‘Remember, baby. it’s just you and me against the world, like it always has been, since we were kids.’
As she signed off, Alfie heard her talking to someone else; she was now out of camera range. He heard another voice in the room—it was a woman’s.
‘I just want to know, that’s all.’
Mann was waiting for his mother to answer. He made her sit whilst they talked. It was all too easy for her to avoid it otherwise. She sat opposite him in the lounge on the white, French furniture, ornate, never meant to be comfortable. It was nothing like they used to have. She had got rid of all of that. Behind her were photos of Mann with his father on the sideboard in silver frames. Molly had moved into the small flat after Deming died and the furniture from the big house had been culled, but still the room seemed overcrowded and the furniture out of keeping in its new surroundings. Then, Mann hadn’t understood why she had to downscale quite so much; now he did. The whole area had an air of ‘seen better times’ about it. As much as Mann kept nagging her, Molly never once spent the money she had sitting in the bank. Now he knew why.
She did not look at her son. He didn’t mind waiting. He was used to waiting for her to say what it was that was bothering her. He knew this was her least favourite scenario, being forced into talking about a subject she’d rather never mention.
Mann sipped his tea and watched her. Her shoulders were narrow and stiff. Her hair was wound in a silver and pewter coil, and secured with an antique tortoiseshell clasp. She was getting thinner in her old age, but still upright as she sat perched on the edge of the chaise longue, as if there was a rod up her back, but the flesh on her arms was thinned and freckled with the sun damage. Her hands were long and graceful but papery thin. Mann put his cup down on the lace doily on one of a set of three mahogany side tables, and he sat back in the narrow, tall-backed armchair. Ginger, the cat, came to sit in front of Molly, waiting for a sign that it was allowed to jump onto her lap, waiting for her to sit back and make space. Molly put her cup down and gave an exaggerated sigh.
‘I don’t see what the point is in unearthing all these things about your father. He was a man like any other. He had his faults and his virtues. Why do we have to do it now?’
Mann looked at her; he could see she was trembling. He felt sorry for her and he spoke gently. ‘Because it affects us now. Because, if they are not dealt with, secrets have a habit of reappearing, don’t they? Nothing stays hidden forever.’
‘It should have done. Why did we have to know about it? What business is it of ours? Your father made a mistake.’ She was getting prickly. Ginger sensed it and backed off. ‘We shouldn’t let it ruin our lives. He has been dead for nineteen years. You spend too much time thinking about things like how he died. Who ordered his death? You waste your energy on things that cannot be answered and, even if they could, it would make no difference, it would not bring him back. You should stop thinking about these things, son, and move on. Put them behind you.’
‘I won’t give up the search for Dad’s killer, Mum, I can’t do that. I live with the image of his death cemented in my brain. But I realise now that I hardly even knew him. Now it turns out that he had secrets that affect us all and they might explain his death. I need to know them. I have a right to know them—everything, good and bad.’
Mann paused for a minute. He knew he was on tricky ground. If he pushed his mother too hard he would never get her to cooperate. She was better at building walls than any construction worker. She had turned her attention out towards the balcony where a bird had come to feed from the bird table. ‘Mum, I know it’s hard for you but it’s too late to undo what’s done. I don’t know about you but I would rather not sit around and wait for that to unfold. I’m not too keen on surprises.’ He saw her shoulders rise and fall and he knew she was trying hard to be calm. ‘There was a time, not so long ago, that you wanted to talk about things. You mentioned that your relationship, your marriage wasn’t so good.’
‘That was before all this came up.’ She snapped back. ‘I don’t see why she had to contact us. The children are nothing to do with us.’ There was no anger in her voice, just exasperation and sadness. Mann could see she was upset. She started fiddling with the hem of her beige Marks and Spencer’s cardigan that he had bought her last Christmas.
‘You had no idea that he had someone else?’
She shook her head.
‘You want to know my secrets? Then I will tell you…I was unlucky in love.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I picked the wrong man.’
She got up and went to watch the bird feeding on the crumbs she had left on the bird table.
‘I was pretty. I was wealthy. I was educated. I had grown up with an idea of marrying well. When I was nineteen I got engaged to someone but he jilted me. He never loved me. He broke my heart. He took my father for a lot of money. There was a lot of shame also because I was pregnant. I lost the child. But it was still a huge disgrace and my parents sent me to Hong Kong to stay with a cousin out here to recover.’ She gave a quiet, cynical laugh. ‘They had no idea how the colonials lived out here or what kind of girl my cousin was. They thought she had a decent job out here; in reality, she hardly worked. She spent most of her time partying. She was racy for that time. She smoked, she drank. She was part of the “in set”. I experienced a new type of people and I was introduced to your father. He seemed so quiet and respectful. We courted. I had known him for two months when he proposed and I accepted. I hardly knew him. I certainly did not know what life I would have here. I did not belong to Eleanor’s party set. I was married to a Chinese. It was not right for either of us, not in those days of snobbery and racism; even in Hong Kong both sides kept their distance. It was an insult to be mixed race. I had no idea that my life would be so lonely. When you were born I was so happy, I didn’t care what anyone thought any more. But, so soon, it came to be time to send you to school and your father insisted you went to England.’ Molly sighed heavily. ‘But a part of me died. I felt as if I’d lost you forever. I wanted to go back with you, to England, but Deming wouldn’t allow it. My place was with my husband. My heart broke to let you go. My life was intolerable without you in it. Oh, he was kind enough to me but I was just a trophy wife to him. I had settled for respect, thinking it would become love but it never did. It must have been the same for him. That’s why he looked for love elsewhere, I suppose.’
‘What about you? Did you ever love anyone else?’
For a moment she turned back and looked fleetingly at him.
‘A friendship, nothing more.’
‘I am sorry, Mum. Really sorry. I can imagine how difficult it must have been. But the past is done with. We have all made decisions that we wish we’d reconsidered at the time, but Mum…Magda—’ Molly tutted with annoyance at the mention of her name. Mann persevered. ‘Magda didn’t want to ask for help, Mum. She did it because she had no choice. She has already lost a son last year in the tsunami.’
Molly turned sharply round to look at him and he could see she was shocked. She lowered her eyes as she listened to what he had to say. ‘She doesn’t want to lose another. And I don’t want to lose another brother.’
‘Half brother,’ she said, a wounded look in her eyes.
He smiled to himself. He could hear that she was relenting. Her voice had lost the panic, now only the sadness remained.
‘Yes, half brother,’ he said, kindly. ‘But unless there are any more likely to come out of the woodwork then this young boy is my only sibling and I want the chance to get to know him. Things