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Listeners' Fantasies |
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Matt discovers the truth
by Misty
 from the Fantasy Archers topic of .
Matt took an extra long gulp of whisky.
"You're 'aving me on!" he exclaimed.
The extremely old lady (herinafter referred to as the EOL) shook her head and grinned.
"It's as true as I'm sittin' 'ere!" she replied.
Matt leaned back in his seat. He was beginning to wish he hadn't come to Peckham, and especially not into this pub. The visit to the local Social Services office had confirmed that his birth had been registered there, but there was no record of his having been adopted. He half-wondered if he was a figment of his own imagination.
"So you're sayin'", he began, "that you knew my mother?"
"Yes ~ like I told you!" said EOL, downing another pint of ale and wiping the froth from her upper lip. "Same again, please!"
Matt made his way to the bar to procure more ale for the lady, and thought that he may as well join her.
"So ~ she was a local teenager who couldn't keep her baby but didn't want to get it adopted ~ so what did she do with it ~ er ~ me?" asked Matt, cautiously trying his ale.
EOL laughed heartily. "She got a large wicker basket and covered it with tar to make it water-tight. When the tar was dry she made the basket comfortable & put in a coupla extra nappies, then put you in it!"
Matt found that he was gulping hard at his ale.
"But then what happened?! he exclaimed.
"Well, early one morning the girl got up, took you in the basket, and floated it on the Thames." replied EOL, finishing her latest glass of ale and holding it up again.
Matt quickly finished his own drink and took both glasses back to the bar for re-fills.
"What happened to the basket?" he heard himself asking, "I mean, what happened to the baby in it? He must have been OK cos I'm 'ere now!"
"Well, the basket floated for quite a way along the Thames," replied EOL, "and was discovered by a rather posh lady who was out walking her dog. The lady took you home and decided to keep you. Don't you remember her?"
"I remember her as being posh", said Matt. "Wasn't she a lady-in-waiting to royalty?" I always felt a bit out of place amongst that lot ... got sent to a posh school an' all that ... went to all sorts of grand places with them all ~ but it wasn't *me* yer see, so I left as soon as I was 17 and made my own way in the world!"
"I knew her well," mused the EOL. I'm sure she'd love to see you again!" She held up the latest glass for refilling.
Matt could take no more. He bade farewell to the EOL and made his way unsteadily into the street. He thought again of his adopted mother and of her beautiful and kindly boss, who had often invited him to play with her own two children.
He hiccupped his way to the nearest Tube station and decided there and then that he would not be telling any of it to Lilian. What if the whole Archer family found out? This must remain his own little secret, plus the fact that his original first name had, in fact, been Moses. That must definitely remain Top Secret for ever.
***
Matt, his head spinning (literally, it seemed to him) realised to his shame that he couldn't remember the way to the nearest Tube in Peckham. Maybe there wasn't one?
Looking around furtively, he took his copy of London mini A-Z from his inside pocket and scanned it quickly. What would it do to his credibility, he wondered hazily, if he didn't know his way around his own manor?
He discovered that there was a Peckham Rye station, but did it go underground? This suddenly seemed very important to Matt. Finding he was on Choumert Grove, he tried to navigate himself to the station. But after wandering through Choumert Road, Choumert Mews and Choumert Square he began to feel rather discouraged.
"Lorst are we?" came a voice at his elbow. Matt turned suddenly, almost losing his balance. There stood the Extremely Old Lady from the pub, grinning at him. (No, not toothlessly ~ Matt noticed that she had particularly good teeth).
"Yeah, well ~ it 'appens ..." said Matt, trying to cover his embarrassment. Then a thought occurred to him.
"'Ow come you knew my adoptive muvver AND my real one?" he managed to ask.
"Easy!" replied the EOL, "the adoptive muvver is my sista, and your real one? My grand-daughta!"
Matt felt worse than ever. Perhaps it had been a mistake to mix whisky with Brown Ale. But he needed to know more.
"Well, how're they both doing, now?" he croaked. "And wot abaht my real actual dad?"
"Your real mother did very well for herself, as it 'appens!" replied EOL. "She's now a consultant surgeon at one of the London hospitals. And as for your real actual dad ~ he went into politics and is now very well-known!"
Matt gulped and staggered at this news. EOL reached out a hand to steady him.
"And-and-and ~ my adoptive ma?" he quavered, almost afraid to enquire further.
EOL smiled. "Oh, she's retired now, but doing very nicely. Here's her address if you'd like to get in touch with 'er ~ which I hope you will, she's never forgotten yer!"
Matt took the card in quivering fingers and briefly scanned the address. "Gordon Bennet", he thought. But he pocketed the card for future reference.
EOL had thoughtfully called a taxi for him, for which Matt was very grateful; parts of him, particularly his legs, seemed to be functioning less and less as time went on.
As he leaned back comfortably on the back-seat of the taxi, Matt reflected on his findings, and determined more than ever that none of it should ever be made known in Ambridge!
***
Matt emerged nervously from the Gents' and walked slowly down the corridor leading to the Social Worker's office.
He was annoyed with himself for being nervous ~ what was there to be nervous about, for goodness sake? He already knew quite a bit about his birth mother following his trip to Peckham, and just wanted the social worker to confirm the details. He hoped that the Extremely Old Lady in the pub hadn't been telling him a load of porkies.
Noting that he was exactly on time for his appointment, Matt drew a deep breath, knocked firmly on the door, and walked in. The social worker rose to meet him and shook him firmly by the hand and touched his arm, ushering him to a seat.
Matt thought she was being a bit over-friendly ~ not that he was complaining, he thought to himself, she was quite young and attractive.
"Well, love," he began, "I already found out quite a bit about my birf muvver, but I'd like you to confirm the details which I'll just give to you ..." Matt reached into his briefcase to find the papers.
"Matt Crawford," said the social worker, slowly, as though savouring the words.
"Gordon Bennett", thought Matt, "we've got a right one here." "Are you OK love?" he enquired.
"I've never felt better!" she replied, with shining eyes. Matt sighed deeply.
"Well I'm very pleased for you, love," he said. "But let's just get on wiv the details of my birf muvver!"
The social worker stood up and walked around the desk. "Let's forget about your birth mother, Matt," she said, urgently. "Whilst I was doing my research I discovered something much more important!"
"Huh?" exclaimed Matt. "I already know about my muvver being a retired royal lady-in-waiting, I just wanted you to confirm that the details are correct."
"That's all correct, Matt", replied the social worker. (Matt became slightly irritated by the way she kept using his first name.) "It's also correct about you being found floating down the Thames in a basket. That is so cute ..."
"Alright then!" said Matt, getting to his feet. "If that's all, I'd better be on my way. I'm just glad you hadn't got any shocks in store for me! But ~ what was the other thing you said you'd discovered?"
The social worker came and took both his hands in hers. She smiled broadly. "I've been longing to meet you!" she said, "I'm your daughter, and you've got three grandchildren!!!"
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