Fic: Tears Of My Heart [Part Seven]
Author: miss_peg
Artist: tromana
Link To Art: Here.
Word count: 27206
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Lots of swearing and a bit of violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins...ah well.
Summary: When Cook gets out of prison having served time for absconding, he moves in with Naomi, Emily and Gina. After the death of his mother, Cook is faced with questions about his past. With Naomi's help, they go on an emotional journey which results in a revelation that could change both of their lives.
Notes: I was so excited to take part in the skins_bigbang and I am so glad that I finally took the time to write this story. I'd had it in my head for over a year and began it once, before realising that it needed more time than I was able to give it. I'm so proud of finally finishing it.
A massive thank you to tromana, who has literally been my everything throughout this whole process. My beta (you makes me a better writer), my cheerleader, my ideas bouncer, without you I don't think I'd have got through. Nor would I have the amazing art that you made for me. It's been a pleasure to do all of that for you too, in return. I can't wait for us to 'swap' art.
You should all check out her awesome skins_bigbang, which was her first proper Skins fic, not that you could possibly tell. Tick Tock.
[ Part One - Five]
Part Six
Part Seven
When Gina dropped the phone on the floor she let out a loud yelp which attracted the attention of Naomi. As she struggled to catch her breath, she cursed quietly and returned the phone to its correct position, her hands shaking dramatically as she walked down the hallway towards the kitchen.
‘What happened?’
‘Dropped the phone,’ Gina said, smiling forcefully, but her hands still shook and her knees felt more like jelly than stable poles. She lowered herself back onto a chair, thankful for the stability of the wooden legs.
Naomi raised an eyebrow, with apprehension, as she watched Gina battling with something. She couldn’t figure out what. Her mother was secretive when she wanted to be, more so recently. She opened her mouth to speak, but Gina quickly changed the subject. Though she wished to address whatever was causing her mother distress, she also knew the likelihood of getting a positive response was slim.
‘These riots, it’s a disgrace what is happening to our poor country,’ Gina mused, proud that her daughter had no role in such situations. If anything, Naomi had already written copious messages on Bristol’s wall of love, opting for the positive response that many people her senior had been unable to afford.
‘They’re a bunch of fucking idiots.’
‘Good job I got one you like,’ Gina smiled, cupping her daughter’s cheek and struggling to hold back tears. Naomi rolled her eyes and shrugged her off. Sometimes Gina could be really embarrassing. She was only thankful that Emily or Cook hadn’t been there to witness it.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Naomi muttered and took another Garibaldi out of the packet. ‘Even the cats are at it, did you see the two tomcats from down the road? Screeching at each other like it was the end of the world. I was going to scare Roger off, but Mills took a swipe at me.’
‘That’s the thing Naomi darling, as dangerous as it is getting involved in rioting. It’s even worse when you try to get involved in cat politics; it’s much more interesting than human politics.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Deadly.’
‘Next you’ll be telling me fish politics is the next best thing.’
‘Have you seen the sea lately?’ Gina gasped, shaking her head. ‘Those sharks, they’re the biggest bullies of the lot.’
‘You’ve gone nuts.’
The laughter died away and Gina appeared more apprehensive than someone having an enjoyable afternoon with her daughter. Naomi raised an eyebrow and watched her carefully. She busied herself with the teapot, stirring the leaves about in the few inches of water that was left. Something wasn’t right and if Naomi was honest with herself, it hadn’t been for some time.
‘Mum?’ Naomi asked, worrisomely.
‘Pass me the biscuits love,’ Gina muttered, laying the teapot to rest. Naomi watched her movement, slow, cautious, as she nibbled on her biscuit.
How could one phone call change her mood so easily? And how could she pretend that nothing had even happened when it was blindingly obvious that something serious was going on.
‘Mum, what’s going on?’ she repeated, taking the packet of biscuits away from Gina, who tried to take out another biscuit. 'What's wrong?'
'Why does something always have to be wrong?'
'You have that look,’ Naomi whispered, her jaw clenched together with concern. ‘You only look like that when something's wrong.'
‘There’s nothing wrong,’ Gina replied, quickly and without much emotion.
'Now you're lying to me.'
'It's complicated.'
'Too complicated that someone as uneducated as I couldn't possibly understand?' Naomi rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, for no other reason but to show Gina just how bothered she was.
'I thought we'd decided I was entitled to a private life.'
'No, mum, you decided you were. I'm still wondering what the fuck is going on.'
'Nothing is going on.'
'Except it is.'
'I mean this in the nicest possible way love, fuck the hell off.'
She would do no such thing and Gina could do nothing to stop her, she could tell by the glare in her eyes. Stubborn through and through, something she’d passed down to her, begrudgingly. If the situation wasn’t so delicate, she’d have appreciated how much Naomi actually cared. However, things were not as simple as that and she would not be dictated to by her barely-adult daughter.
‘No. Don’t fucking lie to me again,’ Naomi snapped, banging the Garibaldi’s down on the table with detrimental effect. ‘This isn’t the first time you’ve acted like this mum, what the hell is going on and don’t fucking pretend there’s nothing?’
Unexpectedly, Gina lifted her hands to her face and crumbled before Naomi’s very eyes. Her shoulder’s hunched over the table as teardrops strolled down her cheeks, landing carelessly upon the wooden top. She shook uncontrollably as each sob grew more and more robust until she could only breathe in great gasps. Naomi’s heart sank with a mixture of guilt and pain which filled her as she watched her mother fall apart. If she’d known how much it would have affected her, she wouldn’t have pushed so hard, but ultimately, her worries were anything but lessened.
‘I think we should make an appointment at the doctors,’ Naomi whispered, resting her hand against Gina’s upper arm. She didn’t want the past to repeat itself any more than Gina probably did, but she knew as well as anyone how damaging depression could be.
‘No,’ Gina snapped, pushing Naomi’s arm away. ‘I don’t need a doctor and I don’t need your sympathy.’
‘You’re my mum, Christ, what do you expect?’
‘I expect you to mind your own fucking business,’ Gina snarled, before sobbing again, obviously regretful. She couldn’t push Naomi away, she wouldn’t. So what if her past was creeping up on her like a prowling cat? She could handle it; she could deal with the fall out.
‘I can’t do that mum, I won’t leave you to do this alone, whatever it is,’ Naomi sighed, resting her hand against Gina’s shoulder and letting out a long, deep breath. She couldn’t watch her in that much pain and not do anything to help.
‘I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve any of this,’ Gina cried. She couldn’t handle it, the fall out; it was too much of a risk. She shook her head in her hands and mumbled to herself incoherently.
She’d not seen her mother in such a state since she was a teenager when it happened nearly twice weekly until they finally got help. The last time had been a couple of years ago when she last spoken to her parents. Grandparents that Naomi had never met and couldn’t even pick out of a crowd.
‘Was it them? Was it your mum and dad?’ she asked, resting a hand over Gina’s and trying to remain calm.
The very mention of her mum and dad, after all those years, was enough to make Gina cry even harder. She couldn’t bear to think of them, let alone have a conversation about them. Everything was getting on top of her. She’d tried to keep things from Naomi, not to protect her from harm, but to protect herself from losing it. Naomi needed a mother who could look after her, not one who needed medical attention. But the past caught up with most people and finally, she realised it had caught up with her too.
‘No,’ she whispered, wiping her eyes and gasping for air. Naomi’s hands lay comfortingly on her shoulders. She’d brought her up well, her beautiful baby girl, willing to comfort her mum in times of dire need. She reached a hand out to Naomi’s and turned into her arms, sobbing against her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.’
‘What for?’ Naomi asked, pushing her back. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about mum and, right now, I’m scared.’
‘There’s something,’ Gina started to say, but the state of her made it harder to get her words out, until she trailed off incoherent babbles.
‘Christ mum, I think that’s fucking obvious, don’t you?’
‘I can’t,’ Gina cried out, shaking her head and holding her eyes tightly together.
For a moment, Gina wondered if Naomi was going to leave her alone as she stood up and walked out of the room. She let out a soft sigh of relief, until Naomi returned with the phone in her hands.
'Wha, what are y, you doing?' she stuttered, reaching for the phone but Naomi stepped backwards out of reach.
'If you're not going to tell me, I'll find out for myself.'
'Naomi, don't,’ she called out as her daughter held the phone to her ear, her sobs were the only sound in the room. ‘You don't know what you're doing.'
Naomi eventually dropped the phone onto the table, her brow furrowed and her face contorted with a look of incomprehension. She looked at Gina cautiously, until her eyes grew wide.
'Wh. why is Cook's uncle ringing you up and why are you being secretive about it?'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' Gina barked, her last ditch attempt at avoiding her past as it crept up behind her.
'Stop being so fucking secretive Gina and tell me what the fuck is going on before I start thinking you've been lying to me my whole life.'
What else was there to say? Gina had been lying to her for her whole life; there was no escaping that, no matter which way she wanted to twist it. The truth will out, when it wants to and there was very little she could do about it. Her only relief being that she could stem the blows, hand them out gradually instead of all at once. As hard as this would be, she knew the worst was yet to come.
'He's, he's your father.'
xxx
The conversation climaxed instantly with the long silence that followed, leaving Naomi shaking. She removed her hands from Gina’s shoulders and sat back in her chair. She’d always been told that her dad had never contacted them, that he didn’t want to see her and most importantly, didn’t want Naomi to know who he was.
‘What?’ she gasped, her chest feeling considerably smaller than the massive organs fighting for space. 'My dad is a shitty little prick who didn't want me. But he's not that much of a shitty bastard.'
Despite believing everything Gina had told her about her dad, there was always a little ray of hope living inside of her as she hoped for the same things she had as a child. Maybe one day her dad would want her and they’d take trips to the cinema, or bowling, just the two of them, father and daughter, making up for all of the lost years. Now, all hope was dashed as she pictured the same trips, alone.
'Sam isn't so bad.'
'You should have seen the way he spoke to me, mum,’ she cried, shaking her head adamantly. ‘He's what you consider the riff raff you would never give a home to. He's a violent tosser.'
'He didn't used to be like that, Naomi,’ Gina whispered, pulling Naomi’s hands into her own and holding them against the table. She had that look, that worried expression she’d carried on several occasions. Naomi’s heart sank as tears pricked the backs of her eyes. ‘He called to make sure you don’t go back to see him.’
‘Why the fuck would I want to see someone like him?’
A lump caught in the back of her throat and she choked on tears. For years she’d wanted to, just once, to see what he was like. Now, she couldn’t even stomach the idea of who her father was, let alone want to see him. It wasn’t Gina’s fault, she knew that. But she couldn’t help the anger she felt towards the woman that bore her. Her body language seemed to do nothing to keep her mother at bay as Gina reached out to embrace her.
'Don't,' Naomi snapped, pushing her away.
'Naomi, love,' Gina tried, tears strolling back down her cheeks.
'No,' Naomi shook her head as she fell apart, crying so hard that her throat hurt. 'This wasn't supposed to be about me, Cook wanted my help. I didn't want to find him, I was happy without him.'
'I know,’ Gina responded, trying again, reaching out to hold Naomi’s hand, but she pulled it back. ‘I’m so sorry.'
She couldn’t breathe as her chest inflated and deflated in quick succession with the shock. Cook’s Uncle, even if he wasn’t actually related to him, was her dad. He was her dad and all she could think about was how horrible he’d been and how much of a fucking screw up he was. She stood up fast and her vision blurred briefly, her legs felt like jelly and her insides moved unstably. She became vaguely familiar of Emily walking down the hallway as she rushed towards the door, but her ears had stopped working, as had her brain. The fresh air did nothing to stem her tears as she ran off down the street.
xxx
‘Answer the fucking phone Naomi,’ he cursed under his breath as he stepped up to the front door, his stomach twisted with nerves.
This was it, the one chance he had of actually changing his life. He'd wished for years to have a better life, to have a family that actually cared about him. He always said he got more than his fair share of bad luck. The scars on his bottom had been a physical reminder of all the times he'd had a belt whacked against him by his so called grandfather. What would happen now? He didn’t know these people, they didn’t know him. They might not even live there anymore. He had never felt so nervous before, except the day he went to prison. The fear of the unknown. Only this time, it was an unknown he would never get to change. He couldn’t make the couple that lived there care about him. He looked again at their house, a fucking detached. For most of his life he didn’t even know what a detached house looked like, except his grandpa’s farm and that was different.
He slipped his phone away and knocked lightly on the door, rolling his eyes at how much of a pussy he was being before pressing the doorbell. His heart pounded in his chest to the point where he wondered if he was having a heart attack. He didn’t really know what one felt like; it could have been any number of things. A silhouette was walking towards the front door. Cook stared at his reflection and rearranged the front of his hair. Why hadn’t he chosen to wear his suit? Or at least something smarter than the polo shirt he was wearing for a second day. He gritted his teeth as the door opened and a tall man with grey hair smiled at him.
'Hello, can I help you?'
'Hi,' he began, pausing after hearing his own voice. He hated it. It made him sound like a twat; then again, he was a twat. He smiled back. 'My name's James, I’m looking for a lady called Reggie.'
The man's eyes grew wide and then his whole face shut down, his cheeks had turned red and he started to mumble to himself.
'Nobody of that name here,' he muttered, quickly.
'But there was?' Cook noted.
'No, no one of that name here,' the man repeated.
'You’re not telling me the truth,' Cook snapped, regretting it before he looked the man square in the eye.
'I’ve not seen Reggie for twenty years.'
'But she used to live here? She's your daughter?'
'Y, yes,' the man stuttered, his face still an unusual shade of red.
'I’m trying to find her, do you know where she is? I’m, I’m her son.'
The man stared at him like he’d seen a ghost and his jaw juddered for a moment before he closed his mouth tightly, his lips pursed together, reminding Cook of the headmistress of his primary school. The only woman, aside from Ruth, that he was actually scared of.
‘Hatty,’ the man shouted behind him, a note of distress in his voice. A plump lady, who was reasonably short, walked up behind him and her eyes narrowed in on Cook in an instant. Her dyed blonde bob framed her face and she stared at Cook in a similar way to that of, what he assumed was, her husband. ‘It’s the boy.’
Cook didn’t think he needed much introduction, from the way she had stared at him. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when he knocked on the door, but that certainly wasn’t it. Neither of them looked like they had any idea what to do with themselves and the woman looked about ready to faint.
‘James,’ the man repeated, smiling at Cook with tears in his eyes. ‘She named him after my dad.’
‘Is she here too?’ Hatty questioned, her eyes darting around behind Cook until he shook his head.
‘I thought you might know where she is. My mum, Ruth, the woman that brought me up, she never told me I were adopted. I only found out ‘cause she died.’
‘Oh dear, come in, come in,’ Hatty gasped, wrapping an arm around Cook’s shoulder and guiding him down the hallway and into a large lounge room.
He sat down, as instructed, by the plump lady and rested his hands in his lap. He didn’t know how to behave, not least because the house itself was immaculate. The couple disappeared out into the hallway and Cook tried to ignore the muttered discussion they shared. He stood up and walked along the edge of the fireplace where a number of photographs sat. As he looked at each one in turn, his heart leapt into his mouth and he could barely breathe.
‘Oh the photos,’ Hatty squealed as she walked in behind him.
‘Sorry,’ he choked, backing away from the photographs.
‘Nonsense, that’s your mum and your sister,’ Hatty grinned, picking up one of the frames and handing it to him. ‘Of course, we don’t have anything more up to date. Reggie hasn’t been back here for a long time, she sent us a couple of pictures a few years back, but nothing since.’
‘I don’t understand,’ he gasped, taking the photo frame from her and staring down at the woman and child in the photograph.
‘What don’t you understand dear? That’s our Regina and little Naomi, though she’s not so little anymore. She’s only a year or so younger than you.’
Part Eight
Part Nine
Parts Ten
Artist: tromana
Link To Art: Here.
Word count: 27206
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Lots of swearing and a bit of violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins...ah well.
Summary: When Cook gets out of prison having served time for absconding, he moves in with Naomi, Emily and Gina. After the death of his mother, Cook is faced with questions about his past. With Naomi's help, they go on an emotional journey which results in a revelation that could change both of their lives.
Notes: I was so excited to take part in the skins_bigbang and I am so glad that I finally took the time to write this story. I'd had it in my head for over a year and began it once, before realising that it needed more time than I was able to give it. I'm so proud of finally finishing it.
A massive thank you to tromana, who has literally been my everything throughout this whole process. My beta (you makes me a better writer), my cheerleader, my ideas bouncer, without you I don't think I'd have got through. Nor would I have the amazing art that you made for me. It's been a pleasure to do all of that for you too, in return. I can't wait for us to 'swap' art.
You should all check out her awesome skins_bigbang, which was her first proper Skins fic, not that you could possibly tell. Tick Tock.
[ Part One - Five]
Part Six
Part Seven
When Gina dropped the phone on the floor she let out a loud yelp which attracted the attention of Naomi. As she struggled to catch her breath, she cursed quietly and returned the phone to its correct position, her hands shaking dramatically as she walked down the hallway towards the kitchen.
‘What happened?’
‘Dropped the phone,’ Gina said, smiling forcefully, but her hands still shook and her knees felt more like jelly than stable poles. She lowered herself back onto a chair, thankful for the stability of the wooden legs.
Naomi raised an eyebrow, with apprehension, as she watched Gina battling with something. She couldn’t figure out what. Her mother was secretive when she wanted to be, more so recently. She opened her mouth to speak, but Gina quickly changed the subject. Though she wished to address whatever was causing her mother distress, she also knew the likelihood of getting a positive response was slim.
‘These riots, it’s a disgrace what is happening to our poor country,’ Gina mused, proud that her daughter had no role in such situations. If anything, Naomi had already written copious messages on Bristol’s wall of love, opting for the positive response that many people her senior had been unable to afford.
‘They’re a bunch of fucking idiots.’
‘Good job I got one you like,’ Gina smiled, cupping her daughter’s cheek and struggling to hold back tears. Naomi rolled her eyes and shrugged her off. Sometimes Gina could be really embarrassing. She was only thankful that Emily or Cook hadn’t been there to witness it.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Naomi muttered and took another Garibaldi out of the packet. ‘Even the cats are at it, did you see the two tomcats from down the road? Screeching at each other like it was the end of the world. I was going to scare Roger off, but Mills took a swipe at me.’
‘That’s the thing Naomi darling, as dangerous as it is getting involved in rioting. It’s even worse when you try to get involved in cat politics; it’s much more interesting than human politics.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Deadly.’
‘Next you’ll be telling me fish politics is the next best thing.’
‘Have you seen the sea lately?’ Gina gasped, shaking her head. ‘Those sharks, they’re the biggest bullies of the lot.’
‘You’ve gone nuts.’
The laughter died away and Gina appeared more apprehensive than someone having an enjoyable afternoon with her daughter. Naomi raised an eyebrow and watched her carefully. She busied herself with the teapot, stirring the leaves about in the few inches of water that was left. Something wasn’t right and if Naomi was honest with herself, it hadn’t been for some time.
‘Mum?’ Naomi asked, worrisomely.
‘Pass me the biscuits love,’ Gina muttered, laying the teapot to rest. Naomi watched her movement, slow, cautious, as she nibbled on her biscuit.
How could one phone call change her mood so easily? And how could she pretend that nothing had even happened when it was blindingly obvious that something serious was going on.
‘Mum, what’s going on?’ she repeated, taking the packet of biscuits away from Gina, who tried to take out another biscuit. 'What's wrong?'
'Why does something always have to be wrong?'
'You have that look,’ Naomi whispered, her jaw clenched together with concern. ‘You only look like that when something's wrong.'
‘There’s nothing wrong,’ Gina replied, quickly and without much emotion.
'Now you're lying to me.'
'It's complicated.'
'Too complicated that someone as uneducated as I couldn't possibly understand?' Naomi rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, for no other reason but to show Gina just how bothered she was.
'I thought we'd decided I was entitled to a private life.'
'No, mum, you decided you were. I'm still wondering what the fuck is going on.'
'Nothing is going on.'
'Except it is.'
'I mean this in the nicest possible way love, fuck the hell off.'
She would do no such thing and Gina could do nothing to stop her, she could tell by the glare in her eyes. Stubborn through and through, something she’d passed down to her, begrudgingly. If the situation wasn’t so delicate, she’d have appreciated how much Naomi actually cared. However, things were not as simple as that and she would not be dictated to by her barely-adult daughter.
‘No. Don’t fucking lie to me again,’ Naomi snapped, banging the Garibaldi’s down on the table with detrimental effect. ‘This isn’t the first time you’ve acted like this mum, what the hell is going on and don’t fucking pretend there’s nothing?’
Unexpectedly, Gina lifted her hands to her face and crumbled before Naomi’s very eyes. Her shoulder’s hunched over the table as teardrops strolled down her cheeks, landing carelessly upon the wooden top. She shook uncontrollably as each sob grew more and more robust until she could only breathe in great gasps. Naomi’s heart sank with a mixture of guilt and pain which filled her as she watched her mother fall apart. If she’d known how much it would have affected her, she wouldn’t have pushed so hard, but ultimately, her worries were anything but lessened.
‘I think we should make an appointment at the doctors,’ Naomi whispered, resting her hand against Gina’s upper arm. She didn’t want the past to repeat itself any more than Gina probably did, but she knew as well as anyone how damaging depression could be.
‘No,’ Gina snapped, pushing Naomi’s arm away. ‘I don’t need a doctor and I don’t need your sympathy.’
‘You’re my mum, Christ, what do you expect?’
‘I expect you to mind your own fucking business,’ Gina snarled, before sobbing again, obviously regretful. She couldn’t push Naomi away, she wouldn’t. So what if her past was creeping up on her like a prowling cat? She could handle it; she could deal with the fall out.
‘I can’t do that mum, I won’t leave you to do this alone, whatever it is,’ Naomi sighed, resting her hand against Gina’s shoulder and letting out a long, deep breath. She couldn’t watch her in that much pain and not do anything to help.
‘I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve any of this,’ Gina cried. She couldn’t handle it, the fall out; it was too much of a risk. She shook her head in her hands and mumbled to herself incoherently.
She’d not seen her mother in such a state since she was a teenager when it happened nearly twice weekly until they finally got help. The last time had been a couple of years ago when she last spoken to her parents. Grandparents that Naomi had never met and couldn’t even pick out of a crowd.
‘Was it them? Was it your mum and dad?’ she asked, resting a hand over Gina’s and trying to remain calm.
The very mention of her mum and dad, after all those years, was enough to make Gina cry even harder. She couldn’t bear to think of them, let alone have a conversation about them. Everything was getting on top of her. She’d tried to keep things from Naomi, not to protect her from harm, but to protect herself from losing it. Naomi needed a mother who could look after her, not one who needed medical attention. But the past caught up with most people and finally, she realised it had caught up with her too.
‘No,’ she whispered, wiping her eyes and gasping for air. Naomi’s hands lay comfortingly on her shoulders. She’d brought her up well, her beautiful baby girl, willing to comfort her mum in times of dire need. She reached a hand out to Naomi’s and turned into her arms, sobbing against her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.’
‘What for?’ Naomi asked, pushing her back. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about mum and, right now, I’m scared.’
‘There’s something,’ Gina started to say, but the state of her made it harder to get her words out, until she trailed off incoherent babbles.
‘Christ mum, I think that’s fucking obvious, don’t you?’
‘I can’t,’ Gina cried out, shaking her head and holding her eyes tightly together.
For a moment, Gina wondered if Naomi was going to leave her alone as she stood up and walked out of the room. She let out a soft sigh of relief, until Naomi returned with the phone in her hands.
'Wha, what are y, you doing?' she stuttered, reaching for the phone but Naomi stepped backwards out of reach.
'If you're not going to tell me, I'll find out for myself.'
'Naomi, don't,’ she called out as her daughter held the phone to her ear, her sobs were the only sound in the room. ‘You don't know what you're doing.'
Naomi eventually dropped the phone onto the table, her brow furrowed and her face contorted with a look of incomprehension. She looked at Gina cautiously, until her eyes grew wide.
'Wh. why is Cook's uncle ringing you up and why are you being secretive about it?'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' Gina barked, her last ditch attempt at avoiding her past as it crept up behind her.
'Stop being so fucking secretive Gina and tell me what the fuck is going on before I start thinking you've been lying to me my whole life.'
What else was there to say? Gina had been lying to her for her whole life; there was no escaping that, no matter which way she wanted to twist it. The truth will out, when it wants to and there was very little she could do about it. Her only relief being that she could stem the blows, hand them out gradually instead of all at once. As hard as this would be, she knew the worst was yet to come.
'He's, he's your father.'
xxx
The conversation climaxed instantly with the long silence that followed, leaving Naomi shaking. She removed her hands from Gina’s shoulders and sat back in her chair. She’d always been told that her dad had never contacted them, that he didn’t want to see her and most importantly, didn’t want Naomi to know who he was.
‘What?’ she gasped, her chest feeling considerably smaller than the massive organs fighting for space. 'My dad is a shitty little prick who didn't want me. But he's not that much of a shitty bastard.'
Despite believing everything Gina had told her about her dad, there was always a little ray of hope living inside of her as she hoped for the same things she had as a child. Maybe one day her dad would want her and they’d take trips to the cinema, or bowling, just the two of them, father and daughter, making up for all of the lost years. Now, all hope was dashed as she pictured the same trips, alone.
'Sam isn't so bad.'
'You should have seen the way he spoke to me, mum,’ she cried, shaking her head adamantly. ‘He's what you consider the riff raff you would never give a home to. He's a violent tosser.'
'He didn't used to be like that, Naomi,’ Gina whispered, pulling Naomi’s hands into her own and holding them against the table. She had that look, that worried expression she’d carried on several occasions. Naomi’s heart sank as tears pricked the backs of her eyes. ‘He called to make sure you don’t go back to see him.’
‘Why the fuck would I want to see someone like him?’
A lump caught in the back of her throat and she choked on tears. For years she’d wanted to, just once, to see what he was like. Now, she couldn’t even stomach the idea of who her father was, let alone want to see him. It wasn’t Gina’s fault, she knew that. But she couldn’t help the anger she felt towards the woman that bore her. Her body language seemed to do nothing to keep her mother at bay as Gina reached out to embrace her.
'Don't,' Naomi snapped, pushing her away.
'Naomi, love,' Gina tried, tears strolling back down her cheeks.
'No,' Naomi shook her head as she fell apart, crying so hard that her throat hurt. 'This wasn't supposed to be about me, Cook wanted my help. I didn't want to find him, I was happy without him.'
'I know,’ Gina responded, trying again, reaching out to hold Naomi’s hand, but she pulled it back. ‘I’m so sorry.'
She couldn’t breathe as her chest inflated and deflated in quick succession with the shock. Cook’s Uncle, even if he wasn’t actually related to him, was her dad. He was her dad and all she could think about was how horrible he’d been and how much of a fucking screw up he was. She stood up fast and her vision blurred briefly, her legs felt like jelly and her insides moved unstably. She became vaguely familiar of Emily walking down the hallway as she rushed towards the door, but her ears had stopped working, as had her brain. The fresh air did nothing to stem her tears as she ran off down the street.
xxx
‘Answer the fucking phone Naomi,’ he cursed under his breath as he stepped up to the front door, his stomach twisted with nerves.
This was it, the one chance he had of actually changing his life. He'd wished for years to have a better life, to have a family that actually cared about him. He always said he got more than his fair share of bad luck. The scars on his bottom had been a physical reminder of all the times he'd had a belt whacked against him by his so called grandfather. What would happen now? He didn’t know these people, they didn’t know him. They might not even live there anymore. He had never felt so nervous before, except the day he went to prison. The fear of the unknown. Only this time, it was an unknown he would never get to change. He couldn’t make the couple that lived there care about him. He looked again at their house, a fucking detached. For most of his life he didn’t even know what a detached house looked like, except his grandpa’s farm and that was different.
He slipped his phone away and knocked lightly on the door, rolling his eyes at how much of a pussy he was being before pressing the doorbell. His heart pounded in his chest to the point where he wondered if he was having a heart attack. He didn’t really know what one felt like; it could have been any number of things. A silhouette was walking towards the front door. Cook stared at his reflection and rearranged the front of his hair. Why hadn’t he chosen to wear his suit? Or at least something smarter than the polo shirt he was wearing for a second day. He gritted his teeth as the door opened and a tall man with grey hair smiled at him.
'Hello, can I help you?'
'Hi,' he began, pausing after hearing his own voice. He hated it. It made him sound like a twat; then again, he was a twat. He smiled back. 'My name's James, I’m looking for a lady called Reggie.'
The man's eyes grew wide and then his whole face shut down, his cheeks had turned red and he started to mumble to himself.
'Nobody of that name here,' he muttered, quickly.
'But there was?' Cook noted.
'No, no one of that name here,' the man repeated.
'You’re not telling me the truth,' Cook snapped, regretting it before he looked the man square in the eye.
'I’ve not seen Reggie for twenty years.'
'But she used to live here? She's your daughter?'
'Y, yes,' the man stuttered, his face still an unusual shade of red.
'I’m trying to find her, do you know where she is? I’m, I’m her son.'
The man stared at him like he’d seen a ghost and his jaw juddered for a moment before he closed his mouth tightly, his lips pursed together, reminding Cook of the headmistress of his primary school. The only woman, aside from Ruth, that he was actually scared of.
‘Hatty,’ the man shouted behind him, a note of distress in his voice. A plump lady, who was reasonably short, walked up behind him and her eyes narrowed in on Cook in an instant. Her dyed blonde bob framed her face and she stared at Cook in a similar way to that of, what he assumed was, her husband. ‘It’s the boy.’
Cook didn’t think he needed much introduction, from the way she had stared at him. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when he knocked on the door, but that certainly wasn’t it. Neither of them looked like they had any idea what to do with themselves and the woman looked about ready to faint.
‘James,’ the man repeated, smiling at Cook with tears in his eyes. ‘She named him after my dad.’
‘Is she here too?’ Hatty questioned, her eyes darting around behind Cook until he shook his head.
‘I thought you might know where she is. My mum, Ruth, the woman that brought me up, she never told me I were adopted. I only found out ‘cause she died.’
‘Oh dear, come in, come in,’ Hatty gasped, wrapping an arm around Cook’s shoulder and guiding him down the hallway and into a large lounge room.
He sat down, as instructed, by the plump lady and rested his hands in his lap. He didn’t know how to behave, not least because the house itself was immaculate. The couple disappeared out into the hallway and Cook tried to ignore the muttered discussion they shared. He stood up and walked along the edge of the fireplace where a number of photographs sat. As he looked at each one in turn, his heart leapt into his mouth and he could barely breathe.
‘Oh the photos,’ Hatty squealed as she walked in behind him.
‘Sorry,’ he choked, backing away from the photographs.
‘Nonsense, that’s your mum and your sister,’ Hatty grinned, picking up one of the frames and handing it to him. ‘Of course, we don’t have anything more up to date. Reggie hasn’t been back here for a long time, she sent us a couple of pictures a few years back, but nothing since.’
‘I don’t understand,’ he gasped, taking the photo frame from her and staring down at the woman and child in the photograph.
‘What don’t you understand dear? That’s our Regina and little Naomi, though she’s not so little anymore. She’s only a year or so younger than you.’
Part Eight
Part Nine
Parts Ten