Diane went on to explain how her cancer diagnosis had been a bolt from the blue just a few weeks earlier. She’d been feeling under the weather for a while – tiredness, weight loss and some niggling stomach pains – but hadn’t thought much of it. The possibility of such slight symptoms being anything serious hadn’t even entered her mind, until she’d finally got around to having them checked out. Her GP had quickly escalated things and, next thing she knew, an oncologist was delivering the devastating news.
‘But how could you hide that from Mia?’ he asked.
‘It’s all happened so quickly, you wouldn’t believe it. I’ve barely got my head around it myself. Mia was at school when I had the hospital appointments. I made the decision not to tell her.’
‘But … who have you told? You can’t do this alone, Diane. How long have you even—’
‘A few months, best-case scenario.’
‘What? Jesus, Diane. And there’s nothing—’
‘It’s incurable.’
‘You have to tell Mia. And what about your dad and Hannah? They’re your family, Diane. They have a right to know. You’ve told your dad at least, right?’
‘No, I don’t want my family watching me die before their eyes. We’ve been through that already with Mum and look where it left us. The trauma ripped us apart.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I want to die on my own terms, before things get too bad. Quick and painless, while I’m still me.’
‘What does that even mean?’ He threw his hands in the air, incredulous. ‘What exactly have you been doing since you left Mia with us, Diane?’
‘Mark? Hello, Earth to Mark!’ The insistent sound of his wife’s voice brought him back to the present: the last place he wanted to be, considering the dilemma he faced.
He blinked and dragged one palm up over his forehead into his freshly washed hair, beads of moisture running into the gaps between his fingers. ‘Sorry, I guess I’m tired,’ he fudged. ‘I’ve had a long couple of days.’
Knowing what he now did about his sister-in-law and the shocking reason for her recent actions, Mark’s gut instinct was – of course – to tell Hannah and Mia the truth. It would be a disastrous conversation, naturally; goodness only knew how Mia would react. She’d probably want to head back down to Bournemouth immediately.
But it wasn’t that simple.
Diane had made it crystal-clear she didn’t want her daughter or sister to know about her condition. She’d also said in no uncertain terms that should he decide to tell them anyway, she would be forced to reveal the truth about him being Mia’s father. Despite Mark pointing out how unfair that was, considering how it had come to pass and the fact he’d only just learned the truth himself, Diane had been insistent.
‘Fair or unfair, that’s how it is,’ she’d said. ‘I absolutely don’t want them to know – and the same goes for my father.’
‘So why have you told me?’ he’d asked. ‘Is this just another way for you to torture me, Diane? You seem to take great pleasure in putting me in impossible situations.’
‘Honestly, this isn’t about you,’ she’d insisted. ‘You came here tonight and, well, telling you suddenly seemed to make a strange kind of sense. But I can’t let that get in the way of how I need things to happen.’
And still Mark wrestled with what to do; what to say. Was protecting his secret, and thus saving his marriage, more important than telling a girl – his own daughter, as it now seemed – her mother was dying? Didn’t he at least owe Hannah the chance to try to make peace with her sister, rather than be haunted by regret for the rest of her life? But how could that ever happen if she found out about his and Diane’s night together? And what would the uncovering of this sordid secret do to Mia?
Dammit, he was in an impossible situation. Lying to Hannah and Mia about what had happened yesterday seemed like the only option for now. However, if either of them later discovered he’d actually known more, that too could prove disastrous. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
‘So, er, yes,’ he found himself saying, although it was like he was outside his body, watching as an observer rather than a participant in the conversation. ‘I did manage to track Diane down yesterday.’
‘You went to our house?’ Mia asked. ‘Is that where you found her?’
‘That’s right. I took a taxi from Bournemouth railway station. Diane wasn’t home when I first arrived, so I got the third degree from your next-door neighbour.’
Mia, who was sitting opposite him, next to Hannah on the sofa, lit up at this. ‘Rod, you mean?’
‘That’s right. Big chap.’ Mark hunched his shoulders forward and clenched his fists in front of his chest. ‘I wouldn’t want to mess with him.’
‘He’s lovely really. He’s just a bit protective of me and Mum.’
‘I noticed.’ Winking in a bid to keep the mood as light as possible, he added: ‘Anyway, luckily Diane got back before he moved on to roughing me up.’
‘How’s she doing?’ Mia asked. She leaned forward, her green eyes all the more piercing for not being circled by her dark make-up.
‘Well …’ he replied, realising the crucial nature of the next few words he would utter. He looked at the concern etched into the teenager’s face and wondered, not for the first time, whether she already had some idea her mother was ill. Diane may not have told her anything, but she was a bright kid. She must have been wondering what had led her mum – the person who’d single-handedly brought her up – to suddenly take the drastic measure of driving all the way to Manchester and leaving her here, with him and Hannah.
‘We had a good long chat,’ he continued. ‘So much so that I missed the last train back to Southampton and had to stay the night in your spare room. Luckily your mum was good enough to give me a lift to the station early this morning.’
He looked at Hannah as he said this, knowing she was hearing it for the first time; she looked confused and surprised rather than angry, which was probably as good as he could hope for in the circumstances. He realised he probably ought to have mentioned it when they’d spoken on the phone earlier. But he’d bottled out, keeping the conversation deliberately short and blaming it on being busy with work.
‘Did she say when I can go home?’ Mia asked. ‘Has she got herself sorted out?’
Mark took a deep breath, but before he could continue, he was interrupted by the sound of Hannah’s mobile phone ringing.
He looked at his wife, expecting her to answer it or at least check who was calling, but she waved her hand dismissively and told him to ignore it. ‘If it’s important, they’ll leave a voicemail,’ she said.
But no sooner had the ringing stopped than it started up again. And when this happened another time, Hannah frowned and walked across the room to her desk, where she pulled the mobile out of her handbag and announced: ‘That’s odd. It’s Dad.’
‘I thought he was on a cruise in the Med,’ Mark replied, but by that point Hannah had already answered the call.
As she strode out into the hallway with the phone to her ear, he heard her ask her father if everything was all right, before requesting him to slow down because she couldn’t understand what he was saying. Then there was the sound of a door opening and shutting, which Mark took to mean she’d gone into the bedroom. While this wasn’t particularly unusual behaviour – Hannah often lay on the bed to take phone calls she knew might last a while – Mark had a bad feeling. Frank didn’t call very often, especially not when he was away on holiday. There had to be something wrong.
‘Do you think everything’s okay?’ Mia asked him, her furrowed brow giving away her own concerns.
Mark forced his mouth into a smile, which he hoped looked more convincing than it felt. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure it’ll be nothing. I hear you and Hannah went out for dinner yesterday. Somewhere in the Northern Quarter, wasn’t it? Did you enjoy it?’
‘Yes, thanks,’ Mia said.
�
�Good, good. And what have you been up to today? Anything exciting?’
‘Todd and I hung out together for a bit.’
‘That’s nice. It’s great you two get along. Did you—’
Before Mark could ask his question, Mia posed two of her own. ‘Do you think Grandad’s call might be to do with my mum? How was she when you said goodbye to her this morning?’
Mark gulped. ‘What makes you think it’s about Diane, love? It could be anything. Your grandad’s not even in the UK at the moment. It’s probably to do with his holiday. Maybe Joan’s fallen ill or something.’
Mia didn’t appear convinced. The look on her face was locked somewhere between pensive and terrified.
Then they both heard the muffled but unmistakeable sound of Hannah letting out a sudden hair-raising shriek from the other room. They looked at the open doorway of the lounge and then back at each other in perfect sync.
‘That doesn’t sound good,’ Mia whispered. ‘Had you better check on her?’
Mark’s heart was racing so hard he feared she might see it thumping through his fresh grey polo shirt. ‘Yes,’ he said, jumping to his feet.
‘Do you want me to come too?’
‘No, Mia,’ he replied, more abruptly than intended. Adopting a softer tone, he added: ‘I’ve got this. Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing: probably a storm in a teacup.’
She nodded once, remaining where she was on the couch, yet looking unconvinced.
‘Back in a minute,’ he added, before walking to the bedroom with feigned calmness. He paused in front of the closed door, fingertips resting on the cool metal handle, as he listened for a moment but heard nothing. Taking a deep breath, he pressed down and felt the door swing open, revealing a silent Hannah perched on the edge of the bed, her head resting in one hand; the other trembling slightly, but still holding her mobile to her ear. ‘And then?’ she puffed breathlessly into the phone before looking up at Mark with a blank stare: the redness of her tear-soaked eyes like gaping wounds in the sheet-white skin of her face.
‘Is everything okay?’ he mouthed.
She shook her head in slow motion and absent-mindedly waved him away.
Mark nodded, whispering: ‘You know where I am.’ He backed out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind him, and stood in the hallway wondering what on earth was happening and what to do next. He knew Mia would be crying out for answers when he returned to the lounge, yet he had none to give. Despite what he’d told her, he too had a horrible, deep-seated feeling that this was something to do with Diane.
He darted into the main bathroom, locking the door behind him before sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet seat and holding his head in his hands.
What was he doing? Why was he hiding here rather than speaking to Mia? She was his daughter, for goodness’ sake. Wasn’t she? In truth he still hadn’t fully accepted this, despite everything Diane had told him. Even though she’d seemed so sincere, he couldn’t forget the way she’d manipulated him before. Was this genuinely the reason, though, or was he burying his head in the sand and using that as an excuse? Maybe it was a bit of both. God, what a mess everything was in …
Mark had never wanted to have children. He’d decided that years ago – and he had good reason for it, based on the tragedy he’d lived through when only a child himself, which had torn his family to shreds.
He’d always been upfront about this with Hannah. He’d made sure she was okay with it before asking her to marry him. He’d genuinely been prepared to walk away, painful as it would have been, if she hadn’t been able to accept this. Not having children was definitely a compromise on her part. Mark had never kidded himself about this fact. But it had been her choice, rather than something he’d imposed on her. That was important. And they’d had a good life together as a result, full of the kinds of freedoms parents of young children didn’t have: the regular luxury holidays and nights out, for instance. You could even argue that it had granted Hannah the opportunity to pursue her dream of becoming a professional author.
But all of that was, of course, built on a lie when you brought Diane into the picture. Specifically that one illicit night they’d spent together and, as he was now finally starting to accept, the child it had produced.
There was one key moment in his and Hannah’s relationship when Mark had questioned whether she regretted her decision to forego parenthood. And that was after seeing the look in her eyes when she’d taken him to visit Diane and Mia for the first time in hospital. He hadn’t said anything to her at the time. He hadn’t dared to, fearing the answer and where it might lead.
Hannah had soon settled into the role of loving aunt. And how she’d loved that little girl! She’d doted on her, showering her with affection and gifts galore at every opportunity. It had been losing contact with her niece that had smashed one of the biggest cracks in his wife’s psyche following her and Diane’s spat. Young Mia had been a beacon of hope in the devastating wreckage left by her mother’s death. So when that too had been taken away from her, only darkness had remained.
How would Hannah feel about Mia, with whom she was now finally reunited and starting to bond, if she discovered the terrible truth of her origin?
Mark levered his resistant body into a standing position. He walked over to the sink, ran the cold tap and splashed water on his face before staring at himself in the mirror. He searched his tired, unshaven doppelgänger for some hint of Mia and, as he did so, felt a gear shift in his conscience.
He remembered how he’d felt all those years ago, while looking after Mia for a couple of days at Diane’s house. That gut feeling he’d had about her being his daughter – it had been right. And when he’d felt it back then – when it had punched him so hard in the belly he’d been unable to think of anything else – he’d known he had to do right by her, despite all that it might cost him. He’d recognised that he couldn’t run away from his responsibilities like his own dad had. He’d understood that what he wanted wasn’t the most important thing any more.
The same was true now. He was a father. Mia’s father. That mattered more than anything else. It was time for him to stand up and accept his duty.
At that moment his phone, which was on silent in his trouser pocket, announced the arrival of a message with a short vibration. He pulled it out and saw, to his surprise, that it was from Hannah.
Can you come to the bedroom NOW? Need to speak to you alone urgently. Don’t let on to Mia.
CHAPTER 15
Hannah sent the text message and waited. It had been the only way she could think of to get Mark’s attention without also alerting poor, poor Mia. She desperately needed to speak to him alone first, because …
Oh my God. How could this be happening? None of it felt real. Could it be a dream? She wanted to pinch herself, but suddenly all of her limbs felt like lead and the idea of moving even a muscle seemed impossible. What was happening? Was this what extreme shock felt like?
How could Diane have done that? How could she really be …?
Hannah couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought. It was too much. It was incomprehensible. And how could she, of all people, not have sensed that something so horrendous had happened to her own flesh and blood just hours earlier?
Still sitting there on the edge of the bed, where only moments ago she’d been speaking to her dad, she started to feel light-headed. Oh no. Was she going to be sick?
The bedroom door swung open in slow motion and Mark was standing there again, like when she’d sent him away. How long ago was that? It felt like hours.
She opened her mouth to say something. Tried to stand up, but …
Next thing she knew, Hannah was lying on the opposite side of the bed – her own side – feeling groggy. Mark was crouched on the floor at her side.
‘What happened?’ she asked, instinctively trying to sit up, only to feel Mark’s hand on her chest, encouraging her to stay put. ‘I—’
‘Easy,’ he whispered. ‘You f
ainted. Luckily it happened just as I walked in and I managed to catch you.’
‘How long was I—’
‘Only a moment. I carried you over here and laid you down. How do you feel?’
‘Woozy.’
Mark pursed his lips and gave a gentle nod of his head. ‘Exactly. So best not rush to get up again straight away. Close your eyes for a moment, if it helps. I’m right here if you need anything.’
‘Thanks, love. I might just do that.’
She enjoyed a few seconds of peace before the blaring klaxon of reality started up again in her skull and her eyes teared up in response. ‘Oh, Mark!’ she said, wishing she didn’t have to repeat her father’s words out loud; knowing it would only made them more real. ‘Something awful has happened.’
She felt his hand, which was wrapped around hers, stiffen.
‘I … whatever it is, Hannah, I’m here for you. Okay? Take your time. I can see you’re very upset.’
‘Where’s Mia?’ she asked, lowering her voice to the faintest of whispers. ‘I don’t want her to hear this. Not yet. Not before I know what to say.’
‘In the kitchen, I think. Maybe the lounge.’ His reply was also a whisper, but still she warned him to keep it down.
Hannah took a long, slow breath before she spoke again. And when she did, it was even quieter still, delivered straight into her husband’s waiting ear.
He smelled clean from his recent shower – his hair freshly shampooed – and she couldn’t help but think what an awful match that pleasant scent was for the horrendous news she had to impart.
‘It’s Diane. She’s gone.’
Mark’s head jerked back at this. ‘What do you mean? I saw her this morn—’
‘Shh! Keep it down. I’m serious.’
‘Sorry, but what are you talking about? What do mean gone? Gone where?’
An eerie calmness descended on Hannah as the words finally came out. Bizarrely, she imagined herself as a TV news anchor reading from a teleprompter. ‘She’s dead, Mark. She walked out in front of a train this morning. Dad just got a phone call from the police. Her mobile was, um, destroyed in the, er … accident. But somehow they managed to work out who she was and, after breaking into the house, found Dad’s number. Thankfully he had his phone turned on and there was a signal. He’s already busy trying to find a flight home.’
My Sister's Lies Page 17
