Katie

 

Carl pulled up outside mine, and the car wasn’t even stationary as I opened the door.

He took my wrist, held me back. “Katie, wait. I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have… we could go home, talk about this… think things through…”

“Stop,” I said. “I have to ask. I have to know.”

I took a moment to stare at him, and he was worried. Scared. His mouth was tight and his eyes were sad and lost and nothing like the Carl Brooks I worked with all day. But I didn’t have time for that, not right now.

“I have to do this,” I said. “Please, let me go, Carl.” I tugged my wrist from him.

“This is becoming a habit, me spouting my mouth off and sending you running home.”

“This isn’t the same,” I said. And it wasn’t, it wasn’t the same at all. “I’m running for answers, not running away. I’m all in, with you and Rick, whether you spout your mouth off or not. Ok?”

He nodded but didn’t smile. “I’ll wait for you,” he said.

“You don’t have to…”

“I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere, Katie. Take as long as you need.” He put the car in neutral and turned the engine off. “Take all night, I’ll still be right here.”

I managed a weak smile, but my head was already spinning, churning through memories and reflections, my heart in my stomach, all twisted up.

All through the drive back here I’d been grasping for evidence that Carl’s revelation couldn’t possibly be true, struggling to recall the moment I’d first found out my dad didn’t want to know me. That he’d abandoned my mum as a pregnant teenager and said he didn’t want to know either of us. That he knew I was a kid, growing up just a few miles away, that he hadn’t cared enough to want to be there. I knew that, right? I’d known that for as long as I could remember.

And that was the problem. I couldn’t remember ever not knowing that. I couldn’t recall a single conversation from my past that confirmed anything, not for definite, not a single one.

I’d always just known. Just like I’d known how to breathe. Just like I’d known how to walk, and eat, and go to sleep at night. I’d had fantasies that it wasn’t true, that my father was lost or incapacitated, on some adventure somewhere far away rather than being a straight out asshole, but I’d known they were fantasies.

And then one day he’d just shown up. And I’d been angry, upset that he’d taken so long, upset that he hadn’t wanted to know me.

But I’d never said that, not to him. I didn’t know him well enough, didn’t know him at all. I hadn’t sought answers, because I already knew every part of the story I cared to know, and he was too much of a bragging asshole to stoop low enough to apologise, even if I’d have wanted him to.

That’s what I’d thought. Known. That’s what happened. It happened.

“There must be a mistake,” I said. “Mum will probably wet herself when she realises how stupid the question is.” I let out a laugh that sounded fake enough to make me cringe. “I just can’t remember the details. That’s all this is.” I sighed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

His eyes pierced mine. “Forget I’m here, Katie, just concentrate on you.”

I nodded, and then I left him.

Mum was watching TV, some crappy weeknight quiz show after dinner. Her half-finished bowl of pasta was still at her side.

“Hi, sweetheart. Have you eaten? There’s some pasta on the hob.” She turned back to the screen. “Edison! Thomas Edison! He made the lightbulb!” The team on screen got it wrong and she let out a sigh, shook her head. “Dimwits. Where do they even find these people?”

I could only stare at her, at the mum who’d raised me, who’d loved me, who’d always been there. I took a seat on the armchair next to her, perched on the edge like a dithery little bird.

I felt so stupid, so angry at my thumping heart for even considering the need to ask the question. But I did need to.

“Mum, I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth, ok?”

She shot me a glance, and her eyebrows lifted. “What is it? My God, Katie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She paused the TV, turned in her seat to face me.

I took a breath. “He knew who I was, didn’t he? The sperm donor. He knew we were here, that I was here. He knew, right?” I smiled, waiting for her laughter, her look of surprise.

But it didn’t come. She looked like she’d seen a ghost, too.

“What did he say?” Her eyes were so wide. “What did he tell you?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. He didn’t… he never told me anything…” I fiddled with the hem of my skirt. “He did know, right? He knew about me?”

She was quiet.

“Mum, tell me.” I fought the panic. “Did he know about me? He did, didn’t he?”

“It’ll change everything.” Her voice sounded pained and I felt it. She sighed. “We said we wouldn’t dwell on the past… we agreed…”

Her eyes welled up, and I felt horrible. I felt terrible. Guilty and nasty and ungrateful.

“Just tell me,” I said. “Please, Mum, just tell me.”

She shook her head. “He didn’t… I didn’t…”

“You didn’t what?”

She breathed slowly, deeply, closed her eyes. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him.”

My mouth turned dry. “About me? You couldn’t tell him about me? Why not? Why couldn’t you?” My thoughts tumbled, rolling and lurching through my brain. “You mean he didn’t know? He really didn’t know I existed? Didn’t know who I was? Didn’t know anything? Mum, I don’t understand, I don’t…” I swallowed my panic. “Why?”

“Katie, I…”

“Why?” I repeated. “Why couldn’t you tell him?”

She took a moment. “Katie, please try and understand. I was nineteen years old. I was just a kid. I was out of a job, without anyone, without him. I was hurt, and I was scared. That’s why I didn’t tell him.”

The horror. It knocked me right in the gut. “You lied? To me? You lied about me? You lied to him?”

“I didn’t lie to you, Katie…” She looked at me, looked into me. “I just hid the truth. You were young. It didn’t seem right. It never seemed right to tell you.”

“But I knew… that he fired you… I knew he left you…”

She shrugged. “You picked bits up, eavesdropping, bits of conversations. Telephone calls with friends when I thought you were playing. You were like a sponge, sweetheart, taking everything in, but I never told you. I never lied to you, but I never told you, not about any of it. And you stopped asking, when you got a little bit older, you stopped asking.”

“But you lied to him! You lied to him about me!”

“Because I was scared!” she said. “I was so scared!”

I held up my hands, astounded. The shock ricocheting around my brain. “Scared of what? What were you scared of?”

“Scared of him.” She cleared her throat. “Not of him, not like that. Scared of what he could do.”

“What could he do?” My voice sounded so pathetic, so small. “What could he possibly have done?”

“He’s David Faverley! He had money, connections, lawyers. He had a big house and a couple of kids of his own, he had a family!” She took a breath. “I was scared he’d take you away from me. Scared he’d fight me for you. Scared he’d win.”

“How could he win?! You’re my mother! I belonged with you! Anyone would’ve seen that, Mum!”

“Christ, Katie, I know that now!” she said. “But back then, when I was struggling to sort my shit out, trying to prepare for a baby to come into a life that wasn’t prepared for one, back then it didn’t seem nearly so obvious.” She looked at her hands. “Your father was a great man, a powerful man. He’d already spat me out of his life and sent me reeling, he’d already taken everything from me. I couldn’t have him take you, too. And I couldn’t trust him, not after how he treated me. What if he did the same to you? What if he hurt you like he hurt me? I couldn’t, Katie… I just couldn’t…”

“So he didn’t know? He didn’t even know I was born? You didn’t tell him I existed?!”

She shook her head. “He knew I was pregnant. He found that out on his own.” She brushed her tears away, and my stomach pained again. “He found me, early on, before I was even showing. He demanded to know if it was true, what my plans were, and I was angry. I said the first thing that came into my head. I told him he was too late, that I’d had an abortion.”

My skin froze. “You told him you’d got rid of me?!”

She nodded. “Don’t think I did it lightly. It didn’t feel good, Kate. Not one bit did it. He looked so hurt, when I told him. But I was hurt, too.”

I blinked the tears away. “Is that what you were planning? To get rid of me? Did you want to get rid of me, Mum?”

She reached for my hand, squeezed it hard. “No, of course I didn’t. I wanted you so much, Katie. You were everything to me, from the very first moment I knew I was pregnant.” She smiled, but it was a sad smile. “I didn’t want to need him, not when I was pregnant, not when you were a baby. I thought I’d tell you when you got a bit older, but it never felt right. We were happy, sweetheart. Weren’t we happy?” Her tears fell. “We were happy. You were happy. We didn’t need anything from him. Not a single thing.”

I shook my head. “No, we didn’t need anything. I was happy. But Mum, he was my father. He was my dad.”

She nodded. “I know. I know, Katie. Believe me, I know.”

“I thought he didn’t care. I thought he didn’t want me!” I put my head in my hands, fought the urge to be sick.

“I’m sorry,” she said, like it was so simple.

I felt my lip tremble. “That’s it? You’re sorry? That’s all this comes down to?”

Her eyes were so blue, like mine, her freckles across her nose, just like mine. “You hated it there, right from day one. You hated their house, and you hated his kids. You hated going with him, I’d have to convince you every single weekend.”

“So?”

“So I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“How could it have made it worse?! How could knowing he didn’t hate me from birth make anything worse?!”

She calmed her breath, steadied herself. “I was afraid you’d hate me, too. Hate that I’d lied to you…”

“I’d never have hated you!”

She took a breath. “…Two parents who’d let you down, two parents you couldn’t believe in, two parents you didn’t want to be around. How good would that have been for a little girl who was already hurting?”

“But he was my dad,” I said again. “Maybe if I’d have known…”

“Maybe it would have been different? It wouldn’t have been different, Katie, you hated being there. You hated all of it.”

“But if I’d known, Mum… I’d have had a choice…”

She shook her head. “Verity was spiteful, so was her vile mother. You said you didn’t want a dad, didn’t want that dad. You said you were happier just us.”

“I was ten! I didn’t know what I wanted!”

“And I made a call. Maybe it wasn’t the right call, but it had already been so long, Katie.” Her voice broke. “I’d brought you up so differently to them. We had nothing much, they had everything. You were gracious and kind and polite. You appreciated everything we had, and they appreciated nothing. You didn’t want his money, you wanted nothing of theirs. I didn’t see anything he could offer that you wanted, that would make it worth the pain and the heartache, not back then.”

“A dad,” I said, and my voice broke, too. “I wanted a dad.”

“Not that dad,” she cried. “You didn’t want to be there with them! If I’d have told you the truth it wouldn’t have made any difference, not by then, Katie. It was too late!”

I had nothing to say, no words would come.

She let out a sob. “Don’t hate me, Katie. Please don’t hate me. I was just a kid. Younger than you are now.”

“I couldn’t hate you, Mum! Not ever! I’m just…”

“I know it’s late in your life to find this out. I know it is…”

“I just…” I shook my head. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what this means. I don’t know what it would have meant. I don’t know if it would have changed anything… I mean, you’re right, there was Verity… and Olivia… and I didn’t even like the boys…”

“You weren’t like them… they’re so different to you…”

“But maybe if I’d known the truth, if I’d have been younger, if I’d have given him more of a chance…”

“You still wouldn’t have been like them,” she said. “Katie, you’re nothing like them!”

I fought back a sob. “I know, Mum. And that’s because of you. Because you taught me to be kind, to enjoy the things we had, not miss the things we hadn’t.” I brushed my tears away. “But you could have had more, too! You could have had more time, more money. You didn’t have to work so hard, Mum, you worked so hard. All the time! And it made you sad, I made you sad, and he could have helped you! He could have helped us!”

Her eyes met mine. “My God, Katie, you never made me sad. What on earth makes you think you made me sad?”

I had to take a moment. “I used to hear you cry, Mum. Every night, sometimes for weeks. I used to listen to you get upset and know it was about me, because you had to do everything for me. He could have stopped that! He could have helped!”

She took both of my hands, pulled them to her. “I cried a lot when I was younger, Katie. I cried a lot over many things. Missing your father, even though he left me high and dry to go back home to his wife. Missing the life he promised me, all the things I thought we’d have together. I cried for the people in the care home, sweetheart, the people who had nothing, no family to visit them, no reason to get up in the morning. I cried for the people I watched die alone, the people reaching the end of their lives and having nobody to share it with. I cried with frustration that I couldn’t help those people more, that I couldn’t do more hours to help them, that I couldn’t just walk away at night and forget the things I’d seen. I cried for many reasons, so many reasons I can’t remember them all, but not one of them, not once, not ever did I cry about you.”

My tummy hurt. It hurt like it hurt when I was a little girl. “I thought…”

She shook her head. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, from the very moment I knew I was having you, you were the best thing in the world. I’m so proud of you, and I always was. Every minute of every single day.”

“Don’t…” I said.

She looked so scared. I’d never seen her look scared before.

“Don’t hate me, Katie, please don’t. I may have made some bad choices, but I made them with the best intentions. I did my best for you, and sometimes it wasn’t good enough, I know it wasn’t good enough, but I did my best anyway.”

“It was always good enough!” Her pain hit me in the stomach, and I felt it, I felt it as my own. “You taught me to be strong and have faith in myself. You taught me a person’s value is on the inside, in their heart and soul. You taught me to focus on what’s important and not give a crap for the things that aren’t. You taught me to work hard, and put in the effort if you want the result.” I squeezed her hands. “I’m everything I am because of you, Mum. How could I hate you? You believed in me, no matter what.”

“But I kept you from a father who could have offered you so much.” She let out a sob. “All the opportunities that could’ve been yours, just like Verity had them. Schools, and holidays, and horses. I hate myself for that. How could I have let you go without? Just because I was scared? Just because it was too much of a risk? Because you seemed so young?”

“And I didn’t want it, any of it. That isn’t why I’m sad.” I closed my eyes. “I’m sad because I spent my whole childhood thinking he never wanted me. I’m sad because maybe I didn’t give him a chance to get to know me, not because I missed out on some things. Things mean nothing.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head. “I’m not angry, Mum. I can’t be angry.” I sighed. “This isn’t just your fault. He should have told me, too. He didn’t tell me anything, just took me to his house and tried to jam me into a square hole. He could have told me. He should have told me.”

“We both should have told you.”

“But it’s gone now. It’s done. You taught me that, too, how to concentrate on what’s important. How not to cry over spilled milk or things we can’t change.”

“I tried to teach you whatever I could. Not that I had much to teach, kiddo. I wasn’t all that wise myself, you know.” She brushed the hair from her face and she looked so defeated.

“But you were! You taught me to be who I am. I’m strong, I’m happy, I try my best. Always. Like you taught me.”

“But I wasn’t honest! I didn’t teach you that.” She was still pale. Still sad. “We shouldn’t have had any secrets, Katie. Secrets always come out, they always rot people from the inside out. Secrets tear families apart, cause rifts that never heal, and that might happen here, and it’s all my own fault. It’s what I deserve. It was always a ticking bomb, waiting to go off one day. I just got complacent. It felt safe after all this time.”

Secrets.

Sometimes they’re so much easier to keep that way.

“What now?” Mum said. “What happens now?”

I shrugged. “I think. I think some more.” I sighed. “I dunno, Mum. I’ll work it out.”

“I’m so sorry, Katie. Maybe you can build bridges… maybe it’s not too late.”

“I’m in shock, Mum, but I still think he’s a wanker. This doesn’t change anything. He still treated you like shit. His kids were still vile to me. He still made me feel like a nobody on his posh, fancy property.”

“Don’t hate him, sweetheart. He’s not a bad man, not really. He’s never been a bad man, life is just… complicated sometimes. Things don’t go to plan, things don’t turn out as you expect, or as you want… Things aren’t simple. People aren’t simple.”

I cleared my throat. “Secrets,” I said. “So many secrets.”

She nodded. “Too many. Far too many. No more, though, I promise. No more. I’m through with secrets. I’m through with hiding, being afraid of the truth. It’s always better to know, even if it’s difficult. Even if telling the truth makes you scared.”

I looked out of the window, at the bulk of the Range through the drapes, and my heart suddenly started thumping.

The words just came out.

“Talking of secrets,” I said. “It’s time I told you one of my own.”