S: So what about in the real world, where Mark is Mia’s father?
H: I honestly don’t know. If Mark and I were to split up, who would she be best living with out of the two of us? Me, her mum’s sister, or Mark, the father she thinks is her uncle? Dad would usually trump aunt in such a situation, but what if we decide now’s not the right time to tell her the truth about her parentage, in light of everything else she’s been through? Then I’d be the blood relative, as far as she was concerned, not Mark.
S: You’ve clearly given this some thought already.
H: It’s all I can think about. Laura and Ralph, the couple I’m staying with, tried and failed to have kids via IVF. It sounds awful, but I remember a tiny part of me secretly feeling glad when she didn’t get pregnant, because I knew I’d be envious of her if she did. I’ve never told anyone that before. I was feeling guilty about it as I lay in their spare bed last night after they’d both been so kind and welcoming to me. It made me realise how much I have always wanted children, even though I tried my utmost to bury that desire for the sake of my marriage. How ironic is that, considering what we now know about my husband? Honestly, what I really need at the moment is for someone to tell me what to do next to find my way out of this appalling situation. But you’re not going to do that, are you?
S: It’s not my place to tell you what to do, Hannah. But hopefully talking it through here with me will help guide you towards your own solution.
H: Mark wants to talk, in person preferably. I can’t face that today, but maybe tomorrow. Any advice you can offer about that?
S: It sounds like a good idea, but I’d suggest doing it somewhere neutral and public rather than at home. These kinds of discussions often work best that way. It helps both parties to stay calm when otherwise they might get overly emotional.
H: Okay. The thought of seeing him terrifies and repulses me at this moment, but there’s too much at stake not to do it. He claims what happened isn’t as straightforward as it might appear, but that’s what cheats always say, right?
S: Meet him. Tell him honestly how you feel. Hear him out, if you can. You never know.
H: I’ll try. Thank you, Sally. This does feel like it’s helped.
S: That’s good to hear. I wish you all the very best with it. Hopefully things can only get better from here.
CHAPTER 24
Hannah looked out of the rain-flecked window of the tram as it darted through some of Manchester’s more gritty northern suburbs on its way back to the affluent city centre.
Laura and Ralph’s home in Prestwich was lovely, located a stone’s throw away from the sprawling green of Heaton Park; the same couldn’t be said for some of the rundown, litter-strewn spots currently jarring her vision. So Hannah closed her eyes and thought back to the time she’d spent walking and thinking in the park after returning from her session with Sally yesterday, before her temporary hosts had got back from work. She’d cut a solitary figure among the many local families making the most of the warm weather and school holidays, playing and relaxing in the pleasant, leafy surroundings.
Today, in sharp contrast, it felt like autumn: a grey nothingness up above, spitting out constant drizzle. This remained true when Hannah exited the tram at Piccadilly Gardens a short while later, but it didn’t seem to matter so much, thanks to the improved backdrop of busy shops, bars and restaurants that felt like home.
She’d phoned Laura’s mobile after leaving the apartment building on Thursday evening and, thank goodness, her old friend had answered straight away.
‘Are you home?’ she’d blurted out. ‘I’m in a bit of a mess and, I hate to ask, but is there any chance I could come to stay tonight?’
Laura had agreed instantly, which was amazing of her considering how little they’d seen each other of late, and one night had turned into two. ‘Stay as long as you need to,’ Laura had told her that first night after they’d had a weepy heart-to-heart over the kitchen table, Ralph having made himself scarce. ‘We’ve plenty of room. It’s absolutely fine, honestly.’
Unsurprisingly, Laura had been shocked to hear everything that had happened; particularly the bits about Diane’s apparent suicide and Mark being the father of Hannah’s teenage niece.
‘Oh my God, Han,’ she’d said, her jaw on the floor. ‘You poor thing. No wonder you needed some space. I can hardly believe it all. I mean, I never knew your sister, but … Mark … I’m dumbstruck. I’d never have guessed he could do something like this to you. I didn’t have him pegged as that kind of person. Not for a moment. Ralph and I have always thought of you two as such a strong, well-matched couple. I’m … well, I don’t know what to say. Did you ever have any clue or—’
‘No. I didn’t think he was that kind of man either. I’ve never worried about Mark cheating, especially not with my twin sister. To be honest, I always thought they didn’t like each other. More fool me.’
Laura had squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘Has Mark given you, um, any kind of explanation? I mean, I’m not saying it might be justifiable in any way, but it seems so out of character. Do you think it was a full-blown affair or a one-night thing? And how long has he known about Mia being his daughter?’
Hannah had shaken her head and sighed. She’d felt utterly drained. Beyond tears. ‘He claims it only happened once and never with anyone else. He left me a voicemail saying something about it not being straightforward and wanting to explain. But how can I believe a word he tells me ever again? As for Mia, I don’t think he knew about being her father until very recently. Diane’s letter, which she wrote in our apartment before heading back to Bournemouth, seemed to be telling him about it for the first time. And yet there was a reference to him suspecting it in the past, at which point she’d denied it.’
‘Right. And do you think her coming clean to him was linked to why she killed herself?’
‘I guess it must be, Laura. That and leaving Mia with us like she did. There was definitely something going on with her. But do you know what? I’m not sure I even want to know the details. My relationship with Diane was damaged enough before this latest revelation. Now I’m struggling to feel anything but anger and hatred when I think of her.’
Soon after that Hannah had gone to bed in Laura and Ralph’s comfortable, well-appointed spare room. But neither the nice surroundings nor her tiredness had aided her sleep, which had been as fitful that night as the next, filled with nightmares of failure and frustration. Most had since slipped away from her memory, as dreams are wont to do, but the crux of one still remained. It had been about the release of her novel, which had been such a huge flop that a truck filled with thousands of unsold copies had arrived outside her apartment, with the driver insisting she took delivery of the lot.
She still vividly remembered the climax of the dream, when she’d screamed: ‘What the hell am I supposed to do with them? I can’t possibly store all of these books.’
‘You should have thought of that before you wrote something so terrible,’ the driver had snarled in reply, slapping his clipboard and pen into her hands for a signature.
Strangely, neither Mark nor Diane had featured at all, despite the two of them being at the forefront of her conscious thoughts.
After waking from this particular nightmare, Hannah had been unable to sleep for a long stretch. During this time – probably because she was at Laura’s house – her mind had skipped back to that car-crash moment at her old work, when she’d made such an idiot of herself in public.
She and Laura had both been in an important meeting with several other colleagues, including two senior managers, plus a set of key clients. One of these clients, a particularly demanding type, had criticised some copy she’d worked hard on, grinning as he did so, seemingly jeering at her. Without warning, a fury had erupted from deep within. She’d jumped to her feet in the boardroom, hurled her notes and pen against the window and called him a ‘self-righteous prick’ who should try writing the bloody thing himself next time. As if that wasn’
t bad enough, before storming out of there, she’d told everyone in the room, all gaping at her in disbelief, that they were ‘phonies spouting bullshit’ and the whole advertising industry was ‘a bloody con, a meaningless waste of time’.
They’d have definitely fired her if it hadn’t been for lovely Laura speaking up on her behalf, explaining about the stress she’d been going through as a result of her mother’s death and then her falling-out with Diane. Instead Hannah had been advised to see a doctor, who’d signed her off work on stress and referred her for counselling. A couple of months later, having reached the conclusion that she never wanted to return there, she’d offered her resignation and they’d accepted. Remembering the incident still made Hannah shudder to this day. It also reminded her of how low she’d felt afterwards, before the writing had given her a new purpose, to the extent that she’d even had the odd suicidal thought. Were she and Diane so different after all?
Hannah had spoken to her dad several times while in Prestwich, but she hadn’t let on that she wasn’t at home. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him. He had enough to deal with at her sister’s house in Bournemouth, where he and Joan were busy trying to piece together what had happened to lead Diane to kill herself in such a drastic and brutal manner. Her sister had disliked their stepmother even more than Hannah did; a small part of her saw the black humour in the idea of Diane shaking her fists from beyond the grave as Joan rooted through her knicker drawer and other personal items.
One significant find so far had been a series of hospital letters tucked under her mattress. Joan had found these, according to Frank, which hadn’t surprised Hannah in the slightest. If ever there was someone likely to root out a good hiding spot, it was her devious stepmum. Anyway, they seemed to point to her having some kind of cancer, which was a shock to all of them.
‘She never said anything to you, Dad?’ Hannah had asked. ‘Nothing to suggest she was unwell?’
‘No, definitely not. How did she look when she came up to Manchester?’
‘Well, older than I remember, but that’s hardly a surprise after so long. Thinner than she used to be; a bit frazzled. She was worked up about something. She mentioned being in a big mess, which was why she wanted to leave Mia with us. But she never let on what was wrong. My first guess was money trouble, but now I think about it she could have been ill.’
‘What about Mia?’ Frank had asked next. ‘She must have known if her mum had cancer.’
‘I doubt it. I’m sure she’d have said something if so.’
‘Is she there? Can you ask her?’
‘Um, no. She’s popped out. I’ll mention it later on, though.’
Frank had sounded surprisingly together, compared to the awful state he’d been in after Hannah’s mum had died. He was most likely operating on autopilot; keeping busy rather than allowing his mind to dwell on the brutal reality of his daughter’s death. The last thing he’d said to her on the phone was that he would pass the letters on to the police and the coroner in the hope they might be useful in terms of reaching a verdict at the eventual inquest.
Meanwhile, Hannah hadn’t spoken to her husband once since walking out on him. He’d phoned her plenty of times, but she’d been ignoring all of his calls. He’d eventually managed to work out where she’d gone, apparently contacting Ralph directly for confirmation.
‘I hope you don’t mind that I told him,’ Ralph had said to her afterwards. ‘His call took me by surprise and, well, he sounded really worried. I did advise him not to come here, though; to give you some space.’
She’d told Mark the same by text message. He’d agreed not to come to Prestwich, but in return he’d asked her to meet him in a neutral place today so they could talk. That was where she was heading now, this busy Saturday morning, to a café they’d been to together a couple of times previously on the edge of the Northern Quarter. It was one of those places frequented during the week by trendy young folk with fat headphones and skinny laptops. She’d even tried writing in there a couple of times when she’d felt a bit cabin-feverish in the apartment. But weekends drew in a more chatty, social bunch – young lovebirds and the like – the thought of which made Hannah feel sick as she walked the last few yards as slowly as she could, dreading seeing Mark.
Why had she agreed to meet him? Mia, an innocent party in the whole mess, was the main reason. Despite everything, she was still her niece and she’d just lost her mother. Hannah wasn’t about to abandon her – not for more than a couple of days anyway – and so that needed discussing, even though she’d rather not see her husband yet or hear whatever excuses he had to offer. She wondered how Mark had managed juggling work and Mia yesterday. Surely he hadn’t gone in as usual and left her alone for the whole day at a time when she was so vulnerable.
Would she be returning home after this meeting or not? She could do with popping in to get some fresh clothes at least, but she couldn’t see further than that right now. Maybe she ought to have kicked Mark out and been the one to stay. That was still a possibility. But if he was Mia’s father, she should be with him, right? Plus Hannah had felt stifled at home, where she spent most of her time anyway.
She’d needed to get away to find some breathing space, which Laura and Ralph had been good enough to provide. It was the first time she’d seen Ralph in ages, as the last few occasions she’d met up with Laura – also fairly infrequently – it had been the two of them over a coffee in town.
So why was it Laura she’d turned to at her time of need, despite not being as close to her now as previously? In truth, other than Kathy who lived too nearby, there wasn’t really anyone else. In between jacking in her job, overcoming her breakdown and carving out a new career for herself, she hadn’t had much time for friends, old or new. Her life these days revolved around Mark – her supposed rock, lover and best friend – plus the fictional characters she created in her books. Or should she say book? It wasn’t like she’d made any meaningful progress on her second novel in recent days. Her mind was far too preoccupied with the real-life drama erupting all around her.
Anyway, the last thing Laura had said to her, having walked her to the tram stop this morning, was that she was welcome to return and stay for longer. ‘If you want to come back; if it doesn’t feel right, just do it. It’s no problem at all, seriously.’
Walking through the rain, her mind awash with all these thoughts and recent memories, Hannah almost stepped out in front of a black cab while trying to cross one of the city centre’s busy roads.
The sound of its horn blaring jolted her back into the moment. She saw the driver shaking his fist and mouthing something unpleasant at her through the windscreen as time froze for an instant. And then he was gone. Hannah was jostled back on her way by a musty-smelling mass of damp pedestrians even more eager than usual to get where they were going to escape the wet.
Soon she was outside the café and peering through the glass door at the bustling sales counter, awash with cellophane-wrapped snacks under the shadow of steaming, gleaming coffee machines. She took a deep breath. Thought about turning on her heel and walking away. She could use this opportunity to whip into the apartment while Mark was out and grab some more stuff, couldn’t she? It was sorely tempting, but no: she had to do this.
Before she had a chance to change her mind, she bit down on her bottom lip and strode through the door. She scanned the large, high-ceilinged room with its exposed brickwork and wooden floors. And then, in among the chattering clientele, she saw him stand up and wave to her from a far corner. Neither of them smiled as she walked over to the brown leather booth he’d selected and sat down opposite him with a curt, ‘Hello’.
He sat down too. ‘Hi, Hannah. Thanks so much for coming. I, er, wasn’t sure you would. How’ve you been?’
She resisted the temptation to confirm that she nearly hadn’t come. ‘How do you think I’ve been?’
‘Right. Yeah, sorry. Stupid question. Can I get you a drink or anything else?’
‘In
a minute. What about Mia? Where is she at the moment? How’s she coping?’
‘She’s round at Kathy’s with, um, whatsisname.’
‘Todd?’
‘Exactly. She’s okay. Pretty quiet. Not really talking too much about anything. I’ve made sure she’s not been on her own, other than in her bedroom and stuff. I haven’t told her anything yet about, um, you know what. I said we’d had a row but didn’t elaborate. I know you want me to tell her soon, but it would be too much for her at the moment. I’m certain of that.’
‘Right.’
He hesitated before going on: ‘I did tell her about Pete. I, er, thought it might be of some use to her to know I’d been through a loss too when I was a child. It seemed to help.’
Hannah nodded in silence. This actually sounded like quite a good idea, but she wasn’t about to congratulate him for it.
‘How are things going down in Bournemouth?’ he asked. ‘Any talk yet of when the funeral might be?’ Mark’s hands were intertwined in front of him, like he was trying to keep them from fidgeting; his elbows were resting on the edge of the table.
My Sister's Lies Page 23
