Five Unforgivable Things

by Vivien Brown

  ‘I’m sorry, Kate,’ Dan said. ‘Really sorry. I didn’t want you to find out like this. But I had no choice. Her mum … Fiona …’ He lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. ‘She’s dead.’

  ‘Dead? How can she be dead?’

  ‘An accident. She was running to her car, after work. Not looking properly, or couldn’t see because of the rain, I don’t know. She got hit by a bus, Kate. Right outside the office. Some of the girls went out to have a nose as soon as they heard the crash and realised it was her, but there was nothing anyone could do. The ambulance came quickly but she didn’t even make it as far as the hospital.’

  ‘Oh, my God.’ Instantly, my mind flashed back to that other accident, five years earlier. To Natalie, lying in the road, crushed and broken. To that mental image I had never quite managed to shift, even though it was entirely of my own making.

  My heart was pounding so hard I swear I could hear it, even above the rain that was once again thumping against the windows. Oh, God, not again. But this time, this time …

  This child was alive. Not dead, like her mother. Not hurt, like Nat. But motherless and probably utterly unaware of what that meant. I didn’t know her, didn’t know anything about her, except that she was so clearly Dan’s. But I couldn’t stand by and do nothing to help her. She was so small and she looked so scared, and so lost. What if she had been Beth or Natalie? Or Rosie? If it had been me who had died, I would have wanted someone to help them.

  I stepped forward and took hold of her tiny hand as the other gripped her toy even more tightly, and led her to the sofa, pulling a cushion underneath her head as she curled up, sleepily, into a ball.

  I should have been thinking all kinds of things. How could he be doing this? Bringing his child here? His secret child? I should have been shouting at Dan. But how could I?

  ‘She shouldn’t be listening to any of this. Poor little mite.’

  ‘No, she shouldn’t. But I need to explain …’

  ‘Explain away! If you think you can. Because it’s pretty obvious she’s yours, Dan. And she’s what? Three? Just forgot to mention her, did you, all this time?

  I looked across to where Jenny had already fallen asleep, her toy rabbit pressed against her cheek, as Dan sank into a chair and closed his eyes.

  ‘Later, Kate, eh? Can we leave all that until later? It’s been a terrible shock, seeing Fiona like that. Dead, right in front of my eyes, her bag open and everything chucked all over the road, one shoe off, her hair all covered in blood. It was horrible, gut-wrenching. Poor, poor Fiona …’

  I didn’t know what to say, what to feel.

  ‘I went straight to the childminder’s. Well, someone had to, and it was better than the police going, which was what was being suggested. But now … I haven’t even had the courage to tell her what’s happened yet, not that I have any idea how. Angels, stars in the sky, I don’t know. And now I have to work out what to do with her …’

  ‘Do with her?’

  ‘Yes. Make plans, decide what’s going to happen to her. Tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that. For ever. Fiona’s parents are long dead, and she had one brother who lives in Canada. The hospital is contacting him about … well, her body, you know, but they weren’t close and he’s never even met Jenny. And I’m her daddy. Like it or not, I’m all she has, Kate, and I need to talk to the brother and then decide what happens now. To her life, her future …’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I suppose it’s going to be largely down to you. How you feel. Whether you think you might …’

  ‘What? Have her here, you mean? Your bastard child, living here? With us?’

  ‘Don’t call her that. None of this is her fault,’

  ‘I know that. I think we both know whose fault it is, don’t we? But a child! You had another child and you didn’t think to tell me. So, where has she been all this time? Have you been visiting her? Taking her to the park, like the others? Buying birthday presents? Christmas? Paying maintenance? ‘

  ‘Yes, sometimes. Some of those things. All of those things. When Fiona would let me, anyway, which wasn’t often. She didn’t want me to have much to do with her really. With either of them. Certainly didn’t want to take my money, in case it gave me ‘rights’. Thinking about it, I was probably just a convenient sperm supplier.’

  ‘And it’s not as if we don’t know all about that, is it? At least this time it didn’t involve a cubicle and a pile of mucky magazines.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Honestly, Dan, do you really think I want to hear all this stuff? Are you expecting me to actually feel sorry for you or something?’

  ‘Of course not. I just feel as if maybe she planned to get pregnant and then cut me out all along. I was used, if you like … But I am on the birth certificate. I insisted on that much. No child wants to grow up not knowing where they came from, do they? Believe me, Kate, I didn’t lie. Not at first. I really had no idea Fiona was pregnant when I told you about the affair, or when she ended it.’

  ‘Hang on a minute. She ended it? You let me believe it was your decision. You’d been a fool, you said. Only wanted me …’

  ‘Does it actually matter who ended what? It was over, and I did want you. She was pregnant, okay, and she didn’t tell me. Not for months. And then, when she did … You and me, we were getting back on track. You’d forgiven me, let me stay, life was better. Why would I want to ruin all that? ‘

  ‘So you said nothing? What I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me, is that it?’

  Dan nodded.

  ‘Well, I know now, don’t I?’

  Dan seemed to crumple before my eyes, his face a deathly white and his eyes now gazing up at me, brimming with unshed tears. I didn’t know if it was the weight of responsibility coming down so suddenly on his shoulders or if it was the shock, or grief even, of losing Fiona. He had cared about her once, after all. Perhaps loved her, a little. Enough to produce a child together. This child.

  We both sat in silence for what felt like ages, just staring blankly at each other, but that wasn’t going to make things happen, was it? I stood up. ‘Tea. I’m going to make you some tea now. With a drop of brandy in it.’ I reached down to the electric socket and switched off the iron that I had forgotten was still on, and went into the kitchen. Clutching the edge of the worktop as I waited for the kettle to boil, I jumped as another loud crack of thunder echoed around the house. Before it had rolled away into the distance, it was replaced by the chilling sound of Dan’s wracking sobs growing ever louder and more desperate from the other side of the wall.

  I didn’t know what to do. How is a wife supposed to deal with the grief her husband feels at the death of another woman? Help him through the loss of someone she has never met and never wanted to meet? What is she supposed to feel for a child, a confused and innocent child, who she has only just met but wished had never been born?

  I took Dan his tea. We didn’t have any brandy but I found an inch or two of rum in the bottom of a bottle Trevor must have left behind at Christmas, and dowsed it with that. And then I held him as tightly as I could as he shook, and listened to the rain pounding at the windows, and stared at Jenny, curled up asleep on our sofa, unaware that she had a half-brother and two half-sisters sleeping upstairs, and tried not to think too much about what might happen in the morning.

  ***

  The kids loved her from the start. Perhaps, at eight, they were too young to question too closely where she’d come from, how she had the same daddy as they did, where she had been until now. We didn’t try to keep secrets from them. Whenever a conversation ran that way, we were as open as we could be. They all knew that Jenny’s mummy had died and that she was here to stay. When she cried, they hugged her and shared their toys. Ollie ignored her and huffed to himself when she played with her dolls, treating her just the same way he did the others, and Beth would grab a brush and play with her hair, as if Jenny was a doll herself, and Nat gave her wheelchair rides. She was one of them, a sister, almos
t instantly, and I wasn’t at all sure how I felt about that.

  ‘Right!’ Trevor said, one afternoon, when we’d struggled by for weeks, all three girls crammed into the one bedroom, with boxes of toys and clothes piled so high they could hardly see out of the window. ‘This can’t go on, can it? And you having to carry Natalie up and down the stairs every day. It’s far from ideal. The girl’s getting past all that. She needs her chair with her, not out of reach for eight hours of the day. And she needs space. They all need space.’

  ‘Well, we can’t magic up another room we don’t have.’ Dan ran his hands through his hair in exasperation and took a swig from a big mug of tea Mum had handed him ten minutes ago and that was already almost cold. ‘And Ollie’s room’s hardly big enough to swing a cat.’

  ‘I’m not talking about Ollie’s room. That one’s called a box room for a reason! But boys manage. They get by, don’t they? I know I did when I was growing up. A few pairs of trousers, a handful of t-shirts and pants, and room to slide the train set under the bed. What more does a boy need? The lad spends most of his waking hours outside kicking a ball about anyway. No, it’s the girls we have to think about.’

  ‘I think about nothing else. What I’ve done to my family. I know it’s all down to me, Trev. Bringing Jenny here, expecting to just fit her into our lives …’

  ‘What else could you have done, Dan? And the little mite is fitting in, isn’t she? Remarkably well. Now, tell me to keep my nose out if you like, but I’ve been thinking about the bedroom dilemma, and to my mind there’s only one solution. The garage.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Convert it. It’s plenty big enough to make another room, probably a bathroom too, or a small one anyway. And when did you last actually park the car in it?’

  ‘Never. A car the size of ours won’t fit.’

  ‘Exactly. What’s in there? Piles of old junk, I bet. Stuff you haven’t looked at in years. A ladder you never climb. Garden tools that could just as easily fit into a shed. Come on, let’s take a look, shall we?’ Trevor stood up and beckoned for Dan to follow.

  A squeal came from the direction of the back garden as the kids ran around playing some new chasing game Ollie had invented and which he always seemed to win.

  ‘I know Trevor means well, but we can’t afford it, Mum.’ I went into the kitchen to make another pot of tea and to keep an eye on them through the window, and she came in behind me. ‘I know it’s probably a great idea, but it will cost thousands, won’t it? Tens of thousands, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘I don’t think you have to worry about that, love. Trevor and I have been talking and … well, you’re his family now. It’s not as if he has any children or grandchildren of his own, and he’s grown very fond of you all. Ollie in particular, though he hasn’t said as much, what with the chess and everything. He wants to help you, Kate. Whatever it costs, he’s going to pay for it.’

  ‘No! That’s far too generous.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But who else are we going to leave our money to, if not you and the kids? Better you have some of the benefit now and we see you enjoy it, than after we’re gone.’

  ‘Gone? Mum, you’re still young. You’ve got years yet.’

  ‘After Trevor’s heart scare, who knows? Treat every day as if it could be your last …’

  ‘But you might need that money to travel, to have some fun of your own. And what if you get dry rot in the house or the roof falls in or something?’

  ‘Ha! Insurance. That’s what it’s for. And we’re certainly not keeping money aside for the what-ifs of life when there’s a real problem very much in need of sorting out here and now.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’ I reached for the biscuit tin and prised off the lid, automatically selecting a handful of non-chocolate-covered ones to take outside to the kids, then making up a jug of weak orange squash.

  ‘Then don’t say anything. Just thank you. That’s all Trevor will want to hear.’

  ‘But I was so mean to him, for so long. I didn’t give him a chance, did I? I didn’t like him, just because he wasn’t Dad.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘And now … well, I feel a bit ashamed, to be honest. He’s all right, isn’t he? And Dad wasn’t quite the saint I wanted him to be, after all. That’s the trouble with putting people on pedestals. Sometimes they topple off.’

  ***

  Trevor. How could I have been so wrong about Trevor? And the way I treated him! It was as if I hadn’t felt confident enough in my mother’s judgment, in her right to make her own choices. In my head, only what I thought, felt, imagined, had ever mattered. But she loved this man, and I had to admit that, finally, I could see why.

  All those years I tried to avoid him, ignore him, wish he would just up and go away. He wasn’t my dad. That was the only reason. A selfish, stupid reason. He had given us the money to allow us to pursue our dream, and there he was doing it again.

  Of all the bad things, the reckless decisions, the wrong turns that had shaped my life, this was the one I could put right. I could open the doors and let him in, the way Mum had, the way Ollie had. Let him be a proper part of the family, the stepdad and granddad he so clearly wanted to be, and deserved to be.

  How was I to know I would never get the chance?

  ***

  Mum patted my arm and sank into a chair. ‘I loved him, Kate. Your dad, God rest his soul. Just as much as you did. More. But I love Trevor too. It is possible, you know, to love someone else, to let someone step into the shoes of the one who’s died. If you let yourself …’

  ‘You’re thinking about me and Jenny now, aren’t you? She’s never going to be my little Rosie, is she? Never going to take her place. Nobody can. And I’m not sure I can love her the way I love my own kids, but ….’

  ‘I know. But I also know you’ll try.’

  ‘How’s she going to see me, though? The stepmother, the interloper, the one who’s trying to replace her real mum but never really can?’

  ‘You may not be her biological mum, love, but you can be the next best thing. Give her a home and a loving family, the stability she needs. It won’t be easy, but people do it all the time, take on stepchildren, merge families together. And she’s still young enough to adapt. Maybe not to forget her own mum entirely, but you’ll be the one who’s there for her now, and in the years ahead.’

  ‘I can be her Trevor, you mean?’

  ‘Ha! If you like, but let’s hope it doesn’t take her quite so long to accept you as it took you to accept him, eh?’

  ‘It’s the other way around that worries me, Mum. I just hope, for her sake, that I can accept her. A child who is always going to remind me that my husband cheated on me. One who looks like another woman instead of me, but with Dan’s hair, Dan’s smile. It’s not going to be easy, is it? Loving another woman’s child. That woman’s child …’

  Chapter 44

  Ollie, 2017

  Ollie watched from his newly acquired seat in the front pew as his sister made her vows. Beside him, his mum was weeping silently into a tissue, which she clutched in a screwed-up ball in one hand, her eyes never leaving his dad’s face.

  The final hymn over, the vicar gestured for everyone to sit. The organ music started up again and the vicar led the bride and groom, followed by the bridesmaids and best man, into a room at the side, to sign the register. His dad looked like he wasn’t sure what to do next, which wasn’t surprising, as he hadn’t been at the rehearsal, but Mum stood up quickly, tottering on her new high heels, stepped forward and gripped his arm, and they went in together, closing the door behind them. Ollie wasn’t sure who was supporting who.

  By the time they all emerged into the last of the weak December sun, Nat had slipped a fluffy stole around her shoulders and Phil was edging her chair down the bump from path to grass, dodging a gravestone as they went, ready to pose for the photos.

  Fifteen minutes later, with the parents of the bride and the close family groups d
one, his mum struggling to pull one of her heels out from where it had stuck in the grass and both bridesmaids eyeing up one of Phil’s extremely well-built mates, it took Ollie a while to realise that his dad was no longer there.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ He held on to his mum’s arm and helped her steady herself as her shoe pulled free. ‘Not gone already?’

  ‘He couldn’t miss seeing Natalie married, but you know he couldn’t stay. He should never have left the ward, but you know your dad …’

  ‘You mean he just walked out? Without permission?’ Ollie’s voice had risen loud enough for several guests to turn around in alarm.

  ‘Sssh. Not now, Ollie.’ She gave him a stern look. ‘No need for everyone to know our business. And we don’t want to spoil your sister’s big day.’

  ‘Come on, Mum. Dad turning up like that has made her day, but what’s it done to him? Will he be okay, do you think? Shouldn’t one of us have gone back with him?’

  ‘He had a taxi take him from the hospital to the flat for his suit and bring him here, and he’d arranged for the same driver to come and collect him. He just needed to slip away and get back to his bed.’

  The photographer was calling the whole group together for one last enormous photo, and Ollie was quickly pulled into his place in the line. His dad may have been missing from this one, but he had never seen Natalie looking more radiant, or more relieved.

  ***

  Ollie came out of the gents and felt for the scraps of paper covered in scribble that were tucked inside his top pocket, making his way back to the top table to tell everyone who was prepared to listen just what a fantastic sister he had and what a lucky man Phil was to have finally taken her off their hands.

  Everyone laughed in all the right places and cheered when he sat down. Ollie sighed. Job done! Now he could whip his tie off and get on with the fun part of the day, relaxing over a few drinks.

  The waiting staff soon cleared the tables and moved them to the sides of the room, and a queue rapidly started to form at the bar.