would never get drunk or lose control again. But one glass wouldn’t do any harm, would it?
Paddy was right – there was a lot to celebrate, and it was a long time since I had felt like that,
maybe too long. Caitlyn was here, Paddy was here; we were together as I had once thought we
would always be. Perhaps this was meant to be. Perhaps this was our time. For the first time in
as long as I could remember, I had some hope that the future would be better than the past.
That was worth celebrating, wasn’t it?
We clinked glasses, looking into each other’s eyes as Luc insisted that was the French
way, and I took my first sip of champagne. It was delicious – crisp and cold, and the bubbles
tingled on my tongue. How had I forgotten this? My glass was half empty before I knew it. I
delved under the table, gave Caitlyn her new phone and handbag, and took out the box of ‘Be
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Kind to Yourself’ vouchers from my bag. There was so much about today that would qualify:
the sightseeing, the indulgent meals, the hours in bed with Paddy. I glanced at him, ready to
exchange a secret smile, but he was listening to something Caitlyn was saying. I filled in one
of the remaining cards:
BE KIND TO YOURSELF
VOUCHER TEN
I, Eve Roberts, have been kind to myself by drinking champagne!
‘Only one glass,’ I said, laughing and showing the card to Caitlyn and Paddy in turn.
‘Don’t tempt me to have another.’
‘You’re allowed to indulge yourself when you’re in Paris,’ Caitlyn said. ‘They do
amazing profiteroles with hot chocolate sauce here. You must try them.’
‘You are still eating fruit and vegetables, aren’t you?’ I asked, trying not to imagine
what else she indulged in when I wasn’t around.
‘Yes, Mum.’ Caitlyn rolled her eyes, and she and Luc laughed – affectionately, I hoped,
but it still jarred. What was Paddy making of this? I didn’t want him to see me as a frumpy old
nag, especially not after this afternoon; but when I looked towards him, he was lost in thought,
so it seemed that I’d got away with it.
The food was amazing, and I loved seeing Caitlyn, but as the evening wore on, I
couldn’t help feeling that our relationship had shifted; that perhaps by coming to France she
had passed over an emotional border as well as a geographical one, to a place where she no
longer needed me in my role of mother. As she chatted to Paddy, responded to all his questions
about her interests and talents, and what she hoped to do with her life, I saw her through his
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eyes and it struck me more forcibly than ever that she was adrift from me now; a beautiful,
independent young woman, not the child I had cared for.
‘This is so weird,’ I heard her say to Paddy, as she finished her third glass of
champagne. Her third! Of course I was counting; I hadn’t imposed my teetotal life on her, but
I’d never seen her drink more than the occasional glass of wine before. Although I couldn’t
object – somehow my one glass seemed to be mysteriously lasting all night. ‘I feel as if I know
you. The accent is so familiar. Do you get that all the time, from being on TV?’
‘Sometimes.’ Paddy looked at me. ‘Eve?’
I nodded. He was nudging me, and I couldn’t ignore him. How had I not thought this
through? I had often wondered whether Caitlyn would remember Paddy, and perhaps here was
my answer. She had only been young when she came to live with us, but they had been close;
perhaps something about him was stirring her memories. It felt too much like deception not to
explain.
‘I told you before that I knew Paddy,’ I said, fiddling with my napkin and trying to
sound as neutral as I could. I had to tread a careful line; if Paddy was to be part of our future, I
didn’t want to say anything about him that would sound like a criticism. ‘There was a bit more
to it than that. We went out at university, and lived together for a while after that. You were
only tiny, but I suppose it’s possible you remember his voice from then.’
‘Really?’ Caitlyn grinned. ‘It’s a shame you split up. It would have been cool to have
had a famous dad. Never too late, though, is it, if you’re back together now!’
‘We’re not …’ I couldn’t complete the denial, but I couldn’t confirm Caitlyn’s
assumption either. Neither Paddy nor I had spoken of our feelings this afternoon; there had
been no time to discuss whether it was the start of something or merely the impulse of the
moment, another Paris indulgence. ‘It’s complicated,’ I said, picking up my glass and suddenly
glad of the miraculous refills, even though my head was starting to feel blurry, and my thoughts
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had slowed right down. I turned to Paddy, wondering how he was dealing with this
conversation. It couldn’t be easy for him, but rather than looking awkward or embarrassed, he
was smiling at Caitlyn with undoubted pleasure.
‘Paddy?’ I said. I repeated his name, but he didn’t appear to hear me, and carried on his
conversation with Caitlyn, telling her about his TV experiences, making it sound a much more
glamorous life than the one he had told me about. I watched them both, half-formed feelings
of unease beginning to creep into my befuddled brain. I didn’t know what I had expected, after
the hours of pleasure I had shared with Paddy, but it wasn’t this; it wasn’t to feel as if he had
showered away all trace of me and moved on already. I could understand him being curious
about Caitlyn; it must be fascinating to see what she had become and to try to spot the traces
of the child she had been. But was that his only interest in her?
Snippets of circumstantial evidence started to gather in my head. I remembered the
young woman he had been staying with at the Fairlie House Hotel; I remembered the countless
photographs of him in the press, with young blondes hanging off his arm; I thought of Rich, a
man of a similar age to Paddy, abandoning me in favour of a younger woman. My stomach
turned over. Was Paddy attracted to Caitlyn? I couldn’t believe it – but how else did I explain
his total absorption in her tonight?
The suspicion, once implanted and watered with alcohol, grew with every smile, every
look that lasted too long, every laugh that seemed too loud. Instead of lingering as I would have
wanted, soaking in every moment of Caitlyn’s company, I found myself making an excuse to
break up the party early: a convenient headache, due to the unaccustomed champagne. We said
hurried goodbyes, and Luc offered to call a taxi, but I needed some fresh air to sober me up
and blow the muddled thoughts out of my head. We started walking back towards our hotel.
‘Ah Eve, this is my fault,’ Paddy said, trying to take my hand. ‘I shouldn’t have filled
your glass up. It must have hit you hard after so many years without alcohol.’
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I brushed off his hand and folded my arms to resist any further attempt. Something had
hit me hard tonight, and it wasn’t just alcohol. It was a punch to the heart, bruising my
confidence in Paddy and in myself.
I was only two weeks short of my fortieth birthday. In
Paddy’s arms this afternoon, those years had felt weightless, insignificant. Now every week of
those forty years felt like scars on my body, face and mind, marking me as someone old,
someone past my prime. Had I really been stupid enough to think Paddy might have feelings
for me, when he had the whole world to choose from?
‘Caitlyn’s fantastic, isn’t she?’ he said, and I could hear the warmth in his voice. As a
mother, an aunt, I should have cherished those words; as a newly suspicious lover, they were
the last ones I could wish to hear – a death knell to my hopes.
‘Yes, she is. And Luc’s lovely,’ I said, with pointed emphasis. ‘They make a perfect
couple.’
‘You think so? He’s a charmer, I’ll give him that. I’m not sure he’s good enough for
her, though.’
The hypocrisy of this, from a man who employed charm like his own personal currency,
was the final straw. I stopped walking and turned to Paddy.
‘Who would be good enough for her?’ I asked. ‘You?’
‘What?’ I could see from the street lamps the frown building on his face. ‘What are you
talking about?’
‘You! The way you were with Caitlyn tonight. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. Are
you attracted to her, is that it?’ I didn’t wait for him to reply. I couldn’t; the words were pouring
out by themselves, as they had once before when I’d drunk too much, with such horrifying
consequences. ‘It’s disgusting. You’re old enough to be her father!’
I saw the shock hit his face; saw him stagger back as if I had struck him with my fists
as well as my words.
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‘Jeez, Eve, you don’t know what you’re saying. I might be her father!’
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CHAPTER 22
Paris by night was extraordinarily beautiful. The sun had set but the twilight sky was still deep
velvet blue over our heads. Street lamps cast pools of light like giant stepping stones marking
my way as I ran past the elegant couples strolling home, not caring where I was going, only
trying to get as far away from Paddy as I could.
What had he meant, that he might be Caitlyn’s father? How was that possible? I hadn’t
known him when Faye fell pregnant. Caitlyn was born only a few weeks after we had started
going out; I remembered what agony it had felt, in those early days of our relationship, to leave
him for a weekend when I travelled home to see my new niece. It made no sense.
I paused when I reached a bustling side street, busy even at this time of night with
people sitting at tables outside bars and cafés. Smoke and noise drifted towards me and instead
of running on, I sat down at an empty table, managing to order a brandy from a waiter, and to
beg a cigarette from a man at the neighbouring table.
I had taken one sip and one puff, and was choking over one or the other, when Paddy
sat down opposite me. He took the cigarette and stubbed it out, and directed a stream of French
at the waiter, ordering something that I didn’t understand. Shortly afterwards, the waiter set a
black coffee and a glass of water in front of me.
‘Is this decaf?’ I asked.
‘Unlikely,’ Paddy said. ‘It’ll do you less harm than the cigarette.’
I shrugged, in what I imagined was a Gallic way; I could speak the body language, if
nothing else. Paddy had never approved of me smoking. I had been a social smoker when we
met, but he had weaned me off the habit – easy to do, when the rewards of quitting were so
sweet.
‘You must have made a mistake, surely?’ I asked. ‘About you being Caitlyn’s father?’
He sighed, picked up the brandy glass and gulped it down.
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‘No mistake. I’m so sorry, Eve. I could be her father.’
‘But how? The timing doesn’t fit …’ I trailed off. I was fixating on the timing and
ignoring the other obvious issue. If Paddy thought he could be Caitlyn’s father, that meant he
and Faye had … How? When? I scalded my tongue on the coffee, determined not to ask. If I
asked, I would know, and what would I do then? Memories of my afternoon with Paddy were
already transforming, with Faye taking my place in the images in my head.
‘I met her before you,’ he said, and I shut my eyes, because I wanted to watch him say
this even less than I wanted to hear it. ‘She was a girl in a bar during Freshers’ Week. Another
student, so I thought. She bought me a drink, we chatted, we went outside. It was five minutes
against the wall in the pub car park. I don’t know where she went after that. I didn’t see her
around the campus again.’
I knew where she had gone. She had come back to my room in halls, high on life,
reeking of alcohol and sex. Faye hadn’t gone to university and had begged to visit me during
Freshers’ Week, so she could see what it was all about. And it had been all about her, of course.
She had floated round the campus, captivating everyone she met, and fitting in better than I
ever could. I was sure the night I remembered must be the same one that Paddy was talking
about. Faye and I had gone into town together, but had lost each other, and I had eventually
returned to my room, frantic with worry about where she might be; mobile phones hadn’t been
a fact of life back then. But while I had been pacing the floor, wondering whether she was safe,
she’d been … I shuddered. My poor, darling Caitlyn. She deserved so much better than this
tawdry start in life.
‘I never betrayed you, Eve. I didn’t know you then.’
I opened my eyes. Paddy was leaning towards me, his arms resting on the table.
Shadows covered half his face – and how appropriate that was, because it felt like I’d only ever
half known him.
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‘Not then,’ I said. ‘But after I’d introduced you to Faye – for the first time, I’d thought
– you betrayed me every day by not telling me the truth.’
‘I didn’t even remember her at first,’ Paddy said, flinging back in his chair. ‘And then
when I stayed at your house one holiday, she started messing with me, dropping little hints so
I didn’t know what to think: was Guinness still my favourite drink? Did I want a quick this or
a quick that? Did I like Caitlyn’s name? She’d chosen an Irish one especially …’
‘That’s not true,’ I replied quickly. ‘She had a doll called Caitlyn as a child; she always
loved the name. And Faye wouldn’t have done any of that. She wasn’t like that.’
‘Sure she was. She was a selfish, manipulative bitch and everyone but you could see
it.’
I pushed back my chair, threw a couple of notes on the table, and walked away. I had
no idea where I was or where I was going, but anywhere had to be better than listening to more
from Paddy. But halfway down the street, I stopped. I was overlooking the obvious, again. This
wasn’t about me, or Paddy, or Faye. It was about Caitlyn. I turned back. Paddy was following
me, his hands in his pockets.
‘After Faye died,’ I said, ‘when Caitlyn came to live with us, and you decided to
leave
… You knew all this? You knew you might be her father – the only parent she had left – and
you abandoned her anyway?’
The answer was there on his face, impossible to escape; impossible to forgive.
‘Yes.’
And then I turned my back on him and walked away.
*
It was late when I finally made it back to the hotel, but it hardly mattered. There would be no
sleep after tonight’s revelations. Instead, I pored over my phone, scrolling through all the
photos I had of Caitlyn, looking for any resemblance to Paddy – an expression, a feature,
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anything that might prove either way whether she was his daughter. There was nothing, or
nothing that was obvious to me. Physically she resembled Faye and always had done. Were
there any signs in her character? She was a talented artist, but Faye’s artistic skills had been in
a different league to Paddy’s doodles. She was good at languages, but that didn’t prove
anything, did it? Even Mum had picked up decent Spanish in her years living abroad.
I stopped at a photograph of Faye. It had always been one of my favourites: I had taken
it in Mum and Dad’s garden, and Faye was holding a toddler Caitlyn and laughing as she looked
at something over my shoulder. Something or someone? Sudden suspicion flashed into my
mind. Had Paddy been there? It was quite possible; we had spent most holidays alternating
between his house and mine. Could Faye have been smiling at him? There was a teasing air to
the smile … but if I thought that, I would believe Paddy and condemn Faye. How could I do
that? Faye wouldn’t have manipulated and tormented him like that. I couldn’t believe it,
couldn’t believe that she could be so different to the sister I thought I had known. If I did, it
would be like losing her all over again.
And yet … as the night went by, and I sat in a chair by the window without catching
any sleep, I couldn’t ignore the truth. Through all the years I had been going out with Paddy,
A Dozen Second Chances (ARC) Page 28
