I push the thought out of my mind. After a quick Google search, I discover that Hardy and Co have an office about a fifteen-minute drive away. I put the address into the satnav and start the car before I have a chance to hesitate.
A thrum of rebellion courses pleasantly through me. I know all about the clichéd stubbornness of older patients suffering from a cognitive decline. I also know that young-onset dementia can make people more impulsive. But right now I don’t care about those aspects of my disease. A list of symptoms written on a piece of paper do not equal the reality of life. My stubbornness to remain independent can be a strength, not a weakness. My new impulsivity is taking me to places I’ve been too scared to visit before.
In other words, I am living.
It takes me twenty minutes to find the estate agents. It would have been quicker if I hadn’t taken one wrong turn and almost gone the wrong way down a one-way street. Though I’m not sure I can blame that one on the dementia. Then I park the car and sit for a moment, composing myself.
I flip down the mirror on the sun visor. “Get a grip, Mathis.” Then I sigh, grab my bag and head into the office.
A polished young woman with blonde hair looks up from her desk as I walk in. “Hi. Let me know if I can help?—”
“Actually, I’m not here about a property,” I say, stepping over to her desk. “I’m trying to track someone down.” Considering the best way to approach this, I reach into my bag and grab the envelope. “Um, this is a long shot and probably really weird, but I need to find Dina Lacey. She’s a landlord who owns a house on Emerald Drive and I know you handle the business side.” I hold out the details from the adoption agency with Rachel’s address on it.
“I’m confused,” the woman says. “What am I looking at?”
It all comes tumbling out of my mouth. My adoption. The fact that Dina could be related to my birth mother. Even the dementia diagnosis.
The young woman stares at me open-mouthed. “I… Okay, let me make a call.”
I nod, thinking she’s probably going to call the police, but a few moments later she beckons me over.
“I have Dina on the phone if you’d like to speak to her?” She holds the receiver out like it’s no big deal. Like this phone call isn’t about to change my life forever.
CHAPTER13
FAYE
The estate agent rises from her seat and gestures for me to take the phone. I sink into the soft chair and try to swallow away my dry throat.
“Is this Dina Lacey?” I ask.
“Yes. Can I help you?” There’s a hint of uncertainty in her voice which doesn’t surprise me. “Are you a tenant?”
“No,” I say. “Sorry, this is going to sound very strange. Are you related to Rachel Lacey?”
“Yes. She’s my mother. What is this about?”
My first thought is that Dina uses the present tense. That’s a good sign.
I let out a long, slow breath. “Well… I don’t know how to say this, but I may be her daughter too.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line.
“My name’s Faye and I was adopted,” I explain. “Your mother reached out to the adoption agency years ago to say she wanted to meet me. But I only found out her name and address today which is what led me to the house on Emerald Drive. Your tenant gave me your name and?—”
“My mother only had one child,” she says. “I think this is a mistake.”
“I… I don’t think it is. Could we meet somewhere? A coffee shop maybe?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Have you got any proof of all this?”
“No,” I admit. “But I have brought the letter my mum got from the adoption agency. Without a DNA test or whatever, it isn’t definitive proof. But I would be willing to do that if your mum is. If Rachel is. Is she… is she still alive?”
“Yes,” Dina says. “She is but she’s… it’s complicated. Okay… Look, you don’t sound too crazy, and Mum did have her issues when she was young. I guess it’s plausible that she could have…” She trails off as though she can’t bring herself to say the words. “There’s a café called Marmaduke’s around the corner from the estate agents. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”
* * *
It’sthirty minutes before Dina walks into the coffee shop. By that time, I’m jittery from sipping my second cappuccino of the day and the anxiety of watching every woman enter through the door. But as soon as Dina walks in, I know it’s her. Immediately. She stops a few feet inside the shop and we stare at each other.
