“My story is easy to check out. The police were involved in the accident investigation of course, because there was a death, and later some detectives took over my case, trying to work out if Bruce Whittaker and I were who we were supposed to be. At the time I couldn’t understand why a couple of them didn’t seem to believe me, but maybe they were right”.
“But what about identification, surely you had that? Fingerprints? Yours probably weren’t registered anywhere, but this Bruce Whittaker, who was he?”
“I don’t know. All I know was that our passports said we were British, but that we had moved to New Zealand. We hadn’t left much of a trail, we hadn’t been here for very long, which was probably why the detectives were suspicious, but I didn’t have any information to give them”.
“British? But you still speak with an Australian accent, didn’t they ask about that?”
“Well, yes they did, but when they went through their foreign affairs people and got my travel history, they found that I had spent a couple of years in Australia when I was a teenager, lots of English people do apparently, so they figured I had just picked up an accent there, and that the way I spoke was somehow tied in with my amnesia. You know, some form of reinvention or something. My counsellor thought maybe my husband was abusive, so maybe in my mind I was trying to go back to a happier time”.
Mitch had sat forward as I spoke. He asked his next question very quietly.
“Why did they think your husband was abusive, Helen?”
“Well, I was covered in bruises from the car accident of course, but some of them were older and…” I looked at him in horror. Maybe it hadn’t been Bruce who had beaten me, and maybe I now had an explanation for why I would have feigned my death to get away from Mitch. Mitch moved forward and I flinched. Shocked, he sat back.
“Helen, I swear, whatever you are thinking, I never raised a hand to you. I loved you, or at least, I loved who I thought you were, and I would never have touched you. Not like that, anyway”.
I nodded slowly, remembering where I was and how vulnerable I was. My mind was a whirl. I believed what Mitch was saying, but where did that leave me? What should I do now?
“I suppose I should contact the police then, and tell them who I am. They can contact the police in Australia if you like, and do whatever they need to do? I don’t know what to do next. I’d like to help you find your money, really I would, but I don’t know how I can”.
“Helen, having the money returned would be good, but I can live without it, I have plenty. I would like a photo of the man you knew as Bruce Whittaker though, to see if I know him. I think it’s pretty clear that he was somehow tied up in all this, he must be the one who helped you. Did they fingerprint him after the accident, do you know? I wonder if his prints would turn up anywhere else? If you have the number of the detectives working on your case, I’ll call them on Monday, I doubt they will want to hear from you tomorrow, being a Sunday”.
As Mitch mentioned Sunday, I remembered Michelle. I was supposed to pick her up from Hilary’s house tomorrow. I looked closely at Mitch, and suddenly I knew why his eyes had seemed so familiar to me. I saw them every day, in Michelle’s face. I looked down at my hands, not knowing what to do. This man hated me, that much was clear. He was also rich, and I lived from payday to payday. If he fought me for Michelle, how could I hope to win? He was Michelle’s father, of that I was sure, and he deserved to know her, but not at the cost of my happiness. I lifted my chin and stared at him, deciding to do what he had accused me of, deceiving him.
“Fine. Monday it is then. In the meantime, what do we do between now and then? I’ve got a few things to do at home, so where shall we meet on Monday?”
Mitch’s mouth quirked to one side in a half-smile.
“Wherever you go, I go, Helen. For all I know you could have made up that whole story, until I get to check it out for myself, consider us joined at the hip. If you want to go home, I’ll go with you. But I’d prefer to stay here. Room service here is excellent. You choose”.
I tried to keep my expression neutral as I looked at him. I couldn’t keep Michelle from him for ever, but I didn’t want him to meet her while he was in this frame of mind. He had just seen me a few hours ago, after thinking I was either dead or had deceived him, he had to be feeling some very powerful emotions right now, and I wanted him to meet Michelle when he was a bit cooler. I was still feeling wrung out myself, and I knew I would benefit from a break before having to deal with telling a man that he was a father to a two year old child he had never seen before.
“Here then. I hope this place has two bedrooms though, because I’m not sharing a bed with you”. As handsome as he was, and even knowing that we had been intimate enough to have created Michelle, I needed some distance from him. I could hardly sneak out if he was sharing my bed.
“No? Not even once, for old time’s sake? Ah, Michelle, I’m disappointed, but not surprised. Sure, I’ll sleep in another room tonight, but then tomorrow, we’ll talk more”.
With that, he got up off the bed, and left the room. It was a little disappointing, and disconcerting. He had given in quite easily, perhaps too easily. I checked my clothes, expecting to find a homing device on me, then giggled as I realized that I wouldn’t even know what a homing device looked like. I took my phone and set an alarm for four am. I would get a few hours’ sleep, then go home and look through my papers, trying to make some sense of the puzzle, before going over to collect Michelle as early as I thought Hilary would be up.
~
Feeling a little like a thief, trying to sneak out in the night, I crept quietly out of the bedroom I had been occupying. I was afraid to turn any lights on, so had to walk slowly in order to avoid bumping into furniture. Luckily there was a good moon tonight, and the drapes had been left open, so after my eyes adjusted I was able to navigate my way to the door, closing it gently behind me before summoning the elevator. Hoping that it wouldn’t make a loud ding to announce its arrival, I was pleased that the noise was muted. I assumed it was deliberately discreet so as not to disturb the occupants of the penthouse, but for whatever reason, I was grateful. I held my head high as I marched across the hotel lobby, still wearing my clothes from the day before, now wrinkled from being slept in. I was sure they had seen the walk of shame once or twice in this hotel, and as no-one seemed to pay me any attention, they probably thought I was just another ‘overnight guest’ trying to leave early, before the city was awake. It took me a while to get a taxi, and as I slid into a cab I really couldn’t afford, I gave the directions to my house out in the suburbs. At least because traffic was so light, the trip should be short and the cost lower than if I had been stuck in traffic, I tried to reason to myself, but I still watched in horror as the meter climbed higher and higher. I had to use my credit card to pay the fare when we got to my house, but I had no choice, I didn’t carry a lot of cash with me.
Flinging off my work clothes which now felt grotty as I had worn them to sleep in as well as work in, I stood in the shower for a long while thinking about the events of the night before. I still hadn’t worked out what to do to secure custody of Michelle, and even toyed with the idea of denying her parentage. That wouldn’t work for long however, as if Mitch insisted on a DNA test I was sure that he would be the father.
I dressed in an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and started rummaging through the drawer where I kept my papers. I pulled out Bruce’s passport and looked at the photo again. Now that I had met Mitch, I wondered how I could ever have thought this man was Michelle’s father. He looked nothing like her, and apart from her hair colour, she didn’t look much like me either. I closed my eyes as I recalled Mitch’s face. Michelle’s was clearly a more feminine and childish version of his, and as the roundness of babyhood slowly fell away, I was sure that her face would take on the determined features of her father. I looked again at Bruce’s photo, trying to remember anything about him. Why were we carrying papers stating that we were married if we weren’
t? More importantly, if I accepted that our papers were fake, which of us had the criminal connections to get them, as forgeries of this standard, as well as some sort of back history, wouldn’t be cheap to obtain. I shuddered as I wondered just who I had been associating with, and hoped that they had been paid for their troubles. The last thing I needed was to come to the attention of criminals with a grudge. Sitting at my table, I gulped a cup of coffee as I scratched some figures on a piece of paper. But no matter how I arranged my sums, my financial situation didn’t look any better.
When eight o’clock came around, I walked out of my front door, down the path, and turned up the path to Hilary’s house. Lost in thought, I didn’t even notice what cars were parked in the street, and only dimly registered the sound of a car door slamming as I knocked on Hilary’s door. Hilary opened it, smiling at first to see me as she unlatched and pushed open the security door, then the smile faded from her face as she looked over my shoulder. I turned and fell back a step as I saw Mitch standing there, staring at me as grimly as ever.
“Did you follow me?” I almost stuttered, wondering if he really had put a tracking device on me.
Mitch smirked as he held up my driver’s licence. I didn’t even know why I had one, as I couldn’t afford a car, but I had thought it important to have a licence, just in case.
“Nope, I just stole this from your bag when you weren’t looking. I thought you’d try to do a runner, so decided to be prepared”.
As he spoke, he placed a hand in the small of my back, and not so gently, propelled me into Hilary’s house, putting my licence in his pocket as he extended a hand to Hilary.
“Mitch Barrow. Pleased to meet you, Mrs-?”
Hilary looked from Mitch to me as she took Mitch’s hand. An incredulous look stole across her face as she looked to Mitch again, then back at me. What she would have said next, if she had been going to say anything at all was forestalled by a little voice that I knew so well. My heart sank as the little whirlwind ran to me, grabbing on to my legs.
“Mummy, mummy, up up up!”
I leaned down and picked up Michelle, smiling at her cherubic little face, stalling for time before looking at Mitch. When I finally did, it was just as I feared. He looked livid. Thankfully, Mitch had the presence of mind not to give vent to whatever he was feeling in front of Michelle and Hilary. Instead he nodded at Hilary then turned to me tersely.
“Have you got everything, Helen?”
I turned to Hilary who was still staring at us, almost like she was watching a tennis match. Her eyes were moving from Mitch to me, and back again, occasionally resting on Michelle who was now snuggled against my side. When Mitch had spoken, Michelle had turned her head into my shoulder, and refused to look at him. Michelle wasn’t used to a lot of men, she knew and loved Frank, but he was the only regular man in her life and she was shy when meeting anyone new. I looked to Hilary and tried to ignore the simmering man at my side.
“Whatever Michelle was wearing last night, I’ll pick up later, if that’s alright?”
Hilary nodded, and I turned, heading to the door, or as I felt, to my own execution. I could sense Mitch following at my back, and he stepped in front of me to open the door, repeating the process after we found ourselves at my front door.
I stepped inside, and Michelle instantly demanded to be let down, quickly looking at Mitch and then running towards her room. I exhaled and turned to Mitch.
“She’s mine, isn’t she?” He demanded, without preamble.
“I think so”.
“What do you mean, you think so? How many men were you sleeping with besides me?”
“None! Or at least, none that I know of. I don’t think I would have done that. What I meant was, I don’t have any memories before the hospital, remember I told you? I just always assumed Michelle’s father was my husband, Bruce, but now I don’t even know if he was my husband. I don’t know anything anymore, I don’t even know my own name. You keep calling me Helen, is that really my name?”
He moved towards me, still looking angry, but clearly trying to keep his temper.
“Your name is Helen. You took my surname when we married, so your name is still Helen Barrow. Your maiden name was Helen Whitchurch, so it’s interesting that your fake name is so close to that. I guess you didn’t want to stray too far from the truth, otherwise it’s easy to get tripped up by the lies isn’t it?”
He moved closer to me still, and I had to force myself to stand my ground. I refused to let him make me back up, despite everything he had said about me, it still didn’t feel right. I didn’t think I could really be as bad a person as he was telling me I was, but there was a lot I didn’t know. I raised my head and stared at him, letting him make the next move.
“So why do you say you think she’s mine?”
“I didn’t say she was yours, she’s not a possession. I think she’s your daughter though, she has your eyes. I didn’t realise it until I met you, but now that I’ve seen you, it makes sense”.
Mitch stared at me a bit longer. He had looked at me quizzically when I had upbraided him for the way he spoke about Michelle. He didn’t speak for a while, staring at me until I felt really uncomfortable, and then when he did speak, he had obviously been weighing up his words.
“I know she’s not a possession, but if she is my daughter, she’s coming home with me. I didn’t even know she existed before today, I didn’t even know you were pregnant when you disappeared. I’ve missed out on a lot of her life, and I’m not missing out on any more”.
I took a deep breath, what Mitch was saying was exactly what I was afraid of.
“You’re not taking her from me, I’m her mother and I’m all she knows. I know you’ve got more money than I have, but I’ll fight you if you try to take her away”.
Mitch seemed to grow even angrier at that.
“I’m not a monster, no matter what you might think about me. I wouldn’t try to take her away from you, not now anyway. You can come back with us if you want to, but Michelle is coming home with me. You might not remember it, but our apartment is big enough for all three of us, and then some. You can stay with me for the time being, at least until you get back on your feet. Remember, you still have questions to answer about your disappearance. If the police can prove you were involved in your fake kidnapping, you’ll probably end up doing time. Don’t you think that it would be best for Michelle if she feels comfortable with me, so that if you aren’t around, she isn’t left with strangers? I want to get to know her, and for her to get to know me, and the only way to do that properly is if she lives with me, as she should if she’s my daughter. A DNA test should be easy to organise, if we get it done privately it should be done in a matter of days, once we find a lab that’s equipped to do it. I imagine there’s going to be some problems getting a passport for her, but once that’s done, we’re going back home. You can come with us or stay here, but make no mistake, I’m not leaving her behind”.
~
Mitch had been as good as his word. Despite all my protests, things had just started to happen, and my voice had been ignored. Mitch had contacted both the local authorities and those in Australia, and in a very short space of time I had found myself being questioned at great length about how I got to New Zealand, who made up the forged documents for me, and what I knew about Bruce Whittaker. I kept answering that I didn’t know, and the questions were put to me several different ways, by different people using different words and different tones of voice, but I just kept telling them that I didn’t know. My medical records from the hospital were perused, and I authorised my counsellor to talk to the investigators, to explain that I had never changed my story, and eventually I thought there was some grudging acceptance that I really did have memory loss. However, that did not absolve me of crimes in the eyes of some of the people I was dealing with, I was sure that many of them thought I must have been a willing accomplice to my kidnapping, and that it was only a quirk of fate that killed Bruce and kept me from
remembering what we had done with the money. Mitch had looked at Bruce’s passport, but didn’t recognize him, and then the police had taken possession of the passport to try to work out his real identity. Mitch quickly obtained the DNA test which confirmed what we both knew anyway, Michelle was his daughter. Mitch had taken a house in Auckland while he put his lawyers to work, and he set up rooms for Michelle and myself in the house, having our personal belongings moved to our rooms. I thought he only tolerated me as he needed me there for Michelle, but I was determined that wherever Michelle went, I went too, so I had to co-operate with him. I barely saw him as it was, he refused to leave New Zealand until Michelle could travel with him, so he spent most of his time on the phone, and in web conferences, taking care of whatever business he needed to do, so he was busy. The only triumph I got, was when it came to the issue of Michelle’s passport.
“What do you mean it has to be issued in the name of Whittaker? She’s my daughter, the DNA test proved that!” Mitch stormed, ranting at the local lawyer who had dared to bring him the bad news.
“That may be so, but her birth certificate was issued recording the name of Bruce Whittaker as her father. You will have to go through legal channels to get that changed, and that takes time. You should be able to get it done, especially as it’s unlikely that Bruce Whittaker was his real name, but if you want to travel overseas with the child in the near future, her passport will have to be issued in her legal name, and only her legal guardian can sign the forms”.
I stared at Mitch, feeling a glow of triumph. He might hate me, his employees might treat me with disdain, but if he wanted his daughter, then he needed me. Both Mitch and his lawyer looked at me. It was at that moment that I realised there was only one way to safeguard my relationship with my daughter.
Forgotten Husband Page 3
