppose," I replied, unsure whether or not I really did want to know.
"She collapsed at work and lost consciousness. Shortly after arriving in hospital, she died from massive internal bleeding caused by a perforated gastric ulcer, probably related to other signs of chronic alcohol toxicity." She paused for a few seconds to give me time to absorb the information before adding, "Do you have any questions?"
"Well, yes," I said. "Why does a busy social worker such as yourself spend so much time and effort trying to track down the relatives of a dead alcoholic?"
"That's a bit harsh," she replied, apparently shocked both by my words and by my tone. "Anyway, as I'm now reasonably confident that Mary Sterling was your mother, I can tell you that you have at least two living blood relatives."
For a moment I was so stunned that I thought I must have misunderstood her, and I couldn't think of anything to say.
"Mary had two other sons," she continued. "You have two brothers. Well, two half-brothers. Connor will be ten in May, and Liam has just had his seventh birthday. They are currently in a foster home, and I was hoping that they might have relatives somewhere."
"What about their father?" I asked.
"Fathers," she replied. "They have different fathers. We don't know who they are or where they are because Mary didn't put any father's name on the birth certificates."
"Ah," I said. "Me, too."
"What do you mean?"
"She didn't put my father's name on my birth certificate."
"I see," she said, showing no hint of surprise. "Well, now I've told you about your brothers, would you mind if I told them about you?"
"Erm, I suppose that would be only fair."
"Okay, that's great. Now, just to clarify things, from what I've gathered so far, it appears that you lived with your grandparents, who are now dead, and as far as you know, you have no other living relatives. The area code of your landline indicates that you are in an eastern suburb of Linchester, not too far from us here in Meedford. Is that correct?"
"Wow!" I said, genuinely impressed. "You're a good detective."
"You may be surprised to know that detective work is frequently part of my job," she said, clearly amused by my reaction. "For example, after your brothers were taken into care and I was assigned to them, I wanted to see if they had relatives. I spoke with Mary's neighbours, but no one knew of any.
"However, the neighbour who sometimes babysat for them mentioned that a few months earlier Mary had gone into hospital for minor surgery. That's where I found the next of kin contact details that Mary had given."
"That's a lot of work, especially when I know you must be very busy," I commented, admiring her persistence.
"The children needed help," she said as if that should be obvious to anyone. "And don't you think that it's significant that Mary gave her mother's name and phone number?"
"Why significant?" I asked.
"She could have simply said there was no next of kin or given the contact details of a friend or maybe even invented details. Instead, she gave contact information for her mother. Does that not imply that Mary would've wanted her mother to know about her boys?"
"You mean she might want to dump the boys on Gran like she dumped me? Or maybe Mary didn't intend anything at all and just gave the first details that came into her head."
Perhaps taken aback by my outburst, Ms Lassiter seemed eager to change the subject.
"I hope you don't mind me asking, but how old are you, and what do you do for a living?"
"I'll be twenty-one in July, and I'm studying computer sciences at university."
"I must say, you sound very mature for your age."
"I'll take that as a compliment," I said. "Actually, I've been told that many times in the past. I was brought up by grandparents with the help of their friends, and until I started school, the youngest people I socialised with were middle-aged. So maybe some maturity rubbed off on me."
"Possibly, " she agreed. "So you'll be graduating soon?"
"Yes, this summer."
"I've given you a lot to think about, and I've got an appointment in a few minutes, so I'll say goodbye for now and hope we can talk again soon. Please remember to try to send me a photo of Mary."
"Okay. Bye," I replied weakly.
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