by Heidi Swain
I didn’t give him a chance to answer.
‘She did it,’ I charged on, ‘because she was trying to put a brave face on things. She didn’t want the rest of the world knowing that she was crumbling inside because of your endless affairs, so she made the outside of herself as beautiful and groomed as she possibly could. She invested in all those designer outfits,’ I raged, ‘because—’
‘Because,’ Dad interrupted, reaching for my hand before I could move it out of his reach, ‘the woman who owned her favourite boutique was your mother’s lover, and your mum used her shopping habit as an excuse to spend time with her.’
The silence which descended was so complete, so deep, I was sure I could hear waves lapping the shore, even though the tide was out. Or was the rushing sound just in my head? It seemed to fill the spaces in and around me and was accompanied by a sudden light-headedness which before had heralded the arrival of a vertigo attack.
‘What?’ I croaked.
‘I’m sorry to just blurt it out like that, Tess,’ Dad said as he squeezed my hand harder and everything began to look fuzzy around the edges, ‘but it wasn’t pages from your mum’s diary that you found. They were from mine.’
I closed my eyes, but that didn’t help stave off the spinning sensation and I slowly, very slowly, opened them again.
‘You’ve been reading my reaction to your mother’s affairs,’ he said, ‘not her reaction to mine.’
The expression in his eyes and the set of his mouth suggested he was telling the truth, but surely that couldn’t be right.
‘But Mum wasn’t a lesbian,’ I finally whispered, ‘she was married to you. She had me . . . and the way the diary was worded . . .’
‘She was,’ he whispered back. ‘I know it’s hard to get your head around Tess, but your mum was gay. Throughout the early years of our marriage, she did everything she could to make herself believe that she wasn’t, but she was and, in the end, she gave up trying to pretend otherwise.’
‘But the diary,’ I stammered.
‘I had to be careful how I wrote it,’ he explained, ‘I wanted, needed, to get my feelings out of my head but knew a book could be found and a computer could be hacked, so in the end I settled for trying to make it read as if . . .’
‘A woman had written it,’ I interrupted, ‘you messed around with the pronouns and that’s what made me think that Mum had written it.’
‘Yes,’ he nodded.
He’d almost succeeded too, but now I realized that was why a few things hadn’t quite added up, no matter how many times I read them. That was why the words hadn’t always scanned quite as seamlessly as they should.
‘I see,’ I whispered, even though I was struggling to. Dad then explained that it was Mum who had been the adulterous one in their marriage, not him. She had had numerous affairs over the years and they had all been with women.
‘But the final one,’ he said, sighing deeply. ‘That was different.’
‘You wrote that she was “the one”, didn’t you?’ I interrupted.
‘Yes,’ he nodded, ‘I did and she was.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She was the love of your mother’s life.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I’ve talked to her,’ Dad said, looking uncomfortable. ‘I now know that your mother was planning to leave me for her. Once she had discovered the diary, she realized the emotional damage she had caused and knew it had to stop. She was planning to make a clean break of it and let us both move on with our lives.’
That was something, I supposed.
‘So, you knew Mum had found the diary?’
‘Not until I discovered this page in her trunk,’ he said, looking at the sheet, ‘and then I spoke to the other woman, Vanessa, before realizing that you most likely had the rest of it and had assumed that . . .’
It was a relief that he couldn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t want to hear him say out loud that I had jumped to the one conclusion that couldn’t have been any further from the truth.
‘But why didn’t you leave her first, Dad?’ I stole myself to ask. ‘Why didn’t you divorce her when you first discovered what was going on? From what you’ve written, the affairs had been happening for a really long time.’
He squeezed my hand again and shrugged, ‘I couldn’t leave her,’ he said, ‘because there was a part of me that still loved her.’
It broke my heart to hear him say that and I suddenly understood that trying to ignore what had been happening in Mum’s life was the real reason behind why he had thrown himself into the business. He had wanted something which would occupy as much of his time as Mum’s lovers did hers.
‘And it was why I pulled you into the business, Tess,’ he went on. ‘I thought if I could give you something to focus on, you wouldn’t have time to worry over or question your parents’ failing marriage. It was why I worked you harder than everyone else,’ he added. ‘I wanted to keep your eye trained anywhere other than on the home front.’
My head felt lighter than ever and my stomach rolled in response. Not only was I having to reassess everything I thought I knew about my mum, I was also reeling from how my own life had been moulded as a result of Dad’s misguided attempt to protect me.
‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’ I whispered. ‘You could have told me.’
I don’t know how I would have reacted but I hated that he had lived with this for so long and not confided in anyone other than his laptop.
He let go of my hand and sat back.
‘I didn’t feel that it was my place to,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to be the person who set the ball rolling. I couldn’t risk either you or your mum resenting me for forcing her hand.’
‘So, you just put up with it.’
‘I tried to,’ he said, ‘but it wasn’t easy.’
Easy or not, it wasn’t something I could have done.
‘But you did it.’
‘As I said,’ he sighed, ‘I tried. I didn’t always manage particularly well, but I did my best.’
‘Oh Dad,’ I said, shaking my head again before thinking better of it.
‘It’s okay,’ Dad smiled.
I wanted to believe it was, but I couldn’t. He had sacrificed so much of himself, so many years and I hated the fact that I had been so ready to accept that he was the one in the wrong.
‘I really don’t know what to say,’ I sighed as I tried to make some sort of sense of it all.
No wonder he had struggled to show his grief. I could see now that Mum had left him long before she died and his reaction to sorting through her clothes wasn’t because he didn’t care, it was because he knew the real reason behind why there were so many wardrobes full of them.
‘Why didn’t you tell me after Mum had gone?’ I asked him. ‘Surely, it would have been easier then.’
‘I was going to,’ he said, ‘the day we started sorting through everything in the dressing room. That was the day I had decided that I would explain.’
‘So, why didn’t you?’
Dad smiled.
‘It was your mention of the yellow sundress that she used to wear when we holidayed here,’ he told me. ‘The way you described her reminded me that you still had the perfect image of her in your head. You might have grown apart as you got older, but that was still the Mum that she was to you, Tess. I wasn’t going to destroy that.’
‘Oh, Dad.’
I watched as he leant over and added another spoon of sugar to my coffee. It was going to take a lot more than that for me to get over the shock.
‘Hey,’ said Hope, who suddenly burst in and set the café bell jangling. ‘What’s going on? I just had a text from Mum saying she needed me to come down. Is everything all right?’
Sophie came out of the kitchen, untied her apron and took the seat next to Dad, before telling Hope to squeeze in next to me.
‘What’s up with you?’ Hope said to me. ‘You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’
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br /> ‘I’m all right,’ I croaked, wondering why on earth the four of us were sitting together when Dad and I clearly still needed more time to talk and I needed some space to think through everything he had just told me.
‘Well, you don’t look it,’ Hope said again.
‘I’m fine,’ I sniffed, ‘really.’
She didn’t push me further, but turned her attention to Dad.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I don’t think we’ve met.’
Now it was my turn to apologize.
‘Sorry,’ I said, finally remembering my manners. ‘This is my dad. Dad, this is my friend, Hope.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Hope, looking between the two of us. ‘I didn’t know you were expecting a visitor,’ she said to me, obviously trying to gauge my reaction to Dad’s unexpected appearance.
Thankfully, I didn’t have the opportunity to try and work out how to answer her.
‘Are you sure you’re all right, Tess?’ Sophie asked, noticing my pallor now Hope had pointed it out.
I nodded.
‘I’m okay.’
Sophie looked at Dad.
‘I don’t think . . .’ she began, but Dad stopped her.
‘It’s time,’ he said. ‘And I really don’t want to have to stop, not now that I’ve started.’
Hope and I looked at each other again, both of us now sporting deep frowns. The morning had already held enough shocks for me, but clearly there were more to come.
‘As I said a minute ago, Tess,’ Dad said, looking directly at me, ‘I did try my best to be a good husband.’
‘Of course,’ I nodded.
‘But no one’s perfect,’ he swallowed, biting his lower lip to stop it from trembling.
‘Please,’ said Sophie, looking first at me and then to Dad, ‘let me explain.’
Dad nodded and dropped his gaze to the table.
‘Your father,’ she said, her own voice now thick with emotion, ‘only had one lapse in his marriage, Tess, and it was many, many years ago. One moment of weakness after he discovered something about your mum.’
I was relieved that she didn’t elaborate on what that was.
‘Hope,’ Sophie carried on, now looking at her daughter as she drew in the deepest breath and her eyes filled with tears.
It was a shock to see. I’d never seen her face do anything other than smile.
‘What?’ Hope asked, sounding as unsure as Sophie looked.
Dad lifted his eyes from the table again.
‘You know I told you that your father was a holidaymaker from here in Wynmouth?’
‘Yes,’ said Hope, her eyes now tracking from my dad to her mum and back again, as were mine.
‘You can’t be serious?’ I whispered.
‘Are you telling me . . .’ Hope joined in.
‘Yes,’ Sophie cut in, her voice barely louder than a whisper, ‘Hope, this is your dad.’
Stunned silence descended and I came to the conclusion that this was all a dream. I would wake up in a minute and find myself back in Crow’s Nest Cottage, sweating and with the sheet wrapped tightly around me.
‘Say something,’ Sophie begged her daughter. ‘Please.’
‘I remember you,’ Hope slowly said, pointing at Dad and dashing all thoughts that I was in a dream-state and not really sitting next to her in the café. ‘You spoke to me, didn’t you? And I went running to Mum because I thought you were some weirdo.’
Dad nodded, clearly remembering the same thing.
‘I thought I’d worked out who you were,’ Dad said, ‘and ended up getting carried away and asking too many questions.’
‘Was that the year you cut our holiday short?’ I asked. ‘It was our last holiday in Wynmouth, wasn’t it? You said we had to leave because of work, but that wasn’t why, was it?’
‘Yes, it was that year,’ said Dad, ‘and no, we didn’t really have to go because of work. I was convinced that Hope was my daughter and thought it best if we left.’
I couldn’t believe it.
‘So, you’ve been here before?’ Hope asked, twisting around to look at me. ‘This isn’t your first time in Wynmouth?’
‘We used to come here every year for our summer holidays,’ I told her. ‘I know the place like the back of my hand.’
‘Oh my god,’ she gasped, not sounding like herself at all.
‘Your father wrote to me after you left that summer,’ said Sophie, filling in more of the cracks which had opened up in my understanding of that time. ‘He said he was sorry for leaving. That discovering Hope had been one of the biggest shocks of his life. He also said that he would support us financially, that he would have been doing it since you were born, Hope, had he known about you. He also said that his marriage was a sham, but he couldn’t bring himself to end it, Tess. He said he couldn’t do anything that would risk your happiness and that he still loved your mum.’
I looked at Dad and, finding tears in his eyes, let mine flow unchecked. All the time I had assumed he loved work more than me and Mum, he was in fact using it as a sanity saver and to help keep two families financially afloat. He wasn’t the selfish, work-driven guy I had him down as at all and he never had been.
‘I had no idea,’ I sniffed.
This time I reached for his hand while Sophie reached for Hope’s. Dad slipped his other hand into Sophie’s and Hope grabbed mine.
I’ve no idea how long we sat there, each of us lost in our own thoughts, but I was the one who eventually spoke first.
‘So,’ I asked, ‘have you and Sophie been in touch all this time?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Ever since that summer.’
‘And you hadn’t been here long before I worked out who you were, Tess,’ Sophie admitted. ‘I didn’t say anything to your dad to begin with, but he was so worried when you told him you were staying away for longer, that I had to tell him you were here and safe in Wynmouth.’
‘So, all the time I thought I was free,’ I said aloud, ‘you were keeping tabs on me, Sophie.’
‘Sort of,’ she acknowledged. ‘But had you gone home when you originally planned, I would have kept your secret. I’m sorry for dobbing you in, Tess.’
‘But what else could you do?’ I said, feeling slightly rattled but at the same time knowing that she had been in a difficult position. ‘It’s fine.’
It was strange, and if I was being truthful, a little annoying to think that there had been a spy in the camp from the moment I had arrived, but not as strange as realizing that she had been living with the knowledge that—
‘Oh my god,’ I said, turning to Hope. ‘We’re . . .’
‘Sisters!’ Hope gasped back. ‘Bloody hell, Tess, we’re sisters!’
*
I was still well and truly reeling from the revelations the beginning of my day had brought about, but thankfully I wasn’t treading the unexpected path alone. Hope was journeying along it with me and it was a comfort to have her by my side.
‘You know,’ she told me, shaking her head in wonder as we walked back into the village together. ‘I’ve always wondered if I had brothers and sisters somewhere in the world.’
‘Have you?’
I had cited my phone parcel as an excuse to leave the café, but really, I needed a bit of fresh air and some space in which to pull my thoughts together. Hope’s quick offer to accompany me told me that she was feeling much the same way.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I have and,’ she added with a nudge, ‘here you are.’
I nudged her back, still struggling to find the words.
‘Yes,’ I managed to whisper, ‘here I am.’
We carried on a few steps in silence again.
‘Do you think they’re going to get together now?’ she then shocked me by asking.
‘Who?’
‘Our parents,’ she said, ‘Do you think they’re going to become a couple?’
‘Crikey,’ I said, ‘I don’t know.’
‘I reckon they’re still into each othe
r,’ she said, as she linked her arm through mine. ‘You can just tell, can’t you?’
‘I don’t know,’ I swallowed, ‘it was all such a shock I can’t say that I had time to notice details like that.’
‘Well, I did,’ she said.
I pressed the tips of my fingers into my temples.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I think so,’ I said breathing slowly in and out. ‘It’s just such a lot to take in.’
‘It’s epic though, right?’ she said, stopping to look at me, her head cocked to one side.
I could sense her concern. She needed some reassurance from me.
‘Totally,’ I agreed, ‘and I honestly couldn’t wish for a better sister, it’s just . . .’
‘Too much for a mid-summer morning?’ she suggested. ‘Way too much,’ I agreed.
Hope might have just discovered who her dad was but I was still recovering from the revelation that my mum wasn’t who I thought she was and she never had been. It was a miracle I was still on my feet.
‘Would you mind if we kept this to ourselves for now?’ I asked, when we reached the cottage.
‘I was just about to ask you the same thing,’ she smiled. ‘I want to get it all fathomed out first before we go making any big announcements.’
‘Same,’ I smiled back, relieved that she agreed with me, but surprised nonetheless.
For Hope to hold back on anything it must have been a really big deal, not that I was in any doubt just how life-changing this all was, but it was yet another shock, to have her agreeing to hang fire when it came to telling everyone.
‘I won’t tell a soul,’ she said, ‘not even Sam, but let’s not take too long working it all out. After all, we’ve got almost three decades of sisterhood to make up for.’
After hugging at the gate, I slipped into the cottage, banishing the thought of how difficult it was going to be making up for all that lost time with my half-sister when her partner and I had kissed and he had subsequently taken against me, and thought instead that I should probably open Dad’s letter. However, as seemed to be the way of it these days, the universe had other ideas.
