No Forgiveness Shall Come
Have you ever wondered about finding your mother?
The question materialised from nowhere, so unexpectedly that Victoria jolted as if a faint bell had chimed in another room. She was in the kitchen, tenderly steadying a toppling heap of paperwork shed taken home from the officea delicate stack that threatened to scatter with the least provocation. Now, Victorias hands hovered uncertainly above the table, coming to rest as she lifted her gaze to Alex. Her eyes were round, startled; what sort of idea had lodged itself in his head? Why dredge up the past? Why search for the woman who, in a casual gesture, had left her life warped and unfinished?
Absolutely not, replied Victoria, voice tight but level. Why would I want to do that? Its a peculiar idea. Theres no point, none at all.
Alex, sheepish, ran a hand through his hair as if to comb out his own awkwardness, offering a thin, faltering smilethe attempt to make light of his blunder near visible.
Well, he fumbled, grasping for charity, I always hear about people from childrens homes wanting to trace their real parents. I thought if you fancied it, I could help. Id do it gladly, honestly.
Victoria shook her head, her chest constricting as though an invisible hand had cinched her ribs. Taking a silent, steadying breath beneath the prickle of unwelcome emotion, she regarded him coldly.
Thank you, but no, she said, her tone firm and higher than before. I will never look for her! She stopped being my mother a long time ago. I wont ever forgive her!
The words landed with an icy finality, brittle yet absolute. Anything less and she would have to trespass through bitter memory and bare her innermost wounds to her fiancé. She loved himreally, she didbut some hurts belonged in locked rooms, even from those closest to ones heart. She reached for her papers again, feigning focus, busying herself with trivial tidying.
Alexs brow furrowed. Hed clearly not expected Victorias answernot with such severity. For him, the role of mother was almost hallowed: never mind her presence or absence, the fact that a woman could carry life inside her, birth a childthat alone lifted her, in his eyes, nearly to the divine. He clung to the belief that the bond between a mother and her child could not be broken by time or circumstances.
But Victoria had jettisoned those beliefs, cut through them, dispatched them absolutely. For her, the facts were stark. How could one long to meet someone who had shown such thorough-hearted cruelty? Her so-called mum hadnt just sent her to carethe reality was far worse.
Once, as a girl, emboldened by years of gnawing uncertainty, Victoria had summoned herself to ask Mrs Harding, the headmistress at her childrens homea stern but honourable woman held in quiet reverence by all the childrenabout her beginnings.
Why am I here? Victoria asked softly but clearly. Did my mother die? Or was she made to leave me? Was it something serious?
Mrs Harding paused, her hands settling over her paperwork, considering her answer as if it weighed ounces and stones. She sighed deeply and nodded for Victoria to sit.
Clutching the chairs edge, Victoria waited in the dense hush as dread swelled within her. Shed always suspected she was about to learn something that would chisel her sense of self into a different shape.
She lost her rights as a parent and was taken to court, Mrs Harding said, each word carefully set down. Her eyes, steady but grave, betrayed a flicker of uneasethe difficult truth must come out, no matter its weight. Thered be no fables here, no gentle fabrications. Victoria deserved to know it all.
A beat. Then:
You came to us at four and a half. Someone found youa little child walking alone down the street. They reported you, alarmed. Later it became clear: a woman abandoned you on a bench at Kings Cross Station, then leapt onto a fast train and vanished. It was autumn, raw and wet. You had on only a thin mac and wellingtons. You waited alone there for hours until someone found you and took you to hospital. You became dreadfully ill and were there weeks before coming to us.
Victoria turned rigid, hands balled upon her knees. Her face remained inscrutable, but her eyes were dark and stormy. She listened, silent, absorbing every syllablethe words felt sharp and final.
Was she found? What did she sayabout any of it? Victoria breathed, not loosening her fists.
She was found and sentenced, said Mrs Harding, pausing with a wry, defeated smile. Her reason? She claimed she was penniless but had a job lined upand the employer wouldnt allow children on the premises. You, she said, were in the way. So abandoning you there, alone, was simpler, she thought. She could begin again. Alone.
Victorias hands slackened, falling limp to her lap. She stared aheadpast the room, past the worldher thoughts spinning back to a memory she didnt consciously possess: a cold, sodden morning, lost to time.
I see she said at last, monotone, drained. Then she gazed at Mrs Harding and added, Thank you for telling me the truth.
In that instant, resolve crystallised inside her: she would never seek her mother, not ever. A half-imagined curiosityjust to look her in the eye and ask why?abruptly and utterly vanished.
To leave a child on the streeta four-year-old? The mind could not, would not, accept it. Had her birth mother not one glimmer of conscience, not a shade of pity or shame? Anything might have happened on that bench; she could have vanished in a hundred ways.
This wasnt a human act but a beasts! Victoria thought, bitterness spiking behind her ribs. She had tried, honestly tried, to imagine an excuseperhaps desperation, perhaps no other path, perhaps belief that this was for the best. But such flimsy justifications shattered against the pitiless facts. Why not simply sign her away, or put her in the care system directly, or hand her to hospital staff? Why risk fate, leaving a small child alone in Londons chilly dawn?
No explanation fitted, nothing softened the wound, nothing made the betrayal necessary or forgivable. What had been donehad been done with clear-eyed, deliberate intent. Like discarding a worn-out umbrella at the bus stop and never looking back.
With every swirling thought, Victorias conviction grew impenetrable. No, she would not search for the woman. No, she would not ask. No, she would not try to understand. Nothing could unmake what was done. And to forgive? That was impossible.
With her decision came a strange sensation of unbuttoned relief, almost as if a band had been loosened from her breast.
********************
Ive got a surprise for you! Alex lit up, glimmering from foot to foot in the hallway as if hed found the golden ticket in a packet of custard creams. He could barely contain himselfhis joy so sharp and bright. Youre going to love it! Come on, quickly now, dont keep a person waiting, eh!
Victoria stood at her bedroom doorway, a cooling cup of tea cradled in her hands. She gave Alex a puzzled look, then set the cup aside. What was this surprise? Why did his cheer make her uneasy, jangling at the edge of foreboding? Within her, a taut thread threatened to snap.
Where are we going? she asked, quietly.
Youll see! Promise itll be worth it, he grinned, gently tugging her towards the front door.
Victoria complied, but an odd numbness pressed at her. She fumbled on her coat and boots, following him outside and down the pavements, through ribbons of drizzle and swirling leaves. She wondered if hed bought tickets for the theatre, or arranged a meeting with her old mates. The guesses flitted by, none quite right.
As they entered Regents Park, she spotted a woman perched on a bench along the avenue. Dressed simplya dark woollen coat, scarf over her neck, a modest handbag balanced on her knees. Her face itched at Victorias memory, but she couldnt place it. Perhaps a distant relative of Alexs, or a colleague?
Alex strode directly to the bench, Victoria trailing, piecing fragments that refused to fit. As they got closer, the woman looked up, managing a hesitant smile. At that moment a sensation thundered through Victoria: she recognised the faceher own gaze reflected back, aged by decades.
Victoria, Alex said ceremoniously, as if pronouncing a kings name, Ive found your mum after all these years! Arent you overjoyed?
Victoria stood frozen, the world hanging suspended for half a second. How dare he? Shed been so clearshe wanted nothing to do with that woman.
My darling girl! Youve grown up so beautiful! The woman lurched to her feet, arms outstretched as if to enfold her. Her voice trembled, her eyes shining with true longing.
Victoria recoiled, taking a step back, increasing the distance, her features carved cold.
Its meyour mother! The woman pressed on, ignoring Victorias stony stillness. Ive never stopped searching for you, worrying over you all these years
It wasnt easy! Alex broke in, beaming with pride and idiotic cheer. Took a lot of effortold school friends, phone calls to the council, you name it. But I did it!
His words were abruptly cut off by the sharp sound of a slap. Victorias hand had flown, almost independent of her will, stinging into his cheek. Her eyes blurred with tearshumiliation and rage. She stared at Alex, bewildered: how could he violate her trust this way?
What are you doing? Alex gasped, hand to his face. The question echoed outright shock. I only wanted to help, to do something good
Victoria spoke not a word. Inside, a tempest raged. Alex, whom she had cherished and relied on, had kicked out the foundation beneath her feet, upending her deepest rule: never stir her past. What she had worked so carefully to bury had now been dragged naked into the sun, all for his well-meaning plans.
The woman, uncertain, flickered her gaze between her daughter and Alex, at a loss. She opened her mouth but faltered at the expression on Victorias face.
I never asked you to find her, Victoria finally said, quietly. Her voice was a faint wire, vibrating. I told youit wasnt for me. But you did it anyway.
Alex brought his hand away from his cheek, speechless. He considered Victoria, searching for a flicker of forgiveness, but all he found was her glacial resolve.
I said I didnt even want to hear about her! Victorias anger trembled out loud. This mother of mine left me on a bench at Kings Cross when I was four! Alone! Surrounded by goodness-knows-what! Wearing nothing but a mac! And you expect me to forgive that?
Alex paled, but stood firm, drawing himself taller.
Shes your mother. Doesnt matter what happenedshes your mother!
At that, the woman inched forward, her voice barely above a whisper, plaintive and threadbare, desperate for understanding.
You were always ill, and I couldnt afford medicine I had a job at last, and I really thought I could come back and get youhonestly. Everything would be bettertogether again.
Victoria spun to face her, eyes devoid of mercy, only worn, aged sorrow.
From where? The graveyard? Her voice was sharp, nearly cruel, but words had become unstoppable. If you were desperate, theres social services, theres hospital, there are papers to file. But not the cold, not the street, not like that!
Alex, fumbling, reached for Victorias hand, encircling her wrist. She twisted away instantly, not meeting his eyes.
Thats the past; you should live the present, he insisted, as if pleading with both her and himself. I thought youd want your family there for your wedding. Ive made that dream come true
Victoria glanced at hima look so full of disappointment he staggered as if hit.
I invited Mrs Harding, the head of the childrens home, and Miss Knight, my carer. They are my real mums, she said, quiet but immovable. They were there for me, cared for me, loved me. Thats my family!
She yanked her wrist free and, without another word or backwards glance, dashed from the park. Her feet propelled her along the paths, through teeming flowerbeds and grey-wet avenues, wanting only to get away from that conversation, those peoplethe man who had once been her haven. Inside, a storm raged so fierce she felt she could barely breathe, felt betrayed beyond measure.
She had been honest with Alextold him everything about her life, every raw, unsweetened detail. The months in care, the empty hope that her mother might come back. Alex had nodded, swearing understanding. And still, he found her. Still, he brought her along. No matter what, shes your motherthose words echoed in her ears, fanning new hurt.
Never! Victoria resolved. She would not accept that womannot ever, not for anything. She would not pretend her childhood belonged to another.
She did not pause, walking out onto the main road, heedless of the route beneath her. Her thoughts tangled; her minds eye conjured the face shed seen todayolder, pinched, laden with a rueful, uncertain smile. She clenched her fists, trying to banish the vision. All she wanted now was distance.
She didnt go back for her things at Alexs flat. There wasnt muchjust a few bits of clothing, a handful of books. The big move had been planned for after the wedding, so most of her possessions sat in her council flat. Goodshe had no reason to go back now, not while every object reminded her of Alex.
Her phone throbbed with message after messageAlex trying, and failing, to reach her. She eyed his name flashing up, resistingknowing that if she answered she might say something impossible to unsay. Best to let things settle, to let the first tide of pain ebb quietly.
But Alex didnt let up. After his calls came the voicemailshis voice turned sharp and affronted.
Victoria, youre being childish! I was trying to do something nice, and this is how you thank me? Honestly, youre being hysterical!
And then, curt and harder still:
Ive decided. Margaret will be at the wedding. End of story. I wont back down because of your tantrums. Well have a proper family, and our children will call her Grandma. Thats normal, thats right!
Standing at the bus stop, Victoria listened, her insides twisting tight. She turned off the phone, stuffed it in her pocket, and gazed up at the rainy London sky. Her world, so recently whole, now had a crack running right through it, and she hadnt the faintest idea how to mend it.
For a while she stared dully at the last messages. The words hung before her: fixed, uncompromising. Margaret will be at the wedding. End of story. They dug deep.
She opened her messages, typed out a replyconcise and frightfully clear, stripped of any ambiguity: There will be no wedding. I dont want to see youeither of you.
Send.
She waited as the little tick appeared, confirming it was delivered. Placing the phone down, she noticed immediately the screen lighting upAlex calling again, messages trickling in. She ignored them, went into her contacts, called up his number, andsteadfastblocked it.
Silence finally wrapped around her like a warm blanket, a hush shed almost forgotten.
Perhaps shed regret it in the lonely weeks to come. Perhaps. But right now, in this moment, it was the only thing that felt righta thin, weary clarity rising in the aftermath of a storm.
This was the only way. She could not share a future with someone capable of such trespass.
