The Many Colours of Us by Rachel Burton

Author:Rachel Burton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2017-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

‘What was that about?’ I ask as she comes back into the room.

‘What?’

‘“Don’t be a stranger,”’ I mimic.

I turn away from her. I can’t bear it today.

‘You’re being ridiculous, Julia,’ she says. ‘I just thought he might be good company for you.’

‘I don’t need company.’

‘What’s going on between you two?’ she asks, sitting down in front of me so I can’t ignore her.

I shake my head. ‘Nothing.’

She reaches over to take my hand. ‘Rubbish. I’m your mother. He didn’t come over here to tell me about the Art Salon; that was just a pretext. It was you he wanted to see.’

‘Really?’ The butterflies in my stomach do a little dance. ‘How do you know?’

‘Like I said, I’ve known Edwin his whole life, most of which he spent without his mother. He’s like a son to me, him and his brother. After Robert’s accident…’

She stops as I pull my hand away from her.

‘How cosy for you all,’ I say. ‘You and your surrogate sons all hiding the secret of my paternity.’

‘Julia, it wasn’t like that.’

‘What was it like then, Mum? You tell me what it was like.’

‘Edwin only found out when he took over the firm, by which time he couldn’t tell anyone as he was our lawyer and we told him not to. As far as I’m aware Robert only found out very recently. Besides, I think Robert might have had more pressing things to worry about over the years than who your father was.’

I take a deep breath and ignore the pang of guilt I feel. Of course Robert’s life has been harder than mine. But that’s not the point right now.

‘Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t want to hear all that about how you were scared he’d take me away, or that you were too in love with him or that he cherished his privacy too much. I want to know why you didn’t tell me once I was an adult so I could, at least, make my own mind up about it.’

‘What would you have done if I had told you?’ she asks.

I look at her. ‘I haven’t got a clue. Answer the question. Why didn’t you tell me?’

She leans into the back of her chair, looking down at her hands, which she’s wringing slowly in her lap. I notice for the first time how old her hands look, the beginnings of age spots on the back of them.

We sit like that for what feels like hours but is probably only a moment or two. Just as I think she isn’t going to answer she takes a deep breath in.

‘I was always afraid he’d reject you,’ she says.

‘What?’

‘I was scared that if I let you get to know him, or I told you where he was he’d reject you like he did me. I thought you’d get to know him again and just as you started trusting him he’d reject you for his paintings or he’d start drinking again.’

‘Is that how you felt?’ I ask.

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