Not My Daughter

by Suzy K Quinn

  As Diane reaches the gate, her head flicks up. ‘Hello, Lorna.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have done it, Diane.’ I know my eyes are wild and crazy. ‘I told myself a bunch of lies about Michael. I was such an idiot and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just want her back. Give my daughter back and I swear to God I’ll leave you both alone.’

  ‘She’s come to see her father. The man you stole from her life.’

  ‘Please. Don’t let him take her away from me. I love her.’

  ‘You’re not capable of loving anyone.’ Diane’s voice is cold. ‘All you do is tell lies and make a mess. Try to break up happy marriages. Hide an innocent child from her own father. Thank God Liberty had some sense about her and wanted to find out the truth for herself. I can’t imagine the courage it must have taken her to come here. After all the evil stories you must have poured into her.’

  Liberty’s name feels like a bullet in my stomach.

  I grit my teeth. ‘Michael’s the one who tells lies, Diane. Open your eyes.’

  ‘Don’t start that again.’ Diane’s voice rises to a shout. ‘Don’t you dare. After everything you’ve done to him, to try and blacken his name—’

  ‘I didn’t try to blacken his name. How can you not know what he is?’

  ‘Michael isn’t perfect. But he’s a kind, loving husband. I’ve known him since I was a child. He’s always done right by me—’

  ‘Even when he was sleeping with me?’

  Diane’s face tightens. ‘You bitch. You cheap groupie bitch. Throwing yourself at married men.’

  ‘I never threw myself at him,’ I say. ‘He pulled up outside my apartment in a tour bus and whisked me away with him.’

  ‘These are stories, Lorna. Your fairy stories.’

  ‘And he told me you two were separated. And that you were too weak and pathetic to deal with a divorce. You want to know what else he said?’

  Diane’s eyes burn on mine. ‘Go ahead, Lorna. Give it your best shot.’

  ‘He said you married too young. That you were just a teenage infatuation, someone who played hard to get and wouldn’t have sex unless you were married. He said I was the real thing. True love. The best sex he ever had. And he said he couldn’t divorce you because you’d kill yourself. That’s what he said.’

  ‘You should be ashamed of yourself,’ says Diane. ‘They save the hottest part of hell for women like you.’

  ‘Do you think I’d have been with Michael if I hadn’t thought you were separated?’

  ‘Yes,’ says Diane. ‘That’s exactly what I think. I think you were obsessed with my husband and looking to get him any way you could. Listen, I know you were ill. That your mind isn’t quite right. That you were looking for a happily ever after.’

  ‘Of course that’s what you think,’ I say. ‘You want to believe the Michael fairy tale, just like I did. The truth is too painful. But were you there? Were you in the bedroom with us when he told me I was his one and all?’

  ‘Get the hell off of our property,’ says Diane. ‘You’re a bitter, twisted, jealous groupie who tried to get my husband put in jail. Honest to God, look at you with all those tattoos. What are you … a Hells Angel or something?’

  ‘No, I’ve done my time in hell,’ I say. ‘When I lived here.’

  ‘You never lived here, Lorna. That’s another of your many fantasies. And you don’t care about Liberty. You’re here because you’ve lost power over her. Have the decency to go home and let Liberty get to know her father.’

  Diane whisks around and totters back towards the house.

  ‘GIVE ME MY DAUGHTER,’ I scream. ‘GIVE HER BACK TO ME.’

  Diane doesn’t turn around.

  ‘YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID TO THOSE GIRLS. YOU MUST KNOW.’

  Diane stumbles and catches herself on a tree. But then she carries on walking.

  Once upon a time …

  When the European tour finished, Michael and I drove through the English countryside in a rented limousine. I remember green fields, yellow autumn corn, red leaves on trees.

  ‘This house will be spectacular when it’s all done,’ said Michael. ‘A real king’s castle. I’m having them build turrets and all sorts. You’ll have your own tower, like a princess.’

  Michael drank vigorously from the limousine bar during that drive – straight whiskey. I joined in the rock and roll party by having a rum and Coke. It wasn’t even lunchtime, but we were rock stars. It was fun. Exciting. That’s who we were and what we did.

  Michael and I were getting along a little better since the tour ended. He seemed to want a lot of sex all of a sudden, and I was desperate to be with him.

  I wore leopard-print leggings, a red vest held together by safety pins and spiked-up hair. Sexy punk rock chick, just like Michael wanted. And I was skinny, like he wanted too. Skinnier than I’d ever been thanks to his comments about my weight.

  Michael dressed all in black.

  I remember joking about bed linen and hanging pictures, because of course I wasn’t that kind of girl – the home-making kind. That’s what a wife would do. What Diane had done. But I was too cool for all of that.

  I also remember asking if I could call my sister when we reached the house.

  ‘What do you want to call her for?’ Michael asked. ‘You have me now.’

  ‘Just to tell her I’m okay. Dee worries about me. Especially since the cancer—’

  ‘Well, she shouldn’t. I’m taking care of you now. She should stop interfering in your life, Lorna. It’s not normal.’

  ‘She doesn’t interfere. I’ve only called her once since I came away with you, and Dee can’t call me. She’s my sister, Michael.’

  ‘Are you a grown-up or a little girl? We’re in a real adult relationship here. Or are you still a child, needing a mammy to look after you. Which is it?’

  ‘I’m a grown-up.’

  ‘So what do you need to call your sister for? You know she’s crazy jealous, don’t you? I don’t want you having anything to do with her. She’s toxic.’

  ‘She’s my sister, Michael. She’s been there for me my whole life. She worries—’

  ‘Can you stop going on about this, Lorna? The phone line isn’t set up for international calls anyway. You’ll have to write her a letter.’

  Eventually, the limo drove down a long, tree-lined lane, then stopped outside a dark wood of Christmas trees and cobwebby branches. There were huge, wrought-iron gates with dragons chasing around in the metalwork. I thought the whole place looked haunted.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Michael. ‘Our country love nest.’

  ‘Where’s the house?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s there through the trees,’ said Michael. ‘There’s a lot of building work going on right now. See the scaffolding?’

  I saw glittering metal scaffold rods and piles of bricks, but no house. But when the gates opened and the limo wound through the trees, I finally saw the shell of an English country mansion, some walls half built and the beginnings of weird concrete turrets at the sides.

  The house was perfectly Michael: a blended bunch of egos. Country gent, Tudor lord, medieval king and modern millionaire celebrity.

  I managed: ‘It’ll be big when it’s finished.’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ Michael nodded approvingly. ‘The biggest house in the south-east, as a matter of fact. Acres of land around it. I’ve bought up all of Huntingdon Wood. The whole lot. Your bedroom is in that turret there.’ Michael pointed.

  ‘My bedroom? Won’t we share a bedroom?’

  ‘Don’t you want your own space? We’ve been cooped up on a tour bus for months on end.’

  ‘No, I want to be with you. Like a normal couple.’

  ‘Normal is boring. Forget about normal.’

  ‘Michael—’

  ‘Come on, Lorna. Not today.’

  I downed the last of my rum and Coke.

  ‘Whose is that quad bike?’ I asked, seeing a red all-terrain vehicle sitting near the moat wall. ‘Yours?’
r />   ‘Oh. Yeah. That’s a new toy. To go racing around the woods on. They’re vast, these grounds.’

  ‘Can I ride it one day?’

  ‘Not on your own. I’ll take you.’

  Of course not on my own. Giving me even the tiniest bit of power was too dangerous. Keys to a vehicle? No way.

  As we pulled up by the moat bridge, Michael sat up tall in his seat. His arm came across to hold me in place, even though I was strapped in.

  ‘Stay here, Lorna. Okay?’

  I followed his gaze. There was a beautiful woman outside the house, wearing classic country attire – a box-quilt bodywarmer, green wellington boots and a blouse tucked into plain blue jeans. She was older than me. Probably in her thirties. Her arms were crossed.

  ‘Who’s that?’ I asked.

  Michael’s arm was like an iron bar. ‘Wait here, okay? Don’t move, okay?’

  ‘What? Why—’

  ‘Just stay in the car, Lorna.’

  Michael climbed out of the limo, closing the door quickly behind him. I watched him give the woman a long, swaying hug. She was short and skinny, like me, and fitted Michael’s body perfectly, her head leaning on his shoulder. After a few minutes, Michael came back to the car.

  ‘Lorna,’ he whispered. ‘Diane’s here. She’s taking our separation very hard. To tell you the truth, I think she’s losing her mind. You just wait here in the car until I sort everything out.’

  Michael slammed the door before I could protest. The driver got out too and he, Michael and Diane went into the house.

  Hours passed. With a mother like mine, I was used to being tossed aside, forgotten and uncared. But then lunchtime came and went and my humiliation and discomfort grew. If Michael loved me, how could he treat me like this? Leave me out here all day, forgotten?

  Finally, Michael came trotting out of the house and opened the limo door.

  ‘Come with me, Lorna.’ He clicked his fingers at me, looking back at the house. ‘Come on.’

  ‘What’s going on, Michael? Why is Diane still here? Can’t you tell her to leave?’

  ‘I can’t bloody tell her to leave.’ Michael glanced back at the house again. ‘I told you. She’s losing it. Hurry up now, we need to get you into the house without her seeing. Unless you want to stay in the car all night.’

  ‘I’m not sneaking around—’

  ‘Yes, you bloody well are.’ Michael pushed a hurried hand through his hair. ‘Diane’s flipped out. She’d scratch you to bits if she saw you. Let’s just get you inside, up to your room.’

  ‘I’m not doing that, sneaking inside, hiding from your wife. Just tell her to leave.’

  ‘I never thought of you as a cruel person,’ said Michael, dropping his hand to my shoulder. ‘Come on. Diane is having a hard time. We don’t want to make it worse, right? Just help me out on this one. In a year’s time it’ll all be fine. But right now, she’s struggling. Listen, I’ll take you in the house and we’ll go right upstairs. Diane’s in the kitchen. She won’t see you. Sound okay?’

  ‘No. It sounds sneaky and awful.’

  ‘Lorna.’ Michael’s voice dropped to danger level. ‘Not today, okay? Don’t mess me around today. It’s been bad enough Diane turning up out of the blue. Would you just behave yourself? She’s my wife, Lorna.’ Michael gave me hard eyes. ‘My wife.’

  I got the message. I was the interloper here, not her.

  ‘Do you still love her?’

  Michael whipped round furiously. ‘DROP IT. You’re supposed to be a cool girl. Well, prove it.’ He grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the house. ‘Don’t make a sound. Not a sound.’

  As Michael pulled me along, I looked over at that big, lonely house – the place that was supposed to be my new home. Diane was lady of this castle. I was the courtesan, sneaking in the back door.

  Inside the house, there were dust sheets and building materials everywhere. It looked like someone was trying to construct three different houses: a glossy Italian marble Versace palace, a modern bachelor’s pad in graphite and a British stately home with antiques and oil paintings.

  ‘How long will Diane be here for?’ I whispered when we reached the first-floor landing.

  ‘Would you just be quiet?’

  ‘I was just asking—’

  ‘Lorna, shut up. I’m stressed enough as it is. If you keep this up, you and I are finished. I mean it. Show some respect.’

  I followed Michael to a smashed-out archway propped up with scaffold. It led to a wooden spiral staircase held up by more metal poles.

  ‘This is your bedroom.’ Michael pushed me into a round room with bare plaster on the ceiling and a mattress on the floor. ‘I had them do it out in your style so you’d feel right at home. Not that you deserve it right now, the way you’re acting.’

  The room was small and smelt of paint. Two walls were patchy with careless black paint strokes. A paint can and petrified brush sat in the corner, like someone was coming back to finish the job.

  ‘What’s my style? Train wreck?’

  ‘Hey.’ Michael took both my hands and gave me his signature whirlpool eye stare. ‘There are new things for you in the wardrobe.’ He opened a wonky cupboard, also painted a patchy black. Inside were packages of underwear – fishnet tights, suspender belts, red lace bras, all stacked up.

  ‘So, what? I wait here and dress in underwear while you entertain your wife downstairs?’

  ‘You’re not a girl who likes to upset people, right? Diane’s been through enough. She dreamed of a simple married life and it’s all come tumbling down. Have a heart. Stay here. Just stay put, okay. You’re my number-one girl.’

  ‘Michael—’

  Michael put a heavy hand on my shoulder. ‘Listen. When you’re staying at my house, you follow my rules. I’m lord of the manor here. There can only be one lord, okay? And you’re the princess. I lead, you follow. Everything is better that way. Count your blessings.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  Michael did that angry, shoulder-hunching thing. ‘Then get out of here, Lorna. Go back to your crap little life. And don’t expect anything from me, ever again.’

  Michael left then, slamming the door.

  I went to the window, tears forming. I would leave. I’d walk right out the door and through the woods and …

  It took about three seconds to understand the practical reality: I was in the middle of nowhere with no car, no friends and no money. But more than that – I didn’t know how to be without Michael. Whenever he left me alone, I felt empty. Lost. Sad. My life now was spent waiting for him.

  Back then, I was certain I would never be happy without Michael in my life. He was the only thing that made the sadness go away. I didn’t realize that, like any drug, Michael caused both the sadness and the happiness.

  I sank to the black-painted floorboards and cried into my knees.

  Somehow, I would have to make this relationship work. We had to get things back on track. Find the love again. Make things like how they were in those first few weeks.

  Michael was my happily ever after.

  Liberty

  Okay. This house is even weirder up close. I mean, what is it? It looks like a picture Darcy would draw. Turrets stuck on here, a stained-glass guitar window added there, now let’s paint the whole thing white and gold and put fake flowers by the door.

  ‘So … you have something to show me inside?’ I ask, hand on Skywalker’s collar.

  ‘Do I ever, daughter of mine.’ Michael gives me a soft, teary smile. ‘Do I ever. Come this way.’

  We head around a moat, where there’s a collection of quad bikes parked under a corrugated shelter and a butchering table with a headless rabbit on it. There are wooden bows and arrows lying around too, and a hefty-looking crossbow.

  ‘Ignore that,’ said Michael. ‘Just a bit of population control courtesy of my groundskeeper. We’ve got a rabbit problem.’

  We pass a guitar-shaped swimming pool and reach bifolding doors leading to a
huge kitchen.

  ‘You get a workout at this house, I can tell you,’ says Michael. ‘A lot of square footage. A lot of land. What I want to show you is this way – come on into the kitchen.’

  Skywalker barks and barks.

  ‘Your doggy here doesn’t like new places?’ Michael asks.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘He gets nervous.’

  ‘What about you?’ Michael asks.

  ‘Oh. You know. Not usually, but …’

  Michael frowns. ‘I shouldn’t have walked you past all that hunting stuff.’

  ‘It’s okay. I get it. I grew up in the countryside. I don’t like hunting but I know it happens.’

  ‘And you’re okay to come inside the house? You don’t think I’m going to chop your head off, like one of those bunnies?’

  I try to laugh then. ‘No. Honestly, I’m fine.’

  ‘You know, you don’t have to come inside at all, Liberty. We can go to a café or something. Neutral ground. Have a chat and a catch-up. But I really, really do want to show you this thing in here, that’s all.’

  I take a deep breath. ‘I’m okay. Honestly. Show me.’

  We’re about to cross the threshold when Diane appears, stumbling on kitten heels. I never get how women can walk on shoes like that.

  Diane’s face is haggard and tense. ‘MICHAEL.’

  Crinkles appear outside Michael’s sunglasses. ‘Jesus, Diane. What is it? Are you okay?’

  Diane puts hands on her thighs, out of breath. ‘She’s … Lorna is at the gate.’

  ‘Jesus.’ Michael closes his eyes for a moment. ‘Well, it was inevitable she’d show up, wasn’t it? Only a matter of time.’

  ‘My mother’s here?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes.’ Diane nods. ‘She’s outside.’

  ‘Don’t let her in.’ My voice is harder than I mean it to be. ‘She can’t come in here.’

  ‘God, no.’ Diane gives a high laugh. ‘I’ve called the police.’

  Michael looks at the house. ‘Maybe I should go talk to her.’

  Diane shakes her head. ‘No. You shouldn’t go anywhere near the gate. You know how Lorna twists things. You go out there, and she’ll claim you tried to shoot her or stab her or something. You stay here until the police come.’