‘How’s he going to cope now you and Hannah are no longer there with him? Do you think he’ll want to move back to Manchester?’
Frank and Maggie Wells had lived in the Altrincham area for most of their lives, where the sisters had grown up in a large Victorian family home in a leafy, well-heeled street. But two years ago, after both taking early retirement, they’d sold up and moved to a bungalow close to the sea in Southport. Although this had always been a shared dream of theirs, it had come as a surprise to the rest of the family, particularly in light of them recently becoming grandparents. However, soon after the move, they’d revealed the devastating news that Maggie had been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer; she’d effectively relocated there to die.
Mark knew how hard it had been for Hannah to watch her mother gradually fade away, slowly getting more frail and less like her old self; increasingly reliant on the various drugs she’d been prescribed. He assumed Diane’s experience had also been tough, although he knew Hannah thought her sister hadn’t been as supportive or visited as often as she had when Maggie had got closer to the end.
Ultimately, her death had been a release, for Maggie, but also for her family. As painful as it was to lose her, at least they no longer had to watch her suffer, losing a little more of herself every day. Now they could finally move on to grieve for the strong woman she’d once been, rather than the dying patient she’d become.
‘Dad will have to manage,’ Diane replied, ‘like the rest of us. As to whether he’ll stay there or not, that’s up to him. It’s way too early to talk about that yet. At least he seems to know plenty of people around there now. One of the neighbours, a woman called Joan, even brought him a lasagne over this afternoon.’
While they spoke about this and the funeral plans, Mark’s mind wandered. Spending so much one-to-one time with Mia over the past couple of days had affected him in ways he hadn’t predicted.
Despite usually feeling disconnected and indifferent towards children, Mark had been surprised to find he really enjoyed spending time with Mia. Okay, the weeing in the car hadn’t been much fun, but apart from that she’d been consistently cute. There hadn’t been the slightest hint of a toddler tantrum.
Little Mia, who was usually too busy with Hannah to notice him, had hung on his every word. She’d made him feel special in a way he hadn’t experienced before. At certain moments she’d unexpectedly planted a kiss on his cheek or climbed on his knee for a ‘huggle buggle’, as she called it, melting his heart.
Occasionally she’d pulled an exaggerated sad face and mentioned her late grandmother, clearly trying to process what Diane had told her before leaving. ‘Granny’s gone, Uncle Mark. I miss her,’ she’d said several times, shaking her head and shrugging in a way that made her look far older than her years.
When he’d tucked her up in bed that evening, having read her the same story three times – about a cat who was scared of going to the vet – a very earnest Mia had told him: ‘I love you, Uncle Mark.’
‘Thank you, Mia,’ he’d replied, overwhelmed. ‘That’s nice of you to say. I, um … I love you too.’
And even though he’d only said so because she’d said it first, there had been a certain truth in his words that had got Mark thinking.
It was this he was still mulling over as he and Diane spoke in the kitchen later. He felt a fondness for Mia unlike anything he’d experienced towards a child before; he wondered if it might in fact be something biological.
Despite falling pregnant alarmingly soon after that awful night – the one Mark wished he could banish from his memory forever – Diane had always fervently denied any chance of his being Mia’s father. Of course he’d asked her. As much as it pained him to dig up what had happened between them and despite having no desire to be a dad, Mark wasn’t the kind of person to bury his head in the sand. He was a man who faced up to his responsibilities. Ironically, this had been ingrained in Mark by the same tragedy from his past that had shaped his desire not to be a father, having been badly let down as a child by someone who should have watched over him.
But Diane had always seemed so dismissive, like it was a ridiculous suggestion. Eventually, he’d accepted it and moved on. The fact it was easier this way had been an added bonus.
And yet, as far as he knew, Diane had never told anyone the father’s identity, not even Hannah or their parents, which was weird. She’d not been in a relationship around that time – not publicly anyway – and had taken the stance that it was no one’s business but hers.
‘Would you like a drink before you head off?’ Diane asked, having described to Mark the type of coffin they’d agreed on for Maggie’s funeral. ‘I’ve got plenty of wine and beer,’ she added, gesturing towards the fridge, ‘unless you’ve drunk it all while you’ve been here.’
Normally he’d have said no and headed home. He usually avoided being alone with Diane at all costs, in light of their chequered past. But he needed to address his thoughts about Mia.
‘Go on then,’ he replied. ‘I’ll have a quick beer. And don’t worry: there’s plenty left. I’ve not had a drop while I’ve been responsible for Mia.’
Diane raised an eyebrow. ‘Great.’ She walked over to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Grolsch.
Mark fought to keep his breathing steady.
As his sister-in-law opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a bottle opener, he noticed she was wearing a green top very like one his wife had.
‘You and Hannah must have similar taste,’ he said, making small talk in a bid to calm himself down.
‘Oh?’ she replied, turning around and pouting in a way that made him uncomfortable. ‘How so?’
Mark cleared his throat, wishing he’d chosen his words more carefully. ‘I, er, just mean what you’re wearing. That, um, top. I think she might have the same one.’
Diane laughed. ‘Oh, okay, I get you. Well spotted. She does have exactly the same top – this one, in fact. I borrowed it from her this morning. Nice, isn’t it?’
Mark managed an awkward laugh, shuffling his feet on the tiled kitchen floor.
‘So you managed all right with Mia?’ Diane asked after they’d moved through into the small lounge. ‘Everything seems in good order. Hannah and I were surprised not to get more phone calls from you.’
‘Yes, we muddled through. The instructions you left were a big help.’ He paused before adding: ‘She’s a lovely little girl.’
Mark’s mind skipped into overdrive. He asked himself repeatedly why exactly he thought Mia might be his child, apart from the obvious fact that he and her mother had slept together soon before Diane fell pregnant.
Did he see himself in her? God, that was a hard question to answer. She had green eyes, like he did, but a lighter shade. They were piercing in a way that reminded him more of the pale blue eyes that Hannah and Diane shared. Her hair was dark brown, like his. But that was also her mother’s natural colour and Mia’s hair was straighter than either of theirs. Just like some other man’s hair, perhaps.
As for the rest … who could say?
Maybe he was being stupid, delusional. Could spending time with only a three-year-old for company mess with your mind? Plus there was the fact that Diane had just lost her mother, which probably made this an inappropriate moment to raise such a sensitive issue. He was tempted not to say anything after all.
Then he remembered how it had felt to hear Mia say she loved him; to hold her cool little hand in his while walking through the park that afternoon. There was definitely a connection between the two of them. He felt it in his gut – and he had to know the truth. So he grabbed the bull by the horns.
‘Listen, Diane. I need to ask you something about Mia. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with her. More than I ever imagined. I know you’ve said otherwise in the past, but … she’s mine, isn’t she? I know she is. I can feel it. Please tell me the truth.’
Diane stared at him for a long moment, poker-faced. She slowly began to nod her head
and then, in a voice that sounded so calm it was almost menacing, she said: ‘Well, this is a surprise. Your timing is lousy, but fine, I get it. I’ll tell you the truth if that’s what you really want, Mark.’
CLIENT SESSION TRANSCRIPT: HCOOK290719
S: How are you, Hannah? It’s been a while since our last session, hasn’t it?
H: Yes, it has. I didn’t feel like I needed to see you again until now, Sally. Things have been going well. Really well, actually.
S: That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. Such fantastic news about your book deal, by the way.
H: Thanks. I appreciate that.
S: So what’s changed to bring you back to see me again?
H: Last Friday my sister Diane turned up out of the blue – without any warning at all – after all those years of no contact. It’s totally messed my head up again. For a start, she left her fourteen-year-old daughter Mia behind when she left. The last time I saw her she was a toddler.
S: Your niece is staying with you?
H: Yes, I don’t know for how long. Diane begged me and Mark to take her in for a few days while she sorted some things out, whatever that means. She wouldn’t elaborate.
S: And how do you feel about it all?
H: I feel anxious. Seeing Diane again has brought back memories of how I became after we fell out and then she moved away. I’m afraid of having another breakdown; of losing everything I’ve rebuilt in her absence.
S: It’s only normal to feel that way in the circumstances, Hannah, but it’s an emotional response rather than a rational one. There’s no foundation for such fears. You need to have confidence in the strong, successful, confident woman I see before me. You’re not the person you once were. The past is gone and all that remains is who you are right now. Yes?
H: Yes.
S: And that is?
H: Someone strong, successful and confident.
S: Exactly. So tell me about Mia.
H: It’s been good to see her. I spent a lot of time with her when she was little, before they moved to Bournemouth, and I missed her terribly afterwards. But she’s so different now. She might as well be another person altogether. I remember reading bedtime stories to her, taking her for walks in her buggy and feeding the ducks. But she has no memory of me at all. I don’t know where to begin with her. I’m not sure she even likes me much. The two of us were alone in the apartment today for the first time and she spent most of that shut in her bedroom.
S: Where’s Mia now?
H: At home with Mark. I didn’t want to leave her alone yet, which was why this late appointment was ideal. Thank goodness you had a cancellation.
S: I’m glad this has worked out for you. And Diane? What was your initial reaction when she turned up on your doorstep unannounced? Was any part of you glad to see her?
H: Glad? Not really. Shocked, perplexed, anxious: those are more suitable words to describe how I felt. I knew she’d want something, because that’s Diane all over. I guessed it would be money, but instead it was about us looking after Mia. I doubt I’d have agreed to much else; I think Diane knew Mia would be my weak spot, based on how much I doted on her when she was a young child.
S: I recall from our previous chats that you never expected Diane to reach out to you. Now that she has, do you think this could be the start of a healing process?
H: Hmm. She may have made contact after all these years, but I don’t think it was with a view to patching things up between us. I got the impression she was out of other options. As soon as we’d agreed to look after Mia, she was gone: off to deal with whatever mess she’s got herself into.
S: And what do you think that mess might be?
H: After more than a decade apart, I honestly don’t know. She got very upset when she asked for our help – tears and everything. They seemed genuine, although Diane’s always been good at manipulating people and situations. I found out earlier that she’s barely been in contact with Mia since leaving her here in Manchester, which seems totally strange to me.
S: I see. So in what ways was Diane manipulative in the past, Hannah?
H: There were several occasions, before our falling-out, when I felt like she used my affection for Mia to her advantage, as she has now really. I used to act as a free babysitter all the time, for instance, usually while she went out partying. Mostly I didn’t mind, because I loved being with my niece, particularly since I’ve never had any children of my own. But sometimes it did feel like she was abusing that bond.
S: Can you be more specific?
H: Sure. The example that springs to mind was on my wedding anniversary one year. Mark and I both had the day off work and were planning a walk in the Peak District followed by a slap-up meal in the city centre. Then I received a call from Diane first thing that morning, saying Mia had diarrhoea and couldn’t go to nursery. She was in a panic, since she had some important course on at work that day, which she didn’t feel like she could miss. I agreed that Mark and I would step in to look after Mia, which wasn’t much fun, since she pretty much cried and pooed the whole time. It definitely wasn’t the special day we’d planned. Anyway, at least we still had the meal out to look forward to, until Diane managed to ruin that. Rather than getting home on time, as you’d expect, she didn’t roll up until nearly seven-thirty that evening, by which point we’d missed our reservation and were too worn out to bother doing anything else. She’d been to the pub with her colleagues, believe it or not, and blamed not being in touch on her phone battery having died.
S: She was drunk when she got back, despite her daughter being ill?
H: Oh no, she hadn’t been drinking. She was in the car. But I couldn’t believe she’d gone at all, knowing Mia was unwell and it was our anniversary. Not much of a thank-you for our help, was it? She claimed to have been pressured into it by her boss, but I didn’t believe a word. What kind of manager would insist a mum went to the pub in that situation? Plus she could’ve called us from the office or someone else’s phone to at least give us a heads-up. No, she went to the pub because she wanted to; because she’s selfish. Mark and I were both fuming. But somehow, a few weeks later, she had me babysitting again. I loved spending time with Mia. I figured she was the closest thing I’d ever have to a daughter, which was why it hit me so hard when Diane took her away from me and moved down south.
S: Why do you think Diane turned to you rather than someone else on that particular occasion? Why not your parents, for example?
H: They weren’t living locally by that point. They’d moved to Southport and had enough on their plates dealing with Mum’s cancer. Since Mia’s father has never been in the picture, I was the only other family Diane could ask to help. She manipulated our parents too, though, just in different ways.
S: Perhaps you could expand on that last point, Hannah. It sounds like something that’s bothered you.
H: Um, yeah. I guess so. I don’t know what Diane’s relationship with our father is like nowadays, but after she had Mia I felt like she relied on Mum and Dad giving her cash handouts far more than she ought to have done. She was excellent at playing the struggling single mum card. Then she’d think nothing of going out and splurging however much on a load of new outfits for herself. Growing up, Diane was the one always getting in trouble – receiving detentions and poor grades at school; staying out past curfew – while I worked hard and did what I was told. Because of this, Diane used to tell me I was Mum and Dad’s favourite, which I probably started to believe. But as adults, things seemed to switch around for us. It was assumed, since both Mark and I had decent jobs, that I was fine on my own, while Diane needed their support: financially and emotionally. And then she gave them their only grandchild, which reinforced the situation.
S: Would you say you were jealous of this?
H: I suppose so. It felt unfair, like she was being rewarded for getting herself into a mess. It was never really about money. Mark and I have always been fortunate enough not to need help. It was the principle of the matter. I f
elt Diane was manipulating Mum and Dad: taking advantage of their kindness and generosity; their blind love for their granddaughter. Meanwhile, she refused to tell anyone who Mia’s father was or to ask him to do his bit. Plus, when Mum got really ill, Diane would use Mia as an excuse for why she couldn’t go over and help out, leaving me and Dad to do the heavy lifting. But the way she talked after Mum died, you’d have thought it was her always driving over there, helping with the shopping and cleaning; tending to Mum’s needs; teaching Dad how to cook. She had the big advantage of being able to show up with Mia, which always trumped anything I could do. Sorry, I sound like a jealous idiot now. I’m probably making the situation out to be worse than it was, but I guess her reappearance has dug it all up again.
S: So you felt unappreciated?
H: Sometimes, yes. I’d be over there in Southport, helping out however I could, and all they’d talk about would be whatever issue Diane had at that particular moment: how there was a leak in her roof, for example, or an issue with one of the staff at Mia’s nursery. There was always something. Poor Mum was dying. The last thing she needed was to be worrying about Diane. My sister has always been perfectly capable of looking after herself. She’s also incredibly adept at making herself the centre of attention. It was the same after our mother died. Diane made a big play of her grief, particularly at the funeral, as if to suggest she had a closer bond with her than anyone else. She wouldn’t stop telling people how awful it was to have to watch a parent die such a slow and painful death; how she wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy. She kept recounting a conversation they’d had near the end, where Mum had apparently said she would have done anything to spare her the pain of watching her fade away. To me it felt like Diane trying to give people the impression she was always the one there at Mum’s side, which simply wasn’t true.
My Sister's Lies Page 7