by Lana Newton
And another thing she knew for sure – Nate had never been angry or violent to her in his life. He was not the shadow from her dream.
Unable to think of anything but Nate and Tegan, Claire found her father in his room having breakfast.
‘Why didn’t you tell me Nate was my half-brother?’ asked Claire without hesitation. She was done with small talk.
‘Who told you that?’ Tony asked, looking up from his food.
Even though Tony was watching her with a kind smile on his face, Claire didn’t want him to know she had spoken to Tegan. She didn’t want him to know about her doubts. ‘I found an old diary I wrote as a child. There was something about me and Nate being so alike, even though we were only half-brother and sister.’ She shrugged and looked away, hoping he wouldn’t pursue it further. He didn’t. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t Nate’s father?’
‘Because as far as I am concerned, I was his father. I loved him like he was my own. I couldn’t have loved a child more. You know what they say. It’s not biology that makes you a father. It takes far more than that. It’s the sleepless nights when they cry in your arms. It’s the bedtime story you read over and over, evening after exhausted evening. It’s the swimming classes you take them to first thing every Saturday morning when all you want is to sleep for another hour. It’s the first smile, the first tooth, the first word, the first step, and all the tears in between. It’s the first time you hear Daddy, the first time you teach them how to ride a bicycle, play football or drive a car. And that’s why I didn’t tell you Nate was your half-brother. Because he’s always been my son. Just like you are my daughter. Nothing could ever change that.’
Wiping her tears away, Claire said, ‘Do you know what else I found in my diary? Aunt Tegan’s address. Do you still want me to stay away from her, even though Mum is gone?’ As Claire said these words, she realised she was looking for his permission. If Tony told her she could visit her aunt, she wouldn’t feel so guilty about having done so behind his back. She didn’t like lying to her father. Of all the people in her life, she wanted their relationship to be based on honesty and trust.
There was that expression on his face again, as if something had shut down against her. ‘Yes, I still want you to stay away from her.’
‘But why? We don’t have any other family. It would be nice—’
Tony interrupted her. ‘Tegan always resented your mother. She’s gone out of her way to make Angela’s life hell. She’s jealous and manipulative.’
‘Why would she resent her own sister?’
‘Because your mother was their father’s favourite and he left all his money to her. Tegan was a wild child growing up. Ran away from home, dropped out of high school. While your mother studied hard, Tegan partied and took drugs. She didn’t see the point in education because she assumed she could fall back on her father’s money. Your grandfather wanted to teach her a lesson. He wanted her to find her own way.’
‘She …’ Claire started saying and stopped, remembering just in time her father didn’t know she had been to see her aunt. Tegan had seemed so different from the person her father was describing. But he was talking about Tegan when she was younger, Tegan of many years ago. Of course, she would have changed beyond recognition since then. ‘Didn’t Mum help her? Give her money?’
‘She tried. But Tegan refused. She was bitter over her father’s will and too proud to accept what she referred to as a hand-out when she believed half of it was rightfully hers. So she told lies. She would tell your mother she’d seen me with another woman. She would send anonymous letters to the house. Eventually, your mother couldn’t take it anymore.’
‘And that’s why they stopped talking?’
‘That’s why they stopped talking.’
Everyone’s truth was different. It was possible Aunt Tegan truly believed Tony was a womanising good-for-nothing. But Angela must have thought differently, or she wouldn’t have stood by him all these years, shutting out all the voices that screamed otherwise. She chose to lose her twin sister rather than let doubt inside her heart. Her husband had her irrevocable trust. And that had been her truth.
My aunt is wrong, Claire whispered to herself as she lay in bed that evening. She is mistaken. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. But deep inside, a tiny seed of doubt remained. What if Tegan wasn’t wrong? How well did Claire actually know her father? He rarely spoke about the past and hadn’t mentioned her brother until she asked. Was he trying to protect her? Or was he hiding something?
Chapter 20
Claire could believe her aunt but that would mean her relationship with Tony would never be the same again. It was easier for her to follow her mother’s lead and trust her father. And every day she spent with Tony, he convinced her a little bit more that Tegan was lying. He made her smile and he made her forget. Every game of Scrabble, every lunch she cooked for him and every walk in the park she took with him melted the ice cube of doubt inside her a little bit more until it was almost gone. With Tony, she could be a child again. The child she couldn’t remember but instinctively knew how to become.
At the top of the box Claire had brought from her parents’ house, inside one of her mother’s magazines, she found some old letters. Addressed to Angela, they looked frail with age, as if they belonged in a different lifetime. On the back of the envelope was Tony’s name and a Cambridge address. Trying to steady her trembling hands, Claire took a deep breath and opened the first letter. Her father’s clear handwriting was easy to read.
I must have done something right in my life to have someone like you love me. I have never been in love before. I didn’t even believe it existed. And now, when I hold you in my arms, I can’t help thinking how naive I used to be. Sometimes I close my eyes and wonder if you’re real. I wonder if I deserve you.
Claire felt slightly embarrassed, like she was witnessing something special that wasn’t meant for prying eyes, intimate like a diary entry of a stranger. Getting comfortable under her duvet, she read letter after letter, each as poetic as the first. Devouring every word, she tried to recreate her parents’ incredible story, longing to imagine them young and happy and in love. More than anything she wished she could find someone who would love her that much.
At dinner one evening, Claire told Paul everything. He was a good listener. Just talking to him made Claire feel like the burden she was carrying was suddenly not as heavy. It wasn’t completely gone but it was lighter. ‘There are times when I trust my father implicitly,’ she concluded. ‘I look into his eyes and see nothing but affection. Then there are other times, when I can’t seem to chase the doubts away. On days like that I wish I had never gone to visit my aunt. I don’t know what to think or whom to believe.’
‘Don’t be silly. Of course you do. What your aunt told you doesn’t sound like your father at all. Every time I saw him, he seemed besotted with Angela. He only had eyes for her.’
‘Why would my aunt lie?’
‘People lie for various reasons. Maybe she was jealous of Tony. Maybe she felt like he was trying to come between her and her twin. We all need one person we can turn to. Perhaps she felt Tony was trying to take hers away.’
In the absence of Gaby, Molokai had become Claire’s best friend. He accompanied her everywhere as she walked the streets, trying to fill her head with sounds and images that had little to do with her life. In the park, she would often lie on her back in the grass and think of her parents and brother. She would shield her eyes from the sun, watching Molokai splash in the pond and creep up on birds.
One day, after she had been gone for a couple of hours, her phone rang.
‘You need to come home right away,’ said Paul. ‘It’s your father.’ It wasn’t her husband’s words as much as the tone of his voice that made Claire’s heart fall in a premonition of something terrible.
Paul refused to say any more on the phone. When she returned, he was waiting outside the house. ‘What happened?’ Claire exclaimed as soon as s
he was close enough.
‘I found him in the bath. He wasn’t breathing. Thank God I forgot my phone and had to come back. Another few minutes and it would have been too late.’ Claire felt her legs trembling under her. Her face must have gone completely white, because Paul took her arm to steady her and said, ‘He’s okay now. Sedated and resting. We’ve been looking after him.’
‘You saved his life,’ she said quietly.
‘It’s lucky he’d left his bedroom door open. I heard the water running. I thought it was strange, without Helga there to help him. So I went in to check …’ Paul shuddered.
‘Was it an accident?’
Paul hesitated for a moment but when he spoke, his voice was firm. ‘I don’t think it was. And neither does his psychiatrist. They believe he’s struggling to come to terms with what happened.’
‘You think he tried to take his own life? I don’t understand. I saw him this morning. He was fine. As fine as he’s ever been.’ But she did understand. She understood perfectly. Her father hadn’t been fine in a long time. He had lost the love of his life, someone who had been by his side for most of his adult life. Judging by the letters Claire had read the night before, Angela was his only light. Now that she was gone, was it surprising he couldn’t see his way out of the darkness?
The what ifs were swirling in her mind like a cloud of hungry mosquitoes as they made their way up the driveway. What if Paul hadn’t been so forgetful? What if he came back a minute too late? What if he had rushed out the door without checking on Tony first? The more she thought about it, the more real the what ifs became. In her imagination, Paul hadn’t been forgetful. He hadn’t returned on time and hadn’t checked on Tony. In her imagination, her father was gone. She felt this imaginary loss acutely, becoming painfully aware that, had it been real, she would have been all alone in the world, with no family to speak of. Icy cold fear gripped her as Paul led her through the front door and the ghost of a house greeted them. All the lights were out and it was so quiet, she could hear herself breathe.
When Claire peered into her father’s room, she saw that he was still sleeping. Quietly she sat on the edge of his bed, watching him. He looked so peaceful, his chest rising and falling like waves rolling upon the shore. Claire took his left hand, her fingers circling the simple golden wedding band he was wearing.
An image rose to the surface, of his lifeless body submerged in the bath. She blinked, chasing it away. She could feel her whole body shaking. She had almost lost her father. If it wasn’t for Paul, she would have received a very different phone call while out in the park with Molokai. ‘I’m sorry Daddy,’ she whispered, bending over him, her tears falling on his face. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you when you needed me.
He stirred. ‘Ah. Look who’s back.’ He seemed pleased to see her. There was a smile on his face, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Better now you’re here.’
‘What a fright you gave me. What were you thinking, Dad?’
He didn’t try to pretend, didn’t try to convince her he had fallen asleep in his bath while reading the Bible. She wished he would. Then she could believe him, accept it as a terrible accident and go on as before. ‘Everything just seems so pointless. How do I live without your mother? For thirty years she’d been by my side. And now that she’s gone, I don’t know what to do. I’m just so lost without her, Claire.’
‘I know, Dad. I feel the same and I don’t even remember her. I can imagine how much harder it must be for you.’
He pulled himself up in bed. His smile was frozen on his face, as if someone had hit a pause button on a recording. His skin looked ashen. ‘Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I feel betrayed. Can you believe it? I feel angry at your mother for dying and leaving me alone. As if it was her fault. This is the absolute worst thing that’s ever happened to me. How do I go on?’
‘You better find a way. You have to promise me you’ll never do anything like this again. Have you thought for one second what it would do to me?’
His voice hoarse, he said, ‘I know you’ve been to Windsor. Did you find your aunt?’
Surprised at the change of topic and taken off guard, Claire wanted to lie, to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. God knew this was not the time for this conversation. But he deserved better. There had been too many lies. To gain time, she asked, ‘How did you know?’
‘Nina told me.’
‘I did find Tegan.’
‘Did you speak to her?’
She nodded.
‘What horrible things did she tell you about me?’
‘Nothing,’ whispered Claire. ‘She told me nothing. You should get some rest. And I’ll ask Nina to cook something special for dinner.’ He nodded and closed his eyes. ‘I love you, Dad,’ she whispered so softly, she didn’t think he would hear.
‘I love you too, Teddy Bear. In all my life, I’ve loved you the most.’
She held his hand until he fell asleep again, afraid of letting go. How could she have doubted him? Tony could never hurt someone close to him. So distraught was he without Angela, he had tried to take his own life. He would never have betrayed her with another woman. After all, he was the kindest person Claire knew. He told her he loved her every day. He rescued stray animals, like seven cats named Pluto he had told her about, because he believed no one deserved to be scared and alone. And when she had been scared and alone, he came into her life and filled it with sunshine. Her aunt was a stranger to her. Why did Claire allow Tegan to poison her with lies, if only for a moment?
Chapter 21
One Saturday morning, Paul and Claire were in the car, having driven for over an hour, and Claire had no idea where they were going. It’s a surprise, was all Paul would tell her. From the road signs she could tell they were in Oxford. All around as far as the eye could see were never-ending hills and forests that had just started to turn a deep shade of gold. It was so peaceful, she felt every muscle in her body relax. She could smell hay and manure, the scent of childhood, not that she could remember hers. But even to her it conjured carefree summer days of adventure, bike rides perhaps, canoeing down the river and camping in the woods.
‘The countryside is so beautiful,’ she said.
‘You love it here. You always used to say the open space made you feel alive. You felt trapped in the city.’
‘I can see why. Life seems to move at a different pace here.’
The landscape became increasingly more rural. When they turned off at a farm and Paul stopped the car behind a stable, it felt like London was not a couple of hours but a small universe away. Horses were grazing all around them, some nearby, others nothing but dark specs in the green and yellow of the fields. Claire’s eyes lit up like a child’s at Hamleys. She jumped out of the car and rushed to the horses, to offer them carrots Paul had packed, to put her arms around their large necks and her hands inside their manes. ‘Is that the surprise? You took me to see horses?’ she asked, touched. It was as if Paul had known about Xander.
‘You love horses. I thought seeing them might trigger a memory.’ Paul looked dishevelled that morning, as if he had just got out of bed. His hair was pointing in different directions, giving him an appearance of an untidy porcupine. There was stubble like a shadow on his face. Claire thought he looked adorable.
‘I know I had a horse as a child but I find it hard to believe. I’m pretty sure I’m afraid of heights. And horses are so tall. Wait. You don’t actually expect me to ride one of them, do you?’ There was panic in her voice, and disbelief. Could Paul do that to her? Drive her all this way to force her to go on a horse?
‘You are an expert rider. Trust me.’
‘I might trust you but I wouldn’t trust a horse. They look like they’ve got a mind of their own.’
Seemingly amused, Paul pressed her hand as if to reassure her. ‘Don’t worry. It’s like riding a bicycle. It will come back to you in n
o time.’
‘I don’t think I know how to ride a bicycle.’
‘It’s like playing the piano or dancing. Your body will remember. It was you who taught me how to ride. And you did an excellent job. I only fell off twice.’
She could feel all colour drain from her face. ‘Okay, we’ve seen the horses. Can we go now?’
‘Don’t worry. I didn’t really fall off twice.’
‘That’s a relief.’
‘Only once.’
‘Paul!’ By the expression on his face she could tell he was joking but she was afraid nonetheless. She glanced at a horse in front of her, a chestnut mare with its nostrils twitching. It didn’t look like it would take orders from anyone, let alone her.
‘Want to go home?’ asked Paul.
Claire thought of the dark house they had left behind in London, of her father’s misery as he stared at the walls of his bedroom, of all the secrets and the fears that lay in wait for her, ready to pounce as soon as she walked through the door. This trip to Oxford with Paul felt like a reprieve, albeit temporary. Although she knew it would end, she didn’t want it to end too soon. ‘And miss my chance to see you fall off your horse? I don’t think so!’ And then she saw a beautiful white stallion watching them warily from one of the stalls, his nostrils twitching. He reminded her of Xander. ‘I choose him. That’s the horse I want to ride.’
Paul was right. It was like riding a bicycle. Once the horses were saddled up, he only had to give her a tiny push and she flew up into the saddle. It was as if her body knew exactly what to do. Paul led the way down a narrow cobbled path towards the wilderness. When her horse started moving, slow and steady, as if he knew to take it easy on her, Claire shrieked.
‘Look, you startled him,’ exclaimed Paul. ‘He’s about to take off.’ She froze, waiting for the horse to run off with her. Paul added, ‘I’m only kidding. Let me show you how to control him.’
