Rag Doll Ch. 08.1 - Sherry Baby

"Read it, baby, find out what's going on here," I murmured, sliding the sealed envelope across to her. Sherry tore her rapt gaze away from the photograph and reluctantly tore open the sealed envelope. Two pages of handwritten paper in a firm, masculine hand, were inside. Sherry picked up the letter and began to read.

"Cherie,

My name is James Blake Morrison, and first of all, let me apologise for contacting you this way; until we saw you on television we, your family, had no notion of where you were, or even what your name was now, nor did we even know how to begin tracking you down.

"Your mother, Rosalie, was my baby sister, our Rosa-girl. I was still a student when she married your father, Sidney Young. She was only 17 when she married Sidney, and not even 18 when you were born. After he absconded, you and your mother went to stay with your newlywed half-sister: Sidney's daughter from his first marriage; I was still just a student when Rosa-girl passed away. My other younger sister was in no position to be able to look after you, neither were my parents, your grandparents, so my mother and your sister agreed that, because you were so young, only four months or thereabouts, the best and safest place for you was with her, as part of her family, and so that was what happened.

"I should tell you that it was your sister who first suggested this solution; she was in no doubt that she wanted you from the outset, my mother often commented on how much she loved you, like you were her own daughter from the very beginning, and looking after you, bringing you up as her own daughter was all she wanted.

"My mother kept in close contact with your sister, since she and my father didn't want to lose track of their only granddaughter, but my mother passed away unexpectedly just a short while later, as did my father, and with their loss also came the loss of our only link and connection with you; I lost three of the closest, most important people in my life one after the other, and with their loss I lost my only link with you. I never knew your step-sister's name, my mother never really had time to settle that part of our family before she passed away, and with Dad following her so soon after, just a matter of weeks, we lost all trace of you, and I didn't know where to start looking for you.

"My father never got over the loss of your mother; Rosa was the apple of his eye, his baby girl and my perfect little sister, a fun, smart, mischievous, happy girl, and when we lost her, a bright light went out of our lives. I believed then, and I believe now that his loss of Rosa, followed so closely by the death of my mother, is what hastened my father's own passing. I tried to find you, I searched, if I had found you, I would have tried to be the family you needed; you were my own family, my baby sister's baby. But you were a minor child, and I was a single man, still only a student. The authorities never allowed me access to any information as to where you were or how you were. I didn't even know if you were going by your sister's name, nor did I know what her name was; Mum never shared it with me, she never had time to, and Social Services would never divulge that to me.

"The enclosed photographs are of Barbara, Rosa-Girl, and me with our parents, and your grandparents in our home in South London. Barbara was training to be a kindergarten teacher when she married and moved away, you would have been perhaps two at the time, and we've heard nothing of her since; as far as I know, apart from my children and now my grandchildren, you are the only family I have left, and all I have left of my dear, sweet, funny, cheeky baby sister.

"I have to say, when I saw you on the BBC News I was astonished at your resemblance to your mother, to how I remember your mother, how Rosa held her head, her voice, her smile; in a thousand ways you are your mother's daughter, and I'm so glad there's so much of her still here in you.

"My home telephone number is appended below. It would please my family and me greatly to at least speak with you and reassure myself that indeed my little sister's daughter is well and happy, so, if or when you are ready, I would deeply appreciate you making that call and giving me a lasting reminder that something of my Rosa-girl is still here. I would treasure that moment, no matter how brief or fleeting, believe me.

With all my heartfelt best wishes,

James Morrison"

Sherry looked at me, her sooty lashes framing her big, beautiful eyes; normally they were so big and bright, now they were wells of sorrow, tears spilling unheeded down her cheeks as her lip trembled and a soft sob escaped her as she looked at the handful of photographs: three children posing together, a sandy-haired, blue-eyed little boy, a little blonde girl, and in the arms of her mother, a toddler with jet-black hair and a strong resemblance to her mother. There were more photos: the children growing older, the two girls now preteens, but still gazing adoringly at their older brother, and finally, the brother, now a handsome young man with arresting blue eyes, the blonde, grey-eyed girl with more than a hint of the teenage beauty she was going to be, and again the pretty black-haired girl with her devil-may-care dimpled grin just like how I remember Sherry, and her bright blue eyes, just like her brother.

Sherry stared fixedly at the photos, obviously comparing the children, seeing their likenesses and differences, but when I went to take them from her she tightened her grip on them.

"My family, Danny... look, it's my family, there's my mother, look... I mean look, I look just like her, Danny, look at this," she murmured distractedly, scanning the photographs with laser-beam intensity. When she looked at me, her eyes were lambent, a more intense blue than I'd ever seen; she finally had all the pieces of her jigsaw puzzle, the other side of her family, but the need to know, to put them all together was burning there too. She didn't need to say anything to me. I already knew where this was going; this was what my Sherry-Baby wanted, what she needed, I'll be damned if I wasn't going to help her get it.

"Give them a call, baby; let's go check this out. This is something you need to do. You know I'm right." I said, and her eyes crinkled in gratitude. "You need to know, and so do they."

Sherry kissed me once, gratefully, and I gathered up the scattered papers and photographs and put them back in the folder, then slipped it back into the envelope.

"Let's finish our dinner, then we'll go home and talk some more, eh?"

Sherry nodded gratefully and we resumed our meal, this time in silence; we both had too much to think about, although I had less than her. However this turned out, she was still going to be my girl, we were still going to be together, and nothing was going to change between us.

*****

Morning found us exhausted from lack of sleep, but finally decided on what we were going to do. Sherry was calm now, but she'd been an emotional mess most of the night. She'd known since we were teenagers that she wasn't really Mum's daughter, that her birth-mother had been killed in an accident, but emotionally, that was another story altogether; my Mother was her half-sister, but really she was her mum, too: the only mother she'd ever known. That was how she knew and loved her. Rosa was a dim figure from a past they'd never shared, and now these people were coming into her life and telling her she was part of them too, because Rosa was part of them, was raking all that up and turning her life on its head.

Sherry had cried for Mum a large part of the night, and I'd held her while she shook and cried, fearful that her mum, my mother, was somehow going to be taken away from her, that she'd never really been hers at all. Irrational, I know, but that was what her heart was feeling, and I got that. Now the morning had come, and we knew what we had to do.

I handed her the phone.

"Call him, baby, you need to know," I said. She took the phone from me like it was red-hot, and dialled the number. Tried to, I should say, she was so nervous she fumbled it several times, until I took it from her and dialled. The number rang several times, and a girl answered.

"Hello, Morrison residence, may I help you?"

I flicked the phone to 'speaker' and nodded at Cherie.

"H...Hello, may I please speak with Mister James Morrison?" stammered Cherie.

"He's not here at the moment," said the girl." Who shall I say called?"

"Mm... my name is Cherie Young, Mister Morrison wrote to me, he sent me some photographs... " stammered Shery, obviously still spooked and skittish.

There was a pause, and then the girl fairly erupted.

"OH MY GOD! You're the girl on TV. Sherry, my dad saw you and nearly had a heart attack. You're his sister's daughter, oh my God! Daddy's not here, he had to go into work for something, but my mum's here, I think she'd like to speak to you, if you don't mind? Please? Oh my God, he'll be so happy you called, he was so hoping for this!"

Sherry froze, suddenly tangled-up in this girl's enthusiasm, her Uncle James' daughter, so I guess that made her and Sherry first-cousins, the first family she'd ever encountered apart from me. The phone went silent, or the girl put it down, and the vague sound of voices told me she was telling her mother that Sherry was on the phone. A new voice came on the line, older, softer and more measured.

"Hello? This James Morrison wife. You just speak to my daughter, Nia. My husband not here right now, I speak to you if you not mind? My husband have to go to work this morning. He be back soon. Can he call you when he come back? He be so pleased that you have called here, he been waiting for you for so long, his sisters so dear to him, he lose his baby sisters and it like a piece of him been taken away as well! You talk to him, please? It make him so happy, I promise you!"

There was something lulling, relaxing, almost hypnotic in the way this obviously foreign lady spoke. I had heard her soft accent and almost musical speech patterns before, in my dojo, in London. My Sabun, my sensei was from Laos, and she'd sounded just like this lady.

Sherry looked helplessly at me, so I shrugged and gestured to her to keep talking.

"Can you...please...do you...did you know my...my mother?" she faltered, and I heard the motherly, reassuring tone tinged with a hint of sadness as the woman spoke with her.

"So sorry, never meet Rosa. She married, gone before I meet James. I come visit here many time with my sister Laura. She meet James at university, she marry James, have little boy; never meet Rosa, only other sister, Barbara. When my sister... when she die, she give me her little boy to be my son, I marry your uncle James and have daughter, Nia, your cousin. We are your family, you are missing part of this family. It is a good thing that you find your way back, this family not complete as long as you not here. My husband need to speak with you, hear your voice, know you are real and you are safe, that is all, please help him."

I watched Sherry visibly relax as this calm, motherly woman's soothing voice washed over her, easing her fears and calming her jitters. I was actually astonished at how positively Sherry was responding to her, as if she'd known her all her life; James Morrison had married a very special lady, I could tell. Her effect on Sherry was really quite remarkable. She had the kind of empathy most doctors, teachers, and counsellors wished they had, and sadly, so many didn't and never would. I could feel myself falling under her spell.

"Yes...yes, I would like Ja...my uncle to call me, please ask him to call me when he can, I'd like to hear his voice too. I read his letter to me, saw the photos he sent, I'm so...touched to know he's never forgotten me..." said Sherry, smiling even as two big tears ran down her cheeks. I was so proud to hear her say that. It couldn't have been easy for her to accept all this, but that inner core of strength I knew so well did her proud that morning.

"I will tell him, he will be proud his sister little girl want to know him. It will ease pain in his heart, thank you."

Sherry ended the call and gazed at me, her cheeks wet but her mouth set and resolute.

"Tell me this is not a mistake, Danny, that I did the right thing..." she murmured, and I smiled at her, letting my pride in her, and my agreement with her actions show. She was doing the right thing, I felt that most strongly.

"It's just, well, Mum and stuff. She was always my mum, she was all the family I needed, her and dad, you don't think...you don't think she'd mind, do you, baby?" he whispered, and I gathered her in and hugged her.

"Mum loved you, baby. She never made a difference between you and me, and all she ever wanted was for you to be as happy as you could be. Even after she told us about your birth-mother nothing changed for her, you know that. Yes, she was your big sister, but the reality was that she was your mum first, and sister a very distant second. She loved you like a daughter because you were her daughter, nothing else. Mum was always your mum no matter what, absolutely nothing was going to change that, so no, I don't think she'd mind. She loved you, Cherie Young, remember that; she still does, you're her daughter and she'd want you to know who you are, where you're from, but most of all, that you're still, and always will be, her daughter, her "Sherry Baby." That hasn't changed at all."

"Thank you Danny," she whispered into my neck, "you always know how to say exactly the right thing."

With such an intense backwash of emotions swirling around us, we were both physically wiped out; I never knew one conversation could be such a strain. It didn't take much urging on my part to entice Sherry back into bed, we were both mentally drained by the dread and anticipation of what the afternoon might bring, and we both fell asleep almost as soon as our heads hit the pillows, no hanky-panky, we were far too emotionally tangled-up for that.

*

My alarm beeping woke us, feeling, if not refreshed, at least calm and rested enough to wait and see what would happen. Sherry was enjoying her lie-in, her cheeky grin when she rolled all the covers around herself in a warm cocoon told me who was making the tea, and so we passed the morning in warm companionship, cuddling in bed and speculating, but not brooding, on what the afternoon and her talk with James Morrison would bring. When the phone finally rang Sherry had no hesitation in answering it, once again switching it to speaker mode.

"Hello, am I speaking to Cherie Young?" asked a pleasant male voice.

"This is she. Good morning sir, I understand you've been looking for me," Sherry began, but the man on the other end of the phone interrupted her.

"Please, Cherie, don't be so formal; you can call me Uncle James, or just James; your mother is my little sister, I lost her a long time ago, and you're all I have left of her, so please, you don't Sir me and I won't Miss Young you, is that okay with you?"

I could hear the smile in his voice, and Sherry grinned at his gentle humour.

"Of course, and thank you for taking the trouble to contact me. I'm very glad to have this opportunity to speak with you. When I got your package last night I was more than a little shocked at what it contained. I didn't know I had any family. As far as I knew my entire family was just my boyfriend Danny and I, and to suddenly discover I had an aunt and uncle, and then to actually speak with your wife and daughter, it was more than stunning, I didn't know..."

James chuckled, a warm, friendly sound.

"Believe me, when I saw you on the television I was absolutely stopped in my tracks. Your mother, my little sister, Rosalie, although everyone called her 'Rosa-Girl', was the spitting image of you; even the way you speak and your voice, all 100% Rosa, it's absolutely amazing. I still can't believe it! Your mother looked like my mother, same hair, same smile, my dad's eyes, to see them all again in you were truly amazing. When you come and visit us, and I hope that will be soon, you'll be able to see for yourself."

Sherry glanced over at me and for a second I saw hesitation, but she ploughed on regardless.

"Uncle James, can I ask you one thing? If you don't mind me asking, what happened, how did you lose touch with Mum?" asked Sherry.

James sighed, obviously reluctant to pull up painful memories.

"When we lost Rosa I was still just a student. My other sister, your aunt Barbara, was even younger, and my mother was too frail to look after a newborn. The shock of losing Rosa like that was still so strong, so she and your sister agreed that her looking after you would be the best and safest place for you; Mum passing so suddenly cut that link. I didn't know your sister, or where she lived, I didn't even know her name, and I trusted Mum to keep that information safe and keep our family connected with your sister and you, and then..."

His voiced sounded troubled, sad.

"I tried, but Dad was still so lost. He'd lost Rosa, and less than a month later Mum too. He was in no shape to help me, and the strain, everything, it caused a massive heart attack. Dad died without ever telling me what I needed to know: where my baby sister's baby was. I tried to find you, you were our Sherry-baby- " Sherry started at that, -"but I hit a brick wall with Social Services. I'm sorry, Cherie, I tried, but I was only twenty years old, single, a student, and your sister, my mum, and social services had already formalised your care arrangements."

He paused, framing what he was going to say next.

"They wouldn't tell me where you were, Cherie, or who you were with, only that you had been placed in care, and that your sister was your legal guardian. Please understand, you're my niece but I wasn't your guardian. I had no legal claim to you, I wasn't even your next of kin, that was your sister, and her identity was protected by confidentiality and child protection laws. I didn't know where she lived, only that Rosa was killed in that car accident in Lewisham, but I couldn't begin to look there, or if that was even where she lived, because I didn't know your sister's name..."

His voice cracked with the strain of holding back his emotions.

"We looked for you, Cherie, Barbara and me. We looked high and low for you, we pestered anyone we thought knew your sister or her family, we harassed Social Services, we petitioned the courts, my girlfriend and I even talked about getting married just so we could petition the court for us to adopt you, but nothing doing. You were a minor child, legally placed in care, and we were both single; we had no legal right to know where you were, who you were with, or even whether we could get you back. The answer was always the same: we were not your legal next of kin, so we had no right to know, and no amount of legal manoeuvring or trickery was going to change that; the matter was closed. I'm so sorry, we tried..."

Sherry stared at me, stricken, her emotions obviously running high at the story she'd just heard, how her family had been searching for her, and the fact social services had always known where she was, but had never passed on the information, either to her or Mum, that she had a whole other family who'd been trying to find her and had been butting their heads against wall after wall. She visibly calmed herself, and when she spoke her voice was almost normal.

"You called me Sherry-Baby... how did you know... " she began, and James sighed, before giving a half-hearted chuckle, just as obviously glad to be changing tracks.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be over-familiar or anything, it just slipped out; Sherry-baby was your grandmother's name for you, it's the title of an old pop song, she used to sing it to you, with a name like 'Cherie' it was inevitable, I suppose; in my mind you've always been Sherry-baby. That's how Barbara and I knew and referred to you, please don't be offended, it was unintentional."