I picked up the phone. Angela didn’t work at weekends so I thought I wouldn’t be disturbing her.
‘Angela? My Aunt Christine is here. She told me that my real mother was kidnapped –’
‘Fuck.’
‘What?’
‘I wanted to be with you when you opened the last letter from your dad. It explains everything … well, most things. May I speak to Christine?’
Aunt Christine took the phone out to the hall. I couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying but I could hear her voice getting high-pitched. And then I heard her hang up the phone. When she returned to the kitchen table, her eyes were wet with tears.
‘Sally, I’m afraid I’ve made a mess of this. Angela is on her way. Let’s talk about other things until she gets here.’
‘Do you think she loved me? My real mother.’
She picked up a sandwich. ‘Oh, I think she loved you with all her heart.’
‘How do you know?’
‘These sandwiches are delicious. Let’s wait for Angela, will we? Shall I make more sandwiches for her?’
‘I’ll make them. It’s lucky that Toby doesn’t eat, otherwise we’d run out of bread.’
‘What age are you now, Sally?’
‘Forty-three. What age are you?’
‘Sixty-seven.’
‘Did my real mum get married?’
‘No … let’s wait for Angela.’
‘Okay. Do you want to hold Toby?’
She hadn’t seen him properly and I wanted to show him off.
‘Goodness, he is a little battered, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, he’s getting in the bath with me tonight.’
‘Oh, that might not be a good idea, to immerse him. It could destroy him. He’s old. Shall we try to give him a scrub now? A gentle one, while we wait for Angela?’
Aunt Christine filled the washing-up basin with sudsy water and used a nail brush with light strokes while I held out Toby’s arms and legs. The water swirled with brown foam.
‘I wonder where he’s been?’ she said.
‘I don’t know. He came in the post yesterday with that note, signed “S”, but I knew at once that he was mine, and that his name was Toby. But I don’t know where I got him. Maybe Mum gave him to me, but I don’t remember, and my memory is normally excellent.’
‘“S”?’ she said, and I moved over to find the note again.
‘Do you know who “S” is?’
Aunt Christine almost dropped Toby into the water, and I caught him just in time.
‘Oh God, we shouldn’t have touched him, or washed him!’
‘Why? He was dirty. He needed it.’ I took over the gentle washing now, rubbing his little face and his soft brown snout with a J-Cloth. Aunt Christine began to pace the room, wringing her hands together.
