The Daughter by Liz Webb

Author:Liz Webb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allison and Busby
Published: 2022-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I experience the oblivion of a ten-hour dreamless sleep. I know the truth about Dad’s guilt and Reece knows the truth about mine, but I feel deadened. Chris is right, ‘closure’ is vastly overrated.

Checking my mobile, I see that Anastasia has sorted the power of attorney and already forwarded me the details of a therapist and the address of my closest AA meeting. I erase both. I see another missed call from Chris and that he’s left another message.

‘Hi Hannah, I just wanted to say that I get that you ignored my last message. Hanging up on a phone call is a serious violation of finishing-school etiquette. Hence – you were right to ignore my first apology. But please accept my second one.’

I smile but erase the message.

I go round the house collecting up every bottle, empty and full, and deposit them all in the bins outside. Reece is right about one thing: me stopping drinking. I’ll need all my reserves to help Dad through these last days.

I hear some post dribbling onto the floor downstairs. The usual guff of flyers. And a sharp-cornered official envelope. DNA results. I edge my thumb under the sticky flap and pull out the folded white paper. Skimming over the words, I zero in on the bolded section: 0% Chance of Paternity. ‘Dad’ definitely isn’t my dad. Nothing’s changed and yet everything’s changed. He still brought me up, he still feels like my dad. But a solid truth that I never doubted has been exploded. It’s like someone saying that Hawaii doesn’t exist. Nothing’s changed per se, cos I’ve never been there and never plan to go – but how did I believe in its existence for all these years. As I dress, I chuck the tissue with Reece’s DNA in the bin. He’s right: looking back only destroys me and alienates everyone. I need to move forward.

Marcus arrives at midday to oversee the delivery of the hospital bed. He’s in his element lugging stuff about, so confident, so capable. He directs two bald-headed, paunchy men to bring the bed into the lounge, where he’s pushed back the settee to make room. It’s a big professional-looking hospital bed and looks imposing even back against the wall.

‘Sign here, Mr Roberts,’ says the taller guy, and Marcus signs the proffered forms.

‘Are you happy with it all, Mrs Roberts?’ says the smaller guy to me. I lock eyes with Marcus and we both smirk at the man’s mistake. Marcus puts his arm round me in a husbandly fashion and I look up at him like a loving fifties wife in an ad, then we giggle conspiratorially.

‘Yes thanks, it’s great,’ I say. Marcus is the one sliver of silver lining left after all the hurricanes have passed. Reece and ‘Dad’ can’t take him from me.

‘So, are you all set, Mrs Roberts?’ asks Marcus as the front door closes behind the departing men.

‘Pretty much, Mr Roberts.’

We grin at each other.

‘Oh, but before you go, could you un-jam a couple of doors for me?’

I don’t want any more locked doors or secrets in this house.

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