‘Hold on. I need to break this all down. He used you to make me think he was seeing someone else? He’s hurting and wishes things could be different?’ I repeated.
‘Yes.’
‘Then why doesn’t he get in touch? Whatever it is, I’m sure we can work it out,’ I pleaded.
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ Melissa replied as she stirred her tea. ‘There’s so much more you need to know, but I promised him.’
‘I don’t understand.’
She blew out a breath and stared at her cup. ‘You have more in common than you think.’
‘Like what?’ I asked, unable to make any sense of what she was saying to me.
‘The last night you were together, you went for a bath, yes?’
I thought back to that night and nodded. ‘Yeah, just before he left.’
‘What did you think he was doing when you were in the bath?’
I sighed and suddenly I was hit with an inevitable ache, my thoughts clashing and colliding. I had to stand to pull in some air to my body as I felt it shutting down. He had started to read my background information report. Suddenly the air rushed from my lungs. ‘Oh God, no,’ I said as I began to breathe harshly, grasping at my top and pulling it away from my neck.
‘Fucking hell, sit down,’ she said as she pushed my shoulders down to sit me on a chair. She started circling my back with her hands and repeatedly told me to breathe.
I shook my head and started shaking, unable to say the words. ‘He’s not…oh God, he can’t be…no…I need my mum…please, get my mum!’
I heard voices, and suddenly Ruth was crouching at my side. ‘Sweetheart, I’m going to need you to calm down. Breathe deeply; follow me. Take a breath in and out…keep doing it, Kate.’
‘I shouldn’t have come. Jesus, I’m so sorry. I just wanted you to know that he’s fallen in love with you. He’s a mess. I’m sorry.’ Melissa disappeared out of the kitchen, and from the slamming of the front doors a few seconds later, I knew she was gone.
‘I need…I need her…to…come back,’ I wheezed through sharp breaths.
‘Kate you need to concentrate on your breathing. In and out…in…and out.’
Finally, my breathing started to regulate, but I was still clasping onto Ruth’s wrists. ‘I need to see her…Melissa…tell her to come back. She said something….she knows something…’
‘What did she say, sweetheart?’
‘We have something in common…we have something in common…Danny…’ My breathing started to rush again, and the shaking just wouldn’t stop.
‘Kate, tell me what your thinking?’
‘Is he my half brother? Is that why he’s gone? Is that it?’ I sobbed through wracking breaths. Everything was closing down. All I could see were bright lights in front of my eyes.
‘Kate, no. No, sweetheart,’ Ruth replied. ‘He isn’t related to you, I promise.’ She held me close and started stroking my hair as the sobs left my body violently. ‘That’s not it, sweetheart,’ she repeated as we rocked together, my world slowing and starting to fall apart just as I was beginning to put it back together.
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘How is she?’ Abi asked.
‘She didn’t sleep at all last night, just sobbed, bless her,’ Mum replied.
I was listening to them as I bent down at the top of the stairs in my parents’ home. Ruth had called my mum from the centre and Dad had picked me up, taking me back to their house for the night. The comfort of my childhood bedroom didn’t embrace me as I’d hoped it would. Instead of sleeping like I should have done, I alternated between staring at the ceiling and sobbing in my mum’s arms.
‘I’m here. I can hear you talking about me,’ I smiled as I caught sight of Abi.
‘Hey, gorgeous, how are you doing?’ she asked as she pulled me into a hug.
‘Anxious. Worried. Stressed. That about covers it.’
‘Let’s get started then,’ Abi said as put her arm through mine and we went through to the living room. My laptop was sitting on the coffee table where I’d left it earlier that morning, too frightened to search anything or click on helpful tracing websites just in case I got pulled into a rabbit hole of discovering something I didn’t want to know.
‘What are the first steps?’ Mum asked as she brought in a tray with a teapot and teacups. I smiled at her formality.
‘Well, normally we would contact the General Register Office and search for birth, marriage or death certificates. That’s the most helpful way because it tells us everything we need to know quickly. It’s a good starting point,’ Abi replied as she squeezed me against her side. ‘Have you searched anything? Birth mother’s name, birth father?’ she asked.
‘No, I wanted to, but in the end, I couldn’t. I’m frightened, Abi. What am I going to find?’
‘I know it’s frightening. The unknown always is, but there’s obviously something you need to know and a simple internet search may give you the answers without having to apply for birth certificates.’
‘Start with my birth mother,’ I said, picking up the background information report. ‘Amanda Kirk, born 15th August 1972.’
Abi picked up the laptop and started typing in the details. I watched as her eyes scanned the screen. ‘There are some options we could look at, some social media links that could be her, but, of course, we couldn’t confirm them,’ she replied. ‘Plus she may have married, which would mean she has a different surname, so the likelihood of us finding her without applying for a marriage certificate is slim to nonexistent.’
‘What if we searched for Amanda Mitchell, my birth father’s last name?’ I suggested.
Abi started typing again but narrowed her eyes and shook her head. ‘Nothing seems to fit at first glance.’
‘What about my birth father? His last name won’t have changed. Type in Darren Mitchell, 21st June 1967.’
Abi started typing again but scanned the screen for longer, clicking on links and reading. ‘There are quite a few news stories. Just hang on while I search through them.’ She avoided eye contact, and I saw her face flush red, something that hardly ever happened. ‘I just need to be as sure as I can that this is him,’ she said.
‘What is it?’ I asked, feeling a sense of dread sitting just under my ribcage and twisting into my bones.
‘I need to ask you something. You might not know the answer, but I need you to think,’ Abi said. ‘Danny’s parents; were they married?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t think straight,’ I replied, panic taking over my tone.
‘This is too much of a coincidence, Kate. Was she called Serena? Serena Benedichi?’
‘Yes! That’s his last name and he has the name Serena tattooed on his arm above an image of his mother,’ I cried, unable to take the bite of anxiety anymore.
‘I need you to calm down. I think I’ve discovered the connection, but I need you to listen and stay calm.’ My mum was sitting on the other side of me; she wrapped her arm around my waist. ‘Your birth father is Darren Mitchell, is that correct?’ I nodded quickly. ‘Danny’s mother, to your knowledge, was called Serena Benedichi?’
‘Yes. Please, just tell me!’
‘How old was Danny when she died?’
‘Six.’
‘What year would that be?’ Abi was precise and methodical, but it was causing a delay that was driving me crazy.
‘He was born in 1989, so it would have been 1995.’
Abi nodded and continued scanning the screen. ‘Kate, there are some local news articles related to a Darren Mitchell giving the same date of birth as your birth father. Darren was sentenced to three years for gross negligence manslaughter for the death of Serena Benedichi in 1995.’ I gasped and raised my hand to my mouth. Mum tightened her grip around my waist. Abi looked in complete and utter shock but was trying to hold it together professionally. ‘I’m so sorry, Kate, but this all adds up. I think it’s him.’
‘Oh no, I can’t…I need a minute to just…’
‘This is too much, isn’t it? It’s big. I’m not being dramatic, am I? Tell me if I am.’ My breathing started to mimic yesterday’s panic attack, and Mum’s eyes grew wide in panic. Abi put the laptop back on the coffee table, crouched down at my feet and started to deep breathe with me.
‘You’re not being dramatic. I’m so sorry. This is a lot for you to take in. We can apply for birth certificates, get more information and see where your birth father is now. That way we can confirm it’s him,’ Abi replied.
‘Three years? He probably would have been out in two. That doesn’t seem fair, does it? Two years is all he got for taking a life.’ I said as my breathing started to regulate.
‘Did Danny tell you what happened to her?’ Mum asked.
‘He said she overdosed. Her supplier gave her some hard drugs but she wasn’t used to the potency. Her supplier. My birth father!’ I gasped. ‘He said they were together. He was her partner. Danny’s birth dad left when he was young.’
‘This all makes sense now. The night he left, he was reading your background information report and would have seen Darren’s name,’ Abi said, taking my hands in hers. ‘That’s why he’s pushing you away. Imagine this from his point of view. The first woman he wants a relationship with, falls in love with, and he finds out your birth father was responsible for the death of his mother. That’s huge, Kate.’
She was right. This was huge. For Danny this was gigantic and monstrous and everything I knew he couldn’t cope with. Danny he was running for a good reason. He had to leave to process what this meant. Pushing me away was part of that.
Abi stayed until late into the evening, ensuring I was processing the information with her professional hat firmly on her head but then removing it to replace it with her best friend hat, ensuring I wasn’t falling apart as the news started to settle. It was a strange place to be. Reading about my birth father was distressing, but in some ways, it was like reading a novel, discovering the plot of a story that was horrendous but not something that was directly linked to me. I didn’t know my birth father. He wasn’t a part of my life that held any real connection. I’d always thought of my birth family as a foundation or an anchor fixing me firmly in place. Those early experiences were part of me, had a direct impact on my values and my personality and made me the person that I am today. Discovering more about them only tethered the anchor further away.
My only real concern continued to be Danny. I had choices. I had options. Choosing not to have direct contact with my birth family was one of them; not letting their behaviour impact my life was another. Danny didn’t have that choice. He lived it. He would only see the man that gave life to me as the person that took life away from his mother.
‘So what’s the plan, gorgeous?’ Abi asked as she lay across the settee, her feet on my lap.
‘I’m not sure,’ I sighed. ‘I understand why he left and I get that he needs space; that’s always been his coping mechanism, but maybe I should just let him go.’
‘I’m sorry but I’m not buying that,’ Abi replied. ‘There’s too much between you to just let him go. Even if you don’t get back together, even if he goes off travelling and becomes the one that got away, don’t you think he should at least know that you’ve discovered why he left?’
‘What if I push him away even further?’
‘How much further could he go? Fuck, Kate, he’s disappeared for the last couple of months,’ she said as she crossed her legs and sat back against the arm of the settee. ‘Who do you have in common? Who still has contact?’
‘Ruth,’ I replied.
Abi picked up my mobile from the coffee table and held it out to me. ‘Ring her. Tell her to tell him you know and it doesn’t make a difference.’
I looked down at my phone, trying to weigh up my options but knowing deep down that this would be my only chance. I found her number in my contacts and tapped the screen.
‘Ruth, can we talk?’
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘Your parents have a beautiful home,’ Ruth said as I welcomed her inside. It had been a few days since our phone call when she had promised to tell Danny that I knew why he left. She wasn’t able to see me until today, but at least that gave her some time to talk to him.
‘I took the week off work and I’ve been staying here for a few days.’
‘Sensible,’ she smiled as she held my chin with her hand. ‘You look better than I expected.’
‘Thanks. I think.’
She laughed lightly. ‘I should have said you look better than him.’
‘How is he?’ I asked, unsure if I wanted to know the answer.
‘In a way, he’s relieved that you know. He may be difficult sometimes, but underneath that bravado is a heart of gold. He’s worried about you.’
‘Will he see me?’ She looked to the floor, essentially giving me the answer with that gesture. I nodded. ‘Come on through; I’ll make you some tea.’
We were sitting at the kitchen table as Ruth filled me in on the events at the centre. Oli had met more of his extended birth family and appeared to be doing well. An anonymous donor had given enough money for Ruth to have the roof patched up. I smiled as I remembered trying to get the position of buckets just right to catch the drips before an art therapy session.
‘Can I ask you one thing?’ I said as I poured tea from Mum’s best teapot. ‘If he’s relieved I know, why doesn’t he want to see me?’
She sighed deeply. ‘You need to understand that this is complicated grief on a grand scale. Danny’s addictions started because of that. He’s always struggled with understanding his feelings regarding his mother’s death. He idolises her, but he also hates her. He hates her for leaving him when he was so young, putting her addictions first and, as he sees it, putting Darren before him.’ I winced at my birth father’s name. ‘Darren was a big part of Danny’s life. Serena met him when Danny was three. He supplied for her, and that turned into more. I guess in some way he was a father figure.’
‘I can’t imagine how he must be feeling,’ I muttered behind my hand, trying desperately to hide my tears.
‘It’s brought a lot of feelings back for him, feelings he thought he’d worked through,’ she replied as she held my hand. ‘He’s fine. He’s getting there.’
‘Has he been back to the centre?’
‘A couple of times.’
‘You need to tell him that this doesn’t make a difference to me. If anything, it makes me feel more connected to him, like we were meant to find each other,’ I cried, wiping my tears with fingers.
Ruth gently pulled me towards her and cradled me in her arms. ‘I wish I could make this better, Kate.’
She held me until my tears subsided and our tea had gone cold. She told me that Danny had spent the last few weeks travelling around the UK on his bike, spending nights away, crashing with friends, working and trying to clear his head. They’d had regular contact and met up as recently as yesterday.
‘I have something for you,’ Ruth said as she reached into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Writing looped and swirled on one side, but on the other, there was detailed shading and lines of pencil drawing. ‘It’s from Danny. He asked me to give it to you.’ I unfolded it slowly, not wanting to rush the moment. I had no idea what it was, but I wanted to savour the feeling that it was something good, something hopeful before I came crashing down all over again. I looked over it meticulously, knowing immediately what it was. A drawing. A perfect pencil drawing. I closed my eyes and remembered the sun beating down on my skin, the breeze lightly flicking my hair, Danny in front of me on the grass sketching, his lust filled eyes encouraging me to spread my legs before him.
He had drawn me sitting with my legs curled up, my hands in my lap and a knowing smile on my face. The shades and tones were perfect. Considering this was a quick sketch, it was beautiful and subtly highlighted his talent. At th
e bottom of the picture was his signature, and to the left, he’d written large, bold handwriting: You’re always with me. I gasped and closed my eyes, a tear escaping down my cheek. Finally, I’d been given a sign that he still held feelings for me. They still consumed him and pushed through his skin like they pulled through mine.
‘He wanted me to be here when you read it. He needed to know that you had some support and that you weren’t alone. He considered sending it to Abi’s office but finally decided this was the best way, apart from doing it himself, but I failed to talk him into that,’ Ruth smiled cautiously.
She held my hand and told me to take my time, but every noise in the room faded away to nothing as I held his letter in my hands.
Kate,
I don’t think I’ve ever written a letter. Not like this anyway. It’s taken me some time to be able to explain myself, and I’m sorry for that. You deserved a full explanation, but I couldn’t give that to you when even I couldn’t understand why I chose to the leave that night. I guess it was fear. Fear has always made me run. I’ve never been one to face reality head-on. I choose to pick up my things and go, torturing myself with blocking out what needs to be processed. The brain is complex. Sometimes it tricks you into remembering the good times and forgetting the bad. Other times you only get negative thoughts and images. Sometimes those images are so clear in my head that I have to escape them. Before, I could do it through drink, drugs and sex, but now I do the only thing I know how. I run.
I’m sorry.
In many ways, Darren Mitchell was like a father to me, despite his fuckups. When he wasn’t high or battling his demons, there were parts of him that were good. I remember him buying me a toy car, bringing bars of chocolate home after disappearing for a few days, and taking me to the park when Mum was passed out on the bed. When he went to prison, I mourned for him just as I mourned for my mother. When I was old enough to understand that he had a direct hand in my mother’s death, I struggled, and my addictions started to cling onto my skin. Can you see why I ran, Kate? This man I both loved and hated with the same intensity was your birth father. I ran because I couldn’t face the truth. I couldn’t face you.
Let Me Be Your Truth (Music and Letters Series Book 3) Page 21