The Cuckoo, July 1983
As the big orange car she was travelling in hurtled down the M4, Katy felt she might be sick with nerves. Her social worker, Fiona, sat rigid and upright next to her in a hot-pink short-sleeved blouse, her hands firmly in the ten-to-two position on the steering wheel, every now and again turning to flash her a reassuring smile as they sped towards Bristol. It was stifling in the car, despite the windows being wound down and the fan on full. Katy had been allowed to sit in the front because of her travel sickness. She preferred it at the front: it was easier to see out. The sky was a clear blue with a few streaky clouds in the distance, and the sun beat down, glinting off the bonnet. Fiona had the radio on, low so as not to distract her too much while driving apparently, and ‘Club Tropicana’ was playing. Katy liked the song. It made her feel happy. She took it as a good sign.
The lush green countryside sped past her window until they turned onto another road, smaller this time, and the fields of sheep and cows fell away to be replaced with glassy buildings, ugly concrete car parks and shops. Her new family lived in a place called Clifton. She liked the way it sounded on her tongue, sharp and precise. She hadn’t been to see her house yet. Her new mum and dad, Elspeth and Huw McKenzie, had visited the children’s home in Gloucester and taken her out for tea a few times at the local hotel. She liked them, although they seemed a bit posh. When she was with them she felt as though she needed to be extra polite. But, still, she was excited even when Tommy Evans, an irritating eight-year-old that the grown-ups seemed to find cute, returned after living with the McKenzies for a week saying they were stuck up and he couldn’t do anything right. She’d heard rumours that he’d been kicked out because he was naughty and the McKenzies couldn’t cope with him. She’d never found out exactly what he’d done, but Fiona told her they felt a girl would suit their family better. And it seemed that the girl they wanted to adopt was her. She would no longer be plain old Katy Collins, but Katy McKenzie. She’d have a new sister, too. A girl with a name that sounded a little like ‘violin’. Katy always wished she’d learnt to play the violin but the home didn’t allow it because lessons were too expensive. Fiona was very excited about this ‘match’, as she called it. After the initial interview she’d said something about how ‘affluent’ they were. Katy didn’t know what the word meant, but from the way Fiona’s freckled face broke into a huge grin when she said it, she knew it must mean something good.
They drove a bit further through what Fiona called the city centre, past a theatre with ‘Hippodrome’ written across it in big bright letters, up a hill and then a long road where everything started to look prettier with more trees and bigger houses.
‘Look over there,’ said Fiona, pointing at a long bridge that crossed what looked like two cliffs. ‘That’s the suspension bridge. It’s famous, and at night it’s all lit up. You’ll be able to see it every night from your new house.’ And then she pulled up in front of one of the grandest houses Katy had ever seen. It was the colour of candyfloss and had a balcony on the third floor with a black-and-white-striped awning stretched over it that reminded her of humbug sweets.
She had just stepped out of the car and onto the pavement when the front door of the candyfloss house was flung open to reveal a beaming Elspeth. Her blonde hair was held back in a banana clip so that when she turned her head the curls fell past her shoulders. She was wearing a smart jacket with padded shoulders and a matching knee-length fitted skirt. Katy couldn’t believe this elegant lady was going to be her new mum. She looked like the mum out of the film E.T.
Elspeth came rushing towards them, her husband, Huw, close behind. He was older than Elspeth by nearly fifteen years. Katy knew this because Elspeth had told her over a cream tea when she last visited. Huw certainly looked older, with his receding hairline and his bushy grey beard. He was something to do with hedge funds, so Elspeth had said, sitting up straighter and looking proud when she revealed this nugget of information. Katy didn’t know what hedge funds were but she thought it had something to do with gardens. And judging by the box hedging in the McKenzies’ front garden she could imagine Huw out there trimming them into the perfect right-angles.
Elspeth darted out of the front gate to greet her. ‘Darling girl,’ she said, holding her shoulders. ‘Let me look at you. Just as pretty as I remembered.’ Katy blushed. She didn’t feel pretty. She wasn’t like Isla at the home with her silky black hair, pert nose and skinny limbs. Elspeth placed an arm around Katy’s shoulders, guiding her down the pathway and into the house. Huw was hovering, grinning manically but not saying anything, as though he didn’t really know what to do. Katy understood how he felt. Fiona followed with Katy’s battered old suitcase. ‘This is our new home,’ trilled Elspeth. ‘We only moved in here recently. Oh, I do hope you like it.’
Katy stared at the hallway in awe. The staircase was like something out of Dynasty, and a huge crystal chandelier hung above their heads, the droplets catching the sunlight that streamed through the stained-glass window above the door, casting rainbow colours onto the pale walls. Even Fiona couldn’t help but gawp at the interiors, exclaiming over a portrait of a man in old-fashioned dress on the wall, which Katy thought was ugly.
‘Where’s Viola? She’s desperate to meet you,’ said Elspeth, looking around with a frown on her face. Viola, that was it! Such an unusual name. ‘Oh, the naughty girl, I bet she’s out in the garden again. She’ll get her dress mucky.’