‘All these secrets you’ve been keeping from me,’ Hannah said in little more than a whisper. ‘For all this time. And there was foolish, stupid little me thinking we shared everything. What a mug I’ve been.’
Hannah watched Mark’s eyes fall on his abandoned jacket, still lying where she’d dropped it on the floor. Was he berating himself for his mistake in leaving it in the kitchen, allowing her to discover the letter? The thought of that being his main concern right now sent a fresh chill through the ice already encapsulating her heart. Well, she for one was glad he’d finally tripped up. As broken and battered as she currently felt, at least she now knew the truth. Remaining in the dark would have been infinitely worse. And Mark clearly wouldn’t have told her otherwise. Why would he after he’d already got away with it for so many years? In different circumstances, she may never have found out – and the thought of that made her sick to her stomach.
‘You’ll have to tell her,’ she said in a clinical tone, staring straight ahead rather than looking at him.
‘What, now? Is that the best idea in the circumstances?’
She scowled at him before looking away again. ‘No, obviously not now, but soon. It’s only a matter of time until she starts asking about her father anyway.’
‘Right, but what if it isn’t me? Like I said, I don’t—’
‘Be quiet!’ Hannah snapped, startling herself with the frosty bite of her voice. ‘That’s not my concern. Not my problem. It’s your mess: you work out what to do. I need to get away from you. I can’t bear to look at your lying face any more.’
With that, she slid her chair out from under the table, rose to her feet and stormed out of the kitchen, slamming Diane’s letter into Mark’s chest as she passed him.
CHAPTER 22
Mark was reeling, like he’d taken a punch to the jaw. He pocketed the letter and walked over to where his jacket was lying in a heap on the kitchen floor. He picked it up and smoothed it over his right arm before taking the seat Hannah had vacated. After sitting there for a long moment, staring into space, he leaned forward to rest his forehead on the cool surface of the table.
He was sorely tempted to run after Hannah and beg her forgiveness. There were things he desperately wanted to say to her to help clear things up. More than anything, he needed to explain what had actually happened on that godawful night he and Diane had spent together, which was far from clear-cut. But it was way too soon after Diane’s death for that. Plus he could tell his wife was far too upset to be able to listen, never mind comprehend such matters, on top of everything else.
So, reluctantly, Mark accepted that now wasn’t the time. He would have to give her space to process everything. Otherwise he ran the risk of being turfed out of their home. He was surprised she hadn’t already kicked him out. Maybe she still would. The night was young.
He’d lived in fear of this moment – of Hannah finding out about him and Diane – for so many years now. It was the stuff of his nightmares, literally: his apocalypse moment. And here it was, coming true after so long, thanks to something as simple as leaving a letter in a jacket pocket.
Despite all the times he’d imagined this happening, it wasn’t like he’d expected. He’d pictured histrionics, long bouts of shouting and screaming and maybe even some physical violence directed towards him. He wouldn’t have blamed Hannah for any of that. But after an initial wave of tears and anger, his wife had mainly adopted a manner of cold detachment, which had thrown him.
An invisible wall had slid up between them as soon as she’d read the letter. Now he didn’t have a clue where Hannah’s head was at, especially in terms of her emotions about Diane, which were bound to be even more conflicted now than before.
How had he let this happen? And what did it mean for his, Hannah’s and Mia’s futures?
Sitting there with his head on the table, dazed and confused, Mark must have nodded off. It wasn’t entirely surprising, considering his lack of sleep the night before and his desire to curl up in a ball and escape reality. But he was shocked nonetheless to be woken up by Mia, who looked as confused as he felt. She was make-up free again today and it emphasised the fact that she was still so young – barely more than a child.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked.
‘Um, what?’ he replied, blinking as he took a moment to get his bearings; wiping his mouth free from the drool he could feel lingering there.
‘Why are you asleep on the kitchen table? And where’s Hannah gone?’
‘Oh, I didn’t sleep well last night. I rested my eyes for a moment and must have dozed off. Hang on, what do you mean about Hannah?’
‘Todd and I passed her in the lobby on our way back. She was heading out somewhere with an overnight bag. I asked where she was going, but she was in a rush. Said there was a taxi waiting. She told me you’d explain.’
‘Did she? Oh, right. I, um—’
‘Is she going to Bournemouth? I was thinking about it in the lift on the way up and that would make sense. But if so, why isn’t she taking me with her? It’s my house; my mum who’s died. I ought to be going with her.’
Mark didn’t know what to say. He had no idea where his wife had gone. She hadn’t mentioned anything to him, but he didn’t want to explain this to Mia. Could she be on her way to Bournemouth? Possibly, but he didn’t think so.
Mia was standing right next to him, with arms folded across her stomach and a furrowed brow. Her wide eyes were crying out for an answer to her question.
‘Listen,’ he said, after weighing up the options and deciding to tell her a version of the truth rather than more lies. ‘Your aunt got a bit upset earlier. We had a row. I don’t want to go into the details, but I think she’s gone somewhere nearby to cool off. She’s most likely on her way to a friend’s house or something like that. Don’t worry. I’ll try to call her in a bit, once she’s had a chance to calm down, and find out. I’m pretty sure she’s not heading to Bournemouth. Like you say, it’s your house; she wouldn’t go there without you.’
‘Okay,’ Mia replied, looking sheepish. ‘Sorry. I just thought—’
‘No, don’t be silly. You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Mia. Listen, have a seat. Are you hungry? Hannah made a big pan of soup: carrot and tomato. Can I get you a bowl? I’m sure we have some nice bread too.’
‘Thanks.’
She sat down as Mark jumped to his feet. He was glad of Mia’s company and of a distraction from his misery.
As he turned the hob on to reheat the soup, he asked her how she was getting on. ‘How’ve you managed today? You’ve been out with Todd, right?’
He had his back to her as he asked this and when there was no reply, turned around to see why. Mia was silently sobbing her heart out.
‘Oh, love,’ he said, rushing back to his seat and, instinctively, taking her hand in his. He felt a huge lump in his throat, seeing her in pieces like this.
‘It comes in waves,’ she said, sniffing and still crying as she spoke. ‘One minute I feel kind of okay, like none of it has actually happened, and then the next … I remember Mum’s gone. Really gone. And I’ll never see her again. It hurts so much.
‘I was walking past a Costa with Todd earlier and it reminded me how, when I was younger, Mum and I used to go to this branch near the supermarket before doing the shopping on a Saturday morning. She’d have a latte and I’d have a hot chocolate. It was kind of a ritual – her way of making the shopping trip more fun. And then, when I was older, I told her I didn’t want to go with her any more. That it was boring and I’d rather stay home or meet my friends. So we stopped doing it. Now I wish more than anything that I could go there with her again one more time.’
Hearing this, squeezing Mia’s cool, slender hand the whole time, Mark found himself fighting back tears. She’d never spoken in such a way to him before, so openly and honestly; that, combined with the raw intensity of her grief, was overwhelming, especially in light of what had occurred with Hannah. To his surprise, he
realised he wanted to share something with her that he hadn’t told anyone for a long time.
‘What happened when you saw that café?’ he asked. ‘Todd was with you at the time, right? Did you go inside?’
Mia slowly shook her head. She slipped her hand free from his to wipe some of the tears from her cheeks. ‘I got really upset and ran off. Todd didn’t know what was going on and I never really explained it to him, but I think he realised it was to do with Mum. We didn’t chat about her too much. I told him I didn’t want to. I asked him to distract me by making me laugh and he did. It was really good to get out with him today. It definitely helped, but when we got back …’
Her voice trailed off like she’d thought better of what she’d been about to tell him.
‘What were you going to say?’ he asked. ‘It’s good to get these things off your chest. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.’
Mia looked away from him as she replied. ‘I feel bad saying it, but when I saw Hannah leaving earlier, she had her hair tied back and sunglasses on and … she looked so like my mum.’ There was a catch in her voice as she added: ‘It was almost like seeing her alive again. They look so alike. I’ve struggled with it a bit ever since I’ve been here, to be honest, but now … I don’t know. Maybe it would be easier if I hadn’t got to know you and Hannah so recently. I guess I’d be used to it, then.’
‘That’s identical twins for you. You should have seen them back in the day when they both wore their hair in a similar style with their natural dark-brown colour. They were almost indistinguishable from each other.’
Mia nodded. ‘Personality-wise, they’re quite different, though, aren’t they?’
‘Oh, definitely. They’ve always had distinct characters, for as long as I’ve known them both. They did used to get on pretty well, though. In their own way. There was always rivalry, sisterly rows and so on, but they were close. Did your mum ever tell you what happened between them to drive them so far apart?’
Mia shook her head. ‘Not really. She said they fell out, but that’s about it.’
Mark considered telling her more but decided it was too soon. ‘It was a long time ago,’ he said, getting up to check on the pan. ‘No need to go into all of that now.’
After serving them both a large bowl of the soup, with some crusty bread on the side, Mark had the same urge he’d felt when Mia had spoken about passing the branch of Costa. Hearing her open up like that had made him want to do the same: to share a very personal story with Mia that he thought might be of some comfort to her as she processed her grief. For he’d also lost someone close to him as a youngster and he still remembered every little detail of how awful that experience had been. It was something he rarely spoke about. Usually he didn’t even like to think about it.
Mark blew on his soup before skimming his spoon across the surface and taking a small mouthful. ‘Mmm, that’s nice,’ he said, looking at Mia, who was blowing her nose and yet to start eating. ‘Be careful. It’s hot.’
After they’d both finished their soup, Mark offered Mia a slice of Hannah’s fridge cake, which he knew from past experience would be delicious. She declined, saying she was full.
‘Okay,’ he replied. ‘Let’s leave it for now. We can have a piece later with a brew.’
Mia had only managed about two-thirds of her soup and Mark wanted to make sure she kept eating despite what she was going through, particularly considering her young age. He remembered how Hannah had lost a lot of weight following her mum’s death.
Mark placed an elbow on the table and cupped his chin in the palm of his hand. He looked at Mia, who was staring into the distance with a blank expression on her face, and took a deep breath before starting to speak. ‘I want to tell you something, Mia, which I think might be … useful, for want of a better word.’
Mia threw him a puzzled look.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing that … well, I’ll go ahead and say it, shall I? This isn’t something I share with many people, but when I was a bit younger than you are now – about eleven-and-a-half – I, um, lost my younger brother. Pete was only six when he died. Have you heard of meningitis?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ Mia replied.
‘Well, it’s a very serious illness. There are vaccinations against the most common forms of it these days, but he got a particularly nasty version that poisoned his blood. It all happened so quickly. Pete was rushed to hospital, but the doctors weren’t able to save him and suddenly he was gone. Like that, I didn’t have a brother any more.
‘Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that although I can’t imagine exactly what you’re going through at the moment, I do … have some idea. When you described your experience outside the coffee shop, I knew exactly what you meant. I remember feeling a really similar thing soon after Pete died.
‘I was quite a lot older than Pete, you see; much as I loved him, I didn’t always show it. In fact the day before he fell ill, he’d begged me to go to the park near where we lived in Stockport to play football with him, and I’d said no. But it was worse than that. I’d recently started at secondary school and made a load of new friends I was keen to impress. One of them had been round at the time, hanging out in my bedroom. Pete had come in with his football and I’d shouted at him to leave us alone and find some friends of his own to play with, calling him a “saddo no-mates”. Little did I know he’d be dead a couple of days later.’
Mark stopped talking for a moment, feeling his eyes start to well up; he was touched when Mia placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered: ‘It’s okay.’
He wanted to fight the emotion, but it was no use, so he let the tears fall as he continued to speak, keeping his voice as steady as he could.
‘I hadn’t really meant it. It was bravado. Showing off. But the wounded look on Pete’s face haunted me for years. I missed him so much after he was gone. I still do. I often wonder how different my life would be now if he was still in it. But he isn’t, so there it is. Anyway, like you said about Costa, I had a similar thing with the park where Pete had wanted to play football. I refused to go in there for a very long time afterwards. I even avoided walking past if I could, because thinking about that place made me think of Pete: both the good times we had there together and that last time when I didn’t go and was so mean.
‘I knew if I went there, it would hurt so much and I’d cry in front of everyone. Like I am now. Sorry, Mia. I didn’t mean to—’
‘It’s fine,’ she whispered. ‘Would you like a hug? I know I would.’
‘Definitely.’
Next thing, Mia was crying into his shirt as he carefully wrapped his arms around her and tried to hold himself together in the process. Why was he getting so emotional about something that had happened so long ago? His tears certainly weren’t for Diane, although seeing Mia this fragile and distressed was tough to witness. And then there was everything that had just happened with Hannah, of course. Was it really a surprise he felt wretched?
As they embraced, neither speaking, Mark wondered if this was what it felt like to be a father. His feelings for Mia at that moment were certainly different to anything he’d experienced previously. Holding her like this, although it was something they’d never done before, felt right. It probably ought to have been uncomfortable, awkward. But it wasn’t. The closest comparison he could make to it were the hugs he used to have with his mum when he was a boy: the ones that somehow made him feel like everything would be all right. But now he was on the other side. And more than anything, he wanted Mia to believe that everything would be all right. He desperately wished he could protect her from all the pain she felt and would continue to feel at the loss of her mother, even though he knew that wasn’t possible. But he could at least help, right? He could try to ease that pain even if he couldn’t get rid of it.
‘Shall I put the kettle on?’ Mark asked eventually, once both of them seemed to have reached a calmer place in their minds.
‘That sounds nice.�
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As he did so, he had an idea he immediately put to Mia. ‘Why don’t we watch a film to take our minds off everything? What do you think? Maybe we could find a Marvel one we both fancy.’
‘Sure. What about Hannah, though? Don’t you think you ought to call her to check she’s okay? Where’s she likely to have gone? She will be all right, won’t she?’
‘Don’t you worry about any of that, Mia. I’ll try to get hold of her very soon, I promise. But before I do, I’m not sure I made it clear what I was trying to say when I told you about Pete. Firstly, I wanted to let you know that I’m here any time you want to talk about how you’re feeling. I thought that might be easier if you knew I’d experienced a loss of my own when I was a boy. It’s okay to feel like you did when you walked past Costa. It’s a natural part of the grieving process. But if you can, I’d recommend you go in there rather than trying to avoid it. I did that for a long time with the park where Pete had wanted to play football. It was only years later that I went in there, at the suggestion of Hannah.
‘She encouraged me to face my fears and so eventually I did; she even came with me. It was emotional. I cried a lot. But it also helped me to get past that guilt I’d always felt. It was something I should have done a lot sooner. Now, when I go there, I can focus on the happy times Pete and I had. I’ve accepted I was just a kid when I said those nasty things to him; beating myself up about it won’t make a jot of difference. It’ll only make me miserable.’
After pausing to pour the hot water from the kettle into the waiting mugs, Mark asked a silent Mia: ‘Does that make sense?’
She nodded.
‘I’m not saying to do it straight away, but when you’re ready, you definitely should go there. Order a hot chocolate, like you used to. You could even get a latte for your mum, if you liked. And you wouldn’t have to do it alone. I’d be happy to come with you, and I know Hannah would too. We’re both here for you, whatever you need.’
My Sister's Lies Page 21