they said. Words like “judgemental”, “lacking in empathy”, and “rigid personality” had been bandied about; meaningless psycho-babble straight out of some left-wing social work textbook, no doubt. And thus this questionable group of people had passed their own judgement on me.
There had been no means of appeal. As will be appreciated by anyone with a scrap of insight, I had been left with no choice but to take the matter into my own hands.
By February, I was taking the first steps towards a fundamentally different future. I had decided on Newcastle for its distance from Nottingham, and as a fine, distinctive city in its own right. Only Newcastle’s proximity to Durham, with that city’s sad associations for me, made me hesitate over my choice at first. Yet the advantages were clear and I resolved to overcome my doubts, and to look firmly down at a book rather than out of the window as the train passed through Durham station.
I made my very specific wishes quite clear to the Homefind estate agency. As a widow with a small daughter, I explained, I was looking for a smallish house, with three bedrooms, preferably detached, with a neat, easy-to-manage and secure back garden, to allow the child to play safely. I felt no qualms about presenting myself in this way – in my mind I was already Lucy’s mother.
The agency soon found a very suitable house on a predominantly post-Fifties estate on the edge of the suburb of Gosforth. It was perfect for my needs, having one bedroom off the “half-landing”, and two further bedrooms with dormer windows set into the slope of the roof. It was described as a “Dutch bungalow”. I liked the term. It gave my new home a touch of the exotic, while retaining a wholesome image.
The house was freshly whitewashed and stood at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, its garden backing onto a pleasant area of trees and fields where people strolled and walked their dogs. There was even a small playground nearby – ideal for Lucy. The neighbouring houses were far enough away for me not to feel overlooked. My – sorry, our! – new home (I would have to get used to using the plural pronoun) had been well maintained by the elderly couple who were selling it. Certainly, the decoration was a little old-fashioned, but that didn’t matter to me. Thanks to Mother’s carefully invested estate, added to the anticipated sale of our house in Nottingham, and my own smaller savings, I was able to contemplate not working while caring for a young child. This was very important to me; far too many young children were placed in the care of nurseries or childminders. I had no intention of Lucy becoming a “latch-key” child.
Fortunately, there were spare funds to put in a new kitchen and bathroom, and for fresh wallpaper and paint throughout. Mother had never been a great spender, but she would have enjoyed discussing decoration and soft furnishings with me, especially when it came to Lucy’s room. At times like this I missed her terribly. In fact, if I am truthful, not a moment went by when I did not miss her, but at least having so much to occupy my mind did help.
It was vital to be able to come and go freely at the new house over the coming weeks, without arousing curiosity or suspicion. One of my first tasks was to visit the next-door neighbours on either side and introduce myself. I’d never been one for dropping in and out of other people’s homes, so I felt a degree of anxiety about these initial contacts. To the left was a youngish couple, Susan and Mike Harmon. They had a nice polite little girl of about nine called Claire, and a younger boy, Charlie, who seemed somewhat boisterous and over-excitable.
‘Come on in, it’s just lovely to meet you, Alison!’ said Susan, eagerly taking my arm as I hesitated on the doorstep. ‘Come into the kitchen and let’s have a cup of tea.’
Susan didn’t think to ask what sort of tea I might prefer. In fact, she served what Mother would have called “builders’ tea”, but I drank it and made no comment.
‘So you see, we’ll be coming up in a while – my little girl Lucy and I – just as soon as the house is ready,’ I explained.
‘Ooh, how lovely! It’ll be so nice for all of us to have a younger family next door. Charlie – did you hear that? A little girl next door for you to play with!’ Susan turned back to me. ‘How old is Lucy?’
I almost panicked for a moment. I felt a rush of colour swarming up my neck and cheeks. How could I know exactly how old Lucy was?
‘She’s … er … a bit younger than Charlie.’ I lowered my voice. ‘The thing is, Susan, we lost Lucy’s daddy recently …’
This was a useful device to distract Susan from her question. Her eyes widened and she put her hands up to her face, which adopted a tragic expression.
‘Lost …? Oh no, how terrible! I’m so sorry … er … how …’
‘Accident …’ I whispered under my breath. ‘Yes, that’s why we had to move, you understand … to allow us to rebuild our lives together up here in Newcastle. A completely new start.’
I was getting into my stride now. I noted Susan’s agonised expression and continued. ‘I’m looking forward to making a happy, loving home, for Lucy’s sake. That’s what I’ll live for now.’
Susan nodded at me knowingly. To my astonishment, her eyes filled with tears. She squeezed my arm tenderly. I gulped and looked at my lap.
‘Right now,’ I said, inserting a slight tremor into my voice, ‘Lucy has been staying with … um … an aunt back in Nottingham whenever I make these visits to the North East to get things sorted. She’s been very supportive, but I’m hoping we can both settle here properly soon.’
Susan continued her nodding, while biting her lip in a rather foolish way that I supposed was intended to denote empathy. I took a deep breath, and concentrated on brightening my facial expression.
‘I’m sorry, Susan – I didn’t want to upset you with all this gloomy talk. Just listen to me, I’ve done nothing but talk about myself! How rude of me – please tell me more about you.’
Susan didn’t need asking twice; she looked relieved to change the subject. She was a naturally talkative person, and seemed keen to tell me all about the family; her husband Michael (‘most people call him Mike’) was a GP and she herself was a part-time solicitor. There was an excellent first school on the estate, which Claire attended. She had the rest of that year there before moving on to the middle school. Charlie had started going to the nursery part-time.
Susan was sure Lucy would love it too, when she started. I quickly intervened and explained that I felt Lucy was too young for nursery just at the moment. She would need some time to settle down first.
‘Of course she will, Alison. Dear little Lucy will need her mummy more than anything at the moment,’ she said, ‘but don’t forget she can come and play with Charlie any time, any time at all – and Claire will just love playing the older sister. Also, we know most of the people around here and can easily introduce you. That’ll help you to settle and get to know people. Everyone’s really friendly.’
I wasn’t at all sure I liked the sound of these introductions, but decided that at least it showed that Susan and Mike were welcoming and accepting.
The neighbours on the other side were an older retired couple, Frank and Molly Armstrong. They were equally warm, rushing about to produce tea and homemade scones for me when I called. I told them the same story as I’d told to the Harmons. Molly Armstrong shook her head and
