The following morning, all rows and sulks are forgotten, for Kent has received the result of his DNA test.
‘Well, that’s it,’ he says, looking rather stunned.
‘Yes? What did they say? What’s the result?’ Silas asks him. ‘Come on. Don’t keep us in suspense.’
Kent folds his letter and replaces it carefully in its envelope. ‘It’s — positive.’
‘Wonderful! That’s wonderful isn’t it, Eric?’
‘Wonderful.’
‘Wonderful,’ echoes Kent, studying his letter.
‘Well, aren’t you pleased?’ Eric asks him.
‘Yes, of course. Of course I’m pleased. It’s just that it’s a bit of a shock. I knew it was possible, otherwise I wouldn’t have come here in the first place, but after all this time it seemed such a long shot, and I’d prepared myself for disappointment.’
I think I understand what Kent must feel. I too always expect the worst, and try to prepare myself for it. The down side of that is that I’m not ready for the good news when it comes. Kent apparently feels the same.
‘I’d already been wondering what to do if the answer was no,’ he continues. ‘After all, you wouldn’t have wanted me hanging around here if I wasn’t your — if I wasn’t related, would you?’
‘Yes we would!’ my uncles speak together.
‘A “no” result wouldn’t have made you a different person, and we’ve loved having you around,’ Silas adds. ‘In a way, this doesn’t change anything, does it?’
‘It does for me,’ Kent says. ‘It gives me a whole new view of who I am. It takes a bit of getting used to.’
‘Come and feed the pigs with me,’ I suggest, sensing Kent’s mixture of feelings. ‘A breath of fresh air is what you need.’
‘That is one seriously nasty animal,’ Kent says, five minutes later, as we lean over the door of Sarah’s shed.
‘Isn’t she? But I’m fond of her in a funny way. She’s certainly a character.’
The character looks up at us, her jaws slobbering swill, giving us the evil eye as only Sarah can.
‘What’s to be fond of?’ Kent asks. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘Not a lot.’ I laugh. ‘I suppose it’s because she’s part of Applegarth, and believe it or not, she’s a wonderful mother.’
‘I can think of mothers I’d rather have.’
‘Speaking of mothers...’
‘Yes.’ Kent sighs. ‘Well, mine was a character, too. She was a pretty good mother on the whole, but she put herself about a bit, too.’
‘Just as well for you that she did,’ I remind him.
‘True. I suppose in a way she couldn’t help herself. She was so pretty. Even in old age, she had these amazing blue eyes, and a nice pair of legs, and a kind of twinkle. She was giving the milkman the glad eye right up until the day she died. Everyone loved her.’
‘Do you miss her?’ I ask, after a moment.
‘Oh, yes. Of course I do. For years, there were just the two of us. She never had a live-in lover. She said it was because of me, but I think she wanted to keep her options open.’
‘Or maybe she just didn’t find the right man to live in with.’
‘That’s possible, too.’
‘And now, this.’ I bring the conversation back to the matter in hand.
‘And now this,’ Kent agrees. ‘I know I must seem ungracious. Ungrateful even. It’s just that I really had prepared myself not to be their son — doesn’t that sound odd? Their son? — and was already making plans. And now — well, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. There’s so much I want to ask them. Family things, personal things. Things I haven’t dared to ask before. Up until now, I’ve tried to keep a bit of a distance. I didn’t want to get too attached to them and — all this. Now, they’re family, and everything’s different.’
‘And you’ve got a cousin.’
Kent squeezes my shoulder and smiles; Eric’s (or is it Silas’s?) smile.
‘I’ve got a cousin,’ he agrees. ‘And a rather lovely one at that.’
‘Thank you, kind sir.’ With my enormous bulk it’s a very long time since I felt lovely, and although I’m sure Kent’s just being kind, I can’t help feeling pleased.
‘Not at all. I’ve always wanted a cousin. Mum was an only child, so I was a bit short on family.’
‘Me too.’ I hesitate. ‘Kent — I’m really pleased about, well, about you and Kaz.’
‘She’s told you, has she? I didn’t think anyone knew.’
‘I’m a woman, Kent. Women notice these things.’
‘And — the others?’
‘No-one’s said anything, so I don’t think so. But you both look so happy it’s a bit hard to miss!’
‘I’ve never felt like this about anyone before,’ Kent confides. ‘But — and you mustn’t tell Kaz I said this — I’ve thought long and hard, and I’ve decided there can’t be a future for us.’
‘What? Why ever not? You’re not already married, are you?’ Because if Kent has a secret wife hidden away somewhere, I’m going to be seriously angry with him.
‘No. Nothing like that. It’s — our ages. I’m too old for her, Ruth. I’m nearly twice her age. It wouldn’t be fair.’
‘Isn’t that for her to decide?’
‘She says it’s not a problem, but while it’s fine now, what about the future?’
‘In my experience, the future rarely turns out the way you expect it to. Just look at me! Besides, Kaz is a big girl. She knows what she’s doing.’
‘And I know what I’m doing,’ Kent says sadly. ‘And it’s not right, Ruth. It’s not fair. But please don’t say anything to her. It’s up to me to break it off. And I will, when the time’s right.’
‘Then is it fair to — to keep on with the relationship at all if you’re going to end it?’
‘Probably not. I suppose at first I thought it would run its course, and things would sort themselves out. But now it’s getting serious, and I don’t know how to stop it.’ He sighs. ‘I’ll have to tell her soon, but, well…’
‘Not yet?’
‘Not quite yet.’
‘Well, it’s up to you of course, but it’ll break her heart.’
‘I know. Oh Ruth, what have I got myself into?’ He leans his elbows on the door of the sty and rubs his face in a way that is so reminiscent of Silas that I wonder that we ever needed that DNA test at all.
We stand for a few minutes watching Sarah wolf down the last of her breakfast and snuffle round her trough for the remaining fragments.
‘She goes free range when the weather’s okay,’ I tell him, thinking it’s time we changed the subject.
‘What a terrifying thought!’
‘No, actually she’s all right when she’s out. She just hates being cooped up.’
‘I can imagine.’
We turn back towards the house.
‘May I ask you something?’ I have a burning question, but am not sure whether or not it’s the right moment.’
‘Ask away.’
‘Do you mind — I mean, does it matter to you which one is your father?’
‘Funnily enough, no it doesn’t. They are so much two of a kind, even if I knew, I think I’d see them both in the same light. It might be a little awkward when it comes to my introducing them to people — and I’m longing for them to meet some of my friends — but no. I honestly don’t mind not knowing. In a way, it makes it all more interesting.’
‘What’s going to be really interesting is telling Mum,’ I tell him.
‘She must suspect something like this.’
‘Oh, yes. But Mum is a great one for burying her head in the sand. If something is hurtful or distasteful, or if it doesn’t come up to her exacting standards, she tries to ignore it. Mum doesn’t do confrontation. Dad, on the other hand, weighs right in and tells everyone what he thinks. There’s nothing reticent about my father.’
‘I’ve noticed.’
‘And I don’t think he suspects anything because, apart from anything else, he’s terribly unobservant. He won’t have noticed how like Eric and Silas you are.’
‘Am I really?’
‘Oh yes! Can’t you see it?’
‘I think I’ve been trying not to. But yes. A bit. I can see I’m a bit like them, but probably more like Mum.’
We have just reached the house when a very smart car creeps cautiously up the drive, and a very familiar dog jumps out. He is wearing a new posh collar, and there is a well-dressed woman following him and carrying a matching lead.
‘Mr. Darcy!’ I hold out my arms, and Mr. Darcy leaps into them, licking my face and covering me with mud. His feet may be muddy but his fur is clean and fluffy, and he smells sweetly of lemons. Someone has given Mr. Darcy a bath. ‘Where have you been, you bad dog? We’ve been so worried!’
‘Oh dear.’ The woman totters through the puddles in her unsuitable shoes, looking embarrassed. ‘I did hope he wasn’t yours as we’ve rather fallen for him.’
‘But where did you find him?’ I push Mr. Darcy down, and he turns his attentions to Kent.
‘I think he must have come back with us in the car when we collected those chickens.’
‘But he’s been gone nearly a week!’
‘Yes. Well, we’ve only just realised what must have happened. We never saw him get into the car or get out of it. As far as we were concerned, he just turned up. We phoned the police —’
‘So did we!’
‘Well, they weren’t much help. Anyway, we thought he must be a stray. He was awfully hungry.’
‘Mr. Darcy is always hungry,’ I tell her. ‘But he definitely belongs here.’
‘Yes. I can see that. Oh dear. What shall I tell the children?’
‘You could buy them a puppy?’
‘That wouldn’t be the same at all. Tiger — we called him Tiger. Don’t you think it suits him? — is house-trained, you see, and has such lovely manners.’ Tiger? Lovely manners? Perhaps this is the wrong dog after all. But the little tear in his left ear, the lop-sided wag of the tail, the beetling eyebrows — these are all Mr. Darcy. He looks a little sheepish, as well he might, but there is no mistaking his identity.
I briefly consider inviting our visitor in, but this is Kent’s day, and besides, at the moment I don’t think I can face another lot of explanations, plus the identical twin effect (this woman looks the susceptible type), so I wave her politely on her way.
‘Does he often go off with people like that?’ Kent asks.
‘He loves riding in cars, but he doesn’t usually hijack other people’s.’
‘Oh well. No harm done, and he’s home, which is the main thing.’
Back in the kitchen, Mr. Darcy receives a rapturous welcome from my uncles. Even Blossom can’t hide her relief.
‘Decided to come back then, did you?’ she asks him, wiping mud off his paws with an old towel. ‘Dratted animal. Don’t know when you’re well off.’
‘We can have a double celebration!’ says Silas.
‘What double celebration?’ Blossom demands.
‘Oh dear.’ Silas turns to Eric.
‘She’ll have to know sooner or later.’
‘Yes. But know what, exactly?’
‘We’ve just discovered I’m a relation,’ Kent says. ‘Isn’t that good news?’
‘Son, more like,’ says Blossom.
‘Well, yes. Possibly.’
‘Whose?’
‘I’m afraid that’s personal,’ says Eric quickly.
‘Yes. Personal,’ echoes Silas.
‘Personal, my backside.’ Blossom, sniffs. ‘Got a right to know,’ she adds.
‘No, Blossom. You haven’t. Not yet, anyway,’ Eric says. ‘This is a private family matter.’
‘Ruth know, does she?’
‘Yes.’
‘Humph.’
‘Ruth’s family,’ Silas tells her. ‘It’s only fair that she should be told.’
Blossom gives me an evil look. While she seems to have little use for her own family, she hates to be reminded that she’s not a member of ours.
‘Oh come on, Blossom. Surely you understand,’ Eric says.
‘Only been here five minutes,’ Blossom says, presumably referring to me.
‘She’s still family,’ Eric says.
‘Been here years, I have,’ Blossom retorts.
‘That’s true. And we’re very grateful.’
‘Grateful!’ scoffs Blossom.
‘And you get paid,’ Silas reminds her.
‘Paid! Paid, indeed!’ Blossom slams out of the back door.
I’ve no idea what Blossom means by this, but she is clearly not pleased. I dread to think what she’ll do next, for Blossom does an interesting line in revenge, and I don’t fancy the idea of anything like that being directed at me.
‘What will you tell Mum?’ I ask, after she’s gone.
‘That’s what we’ve been wondering,’ Silas says. ‘But we think it’ll have to be the truth.’
‘A version of the truth,’ Eric adds.
‘Yes. We’ve decided to tell her that Kent is Eric’s. That’ll be one shock less for her to cope with. I’ll be his uncle,’ he adds. ‘I’m quite happy to settle for uncle. In public, anyway.’
‘Good luck, then.’
‘Yes. I think we’re going to need it.’
In the event, Mum takes the news pretty well, although she’s undoubtedly shocked. I think she has hitherto believed her brothers to be dedicated celibates, and to have incontrovertible evidence of a sexual liaison, however long ago that might have been, is going to take a bit of getting used to. But she does agree that Dad need not know, at least for the time being, and she seems quite pleased to have a nephew.
Two days later, I come across Blossom in the hallway. She has a knowing glint in her eye, and I sense trouble.
‘Had a visitor,’ she tells me, switching off the vacuum cleaner and folding her arms.
‘Who, me?’
‘S’right.’
‘Well, who was it?’ I take off my coat (I have just returned from the clinic).
‘Big feller.’ Blossom is watching my reaction, eking out her news and enjoying every minute of it.
‘Yes?’ I feel a frisson of fear. I suspect that Blossom’s revenge has already taken place, and is going to be more wounding than even she could have anticipated.
‘Beard,’ says Blossom. ‘Trumpet thingy.’
‘Amos.’ I can’t believe it. I can’t bear it. Amos. So close, and now gone. ‘What did you tell him?’ I try to keep my voice even. ‘Where is he now?’
‘Told him I’d never heard of you. Told him you don’t live here.’ Blossom is actually smiling. ‘Went away.’
‘Blossom! How could you? How dare you? You had no right!’ I grab hold of the front of her pinafore and give her a little shake. ‘It was a wicked, wicked thing to do!’
Blossom pulls herself free. ‘Don’t you touch me!’
‘When was this? How long ago?’
‘Two hours, about. Didn’t notice.’
‘Have you any idea what you’ve done?’
Blossom shrugs.
‘You’ve turned away the father of my baby, that’s what you’ve done. I’ve been trying to trace him for months and now I may never find him!’
‘Not my problem.’
‘But why? Why did you do this? What have I ever done to you?’
Blossom mutters something about my morals, and babies out of wedlock.
‘And what about lying?’ I counter. ‘That’s okay, is it? It’s all right to tell lies to a total stranger? Lies about something which is none of your business?’
‘Seems nothing’s my business nowadays,’ says Blossom mutinously.
‘Just because Eric and Silas don’t want you to know all about their private lives, you decide to take it out on me? That’s not fair, Blossom, and you know it.’
‘Done, now. Too late to do anything about it,’ says Blossom.
‘Did he leave a phone number? An address? Anything at all?’
‘Nope.’
‘And you didn’t think to ask anyone else? Eric or Silas? My mother?’
‘Out.’
‘What, all of them?’
Blossom smirks, and I can see that she’s lying, although I haven’t any proof.
‘Well, I think what you’ve done is unforgivable. I’ve tried to get on with you, Blossom. I’ve put up with your rudeness and your moods, and this is all the thanks I get.’
‘Your problem.’ Blossom switches on the vacuum cleaner again. ‘Nothing to do with me,’ she yells above the noise.
‘Quite. It was nothing to do with you.’ But of course, Blossom can no longer hear me.
It would seem that our little chat is now over.