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It was a sunny day in June and the weather was warm, but Jules’ hands were shaking anyway. Even more than the usual tremor he’d acquired from the years of abuse both he and others had subjected his nervous system to. He looked at the envelope he was holding again, checking the address against the piece of paper Katie had given him two months ago.
Sadiha El-Din,
Flat 17 Astral House,
Brent Cross Road,
London EN6 6GH
He had almost set fire to it the second he’d worked out what it was, but then curiosity had got the better of him.
“How did you find her?” Jules asked Katie as she watched him tentatively.
“I was at the Chartered Institute for Structural Engineers a couple of weeks ago. They have the obituaries of engineers who died in service, it’s really nice actually – like a big old book – I can take you to see it one day, if you’d like.”
“Oh, umm, yeah – maybe.”
“Anyway, I was curious, and looked for your dad, and it mentioned who his employer was and then…” She trailed off, looking guilty.
“Just tell me, Katie.”
“I might have gone to visit them with Ron, and he, err, helped me get them to tell us who his pension was being paid to, where she lives...”
Jules sighed affectedly.
“You used magic to get some poor, probably underpaid office assistant to give you my mum’s address, probably illegally in both the Muggle and wizarding world?”
“Yes.” Katie’s response was extremely small. “I know morally it’s a grey area.”
Jules did his best impression of Hermione when Drac was trying to claim that he hadn’t drunk too much the night before.
“Okay, dark grey.”
“But why?” Jules asked, honestly baffled.
“Because you were talking not long ago about how you’d have liked Ivy to meet her and learn more about her history, and I thought I could help,” she trailed off, knitting her fingers together, and then apart again.
Jules signed. “Yeah, you’re right, I did - I was quite drunk, though…”
“Doesn’t make it any less true, maybe more true, even, given the topic,” Katie countered.
Jules opted not to respond to a probably shrewd observation.
“Have you done anything with this?” He waved the address as a diversion.
“No.”
“She doesn’t know?”
“Of course not!”
Jules relaxed “Okay. Thank you. Katie, I do appreciate the thought.”
“Will you get in touch?”
“I don’t know.”
Katie nodded in understanding, then wrapped him in a tight hug where they stayed for a while.
“Do I want to know what you promised Ron for his morally grey services? I know the chances of getting caught are amazingly slim, but still.”
“You would probably love to know,” Katie winked, “but I’ll save his blushes.”
***
Jules had lost count of the number of times he had rewritten the letter. How many times he’d convinced himself it was a terrible idea that wouldn’t achieve anything. He had written his mother off a long time ago, when his ribs were still broken from the punches and his last letter to her was still waiting for a response two months later. But Katie had been right; he had wished out loud that Ivy could know more about his side of the family, and his mum was the only one left.
He smoked another cigarette, standing by the postbox with his eyes closed until, finally, when the cigarette was almost finished, he posted the short note with his phone number and a picture of himself through the slot. Then he went home and finished the nice bottle of rum he and Drac had opened a couple of nights before, alone in his bedroom.
He’d managed to push it almost completely from his mind until his phone rang one afternoon two weeks later, as he was sat on a picnic blanket with Ivy, trying to encourage her to pass the small fluffy rabbit she was holding from one hand to the other. She could reach out for it, even close her fist on the ear, but then would inevitably drop in on her face, to her own great amusement.
“Hello, is this Mr Jules El-Din?” an official sounding lady asked when he answered.
Jules’ stomach clenched. No one with something nice to say ever used his surname.
“Hi, yes.”
“This is Claire Hudson, I’m Sadiha’s key worker. She has asked me to get in touch to see if you would be able to visit.”
“I –“ Jules started and then stopped.
That had been the point of sending the letter, to get in contact with her. But, apparently, he had not been ready for that to be a reality.
“Mr El-Din?” Claire asked as the silence stretched on. “Are you still there?”
“How is she?” Jules asked, stalling for time before he had to answer the question.
“I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to discuss residents’ details.”
Jules had looked up the address where his mother lived; it was sheltered accommodation for those who weren’t able to live a completely independent life for whatever reason, but they were supposed to be given as much of it as they could manage.
“Okay, but why are you ringing? Instead of my mum?”
“Sadiha did not feel confident enough to ring you, but she would like to see you in a safe environment.”
“Oh, right, okay, yeah. Umm… when should I come?”
“Would next Tuesday work for you?”
It was sooner than Jules had expected, but then that was probably a good thing as it gave him less time to talk himself out of it.
“Yeah,” he answered finally.
“Lovely; I will add you to the visitor list. See you then.”
Ivy cried out from her spot on the blanket – she had dropped the rabbit and it had tumbled out of reach.
“Oh, wait,” Jules said quickly, remembering the reason he had reached out to his mum in the first place. “I have a daughter, she’s five months old, Mum doesn’t know – I didn’t mention it in my letter. Would it be okay if I brought her?”
“Ah.” It was Claire’s turn to go quiet. “Yes, that will be fine, but we will need to handle it with care. Your letter has caused quite a lot of upheaval as it is.”
Jules’ heart sank even further as he wondered what was meant by upheaval.
“Could I bring my daughter’s mum as well?”
He could almost hear Claire’s lips pursing at the questions, but eventually she said, “Yes, that will be fine.”
“Thank you; see you on Tuesday.”
**
By Tuesday, Jules was regretting every step in his life that had brought him to this point. He had spent the first twenty four hours after the phone call in a haze, thinking about his mum, trying to remember things about her from when he was younger with limited success. Too many years of suppressing memories of both of his parents meant that even looking at the few pictures he had of her, he could only come up with blurred recollections and a few scattered feelings. Then the nightmares had started, more vivid than they had been in years, and now with the added twist that it wasn’t just him sitting alone in a dark room, sometimes he had Ivy with him and sometimes it was just her – crying in the dark with no one coming to help her.
It only took one time of him waking up in a cold sweat for him to stumble through the cabinet that separated him from Luna’s cottage, scoop Ivy up out of her cot and cradle her close to his chest until the sun came up a few hours later. She barely left his sight again in the days that followed and was the sole reason he untangled himself from Drac’s arms on the Tuesday morning and started to get dressed, feeling more like a man going to the gallows than a family reunion.
“You’re going to do brilliantly,” Luna told him as they stood on the balcony with fifteen minutes left before they had to leave.
Jules took another drag of his cigarette, not saying anything. He could hear Ivy screaming at Drac as he attempted to get her ready to go out the door - she always hated having her clothes changed.
“Katie’s right; Ivy does need to know more of her Muggle heritage,” Luna said.
“Why, though? She’s going to be a witch, probably. It’s not like she’s going to be interested in the fact that her great grandfather had a smallholding in bloody Borjein. I mean, fuck, I don’t bloody care about that.”
Except that his stomach knotted itself as he said it. His grandfather's place in the Lebanese countryside was the only place he could consistently remember his mum being happy; the only place she had consistently felt like a mum to him.
Luna raised an eyebrow at the lie; he’d told her exactly that barely two weeks ago, before the possibility of seeing his mum for the first time since she’d sent him away and lost contact with him altogether had become a terrifying reality. She changed tack anyway.
“Okay but, regardless of her magical abilities, she’ll want to know more about her Lebanese heritage. The Arab world has some fascinating magical practices and traditions that are very different to western ones.”
Trust Luna to believe that their infant child would inevitably follow in her own fascination with everything about magic and drive to learn about as much of it as possible.
“If you don’t take her, I will.”
Jules blinked at this declaration. Luna had her arms crossed over her chest, her wide eyes set stubborn.
“Fine,” Jules said, defeated. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
**
They Apparated to a small copse of trees a short distance from where his mum lived. Jules walked into reception, hugging Ivy to him in her carrier like a shield. They were greeted by a middle aged lady with short brown hair and a friendly smile.
“Mr El-Din?” she asked, closing the gap between them.
“Jules,” Jules said quickly, before adding “please” as an afterthought.
“Jules, I’m Claire; lovely to meet you. And who is this gorgeous little lady?”
“This is Ivy.”
Ivy looked at Claire with the round unblinking stare only a baby could manage and back to Jules, smiling. Jules introduced Luna, then they were all led through a door on the other side of reception. It was like walking through a mid-range hotel: Light, and clean, and neutrally decorated aside from some of the doors, which had been personalised by the residents who lived inside the flats.
They finally stopped outside a door with a number 17 plaque with pink flowers that Jules vaguely recognised painted in one corner.
Claire turned towards them. “If I could suggest you go in by yourself first, Jules? I understand that the reasons for you and your mum’s estrangement are, um, complicated.”
“She sent me to live in a foreign country where I didn’t speak the language or have any friends when I was twelve, and I barely saw her ever again,” Jules interrupted. “It’s not that complicated.”
He had told himself over and over again in the last few days that he wouldn’t bring it up – it wouldn’t achieve anything. But he couldn’t help himself. If his mum had been spinning some kind of story to make it less her fault then –
“I know,” Claire said, putting a soothing hand on Jules’ shoulder. “Sadiha knows too. Receiving your letter last week was a huge shock to her. She had made peace with the fact that she would never hear from you again. That it was her decisions that had led to her losing you.”
Ivy wriggled, trying to turn to look at her surroundings and something caught in Jules’ throat as her comforting weight shifted against him. He knew instantly he would never be able to make peace with anything if he thought he’d lost her forever.
He couldn’t find any words, so he nodded in understanding instead.
“So, just you?” Claire prompted.
Jules very reluctantly unclipped the fastenings of the baby carrier and handed it and Ivy over to Luna who kissed him on the cheek then stepped out of the way as Claire knocked on the door.
Jules barely had time to register how sweaty his palms had become or the fact that his heart appeared to have migrated to somewhere around his Adam's apple before the door opened.
The lady who opened it was older than Jules had expected, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, but still made it harder to process. Her hair was grey beneath a hastily thrown on head scarf, and there were lines around her eyes. She was also smaller than Jules remembered, the top of her head barely reaching his chin and her frame slight beneath loose fitting clothing. But if he was having trouble processing who she was, it seemed to be nothing in comparison to how she was doing. Her mouth hung open as both her hands went up to cover it, and her eyes swept from the top of Jules’ head to his toes and back again.
Another member of staff walked past behind Jules and he heard the door at the other end of the corridor open and shut. Finally, Jules broke the silence.
“Mama,” he said, his voice small and cracking under the pressure.
Sadiha turned and ran into another room, leaving them on the doorstep and closing the inner door behind her, but it wasn’t enough to muffle the sound of the crying that followed. Claire sighed, her lips pressed together for a moment.
“Come in and wait,” she said to Jules, then went to the closed door and gently knocked.
Jules, still shaking, wrapped his arms around himself, not sure what to do. He turned to look at Luna, who gave him an encouraging nod towards the room and closed the front door once he had stepped inside.
He could hear Claire talking softly.
“Deep breaths, that’s it. Come on, we prepared for this, didn’t we?”
There was a pause.
“Would you like to ask him to come back another day?”
Jules froze. He wasn’t sure he would be able to cope with more days like the last few.
“No? Okay. Yes, of course I can sit with you for a few minutes.”
Jules fidgeted, chewing at his nail and looking around the room he was now standing in. His mother’s home.
There was a small kitchen in one corner that didn’t look like it got much use, a small sofa and chair by the window looking out onto a courtyard, a dining table and a bookshelf. He started reading the spines of the books, skipping over most of the ones in Arabic, although he recognised the Quran sat on its own on the top shelf. Of the ones in English, there were some fiction books by authors he didn’t recognise, though if he had to guess he’d say they were action thrillers, and a few self-help books: Mindfulness for Beginners, You Will Get Through this Night, and Surviving Schizophrenia. Jules stopped at the last one as that piece of information slotted itself into some of the memories he had of his mother. It had always been something, but he had never known what. He wondered if they had back then.
“Okay, come out when you’re ready.”
Claire reappeared in the room making Jules jump.
“Sorry; I’m sure you can understand how hard this is for her.”
Jules nodded, not trusting himself to not make matters worse if he tried to point out that this wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for him either.
“She’s been doing much better recently, compared to how she was when she arrived; new medication has helped a lot, as well as more consistency with therapy and her living conditions. But something like this, well…”
“How long has she lived here?” Jules asked.
“Almost six years now.”
Six years. Jules was barely back in the UK six years ago.
“Where was she before that?”
“She was moved around a lot, which, after prolonged institutionalisation isn’t -”
Claire stopped talking suddenly, looking guilty. “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask her for details, though I must warn you it isn’t something she is comfortable talking about.”
Jules nodded again. He wouldn’t be asking.
The door on the other side of the room opened, revealing a small, neat bedroom on the other side, and his mum, who stepped out hesitantly.
“Jules?” she said in a whisper.
Just his name. Barely loud enough to hear. He had forgotten how she said his name so differently to everyone else, coloured by her mother tongue and the accent she never lost. But just that sound was enough to bring memories pouring back: her calling him downstairs in the morning to go to school, her shouting it in delight when he’d manage to do something to make her particularly happy, her saying it for the last time when she said goodbye on his aunt’s doorstep in Berlin.
Jules stood there frozen, not sure what to do, while she approached him like you might a wounded animal. When she had finally closed the gap she raised both her hands to his face, cradling it with her palms as her thumbs brushed over his cheeks, then his lip and eyebrow piercing before cupping his chin.
“You look just like him,” she said in Arabic. It had been too long since Jules had used anything other than English, and it took him a moment to translate in his head, but the sad smile she wore left no doubt about who ‘him’ was.
Her focus shifted to his arms, lifting them and turning them over to look at the tattoos and scars that covered most of his skin until she got to his dad’s name on his left forearm. She dropped it like she had been burnt and buried her face in her hands again, a single sob sneaking out.
“Mama, please,” Jules implored in English.
Sadiha looked up at him slowly over the top of her fingers, her eyes shining with tears again.
“What happened?” she asked, still in Arabic.
Jules shrugged. “Life,” he answered, refusing to switch language. He wasn’t sure if could even if he had wanted to.
“You have forgotten your Arabic,” she said it in sadness rather than reprimand, but Jules bristled regardless.
“I had to replace it with German,” he bit out.
Her eyes dropped to the floor and the tears that had so far stayed put started flowing down her face making Jules feel a twinge of regret.
“I’m sorry,” she said in English, not looking up. Her accent was as strong as it had ever been. “I had no choice. You were better off with your aunt, surely you can understand that?”
Jules wanted to understand, desperately wanted her not to be a villain in his story, but he could almost feel the scars on his back prickling. She would never know about those scars. He had never told her about her sister’s boyfriend in the scant letters he wrote before they lost contact, and he wouldn’t now. Her guilt wouldn’t make them go away. And he hadn’t come here to pick a fight. He hadn’t come here for himself at all. Or her.
“This is new,” Jules said, forcing his tongue around the language he hadn’t spoken in almost a decade. He brushed the edge of the headscarf that covered his mum’s hair. “When did you become religious?”
“It brings me peace,” Sadiha said.
She took Jules’ arm in her hand again, turning it to look closer at the Arabic script.
“I like this one.” Then she picked up his right arm.
“This one, not so much.” She pointed at the tattoo of a fifties pinup girl Katie had named Betty.
Jules smirked despite himself. “I suppose it goes against His teachings,” he said, raising his eyes to the sky. Neither of his parents had been the slightest bit religious when he was young, but he knew enough about Islam from other relatives and people he had met over the years.
“I suppose she is objectively pretty, but she certainly needs more clothes on,” she paused briefly before carrying on. “You know, Eli always wanted a tattoo, but back in those days it just wasn’t the thing.”
They lapsed back into silence as Jules took a moment to process this new piece of information about his dad, and stayed quiet for a while. Sadiha had never been much of a talker, Jules remembered then. He had inherited more than just his looks from his dad. He remembered how he would often find her lost in her own world when he would get back from school. Sometimes she would surface and ask him about his day, but not always. Now they had even less to talk about.
He looked over to Claire who had been watching from a distance, and then over to the front door where Luna and Ivy were still waiting on the other side. Claire nodded.
“Sadiha,” she said, gently putting one hand on her shoulder. “I just need to go and get something, will you be okay for a minute?”
“Mama, there’s something I –” Jules started as Claire left, but suddenly it was too hard in a language he barely spoke.
“There’s actually a reason I found you now,” he said, switching back to English.
He lifted his hand to chew at his cuticle, but his mum put her own up to stop him, just like she always had to his dad when he was stressed. The mental image of the simple gesture between his parents sprang uninvited into his mind, the way that his dad would catch her hand and place a kiss on it with a small bow – it was one of the few things that would always make her smile. Jules swallowed hard. He had forgotten those moments over the years, shut them out because remembering them had been too painful. He wondered, suddenly, what else he had forgotten, what else he might be reminded of.
His heartbeat, which had calmed somewhat with the stilted conversation, found new energy, thumping almost painfully in his chest. He shouldn’t have come. He needed to leave now. But as he started to turn, he heard Ivy babbling as the others approached.
“Can we come in?” Luna called through the door.
“There’s someone that I want you to meet,” he explained to his mum quickly, who was looking confused and scared. “It’s okay. They’re okay, you’re safe. Claire is with them, you know Claire.”
The words came out without any direction from his brain. He wasn’t sure why he was saying them, except that suddenly he was. He shut down the memory of having to give her similar reassurances when neighbours would sometimes call at the house. He’d had enough of the past for one day.
She stepped behind him, making herself as small as possible as he called out, “Hi, yeah, come in.”
Jules met Luna halfway across the room as Claire quickly went to Sadiha’s side to reassure her. He took Ivy into his arms, gave her a brief cuddle and enjoyed the instant peace it provided him in the chaos of his mind, and then went back to his mum.
“Mama, this is Ivy. Ivy,” Jules wiggled his fingers in front of his daughter to get her attention and pointed at his mum. “This is my Mama, your grandmother.”
“Oh.” Was all Sadiha managed before she sat down heavily in the armchair behind her, visibly shaking.
Jules looked uncertainly at Claire, who gave him a reassuring nod, then knelt down next to his mum so she could still see Ivy.
“She’s…” Sadiha started, fighting the urge to cry again. “She’s beautiful.”
Jules looked down at his daughter. “Yeah, yeah, she is.”
His mum reached out a trembling finger to stroke Ivy’s cheek, who reached out to grab it in her small fist.
“Oh,” she said again, smiling despite losing the battle against her tears, which were now rolling silently down her cheeks.
She looked back up at Jules and her smile dissolved, a choked sob catching in her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, in Arabic. “I’m sorry.”
She threw her arms around him, just about avoiding Ivy, and buried her head in his shoulder, repeating the apology again and again. Jules stayed rooted to the spot, in an awkward crouch, not sure what to do. He gingerly wrapped his free arm around her. He wasn’t ready to accept her apology. He wasn’t sure he ever would be.
He took a deep breath, realising that she still smelt the same as she had when he was young, and just about managing not to drown with it.
“I know,” he said. Then he pulled away just as Luna stepped in to take Ivy.
“Mama,” Jules said, moving slightly back from both of them, still holding his daughter; he wasn’t about to give up the only thread holding him together in that moment. “This is Luna; she is Ivy’s mum.”
“Hello,” Luna said softly.
Sadiha wiped at her eyes then turned her gaze on Luna, giving her a wobbly smile.
“She has your eyes,” Sadiha said, looking between Luna and Ivy. “But not the colour. And your nose.”
“That’s true,” Luna said, “but I think she mostly looks like Jules. It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you,” Sadiha said. “How long have you been with my son?”
Jules froze, gritting his teeth but, Luna being Luna, took it in her stride.
“Oh, we’re not together. We’re friends.”
Sadiha’s face dropped, but Luna kept talking.
“But that’s not important. What’s important is that we both love Ivy equally, and unequivocally.” Her voice became pointed. “And we will both do everything we have to, to make sure she grows up safe and happy, and knowing she is loved for as long as we both live.”
Sadiha looked at her feet and then back up again, her uncertain smile back in place but now looking slightly forced as she nodded in acknowledgement of the reproach Luna had not tried particularly hard to hide.
“Jules,” Luna said to him, returning to her normal airy ways. “Perhaps you’d like to let Ivy give her grandmother a cuddle?”
“Oh, yeah, okay… here you go.”
He did his best to ignore the voices screaming at him not to do it, reminding himself that while she had been the cause, she had not been the actual perpetrator, and carefully handed his daughter over to his mum.
Sadiha stiffened, like she hadn’t expected to be granted such intimacy and accepted her granddaughter with the caution of someone being handed a scroll thought lost to the ages that might disintegrate on contact. Ivy who was used to being handed around adults like a bong between teenagers, was largely unperturbed by the switch. She looked at Sadiha, then at her dad, and then back at Sadiha until finally she settled into the crook of her arm, content that her new resting spot was just as comfortable.
Jules worried that his mum was about to cry again as Sadiha looked up at the ceiling blinking rapidly. She took several steadying breaths then finally looked down at her granddaughter.
“Hello,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m your Teta.”
Ivy grinned, showing off the one tooth that had started to poke through.
“I think she likes you,” Luna commented. “Does Teta mean grandmother?”
“In Arabic, yes,” Jules answered. He wasn’t sure his mum had heard her.
“Perhaps everyone would like to take a seat?” Claire said, from her spot at the side of the room where she had been hovering. “I could make some tea.”
“Tea would be lovely, thank you.”
They sat in silence while Claire made tea; and even after she had handed everyone a mug and gone back to standing discreetly to the side. Sadiha, having got over her initial emotions, was completely entranced by Ivy – who was now tugging at the headscarf which had fallen to her shoulders. Sadiha draped the fabric over Ivy’s face, making a funny face when she pulled it away again, her grin growing wider with each one of Ivy’s delighted giggles.
Jules wondered if she had ever been the same with him. He reasoned with himself that he wouldn’t remember it anyway - he’d have been too young. But even though he was happy that they were clearly smitten with each other, that the last half hour had gone about as well as he could ever have hoped for, he had not been ready for how hard it would be. He closed his eyes, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa and taking several deep breaths. A few minutes later, he was brought back to the room by Luna pressing her hand into his thigh until his leg stopped jumping and the pressure was enough to ground him somewhat, and he could climb out of his downward spiral.
“Thanks,” he said under his breath.
“You’re doing brilliantly.”
His mum hadn’t noticed the momentary lapse; she was now telling Ivy how beautiful she was in Arabic while Ivy pulled on her nose. Claire had, though. She handed Jules another cup of tea, this time with added sugar.
“Sadiha,” she started conversationally, “it’s going to be lunch time soon, and you have not yet been for your morning walk. I think it might be time to say goodbye.”
Jules’ mum looked up, crestfallen.
“Maybe you could join me? I just go for a short walk around the park opposite.” she asked Jules and Luna, looking hopeful.
“I’m sorry, we need to get Ivy back for her nap – she never sleeps on public transport,” Luna said quickly.
“And you know that Carlton needs to know about any guests in advance so that he can cook the right number of meals,” Claire added. If Jules hadn’t been sure whether she had been giving him an out before, the glance she gave him now confirmed it.
“I suppose you're right. I… It was lovely to meet you, Ivy.” She gave her one final squeeze as they all stood up and handed her back to Jules, who held her as close as he could, the smell of her bringing his heartbeat back to somewhere near normal again.
He steeled himself before answering. “She loved meeting you as well. Maybe next time we can stay a bit longer.”
Sadiha’s face lit up.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He continued, nuzzling his nose against Ivy’s so he didn’t have to look at his mum too much. “Maybe we can bring some of your toys as well? You could introduce Teta to Funny Bunny!”
“That would be lovely,” Claire said. “I’ll give you Sadiha’s number so you can arrange a date.”
“Okay, yeah, maybe next month?” He hedged, not wanting to commit to anything too soon. “Come along then, Ivy. We should get you back.”
He took the carrier from Luna and strapped Ivy in, then took her hands and waved to Sadiha. “Bye Teta!”
She stepped forwards and reached out, but not to Ivy as he expected. Instead, she raised her hand to his cheek, stroking it with her thumb, tears welling in her eyes again.
“He’d be so proud of you.”
Jules nodded. There was nothing to say, but his heart lightened a little at hearing it. He might never truly understand why, but his dad had always loved his mum. And maybe that was enough. He might never be able to forgive her for abandoning him, but maybe in his dad’s memory, with Ivy’s help, he could be more than a stranger to her again.