The Secret Mother by Victoria Delderfield Page A

English was flawed. How could either of them invent themselves into languages they didn’t fully understand?
    It wasn’t until later, when her dad came home, that Jen realised what she’d done. The lunar calendar was scattered in shreds across the floor, there was a burnt smell emanating from the Aga. Her dad opened it to find the cindery remains of the lucky dragon fan.
    He didn’t shout, only held her. “It’s all right, love, it doesn’t matter now. The inspector’s here with news.”
    The kitchen felt foreign, invaded by the inspector in his fluorescent jacket and stab vest.
    “We’ve found what we believe to be the car. It was a 4x4,” he said. “We’re taking it in for forensics. We’ve also got CCTV from the golf club. We’re working on a witness appeal for the media.”
    “What can we do, Inspector?” Iain said.
    “I need you to confirm May’s details. Tell me, if you would, everything you know about her: date of birth, residence, any friends in Manchester, work colleagues, anyone who might hold a grudge.”
    Her mum leant against the doorframe, her face pale and vacant. “May Guo,” she said. “That’s all we know.”
    The inspector’s pen hovered over his notebook. “Excuse me, Mrs Milne, but I understood your friendship extended over several years? That’s what you said, in your statement at the hospital.”
    “Yes. She visited us every week for six years.”
    “And you only know her name? I find that hard to believe, Mrs Milne.”
    Jen wished the floor would open up and the inspector would disappear. His shirt was pristine, she wondered who ironed it, what he looked like when he undressed at night, whether his wife made him happy? She wondered if he had kids and whether they were clever … whether they were his own flesh and blood and not someone else’s cast-offs? She wished he’d leave, go home to his wife and kids. To a family more perfect than hers.
    “We’ll be searching May’s residence on Burton Road for more information. We’ve been unable to trace any family members, seems she was something of a mystery.”
    “You mean Yifan doesn’t know?” Jen said. “You haven’t called him?”
    “Impossible I’m afraid, there’s no number – we’re not even sure of his surname. I understand you have the keys to her bedsit, Mrs Milne?”
    Nancy didn’t respond.
    “Nancy.” Her dad placed a hand on her knee. “Inspector Meadows needs to see May’s place.”
    “I’m sorry. It’s such a terrible mess.”
    “Where are May’s keys?” Iain said, more firmly.
    Jen felt like shaking her mum, telling her to snap out of it.
    “I never expected her home to look so grubby. I imagined her to live in a nice semi on a leafy street. I even pictured her kitchen to be like ours, because she cooked such extravagant food for us. Her cooker was like your mother’s old Belling. Why did she lie to me, Iain?”
    The inspector raised an eyebrow.
    “A small misunderstanding, Inspector,” said Iain.
    “No, it wasn’t,” Jen interrupted. “She told us the biggest lie of all time. My teacher conned us into believing we were her friends, when all along she despised us.”
    The inspector stopped writing and combed a hand through his curly hair. “Mr Milne?”
    “Inspector, our daughters were adopted from China. It appears this woman – May Guo – was their mother. We just didn’t know it until after her accident. My wife found several photographs of our daughters in her wardrobe. Today Ricki discovered a birthday gift from May – addressed to
my dear daughter.
”
    The inspector stroked his neck, unable to suppress a tic. “I see.”
    Nancy handed him the keys to May’s bedsit.
    “So no telephone numbers, no names, no addresses, no family in China. We’ll put a call into the Home Office.”
    “Are you saying …?”
    “I’m not saying anything Mr Milne until we have more facts. We may have to consider repatriation, but first things first. We’ll get this witness appeal out.