The Confirmation

by L G Dickson

  She found an A1 sheet of paper and a black marker pen in amongst some of James’s paraphernalia and proceeded to spread everything out on the living room floor. How long was Hugh with Céline? How long had they stayed together in that house? How long was he in the apartment after falling ill before coming home?

  Sitting cross-legged with the cat alongside, who was clearly anxious to see what new game was afoot, she plotted out what she knew of her father’s time in Geneva.

  He had left for Switzerland in 1973. She couldn’t be sure when he started the affair with Céline but it was a good five years before he announced the news. Okay, so that was 1978. Ludovic decided this really was something he needed to be a part of and proceeded to walk across the paper every time Annie added another date or significant event. Bloody cat.

  It couldn’t have been terribly long after the announcement that he moved into the house with Céline. The relationship might have been going on for ages, Annie reasoned, but it looked like they made it public just as they’d decided to set up house together.

  Right, that’s enough. The cat had casually stuck out a paw and deftly ripped a tear through 1978. She picked him up and dumped him unceremoniously onto the sofa.

  She tried to recall her trips over to Switzerland. Did Céline ever talk about having children, wanting them? Did Hugh? No, that would have been just too crass to talk about wanting children in front of the one child Hugh had, to all intents and purposes, abandoned.

  So when was the cancer diagnosis? When did he come home?

  Annie’s head was starting to throb. A stressful day had culminated in quickly knocking back two large glasses of wine. Seemed like the best thing to do at the time but the soothing effects had now given way to tension and tiredness. She stretched out on the floor looking up at the heavily corniced ceiling.

  Well, he was back late in 1981 but he didn’t see the end of 1982. But how long had he lived on his own? Couldn’t have been that long, probably the beginning of 1982. So they were together less than four years? Yes, but who’s to say she didn’t visit him in the apartment? They seemed to part on fairly amicable terms, after all.

  So many questions.

  Later in bed her mind kept turning over all the possible next steps. James had called earlier but she had been distracted. His voice was gentle and soothing but words weren’t really registering. He would see her as early as possible on Friday so she decided it would be better to tell all then. A bit more thinking time was required.

  As she lay, brain gently whirring, she knew the sense of detachment wasn’t just about this unexpected turn of events. In all honesty she hadn’t anticipated the feeling of suddenly being cast adrift. The anchor had broken free and there was a sense from some of her friends and colleagues that, without having to face the possible burden of caring for a parent sometime in the future, a new life awaited; so much for her to explore and enjoy. She could chart her way, unfettered by any familial responsibilities. Perhaps that was how orphaned adults were supposed to behave, she thought, but for Annie the sadness was rooted in knowing that the only people who had truly known her from birth to womanhood were gone. All memories, unique to Hugh and Helen, were quickly dissolving. She would never again look for their company, ask for an opinion or seek their guidance. Neither would she hear their views on anything from clothes choices to politics, desired or otherwise. Yes, she had good friends, a man she truly loved, but just at that point, right at that moment Annie felt completely alone. And now, just as she felt like she might sink to the bottom of that particular pit of emotion, here was something new. Something borne out of betrayal perhaps but it offered up the possibility of a connection – back to her father, back to family. She could drag herself up and out. She could see that a new destination might emerge from the thick haze that was obscuring her horizon. Well, at the very least, it was something to steer towards.

  She told James about the photograph on Friday night. Not straight away. They had missed each other and Annie just needed to enjoy him again. After cooking dinner together, they settled down and she asked about Assynt, the cottage in particular. Just for a while Annie wanted to escape the maelstrom of her mind and bask in the tranquillity of the Scottish Highlands.

  ‘Of course, I’m telling you all the good bits and I think to be honest, you’ve only seen the good bits. Yes, it’s beautiful, Annie, but so much of the land is barren, a lot of it overgrazed and so isolated. I’ve only been up a few weeks and my God it can be lonely. I just know I couldn’t stay up there long term.’

  Well, that’s reassuring, thought Annie. ‘But you still think the buy-out can happen?’

  ‘I do. Small-scale farming like crofting is the only way to manage that kind of land. Just needs proper support, business ideas. Anyway, let’s not talk crofting tonight.’

  They were in each other’s arms on the couch. The fire was roaring and there was barely audible classical music coming from the radio in the kitchen. Annie strained to hear and then suddenly a soaring violin melody pierced their bubble.

  ‘Lark Ascending?’ she asked.

  ‘I think so.’

  A piece of music evoking vivid images of green and rolling English countryside. The complete antithesis of James’s beautiful, sprawling wilderness. She lifted her head from his chest and told him all about her week.

  *

  ‘And have you read the letters?’

  ‘Yes. Bizarre really. It’s all so everyday, so mundane. They exchange information on money matters, the purchase and upkeep of the Edinburgh house. Mum tells Dad about what I’m up to, even though I’m writing my own letters to him. She even tells him what’s going on at the Women’s Guild! He talks about the weather, his work, things he misses, what it’s like to live in Geneva. It’s almost like they’re pen friends.’

  ‘What, the whole time he was with Céline?’

  ‘Yes. They stop abruptly when he moves out into the flat. I presume he stopped writing but I don’t know if she tried to keep in contact or not.’

  ‘How on earth do you fathom that lot out? Your mother could barely speak to him when he came to visit and then understandably wanted to hear nothing about Céline – and yet they still had that connection. Just so strange…’

  ‘I know. Shall we have some tea? I think I’d like some tea.’ Annie slowly lifted her head from his chest feeling the indentation of his thick cotton shirt on her cheek, warm and rough. She looked at him but he was staring into the distance, brow heavily furrowed.

  ‘And there’s nothing about a baby in any of these letters?’

  Annie stretched her mouth letting her skin relax and start to fill in the little dents in her cheek. ‘No, nothing. But then he’s hardly going to surprise her with that little bombshell, is he? “Hi Helen, guess what’s been happening in my life?”’

  ‘And there was nothing else in the shoebox?’

  ‘No. Just everything you’ve seen. Tea? Did you say yes to tea?’

  ‘And so you’re assuming the baby is Hugh and Céline’s?’

  Annie stared at James in anticipation of a plausible alternative explanation.

  ‘Well, why else would the photo be there?’

  She knew she was sounding slightly exasperated but a sensible alternative was the least he could offer up after all the detailed questioning.

  ‘Well, maybe we should go back to your mother’s flat and have a good root around. Just in case you’ve missed anything.’

  He sounds like a detective returning to the scene of the crime, Annie thought to herself.

  ‘And have you thought about what you might want to do? If you think the baby really is your father’s?’

  Looked like the question portion of the discussion still had some way to go.

  ‘I don’t really know how I feel about it to be honest. I had thought about writing to Céline but I don’t know
if she’d still be living at the house. It’s the only address I have for her, other than the pharmaceutical company where they both worked. But then it’s nine years ago, James. Surely life would have moved on for her by now. And what if she doesn’t want any contact? I’m sure she could have found me by now if she’d wanted to.’

  ‘I’m guessing she wasn’t at your dad’s funeral?’

  ‘Oh, good God, no. I did write to let her know when he died and she wrote a lovely letter back. I know it all seems very strange but I never felt bitter about Céline. She saw my father’s good qualities and she happened to fall in love with him – and I guess he fell in love too. I really didn’t regret that she made him very happy for a while. But having said all that, I was glad he was with my mother at the end. And now this new thing needs to get thrown into the mix. It never occurred to me they’d want to have a child. God, it must just all sound so complicated to you.’

  James put his arm round Annie and drew her back in. ‘Well, life’s complicated. Love’s complicated. So many kinds of love, so many facets to how we feel about people that come in and out of our lives. It’s the hurt that love can cause – that’s the killer.’

  He paused, shutting his eyes. Annie wondered if this might be the time to go and make the tea but just as she started the extrication process all over again…

  ‘But you can’t blame love for that. It’s the way people are, human beings and all their weaknesses. I think sometimes you just have to stop for a minute. Appreciate the love you do have in your life, live in the moment, that kind of thing.’

  She lifted her head and kissed him. ‘Well, there we are. That doesn’t sound too complicated.’ Finally, she stood up and walked through to the kitchen.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Going to make tea,’ she shouted as she switched on the kettle.

  ‘Great. Can I have coffee?’

  *

  They headed back over to the penthouse apartment on Sunday morning. James immediately opened up the sliding doors in the lounge and stepped onto the balcony looking out over Edinburgh’s roofscape. He proceeded to reel off the name of every important landmark he could see. Annie thought he sounded as though he’d discovered something new and startling at every turn.

  ‘There’s the Forth Rail Bridge over there and then over there, the Castle and is that the spire of St Giles?’

  ‘James. We’re not here to look at the view. Come back in, it’s cold with these doors open.’

  He did as he was told and slammed the doors shut. ‘Right, where should we start? Are you sure you’re okay doing this? Maybe you should look around in your mother’s bedroom. I’ll just stick to the lounge and dining room.’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. First time was the worst. I know what I’m facing now – well, maybe I don’t.’

  Annie was back in amongst the fox furs and hatboxes. There wasn’t quite an old person’s smell but there was a mustiness coming from the mahogany wardrobe that housed all Helen’s outer garments. She reached up to the top shelf and pulled the hats down. Nothing else there. She went over to the nightstand feeling slightly awkward about rummaging around in her mother’s more personal items and then smiled to herself thinking it unlikely she would find any packets of contraceptive pills or tubes of lubricant. She searched both drawers but found nothing of any import. Lavender drops for her pillow was about as risqué as it got. There was a nightstand at the other side of the bed but that wasn’t used as her father hadn’t slept there when he returned home. The guest bedroom had been converted into a makeshift palliative care ward and that was where he had spent his last months. As she moved towards the doorway she could hear James clattering about, pushing and pulling at drawers and cupboards. He would make a pretty hapless burglar, she thought.

  ‘Is that you finished in the bedroom?’ he called.

  ‘Yes. Just going into the guest bedroom.’ She paused at the door. ‘Well, no, not quite finished.’

  Annie turned and went back to the identical little bedside table at what would have been her father’s side of the bed. The top drawer was completely empty but in the bottom drawer, hidden right at the back, was a Bible in a zipped black leather casing. Annie hadn’t seen this Bible in years. She remembered it from when she was a little girl; the feeling of it in her hands, closing and opening until her mother told her to put it down in case she broke the zip. She opened it up for the first time in almost twenty years. The smell of cold church pews filled the air.

  At the front was a small prayer card decorated with forget-me-nots. Printed across the top were the words ‘For Those Who Live Alone’. She read through until the last line: ‘I live alone, dear Lord, yet have no fear, because I feel your presence ever near.’ Annie’s eyes welled up as she read. She kissed the card and placed it carefully back into the front of the little hymnary. She was about to send the Lord’s word back to the dark sanctuary of its protective cover when she noticed something protruding from the back of the Bible. It was white and of a firm texture in stark contrast to the delicate yellowing pages of testament and hymns.

  Annie sat on the edge of the bed. It was an envelope addressed to her father. She opened it up, pulled out a piece of paper, clearly not written in her mother’s hand, and read:

  ‘Dear Hugh. Annie told me how ill you were and so I hope you don’t mind me writing. I did wonder when I hadn’t heard from you these last weeks. She told me that you know you haven’t very much time and so I decided I had to contact you. I am so grateful for what you have done, for both of us. I wish things had been different but, now that I know there isn’t much time left, I wanted you to have a photograph of our son and to let you know…’

  The letter stopped abruptly. It had been folded in half and the bottom part was missing. What did she want him to know? She heard James come into the bedroom.

  ‘It’s all gone very quiet in here. Thought I’d see what was going on.’

  Annie held up the torn sheet of paper.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s a letter, well, a piece of a letter from Céline to my father.’ She paused.

  ‘I have a brother, James, a little brother.’

  James sat beside her on the bed and put his arm round her.

  ‘Well, now we know for sure.’ He reached for the letter. ‘Why do you think it’s torn like that?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know, James, but I have a brother.’ This was no longer some hypothetical scenario she was facing. Fine to let her thoughts run riot when none of it was real. But this was real. There was a boy and he was her brother.

  ‘Yes, yes. Sorry, I know that’s a lot to take in. Where did you find the letter?’

  ‘It was tucked away at the back of Helen’s Bible. I only opened it up because I used to play with the thing when I was young. I loved touching these delicate little pages, hidden away inside their zipped cover – but putting a letter like that in here, well, she obviously didn’t want anyone to find it. Anyone except me, that is.’

  ‘It certainly is an odd place to hide such a thing. Surely she didn’t carry it into church every Sunday?’

  ‘Oh no. It wasn’t her everyday Bible. I wonder if she knew I would find it some day. She must have known that I would open it up as soon as I found it.’

  ‘But there was never any hint? Absolutely no suggestion from either of them? How could they keep such a thing secret?’

  James was looking and sounding incredulous.

  ‘No, nothing, and I can’t even be sure that my father read this letter or saw the photograph. What if Helen opened it? Maybe she didn’t want him to see anything from Switzerland or if it arrived when he was really very ill then maybe he just wouldn’t have been able to read the letter or understand what the photograph meant. But then at the hospital – I don’t know, but I think she wanted to tell me. Oh, I don’t know – maybe
not.’

  ‘Well, is there a postmark? Would that help?’

  Annie’s head was beginning to hurt; a dull throb signalling brain overload. She looked down at the envelope. Postmark Geneva 20th October 1982.

  ‘When did he die?’

  ‘15th December 1982.’

  CHAPTER 8

  James left later that night. She didn’t want him to go but at the same time needed the space to think and decide what she was going to do next. His thoughts and suggestions were well intentioned but it was all just too oppressive. She had to consciously stop herself from sounding dismissive and eventually closed down the discussion, explaining she was tired and wanted to just relax for the next few hours. They took a familiar walk back to the flat along by the Water of Leith and spoke about their respective weeks ahead. On returning, James cooked an early supper and they collapsed in front of the television. They weren’t particularly focusing on the programme in front of them but neither were they bothering with any kind of chat. He seemed to know, finally, that she just needed peace and quiet. Before they knew it, it was time for James to go.

  ‘You’re having to deal with so much alone, Annie. I feel terrible leaving you.’

  ‘Don’t, darling, don’t. It’ll be fine. You know me; once I’ve got a plan of action sorted everything will be absolutely fine. And then hopefully I’ll get up to Assynt, maybe not next weekend, perhaps the following…’

  She knew he was leaving unconvinced by her assurances but that was hardly surprising; she sounded less than convincing in her own mind.

  By the following morning Annie had resolved to write to Céline at the only address she had. If nothing came back in the next few weeks then she could always contact the Stolz pharmaceutical company. At least they might be able to help with a forwarding address. If Céline was still in the same house and chose not to respond then Annie would know she wanted to sever all connections. Having made the decision, her head cleared a little and she felt able to give some attention to her appointments for the week.